Lavender Blue

by Sandra Heath

  The steward paused watchfully, having heard from Cynthia about the declined tea. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

  “Sebbriz.”

  “I trust you slept well?”

  “Excellently, thank you. I believe Sir Erebus will be calling soon?” She was all eagerness as she gazed innocently into his uncannily canine eyes.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “I trust I will be informed the very moment he arrives?”

  He gave a faint smile, “Of course, my lady.”

  She smiled as if the reassurance made her very happy, then she glanced down the staircase. “My maid told me Lady Letitia is in the library ... ?”

  “Yes, my lady. It is the door on the left at the foot of the stairs.”

  She inclined her head and continued down the steps, conscious of his gaze following her. He was still there when she reached the library door, and she was relieved to go inside, where Aunt Letty was not alone but had Jovian with her. They were seated at a table, poring over a priceless first edition of Culpeper’s Complete Herbal.

  The library was filled with rare books, maps, and papers, and its walls almost completely sheathed in bookcases. Maroon brocade draperies hung at the windows, and an ancient pendulum clock ticked slowly in a corner. Beyond the open windows there was a beautiful knot garden where Anthea noticed Huw Gadarn instructing two undergardeners. Even from that distance, it was possible to see that he had a pistol thrust into his belt; evidently the previous night was not an isolated instance.

  The Welshman was aware of Lady Letitia’s presence in the library and kept glancing toward her, but Anthea wasn’t quite sure if her aunt was equally conscious of him. Lady Letitia looked fetching in a deep shade of apricot and beamed at Anthea as if today were all that was delightful and to be appreciated.

  “Ah, there you are at last, my dear. I was beginning to fear you would never awaken. I trust you are fully refreshed?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you, Aunt Letty.” Anthea gave her a warm hug.

  Jovian had risen to his feet the moment Anthea entered. He was dressed for riding, she noticed, although his coat was old gold in color rather than pine green, and he, too, smiled at Anthea.

  “Good morning,” he said, but then his smile faded as a slight roll of thunder announced the arrival of the hare on one of the neat gravel paths in the knot garden. The open window meant that it—or rather Abigail—could hear every word said in the library, so Jovian’s reaction was swift, smooth, and faultless. A slight unsteadiness immediately marked his gait as he came around the table to Anthea. Lurching just a little, he took her hand to raise it to his lips. “You are l-looking delight—hic—ful, Anthea.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, then took her hand away a little reproachfully. “Jovian, you seem ever so slightly tipsy again. I will be most displeased if you cause any problems in my alliance with dear Sir Erebus.” The words almost choked her, but somehow she managed to sound as if she meant them.

  “Such sentiments must turn your stomach, for they certainly turn mine,” came the reply in her head, but aloud he said, “Don’t you worry y-your pretty h-head. I’ll negotiate a handsome little c-contract for you.”

  He conducted her to the table and drew out a chair for her. As she sat down, Lady Letitia reached across to tap her hand fondly.

  “I’m so glad about this match, my dear. Sir Erebus is quite perfect for you, and my only regret is that dear Corinna did not accompany us on this visit. Still, I suppose I can well understand her desire to remain in London to be with her new aunt. Miss Wheatley was so very charming when she called upon us that I was quite taken with her.”

  “Yes, Aunt Letty,” Anthea replied, catching Jovian’s fleeting glance.

  Lady Letitia leaned closer. “Anthea, do you see that fine fellow outside? The one giving orders to those two gardeners?” she whispered, “Well, it is Huw! And what’s more, Jovian tells me he isn’t married and doesn’t have a sweetheart!”

  “Oh, I—I’m so glad he is still here, Aunt Letty. He certainly is very handsome.”

  “Isn’t he just? I knew him the very moment I saw him.” Lady Letitia gave a wistful sigh, then continued, “Jovian has informed me that in a short while now Huw will be meeting him in the old orangery to discuss what must be done to make it presentable again. I am to go too, but, for appearance’s sake, I think you should come as well.”

  “Of course, if that is what you wish.” Anthea already knew about the meeting in the orangery, for it was part of Jovian’s plan. “Sir Erebus will be conducted to us there, I trust, Jovian?” she asked, looking the picture of innocence.

