“Dahlia, your music was a reason – one of many – that brought us together, but it is not the reason we will stay together and be happy. Look at me – I have no talent and you fell in love with me. What is it about me that drew your attention so that I know what to fear losing if it means you will stop loving me?”
She looked up at him then, those big, green eyes studying him as she considered this. He felt he had her there. Success! He watched as she could not find an answer. Finally, she laughed lightly. “You are right. There is not a single thing on which I can base my feelings and attraction to you. It is many things put together.”
“And if I were to lose any one of those things, would the fabric of your affections unravel completely?”
“No.” She laughed again. “It would just be a bit frayed around the edges, perhaps.”
“Our favorite clothes are the ones that are worn – a bit frayed – because the fabric is softer and more comfortable. Old boots are hard to give up because the leather has molded to our form and the fit is perfect. I think you would not toss me aside like an old shoe,” he finished his argument with a smile.
“No,” she admitted.
“Good,” he said definitively. “No more talk of this. You are stuck with me ‘for better or worse,’ remember?” He gently took her hands and brought them to his lips before getting up and making up the couch.
Dahlia smiled at his sincerity. The problem was, of course, she didn’t remember making that vow. She had had every intention of telling him he could sleep on the bed. It was an enormous marriage bed and certainly he would not disturb her on the other side. She quite lost her confidence, however, and said nothing.
Chapter 67
Dahlia slept fitfully. She had forgotten to take her medicine after her discussion with James, but that was only a small part of her sleeplessness. She felt lost for the first time in her life. She was suddenly away from her father and home, in a strange castle in a strange country. She had a new role as a wife that she had no memory of assuming and no idea how to play. She had no Lady Sweet to talk to, and she had no music to comfort her. Instead of composing the rhythm of her life, she was caught off balance by it.
She awoke alone in the room, surprised as she still was every morning that she was not in her room in Cirencester. The various pains from the accident were an immediate reminder that the accident was real, that her situation was real. She remembered her conversation with James, though. He had been sincere, and attentive to her as a new groom should be. He was not responsible for her falling from Talisman and losing her memory and music. She had married the only man who had ever captured her affection and she had agreed to come to Scotland. They had planned that together – apparently. She had Matty with her, who seemed to be finding life at the castle – and its neighbors – agreeable, and she liked her new mother-in-law. In truth, could not find any fault with her ‘real’ situation. No doubt she would feel more sure of herself when she was better and could start to integrate herself into life at the castle. Being sequestered in her room, partly due to her own vanity at not wanting people to see the horrible bruises on her face, was to blame for this sense of seclusion and imbalance. She was not used to being so disconnected with her surroundings. At present, she was watching life from the periphery when she was accustomed to being at the center of it.
Dahlia was determined to change that. No doubt she would start to feel better if she started to move around a bit more. She needed to get up and out of the bed. She tried to push herself up, but this brought pain to one of her wrists that would not support the pressure. She tried to use her stomach muscles, but the tension on her ribs brought tears to her eyes. She tried to use her legs, only to find pain shooting up from one of her ankles. Between the laudanum and her focus on the loss of music in her mind, she had not truly had an appreciation for the extent of her physical injuries from the fall. She took a corporeal census and found herself quite grateful she hadn’t been killed by the accident. She had pains and soreness in every limb and places in-between as well. She had barely done more than wiggle what she could and she was tired, panting from the effort and pain.
Matty came in with the breakfast tray and saw the bed linens disheveled and rumpled. “What have you been doing?” She put the tray on the desk and hurried over to Dahlia.
“Taking stock of my body. It really was a very bad accident, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. You gave us all quite a fright.” Matty smoothed out the linens and pulled Dahlia gently forward, putting pillows behind her so she was in a sitting position. Dahlia let out a breath of relief, and Matty gave her a stern look. “Next time, take my word for it instead of working yourself – and the bed – into a frenzy.”
“Yes, I’ll do that,” Dahlia said smiling. “It’s just I’m getting anxious to do something other than lay in this bed.”
Matty smiled broadly. “Knowing you, you will push yourself too fast at every step of your recovery. So today, James is bringing you a surprise to keep you entertained while you’re still abed.”
“What surprise?”
“Ah, the question that never gets an honest answer – for obvious reasons.” She brought the breakfast tray and placed it on Dahlia’s lap. “The sooner you eat, the sooner we can get you ready, and the sooner he can bring it to you.” For once, Dahlia didn’t argue. Instead, she smiled and took a sip of tea. Leave it to James to give her something to look forward to – as he always had.
The morning passed by too slowly. Matty gave her a hand bath, and washed and dressed her hair, taking care to dry the roots well before braiding the remainder. “We don’t need you getting sick on top of everything else!”
Finally, she was ready. Matty could barely hide her own excitement, knowing as she did what the surprise was. She left an equally excited Dahlia to go down to get James. When she returned, she poked her head around the door. “Close your eyes!”
Dahlia complied, hearing boot steps cross the room. She felt James sit on the bed, then a pressure on her lap. “Open your eyes,” James said. Slowly, she opened them to find a large basket in front of her. She looked at James, who was smiling back at her. “Go on, open it.”
