The Thorn Keeper

by Pepper D. Basham

  Aunt Josephine greeted Catherine like the prodigal, her usual exuberance accompanying a grand display of affection she never received from Mother. Catherine used to view it as a rite, a deserved crowning of regard since their great uncle owed his yearly allowance to Grandmama’s good graces, but now, with vision less consumed with pride, Catherine took a new view of her widowed aunt and saw a fading beauty who had longed for the children that would never come.

  And her aunt had always opened her home to Catherine when she wished to visit the city. Her aunt also knew of St. John’s Wood, the luxurious area of London which housed Willow Tree Court, home of Lord and Lady Hollingsworth. Her aunt had not exaggerated the immensity of the homes or the grandeur of the area. Willow Tree Court stood as one massive home in a line of others, each with a well-tended and elaborate front gardens and entry gates. The tall brick Georgian rose above her as the car deposited her at the doorstep. Catherine had visited Ednesbury Court a handful of times, had grown up in Roth Hall, but the opulence displayed from the massive windows to the golden glow of the bricks of Willow Tree shot a tremor through her.

  In the past, she’d waltzed into other homes with arrogance, but now an awareness of her station humbled her. You may be subject to your past, but you are not controlled by it. The whisper smoothed over her soul and bolstered her courage. No, with God’s help, she could be brave, no matter the sins darkening her shadow.

  An aged, lean butler greeted her. He stood tall, with the same expressionless demeanor as Jackson at Roth Hall. “Miss Dougall?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave a slight bow. “Welcome to Willow Tree Court. Lady Hollingsworth is waiting for you in the parlor.”

  Catherine looked around the dark mahogany, two-level entry. A chandelier hung in the center like a mass of crystallized teardrops. Higher fashion fit Willow Tree Court.

  “This way, Miss Dougall.”

  The butler led her through the entry which opened into a fabulous hall with a split grand stairway spiraling up on either side like tree branches to meet the upper level. Catherine worked to keep the awe from her expression and thus mark herself as ill-equipped for the task at hand, but her heart leapt with the sweet scent of such opulence.

  The butler ushered her into a room of morning light, rose curtains, and pale furniture that brought a sense of spring into the autumn day. A slender woman of her grandmother’s generation stood and welcomed her with a poised smile. Her pale gray gown boasted simple elegance and complemented her silvery, russet hair.

  “I’m glad you could come, Miss Dougall.” Lady Hollingsworth gestured toward the chair close to hers. “Won’t you join me for tea?”

  “Thank you.” Catherine took the proffered seat. “I can’t tell you how delighted I was to receive your invitation.”

  Lady Hollingsworth nodded to the maid who poured out the tea. “I must say, your letter piqued my interest. I’ve supported several hospitals since the war began, but none so far from London as Ednesbury.”

  “I can assure you, the quality of care received and the opportunity to recuperate in the country carries its own benefits. There are more wounded than hospitals can treat. Dr. David Ross and his sister are both quite capable administrators. They not only run the facility with efficiency and quality, but will ensure that your money is used in the most productive way.”

  “Miss Dougall, I have no doubt of your passion for the hospital, or the abilities of Dr. and Nurse Ross. In fact, from first receiving your letter, I’ve had it in mind to support the hospital.”

  Catherine released the tense air in her throat. “You’ll find Dr. Ross a most grateful recipient.”

  “Yes.” She took a sip of her tea and watched Catherine over the rim, expression giving away nothing. “But my particular reason for this interview was to meet you.”

  Catherine set her cup down. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I am no stranger to Ednesbury or the Dougalls. In fact, your grandmother has been my dear friend ever since we were young. I called Ednesbury my home until I met the Duke at a dinner party held at Roth Hall and hosted by none other than Victoria Dougall.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so intimately acquainted with my family.”

  Lady Hollingsworth’s hazel eyes turned sad. “I received a letter from your grandmother only a few weeks ago, at which time she explained the seriousness of her illness and also encouraged me to contact you.”