  “Of course.” Unless Dame Fortune has obliged us by tipping him from his horse and breaking his odious neck! By the way, his purpose today is to give you the Harvest Maiden’s locket, which now contains Corinna’s hair, not Flora’s. You will allow him to place it around your neck, to conform to the act of giving and receiving. Neither you nor your aunt will know you have seen it before.”

  Huw left the knot garden by way of a postern in the high wall, and Lady Letitia immediately got up from her seat. She was flustered and her hands shook as she carefully closed the volume of Culpeper. Jovian and Anthea rose too, and he offered them both an arm to leave the library. From the doorway Anthea glanced back. The watchful hare was still there.

  Huw had still to come to the orangery when they arrived, so Anthea looked around as they waited. The first thing she noticed was the tree from which Abigail had been gathering fruit the night before. It grew directly out of a circular bed that had been cut into the otherwise stone-tiled floor and was about twelve feet tall, with thick, glossy, almost evergreen leaves, and pinkish gold fruit about the size of apples. These were the pomegranates from which was extracted the vital juice with which Sir Erebus enmeshed his victims.

  Anthea also knew from Jovian that the mistletoe growing secretly among the foliage could be used against Sir Erebus as well as by him. According to the Greek myth of Aeneas, the golden bough provided a certain means of entering the nether world. If presented to the Harvest Maiden tomorrow night it would ensure her a way out of that same nether world. It was therefore part of Jovian’s plan that the Lavender Lady should carry it to the rites and present it to Corinna in order to lay waste to Sir Erebus’s wicked ceremony.

  Once a sprig of the mistletoe had been cut, both the pomegranate tree and its golden-leafed guest would be destroyed in Sir Erebus’s presence without him realizing it. As they withered away, so would his power to hold sway over others. His ignorance of what was being done was very important, and the carrying out of the deed was the real reason for the meeting in the orangery; Aunt Letty’s reunion with Huw Gadarn was serendipity.

  Anthea surveyed the other plants, but they were all beyond redemption, either completely dead or too far gone in neglect for there to be any hope of reviving them. It seemed odd, she thought, when Huw was such a dedicated and skillful head gardener.

  Huw refuses to tend anything in here because of the pomegranate tree, which Abigail has to care for, Jovian explained in her head.

  The rest of the orangery had become a makeshift storeroom for a pile of old trunks, a dilapidated harpsichord, a stack of oil paintings in elaborate frames, and a large, rather ugly wine cooler, as well as all sorts of gardening tools and terracotta pots.

  On a row of hooks directly by the door there hung coils of twine, a string of withered onions, two rustic walking sticks, fishing rods, and a rather battered but particularly elaborate fan fashioned from ripe wheat ears and stalks. This last was called a corn dolly, even though they might be of various shapes and made of wheat, barley, oats, rye, or any other crop as well as corn.

  This one was the work of someone very skilled in the craft, and how old it was Anthea could not guess, but its rather battered condition suggested it had come from a harvest twenty or more years ago. Nineteen years ago, she thought then, guessing that this one had been made from the harvest of 1795.

  “You are right, my love
.”

  Lady Letitia noticed the corn dolly too. “Good heavens, I cannot believe it... !” she gasped.

  “Believe what, Aunt Letty?”

  “That fan is exactly like one that was made when I was here in ‘95. Huw said it would be used for the harvest home, and I was looking forward to watching all the festivities, but my disapproving parents hauled me home before then.”

  She, too, looked around the orangery, and like Anthea her glance happened upon the pomegranate tree. “Why, punica granatum!” she cried in surprise, for such trees were far from common in England, even under glass. She went closer and then drew back in surprise on noticing the mistletoe almost hidden beneath the foliage. “Oh, dear, I wonder if Huw is aware it has an invasion of viscum album?” she murmured.

  Anthea suddenly felt the hare’s presence by the entrance to the orangery. The creature was trying to keep out of sight behind the curtains that flanked the doorway, but the end of a drooping brown ear gave the game away. Abigail Wheatley was nothing if not dedicated when it came to eavesdropping for Sir Erebus.

