A Refuge for Rosanna

by Susan Karsten

  At dawn a few days later, she swung out of bed, rang the bell, and went right to the wardrobe to select a favorite gown. Summer meant sprigged muslin during the day. A variety of trimmings and an array of colors made for a wide selection. She pulled out a pale, creamy yellow dress trimmed in green.

  By this time, Dot had arrived with coffee, opened the drapes, and stood ready with a hairbrush in hand.

  The maid set down the brush and helped Roseanna fasten the gown. “Dot, a simple ribboned queue today, please. Yes, that’s it.” Rosanna stood up, twirled once in front of her cheval mirror, and almost danced out the door and down to breakfast.

  “You look wonderful this morning, dearie. Are your spirits finally restored?” Miss Barton selected a piece of bacon and raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

  “All’s right with the world, again, my friend.” She selected eggs, strawberries, and ham, and the footman carried it to the table while she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “You certainly have a happy air of peace and joy this morning. That’s a relief. I’ve been so concerned—after all that transpired.”

  “You’re so kind. Has Mr. Clough been a consolation to you in your distress?” Rosanna put the coffee cup in front of her lips to hide her grin.

  “You scapegrace. Don’t taunt me, just because I may have a gentleman friend after all these years.” Miss Barton broke her bacon into pieces and dropped them one by one on her plate.

  The door opened and Lord Halburt crossed the threshold. He entered as if making an entrance onto a theater stage. He made a flourishing bow, straightened, and in a smooth motion, flapped his gloves toward protesting Perkins who had entered the room on the tails of the unwelcome Halburt.

  Miss Barton whispered behind her hand. “Did he rehearse that?”

  Perkins’s irritation at the lord’s rude intrusion was palpable.

  Rosanna didn’t want to make a scene. “Good morning, Lord Halburt, this is quite a surprise. I’d heard you were in London. Perkins, it’s all right, you may go.”

  The man’s gestures suited the stage, and accompanied each phrase. “Ah, yes. London’s a fine city, but the air is so bad for one’s health this time of year. Alas, business required me to journey forth from this fair region.”

  “I see. Breakfast?” Rosanna couldn’t think of another response to his folderol.

  “Nay. I’ve broken my fast at home. No, Miss Cabot, I’m here to request your charming presence on a stroll about your grounds. In sight of the house. That way we can be unchaperoned, correct?” He looked at Miss Barton for approval.

  “Miss Cabot has my permission. Yes, that’s fine. She’s reached her majority, you know?”

  Miss Barton must be extracting revenge by answering so fast. Rosanna heard a snicker, hidden within a fake cough. Struggling with reluctance, politeness won out, she rose from the table, and like a lamb led to the slaughter, retrieved her bonnet and shawl from the hall.

  Perkins held the door open.

  Rosanna reluctantly took Lord Halburt’s arm to descend the front steps.

  The man began to hum. “Fine day. Hmm.”

  She must put a stop to this before she smacked the fop. “Lord Halburt?”

  He stopped.

  She’d won his attention. Scrambling for something to say to the man, to keep him from any more humming, and get him talking, probably for about twenty minutes. Anything rather than the humming. She settled on a commonplace. “Your business in London—it must have been important to pry you away from home.”

  Distracted, he answered uncharacteristically briefly. “Indeed. Deuced important.” As they passed a stone bench, he swung Rosanna around, and with a move that would do a danseur proud, landed her on the seat and himself on one knee in front of her.

  53

  Rosanna tried to stand, but his knees on the hem of her dress forestalled her rising. “Get up, you oaf.”

  “Now, dear young lady, don’t be embarrassed. I’m here for the most honorable of purposes. To join our estates in holy matrimony.”

  She lightly pushed his shoulders to encourage him to rise. In sight of the house as the bench was, she hoped no one witnessed this debacle. “Halburt, I’ll explain something to you. Estates can’t get married. Get off my dress.”

  He didn’t obey. “Oh, er, I mean join our lives in holy…”

  “Stop right there. I get your meaning, and no.”

