The Perfect Rose

by Diane Greenwood

  Despite the short time before Torie would depart the estate, there was really not many preparations to be made. Packing would not take long, for she would take only what she had arrived with, leaving behind the gowns Rhionne had provided. She wanted nothing but what was her due. Her wages she had certainly earned and the reference went without saying.

  The gown from Everett, the Duke of Gaunlin, was ruined beyond repair. She could pluck the lace off and use it for refurbishing an older gown, and cut up the velvet for trimming and handkerchiefs, but that would scarce require more than a few hours to achieve. The brooch was hers for a rainy day, for who knew where future meals would be taken? Even with the advanced wages and the reference, Torie knew how undependable a post's security could be. How many times had she been hired sight unseen only to show up and be shown the door by an insecure wife?

  No, certainly the brooch would stand her in good stead or at least lend her mind a sense of security. If nothing else Torie could be proud of her sensibility at this most trying time. It was her past she credited. Her lack of family, though making it lonely going, at least made one thoroughly self-sufficient.

  Her lip crumpled at this and tears gathered. She was no longer a self-possessed woman of ability. She had thought she was beyond the green mistake of becoming attached to her employer's siblings, but she had made the blunder of thinking of Brodie and Justin as her own darlings ... How could she leave them? And Rhionne? What was he to her? She'd never been placed in this position before and it tore at her heartstrings. Maybe it was best she had not more time. This way there would be less time to think.

  There was one person to whom she owed a special good-bye ... Jacques. His attempt at defending her honor, no matter how displaced, deserved a private farewell. She wasn't sure where to find him. He wasn't in the loft and when she asked another servant, he pointed to the gardens. Surely he wasn't back at work so soon?

  But rough men heal fast and sore though he might be, Torie found Jacques pruning roses. Torie exclaimed over this, reproving him soundly.

  Jacques’ blue eyes twinkled. “You remind me of mon chere mere. And as I would tell my mother, I will tell you ... I am fine. I am just thankful his lordship does not hold a grudge. He said I was a good employee who had gotten his priorities mixed up...” As if realizing how this must sound he stammered. “Begging your pardon Cherie' ... Not that I meant you as a priority misplaced...” He could not think how to extricate himself from this entanglement of words.

  Torie laughed. It felt good. “No offense taken. I have come to bid you adieu."

  "You are to leave?” He looked sad. “Not because of me!"

  "Yes, on the morrow. But not because of you. I have only myself to blame. I got myself into this dilemma."

  "It's such a pity. I had hoped ... Not that you would marry the parson but you and ... Well, if it is naught to be, there's no sense. Where will you go?” Jacques felt helpless. He had been taught to help a lady in need but he was powerless to aid a woman of Torie's station. She was above him, but not good enough for the gentry, according to rules he could not alter.

  "I'll be all-right.” Torie spoke with more conviction than she felt. “Don't you worry about me."

  "Are you sure you can't come to an agreement with his lordship? He ain't an unreasonable bonhomme once you get to know him."

  Torie spoke bitingly. “Quite sure."

  "I believe he is taken with you Cherie'. Sometimes it is obvious to those not so close to the situation."

  "No, but you are mistaken. The only thing he is taken with is my departure."

  "No, it is not so. But it is not my place to quibble. You'll miss the infants.” He stated the fact.

  "Oh, yes!” Torie's eyes filled with tears. “I will so much it hurts to even think of leaving them all!"

  Jacques looked too closely at her.

  "I mean the boys."

  "Oui. And him."

  There was no use denying it. Torie looked bleak. “I ... Well, it doesn't matter now. You'll do all right here?"

  "Oui'. I have met a jeune fille. A maid from the house. She nursed me to health and we have an understanding. Life is good for me."

  "I'm so glad. I am sorry for your being wounded. I feel..."

  He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about, Cherie'. It was something I had to do. But it is over and now we move on to other things."

  "Well then, I guess this is farewell."

  "Oui'. I will never forget such beauty. It is not for a man the likes of me, but there are those too much a fool to see a perfect rose blooming in their very own garden."

