Fortune's Flower

by Mary Ellen Boyd

  “My father claims the house never belonged to Andrew. He said,” Damon seemed to catch himself. “Well, that is neither here nor there, but the house was not theirs. It still remains with my father. So, no, I’m sorry. I fear she will not be able to move back.”

  “It never belonged to Andrew?” How strange. “I have no doubt it is filled with precious items, probably gifts Andrew bought her. Is she ever going to get any of those back?”

  Damon ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know. I am truly sorry. I did not even think to ask. I will see to it that she gets at least some of her possessions.” He sighed again. “The rest goes to the heir, which is now me.”

  Verbena tried not to react.

  He did not seem to notice anything wrong. “I still have my own place in London so my father may see no rush on resolving the situation with Andrew’s. I will ask Edeline to give me a list of what she wants. Certainly there will be clothes. I will have them packed up and shipped here. But as I say, I don’t know when that will be.”

  “I – we are very grateful.”

  He cleared his throat, although it did not seem to be clouded. “I had hoped to stay here, but I must now get back to London myself. I have business of my own that has waited far too long already. I don’t how long it will take.”

  “This is most kind of you. I know we have been a terrible burden on you. I don’t know . . . ” she floundered to a stop. Will you ever come back? She hoped the question was not written on her face as she looked up at him, trying to hold his face in her mind, his eyes like dark pools that seemed to pull her in, his hair with its rich waves that tempted her to touch, his face of such masculine beauty with the strong nose, high cheekbones, and firm chin.

  She stepped back so he could enter.

  *

  Damon let out a breath. He still felt her hand on his sleeve. “Verbena. I will be back. I promise.”

  He had hoped to stay longer, but it was not possible.

  Courtship was indeed a difficult business.

  He touched his pocket to make sure the draft his father had written was still safely there, and followed Verbena into the house.

  CHAPTER 12

  Damon left his bedroom for breakfast at eight the next morning. The house was quiet, thank goodness. He was tired of guests. He was tired of the ton gossip that accompanied every meal. And of the young women who wanted to flirt. Or insisted he hold their thread when they tried to embroider. Or begged him to tell them what every flower in the garden was. What did he know about flowers?

  Except verbena. He knew that one. And its namesake. Or was the flower her namesake?

  He started down the long stairway to the main floor. Maybe he would actually make it through one meal without being interrupted.

  The big dining room was nearly empty for the first time in four days, not counting the two footmen. Food already sat on the sideboard, bacon, fried ham, slices of beef that still steamed their fragrance into the air. Fresh-baked bread, marmalades, jams, even a dish of stewed dried fruit. A pot of tea sat in its brace above the burner, keeping warm.

  The only other person in the room was his father, in his usual place at the far end of the big table. “Get yourself some breakfast, Damon, before we are interrupted.” Edward nodded at the spread. “If we plan it well enough, we might be able to avoid our guests for a whole day, and then hopefully this will be the last time for a while that we’ll have to put up with them.”

  Damon smiled. His thoughts exactly. “Bold statement, Father. And how are we going to pull this amazing feat off?”

  “The men wished to go out shooting again. They will be gone most of the day. After that, I intend to see that they leave.”

  “I wish you every success.” Shooting. Damon remembered Verbena’s outrage that the villagers who had lived here for generations, had hunted in those very woods, were now banned. Of course they heard the guns. What must they think as guests hunted for sport while those who lived here could not hunt for food?

  The land still belonged to his father to do with what he wished, but when his father was gone, fences or no fences, he would let the villagers hunt again.

  He stopped at the bacon, and looked over his shoulder. “You will keep your word about the settlement with Edeline.” It was not a question.

  His father scowled, his eyebrows nearly meeting. “Again? If I am going to keep you from dragging our name through the dirt by supporting that woman yourself, I shall have to, won’t I?” Edward lifted a cup of tea to his mouth. Damon could smell the hot brew from where he stood. “I gave my word. That should be good enough for you.”

  He walked over to his father’s right, a footman pulled out a chair, and he sat down. The man poured him a cup of steaming tea. Damon nodded his thanks. “We won’t need you further. Thank you.” The footman nodded and both of them exited.

  Edward waited until the door had closed. He set down his cup with a clink. “Your concern for them troubles me. You worry that I will not keep my word. I worry that you will not keep your own. You say you are not interested in your sister-in-law, but I see no reason to believe you.”

  Damon cut his father off. “I barely know the woman. Regardless, my interest lies elsewhere. I am only interested in justice for Edeline. That is all.” That was not exactly a lie, Damon decided.

  “I am relieved it hear that.” His father’s face relaxed. “I suppose you will not give me this fortunate woman’s name?”

  “It is much too early to speak of it yet.”

  A smile pulled his father’s mouth upward. “Is this mysterious woman someone I know?”

  Damon looked his father straight in the eye. “I think not.”

  Edward gave a sharp nod. “I understand. Well, do let me know as soon as it is settled, will you? And as for your sister-in-law, I know you are not happy with the sum I decided upon, but I will not beggar us to keep that woman in funds.”

