“You’re sure no one asked you any questions that day you were last out at Stavewood?” Dianna had to ask one last time.
“No!” Octavia shouted, inches from her mother’s face. “I told you! That foolish girl was running all over the place telling everyone what to do and the place was packed with people. I sat alone forever in the parlor and Timothy did not even greet me or pay any attention to the fact that I was there!” Octavia buried her face in her hands and wailed loudly.
Dianna held the bawling young woman by her broad shoulders and tried frantically to soothe the sobbing girl.
“Alright,” Dianna sighed. “You go ahead and get back home. Take care that no one sees you at the junction. I’ll fix everything, I promise.”
“Fine!” Octavia grunted, her eyes suddenly dry. She began roughly pushing her gloves down onto her plump fingers. “If I see Uncle Finn I’ll send him straight up. Goodbye, Mother.” Octavia threw her cape haphazardly over her shoulders and rushed out to her carriage.
Dianna Weintraub watched the carriage bound along the narrow path, disappearing into the dense forest, and swore under her breath.
“Damn that Finn,” she cursed aloud.
If the fool man hadn’t gotten in the middle of things, all of this would be so much simpler, she thought. Of all the rotten luck, after watching that train for days, waiting for that damn bride.
“If I had not left him at Hawk Bend just for those few hours he would never have laid eyes on the girl and been so taken with her,” Dianna spat. “What the hell were you thinking, Finn?” she shouted towards the sky. “Why the hell did you set her free for Elgerson to find, and why did you try to hide that damn shack?”
Dianna leaned in the doorway, struggling to push her illogical younger brother out of her mind. He had insisted he hadn’t set her free, and he took apart the shack so she wouldn’t come back. He made no sense at all. He was gone now, it had to be done. Dianna Weintraub returned to the warmth of the lodge and pulled the door closed behind her.
Confident that Rebecca was too afraid to tell anyone about her, Dianna believed that, should anyone question Octavia, she had little to tell. She was not entirely comfortable that Octavia had remembered the rarely used hunting lodge, but the woman assured herself that her dear daughter had everything to gain by getting the man she wanted, and would not tell anyone of her whereabouts.
She assured herself that it was probably a better idea to let her daughter go home. Jude was due back at any time, and had he showed up while Octavia was there, it would have been difficult to explain. Dianna went back to studying the train schedules.
By midnight she began to curse the man. He still had not arrived as they had planned. Considering the fact that he was not much brighter than her fool brother, Dianna began to wonder if she would be forced to seek him out as well. Without him her plans for the next train hold-up would have to wait. As it was, they were being forced to travel far out of the area.
Octavia hurried down the mountain towards home. She wanted to change into a more provocative outfit and pay Timothy a friendly visit. Once he saw her in her revealing new dress she was sure she could distract him from that British bitch.
By mid-afternoon she had stuffed herself into the gown. She had traveled miles to find a dressmaker that would finally listen to her about how a decent dress ought to fit. She rouged her cheeks brightly before lumbering into her carriage and heading west.
Chapter Forty-Seven
As he pierced the crust of his steaming chicken pie Mark exclaimed, “I remember last year when it piled up so high we couldn’t even see the stables!”
“I think you’re upsetting Rebecca with your stories, Mark.” Timothy looked up at the boy sternly as he saw the woman frown with concern over massive amounts of snow.
“But, it’s true Pa! You remember. We had to tie a rope to the house just to find our way back!”
Rebecca gasped. “Oh, Timothy, is that really true?”
Elgerson glared at the boy.
“Rebecca, have you given any thought to your wedding gown?” Timothy thought he had better change the subject as Rebecca’s face was consumed with worry.
“Yes!” Her face lit up.
“I thought maybe you had,” the big man chuckled.
“Timothy, I’d like to ask you something.” She swallowed, unsure of how to bring up the topic.
Timothy lowered his fork and watched her face seriously.
“In the attic, there are a few sewing things. I wondered if perhaps I might…if no one is using them and if they aren’t too personal or anything…” Rebecca lowered her eyes unsure if she might be approaching a sensitive subject.
Timothy sat back in his chair.
“You mean the sewing machine?” Mark swallowed his mouthful of food.
“Yes,” Rebecca replied, watching Timothy’s face darken.
“I bought that machine for Corissa.” Timothy cleared his throat and looked at the young woman.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Rebecca returned to her hot lunch.
“Rebecca?” She looked up at the man, ashamed for having mentioned the machine. “I could have the men bring it down this afternoon. Would you like to use it?” He studied her fair face.
“I didn’t know exactly what it meant. It’s not important.”
“Do you know how to use it? Could you teach me?” The boy squirmed in his chair.
“What did you think it meant when you saw it up there?” Timothy continued to watch her closely, and Rebecca became increasingly uncomfortable.
“I don’t know.” She faced him, looking into his eyes. “It’s quite beautiful and I thought it a waste to have such a lovely machine put away like that when someone could be enjoying it.”
“Amazing,” he smiled, his eyes never leaving hers. “Then I give it to you. What do you plan to do with it?”
