What man would marry a woman who dreamed of other people’s death? Then there was the matter of my station in life. Though not the immediate heir to an earldom, if Sean did marry, he would need to marry a woman far above me, a woman with a dowry worthy of the Killdaren’s wealth.
There were some proprieties in society that were unchangeable, and status was one that few ever broke free from. Besides position, there was Sean’s belief in the curse itself. Though I gave little countenance to it, for I truly thought curses in the same realm as vampires and fairies, I knew Sean didn’t take the curse as lightly.
He believed, and as long as he did, it would stand in his way of ever having a future.
Even so, all of me wanted to experience those things with Sean Killdaren that were utterly improper for an unmarried woman to think about, much less want with every beat of her heart. He was like a dark prince from a strange world that I couldn’t resist, and didn’t want to either.
I woke early, my eyes scratchy from the lack of sleep. My body protested, wanting more rest, but I knew that if I didn’t at least try and read one of Mary’s letters this morning before Bridget woke, I wouldn’t be able to until late that night. Even then, so much of me hoped there would be another invitation for stargazing in my pillow case.
Pulling out the box, I found Mary’s letters weren’t organized at all. It would have taken too long to put them in chronological order this morning, so I closed my eyes and pulled one out. Opening it, I first noted the date. Almost seven months ago. January of this year.
Dear Mother,
As much as I long for your company, and the comfort of your smile, I know that my decision to come to Rebecca a right one. She’s a bright child that I hope one day will gain the confidence to live beyond the walls of her room. I’ve hesitated to write of the others here at the castle except to give you brief captions of them, but even more so than Rebecca, those that live here live in a world of darkness.
The light of life that so filled my childhood doesn’t shine into this corner of the world. I hope that I can change that. Sometimes I wish I could bring all of my family here and let them fill the rooms with their zest.
I’m painting the sea in my spare time, capturing moments of golden light and crashing waves for a special friend who hasn’t been able to see sunlight for a very long time.
I thought I had a good idea who the friend she spoke of was. Sean. What I didn’t know was why he couldn’t see the light, for I knew he could see, and how special did special mean?
The rest of the letter spoke of family matters, inquiring about my mother and father, and me and my sisters. That Mary had asked about me, at a time I’d been so involved in answering the letters of strangers for my column, stung my heart and brought tears to my eyes. I’d let something precious slip through my fingers because I’d been too caught up in the proper and practical. I’d never be able to go back and recapture that moment, when I could have written to Mary, could have discovered what joys and worries filled her life. Folding the letter, I returned it to the box, and slid it back safely beneath my cot.
Reading Mary’s letters was going to be harder than I ever imagined it would be. I determined that, somehow, I would bring about all those things that Mary had hoped for.
“Did you like the happy tune, poppet?” I asked, stretching my fingers against the ivory keys.
Rebecca shifted on the piano bench next to me, nodding her head, her rag doll clasped tightly in her arms. It was the first time she’d joined me on the bench. “More, p-p-please, Miss C-c-cass.”
“Certainly. I’ve a rhyming song that my sisters and I used to play all the time when we were little. I want you to sing it with me.”
She shook her head, hunching her shoulders and wrenching my heart at how little she believed she could do. “After you learn the words, I’ll teach you the game. It’s very easy and I daresay one that you could win better than anyone else in the castle.”
Scrunching her brow in doubt, she sat silent for so long a moment that I feared she would back away from the progress we’d made. Finally, she whispered, as if she didn’t want anyone but me to hear. Odd, for we were alone in the music room, a place that I still was unable to relax in. “I c-c-could w-w-win?”
“Yes,” I whispered back. “In the game, whoever reaches the ground first wins, and since you’re the littlest person around, you can do that better than anyone else. This used to be my sister Gemini’s favorite game to play, since she was the youngest of us all.”
“Can I m-meet your s-s-sisters?”
