The Rooks of Misselthwaite- in the Forgotten Garden

by Alydia Rackham

  ​Lily giggled.

  ​“I don’t mind that.”

  ​“The men will,” Evie answered.

  ​“Then they’re not worth my time,” Lily declared. “Whoever heard of disliking someone because of freckles!”

  ​“I can’t account for their tastes,” Evie replied primly. “I only know that we both must at least pretend to try and catch one of them.”

  ​Lily rolled her eyes.

  ​“It’s only April and we have a whole year of this…”

  ​ “Precisely,” Evie nodded, still brushing. “Let’s make the best of it.”

  ​Lily sopped up the last bit of sauce from her plate with her last bit of bread and ate it, then took a long, careful drink of water. China clinked, conversation murmured, and Lily staunchly ignored Miss Monroe’s burning glares. Lily sat at the head of the enormously-long, food-packed dining table, Miss Monroe to her left and the white-haired, bearded Sir Drake on her right. And all down either side of the table, alternating men and women, sat all the single folk in the county—of means, that is—and at the farthest end, Lily could just barely glimpse her sister. Seated on Evie’s left was Henry Dosset, and on her right, the dark, broad, forbidding figure of their cousin, Gregory Lennox.

  ​Lily eyed her cousin as she took a sip of wine. She had been studying him all through dinner, though of course she could not hear a word he or her sister said. Gregory wore a fine black suit with a red silk cravat, and sat with one hand regally resting on the table. He had a sculpted, handsome face, and short, black hair. At a glance, Lily would have thought she was seeing a younger version of her own father—but then his cutting blue glance would dart up and down the lines of guests, and an icy sensation would pass over her skin.

  ​Evie, however, appeared undaunted. She kept up easy conversation with the four guests closest to her, smiling brightly and laughing, and calling upon the servants to see to anyone who needed anything. All of the young men and women at that end attended to her, watching her and often speaking, seeming engaged by her banter. Lily had not been doing as well—hence Monroe’s burning glares.

  ​“What news from Misselthwaite, Sir Drake?” broad-chested, red-headed Mr. Twine asked, shifting in his chair, which stood next to Miss Monroe. Lily blinked, coming back to herself. Sir Drake wiped his mustache with a napkin.

  ​“What have you heard, sir?” Drake asked Mr. Twine, his voice deep.

  ​“I heard that Mr. Craven sold a bit of his border land to you, so that you might plant a wall and redirect the stream,” Twine answered.

  ​“Indeed he has,” Drake confirmed. “He’s a good sort of fellow, to let me do that.”

  ​“You mean you’ve actually seen him?” Miss Angel, on the other side of Sir Drake, leaned her blonde head forward and gaped at him.

  ​“Well, no, not since he was a boy,” Drake admitted. “Of course I…Well, I have conducted the business entirely through correspondence. I wrote to him, explaining my situation, he replied very promptly, and the matter was all settled within a fortnight. Very agreeable, civil sort of man—I imagine I made it easier on him that way, rather than paying calls. I did not wish to impose upon him and oblige him to return the visit, seeing as he cannot walk.”

  ​“Cannot walk! I thought he was quite a young man!” Mr. Twine said.

  ​“Yes, he is not yet thirty, if my count is right,” Drake replied. “But he has been crippled since his youth, you know.” Drake took a breath and sat back in his chair. “I am far more likely to see his younger brother—though not recently, since he has left to study medicine.”

  ​“If he is crippled, I wonder that his brother does not have him placed in an institution,” Miss Monroe sniffed. “It cannot be safe or healthy for an invalid to live alone in such a large, desolate house.”

  ​“But he would go entirely out of his wits if someone tried to move him,” dark-haired Miss Mabell, beside Mr. Twine, authoritatively entered the exchange. “I’ve heard that’s the way it is with recluses. They go mad if anyone disrupts their solitude.”

  ​“Yes, it may be dangerous to move him,” Twine agreed. “Perhaps that is the reason his brother is becoming a doctor—to act as his brother’s personal physician!”

  ​“How dreadful,” Miss Angel shook her head. “To spend the rest of his life locked up in that frightful house when he could be out doctoring and doing some good!”

  ​Lily frowned hard, listening but saying nothing.

