by Merry Farmer
“And there’s the race,” Rose reminded her. She selected a vest and put it on.
“Yes, the race.” Elaine squealed with excitement. She finished with her clothes and picked out a cap to fit over her already braided and pinned hair. “Do you think they’ll see through our ruse?”
Yes, Rose wanted to answer. But she continued dressing anyhow, her thoughts more with Mr. Bond and with Isaac than on whether they were about to face humiliation by being called out and rejected a second time.
For a moment, before Mr. Bond had interrupted, it had seemed unmistakably as though she and Isaac would be able to push aside the muddle that they’d made of things together. The prospect of starting whatever it was between them anew, with a picnic by the lake at that, had Rose’s heart soaring…just as much as her concern for Mr. Bond had it plummeting back toward the ground. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. All she could do was let Elaine lead her on.
“You look very convincing,” Jason told the two of them as they emerged from the bookshop. Rose could tell from the young man’s smirk that they were about as convincing as a monkey in a dress attending a ball.
Mr. Wall didn’t comment, but his mouth twitched as he studied Elaine.
“What do you think?” Elaine asked him, striking a pose in her trousers, jacket, and cap.
Mr. Wall’s cheeks blazed red. “I think…I think it would be best if I didn’t say what I think.”
Of all things, Rose burst into a grin. She was quick to hide it, but she’d seen enough men looking at women they liked in her life to know that, strange as it may have seemed, odd and stately Mr. Wall had stars in his eyes for Elaine.
And Elaine, of course, was completely oblivious.
“Hurry,” she said, grabbing Rose’s hand. “We need to go enter before they close the competition.”
As their small, odd group rushed back to the dock and the table where the mayor sat, Rose glanced around, searching for Isaac and Mr. Bond. She couldn’t decide which she wanted more—to see Isaac’s smiling, encouraging face again—and to see what he thought of her poor disguise—or to keep Elaine from noticing that her father had arrived and was not in the best condition. She spotted the two men halfway up the hillside where the rest of the crowd sat to watch the race. From a distance, it was hard to be sure, but she thought Mr. Bond looked far beyond exhausted. She said a quick prayer that Isaac would be able to take care of Mr. Bond.
“Here we are,” Elaine said as they arrived at the registration table. She immediately cleared her throat, adopted what she thought must be a manly pose, and said in a lower voice, “Er, here we are. We’d like to enter the regatta.”
A round of snickers and outright laughter from the men around the table followed. Mayor May looked downright stricken. Rose sent him an apologetic look. He sighed and said, “As I said before, ladies are not permitted to enter the regatta.”
“How dare you?” Elaine bluffed, a distinct squeak in her voice. “We are gentlemen from, er, London.”
“Sure you are,” one of the other racers commented with a snort.
“I’ll have you know that we are members of a distinguished club in London,” Elaine insisted, banging her fist on the table. “Our mates at, er…”
“Brooks’s,” Mr. Wall offered.
“Yes, Brooks’s Club would be appalled at the way you are treating us.”
Mayor May sighed. “Miss Bond—”
“I can vouch for these two,” Mr. Wall interrupted, stepping forward.
Elaine smiled. “Yes, Mr. Wall here can vouch for us.”
Mayor May turned a narrow-eyed look on Mr. Wall. “You can?”
Mr. Wall cleared his throat. “As a member in good standing of Brooks’s for many years myself, I can assure you that Lord, uh, Lord Peter deVere, the Earl of Dunsford—” He gestured to Elaine. “—and Mr. Alexander Croydon—” He shifted to nod to Rose. “—are friends and members of Brooks’s as well.”
Rose’s eyes popped wide. Lord Dunsford and Mr. Alexander Croydon? She knew the names well. Her friends Millie and Clara had written to her often of the houses and activities of Lord Dunsford, Millie’s employer, and Mr. Croydon, a friend of Clara’s new husband. Did Mr. Wall know both men? She took a longer, harder look at him. The sudden feeling that Mr. Wall was not who he said he was overtook her.
