by Merry Farmer
It hit Rose in that moment that, as cozy and quaint as Ivy Cottage was, it was a cage of sorts. Mr. Bond was trapped by his age and infirmity, Elaine was trapped by her love for her father, and Rose was trapped by the past that still had a hold on her. Well, not all of them had to remain trapped forever.
“So what did you do at the regatta you mentioned to win your wife’s family over?” she asked, taking a seat on the footstool beside Mr. Bond’s chair. Her chores and preparations for dinner could wait.
Mr. Bond brightened, lifting his head with a smile. “I won the race, of course.”
“He did.” Elaine suddenly became cheerful as well and stood from the window seat to join them. “And it was an heroic effort.”
“It was,” Mr. Bond agreed with a nod. “Percival Dartforth was well known to be unbeatable. It took every ounce of strength and determination I had to beat him in that last stretch, but I did, I did.”
“Of course you did, Papa.” Elaine knelt by his side, holding his hand while Rose held the other. “Love won the day. Love will always win the day.” She sent a sisterly look of mischief Rose’s way.
Rose was about to find yet another excuse for why it was too late for love to happen for her when Elaine gasped, her whole body going rigid, and her eyes blazing with inspiration. “We’ll enter the race,” she said, face shining.
“What?” Mr. Bond blinked.
“The boat race Mr. Wall told us about,” Elaine went on. “Rose and I will enter the two-man boat category.”
“Me and you?” Rose let go of Mr. Bond’s hand and leaned back.
“Yes, of course.” Elaine clasped her father’s hand harder. “It will be just like it was when Papa won Mama’s hand.” She paused. “Only it will be the two of us, competing for Papa’s honor.”
“I’ve never rowed a boat in my life,” Rose said. The prospect was nearly as daunting as having supper with a man she wanted more than she should. Elaine certainly did have a way of landing her in scrapes.
“It’s easy.” Elaine waved away her concerns with a brush of her hand. “Anyone can row a boat. We’ll go out on the lake tomorrow and I’ll show you.”
“I’m sure the old skiff we have in the shed out back is still ship-shape and water tight,” Mr. Bond said, as carried away as his daughter. The pair did have a way of latching on to wild ideas without thinking things through.
Rose stood, ostensibly to go back to her duties, but also to put some distance between herself and the wide-eyed dreamers. “Are you sure they’ll let women into the competition?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Elaine admitted. I’ve never seen women compete in anything in Brynthwaite before. But I don’t see why not.” She too stood, but more to pace off the sudden burst of energy that had clearly hit her. “We could wear those new bloomers, like women in America wear.”
Rose let out an ironic laugh. “Only a few radical women of my mother’s time actually wore those.”
“They would be very handy for rowing, though,” Elaine said, thoughtfully tapping her chin. “I’m sure we could construct a few pairs before the race next week. I’m sure there is extra fabric upstairs for—” Her wandering gaze fell on Rose’s green dress, still draped over the back of the sofa. “Oh! What am I thinking about with regattas and such. Your dinner is only a few hours away. We have so much preparation still to go.”
Just like that, Rose and her predicament with Isaac was back at the center of discussion. Elaine rushed to scoop up the dress, then grabbed Rose’s arm and dragged her from the parlor to the hall, and upstairs to the small room Rose had been given as her own. As soon as the door was shut, Elaine set to work fussing and picking and making it harder for Rose to change out of her work clothes and into the dress than it would have been to change on her own.
“You’re going to be a picture of grace and beauty tonight,” Elaine said as she helped Rose slip the green dress over her head. “Dr. Newsome is going to fall instantly in love with you, the two of you will marry, have a large parcel of children, and live happily ever after.”
Under the folds of fabric, Rose let out an ironic laugh. There had been an instant look of something in Isaac’s eyes when they’d first met—and every time since then—but it wasn’t the sort of love Elaine knew anything about.
“Let’s just take one thing at a time,” she said as she emerged out the top of the dress.