  “No? I haven’t proposed yet. Listen. Make me the happiest of men. You are a treasure, Miss Cabot. Since you are over twenty-one years old, I don’t need to ask permission to pay my addresses. Thus, I pay them directly to you and ask you to be my wedded wife.” He then produced a further cascade of words extolling the estates’ mutual proximity.

  Rosanna put up with the flow as long as it took to form the proper set down. Her face flamed. She gave him a mighty shove and stood up. Before he could get up off the ground, she placed one half-booted foot upon his chest. “Now don’t say another word until I’ve said my piece, or I’ll grind my sole into your cravat, and it will never be the same.” That would pin the fop down for the time she needed to set him straight. “You have not studied your prey, Lord Halburt. A basic knowledge of me or anyone intimate with me would have informed you that I abhor marriages formed for financial gain, status, or property enhancement.”

  He sputtered and flopped like a fish on the bank of a river.

  Roseanna added, “I avoided it for four London seasons and, in fact, moved to Honor’s Point to live away from society and for a refuge from such arrangements. You are hereby informed of my philosophy. Now, I shall let you up if you promise not to pester me with your importunities again.”

  “I shan’t. Now let me up, you little vixen.”

  She removed her foot.

  He rose to his feet. Anger flashed in his eyes and infused his posture as he brushed off his breeches and straightened his coat.

  Concerned that she’d stepped across a line, she held out a hand. “Let’s cry friends. Link arms with me and you may deliver me to my front door. We shall bid each other a friendly adieu, and never refer to this unfortunate incident again.”

  His face an alarming shade of purplish red, he submitted to her face-saving plan. He linked arms with hers, pretending to be laughing and talking, but the tense rigidity of his arm told her that he only performed for the sake of his reputation. If anyone observed them, they’d surely think the prior scene some sort of joke, because after all, they walked back arm in arm.

  After Halburt delivered her to the front door, bowed, and stalked off, Rosanna gave Perkins another directive. “I remain not at home to Lord Halburt until further notice.”

  The chastened butler raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

  ~*~

  Spurts of girlish laughter brightened Rosanna’s mood. She and Ellie rested their feet on hassocks in the sitting area of Rosanna’s room—its coziness inspired late-night confidences.

  Ellie’s voice rose to a high pitch as she expressed her disbelief at Halburt’s misplaced ardor. “No. He didn’t say that.”

  “Yes. He did. He proposed that our estates marry each other. I am not bamming you. Those were his words. Good thing he thought eyes might be on us or he would have flown up into the boughs for sure, so great was his rage.”

  “Did he behave angrily?”

  “His eyes flashed with fury. He was in high dudgeon.”

  Due to nervous, suppressed laughter, Ellie’s voice came out a twitter. “Let’s hope he’s not the vengeful sort.” She tossed her head, sending ribbons of her silky red hair cascading over her shoulders before stating her estimation of the male species. “Men. Some of them think they are God’s gift, don’t they? As if their offers of their precious titled persons outweigh all other considerations.”

  “I suppose. They’re not all like that, though.” Rosanna sank into a reverie. The frivolity engendered by the day’s contretemps hadn’t erased her concern over the status of her relationship with Pete
r.

  Ellie wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Well, in my opinion, men are, for the most part, shabsters. I can only think of a few admirable ones.”

  Poor girl, what she must have been through to be so jaded regarding the male gender. Maybe she’d talk about it more someday. Rosanna patted Ellie’s arm. “You’ve found a refuge, so try to let it go. Whatever happened, you made it here and you’re safe, thanks be to God. Late though it is, I must write a letter before I retire, so we bring to an end this little tete a tete.”

  Ellie departed, leaving Rosanna to her task.

