He also shared with her his doubts about his ability to do the job he worked at so hard. This truly surprised her, but he explained that he had not completed his studies at university and, while he felt his practical experience in Adcote and Paris had given him more first-hand knowledge of what to do and how to do it, without going through his plans with the architects in Glasgow he would have made some disastrous mistakes. Dahlia couldn’t help but think everything did, indeed, happen for a reason and she told him so. Had everything between them not gone the way it had, he would not have had that time when the experts could review his intentions for the castle and given him so much advice and so many corrections.
James hadn’t thought about their separation – or its benefits – in that light before. He had to admit, she was quite right.
“How did you become so wise, Mrs. Kent, at such a young age?” he asked her late one night.
“Trial and error, Mr. Kent,” she replied. “More than I’d like to admit.”
He chuckled and stroked her face gently. “It will all come out right in the end. You’ll see. I love you Dahlia, and everything will be alright.”
He closed his eyes as that phrase again struck a chord in her memory that was clouded behind a veil. She tried to remember when he had first said that to her, but couldn’t place it. She also couldn’t find a memory of ever telling him she loved him. Surprised by this, she kept searching through the reaches of her mind, but came up empty-handed. How could it be that she had never said those words to her husband? He certainly had said that phrase countless times, and written them, too. She knew she did love him, very much. She whispered, “I love you, too, James,” but he had fallen asleep, and she felt very bad about having kept those words from him. She resolved to be sure he heard them loud and clear tomorrow.
Tomorrow, however, had other plans for her.
Chapter 83
By the time Dahlia came down to breakfast, she could hear horses and carriages and voices outside. Going to the window in the main hallway, she found Patrick and some of the other young boys peering out.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re putting the new roof on the East Wing.”
Looking out, Dahlia saw nearly fifty men of various ages and sizes walking to and fro, carrying tools, or milling about with their heads craned back to see to the heights of the East Wing. She saw James with plans under one arm, and pointing with the other.
Dahlia smiled and went into the dining room where she found most of the women of the castle and several from the village. “I just looked outside and thought we were having another cèilidh. I had no idea so many people would be here to help raise the roof!”
Anna smiled. “Only half are actually needed. The other half will stand around and supervise.”
“Aye, but all will claim they did it and want their share of whiskey when all is said and done,” said one of Anna’s sisters.
Just then, Patrick and his friends ran in to ask if they could go outside. His mother smiled at him and asked, “Are you a supervisor in training?”
Patrick didn’t know what a supervisor was, so he just said, “No, we just want to watch.”
“He’s already halfway to becoming one!”
Everyone laughed at little Patrick’s expense, but his mother gave him permission and the boys flew out of the room.
“Better to have them underfoot outside and not in here.”
Dahlia sat down and Grace poured her tea. Through the window she could see long steel beams being carried by two men each. She also noted there were three cartloads of them. She leaned over to Anna and whispered, “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but who paid for all that steel? It must have cost a fortune!”
“James did. Well, he was able to because of his uncle’s wedding gift. Didn’t James tell you?”
Dahlia felt foolish, once again, on account of her memory loss. Anna could see her trying to remember and felt guilty for having pointed out something to her that she could not possibly know.
“Forgive me, Dahlia. Of course he probably told you at the time. Lord Telford gave you both a most generous sum. James used part of it for the renovations, but I daresay there will be plenty left to set you both up for a time.”
“Oh, that was very thoughtful of him.” She had met Lord Telford only once, at the Cirencester ball. She vaguely recalled he and the Earl of Bathurst knew each other. “Isn’t…doesn’t that surprise you?” she had to ask. She could not remember ever hearing a kind word about Lord Telford from James.
“Yes,” Anna said laughing. “It does seem most uncharacteristic of him. But none of us were going to refuse the gift, no matter how surprising the gesture.”
“Oh dear. I should write and thank him. How shall I explain I just found out, though?”
“No doubt James took care of that on behalf of you both. But perhaps you could write him and let him know the good use to which the money is being put now.”
“Yes. Of course. Thank you, Anna.”
“Don’t be surprised if you do not get a reply. I have written him every year at Christmas and his birthday since I was married. I have yet to hear back from him.”
Dahlia thought this very kind of a woman whose husband had been disowned by Lord Telford and the rest of his family on account of marrying her. Nonetheless, she was not surprised by her generosity or tenacity, and Dahlia was determined to let her be a model for her own behavior. She finished her tea and went up to write to Lord Telford straight away.
She sat at her desk and penned two drafts before deciding on the right words. She copied them to a third and final letter, then affixed her seal. She stared at the blank front of the letter, realizing she did not have his address in London. She went into James’ study through the sitting room. No doubt he would have it somewhere.