  A mist fogged Catherine’s vision, the fresh wound of her Grandamama’s death dangling her emotions over a fragile ledge. “My sister sent me notice of her passing only two days ago.”

  “I see.” Lady Hollingsworth paused her cup in mid-air and placed it back on the table. “I am sorry for your loss. Her generosity of spirit and tenacity will not be easily forgotten.”

  Catherine smiled through the growing warmth in her eyes. “No, I should think not.”

  “She wasn’t one to wait around for ideas or adventure. She made them happen.”

  “And brought other people along with her, whether they were ready or not.”

  Lady Hollingsworth chuckled. “Quite right. I was among some of those early schemes of hers, particularly her undying devotion to the lost art of matchmaking. She held a remarkable power of persuasion.”

  Matchmaking? The very idea of Grandmama’s subtle fingers in everyone’s lives inspired a laugh. “Yes, she did.”

  A sliver of silence sobered the conversation, with only the ‘ting’ of Lady Hollingsworth’s spoon stirring in her cup. “She was quite proud of you, you know.”

  Catherine looked up from her sip of tea. “Proud of me?”

  “Yes, she said as much in her letter.”

  Proud? Of her?

  “I can see by your confusion that you neither know your _Grandmama or yourself as well as you think.”

  Catherine returned her cup to its saucer, her hand growing unsteady. “I’m not certain I understand what you mean, my lady.”

  “Your _Grandmama apprised me of certain information about you and your previous choices that have somewhat overshadowed your future.”

  Catherine lowered her gaze to her lap, the same shame washing over her at another reminder of her sin.

  “You have no reason to lower your head now, Catherine. If I understand correctly, you have been made right in the eyes of God, and he sees you as whole and healed. I will not condone your previous behavior, but neither would you, I suspect.”

  Her gentle tones, her quiet encouragement, brought Catherine’s gaze back to her face. “No, I’d never choose to repeat my behavior, except….” The knowledge, the sudden awareness came out of nowhere. “Except that I wouldn’t wish to go back to the person I used to be, and if…and if it took these circumstances to open my eyes to God’s grace, then I am…” She released a surprised brush of air. “I am glad for those circumstances.”

  Her heart twisted from the contradiction she’d voiced. Glad for the wounds her choices with Drew caused? Grateful?

  Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. Yes! Without her brokenness, she wouldn’t have her sister’s relationship, her service to the hospital, or the seamstresses, her grandmother’s pride, or David’s admiration. No, this side of brokenness was much better than the place before, when she’d mistakenly believed she was whole.

  “Would we all have such clarity?” Lady Hollingsworth took a sip of tea then placed her cup back on the table. “And your statement only proves the more your grandmother’s faith in you.”

  Catherine pushed away a rebel tear. “Faith in me?”

  “Your _Grandmama came from a long line of strong and courageous woman who were all refined by trial, mistakes, and suffering. They understood the power of grace as well as their place and purpose in the hands of the Almighty.”

  “So even the struggles are worthwhile, then?”

  Lady Hollingsworth leaned a little closer, her eyes taking on a fiery light. “Great people do not come from smooth seas, dear Catherine. They never have. Whether by the unco
ntrollable tempests that blow through life or our own vain attempts to control our worlds by selfishness or pride, the greatest strength is born out of suffering, or rather out of learning from our suffering.”

  “I’m certain my personality resembles more of a tempest than a calm sea.”

  Lady Hollingsworth’s light laugh fit the airy brightness of the room. “I would suspect that humility has taught you well then. God has brought you to this place, and you are using the courage he’s given you to serve His purposes.” She opened her palm and gestured to the room. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise, finding support for a group of people who can give you little except gratitude in return.”

  Catherine’s smile bloomed. “It’s amazing how one’s perspective changes when you’re stripped of your dreams.”

  Her brow lifted. “And given new dreams—better ones, I daresay.”

