by Linda Finlay
‘Well, that’s defeatist talk if ever I heard it. What we need is some fresh air to revive us,’ she said, tugging on the bell pull. ‘Daisy,’ she said, as the little maid appeared, ‘tell Coggins to make the carriage ready. When he says it’s his day for doing the garden, you may tell him that Mrs Acland has been watching him smoking his pipe behind the potting shed for the past twenty minutes and as he has time to waste, he may switch his duties to the horses.’ Daisy’s eyes widened in amazement but she scuttled from the room so quickly that Mrs Acland burst out laughing.
‘Oh dear, that will set the fox amongst the chickens. Talking of foxes, in the wardrobe in your room, you will find a fox stole, Rowan. You can wear that when we take a carriage ride around the park.’ Rowan glanced down at the dainty slippers on her feet and Mrs Acland followed her gaze. ‘We shall need to get you sized for some shoes whilst we are out. However, those will suffice for sitting in the carriage.’
Upstairs in the Lilac Room, Rowan stared at the glassy eyes of the dead fox and shuddered. Next to the stole hung a plaid cape and, hoping Mrs Acland wouldn’t mind, she wrapped that around her shoulders instead.
‘Couldn’t you find the fox fur?’ Mrs Acland enquired as Rowan descended the stairs.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Acland, but I couldn’t bear to wear a dead animal.’
‘Oh, well, as long as you have something to keep the chill at bay,’ the woman replied.
Sitting opposite Mrs Acland in the fine carriage as they circled the beautiful parkland, Rowan began to enjoy herself. It was such a contrast to the stark airing courts with their towering walls that kept out most of the light. Here, the trees were bursting into leaf and the shrubs were ablaze with colour. They drove past a lake on which mottled, fluffy ducklings were being carried along on their mothers’ backs. Further on, a pen swan was sitting on her untidy nest whilst her mate protectively stood guard. Lily pads were floating on the surface, and Rowan laughed as a dog chasing a stick slid from the muddy bank into the water. It gave an outraged yap and then, realizing the lake wasn’t very deep, bounded out again, shaking itself all over its indignant owner.
‘It’s good to see you happy, Rowan,’ Mrs Acland said.
‘How could I not be when you have been so kind?’ Rowan replied, glancing down at the parcel beside her. After having had Rowan sized for shoes in Exeter, Mrs Acland had insisted on treating her to a length of emerald silk from the nearby draper’s.
‘You will have something to keep you occupied until we find a suitable position for you. I suppose if I were practical we’d have bought some cotton material for you to make another day dress, but it’s so boring being sensible all the time, don’t you think?’ Mrs Acland’s eyes twinkled in amusement. ‘Oh, there’s Verity,’ she said, suddenly tapping on the roof with her steel-topped cane. The carriage duly drew up alongside another one, and Rowan saw an elegantly dressed young woman wave her gloved hand in acknowledgement. However, Mrs Acland had pulled down the window and was calling out in greeting.
‘Good afternoon, Verity. I trust you are keeping well?’
‘Oh, I mustn’t grumble, but life can be such a trial sometimes, can’t it?’ Verity said, giving a sigh. From her expression, you would think she had the troubles of the world on her shoulders twice over, Rowan thought.
Mrs Acland ignored the sighing. ‘Verity, I’d like to introduce you to Rowan Clode. She is staying with us for the time being.’ The young woman gave Rowan the ‘once-over assessing look’, as her auntie Sal called it. Obviously, she found Rowan wanting, for her eyes narrowed.
‘Is Alexander at home?’ she enquired, giving Rowan a dismissive look.
‘No, Verity, he is away on his rounds. However, he will be home at the weekend, so why don’t you come for dinner on Saturday evening? Shall we say seven for seven thirty?’
The woman nodded and then signalled for her driver to move on. As her carriage drew away Rowan turned to Mrs Acland.
‘Is something wrong?’ the woman asked, noting her concerned look.
‘No, not really, it’s just that I thought Alex … I mean Mr Acland, would be returning tonight,’ she said. She explained all about Susan and how bad she felt at leaving the asylum without her. ‘I’m so anxious to find out how Susan is,’ she finished.