“I hope someday, poppet.” My heart squeezed painfully. How could I leave those at Killdaren’s Castle and never come back? “I truly hope that someday you can. And then you can play this game and even have a real tea party.
“This is how it goes: Ring around the rosie, A pocket full of posies. Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down.” I played the lively tune, which in my mind had little to do with the death it sang of and more to do with fun, though I doubted the children of London thought that when the black death had raged. “Now sing the first word with me—Ring.”
“R-r-ring,” Rebecca parroted.
“Ring around,” I sang.
“R-r-ring around.”
I nearly stopped playing the tune as I absorbed the fact that Rebecca hadn’t stuttered on her second word. “Ring around the rosie.” I watched her carefully.
“R-r-ring around the rosie.”
Tears bit my eyes. I was sure Rebecca herself didn’t realize that she hadn’t stuttered. “You sing beautifully.”
Rebecca shook her head.
I stopped playing and put my arm around her. “You do. You sing like the littlest angel in the world.”
“M-m-mary,” Rebecca suddenly cried out, shocking me. My heart skipped a beat then thundered. She flung herself from my arms and cried out again. “M-m-mary!”
I reached for her, catching hold of her hand. “Rebecca, stop. It’s all right poppet. Don’t be afraid.”
She shook her head, trying to pull away from me as she clutched her doll so tightly I thought she’d break her fingers. I wouldn’t let her go. I didn’t want her to hurt herself and whatever was causing her this deep pain, I didn’t want her to be alone in it.
Her breaths came in sharp gasps and she trembled horribly.
I sat on the ground, pulling her into my lap, and wrapped my arms tightly around her and her rag doll. She struggled, screaming for Mary over and over. I wondered if I were doing the right thing and decided to hold her closer, tighter, and to sing softly. A lullaby my mother had used to comfort me when I had dreamed of my grandmother’s death came to mind and I sang softly.
I was about to give up when Rebecca stopped thrashing and pressed herself to me. Crying tears, but no longer screaming.
“You’ve wrought a miracle.”
The soft whisper came from behind me, toward the back of the stage.
Turning slightly, I found Prudence there, her hands fisted, worry and pain etched deeply upon her face. How did she get there?
“I didn’t see you come in.”
“I’ve been here since I heard her cry out. There are stairs backstage that lead up to my and Rebecca’s wing.”
I wanted to gasp, wondering why someone hadn’t seen fit to tell me that, but then bit my tongue. Exactly who was I? A mere maid, and unless there was a particular reason I would need to know about the staircase in order to perform my duties, no one would ever mention it to me. Learning of the staircase would go a long way toward explaining how Rebecca had appeared that first day when Bridget and I were cleaning the music room. I wondered if it might not also explain how Rebecca was getting past her nurse to wander alone.
“May I hold her now?” Prudence asked, surprising me with her polite and gentle tone.
I started to rise. “Of course.”
“Stay there,” Prudence knelt beside me, kissed Rebecca’s head. I saw tears fill the mother’s eyes, seeing her daughter so wrenched her painfully. “I
t’s Mum, precious. Can you hear me?”
Hiccupping, Rebecca nodded.
Prudence held out her arms. “There now, come to Mum, and I’ll make it all right.”
Rebecca plunged herself into her mother’s arms. Prudence pulled her tightly against her bosom and kissed the child’s head again. “She’s never quieted this quickly before. It’s always taken at least a day and the sleeping medicine the doctor prescribed for her to calm her down.”
Prudence rocked Rebecca a few minutes, humming off-tune to her. “I heard you sing, dumpling. The lady is right, you sing beautifully.”
We both looked down at Rebecca, only to find she’d fallen asleep, having likely exhausted herself.
“Can I help you get her to her room?” I whispered.
“Yes, thank you. If you’ll help me rise, I can carry her up.”
