Lavender Blue

by Sandra Heath

  “Oh, yes, most definitely.” Corinna drew a deep breath. “I feel as if I am on the brink of something quite wonderful.”

  Anthea had to bite her lip to prevent herself from bursting into tears. Jovian, I need you, please come now.... But he didn’t come.

  Lady Letitia sniffed. “The brink of something wonderful? Corinna, my dear, I sincerely hope it will be a restorative cup of tea at Miss Wheatley’s residence, followed by a good hearty meal.”

  Longton looked at her. “What shall I do, my lady? Drive on in the hope of finding a house or cottage? Or try to find the way back to Cathness?”

  “Oh, drive on for a while, I suppose,” Lady Letitia replied. “If we don’t find anything in the next ten minutes, we’ll have no choice but to try to return to the town. It goes against the grain, but I fear we will have to seek accommodation, although not at the Cross Foxes!”

  “Very well, my lady.”

  Longton assisted them back into the carriage, then wearily resumed his seat, but they had not proceeded more than a few hundred yards when Anthea again heard chanting. It came from behind a hedgerow that was blushed pink by the disappearing sun, and she glimpsed a scene exactly like the one they had observed when Sir Erebus had halted the carriage.

  A circle of twenty or so reapers stood in the center of a harvested field that was dotted with stocks. The men’s heads were bowed, they clasped their sickles and scythes before them, and their long shadows stretched away over the stubble. Watching from the far end of the field was a gathering of the women, children, and older men who had been gleaning and binding the sheaves.

  The chanting carried clearly. “Come to us, O Harvest Maiden. Protect us from the Lavender Lady. Come to us, O Harvest Maiden.... Come to us, O Harvest Maiden. Protect us from the Lavender Lady. Come to us, O Harvest Maiden....” Then the circle parted, and the men formed a long line that faced the carriage, allowing a clear view of the last stalks of wheat around which they had been standing.

  Corinna saw as well. “Isn’t that little bit of uncut wheat called the neck?”

  “I have no idea,” Lady Letitia replied.

  “Yes, I’m sure it is. In some parts of the country there is a ceremony called ‘Crying the Neck,’ in which they throw their sickles at the last stand of wheat because they believe a baleful female spirit is hiding in it. I thought they called her the White Lady, but here she seems to have changed color to lavender. Anyway, until she is driven away, their harvest isn’t safe.”

  Lady Letitia looked at her in astonishment. “How do you know all that, my dear?”

  “Oh, Mama told me. She said there were all sorts of traditions, superstitions, and archaic beliefs associated with harvest.”

  “Well, if she came from these parts, I can well believe she knew what she was talking about. It almost makes me wish to turn my back on botany and study anthropology instead.”

  Corinna had to smile. “But Lady Letitia, that would not do, for unlike plants, people are inclined to answer back.”

  Lady Letitia eyed her severely. “And you, Miss Chit, are a prime example of that!”

  The lane led around two sides of the field, so the harvest ritual remained in view for quite some time. At first Anthea did not notice that the line of men was somehow always facing her square on, but then she realized they were turning in time with the carriage’s pace. It meant they were always looking at it, no matter what, and all the time she could hear their droning chant. Her stomach tightened more and more as the agony of suspense intensified. She almost wished it would all begin in earnest... whatever it was.

  A new scent replaced the warmth of honeysuckle and harvested wheat that had filled the air for so long. Now there was lavender, fresh, piquant, and to Anthea as strong as though she had dabbed her skin with the oil. She looked through the other carriage window into the glinting crimson-and-gold dazzle of the sunset and was astonished to see a haze of purple-blue lavender. Row after row of the shrub stretched across a field, flowering as abundantly and fragrantly as if it were the beginning of summer, not the end. Was this the lavender that had blown as sweetly at Christmas too?

  She thought of Jovian’s description of the mysterious nineteen-year cycle. The time... when the lavender blooms out of season, the harvest is ready, and there are two full moons in August....

  Corinna suddenly spoke urgently. “I don’t feel at all well, Lady Letitia; in fact, I think I’m about to be very sick!”