  The sound of hooves and wheels approached along the drive outside, and Anthea recognized the black traveling carriage she had last seen outside Green Park. The coachman drove the horses along at a rattling pace, and gravel was tossed up as it passed the orangery. Its blinds were lowered, but there was no doubt that Sir Erebus Lethe was inside.

  A man walking along the drive in the opposite direction had to step hastily aside as the vehicle swept by, and when it had gone, Anthea saw that the man was Huw Gadarn. He gazed sourly after the carriage, then approached the orangery by way of a glazed door Anthea had not noticed before because it was in a corner and partly obscured by the stacked trunks. Snatching off his hat, he rapped respectfully at the glass, and Jovian nodded to him.

  The door creaked as it was opened, and then the gardener’s boots clumped on the stone floor as he came toward them and then bowed. He smiled in that almost roguish Welsh way that was so very attractive, and Anthea understood more and more how as a young man he had swept Lady Letitia Wintour from her feet.

  “Au, Huw,” Jovian drawled, “I’m thinking about p-pulling the whole—hic—damned orangery down but will hear your opinion f-first.”

  “It may come to that, your grace, but I will see what can be done,” Huw replied, unable to prevent his gaze moving to Lady Letitia, whose face was very pink indeed and who could not stop smoothing her gown like a self-conscious miss in her teens. “Do you remember me, Lady Letitia?” he asked. “It was a long time ago, I know, but—”

  “Of course I remember you,” she replied quickly. “How could I not? It is very good to see you again.”

  “I am honored, my lady,” he answered, his brown eyes dark and shining as they lingered on her. The years of separation ceased to matter, for she was still his beloved, still his cariad. Nothing would ever change that.

  Sebbriz spoke from the doorway. “Sir Erebus Lethe, your grace,” he announced, and the jingle of spurs sounded as Sir Erebus came into the orangery.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Sir Erebus was dressed in a gray coat and cream breeches, his dark hair was perfectly combed, and there were costly rings on his fingers. The bunch of seals dangling from his fob would have pleased Mr. Brummell himself, and he looked ready for a leisurely lounge down fashionable Bond Street, rather than a social call at a country house. The only thing to spoil the effect, Anthea noted with satisfaction, was the black eye he sported as a result of his encounter with Jovian’s fist.

  The owner of said fist was all smiles as he went to greet his loathed caller. “Ah, Lethe. Hic. Good G-God, whatever happened to your eye?”

  Sir Erebus’s nostrils flared a little. “Are you implying my injury is new to you?”

  Jovian’s puzzled frown was exquisite. “Of course it’s n-new to me. What happened?”

  “I fell from my horse.”

  “Nasty brute that h-hunter of yours. You really ought to get something more r-reliable. Hic.”

  Anthea had to fix her eyes on the floor to stop a smile, because Sir Erebus really had no idea how deftly he was being twitted.

  Everyone—except Lady Letty, of course, because she had no idea that anything was afoot—was relieved when Sebbriz and the hare withdrew, leaving Sir Erebus alone with his victims and foes. The continued presence of his supporters would have made the first part of Jovian’s plan difficult, if not impossible. As it was, the conspirators found themselves with a perfect opportunity to perform their deed.

  Jovian nodded discreetly at Huw, and the gardener moved away toward the pomegranate tree, pretending to commence a general inspection of the orangery. He made much of examining a wall and part of the floor, then shifted some pots to look behind them. His movements were slow and methodical and did not attract any undue attention from Sir Erebus, who now found himself the object of Lady Letitia’s gushing greetings.

  “Why, Sir Erebus, how delightful to see you again! And how splendid you look! I vow your togs put the duke to shame!” There was nothing forced about her delight, for she had drunk the kykeon the night before and this morning had taken tea laced with pomegranate. She meant what she said.

  “Lady Letitia.” Sir Erebus sketched a bow, but his dark eyes fixed upon Anthea. “We meet again, Lady Anthea,” he said softly.

  But Anthea was so preoccupied with whether or not Huw would succeed that she quite forgot what was expected of her. Jovian issued a sharp reminder. “Anthea!”