When Prudence was upright and Rebecca safely tucked into her mother’s arms, she turned to me. “Please, will you come see me? Have tea in my room? I’d like to speak to you about Rebecca.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’ll send for you this afternoon.” Then she smiled softly, “It will most likely put Mrs. Frye into a complete dither.”
I grinned. “Imagine that.”
Though in any ordinary household, the housekeeper would in no way ever deny the request of a person in a higher position than herself, when it came to Mrs. Frye, I had no assurance she wouldn’t find a way to stop me from going to tea. My back ached and my mind spun. The center hall of Killdaren’s Castle, though not as vast as the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, was just as daunting to clean. I polished the marble floor like a whirlwind, determined to finish it before teatime. Bridget had joined me in the almost impossible task. She’d never failed to help me ever since I arrived at Killdaren’s Castle, and it made my heart squeeze. Even though she’d not get tea herself, Bridget worked harder than I to remove any excuse Mrs. Frye might have to keep me from meeting with Rebecca’s mother. As we cleaned, I swore that someday soon I’d make sure Bridget had tea every day.
Meanwhile, I puzzled over Rebecca’s situation. Prudence was so loving to Rebecca that I couldn’t reconcile her keeping the nurse to care for Rebecca. Nor could I understand why Rebecca, even though blind, was so frightened.
Bridget and I were just finishing the floor when Mrs. Frye appeared.
Knees currently numb, I stood, pressing my hand to my aching back and surveying the perfection of the floor.
“Humph. Miss Prudence has requested that you come to her.” Mrs. Frye eyed me as if I’d stolen the silverware.
“Then it appears I’ve finished just in time.”
“You’re to go to her quarters.”
I started untying the apron I’d soiled.
“Don’t think you’re done for the day,” Mrs. Frye harped in. “There are more chores that need doing and you missed a spot by the banister.”
“I’ll take care of that, Mrs. Frye,” Bridget said.
“No. I’ve other chores for you. She can finish it after seeing Miss Prudence. I don’t think she’ll be but a minute.”
I opened my mouth to protest. Bridget and I had done everything we were supposed to have done for the day. Bridget caught my eye and sent me a silent warning not to argue. I bit my lip, feeling outraged and frustrated.
I moved toward the stairs that would take me to the second floor. “Then if you will excuse me, I won’t be long.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Frye shouted.
Turning, I blinked at her with surprise.
“The backstairs, missy. I warned you that I’d not tolerate you putting on any airs, and you’ve done nothing but that since you came here. Be careful or you’ll not have a job.”
Anger burned the back of my throat, partly because of Mrs. Frye’s inflexible harshness, and partly because I’d given her the opportunity to reprimand me.
Servants used the servants’ stairs even if it wasn’t convenient, even if it cost them twice as much labor. I would have expounded on the propriety of that at length in “Cassiopeia’s Corner”, advising that all rules had to be followed to preserve order. As I hurried to the backstairs in the kitchen, I determined that if I ever were in charge of such a vast holding as a castle, I’d toss propriety on its ear and set rules that made sense.
“Come in,” Prudence called out after my knock.
From the richly elaborate dresses Prudence and Rebecca wore, I expected to see such ostentation in their surroundings. I didn’t. Their living quarters on the second floor were highly simple compared the rest of the castle and the fashionable decors of the day. Like the pastel hues of the room Mary used across the hallway, this room carried a theme of soft blues. Elegant and peaceful were the words that came to my mind.
Prudence motioned me to a chair across from her then sat herself.
“Thank you for inviting me.” The numbness in my knees had turned into a throb and I thankfully sank into the heavenly cushions of a buttoned wing chair.
On a marble topped table between us an elaborate array of goodies was set, and the mouth-watering scent of brewed tea and fresh scones filled the air. Prudence asked about my day, then after pouring us both a cup and handing me a plate piled with almond-speckled scones, she went directly to the heart of the matter. “I’ve appreciated the time you’ve taken with Rebecca. I think it is helping her.”