At least, it did until Mr. Wall caught her staring at him with a quizzical expression. His expression tightened in alarm and his face flushed. He turned slightly away from her and addressed the mayor once more. “It wouldn’t do any harm to let my friends enter the regatta,” he said quietly. “They aren’t hurting anyone.”
Mr. Wall and Mayor May spent several long seconds staring at each other. Rose could only imagine the level of communication the two determined men were engaged in. At last, Mayor May let out a sigh and threw up his hands. “Very well. They can enter.”
Elaine let out a whoop of joy in a very unmanly register. “Thank you, thank you,” she said, grasping Mr. Wall’s arm.
Mr. Wall broke into a smile of such sweetness that Rose’s chest felt tight just looking at him. But Elaine barely noticed. She whipped around, grabbing Rose’s hand, and said, “Come on. We’ve got a race to win.”
Chapter 9
Isaac was used to doing his job under pressure, but nothing in the past compared to the jumble of emotions and pulsing energy that made it hard for him to stand still as he watched both William Bond and the boat race. Bond was in dire condition. The man was a fool for pushing himself to walk all the way into town on his own. Isaac wasn’t even sure how he’d done it.
But as Bond sat, wilting, on the chair that had been brought out to the hillside for him, Isaac’s thoughts flew to Rose. The way she’d looked at him, the softness in her voice when she’d told him that the things they had done had been right, the hope she instilled in him…it was too much to ignore. He felt as though he were soaring…even as worry for Bond pulled him back down to earth.
“It’s no use in pretending you don’t care for her,” Bond wheezed, drawing Isaac’s attention away from the race preparations on the lake and to his charge. Bond was deathly pale, but his eyes still held a spark of mischief.
“I’m not pretending anything,” Isaac said, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“No?” Bond sounded weaker by the moment.
“Not anymore.” Isaac managed an anxious smile for him. Rose filled his heart, but years of medical training pushed the fact that Bond was fading in front of him to the fore. “I love her,” he confessed.
“Do you?” Bond leaned heavily on his cane, closing his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “Good, good. That girl has had far too hard a life so far. She deserves happiness from here on out.”
Hearing his thoughts spoken aloud by the admirable old man brought a lump to Isaac’s throat. “She does. And I’ll do my best to make her happy. If she’ll let me,” he added in a quieter voice.
“She will,” Bond said, shaking as he nodded. “She will.”
Isaac would have given just about anything for Bond to be well enough to sit and give him advice over a pint at The Fox and Lion. Perhaps there would still be a chance, though, sadly, he doubted it.
A flurry of activity at the lake caught his attention and caused Bond to open his eyes. Rose and Elaine had moved away from the table where Mayor May sat and were moving toward their boat. The boys from the orphanage had moved it to the water, and now helped the two women to climb inside. The enigmatic Mr. Wall stood by the side of the dock as if directing the whole endeavor. The rest of the boaters were climbing into their crafts as well and rowing toward the starting line that had been strung across the water.
“My darling Elaine certainly is determined,” Bond said with a chuckle, sounding as though he were half asleep.
“That she is,” Isaac agreed glancing from the lake to Bond and back again. “I’m glad she has Rose to temper some of her…enthusiasm.”
Bond made a noise. “My Elaine will land h
erself in deeper trouble before all is said and done. I’m glad she will have friends by her side when she does.”
Something about the comment struck Isaac wrong. With a frown, he turned to Bond. The man’s eyes were closed again, and he sagged against his cane so heavily that Isaac wasn’t sure how he was keeping himself upright.
“William, are you well?” he asked, crouching to the man’s side so that he could look directly at his face. He didn’t like what he saw.
Bond took a long time to answer. So much so that Isaac was close to reaching for him and testing his pulse before he sucked in a breath and said, “Fine, fine. Tush and nonsense.”
The assurance did nothing to alleviate Isaac’s fears. Bond’s final, typical comment didn’t seem appropriate. But Isaac was held back from doing anything by the crack of the starter’s pistol firing.
