by Sandra Heath
The three ladies alighted to take a little stroll while he made certain of the horse. The tree-cooled air was fresh and pleasing, with the overtone of earth, leaves, and wildflowers that always pervaded woodland. Birdsong rang through the glades as Lady Letitia and Corinna debated fashion, in particular the new rage for wearing colored skirts held up with straps over a white bodice. Lady Letitia did not like it at all, but Corinna thought it a delightful mode that she hoped to be allowed to wear.
Anthea took off her bonnet and swung it idly by the ribbons as her attention wandered to the scenery around her. There were nuthatches darting up and down tree trunks in search of beech nuts and early autumn crocuses raising their pale mauve heads in the shade. Among the first fallen leaves, she noticed lovely but deadly fly agaric toadstools, with their red caps and scattering of white specks like pieces of crushed sugar loaf. Sylvan shadows dappled the ground, and from time to time she was sure she glimpsed fallow deer moving deeper into the trees.
A green woodpecker gave its laughing call somewhere overheard, and it was all so timeless and everlasting that had a Norman king ridden toward her with his hunting retinue, she might not have been entirely surprised. She fell behind the others, just savoring nature’s beauty, then paused to watch a scarlet, black-spotted ladybird beetle on a sun-warmed ivy leaf. As if fearing her attention, it suddenly flew off with a faintly whirring sound that made her smile. She watched it skim away between the low-hanging branches of an oak tree and then gasped as she saw Jovian walking toward her.
Chapter Fifteen
The speckled sunlight shone on Jovian’s fair hair because he wasn’t wearing a hat, and he had flung his coat over his left shoulder so that his white shirt was bright amid the luxuriant green foliage. He paused and gave her one of those lazy smiles that filled her with feelings she knew a proper young lady should conquer. “We meet again, Anthea,” he said softly.
“What... what are you doing here?”
“Taking a stroll through the woods, which is presumably what you are doing.”
He came over to her and stood so close that she could have put loving fingers to his face. The almost irresistible desire to touch him made her self-conscious. “Er ... Longton thinks one of the horses may be lame,” she said, “and we are just taking a little walk while he makes sure the animal is well enough to proceed.”
“The horse is not lame, Anthea. I just needed to halt your progress.”
“Yet another of your many talents?”
He smiled a little. “One of the many talents I still endeavor to cling to.”
Anthea wasn’t sure if he was sober or not, for although his voice was clear enough, there was something about his eyes that almost made him seem to be looking right through her.
He read her mind. “No, my darling, I am not drunk, nor do I intend to be again.”
“Would that I could believe that.”
“Why have you ignored my warnings, Anthea? Why are you still en route for Gloucestershire?”
“You know why. Corinna’s aunt lives there, and—”
“Corinna has no aunt.”
Anthea’s lips parted. “Yes, she does! I’ve seen her several times, Corinna has spoken to her, and Aunt Letty has received a letter from her. Her name is Miss Abigail Wheatley.”
He gave a short laugh. “Well, I suppose the name is particularly suitable.”
“Meaning?” Anthea prompted.
“Work it out for yourself, my lady. An abigail is a servant, and a wheat lea is a wheat meadow. She is a servant of the wheat meadow, and her duties will be performed when the blue moon is full and the harvest rites are carried out.”
“What?” Anthea stared at him, then gave an incredulous laugh. “Oh, come now, isn’t that a little far-fetched even for you?”
“It is the truth. Damn it all, Anthea, I cannot believe that after all my warnings you are being idiotic enough to proceed with this cursed visit.”
She looked away. “I tried to dissuade Aunt Letty and Corinna, but I bungled the whole thing and only succeeded in making them angry with me. They made it clear they would continue without me, which I could hardly allow to happen. So here we all are.”
“En route for what? This nonexistent Miss Wheatley?”
She was angered. “How can you possibly say that when you yourself recommended her?”
“I did no such thing.” He was taken aback.
