One Perfect Flower

Home > Other > One Perfect Flower > Page 22
One Perfect Flower Page 22

by Roberta C. D. DeCaprio


  She looped a hand through his arm and leaned into him as they made their way to the large double doors.

  He helped her to a chair and went to the rail, looking out into the darkness. The night was brisk and still, except for the muffled sounds of music playing inside.

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Aye, a wee bit. The night air has helped to clear my head.”

  “Good,” he said, turning around to face her. Only a lantern lit the terrace, casting their shadows upon the outer wall. “Perhaps now your head has been cleared, you might explain your behavior toward my wife.”

  “Why, Braiton,” she gasped with wide-eyed innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean, lass,” he snapped. “You’ve done nothing but try to humiliate her since we’ve arrived at Glenview.”

  “Nay, ’tis not so, Braiton.”

  “Spare me the blarney, women. I’m not daft, nor am I your father, who believes everything you tell him.” He frowned. “What in God’s name has she ever done to you, Joleena?”

  Joleena sprang from her chair and threw her arms around his neck. “She’s married you, taken you from me,” she sobbed.

  He untangled her hands from around his neck and stepped back. “Have you gone mad, lass? There’s never been anything between us other than friendship.”

  She reached for his hands. “Come now, Braiton, certainly you can’t deny the fact I’d be more of a suitable wife for you.”

  He pulled free from her grasp. “I can and do.”

  “You should be thanking me for what I did today.”

  His eyes burned with his mounting rage. “And what was that, Joleena?”

  She examined her fingernails in a snobbish fashion. “I was helping you see the ignorant twit for what she is.”

  He arched a brow. “Then I’m to thank you for your efforts?”

  “Don’t you see how bored you will grow with her simple ways?”

  “Unlike your sophisticated ones, isn’t that correct?” he grounded out with sarcasm.

  She looked deep into his eyes, stroked the side of his face. “I know the proper way to be a lord’s wife.”

  He grabbed her hand, holding it aside. “There is nothing proper about you, Joleena.”

  “Think about it Braiton,” she hurried on, getting free from his grasp and snuggling closer to him. “I’d be such an asset to you in so many ways; running Shannonbrook, helping in your business. Far better a partner than that half-breed.”

  “Well, well, how cozy. I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Rory remarked.

  Braiton turned around to find Rory and Raven in the doorway. He set his jaw in anger.

  “Nay, we’re quite finished.”

  Rory turned to Raven. “I told you he slipped away with my sister.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Here’s the proof of his debauchery.”

  Braiton ground the words out through grit teeth. “The only debauchery is the sinister little game you two are playing.” He glanced over at his wife, her face flushed. “’Tis quite clear, my lady, I’ve been set up to look as though I’ve deceived you.”

  Rory smirked. “Ah, a man concerned for his wife’s feelings and anxious to make her understand. I’m touched beyond words.”

  Joleena’s mouth curled with anger. “Nay, ’tis his humiliation for her stupidity you see, not his concern.”

  Raven licked her lips and cleared her throat. “These two have tried to shame us both on this visit.”

  Rory’s tone hardened. “You believe him, my lady… just like that,” he snapped his fingers.

  Raven glared at Rory. “My husband has no reason to lie about being with another women.” She turned her sapphire gaze to lock with Braiton’s, the meaning of her words strangled his heart. “Do you, Braiton.”

  “Nay, lass,” he whispered.

  Rory chuckled sarcastically. “Is there not a first time for everything?”

  Braiton said ominously, “I can bet ’twon’t be the first time an irate husband thrashed the stuffing out of you.”

  Rory raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not the one caught in a compromising position.”

  “Braiton, please leave and take Rory with you,” Raven said, making her way to Joleena. “This is between us women.”

  “Aye, my lady, ’tis a bit of man-to-man business I must deal with as well,” he said, grabbing Rory by the collar and dragging him to the veranda doors.

