Verbena’s heart had pounded, the only sound her ears heard. She did not know what to do, or if she wanted to do anything but savor this slice of time when Damon Thern looked at her and saw her. But then her mother’s voice had seemed to come out of nowhere. You will take these loaves to the neighboring farms. Was the voice a divine nudge, saving her from herself?
It had been insistent, that quiet echo of her mind, pulling her away from her foolish daydreams, dreams of a girl poised on the edge of womanhood. The mundane world came back, the birds chattered in annoyance at being interrupted. She had reached for the basket, and after a brief delay he let go. He gestured at her hands. “You should wash those off as soon as possible. I have heard that is the best way to avoid infection. Perhaps you should go back to your house and take care of your scrapes first?” His eyes were still gentle. “I would be happy to escort you.”
“Thank you, no,” she said, but she had not backed away. “You have been most kind, but I must get these to the other farms.”
“But you will wash your hands thoroughly and get all the dirt off?” His face went soft with worry when usually it was imposing, all sharp edges, a strong face to go with his strong body.
So she had promised, and then she had gathered all her courage and asked a question that had flown around the village for weeks. “Is it true that you will be putting more fences up?”
Damon said nothing for a moment, his face suddenly shaded. All the softness of a moment ago was gone. A muscle flexed in his jaw. She could still feel the slight chill that had washed over her. He was a Thern. Everyone knew the fences were going up at their instigation. In a burst of unexpected courage, she had said, “Because of all these fences, farmers and hunters around the village have been threatened with arrest for going into lands they have used for centuries.”
“You are slightly misinformed.” His voice had turned as stiff as his posture. “We have nothing to do with the decision to fence the land. It is a government order, and everywhere you go, everyone is doing the same thing. It has been going on for years and I fear there will be no stopping it.”
She said nothing, just absorbed his words. This was happening everywhere?
He sighed. “As long as you have heard this much, and since you are clearly curious, I should tell you I have heard Parliament is working on still more Enclosure Acts. The fences are expensive for everyone. One hopes they will tire of passing these laws soon.” Damon said it with finality, and she knew their conversation had come to an end.
“What about your cloth?” Verbena had looked down at her bandaged hand, the best she could gesture while clutching the basket. A design in blue in the white fabric had caught her eye, letters she could not make out then.
“Keep it. I have so many, I won’t even miss it.” He was probably even telling the truth. Why would he want it anyway, now that it was bloodstained and dirty?
Funny she had not thought of that handkerchief in years, but now, standing in that small glen, she remembered exactly where it was. She had washed it as clean as she could, and saved it, thinking some day she might be able to give it back, have one more chance to talk to him, to see if they could recapture those moments past when they stood, however briefly, on level ground. She could hardly have used it, not with the embroidered initials, the blue DT that had caught her eye. The day had never come when she could talk to him, remind him, and return it, but she had kept it.
That had almost been the end of the memory. There had only been a moment left together, when Damon touched a finger to the brim of his hat, gave a graceful bow, mounted, and turned the horse, trotting down the path where he soon vanished behind the thick curtain of green. He must have kept her trespassing secret because no one ever came to order her to stay off the wood path.
How prophetic he had been. By the time the Enclosure Acts had hit the Barnes and their small bit of land, land that had housed a cow, a pig and several sheep, and they found out the fees for the fences that they were forced to erect, her mother had been dead, her father had begun his drinking bouts, and money had been far too scarce. The Therns had closed off the last of the common lands, cutting everyone, including them, from the grazing areas the entire village had enjoyed as far back as anyone’s tales went. Not just grazing disappeared, so did the calves and kids and piglets that arrived regularly from the neighbors’ animals that shared the once-open fields.
Her family still had a tiny bit of land left that had not yet had to be sold to pay for the fence, enough for a small garden and some chickens, and they had the house, but for how long?
Verbena did not know why that one moment of her life had stuck with her. She must have been all of fifteen then, seven years ago, and he was already a grown man. He must be over thirty now.
Her breath was back now, the stitch was gone. That memory was such a silly thing and there was no more excuse to linger. She started running again but her recollections kept her pounding feet company, only those and the startled rustle of bird’s wings.
She had been so lost in her thoughts that when the track curved around the last stand of trees, she was startled to find she was already there. Thernwood stood before her in all its immense glory, magnificent even before the sun was fully up, dark brick, white window frames, and pillars marching like white statues, muted in the dark. Verbena grabbed a trunk to stop herself from bursting into the manicured lawn that surrounded the whole house. She saw the drive ahead leading to broad entrance, then curving toward the stables, pale worn double lines left by carriage wheels. She did not know where the gazebo was, but it could not be that hard to find.
Verbena stayed in the trees, following their shield as she circled behind the house, wondering how Edeline would see her. She’d never been so close to the mansion before. One did not come uninvited.
Although Edeline’s letter classified as an invitation of sorts. From the furtive way her sister had summoned her, Verbena suspected the Therns would not see it the same way.
The windows on the lower level were covered, drapes drawn tight in an odd summer defense against the cool air, as were most of the windows on the next floor. One of the curtains on the main floor twitched, a tiny gap opening between the panels, leaking a swath of light. Verbena backed further into the trees.