The office was a bit of a disaster. She went to the desk, but it had several piles of rolled up plans and others laid out with mugs holding them open. She noted one was entitled “The Kent Wing.” Curious, she studied the plans. The layout showed expanded quarters for her and James, along with apartments for his mother. Apparently, he planned on finishing the East Wing so they could take over the entire second and third floor of this wing. She noted one room, smaller than the rest but adjoining their bedroom, that simply had a question mark on it. Dahlia smiled. Perhaps James was thinking ahead to a nursery. They had not talked about having children, and the possibility had obviously not yet come up. Dahlia ran a finger over the question mark, touched that he was planning for their future, even if she had not yet thought that far ahead.
Standing up again, Dahlia’s sleeve caught on one of the rolled up plans and the entire pile rolled off onto the floor. She went to pick them up but only found five; she could have sworn there were six. Getting on her hands and knees, she peered under the couch. The last one had rolled underneath. She grabbed it, but saw that there was a wooden box under the furniture as well. She pulled it out, too. It was polished mahogany with the Kent crest skillfully carved onto the lid. James’ initials were engraved in the corner. There was no latch or lock, so she opened the lid. Inside were a bunch of letters and newspaper clippings. A word finely written in calligraphy peaked out from underneath the correspondence and caught her attention: Marriage. She pulled out the letters and found a Marriage Certificate – hers to be exact. For the first time, it struck her that she did not know the date she was married. With everything else to be told about the event, she had never thought to ask. She laughed aloud, wondering when it would have occurred to her that she didn’t know when to celebrate her first anniversary!
She looked down at the signatures, but couldn’t even make out her own. It looked like she had been drunk when she signed it. Her tutors had always said she had very fine penmanship, but her name wasn’t even written well, never mind signed as she usually signed her letters. She would have to ask James about that later. Then she realized she couldn’t ask him without letting him know she had looked in the box. Quickly, sh
e replaced the certificate at the bottom, then started to gather up the letters to put them back as well.
She stopped, however, when she realized the letters were from her father and, of all people, Miss McElroy. Hers was pinned to the newspaper clippings. She was hesitant to open the letters, but the clippings were not concealed. They appeared to be a serial of some sort, but Miss McElroy had underlined certain passages on each of them. ‘Green eyes,’ ‘mind’s music,’ ‘hasty wedding,’ ‘castle in Scotland,’ ‘amnesia due to a fall from a horse,’ and more. Dahlia realized all of these passages were about her. There were more than five clippings and Dahlia didn’t have the patience to read them in their entirety. She lost her inhibitions about opening the letters and began with Miss McElroy’s. Hers contained just the briefest introduction about having had a letter from Dahlia, then reading the enclosed serials and finding all the pertinent facts of the former included in the latter. The rest was a list of questions – demands really – to know who had written the story and what had really happened to…her.
Finding no answers, Dahlia put Miss McElroy’s letter aside and picked up those from her father. Reading the postmark dates, she started with the first which had arrived just weeks after their arrival in Scotland. It opened with the usual salutations and relief that they had arrived safely – which Dahlia scanned quickly. When she came to mention of Alyce Standford arriving at Talbot Hall covered in blood, however, Dahlia slowed her reading to make sure she got every word.
Dahlia cried out as she read that William Stanford had killed her mother. That couldn’t be right. Her mother died of a sudden fever. Her father had told her so! Yet, this letter was penned by him and he did not contradict what Alyce had told him her brother did all those years ago.
The next paragraph was worse. According to Alyce, Mr. Standford had killed Lady Sweet by overturning her carriage when she had gone to her aunt’s. Dahlia clutched the letter to her chest with the pain of learning her dear friend did not have to die, that it had not been God’s plan, but William Stanford’s. Dahlia remembered the last dinner Lady Sweet had attended at Talbot Hall because it was the last time she saw her alive. The Standfords had been there, and she distinctly remembered Mr. Standford appearing to be very interested in when Lady Sweet would be leaving and returning from her trip.
“Oh, God,” Dahlia cried. It was no wonder her father had written to James and not to her. Her father knew the anguish Dahlia had felt when her friend died, and she would have preferred never to have learned of the truth of her death – or that of her mother – in the whole of her life. Dahlia felt she had opened Pandora’s Box, and a pestilence of bad news had come forth in the form of the letters she found. She could not resist continuing to read, however, for she still did not know the point of the clippings or Miss McElroy’s questions.
Wiping tears from her eyes, Dahlia continued to read. It was then she saw her name, and every sound in the world disappeared: the voices of the crowd outside, the pounding of the construction, even the rustle of the stationary as her hand trembled. She was in a vortex where nothing existed but the words coming off the page.
…she was convinced that his attack did complete his threat to ensure Dahlia’s reputation was compromised…She stabbed him repeatedly…We still do not know the truth of whether or not he harmed our Dahlia in so irreparable a way as we fear…Only Edward Standford may know the real truth of what happened, and he is nowhere to be found…Watch over and care for my daughter…Protect her from the truth – forever if need be.
Dahlia felt the vortex sucking the breath out of her as it had sucked all sound out of her world. She saw a shadow creep over her in the office and turned around sharply to see William Standford glaring at her. She cried out and shut her eyes, but when she opened them, only sunlight streamed down on her and she was alone. She felt a pain searing in her head and she dropped the letter to put both hands to her temples. Mr. Standford had been there at the ravine. She saw him kick over the cairn stones, and his hand grabbing her wrist. She remembered the attack, the pain, the frustration at not being able to move, and the panic of being trapped when he leaned over her with his arms pressing down on her shoulders, followed by the weight of him on her body.
