His Colonial Rose

by Vanessa Brooks

  Chapter Five

  Merriton was as ready as it would ever be for the annual autumn house party. This year was different of course. This year the future Countess of Straddock was to attend and the house servants were agog with the news. Each member of staff from the lowliest scullery maid to the Head Butler, Roberts, did their best to make Merriton Hall appear to its best advantage. They were of nervous excitement, wishing to please their future mistress and every servant fulfilled their task with fervour. Cook was absolutely determined to showcase her abilities to perfection, which meant that each member of the kitchen staff suffered under her sharp tongue.

  Rose had not been able to formulate a plan to avoid the up-coming nuptials. The date for the house party arrived and she was compelled to visit as planned.

  Lord Mortimer sent her a nosegay of flowers every day from the time of the picnic up until the day of their departure. She managed to toss several into the scullery rubbish, until cook insisted they go to a more worthy cause so they were taken to a local foundling home. The image of being upended over Benedict's knee with her skirts tossed over her head and his unrelenting palm coming down on her backside played over and over in her mind. She was beyond furious. In fact, she was positively livid, so the thought of accepting his tokens of affection nauseated her. Her father told her that she was being petulant and quite silly but after several arguments with him about her attitude to the intended betrothal, they were once again on non-speaking terms.

  Wide vistas of hedged fields full of contented fat sheep accompanied their travel to Merriton Hall. The carriage wound up the long gravelled driveway, and all the while, Pippin bounced upon the seat barking out the window at the livestock. This was a most prosperous looking stately home and as the carriage came to a halt, Rose was speechless. A lovely stone façade with sweeping Palladian steps led up to a pair of oak doors carved with the family's crest. There was nothing in the Colonies to compare to such a place, even the Governor's mansion in Williamsburg paled into comparison.

  Several footmen greeted the entourage and Pippin happily bounced down the carriage steps after his mistress. A beautiful short haired, brown and white Collie dog trotted over and Pippin immediately ran towards it across the lawn. The two dogs greeted each other as if they were long lost friends and took off running across the grass. Little traitor, thought Rose with amusement.

  She gazed up at the forbidding mansion before her; it was hard not to be intimidated by such grandeur. No matter, Rose didn't care that Benedict lived in a house that resembled a palace. Rose was indifferent to his wealth and status. As far as she was concerned, they were not engaged to be married and she was so homesick for Virginia that thought sometimes she might die. An overwhelming wave of sadness swept her heart and she felt that every step she took toward the house was a step toward the gallows. Well, as her aunt used to say, "There is more than one way to skin a cat." Rose would make that British prig rue the day he ever crossed her path.

  Once they had all entered Merriton Hall, Rose and Henry were introduced to Lady Beatrice, Benedict's mother. Even though she must have been in her fifties, her beauty had not been diminished over the years. Benedict's dark good looks came directly from her and she possessed the same piercing blue eyes. Benedict's sixteen year old sister, Imogene, was delightful and seemed in thrall with the American guests. She had large curious brown eyes and soft fudge coloured hair to match. There was a hint of Beatrice about her, but for the most part, Rose suspected Imogene favoured her father.

  After their greeted arrival, the ladies retired to their chambers, expected to rest for most of the afternoon. Rose was more than happy to take a little refreshment and enjoy a quiet lie down. She was exhausted from travelling. By late afternoon, a quiet knock sounded at her bedroom door. Eloise she knew to be downstairs with the other servants and Rose couldn't imagine who it might be.

  "Come in," Rose called and Imogene Mortimer's head peeked in around the side of the door.

  "I hope that you don't mind, Miss Randolph, I simply wished to say hello, away from all the other guests you know."

  Rose patted the bed. "Come sit beside me."

  Imogene raced over to Rose's side. "I am so very glad to have you here, it is a great pleasure to get to know my new sister." Imogene gazed at Rose with awe like devotion. "My goodness, how lovely you are!" Rose smiled at Imogene for she appeared to be such a sweet girl. This was someone who could perhaps become an ally and a major asset in her quest to punish Benedict. The two girls chatted and giggled happily as they enjoyed getting to know one another. Rose was overjoyed to learn that Imogene had been taking harpsichord lessons.