She slipped between the trunks, looking for the Thern’s gazebo. It would have been most helpful if Edeline had sketched a map. A rush of color to her left, a jolt in the fading greyness of dawn’s arrival, scared her, and she jumped, tripping over a root and falling against a tree.
It was Edeline, fully dressed, running toward her. Her soft brown hair had been pulled up on her head, but it was coming loose, pins no doubt raining onto the lawn. Verbena saw a curl slip loose and tumble down to her sister’s shoulder, but Edeline did not seem to notice, instead pointed frantically in a muddled direction, her arm a pale wave flapping back and forth, and kept running, her gown wrapping around her legs and impeding her progress. Verbena kept pace, staying within the trees’ scant protection.
When they got out of sight of the house, Edeline stopped, wrapping an arm around a trunk for support and gulping for air. Verbena eased through the trees and joined her.
Edeline put a hand to her chest, her deep breaths pushing against it. Her words came rapidly, but still hushed. “Come quickly, before someone sees us!” Her blue eyes were wide and glazed. “We have to hurry. Someone might have heard me slip out.” Her face had lines that had never been there before, and her skin was pale and grey. She grabbed Verbena’s arm and pulled her along through the edge of the trees. She was shaking, her hand almost vibrating on Verbena’s arm.
Verbena glanced at the mansion appearing and disappearing through the stand of trees as she followed her sister. “What is it? Why did you send the note?”
“Not here,” Edeline whispered in a rush. “The gazebo. No one will see us there.” She led the way around the sheds tucked behind the mansion, another layer of protection keeping them shielded from the house. Rosebushes
past their first blooming tried to snag their gowns.
The gazebo appeared, nestled in the center of a man-made glade where the rosebushes had been trained over an arched opening of ornate metal. Small trees surrounded the many-sided little white building, and flowers circled its base in splotches of fluffy light colors, giving only hints of their true hues. Glass panes were covered with ivy working its way up the sides and over the top, a heavy tracery of dark leaves layered one upon another, lifting with the breeze. It must be beautiful in the daytime.
Verbena looked back at the path they had taken. She never would have had the courage to venture this far into the Thern’s property, she never would have found the gazebo on her own. Thank goodness Edeline had seen her from the upper window.
If that watcher was Edeline. She had come out rather quickly for having been on the second floor.
Edeline slid the latch and waved Verbena inside. Sheltered by the trees and the vines, even in the dusky half-light the gazebo felt like a place apart. The white stone walls and floor gave an eerie glow, amplifying the coming day.
Flowers scented the room, blending like a delicate perfume. Roses, wallflower, sweet peas, violets and lavender, all delicate in the early morning, made their presence known from the other side of the white walls. It was a room for lovers, for good news and restful moments, not for the dread that filled it now.
Edeline dropped down on one of the fancy white wooden benches that lined the wall, and sighed, her face a pale moon. “We’re safe. At least for a little while.” Something thrummed through her voice, a tension barely held in check.
Verbena glanced out the door, but nothing changed, nothing moved. They were hidden for the moment. She turned back to her sister. “Edeline, what is going on? Why are you so frightened? Tell me, what is it?”
Just that quickly, Edeline buried her face in and burst into tears, loud, noisy sobs breaking through the need for quiet, as if some inner anguish could no longer be contained. “Oh, Verbena! Andrew is dead . . . and I am pregnant.”
CHAPTER 2
Verbena gasped. All her irritation at her sister evaporated like dew. “Oh, no! Oh, Edeline, I am so sorry,” she said, feeling the emptiness of her words. She hurried over to the bench and sank down beside her sister, pulling Edeline against herself and holding her just like she did the younger children. Sorry. What a pitiful thing to say. “What happened? How?”
Edeline looked at Verbena with streaming eyes, the tears making glowing silver tracks down her cheeks. Words poured out. “He was my heart, my only protection, and he is gone. I’m all alone. He has been sick off and on for weeks, months, that is why we came out to the country, and I hoped, I prayed, he would get better, but I knew it was bad, I knew it was so very bad.” Her sobs echoed in the gazebo, so loudly that Verbena did not dare trust the glass windows to hold the sound in, not even with the layer of ivy.
“Hush, oh, Edeline, you must hush. Someone will surely hear you.” She tightened her arms and wished for the right words. “When did it happen?”
“This night. An hour ago.”
Verbena held her gasp. An hour. “What can I do? Tell me.”
Edeline lifted her head and Verbena could see the anger in her eyes beneath the sadness. “You think . . . my life is charmed . . . don’t you?” The sentence was broken by the shudders that shook her as she tried to control herself. “If you only knew . . . what my life has been like! If I had known. If only I had known before! I am a prisoner. I feared the butler would catch Agnes, early though it is, and tell Madame Thern. They would not give me another maid and she was all I had, the only way I could get word to you.” Her hands clenched on Verbena’s arms.
“A butler can’t outrank you.”