  “Nay, don’t leave me alone with her,” Joleena pleaded.

  “Fear not, little sister,” Rory quipped over his shoulder. “I’ve heard Indians never attack at night.”

  Raven watched the play of rage and fear cross over Joleena’s features. She stood, raising her hand to strike.

  Raven broke the slap with a quick chop to Joleena’s arm. “I will not allow you to strike me, as you have Sinead.”

  The other woman shrieked and stepped back. “You deserve to be horse whipped.”

  She placed hands on hips, feet apart. “I dare you to try.”

  Joleena’s eyes went wild. With hands raised and fingers set like claws, she went for her face. Raven stepped aside just in time, and Joleena fell into a veranda chair, landing hard on the stone terrace floor.

  Layers of clothing hampered her from rising. “You little fool,” she spat. “Did you really believe you could fit into Braiton’s way of life?”

  She raised a defiant chin. “Ah, but the truth is, I have fit in, Joleena.”

  The other woman moved closer.

  Raven crouched like an animal ready to attack its prey. “I would think twice before you make your next move. You are no match for the things I know.”

  Joleena’s jaw set, yellow eyes gleaming in the night.

  She circled, watching, waiting for Joleena’s next move.

  Joleena shivered and hedged her way toward the double doors leading into the mansion. “This is by no means over,” she choked out and hurried from the veranda.

  Her heart raced. Gripping the rail, she inhaled the crisp night air. She knew now for certain Joleena wanted Braiton for herself. She just might get her chance.

  After a year’s time she would be leaving Ireland and her marriage to Braiton. That was the arrangement she agreed to aboard the ship. He reminded her often their marriage could be nothing more than one of convenience. She was sure it would be easy for Joleena to replace her, once she was gone. And although she trusted Braiton did not compromise his marriage vows tonight with Joleena, she did not believe it was out of loyalty to her. He was a man who had to uphold his reputation, being deemed a cheating husband was not a good way to do that.

  Raven’s back was to Braiton when he stepped onto the veranda. “Are you all right, my lady?”

  She didn’t turn around, but kept her eyes ahead. “I am fine, and you?”

  He came to stand beside her. “Aye, as well as can be expected after having it out with a man you thought to be a friend.”

  “I think you should have a long talk with Evangeline. She has told me some things about the O’Neill siblings you need to hear.” She turned to look at him. “She is not the drunken woman they make her out to be. And if there were some way Sinead could come to Shannonbrook, I would hope for that as well. It is a disgrace how Joleena degrades the poor girl.” She sighed and raised her gaze to the night sky.

  “I am sorry, Braiton.”

  He placed his hand over hers. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Joleena got what she deserved.”

  “My mother once had her troubles with an Indian maiden named Running Doe. She was a trickster, like Joleena. She believed if she shamed my mother in front of the tribe, she would then have a chance with my father.”

  He admired the side view of her face, the moon casting a glow to the black shiny curls atop her head.

  “What did your mother do?”

  “She fought Running Doe for her rightful place as my father’s wife and won.”

  “You’re trul
y your mother’s daughter, then, for you’ve done the same.”

  “It is far from the same. In fact, there is a very big difference between us.”

  “And what would that difference be, lass?”

  She turned to face him, tears glistening in her eyes, and swallowed hard. Her voice tinged with a sob. “My mother’s husband loves her.” She gathered her skirt and ran from the veranda.

  Braiton stood alone, the stillness of the night surrounding him. “So does yours,” he whispered, swallowing hard the lump in his own throat.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was good to be back at Shannonbrook. Raven missed everyone there, especially Brawn. He greeted her with a wagging tail, wetting her face with his slobbering tongue.

  “I missed you too, boy,” she said, scratching him behind the ear. “It is good to be home.”

  Home. The word naturally slipped from her mouth. Perhaps it was because she finally considered Shannonbrook to be her home. She enjoyed each and every room, the garden, and stables, as well as all those who resided there with her.

