Frank, slow by nature, was a workman unused to prodding shocked, silent men. He was near the end of his patience and pacing the floor nervously when Stephen came into the room.
"Did you find out what happened?" Stephen asked, and then looked toward the hearth of the shadow-ridden room and saw Peter gazing into the blackness of the dead ash fire. "It's true then?"
"It's true. Both of them are dead. Peter brought Rosalind here."
Stephen s face softened in compassion. He no longer listened to Frank talking, but went to Peter s side, hunching down on the hearth rug. Neither said anything and Frank left the room. Meg came home while Stephen was with Peter. "TO go to him. Let me see my boy!" she cried after Anna told her what had happened.
"Let Stephen tend to him, Mother Berean. Peter is so dazed I don't believe he knows what is going on," "But he's my son."
"He is no one's son right now. Leave him to Stephen. He seems to take comfort from Stephen." "But . . ." Meg began anxiously. "Mother Berean—Natalie . . . think of Natalie. She has not been told yet. She doesn't know anything. We thought it best to wait for you, but we must hurry. Both the scullery maid and the cook were here and saw everything. It will be all over the village before long. We don't want her hearing from someone else." Meg sat down unsteadily. "Natalie," she breathed. "Dear merciful Lord, what will come of my precious little Natalie?"
"Albert's mother must be told as well."
Meg nodded. She went first to the study. She laid
her hand on Peter s white-blond hair, but he made no response. He clung as he had been to Stephen. She went upstairs to Anna.
"Gather up Jamie's things. Well take him with us. Callie can't manage everything here/* "But do you think we should?" "Yes. There will be two of us there, and the Foxes have servants to help us. We cant leave it all on Callie. And I don't want the child out of my sight for a moment now," she said firmly.
Marsh drove them to the Foxe house. All the rooms were lighted. Inside Mrs. Foxe was annoyed and irritable that Albert was late for supper. The Foxe servants knew what had happened, but none had the coin-age to tell their mistress. Mrs. Foxe knew only that Rosalind Hawkes had returned to the Berean farm, and since her arrival Albert had been unreliable and short-tempered with Natalie and herself.
As Meg and Anna and Jamie were ushered into the house by the butler, Mrs. Foxe stood arrogant and regal at the end of her hallway.
Meg bustled past her without greeting, leaving to Anna the unpleasant task of telling Mrs. Foxe her son was dead. She went straight to Natalie's room, clutching Jamie against her.
Natalie was in her bed, surrounded by billows of white pillows and lace. Her face was like a cameo framed by the dark clouds of her hair. "Hello, Mama," she said sweetly. "I didn't know you were coming to visit this evening."
Meg stopped short Natalie smiled. "Oh, you brought Jamie to see me too. What a nice surprise. I hope Albert comes in soon. I'd like him to see me holding a baby."
Meg could hardly speak. She cleared her throat and concentrated on the lacy cuffs of her daughter's night-
dress. "Nattie, I haven't come here for a visit exactlv." "Why then?" Natalie asked, her head cocked to one side.
"Natalie . . ."
She frowned. "Did you come because vou knew I didn't feel well today, Mama? But how did you know? The doctor said I had overdone yesterday. Did he stop by to see you too? There's nothing he's keeping hidden from me, is there. Mama?"
"I haven't seen the doctor, Natalie. I didn't know anything about your feeling unwell. Natalie . . ."
"I've been having horrible dreams, Mama. Awful, terrible dreams. Sinful dreams."
Meg squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "Oh, Nattie," she cried. She got up hastily, closed the door, and put Jamie on the floor to scoot about
"Mama, I'm so afraid something is eoino; to happen to Albert. I feel it all around me. I see it when I close my eyes. Mama . . . !"
Meg darted awkwardly to Natalie's side, sidestepping Jamie. Crying and kissing Natalie, she smoothed the girl's hair. "It will be all right now, 111 be right by your side."
Natalie frowned, touching her head as though it hurt. "What is it, Mama? What is wrong with me? Why do I see these terrible things? Nothing really happened today, did it, Mama?"