  Catherine basked in the new understanding. So much like Grandmama.

  “Let me comfort you with the knowledge of your four greatest strengths. You have your Savior’s spirit to empower you, your grandmother’s heart to encourage you, a solid memory to remind you from whence you have come, and the promise of a future secured in unending grace.”

  “That’s beautiful.” Tears blurred Catherine’s vision, the weight and the freedom of those words pressing in on her.

  “That is truth.” Lady Hollingsworth’s smile crinkled at the corners of her eyes. “I do wish to support Dr. Ross’ work and your sister’s orphanage, but even more, I want to support you, Catherine Dougall. Your unfailing devotion and courage displays the very heart of strength in these great times of trial. You, in more ways than blood, mirror your grandmother.”

  “I hope you’re right and that your memory isn’t failing.”

  Lady Hollingsworth darted a grin. “My memory is the only thing that isn’t failing in this body of mine.” She nodded. “Your Grandmama’s spirit may have softened over time, but she was your equal in determination and strength. And, I daresay, stubbornness.”

  “I don’t think her stubbornness ever softened.”

  “She was also a woman who valued redemption and second chances.” Lady Hollingsworth drew in a deep breath. “Those who learn from heartache and mistakes value grace with a greater affection. Your _Grandmama knew a similar brokenness as you and grew from it.”

  “What brokenness? Her father’s early death?”

  Lady Hollingsworth folded her hands in front of her and paused, tilting her head to the ceiling as if in thought. “Her father’s death certainly influenced her. It was then that she became the sole heir to a historically male entail. The responsibilities of salvaging a failing fortune and estate was a heavy burden on a young woman’s shoulders.”

  “But what of her husband? Didn’t he help her? Who suggested she sell parcels of land to keep the bulk of the estate safe? The Cavanaughs?”

  Lady Hollingsworth studied Catherine a moment in silence before continuing. “She was not ready to marry after her heartbreak. You see, your _Grandmama was engaged to the late Lord Cavanaugh, the man whose widow now resides at Ednesbury Court.”

  Crow Cavanaugh’s late husband? Catherine gripped the side of her chair. “Did he break their engagement?

  “What do you know of Lord James Cavanaugh?”

  Catherine blinked from the sudden change in topic. “I only know him to be the father of the late Lord Jeffrey Cavanaugh of Ednesbury Court. Dr. Ross’ great grandfather.”

  “Yes, Jeffrey Cavanaugh was the second-born son. The elder son died fighting the Boers and left no heir, thus relinquishing the estate to Jeffrey. Lord James’s daughter, the man’s pride and joy, married well to a Mr. Avery Ross.”

  “Dr. Ross’ grandfather. Yes, I know that part of this story, but how does it impact Grandmama’s engagement?”

  “A falling out happened between your grandmother’s father, Captain Davidson Spencer, and the elder Lord Cavanaugh due to both parties’ desire to control the town of Ednesbury, which the Spencer’s owned at the time. The disagreement was so extreme that both men refused to allow the engagement between their children to continue, thus dividing the estates until this day.”

  “Was it a love match?”

  Lady Hollingsworth’s smile grew sad. “Oh yes, very much so. I don’t think either forgot the other.”

  Catherine sat back in her chair to take in the information. Well, this certainly explained some of Lady Cavanaugh’s hatred toward the Spencer family.

  “When the disagreement occurred, the fathers prohibited the two young lovers from seeing one another again. The rift in the relationship, followed by the sudden death of Captain Spencer, left the estate in dire need. Your grandmother was young, heartbroken, and lonely. She made choices, some good, and some which stung with lasting consequences, but as you have said, circumstances have a way of refining and reforming people. It fueled her generosity, but also her determination to save Roth Hall.”

  The story became clear. “So to save the estate, she sold of parcels of land?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Lord Cavanaugh was happy to buy them.”