  Lady Letitia was alarmed and hurriedly leaned out to call Longton. “Stop the carriage, if you please! And quickly, for Miss Pranton is unwell!”

  “Yes, my lady!” The carriage jolted to a halt, and Corinna, now very pale and wan, climbed swiftly down and walked a few steps back to a gnarled old oak tree they had just passed. She stepped into the poppies and deep grass that grew beneath the overhanging branches and put a steadying hand against the trunk, then bowed her head, as if awaiting the retching to begin.

  The chanting had stopped in the field, but only Anthea noticed as she and her aunt alighted too. Lady Letitia went to Corinna. “Oh, my poor dear, the motion of a carriage can be unsettling at the best of times, but in these winding, rather uneven lanes, I fear it is worse than ever. My legs feel a little wobbly too. Most disagreeable.”

  Anthea saw the reapers departing, along with their audience, among whom she spotted the miscreant Billy Dennis. Everything was now utterly quiet, except for the occasional sound from the carriage team. Night was imminent, with the shadows reaching so far that they merged together and seemed to mask what remained of the sunset.

  Corinna closed her eyes. “This is dreadful,” she whispered.

  “Can I get you anything, my dear?” Lady Letitia inquired.

  “No. Just let me stay here a minute or so.”

  “Very well.” Lady Letitia returned to Anthea and then noticed the field of lavender for the first time. She stared at it. “Impossible,” she declared. “Lavendula vera should be over and done with by the beginning of August; yet I appear to be looking at a crop as fine as Mitcham in June.”

  “But Jovian gave me fresh lavender on Christmas Eve,” Anthea reminded her.

  “Which he claimed to have picked here, but more likely it came from a hothouse at a Chelsea market garden. Anthea, he made a dilly of you. A lavender blue, dilly, dilly, in fact!” Lady Letitia chuckled, for Huw had once told her that dilly was the Gloucestershire dialect word for fool.

  Anthea tried to smile too, but then from nowhere a quotation from Macbeth came into her head. By the pricking of my thumbs, / Something wicked this way comes ... There was a familiar echo of thunder from the cloudless sky, signaling that the hare was close by. Corinna! She whirled about, but there was no one beneath the oak tree or along the lane in either direction. “Where’s Corinna?” she gasped.

  Lady Letitia turned too. “She must have gone around the carriage,” she said sensibly. “Corinna, my dear? Are you all right?”

  There was no answer, and Longton cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but Miss Pranton is not by the carriage at all.”

  “Then she must have climbed back in,” Lady Letitia declared, and went to see. But the carriage was empty. Puzzled, she too looked up and down the lane. “She must be here somewhere,” she murmured.

  Anthea’s heart had begun to hammer in her breast, and she felt as cold as ice. Corinna, oh, Corinna ...

  Lady Letitia called much more loudly, but there was only silence. Longton stood up and gazed all around, concentrating on the continually gathering shadows, but there was nothing.

  Corinna Pranton seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Corinna’s sudden disappearance left Anthea feeling numb. It was all her fault. She had failed to prevent the journey continuing here to Cathness and failed to watch Corinna closely enough. If she had been Sir Erebus Lethe’s faithful handmaiden, she could not have aided him more.

  Lady Letitia blamed herself as well. She was Cor
inna’s guardian and chaperon and would rightly be judged careless. Oh, how could she have been so negligent as to allow Corinna to be—to be what? There was no knowing what had happened, because no one had heard or seen anything. Had she been abducted? Was kidnap, not robbery, the plan they should have suspected when Billy Dennis ran off and left them? Would a ransom be demanded for Corinna’s return?

  Anthea saw her aunt’s distress and hurried to comfort her. “Please don’t upset yourself, Aunt Letty, for it isn’t your fault.”

  “Isn’t it? Oh, I should never have let her out of my sight. Why, just this morning I was foolish enough to let you wander off in Savernake Forest. Anything might have happened to you....”

  “But nothing did happen to me, Aunt Letty. Besides, where Corinna is concerned, we were both here with her, and Longton was too. None of us saw anything.” Anthea felt worse by far as she tried to encourage her aunt; after all she had known something would happen and yet said nothing. The only way to have prevented this would have been to return to London as Jovian had begged.