“Oh, yes, you did. I may not like Sir Erebus Lethe or trust him one inch, but I have no reason to think he lied about speaking to you on our behalf. You told him Miss Wheatley was respectable, and that the landlord of the Cross Foxes is an excellent and reliable person who will see us safely to her home.”
Jovian took her by the shoulders. “Lethe did lie, Anthea. He had to in order to ensure that you—and especially Corinna—would go to Cathness. Miss Wheatley may not be fact, but I know Obed Dennis of the Cross Foxes certainly is. I know him for a scheming villain of the first water, and Lethe’s supporter to boot. However, I would no more recommend the Cross Foxes than I would fly to the—” He broke off.
"To the moon?” she finished for him. “Well, that brings us to another aspect entirely, doesn’t it?”
“No, Anthea, for it is all the same circle.” He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly. “Look, I don’t want to quarrel with you, nor do I want to frighten you, but I am desperate to protect you.”
“But you will not tell me what I am to be protected from. Sir Erebus? Well, it seems you have already done that with the lavender.”
“Nothing is absolute, Anthea, and while the lavender will safeguard you from much, there remain things against which it is powerless.”
“Things?”
“Don’t ask me more, I beg of you, for it really is better you do not know.” He brushed a curl from her forehead. “Forgive me these riddles, but I swear I will give you the answers if it becomes imperative.”
“And when will that be? When we reach Cathness?”
“I fear so,” he replied quietly. “Lethe will be there, but so will I.”
“And I will see you?” A glad light sprang to her eyes, for with him she could be strong.
“Of course you will,” he breathed. “You are precious to me, my darling, for you are my beloved, the queen to my king, my soul’s other half, and I will be your shield until I breathe my last.”
The sweet words of love brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes. “Oh, Jovian ...” she whispered.
Emotion darkened his eyes, and he opened his arms to her. “Come to me,” he bade softly.
She obeyed gladly, and he enclosed her with a fierce embrace, holding her so close that her body molded to his. Her arms slid around his waist, and she savored his lean warmth and the hint of costmary that always clung to his clothes. As she lifted her parted lips to meet his, she had no thought of being seen by Aunt Letty or Corinna.
At last he drew back and looked into her eyes. “You are my redemption, Anthea. Were it not for you, I might not have had the will to fight Lethe’s ancient evil.”
“Is it the real Jovian I have redeemed? The Jovian of this moment, not the one who sees and feels everything through a cruel blur of strong drink.”
“I have always been the Jovian of this moment, but—believe me, please—intoxication was forced upon me to prevent rebellion against the cycle.” Seeing the questions in her eyes, he pressed a finger to her lips. “I have already said more than enough. Would to God you had been able to call off this journey, for then the whole primitive business could not have taken place.”
A stir of thunder sounded in the distance, again without any trace of cloud on the horizon. He glanced behind him. “It is known I am here. I do not have much time now, so hear me well. Do not shrink from trying again to make the others return to London. They may not be pleased with you, but believe me when I say it is worth that risk. The best thing all around will be for you all to go home to Berkeley Square, but if that cannot be, then you must not l
et Corinna out of your sight. Do you understand? Stay with her at all times.”
Another roll of thunder sounded, much closer this time, and Anthea glanced instinctively at the sky, but of course it was blue and clear. She lowered her gaze to Jovian again, but he was no longer there, and as she looked all around she was just in time to glimpse the hare bounding away between the trees.
Then Corinna’s voice sounded from the road. “Anthea? Where on earth are you? We must drive on if we are to reach Cathness by tonight!”
“I’m coming. I must have wandered further than I realized!”
“Do hurry!”
Anthea returned to the carriage, preparing herself to do as Jovian advised, but she knew that this time it would be more difficult than ever to broach the subject of going back to the capital. She believed Jovian when he said Corinna in particular was in danger. It did not matter that he had refused to explain anything, or that what he did say seemed more conundrum than common sense, because in recent days her faith in him had been reestablished. The Jovian with whom she had fallen in love was with her again, and to him she would gladly entrust her life.