  “The expansion of land is a country gentleman’s gold.” Lady Hollingsworth leaned forward, keeping her gaze focused on Catherine’s. “I shared this with you to bring you courage, that out of the most dire circumstances, a person with a vision will see a way to make things right.”

  Lady Hollingsworth stood and took an envelope from a small tray, giving it to Catherine. “Here is a letter of intent, along with some monies to help ensure your purchase of a much finer x-ray machine as well as any other immediate medical needs the hospital may have. I hope to send more monies within the next month to help support the orphanage, but my present commitments keep me from offering more.”

  “I’m grateful for whatever you’ve given.”

  “There are names of five other such patrons here in London. I have provided references for all of them and suggest you visit with them and speak of your cause.”

  Catherine fought the urge to take Lady Hollingsworth into her arms. “I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been…truly a Godsend.”

  Her smile softened. “I am pleased to have met you, Catherine Dougall, and hope this will be a valuable connection for both of us in the future.”

  “Are you leaving us too?”

  Michael looked up and David stepped further into the room, examining Michael’s bag of materials. “What do you mean?”

  “I was just informed by my sister that Catherine has gone off to London on some mysterious mission, and now I come in to see you packing up supplies?”

  Michael released a sigh as he propped his elbow on his knee. “Annie Feagan hasn’t given me much of a choice. She practically ordered me to help with some repairs at Madame what’s-her-name’s shop.”

  David pulled a chair closer and took a seat. “Madame Rousell? How did Annie become associated with Madame?”

  “How do you think?” Michael pinned David with a stare and slowly stood. “Catherine’s save-the-world scheming.”

  David smiled despite his current frustration at the woman’s behavior. Why did the thought of his scheming American bring such pleasure with it? “The very thought of her alliance with Madame Rousell should instill fear in all the residents of Ednesbury. What a pair!”

  “Oh great.” Michael ran a hand through his hair. “Now I’m even more excited about visiting the local dress shop. It’s bad enough to have Catherine giving me orders, but now Annie’s taken lessons. Bossy women must be my punishment for past mistakes.”

  David laughed, a welcome relief from the agitation Catherine’s absence posed.

  Michael turned and looked up. “Any news from the Front?”

  “Nothing good. It seems our boys are hitting a wall at every turn. There’s been an enormous loss of life this year, and Father’s letters reiterate the need for more assistance.”

  “I won’t be surprised if America doesn’t join up soon. In fact, I hope they do so we can e
nd this horrible waste of life.”

  “It makes one set his priorities and perspectives in order.” He watched Michael stuff a few tools into the bag, deliberating whether to broach the subject with him. He certainly needed perspective, and his sister wasn’t helpful. Michael had easily earned David’s trust over the past few months, patiently fulfilling his responsibility as caretaker of Roth Hall as well as chipping in wherever else he might be needed.

  “Before you set off on your adventures as an indentured servant to the French and Irish, I’d like your…” David cleared his throat, his face warming with discomfort. “Your thoughts about a certain…um…delicate situation I’m trying to puzzle out.”

  “The one about Radcliffe and his notorious cigarettes?”

  “Um… no, it’s actually of a more personal nature.”

  Michael closed his tool bag. “If it’s about your sister, I want no part of it. I’ve already told you my lot in life with bossy women.”

  A little of the tension dissolved from David’s shoulders. “No, not that particular female.”

  Michael’s grin started on one side and made a slow, knowing slide to the other. “It wouldn’t be in regards to a certain scheming, raven-haired American, would it?”

  David drew in a deep breath and placed his palms on his knees, leaning forward. “Let’s say that it was.”

  “I already feel sorry for you.” Michael sat down across from David and crossed his arm. “So, what’s the…delicate situation, and please spare both of us the time and just say it.”

  “I’m in love with her.”

  Michael’s brows shot high. “Good for you. That was about as direct as it comes. Does Catherine know?”

  “I’m fairly certain she does, which is what’s caused the problem, it seems.”

  Michael’s expression turned skeptical. “She doesn’t reciprocate?”