by Jenny Brown
And then it struck him: he hadn’t dreamed of his sister—not once—since Zoe had come to his bed that night at the inn. That was strange enough, but even stranger was the fact that he hadn’t been aware of Charlotte’s absence. How could he not have noticed that her ghost no longer came to him, silent and reproving, to remind him that he hadn’t yet avenged her?
As he breathed in the musty scent of the room that had been Charlotte’s prison, an unexpected sense of peace settled on his heart. Could he have done the right thing, after all, in making Zoe his wife?
He yearned for it to be true, but there was no way to be certain. If only he knew why the Dark Lord had chosen Zoe to be his bride. But his teacher was as dead as his sister, and neither of them would ever answer him again, plead with them though he might.
A tiny sound put him on the alert. A mouse scurried across the top of the chest that had held his sister’s few treasures. He took an involuntary step toward it and stopped when he saw what lay trapped in the crack between the chest and the wall. It was his sister’s knife, the folding penknife he’d given her, which she’d treasured so. It must have slipped off the top of the chest, and of course once that had happened she wouldn’t have been able to get anyone to retrieve it for her. But finding it now, he felt as if she’d left it there for him.
A thrill ran through him. The knife held so many memories. It had been given to him for his birthday when he’d turned ten, a sign that he was no longer a child but a man who could be trusted to not carve his initials in the furniture. He’d thrilled with pride. But, of course, it had been Charlotte’s birthday, too, so after he was done admiring his prize, he’d gone to show it to her, wondering what treasure she’d received.
But she’d been given nothing. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The rest of them always did what they could to ignore her. But their neglect ruined his pleasure in his knife, and his sister’s attempt to rejoice with him over it had only made it worse.
Late that evening, when Auld Annie had dozed off by the fire, he’d sneaked into Charlotte’s chamber and given her his precious knife as his birthday present to her. She’d tried to refuse it. After all, she’d never be able to use it. But he’d insisted she keep it. He wanted her to have the things a normal child would have, and he’d known even then that he would be the only one who would ever give them to her.
Now, she had given it back, a gift more precious than his had been. He took a book from the shelf and used its cover to pry the knife from the crack where it was lodged. When it was out, he picked it up with a shaking hand. The blade opened as smoothly as if it were new. Its edge, unused, was still sharp. He slipped it into his pocket.
His sister had come in answer to his summons, after all. And as if his sister had whispered the words to him, he knew what it was she wanted him to do with her precious gift.
Zoe told herself that Adam had been telling the truth when he’d left her so abruptly to keep his appointment with his bailiff. She must remember that he was the master of this vast estate with all the responsibilities it represented. But she couldn’t fully believe it, for she’d felt the strong emotion that had swept over him, right before he’d withdrawn from her so abruptly.
Something had spooked him. There was no reason for him to depart so hastily. The bailiff would have waited had the lord of Strathrimmon stayed on to dally with his newly wedded wife in her chamber. Something else had made him wrench himself out of her arms and flee as if pursued by furies. Though whether it was her ugliness or her parentage, she couldn’t say. He’d denied that either was to blame, but he’d had a hard time disguising his horror at how close they had come to consummating their marriage. Something had appalled him.
There was no point in dwelling on it. She supposed she should be grateful that he hadn’t taken her body without love. That might even show some greatness of spirit on his part. His body had certainly wanted hers. So perhaps he was telling the truth when he’d said it wasn’t her ugliness that had driven him away.
But if that was true, it must have been her parentage. Strong as his lust had been, it hadn’t been enough to make him betray the sister to whom he’d given his lifelong loyalty. That he was capable of such loyalty made Zoe love him more. If only that same loyalty of his hadn’t made it impossible for him to love her. She was tiring of paradoxes.
The sounds of the busy household outside her door reminded her that her husband wasn’t the only one who had responsibilities to their dependents. She shouldn’t be lying here sniveling about love when she was supposed to be meeting with the housekeeper to learn more about her new domain. As long as Adam honored her with the role of wife, she must fill it as best she could, and give him no reason to regret that he’d elevated her to so high a station.