“That’s never any fun,” Elaine said, straightening Rose’s skirt atop her petticoat.
“Maybe not, but it’s practical.”
“Tush and nonsense,” Elaine said in imitation of her father. Or perhaps she was beginning to adopt his phrases and mannerisms. “Who wants practicality?”
Rose arched a brow as she stared at her tense face in the room’s small mirror. “Practicality can keep you alive,” she said quietly. Or so she’d told herself the first time she’d parted her legs on her own terms for a man with cash in his hands.
“Yes, but it makes a rather bleak existence.” Elaine was as quiet as she was.
Rose shifted to look at her in the mirror and was unsurprised to find her friend’s face lined with sadness. She scolded herself for not being more careful in voicing her opinions. Elaine had her own sorrows. It was Rose’s job to lighten her load, not add to the burden. Maybe if Elaine understood more of where she’d come from, in every sense of the word, she would see the reason for her feelings on the matter.
“There.” Elaine straightened as she finished buttoning the back of Rose’s dress and stepped around to get a good look at her. Her smile returned. “I don’t care what you say, Dr. Newsome’s poor heart doesn’t stand a chance.”
“It’s just supper.” Rose tried one last attempt to downplay the situation. She knew herself well enough to know she’d like much more than just supper. “I’m sure by the dessert course he’ll have decided I’m nowhere near refined enough to spare any more thought over.”
Elaine shook her head. “And I’m sure that he’ll be wondering where he put his mother’s wedding ring by the time you finish your soup.”
“What if his mother’s wedding ring is on the finger of his poor wife in her grave?” Rose countered, moving to the small table by the mirror and raising her hands to take her hair down from the plaited knot at the back of her head.
“Ew. What a morbid thought,” Elaine said, screwing up her face. A moment later she shook her head and stepped over to help Rose with her hair. “He’ll be thinking where he can buy you a new ring, then.”
Rose let out a breath and looked at her friend in the mirror. Elaine wasn’t going to let go of her romantic notion. Not unless Rose played dirty and brought up her past. But if she did say something about her time at Bonnie’s, would she lose Elaine’s friendship?
Then again, she’d already stepped far, far over the boundaries that should have existed between servant and mistress. The point of starting over in England was not to lift herself above herself. It was to serve good people who needed her, and to provide her with security in the next phase of her life. Nothing more.
As soon as Rose’s hair was down, Elaine picked up her hairbrush. “You have such beautiful, thick hair, and in such a magnificent shade, like sunlight.”
“Thank you,” Rose replied, squirming under the praise and watching Elaine draw the brush through her tresses. Elaine shouldn’t be treating her like a sister, just as Mr. Bond shouldn’t talk to her like a daughter. Things would be so much less complicated if she’d stuck to the job she’d come to do.
“Dr. Newsome will—”
“It wouldn’t be right for anything to happen between me and Dr. Newsome.” Rose cut Elaine off with a sudden burst of impatience.
“But it would be so perfect, so romantic,” Elaine argued, letting her arms and the hairbrush drop.
Rose turned to face her, wincing. “I know you want to see some sort of fairy tale happen to me, but I’m just a regular servant in the castle, not Cinderella.”
“Fairy tales can happen to any
one,” Elaine insisted, more hopeful than certain.
Rose was certain that hope was for Elaine herself, hope that she wouldn’t spend her entire life isolated and lonely in the service of her ailing father, but that didn’t stop her from saying, “Not in this case.” Elaine opened her mouth to protest again, but Rose stopped her by placing a hand on her arm. “Dr. Newsome deserves better than to become entangled with a former prostitute.”
“But no one is asking him to do anything as low as—” Elaine stopped, mouth open, eyes going wide, as the truth hit her. She took a step back, pulling away from Rose’s touch, and raising her free hand to her mouth.
Rose lowered her eyes. “It’s true. I worked as a common whore in a brothel in Wyoming. And yes, I was given a chance to leave that life behind and start completely from scratch over here, but that doesn’t change who I was or what I did.” And it didn’t change the heated things she felt when she looked at Isaac or dreamed about him at night.