  Lady Letitia strove to concentrate. “Might she have strolled a little for the fresh air, stumbled over something, and tumbled into that ditch on the other side of the lane?” She pointed a quivering finger.

  “But surely we would have heard?” Anthea replied. “And wouldn’t she have cried out if she fell?”

  “Maybe, but we cannot be certain. She may have been knocked unconscious!” Lady Letitia clutched Anthea’s arm. “Oh, I dare not look, my dear. You must do it for me!”

  Hopeful that her own fears might be unfounded after all, Anthea hastened across the lane to inspect the ditch, which was overhung by the luxuriant hedgerow. A blackbird flew off in noisy alarm as she approached, and the loud cries were piercing after the silence.

  Darkness was coming on by the second now, every branch and leaf was in silhouette, and the western sky was a smudge of deep crimson. The grass at the edge of the ditch was undisturbed, and the lower hedgerow had not suffered any broken twigs or damaged leaves. It needed only a glance to tell that Corinna had not fallen here or even stepped on to the verge.

  “She isn’t here, Aunt Letty—” she began, then broke off as she saw a gap in the hedgerow. It was very narrow, a mere foot of space between a hawthorn and a crab apple tree, and she could see that it was very unlikely indeed that Corinna could have gone through it without tearing some leaves, but nevertheless ... “There’s a way into the wheat field,” she said. “I’ll just go through to see if there is any sign of her.”

  “Oh, do be careful, my dear.”

  The hedgerow rustled and shook as Anthea pushed her way into the harvested field, which now stretched eerily into the darkness. She shivered a little as she stood there, for an echo of the chanting seemed to drift on the air, but it was only imagination. But suddenly she wasn’t frightened, and she knew it was because Jovian was close by. She turned instinctively, and he was there. “Oh, Jovian!” she whispered, and ran into his waiting arms.

  He crushed her body to his, and their hearts beat close as they shared a long kiss that ached with love and desire. She needed him so much that tears were wet on her cheeks and lips, and her fingers shook as she pushed them longingly through his fair hair. The wretchedness once suffered at his hands might never have been, because once again there was only the immeasurable love that had been kindled when first they met.

  But then chill reality returned to her, and she pulled out of his arms. “I’m sorry, I—I’m so sorry! I couldn’t make them abandon the journey, and now ... and now Corinna has gone,” she said brokenly, trying not to let her voice carry through the hedgerow into the lane.

  “I know, my sweeting, I know,” he whispered back, taking her face in his warm hands and kissing her lips again. They might have been one in that lingering moment.

  As their lips parted again, she looked into his eyes. “You know where she is, don’t you? You were expecting this and know what has happened to her?”

  “I did not know exactly how it would be done, but, yes, it is more or less what I expected.”

  “Tell me, please,” Anthea pleaded.

  “Lethe has her, probably at Wycke Hall but possibly at the Cross Foxes.”

  “But why? What reason does he have?”

  He glanced around, then looked intently at her in the virtual darkness. “All I will say for the moment is that she is Persephone to Lethe’s Hades.”

  Anthea started with shock, for she knew the myth of Persephone, Demeter, and Hades. “How—how can I possibly believe that?”

  “Because it is true. I will tell you everything when you are at the castle,” he replied.

  “The castle? But we don’t know where—”

  He put a finger to her lips. “It is just the other side of the lavender field, barely a quarter of a mile as the crow flies.”

  “If it is so close, why haven’t we seen it already?”

  “Because the sunset dazzled in that direction. You will see it well enough now. If Longton drives on a short way he will find an entrance to the lavender field. Leave the carriage there and walk the rest of the way. Don’t dawdle, for it is not wise to be out at night anywhere, let alone here.”

  “But Corinna—”

  “—is safe enough until the peak of the full moon the day after tomorrow.”

  She gazed at him in the darkness. “What happens then?” she asked fearfully.

  He didn’t answer the question. “Just do as I have instructed, and when you reach the castle, tell Sebbriz that—”

  “Who?”

  “Sebbriz, my—er, steward.”