She was almost done dressing when she heard a noise at her door. Before she could tell whoever it was to go away, the door opened a crack, and her husband’s aged nurse hobbled into the room.
“I’ve brought ye something, to fend off the evil of the curse.” Auld Annie held out a branch of some shriveled herb. “Though little help it may be to ye.”
“I didn’t ask you for help,” Zoe snapped. “Nor do I recall inviting you into my chamber.” The woman hadn’t even knocked.
Auld Annie made that strange gesture with her hand again, and her eyes hardened.
“Aye, but ye will have need for my help, and soon, I ween, for he’s young and healthy, our Adam, and cannae keep his hands off o’ ye. But ye’re but a young lassie and ken not what ye do. So I take no offense. Auld Annie will aid ye when ye need her, as she did yer husband’s puir mither.” Then, before Zoe could reply, the old woman turned on her heel and made her way out of the chamber.
Yes, clearly it was time to take on the role her husband had thrust on her. The servants had become far too bold in their master’s absence. If she tolerated such behavior from one, soon they would all be taking such liberties. She’d seen her pupils act in much the same way when a new teacher had been introduced to Mrs. Endicott’s school.
After dressing, she made her way down the wide staircase bordered in heavy oaken paneling that led down to the main hall, where she found Mrs. MacAlpin awaiting her at the foot of the stairs. The housekeeper stood primly, her posture suggesting she felt aggrieved at having had to wait for her slugabed mistress. Her mouth was set in a grim smile.
It would pose a challenge to grasp the reins of her new household. But Zoe welcomed it. It would give her something to do besides mooning over her husband like a besotted schoolgirl. But as she took in the housekeeper’s tightly pressed lips and the way her fingers curled possessively around the large bunch of keys at her waist, she knew that she must go about it carefully. She needed to make her an ally, not an enemy.
“I expect you’ll be wanting the keys, Yer Ladyship.” The older woman made a great show of unfastening the heavy bundle of iron keys that hung from her belt.
Zoe considered taking them and dismissing the woman. She was the mistress here and wanted there to be no mistake about it. But the unvoiced resentment that radiated from every inch of Mrs. MacAlpin’s wiry body reminded her of that of the girls who’d been sent to Mrs. Endicott’s school against their will. She’d learned when handling them that, if she didn’t make an issue of it, their resentment often abated on its own, after she’d allowed them some time to adjust to their new situation. It was understandable that Mrs. MacAlpin might fear being uprooted by the sudden appearance of the upstart who had come to take her place.
So Zoe favored her with a gracious smile. “You may keep the keys for now. I’ll need your help, if I’m to do as good a job of managing the household as you’ve done in His Lordship’s absence.”
The older woman gave her a searching look. “I only did my job, Yer Ladyship.” Though her voice was gruff, she looked pleased. It was comforting to learn that, as unprepared as Zoe might feel to become the mistress of so grand an establishment, her years of dealing with the many clashing female personalities to be found
in a ladies’ academy had taught her much that might come in useful in managing her husband’s estate.
“Now I should like you to show me through my new home. There’s so much I’ll need to know about it that only another woman would fully understand.”
Mollified, the housekeeper spent the next hour leading her through the principal rooms and sharing many valuable insights. Though Mrs. MacAlpin, like most of her countrymen, was not given to idle chatter, she’d spent most of her life at Strathrimmon and was deeply devoted not only to the family but to the manor itself. As she got over her shock at having a new mistress, she began to see the advantages of making her new mistress an ally in bringing the house back to its earlier splendor.