  ​Just then, the servants emerged with dessert, and the gloomy subject of Misselthwaite and its unhappy master dropped. However, Lily ate in silence, thinking—still ignoring Monroe’s berating stare.

  ​“Ugh. Unpleasant conversation toward the end of dinner,” Miss Mabell remarked as the ladies retired to the dimly-lit sitting room, leaving the men behind to smoke. She walked arm in arm with Lily, though Lily had not invited her, and they passed between the standing lamps toward the settees around the fire.

  ​“Not that I blame you, Lilias dear,” Miss Mabell amended, squeezing her elbow. “You certainly can’t help what Sir Drake and Mr. Twine choose to talk about.”

  ​“I thought it was interesting,” Lily replied lightly, easily pulling away from her and sitting down on the settee near the crackling fire. “More interesting than the price of muslin in Town versus the country, anyway.”

  ​“Sorry to have bored you,” Miss Angel pouted, sitting with Miss Mabell across from Lily. Lily laughed and reached across to squeeze Miss Angel’s hand.

  ​“Oh, I didn’t mean that, Lizzie,” Lily promised. “I was far too engaged in eating that delicious partridge to be bored by anything.”

  ​“It was a beautiful dinner,” Mrs. Eldridge, a middle-aged widow, confirmed as she strolled in with Evie by her side. Evie sat down next to Lily, and Mrs. Eldridge sat on the other side of her. All the other ladies made themselves comfortable in the various alcoves in the sitting room, lit by lamps and candles. Lily, warm and satisfied, leaned back into the cushions with a sigh.

  ​“You did eat, didn’t you?” Evie teased in her ear. Lily flashed her a look.

  ​“And you hardly ate anything! You talked all evening!”

  ​“I had to,” Evie defended herself. “Those gentlemen did nothing but ask me questions.”

  ​Lily frowned at her.

  ​“Questions about what?”

  ​“About our neighbor, at Misselthwaite,” she answered. Lily sat up straighter.

  ​“Oh, not him again,” Miss Mabell groaned. “Talking about sick people is so tiresome.”

  ​“What did they want to know?” Lily asked, ignoring Miss Mabell.

  ​“The boundaries of his land, for certain,” Evie replied. “How many tenants and cottages, that sort of thing.”

  ​“Whatever for?” Lily wondered. Evie shrugged.

  ​“It sounded to me as if Dosset and Ames Thomas, some of the other neighbors, and now Gregory are interested in buying his land from him—carving it up amongst themselves.”

  ​“Gregory said this,” Lily said, her voice going low and hard. Evie nodded, her bright eyes now focusing entirely on Lily. The other ladies faded to the back of Lily’s consciousness.

  “There’s even talk of getting Mr. Craven to sell his manor,” Evie went on.

  A dart of terror shot through Lily’s heart.

  “What? That’s absurd!” she cried. “That house has been in their family for nearly five-hundred years!”

  “Six,” Mrs. Eldridge corrected, turning toward them. “But consider—it may be best for Archibald. If he sells now, both he and his brother could live in comfort the rest of their days. Perhaps Mr. Craven could move to a more equable climate, and Mr. Jacob Craven could easily support himself whilst following his professional passions. After all, a remote manor is no place for a doctor to live. And as yet, Mr. Jacob has taken no wife, and it is very unlikely Mr. Craven himself ever will, poor man. And even if he didn’t sell the house, if he sold the grounds, the money from tho
se sales alone would support him for as long as he would have need of anything at all. I don’t believe he much cares for managing that estate—his father was much better at that.”

  “Whatever happened to his father?” Evie asked, turning to Mrs. Eldridge. “I know he died, but—”

  “His father was killed,” Miss Eldridge’s eyes softened. “As was his mother, in a railroad accident.”

  Lily’s whole body went cold. She swallowed. Mrs. Eldridge met her gaze, and smiled gently.

  The doors opened. Lily twitched, and blinked back tears.

  All the ladies fluttered and laughed, and greeted the men as they strode in smelling of tobacco and brandy. Lily sat still. Evie turned and rested her forehead briefly on Lily’s shoulder.

  “I suddenly cannot bear being here anymore,” she whispered. Lily cleared her throat and pushed her lightly.

  “Go set the whist table,” she muttered. Evie sucked in a breath, straightened, nodded, then forced a smile and got up.

