Mr. Alleway, upon reading the letter from Donald, had fallen into a deep contemplation which his children hardly dared to break. From the look on his face, Bonnie thought perhaps he was afraid . . .
Afraid to believe that Donald’s words were true.
“He doesn’t have much information,” Calum persisted. He took up the letter from where it lay on a nearby table, scanning its contents again by the dim light of the fire. “Did you even know this uncle who died and left us this fortune?”
“I knew his name.” Mr. Alleway broke an oat cake in half and watched it crumble into his pottage bowl but never once took a bite. “He’s a great-uncle, my grandmother’s brother. I never would have thought I’d be his last living relative.”
“It sounds as though he named you quite specifically in his will,” Sorcha said, her voice tight and tense with unexpressed longing. Though earlier that day she had been as frugal and sharp as any crofter lass in the Highlands, now her eyes danced with the memory of fine gowns, fine cutlery, fine balls. Bonnie, sitting quietly beside her older sister, glanced at her uneasily. Such a longing could only turn to bitterness if disappointed!
“It should pay off the rest of our debts if it proves true,” Calum said, frowning over Donald’s letter.
“I should think it would do a great deal more than that,” their father answered, his voice scarcely more than a whisper.
“Oh!” Maisie leaned back in her stool to rest against the cottage wall and sighed suddenly. “It would be nice to have a real house again!”
Bonnie remained silent. For the past five years their lives had been simple and constant. Aside from the occasional letter from Donald, the outside world had gone on without them. Her family had adjusted to the world as it now was and rarely spoke of their previous wealth, never with such longing.
It cut Bonnie to the quick. Over the years she had grown accustomed to life here in the crofter’s cottage and had even, for the most part, blocked out the guilt she’d harbored over her own role in their financial undoing. Had she been a fool to believe her family could be happy here? Were they all secretly longing for their old lives as they went about their daily tasks?
Had they truly forgiven her? And more importantly, had she truly forgiven herself?
“I must travel to Burntisland at once,” Mr. Alleway said. “I must speak to Donald and my solicitor and find out the truth of the matter. If enough is left over to clear my debts entirely and possibly to reinvest . . .” He shook his head quickly as though afraid to walk that road. “Meanwhile,” he continued, smiling around the fire at his children, though the smile was drawn with anxiety and hope mingled, “there should be enough money set aside to bring you all a little something back from the city. What would you like, Maisie?”
Maisie considered a moment then shrugged. “A new bonnet, Da. A wide-brimmed straw bonnet with silk flowers and a ribbon. I know it’s impractical for our life here, but I’d wear it to service every Sunday, and otherwise I’ll hang it up on the wall and just look at it each day!”
The family laughed at her choice, but no one mocked her. Mr. Alleway addressed his son. “You’ll want a book, I know that,” he said with a smile. “And you, Sorcha?”
“Shoes,” Sorcha answered at once. “And I do not mean anything with lace or silk or little wooden heels! No, no. I want a stout pair of boots that will bring me through the winter. There will be time enough for . . . if . . .”
She could not bring herself to finish, and Bonnie once again felt her heart sinking as she realized how desperately her family wanted this promise of a new fortune to be true. Of course she had been a fool to think they were content with these reduced circumstances, living under a roof of turf, surrounded by mud and wattle walls! Oh yes, she was a fool . . .
“And you, Bonnie lass? You’re awfully quiet,” Calum said suddenly, turning his smile to her. The left corner of his mouth did not lift when he smiled, the dead flesh simply twisting grotesquely. He did not seem to notice or remember his ugliness, however, and his good eye twinkled. “What do you want Da to bring you?”
Bonnie tried to think of something she might request, but her spirits were too heavy. At last she said the first thing that came to mind. “I miss the roses we used to have.” She surprised herself when she spoke. Why, she had scarcely thought of the roses in their garden in Burntisland in years! Or perhaps it wasn’t those roses springing to her memory at all. Perhaps it was one yellow rose shining bright though surrounded by falling snow.