The housekeeper proudly showed off the Sevres porcelain urns displayed in the niches set in the walls of the main saloon, before pointing out where the Turkey carpet that covered its floor was in need of repair. She recounted who had shot the stags whose heads adorned the walls of the billiard room, and noted which chimney smoked, and what windows needed caulking. In the long gallery, she identified the various Lord Ramsays whose paintings graced the walls, and then ventured the suggestion that it was time that His Lordship’s own visage should join them there.
“Is there a portrait here of his sister?” Zoe asked.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Nae, nae. That would hardly be proper.” Then she quickly changed the subject, lamenting the depredations that woodworm had wrought on the carved ceilings that were the hall’s principal ornament.
As they passed through a small withdrawing room, fitted out in a style that would have been the height of fashion thirty years before, Zoe noticed a door that led to what appeared to be a glassed-in conservatory. Her heart lifted. A conservatory would make it possible to rear some choice plants despite the short growing season.
But when they entered it, Zoe’s hopes were dashed. The conservatory had been badly neglected. Panes of glass were missing, others were broken, and the stove that should have warmed it looked as if it had never been completely assembled.
“It appears the Dowager Lady Ramsay wasn’t given to gardening,” Zoe said.
“On the contrary, she was quite fond of it, before her marriage. His Lordship’s father, Lord Ramsay that was, made this glass room for his new bride, especially to please her. And he’d ha’ done far more for her after that, for he had many a plan for grand improvements. But when he learned that she was to bear him twins, that was the end of it. There was nae point in going on, once he knew the Ramsay curse had struck again.”
Mrs. MacAlpin said the last words in a tone that suggested that a curse striking was something all landowners must expect, like a bad harvest or an early frost. She added, “Next thing we knew, he’d gone off to the Continent alone, and he died there soon after, poor mannie, before the bairns were born. There was no talk of improvements after that.”
“But surely when Lady Ramsay knew she was to bear twins, she must have wished to make a new nursery for her children?”
The housekeeper gave her a hard look. “After the bairns were born, Lady Ramsay had nae stomach for anything to do with them. Not with them so clearly touched with the curse’s mark.” She pursed her lips. “Auld Annie was given the care of them, the same as had been the old Lord Ramsay’s nurse. She held that what was good enough for the babes’ father in his nursery days must be good enough for them. And of course it was. Ye find nae fault with your husband, now do ye, my lady? Auld Annie knew her job and did it well.”
Zoe had always heard the Scots were a superstitious people but until now she’d not realized how truly backward they were. She must straighten out this business of the curse now or she’d never hear the end of it. “Pray tell me,” she demanded of the housekeeper, “what is all this about some Ramsay curse?”
“Has yer husband nae mentioned it to ye, my lady?”
“No. Though Auld Annie did, last night.”
The housekeeper’s face, which had relaxed slightly as she’d gone about the house displaying its treasures, froze up. Her lips were once again pressed firmly closed and her eyes shuttered. When she spoke, her voice was clipped. “If His Lordship hasna mentioned it, it’s not for me to talk of such things. If ye wish to know, ye must ask him to explain it.”
Though she was tempted to press Mrs. MacAlpin for more information, Zoe was unwilling to lose the small store of goodwill she’d built up over the course of the morning. So she merely nodded and let the older woman lead her back through the cavernous kitchen with its huge open hearth and large roasting spit, and then on into the dairy, where Mrs. MacAlpin pointed out how clean the basins were in which the fresh cream was set out and observed how difficult it was to find dairy maids who would do the work needed to keep them that way.
When their tour was over. Zoe gave her orders as to the dinners to be served during the week and dismissed the housekeeper. Then she returned to her chamber with much to think about.
Adam’s business with MacAlpin took up the better part of the day. Much as he longed to hasten through it so he could return to his wife, his duty to his tenants made that impossible. What his bailiff had had to tell him had been sobering. Too many tenants had been driven from their holdings to open their fields to more grazing. He must put a stop to that. He had a duty to protect his people.