  The way he spoke told her that the steward ranked along with Sir Erebus, Obed Dennis, and Abigail Wheatley. “He is one of their number, isn’t he?” she inquired.

  “Yes. He is Cerberus.”

  Anthea’s heart seemed to stop, for Cerberus was the mythical hound of Hades, a monstrous, many-headed creature that guarded the entrance to the nether world.

  Jovian put his lips to hers again, a gesture that was meant to—and did—reassure her. “He will not harm you, my darling, nor will anyone. You are to tell him the gist of what has actually happened, that you were deserted by your guide, that Corinna has gone, and that you are seeking my assistance. This will be accepted, and you will be given shelter. Later, when you and I can be alone, I will explain absolutely everything.”

  Lady Letitia was becoming anxious. “Anthea? Is something wrong?” Her voice shook, and it was clear she feared a second calamity.

  Anthea called back. “I’m all right, Aunt Letty. Please don’t worry. I’m just having a really good look, just in case. But I haven’t found anything.”

  “Please come back, my dear.”

  “All right.” Anthea looked up into Jovian’s eyes again. “I love you,” she said softly.

  “A love that is more than reciprocated,” he replied.

  They kissed again, clinging together as if the parting might be their last; then she slipped reluctantly from his arms and went back to the hedgerow. She paused to glance back at him, but he had already gone, so she continued through the foliage into the lane, where she found her aunt pacing distractedly up and down.

  “Oh, there you are!” Lady Letitia cried, running forward to catch her by both hands. “Don’t you venture out of my sight again, for I could not endure it if you disappeared too!”

  Anthea looked across the lavender field. Sure enough, beyond a small wood of Scotch pines, she saw the beautiful outline of Cathness Castle against the western horizon. There were some lights at the upper windows and in a single-story wing that projected to one side, presumably the kitchens and other such offices. “Oh, look! It’s the castle!” she cried, hoping to sound surprised.

  Lady Letitia and Longton turned. The coachman stared, then scratched his head, unable to believe he had driven mile upon mile, only to end up a little over four hundred yards from the bend in the road by the lych-gate and lodge. Lady Letitia was overwhelmed with relief.


  “Oh, some good fortune at last, for we are bound to receive assistance there,” she breathed. “But how can we get out of these wretched lanes?”

  “The best thing is to leave the carriage and walk straight there,” Anthea said, this time determined to impose Jovian’s instructions.

  “Walk?” Lady Letitia was horrified.

  “Yes, Aunt Letty. It cannot be far. Maybe there is a way to get there through the lavender field a little farther on down the lane, where we can get the carriage off the road. Then we can take the horses, our night cases, and our valuables with us, so there will only be the carriage itself and some less important luggage if any thieves should come.”

  Longton thought she spoke good sense and climbed down before Lady Letitia could argue. “Let me assist you back into the carriage, your ladyships. I carry a lantern for emergencies, so we can easily light our way to the castle,” he said, trying not to sound too hasty, for this place gave him cold shivers, and he imagined a murderous robber behind every tree and wheat stock.

  As if on cue at just this fearful train of thought, there was another gloomy drum roll of thunder. The coachman glanced up nervously, and Lady Letitia flinched. Only Anthea knew what it was, and she glanced around for the hare. Sure enough, it was there, eyes shining, ears pricked as it crouched among the poppies through which Corinna had walked to the oak tree. It bared its teeth, as it had before in the garden of Berkeley Square, before scrambling beneath the overhanging hedgerow into the lavender field.

  No one else saw it, for Longton was already ushering Lady Letitia into the carriage. Then he helped Anthea, too, and resumed his seat to drive on down the lane in search of a way into the lavender field. At last he found what Jovian had spoken of, a wide break in the hedgerow that gave sufficient access for two fully laden farm carts to pass through side by side. He maneuvered the cumbersome carriage out of the lane and onto the wide border of long grass that ran around the field, then climbed down to assist the two women again.

  The lavender was a pale gray-mauve haze, and the air unbelievably warm and scented. Everything was as quiet as—as the grave, Anthea thought. For a moment they all stood there listening intently, and if a twig had snapped or another blackbird flown off in alarm, Lady Letitia was sure she would have expired of fright.