Her family watched her expectantly, so she hurried on. “I wouldn’t mind a cutting or two to plant outside the door. I don’t know if it would survive the winter, but . . .”
“Is that truly all, me bairn?” her father asked, slipping into his thick brogue, which, even after their move to the Highlands, Bonnie rarely heard him use.
She nodded, trying to smile. “That is all, Da.”
Calum set aside his half-eaten pottage and stretched his legs out to one side, avoiding the fire. “Will you be setting out tomorrow, Da? Shall I run over to our cousin’s and ask about borrowing a horse?”
“Aye. I think that’d be best. Take the money from the sheep sale today and offer to pay him for loan of a horse and gear.”
Calum hopped up at once, fetched his father’s pouch, and set out into the deepening evening. Maisie began to clear away their meal, and Sorcha reached out to grab their father’s hand. “We’ll wake with you in the morning,” she said, giving his fingers a squeeze. “Give you a proper send-off.”
Bonnie said nothing but stared into the fire. Why had she asked for such a foolish gift? She knew roses would not bloom in this soil, would not thrive in this harsh weather. And why did she see yellow blossoms blooming in the twisting flames before her eyes?
She dreaded her father’s going more than she could explain, even to herself.
The weeks after her father left passed in excruciating slowness. Bonnie felt restless and apprehensive. The summer lengthened into autumn, and soon it was too cold for her even to walk out into the heathery hills for privacy, as was her practice. She performed her duties in the cottage yard, her fingers blistered and lips chapped with frost, then quickly hastened back into the stifling warmth of the cottage.
She and her siblings rarely spoke of Da, as though somehow to speculate on the success of his trip would be to call down ill-fortune. They tended the sheep, harvested the meager offerings of their garden, and smoked the meat of small game Calum snared, storing up for the long winter. And they waited.
“We cannot expect him for another month, I think,” Sorcha said suddenly one evening as they sat huddled close to the peat fire. Their father had been gone for over a month already. Bonnie knew that she turned her eyes to the road more often than she should, searching for some sign of Mr. Alleway’s tall figure on his borrowed horse. “Once he arrived in Burntisland, he’d have much work to do, so many meetings and processes and suchlike,” Sorcha continued. “And then it’s a long road home again.”
“The ground frosted last night,” Maisie said softly, leaning her shoulder against Bonnie’s for warmth. “If Da doesn’t return soon, will he winter in Burntisland?”
“Don’t believe it,” Calum replied. “He’ll come home to us as soon as he can.”
But Bonnie, thinking of the heavy snowfalls of the last few winters, hoped Calum was wrong. She did not like to think of their father traveling through snowstorms to reach them, whether or not his journey to Burntisland was a success. She hoped he would be safe and warm, perhaps staying with Donald. “If he’s not coming himself, he’d have sent a message, don’t you think?” she said, avoiding the eyes of her siblings.
“Of course,” Sorcha agreed. “But even if he did, we can’t expect to receive it for another few weeks. So don’t fret yourself, my dears!”
Sorcha could boss and command all she liked. But Bonnie, wrapped in her shawl, leaning against Maisie, could do nothing but worry.
Two weeks later, as a light snow fell
, Bonnie followed in Calum’s footprints out to the shed with his shaggy dog frisking beside them. Evening fell, and they must feed the sheep and make certain the shed was secure before the night grew dark. Ordinarily, Mr. Alleway would have assisted Calum in this work, but in his absence Bonnie had taken over the task.
Once the sheep were fed and comfortable, she ducked through the shed’s low doorway and stood in the yard, blowing on her rag-wrapped hands to keep them warm, waiting for her brother. The snow now swirled around her, and she knew it would turn into a real storm before the night ended. The first real snowstorm of the winter. They may need to dig a path from the cottage to the shed in the morning.
Her thoughts trailed away, and she stared through the falling snow, her brow knitting in a frown. Was that a horse she saw coming up the road? And was that figure clinging to the horse’s back, shoulders slumped against the cold . . . was that . . . ?