Rebecca caught her breath. “Sew, of course!” She grinned and resumed her lunch happily. Timothy Elgerson was an unusual man indeed, she thought to herself.
“Rebecca, I have some things I must deal with this afternoon. I have paperwork I’ve been putting off for far too long. When Mark comes back with the men why don’t you have them rearrange the room you’ve been using and bring whatever you like from the attic.” They walked towards the study.
Rebecca kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Stavewood is yours, Rebecca, and everything in it, including me. You were right, what you said earlier. What happened before shouldn’t matter. That sewing machine did mean something when I ordered it. But, like many other things around here, I didn’t know it at the time. I’m beginning to think that I did several things for you, Rebecca, without ever realizing.” He stood studying her delicate face. “I hope you enjoy it.
“Besides,” he continued. “You can change that bedroom into a sewing room since you won’t need it as a bedroom any longer.”
Rebecca gasped. A change in the sleeping arrangements was a topic she had avoided. Timothy watched her as she bit her lip thoughtfully.
“Timothy, I can’t just move into your room!”
“Why not?” He smiled at her devilishly.
“We’re only just engaged. Maybe in America couples sleep together before they are married, but not in England.”
“It didn’t seem to matter before.” He watched her seriously.
“I’d be so embarrassed. Everyone would know. What would we tell Mark? He can’t think that’s how people behave.” Rebecca was uncomfortable. She wanted nothing more than to spend every night with him, warm and safe beside him in the huge bed.
“What was it you said you wanted, Rebecca?” He pulled her to him suddenly.
“You,” she whispered.
“Then you had better plan a wedding very quickly, my dear, because I will not wait long.” He kissed her eagerly.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The resounding knocker echoed suddenly in the foyer and made Rebecca jump. She
smoothed her hair as Timothy growled and pulled open the front door.
“Octavia!”
Rebecca heard Timothy’s startled exclamation and caught her breath.
The big woman bounded into the house, handing Timothy her cape casually. She exposed her wide cleavage, almost enough to show her areolas, and she threw herself into Timothy’s arms, greeting him with a brash kiss.
Rebecca gasped and held her fingertips to her face.
Elgerson grabbed Octavia by her substantial shoulders and stood solidly facing her.
“Octavia,” he glared at her angrily.
“Oh, Tim.” She fanned her face with her glove. “I’ve been so worried about Mick. I came here while you were searching for him, but no one told you I was here and I wanted so badly to see you.” Octavia stared angrily past the towering man and frowned towards Rebecca.
“Mark is just fine,” Elgerson grunted.
“Oh how wonderful.” Octavia brushed past the man and faced Rebecca squarely. “I see that you are still here.”
Timothy stepped beside Rebecca and spoke firmly to Octavia.
“Rebecca has decided to stay at Stavewood, Octavia.”
The woman’s thickset face turned white.
“Oh. But there’s hardly any snow out there just yet.” Octavia began fussing with her sleeve and pressed her hand against her bodice. The garment shifted slightly and Timothy lifted an eye brow in anticipation of the view he feared might present itself with a ‘pop’ at any moment.
Rebecca lowered her gaze and touched her forehead, equally afraid of what she might witness.
“Come in, Octavia.” Timothy gestured towards the parlor, hoping that, if the big girl would sit down, all three of them might be spared the certainty of great embarrassment. Besides, he wanted to speak to her regarding her mother’s whereabouts.
“Perhaps you would care for tea?” Rebecca asked politely, as Timothy smiled briefly towards her and she struggled with her composure. She was not entirely sure what the man was up to, but accepted his lead curiously. Something about Octavia made her uneasy, even before she knew the kind of person she was.
“Actually I am quite famished. I had no chance to eat anything this morning.” Octavia settled into the chair as it creaked in loud protest.
“I’ll see to correcting that.” Rebecca nodded to Timothy and left to prepare a tray in the kitchen.
“How is your mother these days, Octavia?” Timothy sat across from her, his elbows on his knees facing the girl squarely and doing his utmost to ignore her display.
Octavia studied his fine face. He was carefully shaven, his cheekbones high and smooth. His hair was pulled back neatly and gathered at his nape, exposing his long, elegant neck, tanned a golden brown. His expression was serious and she could have swooned as she looked into his soft brown eyes.
“Mother?” Octavia struggled to recall how she was supposed to respond. “Oh, she’s well. She and Uncle Finn have gone off again. You know how Mother is. She decided she wanted some new horses, although I can’t imagine why. We have many you know.” She avoided the man’s unwavering look and fanned herself clumsily.
“There are several people who would like very much to talk to her. When did you see your uncle last, Octavia?”
“Not in a while, actually. He’s such a simpleton and you know how Mother has to watch him all the time. I’m sure that’s why she took him along. It certainly would not be because she wanted his help.”
The big woman grew uncomfortable with the man’s intense stare and tried to rise from the chair. The confining seat did not free her as easily as she had hoped so she settled back and began to arrange her skirt.
