Dawn's Promise

by A. W. Exley

  Odd cries and screams punctuated Dawn’s sleep. She pulled the blankets over her head. Then she tried to identify whether she heard Lady Letitia howling from her tower room or the cries of ravens and owls on the hunt. Strange half-waking dreams swirled in her mind, stirred up by the screeching.

  The watcher from her garden in Whetstone set up an answering caw. Or was he warning her of seekers scuttling in the undergrowth? The raven spread its wings and took flight toward the night time sky. As he rose over the city, the bird’s feathers fell away, and it transformed and enlarged into a version of Lord Seton, who flew over the darkened landscape looking for prey to capture in his clawed feet.

  Nothing disturbed Mouse. The wolfhound snored softly from his spot, and she endeavoured to follow his example. But even when sleep claimed her, it wasn’t a restful slumber.

  Her mind dwelt on the moment in the library when Lord Seton stood at her back, his hand clasping hers over the heart of the garden. What was the tiny plant that appeared when he touched her and then vanished again? And did he graze her neck accidentally or deliberately? She pushed the blankets away as she heated up, only to rouse when the chill of night brushed her skin and she needed to pull the quilt back over her shoulders again.

  When morning arrived, her body and mind were troubled and her heart pulsed weakly in her chest. How would she make it through another day? She took a spoonful of tonic before eating the breakfast that once again waited her on the doorstep. By the time she sought out Hector, she felt able to face the day.

  In the courtyard, she encountered Dr Day dismounting from a chestnut horse. Its coat shimmered red gold in the sunlight.

  “Good morning, Miss Uxbridge. Are you settling into life at Ravenswing?” He tossed the reins to the waiting groom and unbuckled a black bag attached to the side of his saddle.

  “Yes, thank you. Are you here to see Lady Letitia?” Mouse sat at her side, and it had already become a habit to place a hand on his head, as though he were a touchstone that lent her strength.

  Dr Day swung the bag in his hand. “Yes. Lord Seton sent word that Lettie had a turn last night. I’m sure Nurse Hatton has things under control, but I like to check for myself.”

  Dawn’s fingers curled into Mouse’s shaggy fur. “Lady Letitia seemed most upset at my presence here.”

  Dr Day placed a hand on her arm and squeezed gently. A warm smile curled his lips under the tidy moustache. “Please do not take her words to heart. Her mind is troubled and she does not always know what she says.”

  “I would not want to cause her any distress.” Why did she demand Dawn leave the estate? Lady Letitia might cry out at night because of a fear of strangers or something else that lingered in the dark.

  “I rather think your presence could be beneficial to her. We all try to make her life as peaceful as possible, but I suspect she could use a little female companionship closer to her own age.” Concern that appeared more than that of a doctor for a patient simmered behind his hazel eyes when he spoke of the other woman.

  “I would like that. Do you think that when she is recovered we could take a turn in the garden together? Under your supervision, perhaps?” Assuming the earl allowed Dawn to keep her position as gardener, she could be at the estate for some time. The prospect of a friend was too alluring to reject, even if the other woman was mad.

  The doctor’s smile widened. “I think that is a grand idea. I will suggest it to Lettie.” He touched the brim of his hat and whistled as he walked toward the house.

  Hector emerged from the stables, leading a solidly built cob with a harness about its shoulders.

  “Is it far to the village?” she asked as he hitched the horse to the traces of the cart.

  “Not very. It’s only just past the station where I picked you up the other day.” He did up the last buckle.

  Mouse jumped into the back of the cart and took up his position behind the seat. Hector took Dawn’s hand and helped her climb up. As the horse trotted down the driveway, a raven circled overhead and then spun off toward the taller trees. Dawn had never seen so many of the large black birds. In Whetstone she’d only seen the one, as the built up houses and activity drove larger animals to quieter parts of the countryside.