‘Yes, I’m sure you are, Rowan, and don’t worry, Alexander will be home either tonight or tomorrow at the latest. It all depends on how long his business at the asylum takes him. We all know how treacherous those peat bogs are, and I have forbidden him to travel once darkness has fallen. He chides me for fussing, but secretly, I think he’s relieved,’ she added, with a smile.
‘Then why … ?’ Rowan came to a halt, not wishing to appear rude.
‘Why did I tell Verity he wouldn’t be back until the weekend?’ Rowan nodded. ‘Well, the truth is that Verity has set her cap at Alexander and he, naughty boy, is dragging his heels, as it were.’ Rowan smiled at the superintendent being described as a ‘naughty boy’. ‘Of course, it is high time he remarried but Alexander is not a man to be hurried. Understandable, really. He was devoted to his wife. Alas, she died giving birth to their first child. She had a heart condition no one knew about and was just too weak,’ she sighed.
‘What about the baby?’ Rowan asked.
Mrs Acland shook her head sorrowfully. ‘Poor Alexander, he withdrew into his shell.’
‘Oh, how terrible for him, and for you, of course, Mrs Acland,’ Rowan whispered, but the woman merely nodded and gave the roof a sharp tap with her cane.
As the carriage moved on Rowan couldn’t help thinking of Susan, and her heart gave a lurch. She crossed her fingers that her friend would be all right, but her ribbon suddenly tightened. As if she’d picked up on Rowan’s thoughts, Mrs Acland reached out and patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry; I’m sure your friend will be fine. She sounds like a robust, bouncy kind of person from what you’ve told me.’
Rowan watched the scenery gliding by, but her enjoyment was gone, for she couldn’t shake off the feeling of foreboding that had settled over her like a shroud.
Back in her room, she unpacked the beautiful material and laid it out on the table. Then, overcome with restlessness, she went over to the window. The sun had disappeared, replaced now by ominous, lowering clouds. As she watched, one separated then appeared to curl into the shape of a baby, but where the neck should have been, a vortex of mist was spiralling round and round. The ribbon around her wrist tightened, and she tugged at the drapes to blot out the sight. She couldn’t help feeling she should have asked for Susan to be released with her, yet she had hardly known she was being freed herself. Shivering, she settled into the chair beside the fire and waited impatiently for Mr Acland to come home. A tap on the door made her jump.
‘Come in,’ she called, and immediately Daisy appeared.
‘Yous shouldn’t be sitting in the dark, miss,’ she said, scuttling over and lighting the lamp. ‘Mr Acland has arrived and said he’ll see you in the parlour. He don’t look none too happy.’
‘Thank you, Daisy,’ Rowan said, her heart sinking. She smoothed down her skirts and then she ran down the stairs.
As soon as she entered the parlour, Mr Acland got to his feet.
‘Please sit down, Rowan,’ he said. His expression was bleak and she sank into the chair beside Mrs Acland. The room was heavy with silence.
‘Susan and her baby are dead, aren’t they?’ she blurted out.
‘Yes, Rowan, I’m afraid that is correct,’ he confirmed.
‘They died this afternoon. The poor little baby had the cord wrapped round and round its neck,’ she whispered.
‘But how could you possibly know that, Rowan?’ Mrs Acland asked, staring at her in surprise.
‘I know it’s true,’ she answered. ‘I saw it in the clouds when we got home.’
Mrs Acland and her son exchanged looks.
‘I’m truly sorry about your friend,’ Mr Acland said. ‘I have to return to the asylum first thing in the morning
to continue with investigations into that and many other things. However, I promised I would let you know as soon as I found out anything.’
‘I should have insisted she came here with me,’ Rowan burst out.
There was silence apart from the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and the crackle of logs in the grate.
‘That wouldn’t have been possible, Rowan,’ Mr Acland finally said. ‘An unmarried woman with child would never have been permitted release. And, if by some miracle she had, she would have carried such a stigma she’d never have been able to return home or to her job.’
Rowan nodded, knowing what he said was true.
‘At least she still believed that her Charles would be coming to collect her,’ she said. ‘Oh, I know he would never have had any such intention,’ she cried, as he raised his bushy brows, ‘but Susan believed it.’