  Torie smiled. “Thank you for your friendship. Godspeed!"

  "And you faire la belle!"

  With sadness Torie took her leave.

  * * * *

  Torie took the afternoon to tidy up her things. She did not go down but took an early dinner in her room. She planned on spending as much of the evening with the boys as possible. She wanted it to be a happy night to see her through the days ahead, but she knew the boys would be glum at best.

  So it was with a shock that Justin ran through her door without even a perfunctory knock just as she was taking lace off the despoiled red velvet. Torie spoke without looking up. “Brodie, we must talk of your manners!” Then she remembered her time to tutor was limited and reprimanding the boys was not her intention for the evening. But it was Justin's voice, uncommonly high pitched that caught her abrupt attention.

  "Torie, Brodie's missing!"

  Torie dropped the clinging material. “What, how can it be? You were both to spend the day with your father! When did you last see him?"

  Justin drew breath. “After nuncheon. I went back to Father in the library. He says I am old enough and is teaching me the estate books."

  Justin spoke proudly and Torie impatiently reached for him. “Justin, please!"

  "Oh, yes. Well ... Brodie said he was going to find you."

  "He never did!” Torie tried not to sound panicked.

  "Oh, but we ... that is me and Father thought he ate dinner with you, so we didn't look for him at the table. But when the maid came in to clear the dishes, Father told her to summon Brodie from your room so he could have a talk about your leaving. Brodie was taking it so hard Father was worried. Anyway, the maid said she served your supper up here and Brodie was not present. Father had the house and grounds searched and he is not to be found!"

  "Oh, no!” Torie remembered Brodie's vow. “He has run away!"

  "That's what Father says. He has ordered horses saddled and all able servants are to join the search. He has already ridden out."

  "Why did you not come to me sooner!” Torie wailed.

  "We thought he was playing a game. Hiding in the maze or in the attics. But it is not so. He is gone!"

  Torie scrambled for her cloak, throwing it over the somber, brown gown she still wore. “I am going to join the search!"

  "I'll accompany you.” Justin drew himself up, thinking it his duty.

  "No, you must stay here in case by some chance Brodie shows up or is found by one of the servants. He might be scared and a familiar face will calm him."

  "But Torie..."

  "Please Justin. Do as I say. It would do no good if your father comes back to find you gone, too!"

  Justin accepted this as the truth it was.

  Torie ran down the stairs, pausing outside the stables to draw breath. It would scarce be wise to order a mount. She was not an experienced enough rider to be effective and it would hardly be prudent to get herself into another escapade by taking a horse out on her own. By the same token the dogcart would be useless, as Brodie, young though he was, knew the futility of running away by following the frequently traveled roadway. Nay, it was on foot that Torie would be able to take to the fields and climb stiles that Brodie would be able to agilely scramble over.

  With little thought to direction Torie set off, making as much of a straight line as she could. If Brodie had left soon after nuncheon he'd have
certainly had time to leave the estates of Lairdscroft behind, even accounting for his short legs.

  But he was young and would tire. There was hope he hadn't gone too far. Maybe when he grew tired he would turn back. More likely, given the stubborn streak inherited from his father, he would stop for rest and perhaps fall asleep. If he woke and it was dark would he be frightened? Torie could well imagine a child's terror to awake in complete darkness and not know where you were, or which way to go.

  If he made it to the moors, there were other dangers to compound. Mud bogs and fog was constant. Even now Torie could see swirls ahead, even though there was still some daylight in evidence. And there was the night chill. The mild evenings became dank and cold in the wilds. Had Brodie even bothered with a coat? Torie's thoughts made her quicken her footsteps and call vigorously. “Brodie! Brodie!"