  She gave a guilty start and hastily mustered what she hoped was a warm and welcoming smile. “Forgive my distraction, Sir Erebus, but I fear I am rather overwhelmed by the honor you do me.”

  “Honor?”

  “In wishing me to be your wife.”

  “Ah, yes. But how could I not wish to marry you, Lady Anthea? You are all that is perfect, and you have charmed these eyes from the moment they saw you.”

  It is my inheritance that charms you, you monster, she thought, but all he saw was the false and foolish smile on her soft lips as she answered, “I—I cannot believe that I am to know such happiness.”

  “You are the delight of my heart, Lady Anthea,” he replied smoothly.

  “I’m flattered, sir.”

  “I have brought a small token of my esteem,” he said, and took the locket from inside his coat.

  She evinced pleasure. “Why, how beautiful it is!”

  Lady Letitia was in full agreement. “A most exquisite trinket, Sir Erebus. You are clearly a man of superb taste.”

  “I am when it comes to my choice of bride,” he replied smoothly, then addressed Anthea. “May I place it around your neck, my lady?”

  “Yes . . . of course.” Anthea hated the touch of his fingers against her skin, and all she could think was that the locket now contained a lock of poor Corinna’s hair. They shouldn’t be standing around in polite conversation with Hades; they should be forcing him to surrender Persephone!

  The locket rested coldly against her throat as she smiled again. “It is truly lovely, Sir Erebus. I will be sure to treasure it always. My only regret...”

  “Regret?” he said quickly.

  “Yes. I wish my stepsister were here too.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “Corinna and I may not have known each other for very long, but we have become very close.”

  “A family tie can overcome all else,” he murmured.

  “Indeed so.”

  Jovian spoke silently to her. Suggest a little perambulation to the end of the orangery and back.

  She smiled at Sir Erebus. “Shall we stroll a little?”

  “Why, of course.” He offered her his arm, and they walked slowly toward the far end of the orangery, away from the pomegranate tree.

  Lady Letitia turned to Jovian. “Do you think I should tell Huw about the viscum album in the punica—?”

  Jovian interrupted quickly. “He already knows, Lady Letitia,” he said quietly, hoping Sir Erebus had not heard anything.

>   “Really? Oh, well...” Lady Letitia thought no more of it.

  Anthea strove to engage Sir Erebus’s complete attention. Afterward she would not remember anything she said but would learn from Jovian that it had concerned everything from fashionable bonnets and how best to wear ribbons to how Wycke Hall might be refurbished after their marriage. She behaved exactly as an adoring, rather empty-headed bride should and carried it off with considerable panache. Sir Erebus, it seemed, did not care how empty her head was, provided her purse could not be similarly described.

  Jovian kept Lady Letitia busy by asking her about various trees in the park, and no one actually saw Huw take a sharp knife and bend swiftly beneath the pomegranate tree. In a few seconds he had deftly cut out a ring of bark a quarter of an inch wide all around the trunk, then he straightened hastily. So nimble and quick had he been that the branches of the trees had barely moved at all. Now the tree would gradually die, and with it the mistletoe that relied upon it for sustenance, but first a sprig of the mistletoe had to be removed while Sir Erebus was present in the orangery.

  Anthea and Jovian maintained their diversionary measures, and a moment later the mistletoe had been cut and the sprigs stuffed safely inside Huw’s coat. All had been achieved, and under the most perfect of circumstances.

  It is said that necessity is the mother of invention, and for Anthea that was very true indeed for the duration of Sir Erebus’s visit. She did not know how she managed to behave as if he had completely beguiled her, but when he eventually left, she was satisfied that her counterfeit smiles had been almost as impressive as Jovian’s supposed drunkenness.

  Just prior to Sir Erebus’s departure, they all partook of a goblet of kykeon in the great hall. Sebbriz brought it to them, and Abigail Wheatley stood to one side, her face very cold and still as she looked at Anthea. It was a gaze that left the latter in no doubt at all that she felt immense jealousy over Sir Erebus. However, Abigail’s deep resentment was the least of Anthea’s problems, her day of testing being far from over. Next she had to play the Lavender Lady for several hours under the watchful gaze of the people of Cathness, and she was very apprehensive indeed about her ability to carry it off.