Elaine remained silent for longer than Rose had ever known her to be. Her eyes stayed round, but her initial shock began to melt into thought. “Do you mean…do you mean that you lay with men for money?”
Rose hesitated, clasping her hands in front of her and staring at them. It would probably be cruel to spell out in detail to a young woman as innocent as Elaine that whoring involved far more than simply lying down, opening her legs, and closing her eyes while a man did what he wanted to her. “Yes,” she answered.
“How many men?”
As soon as she asked, Elaine’s cheeks went pink, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Rose blushed as well, but answered, “I honestly couldn’t tell you. I didn’t keep track.” That was a gentler answer than “hundreds”.
“But why?” Elaine’s brow knit into a frown.
Rose shrugged. “Because I was alone and abandoned, hundreds of miles from a family that had disowned me, already ruined by a false husband who not only beat me, but who turned out to be legally married to someone else.”
Silence fell again as Elaine took everything in. “So…so you had no other choice?”
Rose shook her head. “Now you see why I could never entertain any sort of romantic attachment to Dr. Newsome.”
“But…you do fancy him…don’t you?” Elaine asked slowly.
A tiny smirk pulled at the corner of Rose’s mouth. Her ploy to get Elaine to drop her fantasies was failing. “In far more ways than I should.”
“Oh.” Elaine blinked rapidly, and Rose had to give the woman credit for understanding fully what she’d meant. The young woman was innocent, but apparently she wasn’t ignorant. She stared for a few more seconds, her expression becoming more intense, then burst out with, “I still don’t see why any of that should preclude you from forming an attachment with Dr. Newsome.”
It was Rose’s turn to be surprised. She blinked a few times before managing to say, “You don’t think the fact that I’m a soiled dove means I shouldn’t entertain ideas about a respected man in town.”
Elaine shook her head. “Why should it? Dr. Newsome has been married before. And as a physician, I doubt he’s ignorant of the female form.”
Rose’s shoulders dropped slightly, and she stared at her friend with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “Not very many people think the way you do.”
“Well, they should. You came to England for a second chance, didn’t you?” Elaine’s energy grew more intense with each word she spoke, each thought that Rose could see zipping through her eyes. “You came to start over with a clean slate.”
“Yes, but that second chance involves taking care of you and your father,” Rose said. “You should be my first priority.”
Elaine waved away her statement, taking a step toward her. “I can take care of myself, and Papa….” She drifted off and swallowed, then squared her shoulders. “I have to believe that you are entitled to a romantic tryst if you want one.”
“I’m not so sure I am,” Rose confessed.
“But I’m sure,” Elaine said, more firmly. “Everyone is entitled to love.”
“I don’t think I—”
“Everyone is entitled to a chance at happiness, a chance for a better life.” The intensity of the heartbreak and longing that flashed to Elaine’s eyes stopped Rose’s protest short. “Everyone.”
She was talking about herself. Elaine’s hopes and wishes for her own happiness hung like starbursts in the air, bright and powerful, but too prone to fading away into nothing. Suddenly, Rose understood. She understood how a woman who had been raised in a proper, modest home by a loving father could forgive a woman who had debased herself for money. They were as opposite as two people could be, but if Rose was able to find love against all odds, Elaine must feel as though it could happen for her too.
The sudden understanding brought tears to Rose’s eyes. Abandoning propriety, she threw her arms around Elaine and hugged her close, like a sister. “You’re right,” she said, closing her eyes and wanting to believe it was true. “And I’m sure Dr. Newsome and I will have a wonderful time tonight.”
And if there was any justice in the universe, Elaine would have her chance to be happy too.
Chapter 4
The summer sun was still relatively high in the sky as Isaac paced the end of the sidewalk where Brynthwaite officially ended and the surrounding countryside began. He cleared his throat, adjusted his collar, and pulled the pocket watch from his waistcoat to check the time. Ten past six.