Timothy stood up suddenly. There was no question in his mind that Octavia was unaware of her uncle’s murder and he wrestled with the decision of informing her or letting the terrible news pass for the time being. Octavia was an ordinary, spoiled girl, he thought, without much common sense. However misguided she may be in her intentions he believed she was undoubtedly ignorant of Dianna’s activities. The news of Finn’s murder was something he decided to leave out of their conversation. He knew the girl would not take the news well and it would make it impossible to question her further.
“Octavia, do you know where you mother is now?”
“Not a clue!” she blurted out assuredly. “I have no idea.” Octavia squirmed in the chair and avoided Timothy’s questioning look.
Rebecca returned with the maid who placed a gleaming silver tray on the cocktail table, brimming with pastries and a tall china teapot.
“Ah!” Octavia’s face brightened as she wiggled forward in the chair and filled a napkin with the delicate cakes. She popped a tidbit into her mouth and rolled her eyes in appreciation.
Elgerson admired the appealing arrangement of flaky treats and sampled one himself. Octavia’s groans of delight were not exaggerated, he thought, and he nodded approvingly to Rebecca.
His fiancé smiled knowingly. She had noticed that the man had particular tastes and she was thrilled that he enjoyed her latest attempt to satisfy him. The rich, freshly whipped cream that Birget had prepared, added the perfect touch to her pastries.
Octavia looked up from the delicacies long enough to witness the pair’s private exchange and began brushing the morsels hurriedly from her crumb filled lap.
“Rebecca, I would like to speak to Timothy privately,” she announced, grasping the arms of the straining chair and pushing herself to her feet.
“I’m sure that whatever you have to say can be said with Rebecca here, Octavia.” Timothy walked to the window and gazed out at the last of the day’s flurries.
Octavia was insulted by the man’s remark and turned to face Rebecca openly.
Rebecca smiled kindly at the flustered girl and stood unfaltering, her hands clasped at her waist.
Octavia, certain that the girl did not want to hear what she had to say anyway, crossed the room to Timothy and tried to insert her hand into his arm. He lifted his arm slowly and walked away from her.
“Timothy,” she began, squaring her shoulders. “I think it is inappropriate for Rebecca to remain here any longer. It’s very improper that she stays here, without even as much as a chaperone. I’m certain that the entire territory is whispering about how reprehensible it is!”
Timothy turned and watched Rebecca from across the room as she stood modestly, her clear emerald eyes watching him closely as she lifted a fine brow questioningly.
“Reprehensible,” he repeated and nodded to her knowingly.
“And frankly,” Octavia continued, unaware of the exchange, “I feel that in light of our relationship I cannot let it happen any longer!”
“Our relationship?” Elgerson turned and faced Octavia, cocking his head to one side. “We’ve known one another for a very long time, Octavia, but I doubt that allows you to decide who I marry.”
Octavia fell back, grasping the back of the chair as she stared at Rebecca in shock.
“What?” She spun to face Timothy, her color rising and stomped to face him. “Do you have any idea who she is? She’s nothing more than a common tart. How dare you, after all these months of leading me on, allowing me to think you loved me?”
“Octavia!” Timothy’s voice was bold and uncompromising. “I will not allow you to insult my future wife. Furthermore, I never gave you any indication that we were ever anything more than friends. Tell me, Octavia, whatever gave you any idea that Rebecca was common at anything? Do you know something about her you think I should know about?” He leaned close to Octavia’s face, his own unwavering and demanding.
“I know you ordered her like a piece of equipment from a catalog!” Octavia tapped her foot arrogantly.
“Where exactly did you get that idea?” Elgerson’s jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth and faced Octavia angrily.
“From Mother, of course. But I’m sure everyone knows!” She folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips.
“I’d like to ask your m
other about that myself, Octavia. Where exactly might I find her?” Elgerson stood inches from the spoiled girl and glared at her threateningly.
Octavia burst into tears and tried to run from the room.
“Octavia, don’t you dare leave this house! Where is your mother now?” Timothy stood with his fists clenched and his bellowing voice filled the sizeable room.
Rebecca stood silently, nearly holding her breath, witnessing Octavia’s tantrum as the big woman turned and glared at her.
“Future wife?” she spat. “You’re nothing but a common whore!” Octavia turned in Timothy’s direction and glowered threateningly. “You’ll not find my mother, you fool, not if she finds both of you first!” Octavia stormed out, slamming the front door and hurrying to her carriage, Timothy behind her onto the porch steps as she sped away.
Rebecca caught her breath. Octavia’s tone and her use of words gnawed at her memory. Something in the way she said the word ‘mother’ caused her stomach to turn and brought a pain to her side.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Rebecca spoke quietly. “Let her go, Timothy.”
He stood watching Octavia’s carriage careen across the lawn.
“Damn it all!” he swore. “She knows. She probably knew it all along. Damn her. That stupid girl is liable to get herself killed. She’s probably running to her mother right now!”
“Timothy.” Rebecca led him inside and closed the big oak door.
He looked at her fair face and he could see she was pale with fear. He took her arm and led her to a chair in the study near the fire, kneeling beside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about. I swear I will never allow anything to happen to you.” He rubbed her cool hand briskly, a worried expression on his handsome face.
“Timothy,” Rebecca sighed. “Octavia was at the Hawk Bend Station.”
Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) Page 25