  The momentousness of the letter she needed to write crashed down. Hesitation held her for long minutes. A daydream intruded on her mind. She imagined Peter, alone in his cottage. Surely a sad, ashamed, and sorrowful man. Did he pine for her? Or was he already resigned to losing her? This thought banished her hesitation and she went to her desk. She hoped his love for her stayed true and pure. She realized the price he’d paid by confessing. That had to be torture for him. Dating the letter with tomorrow’s date, she began,

  Dearest friend,

  Please forgive me. Yes, me. I have sinned against you. ‘Tis hard for me, but I must admit my lack of love. You humbly confessed to me. Because of my life experiences and bitterness towards those who attempted to pressure me into loveless marriage, I denigrated your repentance. I loved once before. When he was killed something in me closed off, and I was left to fend off unwanted and unrighteous suitors. I am grateful, so grateful the Lord brought me to Honor’s Point. Looking back, I see His hand of providence guiding me to you and healing my heart through you. I forgive you fully and completely. Please, meet me at the falls, at one o’clock, this afternoon.

  Fondly yours, Rosanna

  54

  Perkins spoke up while assisting Rosanna at the breakfast buffet the following morning. “Miss Cabot, the footmen both have the lungrot. Cook’s dosing them. Harrumph. Sorry, I meant to say, they are ailing.”

  “That’s too bad. Tell Hannah to send to Lady Brook if she needs medicines. Her tinctures have a superb reputation.” As Perkins pushed her chair in, Rosanna made a mental note to check on ailing servants later. For now, hunger took over. She’d slept late, and the clock just chimed ten. Having regained her taste for food, lost since Peter’s revelation, she dug into the plate of ham and eggs. Peace of mind did wonders for the appetite.

  While she nibbled her food, and sipped her coffee, Perkins’s reedy, yet loud voice was audible through the closed door. The sounds of a disputatious interaction were recognizable, but unable to make out the words through the thick door, she disregarded the matter, until Perkins returned to continue footman duty.

  “Did someone call, Perkins? I thought I heard arguing.” She indicated that she had finished by placing her napkin on the table and made to get up.

  Perkins rushed over and pulled the chair out for her before answering. “Sorry for the disturbance, Miss. I followed your instructions, Miss, and told Lord Halburt ye wasn’t home. He walked into the front hall liked he owned the place.” The butler sniffed his disapproval. “I don’t intend to criticize my betters.”

  “No offense taken. Rather, you did the right thing. Thank you, Perkins. Did you see the envelope I left on the hall table? I want that delivered right away to Lord Winstead…”

  Another commotion erupted as Hannah, the cook, entered the dining room. Face red, she lifted the corners of her apron and made a humble curtsey. “Miss, the boys, the footmen? They be mortal sick, and me cures, they don’t be helping.” She wrung her hands with a miserable look on her face.

  “That’s terrible. I shall go see Lady Brook directly and bring her back here. Perkins, have the stables prepare a carriage and find Dot, she’ll come along. While they get the horses hitched and ready, I will look in on the patients.”

  The cook continued to wring her hands. “Oh miss. That’s not necessary, you bein’ the mistress and all.”

  “Not to worry, Hannah. You go back to your kitchen and don’t have a care. My mother trained me to have concern for all creatures, whether noble, gentry, or laborer, and I shall take a look at those two. Where are they?” After receiving directions, she hiked up several flights of stairs with Perkins at her heels.

  The young men weren’t too sick to be mortified by the appearance of the young mistress.

  She soon caught the drift that modesty precluded any real evaluation of their cases and retreated just as fast as she had come.

  ~*~

  “Lady Brook, I implore your assistance.” Rosanna arrived at Brook House to find the neighbor toiling in her stillroom, preparing yet more supplies for her vast medicine closet. “Two of my footmen are ill. It appears to be inflammation of the lungs and exceeds what our household can cure. Since the local medical man is down with a broken leg, you are our only recourse.”

  “Dear Miss Cabot, rest easy. I shall finish this tincture and be ready to go with you within a few minutes.”

  Rosanna watched in admiration as the older lady handily corked two bottles, took off her apron, and patted her hair. “I’m ready. Is your carriage out front?”

  “Yes, and thank you for coming to our rescue.”

  “Oh, la.” She fluttered her hands in a dismissive gesture. “I live for helping the sick. This is a treat for me. Let me find my wrap.”

  Rosanna followed Lady Brook out into the hall where Dot waited under the eye of Frimley, the butler. He handed Lady Brook her shawl and bonnet.

  “Just open the door, Frimley. The groom will help us into the coach.”