  "Do you know any English folk songs?" Rose asked her.

  "Um, I'm not very accomplished at the harpsichord as yet and my tutor despairs at my lack of ability," Imogene replied modestly. "Actually, I don't much like to play. I can manage a little Handel reasonably well enough now though."

  "Oh, that should be perfect for us to do a duet together. Let's see, do you know, 'Where e're Ye Walk?'" Imogene's face lit up.

  "Oh, my music master has been teaching me that and we have worked on the piece."

  "Excellent!" Rose clapped her hands. "We shall perform it together this evening after dinner."

  Imogene looked rather nervous. "Well, so long as you understand that I am only just learning the piece. I really do not practice as much as I am supposed to. I think it annoys Benedict that I am not improving as I ought."

  "Not to worry, you shall be wonderful I am certain! Let's keep this between us as a surprise. Just between you and me until the performance, of course." Innocently, Imogene happily agreed.

  Everyone gathered for dinner. The dining room was lavishly lit with candelabras. The twinkling candlelight glinted off the family silver and heavy crystal goblets; the table was laid for a sumptuous feast. Rose sparkled and charmed every person at the table. Benedict looked as if he wanted to devour her but Rose pretended not to notice him at all.

  Beatrice kindly leaned toward her, smilingly. "Have you any accomplishments or special interests, my dear?"

  "I enjoy painting with water colours and I do credible needle work, Lady Beatrice, I also like to sing. We do have a little culture away across the sea in the Colonies." Rose gave a humble smile and looked down at her plate.

  "Oh, my dear, how delightful. You must sing something for us tonight after dinner. Imogene is gradually becoming accomplished on the harpsichord."

  "Yes," Benedict murmured, "that is one way of putting it."

  Rose agreed and Imogene shifted excitedly in her seat.

  "Imogene, sit still and remember your manners, my dear!"

  "Yes, Mama." Imogene looked crestfallen and embarrassed but Rose gave her a wink and Imogene's lips lifted as she smiled back.

  When dinner was finished, Imogene crossed to the music room and sat at the harpsichord. She began to tap at the keys as the guests made their way, glancing at each other, from the dining room into the music room. Tonight Rose was to entertain and she could hardly wait for her recital to begin. Her father beamed with pride as he bragged of Rose's vocal prowess. "Why, my daughter has the most beautiful singing voice in all of the Colonies," Henry stated, nodding and puffing out his chest. "Why she even sang at the Governor's ball last Christmas."

  The Mortimer's took their seats in the front row of chairs, placed there by the footmen, ready for the evening's entertainment. Rose's father chose to relax on the settee nearer to the harpsichord. Benedict leaned forward with interest from his front row seat. Rose stood next to the harpsichord with her hands clasped, back straight. She curtsied and then placed her white gloved hand upon the polished case of the instrument and gave a slight nod. Imogene began the introduction.

  A sour note was obvious in every other phrase and it sounded as if one of the house cats was pouncing upon the harpsichord keys. The pace of the tune consequently suffered, the tones rose and fell embarrassingly out of key.

  Rose began to sing and her notes were,
indeed, beautifully rounded; the vowels rang true and the consonants were given perfect concussion.

  "Where're ye walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;

  Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade:

  Where're ye tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise;

  And all things flourish where're you turn your eyes."

  The audience was captivated. Rose's voice had a crystal, melodious quality and her high notes were even more beautiful than the low ones. Not one misstep did she make. Her voice was so lovely no one even noticed Imogene's struggling performance as she plunked heavily at the harpsichord. A spell fell over the room and Rose flowed easily through each verse. She sang louder and louder as she came toward the end of the piece. Imogene crashed the keys as hard as she could moving into the final flourish. Rose opened her mouth and sang at the top of her lungs, "Trees, where you…" Rose mixed the words sit with shade and bellowed, "Trees, where you SHIT... Shall c-r-o-w-d in-to… uh… shade."