Bond perked up again, and Isaac stood to watch the race. The afternoon sunlight glittered on the water, and he had to hold a hand above his eyes to shield the glare. A dozen boats shot forward across the starting line, all manned by men with their sleeves rolled up and their muscles bulging as they pulled on their oars.
And right along with them, cutting across the water, but falling quickly behind, were Rose and Elaine. Isaac winced, tempted to laugh at the sight they made. They were no match for the weakest of the male teams, but not for lack of trying. Their movements were strained and uncoordinated, but even from the hill, Isaac could see determination in every line of their bodies. They wouldn’t give up, no matter how clear it was that they were out of their depth. And he had to admire them for that.
“Did they ever actually practice in water?” he asked Bond as some of the other spectators pointed and laughed. “Or was the entirety of their practice on grass only?”
Bond didn’t answer. Isaac continued to watch the ladies struggle. He let out a breath of relief when they finally coordinated their strokes and began to move faster across the deep blue water.
“I think they might have a chance of overtaking the last of the other competitors,” Isaac said, resting his hand on Bond’s shoulder.
As soon as he did, Bond keeled forward. He spilled to the ground with a thump that set every one of Isaac’s nerves on end. The race was forgotten as he dropped to his knees and scooped Bond into his arms.
“William, William,” he called, turning the man so that he faced the sky. “William, are you well?”
A few of the other spectators gasped and one lady yelped in alarm. They cleared back instinctually, making space for Isaac to lay Bond prone in the grass.
“William, can you hear me?” He pressed his ear to Bond’s chest, searching for a heartbeat.
Bond barely stirred. If his heart was beating, it was too weak and erratic to be heard.
The painful realization that this was the end swooped in on Isaac. There was very little he could do for his friend but stand, face the lake, and shout, “Miss Bond! Miss Bond, come quickly!” He waved his arms in the vain hope that he would catch Elaine’s attention.
The race had been a bad idea. Rose’s arms ached as she pulled the oars through the water. How was it that water was so much harder to row through than grass? The thought was ridiculous—as ridiculous as the loose trousers she wore. At least the cap shielded her eyes from the sun.
“We’ve got it,” Elaine called from the front of the boat. “I think we’ve got it.”
Rose was too focused to reply. She considered it a victory that they hadn’t sunk to the bottom of Lake Brynthwaite the moment they stepped in the boat. She wasn’t sure if Mayor May had done them a favor by letting them enter.
She pulled hard on the oars, but let herself glance up to the hillside, where most of Brynthwaite stood watching them. Her gaze went straight to the spot where she knew Isaac and Mr. Bond were watching. She’d made sure she picked them out of the crowd before climbing in the boat. Isaac must think her ridiculous for going through with the competition. He was probably up there laughing at—
But no, he was waving his arms. The hillside was close enough to the lake itself that she could see the alarm in his expression. The people standing around him had backed away from a dark shape on the ground.
The shape was Mr. Bond.
“Elaine!” Rose stopped rowing to see if her friend had noticed what was going on. Elaine wore a frown of determination as she continued to row for all she was worth. “Elaine, stop. Your father.”
“What?” Finally, Elaine’s concentration broke, and she blinked at Rose. “We’re winning.”
Rose shook her head, pointing toward the hillside. “Your father.”
Elaine gasped, her eyes going wide as she turned to the shore. Not only was Isaac still waving his arms, some of the others had joined in, calling for them to row to shore. Mr. Wall too had left the dock and run along the lakeshore, gesturing for them to come in.
“Papa!” Elaine cried, suddenly understanding what must be wrong. “We have to turn the boat around. We have to get to shore.”
Rose nodded her agreement and grabbed her oars. They hadn't practiced turning. They didn’t have any experience moving a boat across water at all. Try as they did, the boat merely wobbled and drifted. Time ticked madly away as they pulled and paddled and did whatever they could think of to get the boat pointed toward the shore.
At last, after a few distant splashes, the lithe forms of three young men with their shirts off came cutting through the water toward them. Rose had never been so happy to see the three young orphan men swim up to their boat and manually turn it toward the shore.