  The groom hoisted her sizeable medicine bag after her. Rosanna and Lady Brook faced forward, and Dot sat in the less desirable position with her back to the horses.

  Rosanna’s spoke with feeling, and patted Lady Brook’s hand. “I’m so glad you are my neighbor. Tis such a comfort, knowing you are near with all your cures.”

  The lady had a faraway look in her eyes. “Thank you, my dear. I live to bring my healing knowledge to others. Since Lord Brook died, it gives my life some purpose.”

  “It’s a blessing to those around you.” The coach gave a jostle, and Rosanna fell silent, her thoughts ran ahead to her assignation with Peter. How would it be? Would they be able to regain their rapport?

  The coachman traversed the circular drive, stopping at the front door of Honor’s Point. A groom ran out to hold the horses, and Perkins emerged from the house to assist the ladies from the carriage.

  Once in the hall, Rosanna directed Perkins to lead Lady Brook to the sick footmen. She disappeared up the stairs.

  Rosanna looked at the hall clock, surprised at the hour, then turned to Dot. “I will go out walking as soon as I take a bite to eat. You may accompany me. Meet me here after you do the same.”

  The maid scurried off in the direction of the kitchens.

  55

  “Dot, I want you to wait here.” She’d stopped at the top of the rickety stairs. Intending to make peace with Lord Winstead, Rosanna didn’t desire any witnesses to the emotional scene to come.

  “Yes, miss.” Dot sank down on a patch of grass and began to pluck dandelions for a chain. The girl appeared to be satisfied with her lot.

  With good conscience, Rosanna traversed the last leg of her journey to the falls. Her feet had wings, and she no longer had any doubts about Peter. He’d be there, waiting for her, they would reconcile, and emerge from the grotto, betrothed.

  Recalling Peter’s instructions, she descended without putting weight on the railing, yet used it as a balancing aid. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she took a deep breath and began crossing the stepping stones. That done, she proceeded down the viney path.

  At the large downed tree, she used her parasol to brace her scramble atop the horizontal tree. Resting for the briefest pause upon the massive trunk, she positioned the parasol a second time to steady her descent. Anticipation gave energy to her tentative pace, picking her way through vines, divots, and finding the dry spots to enable her to move ahead.<
br />
  Pushing aside the hawthorn bush and thrilling with the hope of an encounter of reconciliation with her love, Peter, she caught her breath when an unexpected person loomed out from behind the bush.

  “Halburt? What on earth…?”

  “Nothing to alarm about, Miss Cabot. I got your note to meet you here.”

  “My note? I sent you no note.” She held the parasol with a tight grip.

  “Oh, that note on the hall table wasn’t for me? Saying to meet you here in this secluded glen? Oh, my, what a mistake. But we’re here. Alone.” His hands reached out and grasped her by the shoulders.

  Squirming, she attempted to stomp on his feet, but he, guard up, danced out of her way, and her struggles to break free didn’t succeed.

  “You’ll be thoroughly compromised soon. Then the house, and the treasure it holds, will be mine by rights.” His grip on her shoulders became more painful.

  “Ow! You’re hurting me. Let me go.” She squirmed, then stilled, hoping to lull him into relaxing his vigilance. “My house holds no treasure. Why you obsess over that idea I’d like to know.”

  “The lost treasure of Honor’s Point has been the subject of talk in the neighborhood for a long time. One of the Winsteads’ maids caught wind of something years ago and told one of my servants. I’ve never forgotten the story.”

  She sneered. “Servants’ gossip?”

  “So you say. The lure of the treasure has led me to do many things….”

  “You! You were the intruder. I should have known, what with your fascination and insistence that I hold a treasure hunt. I saw you in the guest wing the night of the party. It’s clear why you were there even though that was off limits.”

  “I don’t deny it. But you’ll never convince anyone that it was me. Especially not after we’re married.” He emphasized these words with a shake of her shoulders.

  Rosanna wrenched out of his grasp but didn’t catch him off guard. He spread his arms to block her escape, then looped both arms around her, one at her back, one behind her knees and swept her off her feet.