  The room froze. No one knew what to do, should they clap? Should they laugh? Rose watched as her father turned bright red, beginning with his bald pate the colour spreading down his whole face and neck. Rose could see the parlour maid snickering by the door and the footmen all had their heads lowered and didn't dare to look up.

  Benedict stood quickly and loosened the cravat at his neck. Rose blinked wide-eyed at the crowd. "Uh, I am so dreadfully sorry, I meant, 'trees' where you shit… oops, I mean, sit, and shall crowd into a shit, uh… oh!"

  "Rose, that is quite enough, my dear," Benedict said as he quickly crossed toward her, attempting to manoeuvre her away from the harpsichord. "I'm sure we all know that you meant another word entirely." Meanwhile Imogene sat at the harpsichord with her mouth gaping open with shock.

  Rose pressed a gloved hand to her lips to keep herself from giggling as hysterical laughter bubbled up from inside her.

  The next morning, the conversation remained somewhat stilted. Rose's swearing mishap amidst her song had cast a pall over the place. At breakfast, Rose could tell Benedict was unsure whether she had intended to do it deliberately or not.

  Well, that was perfect; she now had him just where she wanted him. Benedict went to the sideboard and helped himself to eggs, bacon and kidneys. Sitting back down at the table, he shook out his white napkin.

  "I should prefer it if we took a small break from any more musical recitals, just for a little while, Miss Rose," he said looking uncomfortable. Rose looked up with rounded innocent eyes.

  "Oh? Well yes, my Lord, perfectly understandable. Truly my gaff last night was absolutely unforgiveable."

  Benedict cocked a dubious eyebrow at her. "Perhaps not unforgiveable but certainly uncomfortable. Rose, please do not call me, my Lord, it is all together appropriate for you to call me by my given name now that we are officially engaged." Rose set her jaw stubbornly but made no reply. It would be a cold day in hell before she became as familiar as that with him! She would rather call him nothing than refer to him in such a personal way.

  Chapter Six

  Rose finished her breakfast and excused herself from the table. She gathered that others had awakened from the sound of their footsteps as people made their down the stairs. She preferred her own company to that of others and she certainly had enough of Benedict Mortimer's presence. Deciding to take a stroll out into the gardens, she went out through the back of the house via dark passages and storage rooms. Formal English gardens flowed out from the house and quite the loveliest rose garden Rose had ever encountered spilled down the hill.

  She walked in amongst the scented roses, plants and perennials. Pippin was digging for all he was worth in one corner of the garden and Rose called to him. He raced toward her and she picked up a stick and threw it for him, he would never retrieve it but would run like a rabbit, bite at the stick and then keep on going. Rose laughed merrily at his antics. The Mortimer's young collie, Holly, acted as Pippin's shadow but she retrieved the stick returning it to Rose, proffering it held within her soft mouth, to be thrown over and over again. Imogene had told her the collie's name the day before, Rose laughed at the rhyming, Holly the collie.

  After their fun, the two dogs ran up to her for a pat, their tongues lolling out of their mouths and panting with exertion. Rose reached down and gave them each a good rub. Then they flopped over onto their backs for a belly rub and she happily obliged. Rose thought that Holly was absolutely beautiful. She had the classic shape of her breed, uncannily human green eyes and she appeared to be extremely intelligent. It seemed she had found a new friend in Pippin who was busy teaching her some naughty new tricks that the obedient collie would never even have thought of if not for the terrible terrier! The two of them had nearly destroyed one corner of the flower garden with their demented digging, their paws covered in mud… hmm, that gave Rose an idea…

  Rose skipped into the house via the boot room and both the dogs followed her in. She had found a side entrance that presently did not contain either guests or servants. Arriving at the top of the stairs leading into the main entrance hall, Rose opened the door and the dogs happily ran inside. Rose watched from a crack in the partly open door as they raced down the hallway on into the main section of the house. Each canine carried the evidence of their morning dig upon their paws and coats.

  Rose covered her mouth as she giggled hearing Benedict's roar. "Who let these dogs into the house in this state?" Interpreting his yell for a shout of pleasure, Pippin's sharp bark set off Holly who then joined in with her deeper collie voice. Rose could hear scrambling and more barking. "Somebody get these blasted dogs out of here… Roberts!"