  Through the tree foliage, Cumberland’s high peaks dotted the horizon. The horse trotted past the railway station and the yellow and red office. The village lay not much farther along the road from the station. Houses were clustered closer together and a multitude of voices rose in the distance. One building painted bright white appeared to be a schoolhouse, with numerous children playing and laughing on the surrounding grass.

  Houses were made of local stone, most two storeys high, and people walked and chatted along the road. Some gardens spilled from front lawns onto the edge of the road. Many villagers recognised Hector and called out and waved as he passed. It seemed a picturesque place, but there were unkempt hedges and spent flower heads that made Dawn itch for secateurs.

  “Is there much industry out here to keep people employed?” she asked.

  “Enough for us. Alysblud has the textile factory, started by the Seton family as soon as those fangled machines came along fifty years or so ago. It employs most of the locals and gives the area a better return than sending our fleeces to another town.” He eased back on the reins, and the cob slowed to a steady walk.

  They passed a house set well back off the road with a low cast iron fence out front. Hector gestured up the cobbled pathway. “That’s Dr Day’s house. He sees patients there, even does some surgery in one of the back rooms.”

  Dawn peered at the house, trying to discern something about the doctor in the plain garden visible from the road. The path was edged with lavender and lady’s mantle, the two intertwined in a soft display of grey, lavender, and palest yellow. A spreading cherry was the sole tree in the front lawn. Given its lack of any set fruit, it was probably an ornamental specimen, planted for its showy display of spring flowers. The lawn needed to be mowed, and the cherry could do with a prune to open up its branches and stop some rubbing against each other.

  “Is he married?” The question slipped out, not because she had any interest in the doctor, but she always imagined a country doctor needed a pragmatic wife to handle calls when he wasn’t home.

  Hector barked a short laugh and Mouse seemed to snigger. “No, not him. He gave his heart to a lass long ago, but I doubt she even realises.”

  “How sad.” She wondered what woman held the good doctor’s heart and what was wrong with him that she never reciprocated his feelings.

  “He lives in hope, that one, because the heart wants what it wants. Nothing we can do about it.” The horse plodded on down the lane and Hector pulled him to a halt at a large open square.

  The middle of the square was marked by a large fountain. The plinth stone in the middle of the water held aloft a young woman. A bird sat on her shoulder, and she poured water from a tipped urn back into the basin at her feet. Around the base of the fountain gathered a number of young men. Some played chess or backgammon. Others indulged in a round of cards.

  “The lads wanting work all wait here. They’ll all want to lend a hand at Ravenswing. You’ll be spoiled for choice.” Hector winked as he helped her down.

  A blush crept up Dawn’s neck. So many young men, how would she ever choose just four?

  9

  Following the principle that many hands make light work, Dawn decided to take a liberty with the earl’s permission to hire a few men. She hoped he concurred with her math that nearly a dozen men would do the work quicker than just four employed for longer. Plus, it meant the garden might be wrested under control in a few weeks, rather than months. If she had a limited allotment of time to achieve her goal, then she wanted to make as much progress as possible before she found herself unemployed and homeless.

  Once the men were given their orders to report to the estate the following day, Dawn accompanied Hector on a few errands. He stopped at the blacksmith and then the
post office. She was growing used to the retainer’s grim appearance and enjoyed the humour that lurked under his cadaver-like face.

  He emerged from the post office with a small parcel, and a toothless grin lit his face.

  “What do you have there?” Dawn asked. The way he clutched the paper-wrapped object piqued her curiosity.

  “Mail for Nurse Hatton from her niece. I’m going to demand a kiss before I hand it over.” Then his grin grew even larger until deep lines radiated from the corners of his eyes.

  Dawn found herself smiling at the aged romance and wondered if he would be rewarded or swatted. Chores done for the morning, Hector turned the cob and cart back toward Ravenswing. On the road to the estate, they passed Dr Day leaving on the handsome chestnut. Both horses halted in the shade created by tall trees on either side of the track. Boughs touched above their heads in a leafy umbrella.