"Albert is dead, Natalie," Meg whispered, wiping the tears from her face.
"Oh, no." Natalie smiled. "Albert isn't dead Albert is free. Rosalind can never take him from me now."
Meg sobbed convulsively, blowing her nose with fury. "Lie back, Natalie dear. Rest now. It will be all right. Somehow it will be all right."
Natalie did as she was told, the sweet smile still on
her face. "I always feel better when you are here, Mama. I think I can sleep now. You won't leave?"
"No, Nattie. I'll stay right here as long as you need me."
Within minutes Natalie's eyes closed. She slept with a look of peaceful innocence on her face.
Meg gathered up Jamie, pushed aside Natalie's shoes, which he had pulled from the cupboard, and went downstairs to find Anna alone in the parlor. Anna jumped to her feet as soon as Meg came in.
"Mrs. Foxe is prostrate. She keeled over when I told her about Albert. They've sent for Doctor Potts. He should be here any time now. How is Natalie? How did she take it?"
Meg shook her head. "I don't believe she even understood what I was saying. She hasn't been feeling well today, but she is sleeping like a baby now. Watch Jamie for a minute, Anna. I am going to find the housekeeper. Jamie is hungry and tired and well all be staying the night. If Doctor Potts comes before I've returned, tell him to look in on Natalie as well as Mrs. Foxe."
It was more than an hour before Stephen emerged from the now darkened study at the Berean farm. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face sad and drawn. He went to the kitchen where he knew he would find Frank.
Callie had taken over in the kitchen after cook had screamed herself into a state of exhaustion and been sent home. She handed Stephen a cup of broth and some bread and cheese. He pushed the bread and cheese away, but drank the broth. Frank sat at the table weary and preoccupied. Stephen gathered himself and moved his chair closer to Frank's.
"I wasn't sure what to make of this whole thing, so
when you sent John after me, I told him to go into town tonight. He's to bring Albert's deputy sometime late tomorrow. I gave him all the money I had with me and told him to have a night on the town. I doubt that hell be in any hurry to tell the law anything given natural reluctance and the liquor."
"We've got some time then. Bless you, Stevie. Did Peter tell you anything?"
"There wasn't much to tell. He went to fix the roof. He heard the shots as we did. The cottage door was open, so he went in to look." Stephen stopped, anger and sadness mingled on his face. "Rosalind was there with Albert. At first he didn't realize what happened. He says he doesn't know what he did then. Later he carried her here to the house."
"Then he says he didn't do it"
"God, yes, Frank! Where's your head to ask a question like that? My God, can you imagine how he felt? He loves her. Peter wouldn't hurt anyone no matter what. You know that"
"Who then?"
"I don't know. Anyone! But not Peter. Never him."
Callie listened and prepared a tray for Peter as she had for Stephen and Frank. She didn't expect that he would eat anything, but he shouldn't be left alone as though no one cared. Neither Frank nor Stephen paid any attention to her as she moved quietly from the kitchen.
The study was in darkness when she entered, except for the slice of moonlight that cut across the carpet where the drapes were not completely drawn.
The three of them—Callie, Stephen, and Peter—met more often than not in silence, each sensing the attention of the others without the need of words. She went to Peter's side as Stephen had, kneeling close to him.
He reached out, touching her hair. Slowly he low-
ered himself to the floor beside her. "Rosalind," he whispered into the
darkness. Callie remained quiet and listened to the sounds of tears spilled in darkness. When he reached for her, murmuring his wife's name, she put her arms around him, answering the seeking warmth of his lips with that of her own. She rocked him as she did his son, with his head on her breast, humming to him in a low throaty voice. Slowly she felt the tautness leave his body. She brushed the hair from his face and wiped away the moisture from his eyes.
Much later Stephen found her there, Peter cradled in her arms as she continued to rock him.
"Build the fire, Stephen. He's asleep. Well get blankets and pillows and leave him here for the night/'
After Meg had made certain Jamie would be cared for and that she and Anna had a place to sleep, she returned to the Foxes' parlor. She and Anna both sat rigidly as if waiting for something. Neither knew what it was they expected, but neither was prepared when the knife-edged screams came from Natalie's room and cut through the silence of the house.