  Rose skipped away leaving Benedict to deal with his dog dilemma. She had espied a lovely fish pond on her walk and it beckoned her outside. There was a garden seat set to one side and she rested beside the lily pool enjoying the late summer sunshine. Truly, Merriton Hall was beyond beautiful; it was fit for a princess. Rose gazed around the well-kept grounds and back up at the old mellow house. Any girl would give anything to become the mistress of such a place... any girl except her.

  Rose's thoughts drifted to Benedict. Why oh why did he have to be so handsome? Whilst in the country, he kept his long dark hair unpowdered and tied in a que at the nape of his neck. Rose wondered what he would look like with it spilled loose. She thought again about that kiss he had given her at the picnic. It made her shiver and caused a fluttery feeling deep in her stomach. The spanking, however, made her temper flare and reminded her how much she wanted to return to the Colonies, where her world was familiar and safe.

  Rose explored, wandering from the gardens into a field, and turning to look back at the house, she noticed the stables past the left hand side of the main house. Rose decided to meander over that way next. The head groom was working inside and gave her a polite, yet warm greeting, "Mornin, mistress, Able Brown at your service."

  "Good morning, Mr. Brown, I am Rose Randolph, how do you do?" Mr. Brown tipped his hat.

  "May I look at the mounts?" Rose asked.

  "Of course, mistress, there be a nice gentle mare, third stall down, her name be Abby, t' master said she were for your use."

  "Oh, thank you. Do you have a curry comb I could use? I'd love to brush her out."

  "That be no job for a lady, ma'am, Jimmy the stable lad will do for ye."

  "If it's just the same with you, sir, I'd like to do it myself. If I am to ride Abby, she needs to get to know me."

  Mr. Brown pushed his hat back and raised his eyebrows. "Yonder be the curry combs, help yerself, lass." Rose crossed to the wall of combs and brushes and chose one from the shelf.

  "Thank you kindly, Mr. Brown."

  Rose walked along the horse stalls until she came to Abby's. She was a beautiful roan English saddle horse, she had large brown eyes and a darker mane; her long face looked kind and gentle.

  As Rose entered the stall, Mr. Brown called after her, "Beware of the Master's stallion, mistress. His stall is down from Miss Abby's. He's a brute o
f a horse and Devil's Fire be his name. The Master calls him Devil for short. Mind me now, mistress; no one handles him but the Master."

  "Of course, I understand," Rose replied. No one other than the Master had handled him until now, she thought, Devil's Fire indeed. She had heard the horse thumping about in his stall while she crooned to Abby. How appropriate that Benedict should own such a horse, why, he even had the same temperament as Benedict did!

  Abby clopped over to Rose and nudged her with a soft nose. Rose stretched out her hands and let Abby smell her. The horse's sensitive nose twitched back and forth and Rose patted Abby's sleek neck. "You are a beauty, girl." Rose then went to work with the curry comb.

  "I see you've found Abby." Benedict's deep voice came from the door of the stall. Rose looked up as she ran the brush now over and over the mare's flanks.

  "Yes, I thank you for the mount, my Lord." Benedict stood still and watched her for a few moments.

  "The groom usually does that job."

  Rose continued to comb. "A mount needs to be acquainted with its rider and grooming is a good way for a horse to get to know your touch."

  Benedict leaned against the gate as he gazed at Rose.

  "You seem to know horses, are you a good horse woman?"

  "I seem to do all right with them," Rose said as she finished with the brushing and stepped to the stall door which Benedict held open for her. Devil temperamentally kicked his stall and Benedict glanced in his direction. Rose shook her head, nodding at the stall. "I've already been warned about him."

  "Good, you're to stay well clear of him, do you understand? He can be a dangerous animal." Rose nodded but made no reply and she decided to change the subject.

  "I overheard that there is to be a pheasant shoot this afternoon. I wonder if I might attend, I do so enjoy shooting."

  Benedict looked surprised. "No, I am afraid that ladies are not permitted to shoot, it is for gentlemen only."