  Braiton, true to his word, bought her the most beautiful violin. Though she knew little about musical instruments, the violin he presented her with was of quality wood grain, and a most magnificent sound issued forth when played. The private concerts she gave him pleased them both, as well as the time they shared. They rode, dined, and laughed together. Many evenings she would read aloud to him, and time passed in a pleasant manner.

  One night, about a month after her return from their visit to Glenview, she came downstairs to the library for a book. She spotted the light in Braiton’s study and decided she would stop in to bid him goodnight. His head was bent over his ledgers, but upon hearing her enter the room, he looked up from his work. His face was troubled, strained. His eyes weary. Her heart went out to him.

  He glanced at the mantle clock. “You’re up rather late, aren’t you lass?”

  She stood before the desk, looking down at him. “I could say the same for you.” Gazing at the pile of papers on his desk, she frowned. “You work too hard, and too long, my shikaa.”

  He ran his hand over his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “Very well, I will,” she said, making herself comfortable on a chair beside the desk.

  He arched a brow. “And what might that be?”

  “I have an idea I need your help with.”

  He sat back in his chair. “Go on.”

  “While we were at Glenview, Shamus O’Neill and I conversed one night about the tenants and their lack of education.”

  He nodded. “’Tis the sad truth. They cannot afford private tutors and the nearest schoolhouse is in the next county. Not that the children would be able to attend if there were one closer,” he added.

  “Because they are needed to help with the chores?” she questioned.

  “Aye, especially the boys during the planting and harvest time.”

  She nodded. “It is much the same situation children in my country face, but what if they could attend school when they were not planting and reaping?”

  He frowned. “And who would teach them?”

  “I would. I can read, write, cipher, teach scripture, and even the violin. In this way they will have better skills to obtain better jobs and a better life.”

  He smiled. “You have all this figured out quite well on your own, why do you need my help?”

  She leaned forward in her seat. “I need a place to teach them.” She gestured around the room. “I could teach them at Shannonbrook, in the great room, but I do not think Anna would appreciate it much.”

  He chuckled. “Nay, I don’t think she’d like the idea at all.”

  “That is where I need your help, in finding a place to hold school.”

  He stroked his chin. “I think I may have the perfect place.” His eyes twinkled with his smile. “The large stone building at the edge of the estate, which once served as a warehouse for the family business, has more then enough room for tables and chairs. There’s a wood burning stove in the center which will supply ample heat in the cold months, and ’tis in walking distance from every tenant’s cottage.”

  She stood excited. “Oh, Braiton, it does sound perfect.” She ran around to his side of the desk and kissed his cheek. “I cannot wait to get started, but now I have so much to do.”

  He laughed. “Do you plan on doing this all by yourself?”

  She frowned. “I suppose I will need some help.”

  “There is no doubt about it, lass. That old building hasn’t been used in decades. It will need to be emptied of what’s currently stored there, the chimney cleaned, and the roof mended. Not to mention furnishing it with all you’ll need to make it a proper school, like tables, chairs, a chalk board, and chalk. And those are just the major items.”

  Her frown deepened. “Will you help me, Braiton?”

  He stood, pushing aside a wisp of hair clinging to her cheek. “Aye, my lady, I will.”

  She hugged him around the waist, resting her head against his muscular chest. “You are so good. The children will owe you so much.”

  He stroked her hair. “Nay, Raven, they will owe you.”

  She raised her gaze to meet his. “But I could not have done any of this without you.”

  He searched her face. Her pulse raced. She anticipated his full warm lips consuming hers. But instead, he brushed a gentle kiss upon her forehead.

  “Off to bed with you now, lass. A good night’s rest is what you’ll need, with such an undertaking ahead of you.”

  She glanced down at the pile of papers on the desk. “What of your own rest, my shikaa?”

  He sighed. “I have yet more to finish here.”

  “Will you at least promise me you will not work too much longer,” she said.

  He nodded. “I promise.”