  “How is Lady Letitia today, and did you have an opportunity to broach the possibility of a walk in the garden?” Dawn asked once the usual pleasantries were out of the way. Against her better judgement, hope flared in her chest that she might find a friend or companion in the troubled woman. She had never possessed a close woman friend and always wondered what it might be like to have someone to share whispered confidences.

  A frown flitted across the doctor’s brow, and he wiped it away with one hand. “She will need a few more days, Miss Uxbridge. The change in her routine has her somewhat agitated. Let her become accustomed to your presence at the estate first.”

  “Oh. I understand.” Disappointment plunged through Dawn. The earl’s sister truly did not want her on the property, and Dawn would continue her existence without a friend.

  “Time, Miss Uxbridge. Just give her a little time.” He doffed his hat and told the gelding to walk on.

  Dawn let out a sigh. Mouse nudged against her from behind and she stroked his head.

  “Miss Lettie hasn’t got a bad bone in her body. We’d all like to see her restored to the laughing girl she once was.” Hector kept his eyes on the road ahead, and his words were matter-of-fact but with a faint tinge of sadness.

  “What happened to her?” Dawn always thought mad people were born that way, but had some circumstance driven Lady Letitia to the brink of insanity?

  Hector huffed. “She was always a gentle soul, loved both her brothers. Losing Lord Julian was too much for her.”

  There was something Dawn could grasp and understand. Grief twisted in both one’s body and mind. She rested her cheek on the top of Mouse’s head. She wanted to ask how Lord Julian died and whether it was so gruesome that it drove his younger sister mad, but that wasn’t the polite thing to ask. She picked a different question instead.

  “Was it very recent?”

  “No, years ago. It was just weeks before Master Elijah was born. Poor lad never knew his father, and Lord Julian never knew his son. But don’t you go prying, the family is very tight about such things.” Hector cast her a serious look.

  “I had no intention of prying. I simply didn’t want to say the wrong thing and cause offence.” Well, possibly she wanted to do a tiny bit of prying, but surely it was only natural to be curious when immersed in such a family?

  Hector’s shoulders shook in a silent laugh as though he guessed her motives, but he remained tight-lipped about his employer for the rest of the journey home.

  Back at Ravenswing, Dawn ate a quiet lunch in the cottage while scanning the botany books for any information on the Ravensblood tree or the rampant vine. Her study was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. Mouse looked up and his shaggy eyebrows raised in what Dawn assumed was the dog equivalent of a shrug. Since he didn’t offer so much as a ghost of a woof, it must be someone he knew on her doorstep.

  She pushed the book away. Its pages had no information to reveal anyway, and she needed a distraction after so long bent over the table. Behind the door she found Elijah, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and wearing an unbuttoned waistcoat in the barest minimum of suitable dress for a noble son. Legitimate or not. He wore a straw boater on his head, which he took off when she appeared.

  “I have escaped the schoolroom if you wish to find the hermitage.” A warm smile lit both his lips and eyes.

  He was a handsome lad, and on closer inspection, not too many years younger than her. Dawn could see the family resemblance between him and his uncle, if only the latter ever smiled. Was there likewise a strong resemblance between Elijah’s father and uncle? Unless she could find a painting or photograph of Julian, her curiosity would go unsatisfied.

  “Certainly, I’ll just fetch my hat and notebook,” she said.

  While she found her straw sunhat and stuffed a notebook and pencil in her apron, Mouse shuffled forward and licked Elijah’s hand. He fussed over the large dog and ruffled furry ears.

  “If you don’t want to carry everything around the estate, Mouse here can pull a cart,” Elijah said as she stepped over the threshold and pulled the door shut.

  “I imagine he could, but I couldn’t treat him as a pack animal.” He was the same size as a small pony and she could easily see him pulling a brightly coloured cart containing laughing children.

  “Not even saddle bags?” He swept his hands over Mouse’s side in a gesture to replicate bags hanging from either side.

  “That would be handy if he could carry secateurs, trowels, and such like. But how does one ask a canine for their approval to do such a thing?” Surely the beast should have some say in how he was employed.