When he finally met up with Zoe at supper, they could only discuss commonplaces, surrounded as they were by servants. Adam rushed through his meal with almost unseemly haste, burning with impatience to get Zoe alone again. But where? What he needed to discuss with her could only be brought up in private, but the intimacy of her bedchamber would be likely to have a chilling effect on them both after what had taken place there this morning.
Fortunately the weather was fair, and there remained another hour of light. On the pretext that he wished to show Zoe some of the curiosities to be found on the estate, he invited her to join him in the gig. To his relief, she showed no hesitation about joining him, but quickly fetched her shawl.
At first, they rode in silence. It was only when they were well away from the crenellated tower of his home—and its inquisitive servants—that he steered the gig over to the side of the rough track they’d taken and brought the horse to a halt. For a moment they sat there in the silence, listening to the symphony of birdsong that rose from the hedges and enjoying the cool breeze. Then Adam said, “Sometime ago, I robbed you of something you valued. I’d like to make amends to you for taking it.”
The look of surprise that swept across Zoe’s face made him wish he’d phrased his words differently. Was she thinking of how he’d stolen her free will from her? He hoped not, for that he could not restore. Indeed, if he were honest, he must admit he didn’t want to restore it. Not when his spell was the only thing that kept her here with him, and every new hour taught him how much he wanted her to stay.
Before she could answer, he reached into his pocket and drew forth Charlotte’s knife. “I can’t return the knife Mrs. Endicott gave you, for I destroyed it. But will you accept this one? It’s very dear to me for it used to belong to my sister.”
She took it from him, and she studied it quietly for a moment. Then her eyes met his, and in their warm brown depths he saw what he hadn’t let himself hope for: approval—and something else he didn’t dare to interpret.
Had she remembered how he’d taken that other knife from her when he’d brutally driven her from his bed at the inn, with words so cruel he could barely bring himself to remember them? Was he wrong in thinking she had received the silent message he’d hoped this knife would bear? Did she know his clumsy gift was an attempt to make up to her for the hurtful way he’d fled again from her embrace this morning?
For a moment—though perhaps it was only his hope that made him believe he’d observed it—he thought she did. Indeed, the glow in her eyes made him think his gift might have made her feel affection for him that didn’t entirely owe its existence to his spell.
She opened the kn
ife slowly and inspected the blade. Then she reached beneath the neckline of her gown and pulled out a long, thin silver chain. She opened the clasp and slid the chain through the bail of Charlotte’s knife as if it had been a pendant. When she had fastened it again, she dropped the chain with its precious burden into the cleft between the rounded mounds of her breasts.
Then she spoke. “I’m glad you have enough faith in me now to trust me with such a fine gift, and I’ll treasure it all the more because it was your sister’s.”
He couldn’t keep himself from adding, “I found it in her room. I hope you won’t think me overly superstitious when I say I think she wanted you to have it.”
“No, I’m glad to hear it. Though since I find you in such a generous mood I shall presume on your good nature and take the liberty of asking you for something else.”
He felt his heart contract. What more would she ask him for?
Zoe gave him a comforting smile. “Don’t look so worried. It isn’t something extravagant. When I spent the afternoon with Mrs. MacAlpin, touring the hall, she showed me the conservatory. It is in such sad repair that I couldn’t help but wish it could be finished. It would be such a comfort to me and should cost little, as it’s nearly done. Would that be too much to ask?”
Stupidly he replied, “You wish to garden?”
“I do. But there’s more to it than that. Mrs. MacAlpin told me the story of how the conservatory was abandoned at your father’s death, and that made me think how it must sadden you every time you pass it, for it can’t help but remind you of your loss.”
That was true enough, but though it was kindness that spurred his wife’s request, Adam felt his chest tighten, making it difficult to breathe. What else had Mrs. MacAlpin told her about why his father had left the conservatory abandoned? Obviously, not the whole truth, or Zoe wouldn’t still be calmly chatting with him.
She went on, “We must make his conservatory into a place of healing. Do you plan to keep up with your medical practice?”