“I have grown to care a great deal for Rebecca, and I have some concerns about her situation here.”
Prudence set her teacup down, her cheeks flushing. “I have little care for what the villagers or anyone else thinks about my presence in the Killdarens’ lives. All I care about is that Rebecca has the best of everything, and all the mean gossip and judgmental busybodies in the world aren’t going to change that.”
I choked on my scone. “Good heavens, you completely misunderstood me, Miss Prudence. I meant Rebecca’s crying today, and uh, if I may say so, the harshness of her nurse.”
Prudence drew a deep breath then picked up her teacup. “My apologies. I had a horrifying experience with the villagers and I am overly sensitive to criticism in regards to my living here.”
“I am so sorry to hear of it. Not to pry where I shouldn’t, but what happened in the village?”
“If the Killdaren hadn’t saved me, I think they would have burned me alive or stoned me to death.”
I set my teacup down with a rattle this time. “You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The world does not take kindly to unmarried women being with child.”
“So, Mr. Killdaren stopped the villagers from harming you?”
“He and Stuart stood against a mob of raging villagers. They rode up on horses with pistols cocked and the Killdaren told the villagers he’d killed before and would have no qualms killing again. The first man or woman who harmed me was dead. They all ran.”
I wanted to say a word or a phrase that would lead her into telling me if Sean was Rebecca’s father, but I couldn’t force the words from my lips. Deep inside of me hid the irrational notion that if I didn’t know for a fact that Sean had fathered Rebecca, then I could blame it on his brother, Viscount Blackmoor.
“How long has Rebecca had difficulty with her speech?” I said, picking up my teacup and abruptly changing the subject before my habit of seeking out the truth at all costs could exercise itself.
“Just recently. She went through the traumatic experience of having someone she deeply cared for die. I think you playing music for her has helped her grief.”
For a moment I wondered if the china I held would snap. “Mary? The person she cries for?”
“Yes.” Prudence’s eyes widened with surprise.
“I’d guess as much from what I’ve heard others say. What happened?”
“She drowned while on a picnic with my daughter. Exactly what happened, no one knows for sure, but it must have been awful. Rebecca hasn’t been able to speak of it. She only cries inconsolably whenever somethi
ng reminds her of it. Mary used to call Rebecca a little angel. I think you said that to her when you spoke of her singing.”
“Yes.” I was incapable of saying anything more at that moment.
“When Rebecca sang today, I noticed she didn’t stutter as much.”
“I noticed, too.”
“An amazing surprise, and one that gives me hope she will recover from what happened.”
“Yes.” I had to force myself to breathe. “I think the music distracts her mind from the fear that has her in its grip.”
“I would like for you to play for her every day and encourage her to sing, if you would. Perhaps this will help Rebecca recover faster.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I deeply wanted Rebecca to heal, and a part of me couldn’t help but wonder that if Rebecca overcame her fear, she might be able to tell me what happened to Mary.
“Good. I’ll speak to Mrs. Frye about the matter. Now what do you have to say about Rebecca’s nurse?”
“I feel that Rebecca’s nurse is unnecessarily harsh, and at times speaks to Rebecca in what I would consider to be a less than nurturing manner. You obviously love your daughter greatly, and I wondered if you were aware of the situation.”
Prudence sat forward, nearly at the edge of her seat, a frown cut deep into the perfection of her features. “I am aware that the nurse can be stern on occasion, but I’ve never witnessed her treating my daughter harshly. Do you speak of a specific incident?”
“Well, yes. A few weeks ago, when Rebecca heard me playing the piano, she must have slipped down the stairs to the theater without her nurse knowing. Bridget and I brought Rebecca back to Nurse Tolley and the woman screamed at Rebecca, frightening her.”
“I shall have a word with her then. I haven’t spoken to Nurse Tolley about her rigid demeanor because the nuns at the convent school who educated me were by far much harder task masters.”
Midnight Secrets Page 21