by A. W. Exley
Elijah carried the hedgehog to a row of currants and placed the creature in the dappled shade. Then he stopped by the barrel to collect a cup of water.
“Thank you,” Dawn murmured. She took the tin cup and drank the cool water.
The old oak door in the wall banged open, and Lord Seton hurried across the gravel paths. He wore no jacket, just a buttoned waist coat over his cream linen shirt. “Are you all right? What happened?”
How did he hear so quickly? Who could have told him when Elijah still stood in front of her? Mouse sat on the ground next to her, but the raven continued to watch. The bird stared at the earl. Lord Seton glanced up at the bird and then returned to his inspection of her.
Dawn was feeling rather embarrassed about all the attention, and she kept compounding her mistakes by running into the earl just as she looked at her worse. He would think her a silly woman not up to the task of restoring the grounds. “I am quite fine, thank you, just rather dry. I climbed into the pineapple pit to rescue a hedgehog, and the wind slammed the frame shut on me.”
“A hedgehog?” The perennial frown returned to the earl’s forehead.
“Yes. Its foot was caught in a tangle of weeds. I couldn’t leave the poor thing to die.” She now had an inkling of what a horrid way it would have been to expire. Doubly so for the nocturnal hedgehog.
“You climbed through the pit?” His gaze narrowed as he glanced back at the row of murky glass panes.
“There was no alternative. The end pane wouldn’t open.” She definitely sounded like a foolish woman. Perhaps he didn’t understand the worth of the humble hedgehog. “Hedgehogs are very important in a garden, my lord. They eat slugs and snails.”
A dark brow arched, and he made a humphf in the back of his throat. Then he extended a hand to her. “Perhaps you should come up to the house to rest for a bit.”
Dawn bit the inside of her lip. Not a helping hand again! He really must think her weak and helpless. After a moment of hesitation, she placed her hand in his. The wriggly tendril of vine appeared from her palm and slid over his, wrapping around his wrist and then looping back to hers. The plant tightened around their clasped hands. She glanced at Lord Seton’s face. He showed no reaction or indication that he too saw the vine. She must be hallucinating with a touch of heat stroke.
The earl easily pulled her to her feet and handed off the tin cup to his nephew. Lord Seton kept Dawn close as they strolled toward the house, one hand hovering by the small of her back to guide her way, but not touching her.
She cast around for a topic of conversation to distract herself. His presence was like being shadowed by a dark cloud that hung over her and made her want to dart inside before the weather broke. Disapproval, probably of her sex and pathetic gardening attempts, rolled off him.
She tried to dig up something deep and meaningful to say, but instead blurted out, “I think I have changed my mind about growing pineapples. What sort of plant thrives in such hot and torturous surrounds?”
He made the noise in his throat, but when he turned to regard her fully for the first time in their acquaintance, humour sparkled in his grey eyes. “Perhaps suffering such torment is what makes their flesh so juicy and sweet?”
She couldn’t help herself, she laughed. Not only was she relieved to not be greeted with a frown of disapproval, but it was funny. Assuming he did indeed jest. If it were a joke, it was the first she had heard him make.
He flashed a rare smile, and a comfortable warmth flushed through her torso. Not the unbearable heat from the glass roofed frames, but something deeper and more sustainable. Like a bath exactly the right temperature to lull one’s mind. Oh, a bath! Why did she have to think of a lovely, long bath?
“I think you should continue with your plans to grow pineapples. My family has long believed in looking after the Alysblud community, and the fruit would be a treat to share with the other families.”
The exact reason why she wanted to grow them. “First I need to have one of the men sand back the rusty hinges and remove all the pins from the latches. We also need to discover how the hedgehog made his way inside, to make sure no others try to follow and close any gap that might create a draft.”
They entered the house through the French doors that led to what Dawn thought of as the soothing drawing room with its earthy green and brown palette.
The earl led her to a sofa covered in a fabric woven with autumn leaves. “Please be seated, Miss Uxbridge, and I will have the maid fetch you a cool lemonade.”