‘And that is a comfort upon which you can draw whenever you remember your friend,’ Mrs Acland said softly. ‘Now, I have kept Cook waiting long enough for dinner, so shall we go in? Oh, and talking of dinner, Alexander, we met Verity whilst driving in the park and I have invited her to dine with us on Saturday.’
As he gave a low groan, Rowan turned to Mrs Acland.
‘I really have no appetite, Mrs Acland. Would you mind if I miss dinner?’
‘I understand, my dear. You have had a shock. However, you must eat, so I shall send Daisy up with some broth. That at least will warm and sustain you until the morning.’ Mrs Acland leaned over and patted Rowan’s shoulder.
‘I’m truly sorry about your friend, Rowan. Please feel free to pick any floral tribute from the garden. I’m sure you will wish to say a few words for her,’ Mr Acland said.
‘Thank you, Mr Acland, I would like to do that. Thank you also for travelling back here to tell me about Susan. I appreciate it.’
‘Even if you already knew,’ he said, his eyes heavy with sympathy.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
The air was cool as Rowan hurried out to the garden. The clouds had given way to a clear night, with stars twinkling like the richest diamonds on their velvet blanket and a crescent of silver moon rising in the east. Kicking off her slippers, she selected the brightest flowers to reflect her friend’s sunny personality. Then, kneeling on the damp grass, she lifted her face to the moon and gave thanks for Susan and her baby’s short lives and blessings for the safe passing of their souls. ‘So mote it be,’ she intoned, carefully shaping the flowers into the circle of life.
CHAPTER 22
Rowan spent a restless night, turbulent dreams of the asylum and Susan dying tormenting her. Despite what Mr Acland had said, she still felt she should have tried to get her friend released as well. Perhaps she would still be alive if she’d had treatment outside of the institution.
To her shame, the sun was high in the sky by the time she finally woke. Groggily, she forced herself to get out of bed. Daisy had laid out clean stockings, chemise and petticoats on the back of the chair, and left a jug of water for Rowan to wash with, although it was now quite cold. By the time she’d finished her ablutions and made her way downstairs, Mrs Acland had gone out. However, she had left instructions for the maid to bring Rowan a tray of tea and toast as soon as she appeared.
‘Madam says yous to take it easy today, miss,’ Daisy said, carefully setting out a dish of preserve on the table. ‘She says if yous wishes, yous can turn that material yous brought yesterday into a dress to wear for the dinner on Saturday.’
‘I don’t think that invitation is extended to me, Daisy,’ Rowan answered.
‘Yes, it is. Mrs Acland said it was, so yous to look the part when Miss Verity calls,’ the maid said, wrinkling her nose as she tried to remember her employer’s exact words. ‘Look, me’s still wearing me circle of life,’ she said, holding up her wrist.
Rowan stared at the dead flowers. ‘I think your chain will need renewing every day or so, Daisy,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Oh, me wondered about that. Dead flowers don’t seem right for a circle of life, do they?’
‘I think fresh would be better. I suppose Mr Acland has already left?’ Rowan asked.
‘Yes, he went first thing this morning. He told madam he had a lot to sort out at the asylum ’cos the guards had been negi – negli – or something. Anyway, madam told him he was to be sure to be back in time for dinner on Saturday and he said madam was a right interfering …’
‘Daisy? Where are you, girl? If I catch you gossiping, there’ll be all hell to pay,’ a strident voice called.
‘Blimey, that’s Cook. Better go or she’ll have me guts,’ Daisy whispered. ‘Coming, Cook, and me don’t gossip,’ she called, scuttling away.
Rowan grinned. It seemed the little maid was gaining in confidence.
Rowan took herself back up to the Lilac Room and stared out over the garden. She could see the flowers still lying in the circle she’d created for Susan and her baby. Thoughts of her friend brought a lump to her throat and she shook her head for the sad loss of life. Then she remembered what Mrs Acland had said about drawing comfort from the fact that Susan had died thinking that Charles was coming for her. She supposed the old saying of living in hope was better than the dying in despair bit.