  Only silence greeted her. She walked on, ignoring the dusk that was fading fast. A flock of tiny sparrows flew from the last grove of trees to be had before the rolling bleakness of the moors began. Her cloak caught on a dense copse of thorn trees, old and knotted. With little patience she pulled the material to free it. In its original state the cloak would have come loose without a quibble. But it was worn thin in places and quite frail. Torie heard the material give and tear. The sound was as a scream in the still evening making Torie shiver. A pheasant flew up at her feet. She shrieked and nearly jumped out of her skin!

  The bracken was just beginning to take hold for the season and the fells ahead were treacherous even for those that were familiar with the lay of the land. This certainly was not Torie and she was about to turn around, hoping Brodie had not ventured in this direction, when a fragment of cloth caught her eye. Much as her cloak had caught on the thorn tree, so had a handkerchief, perhaps sloppily tucked into a pocket, as a boy might do.

  Torie dared hope against hope as she smoothed the white square of linen. It was relatively clean which meant it was a recent loss. The boys went through so many of these small cloths, losing some, staining some with grime beyond repair, that their initials were no longer monogrammed on them. Torie vowed when Brodie was found she would rectify this and personally embroider initials on every kerchief in the house! She remembered she would scarcely have time before her departure but that did not signify at a time like this.

  The finding of the handkerchief heartened Torie and quickened her pace. She renewed her efforts, calling Brodie's name so loud over and over she became hoarse with the effort. The fells rolled, some great, some small humps, but they made seeing ahead difficult, no matter their height. Like a curtain, night fell. One moment Torie was walking in shadows and the next she could not see ten feet in front of her. Like a wave, fog swept in. Long fingered tendrils curled at her feet till she could no longer see even the tops of her walking boots.

  The moon was a late bloomer that time of month and Torie had no way to mark her progress. She began ripping the kerchief in strips and hanging these on bracken. It would not do for her to become lost and missing as well.

  Torie could imagine Rhionne's face at this news. Would he bother to search? Doubtful. But now she couldn't condemn the man for the action. He must be worried sick over his youngest. Torie knew despite the sometimes distracted attention he paid to the boys, he doted on them. And Torie had noticed a marked difference in Rhionne's efforts to spend time with his sons. And that, Torie liked to think; she had just a bit to do with. She could take this comfort with her when she left.

  The fog was throwing Torie's voice back at her and it was coming out little more than a squeak. She decided to save what was left. She heard a faint rustle in the bracken ahead. Torie craned her head to listen. Only a mouse. She stumbled and the cause was obvious. Nature had been momentarily confused on whether it was a mountain or a fell she was creating and therefore compromised on a steep hill. Torie could not see the top for the fog, but there had to be one, she reasoned; and gamely climbed. When she reached the top she almost rolled down the other side. There was no flat to the top, only a peak and a descent. She stopped to draw breath.

  "Is someone there?” A feeble voice came from somewhere below.

  Brodie? Is that you?” Torie could not contain her excitement.

  "Yes. Who's there?"

  "It's me, Torie! I'm coming down."

  "Torie, you sound strange. Be careful, it's very steep. I should know. I fell from the top."

  Torie was in the process of scrambling down. “Are you hurt?"

  "I think so. My arm aches terribly and I can't move it."

  "Oh, Brodie. Don't move!” Torie reached him in a matter of moments. In her excited fear she half scooted, half rolled down the hill. She couldn't help but grab Brodie and hold him to her. “Thank God, I found you!"

  Brodie let out a yelp of pain. Torie let him go. She couldn't see a blasted thing about his injury, but she could feel the iciness of his skin. “Darling, you are frozen!” She unfastened her torn cloak and wrapped it about him as tight as she could without further hurting him. “Why? Oh, why did you run away, Brodie?"

  Brodie began to sniffle and Torie reached out to touch his cheek. It was already wet and she knew he'd been crying before she'd arrived. “It’ s all-right, my brave little man. I'm not mad at you. Only, why did you come this way? It is very dangerous!"

  "Cau ... Cause if I went to the village they would know me and return me home. I was going to Chesterfield.” Brodie tried a poor attempt at bravado.

  "Chesterfield is twenty miles distant!” Torie forgot Brodie was just a little boy with unattainable goals.