She unlatched the top, and it popped open of its own accord. A furry tan and black face appeared.
“Rory!” she cried, delighted. The puppy barked and howled his contentment at finding his owner again, and he covered her face and hands with kisses. The basket soon became too confining for his excitement and he jumped onto the bed and started hopping around in circles. “Oh, Rory, I’m so glad to see you!”
“Of course we couldn’t leave your birthday present behind!” explained James. “I was afraid that he would jump on you and hurt you, so I’ve had my brothers and sisters watch him. But I think you are feeling well enough now to take care of him again.”
The little dog was indeed so exuberant that his paws caused jolts of pain wherever they landed on her, but Dahlia barely noticed. She was too happy. “Oh James, thank you!”
Rory finally curled up beside her, his head on her leg. Matty brought up another basket, this time full of lunch for the three of them. They reminisced about the Roma, and Dahlia’s father and brothers and the times they had shared together. Talk then turned to James’ brothers and sisters, and the other inhabitants and goings on at the castle. Dahlia asked James about the work he was planning for the castle’s improvements, and he talked animatedly about the possibilities to restore the castle to its former glory.
“Mind you, all this will take years! MacTavish has agreed to help during the winter. He usually doesn’t travel because of the weather until at least March.”
Dahlia gave a sidelong glance at Matty.
“We’ll start with the structural problems and other improvements to the main house. Once we can get outside, we’ll work on the rest.”
Dahlia glanced around the room. The desk was still pristine. “Where are all the plans?”
James followed her gaze to the desk. “I’ve set up an office downst
airs.”
“You’re welcome to work up here,” Dahlia suggested.
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw the state of the office,” smiled James. “It’s a bit of a mess. Papers everywhere – plans, drawings, lists. Besides, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I think some disturbance would be welcome,” Matty put in. “This morning I found Miss Dahlia trying to sit up on her own. Before you know it, she will be jumping out of bed.”
“Oh?” James looked slightly worried. “You’ve been a bed for weeks, Dahlia. You need to take care and not attempt too much too soon. At least let Matty and I help you.”
“What she’s not telling you is that I tried and failed miserably. My mind had greater aspirations than my body could deliver.”
“Not to worry. First, we’ll give your mind some distractions. Books, sketching, games – we shall bring you plenty of materials to occupy your mind. Do you needlepoint? My mother is a genius when it comes to needlework. No doubt she would love to bring you some or teach you.”
“I’d like to improve my needlepoint,” Dahlia lied. She had never had much inclination for it – there were always more interesting things for her to do growing up, from the horses to her music. She thought spending more time with Mrs. Kent, however, was a good idea.
“Done,” James said decidedly. “Then, when you are ready, we shall have a steady stream of visitors for you until you are well enough to go downstairs.”
As good as his word, while Dahlia rested after lunch, he and Matty went in search of things to occupy Dahlia’s time. By dinner time, the desk was full of books and games, paper and sketching materials. A portable writing desk was produced and Dahlia began a letter to her father. James informed her he had written to Squire Talbot upon their arrival to let him know they had arrived safely.
Dahlia insisted that James and Matty go down for dinner and leave her alone to write her letters. She thought Matty would like to see Trevor MacTavish, even though she wouldn’t say it. She shooed them out of the room. Rory settled down in a tight curl at her feet, and she stared at the blank page in front of her. Part of her wanted solitude and quiet to think of what to say to her father and how to say it. Part of her was more tired from the day’s activities then she wanted to admit. She laid her head back on the pillow to think and fell asleep.
James and Matty walked down to the dining hall together, claiming victory with the surprise of Rory as well as Dahlia’s inclination to begin activities again. “She’ll soon be too engaged to spend much time looking into the past and trying to remember what happened,” Matty thought aloud.
James was about to agree with her when Dristan, the butler, stopped him in the foyer. “This letter arrived for you this afternoon, Master Jamie.”
He took the letter and read the return address. “Dahlia’s father,” he said gravely, looking at Matty. “Come.” He took her arm and led her to a sitting room off the main hallway. A single candle was lit by a settee. They sat down and James broke the letter’s seal and smoothed out the folded parchment. He held the pages so they both could read them.
Squire Talbot thanked James for the letter letting him know they had arrived safely. Then, he started right into a recounting of Alyce Standford’s surprising visit. Matty gasped as she read Alyce’s revelations about Dahlia’s mother and Lady Sweet. James gripped the pages, his anger rising. The second page contained the information that William had, in fact, attacked Dahlia and revealed the reasons Alyce had conveyed for his motivations.
Miss Standford seemed convinced that his attack did complete his threat to ensure Dahlia’s reputation was compromised, but she did not hear him actually admit the deed.
James looked at Matty upon reading this. “It has been about a month since the attack.”
She knew what he was asking without saying it in so many words. She merely shook her head. From her care of Dahlia since that dreadful night, she knew the young woman’s body better than Dahlia did at this point – every bruise and scrape and break. “Dr. Chase did say that her courses could be delayed from the trauma alone, and that we may have to wait for the second month before we can be sure.”