  Elijah shrugged. “I suspect if he didn’t want to, he would have a way of letting you know.”

  They took a path that headed east and skirted the unruly wood that had pressed on Dawn’s mind and robbed her of her senses. Instead they walked through a wildflower meadow. Here, neglect and chaos birthed a wild beauty. Flowers of riotous colours spilled across the landscape. An artist’s palette of pale yellows, vivid blues, deep pinks, and pure whites collided with one another and yet existed in a strange harmony. Fat bees buzzed between vibrant pink clover, blood red poppies, and ocean blue cornflowers.

  “It’s lovely out here. I wouldn’t change a thing,” Dawn said, her hand skimming the tops of tall flowers and arching grasses.

  “Uncle Jasper hates it. He keeps threatening to let the sheep loose in here to eat it all short, but Hector and I won’t let him.” Elijah cast her a mischievous look.

  Dawn smiled. How could one be sad surrounded by such lovely blooms? “I wouldn’t think either of you would be fussed about a meadow of flowers.”

  The youth shrugged in his casual manner. “Hector likes to pick them for Nurse Hatton, and the local girls like to come here and gather bunches too.” A slight blush rose from under his collar.

  Dawn decided not to tease him about growing flowers to attract the local lasses. They were probably drawn to him like bees to the blooms. “I’m sure your aunt would appreciate them too. Does she walk the grounds much?”

  “Not often, although Aunt Lettie loves the lake. She doesn’t like to be alone in the grounds after—” His voice trailed off. He snapped off a flower head and tossed it in the air, making it soar ahead of them.

  Another topic of conversation to be avoided, or probably the same topic if it were related to the death of Lord Julian. “What can you tell me of the hermitage?”

  The meadow ended at trees clustered along the base of a hill. From Dawn’s understanding of the layout, the serene lake was off to her left, through the trees. The water flowed down the hill and into the large pond. The hill was one of many that crowded along this side of the estate and ran backward into an even more mountainous landscape.

  “It’s been overgrown for such a long time. It took me years of searching to find it.” Elijah led the way as they pushed through the trees to find a narrow path.

  Dawn smiled to herself. His years of searching probably meant a few days or a summer at most. “Mouse and I searched through here yesterday but to no avail. It’s so overgrown.”

>   She hadn’t even noticed the path the day before. In the dappled light of the forest it seemed no more than an animal track, running from the hilltop down to the water. The oaks, elms, and birches laced hands and kept out most of the sunlight. Ferns scrambled around trunks and over jutting roots.

  “Was it really the fashion to keep hermits in gardens?” Elijah glanced back as he held a branch out of her way.

  “Yes. It was popular in Georgian times to keep a hermitage with a strange man who would spout philosophy or mystical ramblings at the well-bred ladies.” To Dawn, keeping a hermit in the garden was akin to chaining up a bear for entertainment – barbaric and outdated. Ladies should read books or find a more intellectual pursuit rather than laughing at unfortunates with no homes. Although if Lord Seton decided to fire her at the end of the week, perhaps she could take up residence in the hermitage.

  The path angled upward and the landscape became more rock than grass. Dawn watched each step in case she slipped or tripped. Soon they were climbing over outcrops and pushing under heavy boughs but still circling upward. As she reached for a tree root to steady herself, she wondered at the oddity that the more she walked the grounds and exerted herself, the more invigorated she felt. Rather than weakening with the effort of tackling the large estate, she seemed to draw strength from the verdant growth around her.

  Elijah paused and rested one hand on a mossy trunk. “Not much further.”

  Mouse stuck to her side, and Dawn was grateful for his solid presence when she stumbled, knowing the dog would catch her until she found her balance again. The way before them became steeper and harder until they were no longer navigating an uneven path, but scrambling up a hillock. Dawn’s hands reached for something to grasp, and her troublesome skirts wrapped around her legs. She envied Elijah in his trousers and the easy way he hopped over outcrops like a goat.