  Once in her bedchamber sleep eluded her and instead thoughts of the weeks ahead and all the work needing to be done raced around in her mind. She smiled to herself and snuggled beneath the quilt. How wonderful it will be for the children to have an education. She could not wait to begin.

  Only a few days after their conversation in the library, Braiton called a meeting of all his tenants and explained her idea. They were all pleased and excited the children would be given such an opportunity. Many of the men offered their services in getting the stone building ready. The women sewed curtains for the windows and wove rugs for the floor.

  One young woman in particular, by the name of Kathleen Grady, turned out to be a godsend. She was Raven’s age, and the wife of Braiton’s foreman, Kevin Grady. Because Kathleen’s mother was a clergyman’s daughter and well educated in her own right, Kathleen learned to read, write, cipher, play the piano, and speak French. Her grandfather’s calling made Kathleen somewhat of an expert at translating scripture, and her eagerness to help was evident in leaps and bounds. The two also had much in common, each having an older brother and younger sister, a love for riding, hunting, and story telling. Upon structuring lessons and preparing the school for the children, the women grew to be good friends. Many days, after school was dismissed, they stayed on to laugh and talk, sharing childhood memories.

  ****

  Braiton smiled when he thought of his young wife, which lately was many times within a day. She turned his household into utter chaos, but everyone loved and enjoyed having her around. Polite and respectful to the servants, she never demanded a thing, and could often be found working side by side with them to keep Shannonbrook clean and running efficiently. Teaching the tenant’s children was not her only responsibility. Two days a week she took it upon herself to ride to each tenant’s cottage, bringing them homemade bread and cakes she baked herself that morning. Staying to have tea with the women, she’d tell the children Apache folklore. She even helped to birth a baby or two.

  He treasured the time they had alone, when she’d wear her hair down, curls falling to her waist, and void of undergarments. His favorite time of the d
ay, and one he’d grown to appreciate the most, was sipping coffee after dinner in the drawing room. She’d sit on a mat in front of the fire, cross-legged, skirt raised high on her naked thighs and read aloud to him.

  “Raven,” he said, interrupting her one evening. She turned her sapphire eyes to meet his. “If I had a shilling for every time your skirt rose above your knees, I’d be very rich indeed.”

  She smiled. “And I as well, for every time you gazed.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, admiring her spirit. Her presence sparked a thrill through him. His eyes secretly seduced her, his heart yearned for her, his body desired hers, yet he dared not love her.

  ****

  Raven dragged herself from the comforts of her bed. Each morning it took such an effort to start the day.

  “Perhaps you need an elixir, m’lady, one to give you more pep and vigor?” Molly suggested, while fastening the stays of her bodice. “Doctor Murphy is expected in a few days to see Lord Shannon, maybe ’twould be wise for him to be lookin’ in on you as well?”

  She nodded. “I suppose it would not hurt.”

  “Nay, m’lady, ’twouldn’t hurt at that. I’ll tell Lord Shannon you’ll be wishin’ a time with the good doctor when he arrives.”

  “No, Molly, say nothing to my husband,” she said.

  Molly frowned. “But why, m’lady?”

  “There is no need to give him cause for concern over my health, when I am sure I am just a little tired from all the work I have been doing.” She sighed. “He has enough on his mind right now. I will not trouble him with more. When Doctor Murphy arrives, just send him to me first.”

  Molly nodded in agreement. “As you wish, m’lady.”

  The day Terrance Murphy came to call, Molly kept her word and brought him first to her bedchamber.

  He neared the bed where she rested, concern filling his round face. “Molly said you’ve been a wee bit under the weather, m’lady.”

  “I am just tired, Terrance.” She forced a smile and shifted into a sitting position. “There has been a lot going on here at Shannonbrook.”

  He returned her smile, placing his black bag at the foot of the bed. “Aye, I’ve heard you and Kathleen Grady are teaching the children, got a schoolhouse to boot.”

 

‹ Prev