James nodded, and went back to reading the letter. He wanted to hear that William Standford was rotting in a jail cell and waiting to be hanged. Nothing else would satisfy his rage.
He was wrong. James took in a quick breath of surprise and Matty gasped again as they read that William was dead at the hands of his sister.
She stabbed him repeatedly to release her deranged wrath brought on not only my his latest infamy, but as a result of years of abuse. As gratified as I feel by his unnatural end, we still do not know the truth of whether or not he harmed our Dahlia in so irreparable a way as we fear. Miss Standford is quite unstable mentally. Only Edward Standford may know the real truth of what happened, and he is nowhere to be found.
The remainder of the letter merely indicated that Miss Standford was in a sanitarium and the constable – as well as the Roma – had extensive searches underway to find Edward. The letter closed with a plea to continue to watch over and care for his daughter, and to keep the truth from her as long as possible – forever if need be.
James and Matty sat quietly for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts. James’ thrill at hearing Dahlia’s attacker was dead – under violent circumstances – was short-lived as he realized they may never know the truth of the matter. Even the blessing of confirmation that Dahlia did not have the misfortune of carrying that madman’s child would still not give them the full knowledge of whether he had defiled her or not.
“They have to find Edward!” he said vehemently. “Where could he have gone?”
Matty just shook her head, numbed as she was by the news the letter contained.
A knock brought them both out of their reverie. It was Mary, one of the maids. “If you please, Master Jamie. Your mother was wondering if you would be joining us for dinner this evening.”
“Yes,” James answered distractedly. “Yes, we’re coming now. Thank you.” He refolded the letter and tucked it in his jacket pocket. He turned to Matty and whispered, “Not a word to Dahlia of this.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No,” she sighed. “To be sure, she’ll naught hear it from me.”
Together, they left the sitting room. As they entered the dining hall, Matty and James put on the masks they were now becoming accustomed to wearing to hide their true feelings and knowledge of what had really happened to the young woman upstairs. Both hid a small measure of relief at knowing Dahlia’s attacker had been identified, and was dead. Both also hid their anxiety that they still had to endure up to another month to know whether or not the worst – and most lasting outcome – of the attack was to be realized.
Once they had gone, Trevor eased out of his chair in the far corner of the room where he had been stealing a few moments alone away from all the noise of the castle. Finding a dark room in which to sit was the only way to be sure none of the children would find him and pester him for a story or a song. Matty and James had entered so quickly he barely had time to announce himself to them. Then, because of the secretive nature of their behavior, he purposefully kept silent. At first he thought there was perhaps something between them of which he should be aware before he made his affections for Matty known. The snippets of their conversation he overheard, however, dispelled that fear – and awoke a curiosity in him about the interaction that sounded very much like the beginnings of a very good story.
Chapter 68
The following week was as taxing for Dahlia as it was gratifying. Thanks to James, Matty, and Mrs. Kent, she had ample activities to occupy her time and mind. She sent off letters to her father and brothers at Talbot Hall, and then one to Steven and Maripaz. She was going to write to Miss McElroy, but she had no idea whether or not she had been informed of her sudden marriage, or of her accident. She put that letter aside until she could talk to Matty or James. She completed a sketch of Talisman, and started a ne
edlepoint of Mrs. Kent’s design. She enjoyed her conversations with her mother-in-law, although she found it hard not to make comparisons between her and Lady Sweet. They were so similar in many ways, including the easy way in which Anna got Dahlia to talk about things she really meant to keep private. She felt better for having voiced her thoughts, however, just as talking to Lady Sweet had always left her mind clearer and her outlook brighter.
The difference between them was in the quality of their appearance, Dahlia noted. Lady Sweet’s dress always appeared brand new, even when she recognized one of her gowns. Her jewelry sparkled and even her complexion seemed fresher. Anna’s dress was immaculately clean, but on closer observance, one could tell the additional wear her clothes endured. There was a lesser sheen on her satin, or a loosening of the once-tight stitching. Her jewelry, while beautiful and well-crafted, had an antique look to them while Lady Sweet’s always appeared as if they had been in the shop window the day before.
While Dahlia’s view of the castle was limited to her bedroom, she noted there, too, years of overuse. The linens were good quality, but were soft from the fraying of the fabric. The furniture was well polished and clean, but had nicks and small dents. The color of the carpet and tapestries had lost some of their brilliance.
Dahlia remembered James’ comments about the family having trouble maintaining the estate over the years, and of his uncle’s refusal to help his brother’s family after his death. Anna had led a greatly different life from that of Lady Sweet – one marred by worry of finances that showed in the small lines that appeared on her face. She thought the added grief of her husband’s passing contributed to their development. Dahlia did not feel sorry for her, though. Instead, she admired the woman’s courage and ability to appear – at first glance and through her composure, the lady she was by birth if not by title. She had also succeeded at raising James to be a gentleman and, from everything she had experienced, a very good sort of man.
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