  “Mr. Dosset!” she called. “Come, be my partner at cards.”

  Lily turned, and stared into the fire, resting her elbow on the armrest and pressing her fingers to her lips.

  “Lilias,” Mrs. Eldridge’s voice murmured from close behind her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you—do forgive me. I—”

  “Mrs. Eldridge.”

  The masculine voice tightened Lily’s gut. She froze.

  “So sorry to interrupt—would you allow me a seat beside my cousin?” the man asked.

  “Certainly, Mr. Lennox. I was just heading to the whist table myself,” Mrs. Eldridge allowed, and the rustle of her skirt told Lily that she got up and departed. Lily then heard him settle down into the seat beside her, and turn toward her.

  “Well, Cousin,” he said. “I haven’t been at liberty to enjoy any of your company this evening. This saddens me.”

  Lily braced herself, turned and faced him, and put on a pleasant expression. He loomed next to her—broad-shouldered and tall. The fire caught and accented all of his marble-like features. His ice-blue eyes cut right into her. She made herself meet them.

  “We cannot have that, can we?” she smiled. “What can I do to lift your spirits?”

  “Tell me how you and your sister are faring,” he requested in a deep, even tone. “Miss Monroe sees to all your needs, I assume?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lily answered. “She keeps a watchful eye.”

  “And this house,” Gregory glanced around. “It is charming.”

  “Thank you.”

  He looked out the window at the darkness, and his brow furrowed.

  “It is altogether uncivilized, isn’t it—out here on the moors?” he said. “I have not been here above three times in my life, and yet I cannot help believing each time I drive down these narrow roads that this is the most desolate place on earth.”

  Lily dipped her head to hide a different smile.

  “Oh, it can be lonesome if one is not used to it. But I feel quite at home, here.”

  “That’s absurd,” he scoffed. “Your charms are wasted in this wilderness. You’re far better suited to the society of London than that of the wind and the rustics.”

  Lily looked at him.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never been.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Never been to London? Truly?”

  “Not once,” she confessed.

  “We must remedy this—then you will understand what I mean,” he decided, shifting closer to her. “London is brimming with fine diversions—amusements you cannot possibly imagine. If you gave me the chance, I could show them to you, gladly. Society is varied and entertaining, there are dances and plays and concerts every night. You would instantly become a jewel in the finest circles if I made introductions for you, Lilias. In fact, I could make you far more at home there than you have ever felt here.” He reached out, and took hold of her hands in his.

  His fingers felt like ice—and suspicion sank into Lily’s stomach like a stone. Her attention fixed on his hard knuckles.

  “Houses near the center of town are spacious and luxurious,” he went on, watching her. “I’m certain you could find one to your liking. And as for the servants—”

  Mid sentence, Lily’s horrid suspicions cemented into realization.

  She clamped down on his hands.

  “Gregory!” she cried.

  He halted.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been so selfish!” she said. “I’ve been so fascinated listening to your talk of London that I’ve neglected to offer my condolences!”

  “Condolences?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” Lily nodded. “Your poor mother. We are all so grieved to hear of it.”

  “Oh,” Gregory started, then drew in a breath and raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Yes, well…” He lowered his head briefly. “Yes, it is most tragic. An awful blow to my family. And to myself. I was very close to my mother.”

  Lily bit back three retorts and softened her expression even further.

  “I’m certain you were,” she soothed. “We shall miss her terribly. We did not get to see her nearly enough.”

  “Well, as you…Well, she detested travel,” Gregory cleared his throat and loosened his grip on her hands. “And with you and your sister living so far away—”

  “Lily!”

  Lily looked far past him to the opposite corner of the room, where Evie stood, beckoning to her.

  “Come,” Evie called. “We need a fourth person to complete our game.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, Cousin,” Lily said, drawing free of him and standing. “I am being summoned.”

  “Of course, of course,” Gregory answered, frowning absently. Lily did not linger to study his expression. She strode across the room, smiling at her guests, and reached Evie’s side.

  Evie immediately slipped an arm around Lily’s waist and drew her close, then whispered in her ear.

  “What—did he try to propose to you, too?”

  Lily was struck—she stared at her sister.

  Then, she pressed a hand to her lips.