The carriage set off again, more briskly now because, to Longton’s mystification, the apparently lame horse seemed miraculously restored. Anthea did not know how to say the necessary words, for when she looked at Corinna’s excited face and remembered how Aunt Letty had overcome her own difficulties to proceed with this visit, her own foolish objections seemed immaterial. Nevertheless, if Jovian said she had to try, then try she would.
Lady Letitia noticed her preoccupation. “Is something bothering you, my dear?”
“Not exactly ...”
“Which means there is something wrong,” Lady Letitia declared. “Well, out with it.”
Corinna looked at her too. “Yes, Anthea, please tell us.”
“I...”
“Yes?” Lady Letitia waited attentively.
There was nothing for it but to plunge in. “I am still bothered about going to this Miss Wheatley.”
Corinna stared in disbelief, and Lady Letitia tutted very crossly indeed. “This really is too bad of you, Anthea!”
“I can’t help it, Aunt Letty. I just have a terrible feeling of foreboding. Please abandon the journey and let us return to London.”
Corinna burst into tears. “Oh, I think you are more than horrid, Anthea!” she sobbed.
Lady Letitia thought the same. “This is monstrous, Anthea, and I will not tolerate another word. You had the opportunity to stay behind, yet chose to accompany us, so if you imagine I am about to give credence to your vague talk of foreboding, you may think again!”
“But, Aunt Letty—”
“Enough!”
Anthea flinched and did not say any more. A heavy silence fell, and she resigned herself to being sent to Coventry again as the carriage drove out of Savernake into the town of Marlborough. She felt like screaming at her aunt that Corinna would be in peril if they went to Cathness, but how could she say that without also admitting that she did not know what the danger really was? It had something to do with Sir Erebus Lethe, something to do with harvest rites, and something to do with a cycle, but she could not sensibly explain anything.
No one said anything as the carriage left Marlborough and Wiltshire to enter Gloucestershire, and the atmosphere was oppressive by the time they reached the quaintly named town of Chipping Sodbury. It was usually a busy place, but today being Sunday, it was virtually deserted as Lady Letitia’s equipage moved slowly up the wide, sloping main street.
Suddenly there came from behind the sound of a swift but light vehicle; then a furious Longton had to haul his team swiftly to one side as a smart yellow phaeton overtook them at breakneck speed. Drawn by dark high-stepping horses, it was tooled with reckless verve by a gentleman in a blue coat. His top hat was fixed firmly over his forehead for fear of losing it in his rush, and he skimmed the phaeton dangerously close to the carriage, a frowned-upon maneuver known as feather-edging.
Longton was so livid he stood up to brandish a fist and bellow shocking abuse after the gentleman, who glanced briefly back. Corinna had lowered the window glass to see what was happening. “Oh, no, it’s Sir Erebus!” she cried.
Anthea was conscious of a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Jovian had warned her that Sir Erebus would be in Cathness, but even so this sudden confirmation of the fact was a disagreeable shock.
Lady Letitia was dismayed. “Oh, dear, I would much prefer him to be in London. However, if he drives in that reprehensible fashion, he’ll be at Wycke Hall before we reach Cathness, and with luck our paths will not cross again.”
“With even better luck his driving will overturn him into a deep, particularly disgusting duck pond,” Anthea observed, forgetting she was in Coventry.
“That is not charitable, my dear,” Lady Letitia chided, then gave a mischievous smile. “A duck pond would be just the thing, though.”
Corinna’s was not a vindictive nature, and she too smiled at Anthea’s remark. The ice was suddenly broken, and Anthea found herself back in the body of the kirk, as a Scottish friend of Aunt Letty’s had been wont to say.
Sir Erebus may have driven on, but he had clearly recognized the carriage, and he was waiting beneath an oak tree at a fork in the road. He hailed Longton, whose inclination was to drive on past the hated yellow phaeton and its owner, but the coachman now recognized Sir Erebus as having been a guest at Daneway House, so he knew he must seek Lady Letitia’s wishes. He halted the carriage well short of the oak and climbed down to approach the lowered window.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but Sir Erebus Lethe awaits just ahead. Do you wish to acknowledge him, or should I drive by?”