“Da!” she cried and ran from the yard, through the gate, out into the road. She caught the horse’s bridle first, then reached up to grasp her father’s hand. “Da, it’s you!”
And indeed those were his eyes gazing down at her between the brim of his low-pulled hat and the wrappings of his scarf. But were those tears she saw forming in his eyes, spilling out upon his frozen cheeks?
Before she had time to wonder at this, Calum joined her. He had scarcely reached the horse’s side when Mr. Alleway fell from his saddle, collapsing into his son’s strong arms. Bonnie’s joy turned to alarm. “Da!”
“Get the horse, put it in the shed,” Calum commanded and began to half-carry, half-lead their father through the snow up to the cottage door, shouting for Sorcha and Maisie all the way.
Bonnie obeyed, her fingers trembling with fear as well as cold as she removed the horse’s tack, rubbed it down hastily, and made certain it was made properly comfortable among the sheep. Only then did she race back to the cottage, her feet kicking up snow.
Her father lay upon a pallet by the fire. She had never before seen him so ill, so gray in the face, not even when their misfortunes had befallen them. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks pasty. He seemed unable to speak, and any time Calum or Sorcha tried to ask him anything, he shook his head despairingly.
“His coat is wet. Help me, Maisie,” Sorcha said, taking charge and motioning to her sister. The two girls assisted their father out of his coat, and something fell from inside it.
Bonnie, still standing just inside the door, stared at that which lay upon the floor: a single yellow rose.
Mr. Alleway sat up on the pallet and reached out to pluck the rose from the ground. Though it must have been crushed inside his coat throughout the journey, as he held it up it seemed to blossom anew in the light of the peat fire, unfurling glorious sunny petals.
Bonnie could not move. She could scarcely breathe.
“For you, my Bonnie wee lass,” Mr. Alleway said, holding out the rose to her. Even as he spoke, his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell into a faint. The rose landed once more upon the ground and was nearly trampled as Sorcha and Maisie hurried to tend to their father. But Bonnie, moving as one in a dream, knelt on the dirt floor and picked it up, holding it with fear and trembling as she might have held a snake. For she knew it at once, more clearly than she would know her own face in a glass.
It was the rose from her dream.
Chapter 6
THEIR FATHER SLEPT straight through the night and most of the morning. Bonnie remained at his side, watching his haggard face and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She did not look at the rose, which Sorcha had plucked from her hands at some point the evening before and placed in a chipped cup on the table.
By mid-morning Mr. Alleway opened his eyes. His first words, before he had even sat up, were “Where is Bonnie?”
Bonnie immediately leaned over him, taking hold of his hand. “I’m here, Da. What is it?”
“The rose,” he whispered. “Let me see the rose.”
Though she hated to go near it, Bonnie fetched the broken cup and held it so that Mr. Alleway could see the blossom. “Da,” she whispered, kneeling in the dirt beside him, “it is beautiful, but . . . I don’t understand. How did you come by it?”
“It is the rose of a wulver, my lass,” her father replied. “Such a small, lovely thing. But how much it has cost me!”
Darkness like unto that she had experienced on her first night in this wild country, when she gazed upon that distant forest, washed over Bonnie. She drew away from her father.
Sorcha, however, overhearing, came to kneel on his other side. “Nonsense!” she scolded, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re delirious, I think. A wulver, indeed!”
But Bonnie, seeing the look in her father’s eye, could not take her sister’s view. She got up and backed away from the bed, still holding the cup and the rose in her hands.
Calum and Maisie, realizing their father was awake, drew near, and Maisie offered him oat bannock, which he refused. “What happened, Da?” Calum pressed him, his voice gentle but urgent at the same time. “What happened in Burntisland? What brings you back to us now?”
Slowly, haltingly, the merchant began his tale. “When I went to the city,” he said, “my uncle’s clerk had arrived. Donald and I went to see him, but when we got there . . .” He coughed, the sound painful to hear, and it was some moments before he could continue. “My uncle had made a shambles of his business. There was nothing left.”