“Row,” Jason called to them, even as he and the others pushed the boat from behind.
There was no time for any of the young men to climb into the boat and row for them, so Rose put everything she had into getting to shore. As soon as the skiff ground against the lake’s muddy bank, she and Elaine stood. Elaine lost her balance and tumbled to the side into the shallows with a scream, but Mr. Wall was there to catch her.
Rose managed to keep her balance and was faster getting ashore. With no one to hold her back—not even skirts—and everything she loved up the hill in front of her, she tore up through the parting crowd far ahead of Elaine.
“What happened?” she gasped, out of breath, as she reached Isaac’s side. Instinctively, she threw herself into his arms, hugging him as she glanced down at Mr. Bond’s pale, lifeless form. “Is he—”
Mr. Bond’s hand fluttered. Rose let go of Isaac and dropped to her knees, grasping his hand.
“Sir, Mr. Bond, sir.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Mr. Bond squeezed her hand, though his grip was weak. His lips parted, but he seemed to be having trouble speaking. Rose leaned closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
A brief, disgruntled look pinched Mr. Bond’s face before he said in a failing voice. “Be happy, my dear.”
“No,” Rose wailed, not to disagree with him, but out of grief that his words were clearly a final benediction.
“No regrets, my dear,” he whispered. “No regrets. Be happy with him.”
Mr. Bond’s eyes were closed, but Rose had no doubt that he was telling her to be with Isaac. She squeezed Mr. Bond’s hand, lifting it to kiss his knuckles. Her tears dampened his thin, dry skin.
“Papa!” Elaine’s frantic call came up the hillside. “Papa, no!”
Rose pushed herself back, standing to give Elaine room to run to her father. Isaac caught her and closed his arms around her as Elaine threw herself on her father’s form, weeping freely despite the crowd.
“Oh, Papa,” Elaine wept. “No, it’s too soon. No.”
“There, there, my dear,” Mr. Bond managed. His words grew quieter, too quiet for Rose to hear as she stood in Isaac’s arms. Elaine leaned closer, her ear close to her father’s mouth as he spoke. Tears streamed down her face and she nodded even as she moaned with grief.
Rose had to look away. The scene was too poignant, too private for her to
be a part of. To their credit, everyone else standing by turned away to give the father and daughter their final moments together as well. All but Mr. Wall, who looked on with such haunted grief in his eyes that Rose wondered if he was seeing Elaine and the love she and her father shared or some other, deeper sorrow.
At last, Elaine burst into a louder cry of grief that left no one in any doubt that the moment had come. Rose rested her forehead against Isaac’s shoulder. She hadn’t noticed losing her cap until Isaac stroked her hair, kissing her forehead. No one spoke, but the level of understanding and communication that passed between them all, between Rose and Isaac, and Elaine and her father, and the entire town of Brynthwaite, was palpable.
Chapter 10
It broke Rose’s heart to dye all of Elaine’s beautiful dresses black, but that was what people in England did when someone so close to them died. It broke her heart to straighten and put away Mr. Bond’s things and to rearrange Ivy Cottage’s front parlor from a cheery sick room to a somber meeting place for mourners and guests as well. She’d come to think of Mr. Bond as a favorite uncle, if not a father, in such a short time. His loss left holes in her life.
But her holes weren’t nearly as big as the ones Elaine was left with.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mrs. May said in a hushed voice at the gathering after the funeral.
“Thank you,” Elaine sniffed. She sat on the sofa in the parlor, Mrs. Gayson, a distant cousin who had come up from Birmingham on her left. The space to her right was ominously empty.
Rose stood at the side of the room, keeping a careful eye on the people who had come to pay their respects, as well as fetching food and tea from the kitchen as supplies ran low. Jason, Lawrence, and Marshall, in an almost inexplicable move, considering their ages and gender, served the refreshments to guests with unusually sober faces. Rose could have kissed each one of them for the care they showed Elaine. She had high hopes for the lives the boys would end up living.