Meg, straining and clutching at her thudding chest, ran the long flight of curving stairs to her daughter.
"Mama!* Natalie shrilled, her voice quivering and high. Her eyes were wild and unfocused. She wasn't truly awake, but trapped in some nightmare. "Mama! Where are you? Albert! Albert!"
Meg, gasping, ran to Natalie, clutching her against herself. "Nattie, I'm here. I'm here, my loved one. I'm right here. You're safe now."
Natalie thrashed and fought. "Mama! Stop her, Mama! She killed him! I knew it. I knew! Damn her! Damn her! Mama! Where are you? Albert!" she screamed, breaking Meg's hold on her. She leapt from
the bed, looking wildly around the room, "Albertr She turned, running from her bedroom.
"Stop her!" Meg cried. The servants of the Foxe household stood immobilized at the foot of the gracefully curving stairs and listened to Natalie's screaming laughter as they watched her run frantically back and forth across the upper hall.
"Help me!" Meg shouted as time after time she reached for Natalie, only to have her break free again.
Anna came running from the other end of the hall where she had gone to make certain Jamie was all right
"Stop her, Anna. Stop her before she hurts herself."
Anna stood mulishly at one end of the hall, waiting for Natalie to turn and run toward her.
Natalie hesitated, poised midway between Anna and Meg. Her hair was disheveled, a black aura encircling her head. She spread her arms wide, looking straight at Anna. Her fingers bent slowly to make talons of her hands. She grimaced, her teeth bared.
"Rosalind!" she shrieked, and charged Anna.
Both Anna and Natalie fell with the impact of Nat-talie's hurtling body. Stunned, Anna lay still for a moment Her cheeks stung just below her eyes, where Natalie had clawed her. She didn't know what had happened for a moment; then Meg was standing over her trying to lift Natalie's inert weight from her.
"Get up here, you bloody fools!" Meg yelled to the servants still standing safely below, "Get her to her room."
Slowly the butler detached himself from the others and came up the stairs to carry Natalie, limp and unconscious, back to her bed.
She lost her baby that night
The Berean house was quiet. Stephen took Callie's hand. Together they went out into a star-studded night. He took her to the top of his mountain. They sat close together on a large boulder overlooking,the farm, the house, and the fields.
"I hate her tonight," Stephen said, looking up into the velvety heavens. "You shouldn't hate the dead, but I do tonight." "You hate Peter being hurt," Callie replied flatly. "Do you believe in God, Callie?" "Yes."
"Things like this wouldn't happen if there were a God."
"God didn't do this." "He let it happen."
"Someone made it happen," she said harshly, then added in a choked voice, "and I know who it was."
Stephen said nothing, but removed his hand from hers.
She looked at him in the darkness. "You do too, don't you, Stephen?" "I only know who didn't do it." 'It was Natalie," she said, unwilling to leave it unsaid between them. "Don't say that, Callie." "Sometime it has to be said."
"It could have been anyone—a poacher. A highwayman. An accident."
"What's the point in hiding from it, Stephen? It was Peter or it was Natalie, and we both know Peter didn't-"
"Callie, please . . . don't ask me ... he turned completely from her, then got up and walked several feet away until she could barely see him in the faint moonlight. "Don't you see?" he said finally. "I can't
choose between my brother and my sister. There must be someone else."
She got up and walked to him. She slipped her hand into his and stood looking into the starry darkness. "What is going to happen to us, Stephen?"
Chapter 26
The night's sleep did Frank no good for there was no rest in it. His world was upside down and moving too swiftly for him to comprehend or cope with it. Anna was not there to warm his bed or see to it that he had warm water to bathe in that morning. His clothes were not laid out for him.
It would have been one thing for Peter to have killed Rosalind in a fit of jealous rage. A man could understand that, and even the law provided a certain latitude where unfaithful wives were concerned. But Albert was the magistrate of the parish. His family was important and well-respected. An arrest in such a case would be fast, and the trial a formality.