Shaking her head to rid herself of such depressing thoughts, she picked up the emerald silk and held it up in front of the window. Really it was exquisite, and quite the most expensive material Rowan had ever owned. As the silk shimmered like waves on the sea, she was reminded of the green ribbon she’d bought in the market in Sudbury. That seemed in another lifetime now, she thought with a pang. Forcing her thoughts back to her dressmaking, she knew she’d have to cut and sew carefully and vowed that this time she would concentrate. Mrs Acland had been kindness itself and it wouldn’t do to abuse her generosity. Closing her eyes, she visualized the look she wanted to create. Then, spreading out the material on the table, she tentatively made the first cut …
By the time Saturday dawned, the dress was finished. She’d even had enough material to make a matching stole to wear around her shoulders and a couple of tiny bows to attach to the front of the golden slippers. Delighted with the results, she skipped down the stairs for breakfast.
‘Good morning, my dear,’ Mrs Acland greeted her. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, I did, thank you. I trust you did, too?’ Rowan answered, helping herself to a slice of toast from the silver rack.
‘I did, thank you. Now, as you know, I have invited Verity to dinner tonight. How is the emerald dress coming along?’
‘It is quite finished,’ Rowan replied with a grin.
‘Oh, good, I’m so looking forward to seeing it. You have been busy sewing for days but you are looking much better, so I’m guessing it was good for you to be occupied,’ Mrs Acland said.
‘I feel very guilty, though, for you haven’t let me do a thing around the house,’ Rowan said, frowning.
‘Rowan, dear, you must remember you are our guest. However, if you wish to help, this morning you may gather and arrange flowers for the house. We must have everywhere looking cheerful for our guest. Of course, Verity’s house is much grander than our modest abode, but we strive to keep up standards,’ Mrs Acland said with a smile.
Rowan stared around the elegant room with its ornate furnishings and beautifully carved grandfather clock. This was modest?
‘But before you do that, I insist on seeing your dress,’ Mrs Acland continued.
‘I do hope I’ve done the material justice,’ Rowan said, looking anxiously at the kind woman sitting opposite.
‘Well, when you’ve quite finished your breakfast, go and put it on and we’ll see, won’t we?’ Mrs Acland’s blue eyes twinkled.
Back in her room, Rowan carefully climbed into the emerald dress, slipped the bows onto the slippers and draped the stole around her shoulders. Then, after a quick look in the mirror, she descended the stairs.
‘Oh my,’ Mrs Acland said, her eyes wi
dening with shock.
‘Don’t you like it?’ Rowan asked anxiously. ‘Have I made a mess of the material?’
The woman shook her head. ‘You look quite exquisite, my dear. Like a bird of paradise. That emerald silk brings out the colour of your eyes to perfection and sets off your copper curls magnificently. Why, I’m quite envious of how gorgeous you look,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Now come closer and let me see how you’ve worked this magic,’ she ordered. ‘Hmm. Now twirl around.’
Rowan did as she’d been asked. There was a long silence.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked timidly. Again, Mrs Acland shook her head and Rowan felt her stomach sink.
‘Don’t look so worried, my dear. That dress becomes you; in fact, it’s a work of art. The cut is tailored to perfection and as for those stitches … Wherever did you learn to sew like that?’
‘My mother taught me,’ Rowan whispered. ‘She made me practise until my stitching met with her approval.’
Mrs Acland smiled. ‘In that case, she was an admirable teacher. As for the evening stole and bows to the slippers … ! You have created an absolutely stunning outfit. I just hope dear Verity can compete,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘She’s quite possessive of Alexander and can’t abide competition. Anyway, that’s enough idle chatter. Go and change back into your day dress and create some wonderful floral arrangements for me, will you?’
Relieved her outfit had met with the woman’s approval, Rowan did as she’d been asked and then took herself out to the garden. It was a beautiful spring morning and she hummed happily as she gathered armfuls of flowers, breathing in their sweet fragrance. The sun was blazing from a clear blue sky and she noticed the tribute she’d made for Susan wilting under its heat. Picking some golden jonquils with their heady scent, she carefully shaped them into another circle, then laid them in the shade of the cherry tree. ‘Sleep sweetly, Susan and baby,’ she whispered. Then gathering up her collection of spring flowers, she turned back towards the house.