  "Only by road. If you travel as the crow flies, like I was going to do, it's half that. Except I fell and now ... now it hurts horribly."

  Torie rested his head against her shoulder. “Somehow, I've got to get you home. Are you warm enough now?"

  "Yes, but it hurts."

  "I know it does, but you have to be very brave. Can you walk?"

  "Yes!” He spoke with childish resolve.

  Torie helped him to his feet. He whimpered with the effort but there was no help for it. They could not wait out the night on the chill moors. It was slow progress up the steep hill and when they reached the other side Brodie could go no further. “Just a little further, my love."

  "I can't Torie. I can't. I want Father!” He began to wail. “Please Torie, bring Father! I hurt!"

  Torie began crying herself. She picked Brodie up as carefully as she could and carried him, praying she would not stumble. Brodie's cries turned to a combination of whimpers and sniffles. Then he was silent. Torie's arms hurt like the devil, but she dare not put down her bundle to rest, or even shift it for fear of waking the little boy up. It was best he sleep through as much of this as possible. She did not know how far she walked. It was only by resolving to put one foot in front of the other that she made any progress at all. Brodie was a sturdy child and her arms felt every pound.

  A patch of fog cleared, showing the shadow of a fell looming. Torie tried to summon enough strength to climb but it was all gone. She had to lay Brodie down. She could go no further! She wanted to scream in frustration as she bent to unload her bundle. Brodie began to whimper. Torie bit her lip and reassigned Brodie's weight. She had to go on!

  The shadow before her moved and shifted. It was no fell, but a horse and rider picking it's way carefully. The rider was walking, staring at the ground, following tracks, Torie realized. “Thank God!” Torie's voice was a whisper. “Help us, please!” The rider separated itself from the horse and ran forward. “Rhionne!” Torie gasped.

  The cloaked form let out an improper oath and reached to take Brodie from her. Torie winced as her arms shot pins through her body at being relieved of their burden. “Be careful. He is injured. His arm, he says."

  Torie stumbled against Rhionne. He had no trouble maintaining his balance and his burden while briefly gathering Torie to him. “Good Gad girl, you are frozen!” He looked down at his son snugly wrapped in Torie's cloak. “Take my cape.” Torie opened her mouth
to protest but no sound came out. “Do as I say!"

  Torie did as she was ordered. Brodie chose this opportune moment to say something in his sleep and opened his eyes. “Father!” He smiled and immediately fell back asleep.

  Rhionne led the way to his horse. Carefully he placed Brodie on the front of the saddle, holding him steady with one arm. “Get on!” He ordered Torie, offering her his other hand to help her mount behind Brodie.

  But here Torie balked. She had to clamp her teeth to keep them from chattering and her voice was a mere croak. “Please, take Brodie on ahead. You can make better time and he needs immediate attention. You can send someone back for me!"

  "Nonsense, you'd never last the night. Now get on. We're wasting time."

  Torie realized the sensibility behind both requests. She felt a strange euphoria that could not be a healthy symptom. When she was seated, holding Brodie in front of her, his lordship led the horse and with a stride that ate up the turf beneath his feet, he started the journey home.

  Torie had to ask and she wasn't sure he could hear her raspy question. “How did you find us?"

  His voice came back, “There was a piece of your cloak on a bush and then the white strips were easy to spot. Now, save your strength. You must be worn out."

  The words were not uttered unkindly and Torie retreated into the folds of his cape. It's lining was fur and redolent of spicy snuff and a mixture that Torie recognized as Rhionne's own natural fragrance and earthy outdoors. She found the scent comforting and closed her eyes. She must have dozed. She was not sure. Torie had the impression they stopped on cobbles for she could hear the clip-clop of the horse's hooves striking stone ... Then there were servants running from all directions.

  Rhionne reached up to take Brodie, but Torie unable to turn loose of her precious burden, held fast. “It's all right. I've got him now,” his voice soothed. But her fingers were made of stone and he had to warm them by cupping them within his own, then gently prying them from around Brodie.