  Evie giggled.

  And that sent both of them into fits. They leaned on each other and Lily pressed her face into Evie’s neck as she laughed, and warmth filling her body again. Finally, Lily managed to steady her breathing, her face hot, and wiped at her eyes.

  “So sorry,” she said breathlessly to a smirking Mr. Dosset and a stunned Sir Drake. “Do forgive me. What game shall we play?”

  Lily sat on the settee next to Evie, her fingers gripped tightly together. She stared at her knees. The mantel clock had just struck one in the morning—but her spine clenched rigidly and her heart beat fast. Evie sat beside her just as stiffly, hardly breathing.

  And Miss Monroe towered over them like a monolith.

  “I still cannot believe…” Miss Monroe bit out. “How ridiculous, uncooperative and inelegant both of you behaved all this evening. Evelia—you discussed business with these gentlemen? The buying and selling of property?”

  “They asked me about—”

  “Nothing of the sort is any of your concern, young woman,” Monroe snapped. “Especially regarding that invalid Mr. Craven and his affairs. If you had any sense at all you would have directed the conversation to pleasant and familiar topics that the other young ladies could discuss, as well as those that showcase your personal assets. And you, Lilias…” Monroe turned her heavy gaze to Lily. Lily didn’t look at her—she could feel Monroe’s glare on the top of her head.

  “You hardly spoke a word during dinner, made no attempt at flirtation—”

  “With Drake and Twine?” Lily raised her eyebrows.

  “Of course!” Monroe shot back. “They are two of the richest and most important men in the county. And you also made no attempt, as a hostess should, to steer the subject away from that wretched Craven and the cant of buying and selling. Instead you let it roll on, like a vulgar debate at the Exchange. You should
have prevented it and engaged them in a subject which interested them in you.”

  “I didn’t realize I could exercise that kind of power,” Lily muttered.

  “Clearly,” Monroe said icily. Lily lifted her eyes. Monroe’s pale gaze narrowed at her.

  “And worst of all,” Monroe hissed, bearing down on them. “I have learned that Mr. Lennox proposed to you both—first to Evelia, and then to Lilias—and he was refused. Refused.” She shook her head. “As if you were both duchesses, and could pick and choose your husbands as the fancy struck you. Gregory is a young, healthy, handsome and influential man who could easily have taken care of both of you—if Evelia had married him, Lilias could have gone to stay with her until she herself was married, or vice versa. But one at a time you both disappointed his merciful and hospitable offer! How dare you?”

  “I don’t love him.”

  Lily turned to glimpse her sister, who had gone ash white, whisper those words.

  “What did you say?” Monroe demanded, eyes blazing. Evie lifted her head, and looked straight at her.

  “I don’t love him, and he does not love me. Whatever he wanted from me, it was not love, or he wouldn’t have gone over to Lilias to ask her the same exact question in the same evening.” Evie got to her feet, color flaring to her cheeks as her gaze lit with fire. “He has gone against his mother’s wishes to support us—and I cannot, after seeing him, believe that he cared for her at all!—and has threatened to cut us off at the end of the year and sell everything we own! He is a ruthless excuse for a gentleman, and nothing in the world would ever induce me to marry him!”

  Monroe slapped Evie across the face.

  The blow rang through the room.

  Lily leaped to her feet, seeing scarlet—

  And clamped her fists to keep herself from throwing Monroe to the ground.

  Evie’s gasp tore through her body. Her hand flew to her cheek. Monroe stepped in and grabbed Evie by the arm.

  “Perhaps this will induce you,” Monroe snarled, pointing at Evie’s nose. “Do you know what awaits you at the end of this year if you do not secure a husband? You will be thrown out onto the moor to fend for yourselves. You have no relations, no one on earth who cares whether you live or die. You are penniless and you have not learned any trade. If you are lucky, you may find work as seamstresses or servants in a town or positions as governesses to numerous wild children.” Monroe pressed closer to her as Evie’s tears flowed. “If you are not lucky, you will face starvation, separation, and unspeakable sacrifices of modesty and dignity simply to put food in your bellies.” Monroe shook her. “This is your fate, Evelia Lennox—yet you treat it with flippancy and carelessness. So tell me…” she cocked her head. “Why should I continue to help you?”