Dawn stared at the softly padded sofa. An ache settled into her bones, and her knees wanted to buckle. But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “I am terribly dirty, Lord Seton. I have been working alongside the men all morning.”
He glanced at the back of her skirts. “You’ll be fine. It is nothing that won’t brush off. But there is a delicate matter I would raise while I have you away from the workmen.”
Dawn gathered her skirts to one side and sat with relief.
“A delicate matter?” she repeated back at him. No doubt he was going to express his dissatisfaction with her inability to work like a man. And then chastise her for unladylike behaviour and flights of fancy with running from screaming trees and becoming trapped in a pineapple pit. She curled her hands into her apron, letting her nails bite into her palm to hold back any tears as he told her she was dismissed.
It seemed that once he started smiling he couldn’t stop, and another one tugged at his full lips. Unless all employers grinned as they sacked a useless employee, he must be taking pleasure in her torment. “There is no bath in the cottage. Would you like to have one here, or would it feel too improper?”
The sigh of relief escaped her throat before she could hold it in. Her employment wasn’t going to be terminated prematurely, but instead he offered her something marvellous. The chance to scrub herself clean.
“Oh, yes please.” She met his gaze and a tingle travelled from the top of her scalp down to her toes.
12
Dawn wanted nothing more than to remove her dirty clothes, climb into a bath immediately, and disappear beneath the bubbles. But quitting work at lunchtime wouldn’t improve her employer’s already dim opinion of her. Nor would it set a good example for her workmen who still laboured under the hot sun.
Instead, she drank a refreshing glass of lemonade, allowed her erratic heart to return to a semblance of a normal beat, and then she headed back out. First she stopped at the cottage and took another mouthful of her tonic to bolster her constitution after the morning’s exertions.
Dawn took a more managerial role for the rest of the afternoon, and it lightened her mood to see most of the vegetable beds wrested under control. Weeds were pulled, soil dug over, and all they needed was some rotted matter to work through as compost. She could now plan the winter plantings. If she were to lose her position at week’s end, at least she had made one positive change at the estate.
With Mouse at her side, Dawn walked over to the maze to find progress non-existent. Hector stood scratching his bald head, and one man sat on the ground holding a cut and bleeding arm. The others stared at the close-knit vines, hedge clippers dangling from limp fingers.
“What happened here?” Dawn asked as she stopped next to Hector.
“Damn vine is a tough old thing, you’d swear it had iron in its core. It’s slow going, Miss Uxbridge.” He plopped the boater back on his skull to protect both head and face from the sun.
She let out a sigh of disappointment. The men had barely filled one wheelbarrow, and there were no perceptible gaps in the twisted wall. The entrance was still fiercely guarded, and one man was injured. She never imagined the vine would fight back. At this rate it would be months before she could push through the dense hedges of the maze.
She turned to the fellow clutching a torn off shirt to his bloody arm. “Are you badly hurt? Do we need to summon Dr Day?”
“Thorns ripped right through the leather gloves, miss,” he said and gestured to the shredded items next
to him.
Her hand went to her wrist, where the mark the vine gave her itched and grew heated. There was a slim possibility the vine’s thorns had poisonous tips. “Hector, do you know if the vine is poisonous?”
“Plenty of men have been scratched by it over the years, but I’ve not known one to suffer more than a bit of blood loss to it. Bill here is lucky the scratches aren’t too deep. Just needs to be cleaned up and bandaged. Funniest thing though, it’s like the vine knows we’re trying to get past it and it seems to move of its own accord.” Hector narrowed his eyes at the plant that hugged the entire maze tight, as though he expected it to be ashamed of its actions.
“Move in what way?” Dawn peered at the mass. A couple of smaller offshoots showed the raw edge of being recently cut.
Hector pointed to the left side of the entrance. “We started there ’cause it looked thinner, but when we started to cut the main bough, the vine slithered away and more strands of it laced through with the others.”
“It just fell in on itself when we pulled it. A vine can’t move, can it, miss?” the worker on the ground asked.