  “Beggar? Two hundred fifty pounds a year?”

  “Damon,” his father interrupted, which was probably just as well. “I know that family and you do not. I thought we settled this matter yesterday. I tell you they are all greedy, grasping, moneygrubbers, and the father is no more than a drunken sot.”

  Damon stopped cutting at his beef. “They are land-owners, just as we are.”

  “They won’t be land-owners long.” His father puffed himself up as if taking credit.

  And maybe he was. Damon went cold. He set the utensils down. “What have you done, Father?”

  Edward looked honestly surprised. “Me? Nothing. I have done nothing. I don’t need to. Parliament is doing it all for me. I am not even in Parliament. You can hardly place the blame for their downfall on me. But neither will I mourn if they lose their land and have to move away. I will be more than glad to see the back of them.”

  Damon could not move for a moment. His breath seemed to stop. Verbena, Julius, Matthew, the girls? Losing their land? He knew things were difficult at the Barnes’ but he did not think it this serious. Where would they go, what would they do? He had seen too much of starving to wish it on anyone, much less this family of whom he had become so fond.

  His appetite deserted him. “I don’t think I’m as hungry as I thought. If you will excuse me?” He rose and gave a stiff bow.

  “I find the same thing myself. I have not felt like eating since your brother died. Go out, get some fresh air.” Edward’s mouth, so recently smiling, turned down. “If you can find any unpolluted by guests.”

  Damon had not reached the door before his father called out one last command. “Be sure you join the rest of us in the office in an hour. We have plans to make as a family. Your mother needs all of our support.”

  *

  It had been a near thing. One of the tittering, twittering guests, a young woman just out of the schoolroom and anxious to make a success of her first season, followed him to the room where the private family meeting was held. “I’m so glad I found you. I would be happy to help you through the garden.
It is beautiful this time of day.”

  She would escort him! As if he was so crippled he needed help to walk around his own family’s garden! Damon refused to think that a few short months ago, he would have needed that very help. He had nearly lost his patience, and only managed to turn her away by saying, rather firmly, “Thank you, but no.” He then slipped inside and shut the door.

  From where he stood by the bookshelf, Damon looked around his father’s study. The entire family had indeed shown up here, out of earshot of any curious guests. Entire remaining family, he corrected himself. Andrew’s absence was a gaping hole, all the more so when they gathered like this.

  Silhouetted against the glare of the window, Edward stood behind the desk, next to Imogene, who sat in the big leather–covered chair that normally belonged to the family head. It matched the desk in size, big furniture designed to intimidate any poor soul called to account. Damon knew. As a child he had been dragged into this room for punishment more times than he cared to remember.

  Edward rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I think it best for all of us to leave this place. We will return to London tomorrow morning. There are . . .”

  His mother interrupted. “We have been here long enough. Of course, we will miss the rest of this Season because we are in mourning, but that is no reason not to be seen about London.” Imogene turned to the girls. “You two will be able to reenter Society by the time the next Season starts in the spring, so we want to make the most of our time the next few months. We will remain through the winter. Our choices of where we can properly be seen will be limited, but one never knows who one might run into in something as innocuous as a trip to church.”

  Edward patted his wife’s shoulder. “Now, Imogene, we have more important things to think about than husband-hunting.”

  She swiveled the big chair and glared up at him. “Nothing is more important for your daughters than that!” She rose and walked around the desk. “As your father said, we will be leaving early, so I suggest you pack only what you will need for the trip. We will of course have to get a new wardrobe for our mourning when we get into London.”

  She got to the door before Catherine and Margaret even got out of their chairs. “Girls? Come along! There is no time to waste.” And she ushered the girls out.

  Damon turned to his father. “We still have guests. What do you plan to do with them? Push them out onto the lawn?”

  Edward glared at him. “It is time for them to go. I can’t be the only one who is tired of them. I intend to see everyone is informed by this evening that we will be leaving.”

  “What about the servants?”

  “Most will come with us. I plan to close Thernwood up, except for the barest of staff. I would rather not come back for a while. It will do us all good to spend a winter there, instead of surrounded by painful memories.”

  Damon said nothing. He had promised to bring back some treasured pieces for Edeline. She had given him a list of gifts she had received from Andrew that she wanted back, but there were other items as well. He had seen in it the war where fancy gifts were few, widows clinging to a glove, a hat, a belt, anything they could save that would bring comfort and hold memories.

  It seemed Edeline was no different.

  Perhaps in his efforts for her sister Verbena would see that he could ensure she would not receive the same treatment as Edeline had at the hands of his family.

  *

  It was time to put the final part of his plan to help the Barnes into effect. Damon dismounted, and walked through the small collection of stores his village boasted, from the carpenter to the blacksmith to the apothecary who vied for business with the doctor, to the small storekeeper who sold oddities like covered oil lamps, dishes and woven fabrics from local weavers and even as far away as London. The man even from time to time quietly sold wine from France, though Damon had never asked how it got this far inland, or who wooed it away from the smugglers.