Sorcha and Maisie exchanged glances. Maisie quickly bowed her head and a few moments later wiped away a single tear. But Calum shook his head and spoke firmly. “It’s all right, Da. We knew it was only a hope. You need not worry yourself so cruelly! We will get by as we always have—”
But Mr. Alleway cut him off. “That’s not all!” He coughed again, and Sorcha rushed to pour him a cup of water. He drank, and it seemed to give him strength.
“On the way back home,” he continued, “I got caught in a storm. I couldn’t see through the wind and snow. I lost the road to Inverness and found myself in the midst of a deep wood. I discovered a path, however, and my wanderings led me near an old castle.”
Bonnie drew still further back into the shadows. She felt as though she could almost, though not quite, predict what her father would say next. And she knew she could envision the very castle he described.
Mr. Alleway told his tale, his audience listening in a rapt silence.
“It was old and run down, but not ruinous, and I saw a light in one of the upper windows, beyond the wall. The gate was open, so I passed inside and knocked at the entrance door. No one answered, but the door was unlocked, so I stepped inside out of the snow.
“It was unlike anything I’d seen before! Beautiful, and kept as though for royalty. Nothing like the outside, not at all. Candles lit the passage before me, illuminating a richness of furnishing and moldings and beautifully woven carpets that might have been new! And yet it all gave me a strange sense of oldness.
“I called out, but no one answered. So I stumbled on until I came to a room, a great dining hall with a table spread as though for a feast, and an enormous fireplace with a fire built up like blacksmith’s furnace. The warmth was welcome and the food as well! I ate and I stretched out before the fire, resting my head on my own coat. How long I slept I do not know, but when I woke, I found that the table had been cleared and replaced with new food. Someone had come and gone while I slept.
“I searched for my host again and found no one. By this time I felt uneasy. I wanted to leave, to hasten my way home to my dear children. So I took up my coat, ate hastily of the new food—which had been so kindly presented, so surely it must be all right for me to eat it?—and sought my way out.
“But as I stepped out into the courtyard, something most unexpected caught my eye: a garden, tucked almost out of sight. And a rosebush bright with summer blooms and green leaves despite the snow all around! I stared at it, wonderstruck. You may laugh and say it is an old man’s rav
ing, but it seemed to me as though the snowflakes melted as they touched the bush.
“I—I don’t know why I did it. It seems so foolish to me now. Oh, forgive me, my dear ones! Forgive me! But as I looked upon that rose, I thought of my Bonnie and her request. I thought of all of you, and the gifts I had promised and been unable to bring. But this gift . . . this rose for my youngest child . . . and the bush bore such plentiful blossoms, would anyone miss a single bloom? I took hold of a stem, on the end of which bloomed the most beautiful of all the roses, and I twisted it until it broke.
“And that is when I met the owner of the castle. The wulver.
“I see by your faces that you do not believe me. I scarcely believed it myself. But there was no mistaking that which stood before me. Before I saw him I heard his voice howling with a noise that rattled the windowpanes. And then he appeared on the other side of the rosebush, clothed and upright like a man, but with the head and body of a wolf! I thought I might die of fright, but I did not know true fear until he spoke.
“‘I have offered ye nothing but kindness and hospitality,’ said he in a terrible snarling voice. ‘And ye repay me by stealing that which is of most value to me?’
“I tried to apologize. I tried to say that I only wanted a present for my daughter, that I meant no harm. He asked me to explain, and I found myself telling all . . . telling of our misfortunes and our lives here in the wild north. I told of all my brave children, who have made the most of their loss, who have grown strong and hearty enough to make any father proud. I told of my wee Bonnie, my lovely youngest though now a woman grown, and her desire for a rosebush to brighten our lives.”
“Oh, I can hardly bear it! For that beast told me that if it was my daughter who wished for the rose, it was my daughter who would pay.”
Mr. Alleway’s words hung in the stifling air of the cottage as though suspended on darkness. Bonnie, her heart racing, felt suddenly lightheaded, though she could not yet fully comprehend what her father had said.
Five Enchanted Roses: A Collection of Beauty and the Beast Stories Page 34