Lady Letitia was about to say they should drive by, when it occurred to her that here was a chance to tell Sir Erebus exactly what she thought of him. “I will speak to him, Longton.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
The coachman returned to his seat, and as the carriage moved on once more, Anthea and Corinna exchanged appalled glances. Lady Letitia saw. “Don’t misunderstand, my dears, for I intend to singe the scoundrel’s ears!”
The carriage halted again at the fork, and Sir Erebus stepped forward to open the door. “Good afternoon, ladies. How very pleasant it is to encounter you.”
No one answered. Anthea noticed that he had one hand behind his back, and she was a little curious, but then she fixed her gaze to the floor. Corinna looked briefly at him, her expression one of very mixed emotions. She could not remain indifferent to him, in spite of his conduct toward Anthea. Something inside her seemed to yearn for him, and she could not help herself.
Yet, at the same time she despised him. It was all very confusing, and she wished things could have been different. If only he were a true gentleman, and if only his admiration had fallen upon her instead of Anthea, then this could have been a happy moment; instead it was disagreeable and embarrassing, and she wished the carriage would drive on.
Seconds of embarrassing silence passed, but as Lady Letitia bristled and prepared to give him a piece of her mind, they all heard chanting in a field on the other side of the road, where a circle of reapers stood on the stubble around the last stand of wheat.
“Make the earth abundant, give us fruits, and ears of wheat, and a goodly harvest, O Demeter.... Make the earth abundant, give us fruits, and ears of wheat, and a goodly harvest, O Demeter....”
As it was repeated over and over, Anthea’s brows drew together. “Demeter? But she is a Greek goddess.”
Lady Letitia nodded. “Yes, with supposed dominion over harvests. I must say I had no idea the country folk of England regarded her as a deity.”
Sir Erebus spoke. “Demeter is worshipped everywhere at this time of year, Lady Letitia, as you will discover when you reach Cathness.”
Lady Letitia gave him an icy look. “Do not attempt to worm yourself back into favor, sirrah, for it will not wash. How dare you presume to greet us on the king�
��s highway as if nothing had happened! You are without conscience or honor, and I do not intend to have anything more to do with you.”
He seemed totally bewildered. “I don’t understand in what way I have offended, Lady Letitia.”
“Don’t attempt to pull the wool over these eyes, sir. You do know, and it ill becomes you to pretend otherwise. To call you a gentleman would be a great untruth; to call you a scoundrel would be accurate in the extreme.”
Sir Erebus let her speak, then smiled ingenuously. “If I am guilty in your eyes, Lady Letitia, please allow me to apologize.” He took his hand from behind his back and held out a little posy of honeysuckle picked from a nearby hedge.
Anthea saw that it wasn’t honeysuckle at all, but mistletoe, and knew she had to prevent her aunt from accepting it. Leaning forward quickly, she snatched the posy from him and tossed it away. Her reward was a look of fury that momentarily flashed in his dark eyes.
Lady Letitia, who would not have accepted the honeysuckle anyway, looked at her in astonishment. “Whatever is the matter, my dear?”
“Forgive me, Aunt Letty, it’s just that... that I saw a large wasp, maybe even a hornet, on one of the flowers.”
Anthea could almost feel Sir Erebus’s malevolence fixing upon her, but then he conjured a cool smile. “How very observant to see a wasp that wasn’t there, Lady Anthea.”
This was too much for Lady Letitia, and she swung her reticule and clouted him soundly on the side of the head. “Stand away from the carriage this very instant!” she commanded, ready to set about him again if he didn’t obey. She had a strong arm and accurate aim, so he moved hastily back, and Lady Letitia immediately instructed Longton to drive on, then slammed the door.
The carriage jolted forward once more, and Lady Letitia almost snorted with displeasure. “What an unmitigated monster! What a disgrace to his rank!”
“Indeed so, Aunt Letty,” Anthea answered, wishing she knew exactly how much of a monster Sir Erebus really was, but unless or until Jovian divulged the whole truth, no one would know.