  At each shop Damon requested that if the Barnes came to purchase anything, the bills be sent to him. To protect everyone’s reputation, he made certain they knew it was for Edeline’s sake, that his family was taking care of both her and her family while she recovered.

  Not too many years ago, he would not have been overly concerned about gossip. This new concern for the proprieties sat easily on him, and he liked the feeling. He did not know if Verbena ever came to the village to shop, but if she did, he would smooth this part of her life for her, even if it had to be done on the premise that it was because of her sister.

  It would go a long way to redeeming his family in her eyes.

  After the last store, Damon remounted his horse and found himself facing the dusty road that would take him to Verbena’s house. He drew his horse up and stopped, looking down the break in the heavy trees.

  He did not know how long it would take to get the business in London completed.

  He could only hope he would not be gone long.

  CHAPTER 13

  Five months later

  Darkness was falling. Verbena stirred the soup, grateful for the heat of the fireplace. Despite their efforts to keep the house warm, winter had been particularly nasty and the boys had to go out every few days to scavenge for wood. Storm followed storm, and the wind pushed the snow into fantasy shapes all around the house and the trees.

  Another gust rattled the windows, and a tendril of cold seeped across the floor, to tease her ankles under the skirt.

  Annabelle and Lizabeth sat behind her at the table, working on their studies, and today it was spelling. “Annabelle, the next word is America.”

  “America, a-m-e-r – ”

  “You forgot something. Do you know what that is?”

  “I do, I do!” Lizabeth piped up. But to her credit, and after a number of scoldings at her taunting of her younger sister, she said nothing more.

  “I can do it!” A moment of silence followed. “Oh! I remember. Capital A, m-e-r-i…” Another pause. “C? No, k. No, c? a?”

  Verbena had to turn around to smile at her sister. “Very good!”

  She did not know how much of the improved behavior was Lizabeth maturing, how much was her own efforts to play Mother to the girls, and how much was having regular hearty meals and a – mostly – warm house. Whatever it was, she was grateful. Mingled in with the gratitude was a painful twinge of humiliation. How she hated being a burden! Were it not for the children, she did not think she would have been able to accept such constant charity from Edeline.

  Not just Edeline, either. Damon had worked something out with the storekeepers so they did not have to pay for anything. The food they ate, the soaps they bought, even fabric for a few, a cautiously few, new pieces of clothes for each of them, all had been covered. Matthew got his own new pantaloons, and Julius bought two books on science, which he was still happily devouring. “Young Thern said it were all paid. For yer sister,” one of the storekeepers had said the first time it happened, when she was ready to pay for her purchases and pulled out the pound notes Edeline sent. “E said it were ’er allowance, like.”

  Then he had leaned close, bad breath and all, and added, “Personally, I thinks old Thern ain’t in on it. If it twere me, I would not tell the old man nuthin neither.”

  If the villagers were surprised at the sudden communications going back and forth between Verbena and her aunt, no one said anything. And if anyone surmised that Edeline had gone there, no one said anything about that either.

  Thernwood was silent, as if the Thern family had never been there at all. No, not the family. Damon. He had not been back. The boxes of Edeline’s treasures had arrived, but not him. Inside the box had been a polite note apologizing for having to send them by messenger, but that family affairs had not allowed him to deliver in person. He hoped all was well with them, and concluded with a ‘most sincerely.’

  She tried to remember, but she did not think he had actually said when he would come back. Would it be for a summer house party, with an a
dded visit to a distant relative?

  Each time that thought cropped up, a strange pain bloomed in the middle of her chest, right where her heart was.

  A totally inappropriate response, she told herself. There had been nothing between them. One walk and several visits, even repairs to the house, did not a courtship make.

  Yet, Verbena missed him. No doubt he was squiring some young heiress about London. He had done what he could for his sister-in-law and her family, and now it was time to concern himself with his own responsibilities.

  “Bena? Bena?” Lizabeth’s voice sounded worried. How long had she been lost in her thoughts? “What is the next word, Bena?”

  Before she could answer, before she could remember which word she had even chosen, a sharp rap shook the front door.

  “Who can that be?” Maybe it was a letter from Edeline. She wiped her hands on her ever-present apron and went to the door.

  She did not recognize the old man standing there in the icy twilight.

  “Miss Barnes?” Her name came out on a cloud of frosty white air. When she nodded hesitantly, he held out a large envelope. Verbena immediately recognized Aunt Mabel’s handwriting.

  Aunt Mabel had never delivered a letter by messenger before.

  “Please, come in out of the cold.” Verbena swung the door wide, and stepped back.

  “Most kind, miss, most kind of you.” The man stepped into the vestibule, taking the time to close the door behind him and seal the biting cold out.

  The letter was bulky. Something inside slid around when she turned it over to find the opening. She ripped her aunt’s seal off, and unfolded the paper. Money fell onto the floor in a solid thump, tied with string to hold all the notes together. The man bent over and retrieved the stack while she stared in astonishment at such a large sum. She’d never seen so many pound notes in her life. It was as thick as a slice of bread. She shook herself and scanned the large, wavy letters that sprawled across the page.