He tucked the watch back into its pocket, brushed a hand across his hair, and shifted a few steps to the right. He knew he should have insisted Rose let him fetch her from Ivy Cottage instead of meeting him in town. Walking her to supper would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. Picking her up in his wagon would have been even better, but his gelding, Lancelot, had been under the weather lately. And unfortunately, his medical knowledge didn’t extend to veterinary care.
Or the female heart, it would seem. Even though Rose had accepted his invitation, he was at a loss as to whether she actually wanted to dine with him or not. A voice in the back of his head continued to tell him she had been cornered into accepting…just as he had had his arm twisted into asking her. If she truly didn’t want to spend time with him, if the spark in her eyes had been something other than attraction, who was he to force her to—
His thoughts and his heart stopped as the swish of a sea-green skirt caught his eye. Rose rounded the bend, emerging from a stand of trees. She wore a simple, fashionable hat and carried a reticule, but the detail that Isaac noticed most was that her cheeks were pink, and when she glanced his way, her eyes lit up.
Every worry about whether Rose wanted to dine with him vanished, and he pushed himself into action, marching to meet her. He knew the look of a woman who wanted to spend time with a man. But while part of him thought that should put him at ease, in fact, it doubled his nerves. What would she expect from him? And what if he couldn’t deliver?
“Good evening.” Rose came to a stop as Isaac came near, lowering her head with a fetching—if nervous—smile.
“You look lovely,” Isaac blurted. He instantly cursed himself for sounding like a green fool. To make up for it, he offered his arm like a gentleman. “Did you have a pleasant walk from Ivy Cottage?”
“Yes, thank you.” Rose sent him a quick, sideways smile. She was nervous. Isaac debated whether he should find that as charming as he did. “You look nice yourself,” she added in a rush.
“I suppose with a little effort, anyone can clean up.”
She let out the slightest, softest laugh. Another brief glance, and her eyes trained on the path in front of them as they walked into town, toward The Fox and The Lion Pub. The fleeting look gripped Isaac as though she’d stared directly at him without breaking eye-contact. There was something about Rose, something buried deep. In spite of all the evidence in front of him and everything he knew about her from their brief, prior encounters, he was struck by the sense that she was holding herself back, willingly or un
willingly. And in spite of every caution he tried to impose on himself, he wanted to know more, to peel back her layers.
“I hope you don’t mind dining at the pub,” he said as they reached the intersection near the center of town. He looked carefully in all directions before escorting Rose across the potentially dangerous street. “Jack, the owner, that is, has assured me that we’ll be able to have a relatively private table.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Rose said with a smile. “I don’t need anything fancy or special.”
On the contrary, Isaac thought, he was convinced Rose needed quite a few special things. He was certain she was a special woman. One he didn’t deserve. And yet…
“The food is good.” He dropped her arm so that he could hold the pub door open for her. “Simple English fare, but delicious all the same.”
“I like English food,” Rose said, stepping into the pub’s dim interior. Her comment was ordinary, but the way she sucked in a breath and looked around the inside of the pub was unusual. She pressed her hands to her stomach, her eyes suddenly full of emotion. If he didn’t know better, he would say they were full of memory, as if she were returning to a place she knew too well.
Her reaction fascinated him. He could have stood there attempting to read her like a book of legends all evening, but Jack called to him from behind the bar. “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if your lady friend had changed her mind.”
Jack laughed. A pair of men sitting at a table close to the bar laughed with him. Rose blushed and lost her smile. The reaction tied Isaac’s stomach in knots. Had she considered changing her mind?
He was spared that painful thought as Jack came out from behind the bar. “I saved a table for you in the quiet room.”
Rose blinked, coming out of her thoughts and into the present. “The quiet room?”
Jack led them on, under a low beam and up several stairs to an odd-shaped room at the back of the pub. “This room back here is traditionally used for nobs passing through or businessmen who don’t want anyone else nosing in on their dealings,” he explained, tapping the side of his nose and winking.