“It is a living thing. It might be protecting itself by instinct, rather like a Venus flytrap can snap shut over an insect.” Dawn stared at the thick layers of vine.
Anything was possible in the strange garden, and until she found the vine in a botanical book, she could only guess at what abilities it might have. The thorns might sense an attack, and perhaps the vine tightened by reflex to fill the gaps in its defences? Some flowers could turn their heads to track the progress of the sun across the sky, so this vine might track the men in a similar fashion. People were too quick to dismiss them as only plants and forget they were living things.
She should really tend her injured worker before she considered how to combat an armed opponent. “We should take him to Nurse Hatton to bathe and bind the scratches.”
She wasn’t sure of the exact depth of medical knowledge possessed by the nurse, but washing a scratch and applying a bandage would be within her ability.
Hector perked up and winked at her. “Grand idea. I’ll deliver the lad myself.”
The injured man was helped to his feet and Hector walked him back to the house.
Dawn turned back to the closely guarded maze. The vine had now cast itself as her nemesis, but it would not win the battle. She needed time to consider a different tactic. “Let’s leave this until tomorrow, gentlemen. Could you lend a hand in the walled garden instead?”
They picked up gloves and implements and left to join their friends.
Soon the light faded and dusk settled over the estate. Hedgerows and trees bristled with noisy activity as sparrows and other smaller birds settled for the night and squabbled over the best twig to roost upon. Dawn thanked the men for their work and sent them home to their families. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and returned to the cottage.
She hung her apron over the back of a chair and picked up a clean gown, the lavender striped one again. A brief pang shot through her chest. She didn’t have a closet full of pretty gowns to wear to dinner with the earl. Would he mind, or was she daydreaming to even think he might cast the briefest romantic inclination in her direction? She was staff after all, although not treated like staff. His concern for her was at odds with the perpetual frown and his lack of belief in her work.
And he had touched her neck, whether with teeth or chin, and it had sparked a riot within Dawn.
“Foolish,” she muttered for possibly the thousandth time since setting foot on Ravenswing land, and headed out the cottage door with her canine companion. The earl was probably bored with the lack of new company and enjoyed unsettling her.
Nurse Hatton met her at the patio doors. One would never call the nurse diminutive, even though she was short in stature. Years had added to her girth, which called to mind photographs of the aging Queen Victoria. Red hair had faded to a dull copper and was tucked under her crisp white cap. Laughing blue eyes regarded Dawn.
Then she stuck out her hand. “Marjory Hatton, pleased to meet you, and do call me Marjory.”
“Dawn Uxbridge, and the pleasure is mine.”
The nurse had a firm grip like a man’s but a large smile on her rounded face that immediately settled Dawn’s nerves.
“Master Elijah and Lord Seton are playing cards with Lady Lettie. The earl suggested I show you to the bath, safe in the knowledge none of the menfolk would peek.” She winked and nudged Dawn.
It had never occurred to her the earl might peek. Was he so lonely and starved of feminine company that he would spy on a bathing employee? A blush heated her skin. Foolish.
That made a thousand and one times she had uttered the word.
“This way.” Nurse Hatton, or Marjory, took Dawn by the arm and guided her course, much like she had done with Lettie after she was injected with something. The nurse might have lacked height, but she was a solid force, and Dawn had the distinct impression following was required, not optional.
They walked through the parlour and up the sweeping staircase. Mouse was instructed to wait at the bottom of the stairs, and the wolfhound heaved a sigh and settled on the rug in front of the entrance hall hearth. At the top of the stairs, Dawn paused for a moment to stare up at the light well.
Marjory tugged on Dawn’s arm, but on seeing the source of her fascination, relented. “When you’ve lived here for years, you forget what the house looks like to fresh eyes.”
The two women stood in silence, staring upward. Dusk coloured the sky beyond the stained glass. Rich reds and deep orange became the background for the twisting vine and its ravens, and lit the whole with a fiery luminescence.