…Harmed our Dahlia in so irreparable a way as we fear…
“NO!” Dahlia screamed at the top of her lungs – she screamed with all the power in her as she had not been able to do at the ravine because of her injuries and the extraordinary pain. She heard her scream, the hammers and voices outside – and the music of everything and everyone she had ever met in her life – all overlaid to one another in her mind until she thought her head would explode.
Then, the world went black.
Chapter 84
“Mrs. Kent? Miss Dahlia?”
Dahlia came to and her vision cleared to reveal the face of a very anxious Maggie.
“Did ye fall? Are ye alright?” She helped Dahlia to a sitting position. “Shall I fetch the doctor?”
Dahlia saw the box, and the letters and clippings. “No,” she replied calmly. “A doctor can do nothing now.”
“Shall I get Master Jamie?”
“No!” Dahlia said sharply, but looking at Maggie, she heard a tentative, liltingly soft song in her mind. “It’s not necessary, Maggie,” she said more kindly. “He’s working. Thank you, though. I just need a few moments to myself.”
“Alright then,” Maggie said with a smile. “Let me just help ye onto the couch, Mrs. Kent.” She did so, then turned and walked out of the room, looking tentatively over her shoulder.
Dahlia smiled at her for reassurance, but the smile faded along with Maggie’s music when she left the room. For nearly a year, Dahlia had pined for the loss of her music. She had had no idea how dear the cost of getting it back would be.
Her head ached, but everything in her mind was sorted out again. She remembered everything – the truth of Mr. Standford attacking her, of telling her he had killed her mother at the very same spot where he would ensure that no one would have her except his son. She remembered his deranged rantings about getting his hands on her father’s money to save his estate.
She remembered the lies as well as the truth. Her memory was quite clear now. She had not married James of her own volition then fallen from a horse. He pitied her and married her despite the shame that Mr. Standford forced on her. Or perhaps her father paid him to marry her. Maybe Lord Telford never had a change of heart with respect to his nephew and the money was actually her dowry.
She never fell from Talisman; no horse could do the damage she had seen on her face. Yet they had made her believe…they had lied about everything. She never agreed to come to Scotland. She did not have marital relations with James before the fall; James and Matty had thought she was pregnant by Standford. James and Matty spun a tale as well as any she had ever read in a book. And she had believed them. She believed James loved her. No wonder he went looking for Mary Gordon. He had no real connection with her. She doubted the marriage certificate she had found could even be upheld by the law. If she had signed it at all, it was under the influence of laudanum.
Dahlia got off the couch, straightened her dress and smoothed her hair. She left the office and went into her bedroom. She looked around; nothing but her clothes really belonged to her. She would send for those later. Right now, she needed to be away from this place. It was not her home, and this was not her family. She would not stay here to be fed more lies.
Dahlia left the room without looking back.
-----
Maggie was still concerned about the young Mrs. Kent when she went downstairs. Probably best if she told someone about her faint. She crossed paths with Matty outside the drawing room.
“Excuse me, Miss Matty, but ye might want to look in on young Mrs. Kent. She had a fainting spell.”
“A fainting spell?”
“Aye. Well, I didn’t see her faint as such, but I found her on the floor upstairs.”
“Where is she?”
> “I left her on the couch in Master Jamie’s office.”
“Thank you, Maggie,” Matty said, rushing towards the staircase.
When she arrived at the office, the couch was empty. She saw a wooden box with papers and letters all around it on the floor. Matty walked over to see what they were. The minute she saw Squire Talbot’s letter, she ran into Dahlia’s bedroom, which she found likewise empty.
“Dahlia?” she called. With no answer forthcoming, she raced downstairs. She kept calling Dahlia’s name and looking into parlors and drawing rooms. When she came across James’ mother and her sisters, Anna noted the look on her face.
“Matty? What’s the matter?”
“Have you seen Dahlia?”
“No. Why?”
“I saw her not five minutes ago when I went to refill the tea,” said one of James’ aunts.
“Where was she going?”
“She went outside. Probably to watch the raising of the roof, or to take a ride.”
“Matty, what is going on?” Anna asked, but Matty had already left.
She went to the castle’s courtyard where all the activity was taking place to erect the new roof. Dahlia was nowhere in sight. She looked for James instead, but had to ask where he was. As she received the answer from one of the village men, she looked up, squinting. James was on one of the circular tower parapets. She called his name, but he was too far away. Matty ran up the circular staircase to the top. By the time she got there, she was winded. James looked over at her.
“What’s the matter, Matty?”
“She knows,” she said huffing. “She read her father’s letter to you. Fainted. Maggie found her, but she’s left the castle.”
James used the height of the tower to scan the grounds. He saw a figure on a brown horse leave the stable yard at a canter. “No, damn it!”
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