He fumbled about his bedroom, unaccustomed to dealing with anything that did not grow on a vine. It was regrettable he had made such a hasty statement to Anna about spiriting Peter out of the country. Words spoken in the heat of the moment were mostly regrettable in the end. And he did regret these. He could not help Peter escape. My God, it wasn't as if his brother were innocent. And Frank had his own reputation to consider. He'd be ruined. At least it had
been Anna and not the others to whom he had said it In the cold dawning light of day, she too would see that it was obvious he couldn't risk that sort of impetuosity. With all the sensational circumstances, word of Albert's demise would spread through the parish like flame in tinder.
He looked into the study when he came downstairs. Peter still slept in his makeshift bed by the hearth. He stared at his brother for a long time. In a sense it was better to say good-bye like this, without words or emotions to clutter up what must be. There was no point in playing the hypocrite. He and Peter had never lost any love over each other. Frank walked closer to where Peter slept. He was sorry it had happened here in Kent, but he had little sympathy for his brother. To Frank, Rosalind wasn't worth sorrow, so it didn't occur to him that Peter might mourn her. Aside from the hideous scandal and difficulty the murder would cause both him and the Berean name, Frank might have been able to dismiss the whole incident from his mind.
He went to his fields. They would always be there, demanding of him with the passing seasons only that which he was capable of giving.
Albert's mother recovered sufficiently from her shock and grief to rise from her bed and give two orders. Meg, Anna, Natalie, and Jamie must leave her house immediately. She had been appalled at Natalie's shocking tantrum. No matter how she stretched her mind, Natalie's method of grief did not fit any proper form of mourning she knew.
"That girl is deranged. You tricked us . • . you duped my poor, darling Albert into marrying her when you knew she wasn't right. It is you, Meg Berean, you and that entire family of yours that is re-
sponsible for my son s death. He always said you were a nest of treasonous revolutionaries. There has been trouble since the first day you took ownership of the hop garden. If it is the last act of my life, 111 see that the Bereans pay for this!"
Meg held her tongue and packed Natalie's things. They went back to Gardenhill House.
Mrs. Foxe's second order was a demand for the immediate arrest of the "harlot's keeper" for the murder of her son. The deputy magistrate stayed at the Foxe house to gather all the information and gossip he could. That afternoon, he and three yeomen came to the farm for Peter.
Callie stood dumb
founded and helpless as they entered the house to arrest him. Stephen stood by her side. "Stephen, we must do something. Tell them it was Natalie. Tell them!"
"Callie, no! Peter has made me promise not to say anything!"
T[ don't care what he said. He doesn't even fully realize what's happened yet!"
"He knows enough to know what will happen to Natalie if she is taken."
"I won't let him do it! I won't! It's wrong." She moved to the kitchen, watching in disbelief as Peter walked between the yeomen to the cart that would take him to prison. "There must be something we can do," she whispered.
Peter heard her and turned to look at her. He smiled for the first time since he had found Rosalind. He watched Callie's face and remembered how she had ridden out to find him the night of the Swing riots, and understood that she wanted to save him again this afternoon. He touched her cheek gently. "You can't do it this time, little one." He paused for a moment and then went on. "And I don't want you to try, Callie. It
can only make things worse and hurt more people. There's been enough of that" He climbed into the cart.
"Stephen!" Callie cried and ran to him, burying her face in his coat. "Don't let them take him. Please! Do something, but don't let him do this!"
"We can't stop them, Callie. But we'll do something. Well find someone who knows what happened. Someone must know Peter didn't do this, and I promise you, Callie, even if I find that it was Natalie ... if ... if there is evidence, 111 . . . report it."
Callie watched as the cart rumbled down the far road with Peter in it. "There'll be no witnesses. Peter says no one was around."
"Peter doesn't know what he's saying. Well have to think for him. Right now all he can think about is protecting Natalie. He thinks she did it too, and he's got some idea that he is the cause of it Callie, he's wrong, and somehow 111 prove it Believe me, Callie. You can't fall apart now. He needs you."
She looked into Stephen s eyes, her own brimming with unshed tears. "Stephen, I'm so frightened."
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