Edeline took a gasping breath, and Verbena let her go. “You think not? I assure you, it is true. It has been horrible! My life is a misery! They hate me, they always have. I was never good enough for their son. I should not say this, I should never speak so, but Andrew did not see. They were too clever for him. He always saw the good in people. I tried to I tell him what they were doing, but he would not believe me. I know they wanted him to send me off.” Her face softened with some memory. “He never understood their hints, never heard their insults. All I had was that he was my husband and they could not change that. With him gone, I am lost!”
Verbena was very afraid her sister might just be right about Andrew. She knew which one she would trust with the immense wealth and property the Therns had to protect. Andrew was the dreamer, Damon the doer. In Andrew’s hands, the land might very well fall into disrepair while he sat in his study and read his books, or spent money finding rare tomes to add to his collection. She had seen him several times over the years reading books by the river, a dreamy expression on his face, as if there was no one else in the world but himself.
“I have to leave quickly,” Edeline said, the words tumbling over each other. “I have to find someplace safe, someplace they would never think to look. They can’t know yet, I have been so careful, but the minute they find out they will take my baby away! He is the heir. They will never let me raise him.”
“Surely not!” Verbena gasped. “You are the mother. They have no right!”
“Oh, Verbena. You have no idea. It was bad enough in the early days, there was Father’s land and Mother’s graciousness and charm. The house was in better shape then, so we Barnes were at least respectable. When the Enclosure Acts were passed and they put up the fence around their land and Father had to sell off land to pay for our own fences, and I heard that you had to sell the animals” – her words came out faster and faster – “Oh, the laughter. I heard them talking when they did not know I was around.”
Frantic fingers clutched at Verbena’s arms. “Never, ever think that you can cross the lines of class, Verbena. It is not possible. We have our place and they have theirs. I was a fool to think that Andrew’s love would protect me.” Sobs shook her slender frame again. “Even the servants were treated better than me, at least they knew their place. They never listened to me, never once, and no one insisted they do so. Why would they listen to me? I’m one of them, masquerading as the mistress of the house. Orders come from someone superior. They mocked me on a daily basis. I could give the cook the dinner menu, and something else entirely showed up on the table.” She hiccupped but the words kept coming. “I could never prove that Madame Thern was behind it, but she was, I know she was!”
Edeline wiped a hand across her face, spreading her tears across cheeks blotched with weeping. “They are all grieving inside the house, not because Andrew is dead, but because it is not me lying there cold! I must stay for the funeral, I do – did love Andrew despite everything, but the very minute I can get away, I’m leaving, and do not think you can talk me out of it. They will not even bother to look for me – as long as they do not find out about the baby.” She gripped Verbena’s arms so tight Verbena knew it would leave bruises. “No matter what, they must never know about the baby. I can’t let him be raised by them.”
Despite Edeline’s grief, irritation poked at Verbena. “You forget something. Like you said, this child is the heir. Can you not see what that means? All that Andrew has – had goes to it. That changes everything. You are safe now. You are its mother.”
“Have you heard nothing I said? If I can’t hire my own maid, what about hiring a nanny? Do you think they would ask my opinion? They would hire whoever they wanted.” Edeline’s tears dried. She took another swipe at her cheeks to wipe the lingering trails of wetness off. “I don’t care what he has, or what he will inherit. You do not know these people. You do not know this society. You either belong or you do not, and we – you, me, all of us, do not. We are a laughingstock to them. These people do nothing but gossip, dance all night and go to the theater. I could tolerate it if that was the worst, but it is not.”
She shook her head as if trying to block an image in her mind. “I have seen people in the richest of clothes shoo away little beggar children in ra
gs. I have seen people fall down on the street of hunger and all the well-dressed people of the ton just walk around them. Their only reaction is to complain that the riff-raff are allowed out among respectable people. Not just the Therns, although they have done the same. Everyone acts like this. It is just the way things are done.”
Edeline’s hands clutched at her bodice as if to pull it off. “My modiste can’t come to the front door to deliver my gowns. When you go to dinner, you are not allowed to look at the footmen who wait on you. And woe betide you if you stop to visit with a maid! I watch them and I know they would treat Julius that way, and Matthew.” Her voice trembled again. “And you, and the girls. I want my child to be kind, I want him to be a man respected by his neighbors, and not because of what he has. I can’t let him become one of them.”
Verbena had seen some of this on the occasions when the Therns came into town. She had seen them ignore the townspeople at church, but she had never thought of Julius or Matthew being treated like that. Damon had talked to her on the path. There had been no distance until she mentioned those hated Enclosure Acts. Perhaps he had not thought of her as of another, lesser class. Her mother’s insistence on her dressing her best might have spared her from being a victim of snobbery.
Somehow, though, such behavior did not quite fit the man. But what did she know, after just one brief conversation?
She had to try one more time to get her sister to think. She knew, if Edeline had forgotten, just how hard life was without money, and just what her sister was throwing away. “You can teach him better.” Edeline seemed to assume this child would be a boy, and Verbena found herself following her sister’s example. “Perhaps that is your purpose, to make him better than the class to which he belongs.”
Fortune's Flower Page 2