“It’s beautiful with dusk shining behind it. Does the house contain many such surprises?” Dawn asked as the light faded outside.
Marjory laughed. “Many surprises lurk around here from both house and occupants.”
They reached the landing and took the stairs to the east wing, opposite where Lettie played cards with her brother and nephew. They stopped at the first door on the next landing.
“This is a guest room you can use,” Marjory said as she pushed the door open.
Within, a maid poured a bucket of hot water into a hip bath that stood before the fire. The tin was lined with a sheet to protect her skin.
“I’ll wait outside for your dirty things, miss,” the maid said as she bobbed a curtsey and retreated out the door.
The rest of the room reminded Dawn of her old bedroom in Whetstone. A double bed was laid with a plain grey coverlet. A wardrobe with mirrored double doors stood against one wall. Under the window sat a dressing table with delicate curved legs. The wallpaper was striped in dove grey and deep purple and reminded Dawn of the people missing in her life. This was a room designed for mourning with the gentle but sombre colours.
“Now, would you like privacy and silence, or company and gossip?” Marjory took the clean dress and shift from Dawn and tossed them over the screen in one corner.
Dawn glanced at the bath. Part of her cried for privacy and quiet time, but another part of her whispered that gossip might be both entertaining and informational. She was curious about Lettie and her brother, and she suspected the nurse wasn’t as tight-lipped as Hector. Which raised another question.
“Company, please. And if I might be so bold as to start the conversation, did Hector demand a kiss in exchange for your mail?”
Marjory burst into laughter. She waved to the screen. “Get out of those dirty clothes and I’ll tell you about that old dog and his tricks.”
Dawn went behind the screen, removed her dress, and flung it over the top. Next her fingers worked the laces of her corset loose to enable her to undo the front busk. She made the mistake of sniffing her chemise as she pulled it over her head. It would need to be washed. Her drawers pooled around her feet and she kicked them to one side.
Someone had set out a silk robe, and she pulled it over her naked body. She was somewhat embarrassed to shed the
covering in front of Marjory, but she was a nurse and there was something about her manner that reminded Dawn of Aggie, the housekeeper at her family home. Dawn stared at a tendril of steam rising from the water. The faint trace of lavender made her inhale.
“Why don’t you hop in, love, and I’ll just hand your chemise off to the maid to be laundered.” The nurse swiped the dirty garment from the screen.
“Thank you.” Dawn dropped the robe and put a foot in the bath while Marjory ducked out into the hallway.
By the time the nurse returned, Dawn was immersed up to her chin with her eyes closed.
“Now, Hector.” Marjory pulled a chair over and sat next to the bath. “The old goat did indeed claim a kiss. And then I swatted him for being so bold.”
Marjory picked up a tin dipper and wet Dawn’s hair. “What else do you want to know?”
So many things, like did Lord Seton see her as a nuisance he wanted rid of or a woman he wanted to know? And why had he not married to provide the estate with a lady and his nephew with a maternal figure? But such questions would reveal she found the earl both handsome and perplexing. “Have you looked after Lady Letitia for long?”
The nurse breathed out a sigh as though remembering days long ago. “Ever since I was a young lass.”
Dawn frowned. That wasn’t possible. Lettie looked to be in her early twenties. By contrast, Marjory appeared to be in her sixties. If she had care of her charge since she was a lass that would make Lady Letitia closer to eighty. That was an impossibility.
“You mean since Lettie was a young girl?” If Lord Julian had died just before Elijah was born, Lettie would only have been five or six years old. No wonder the tragedy had marred her young mind.
A frown pulled on Marjory’s face for a moment. “Yes, silly me. I meant I have lived here and worked for the family since I was a lass.”
“Have you known Hector all that time?” He likewise seemed a permanent part of the estate’s family.
“Oh, yes. I well remember him from the very first day I arrived here. Such a fine lad with thick black hair that swept off his forehead like a raven’s wing. Tall and muscled he was from working out in the fields. All the girls would swoon when he swaggered past.” Marjory giggled and it made her seem years younger.