Rosa looked at the uniform dress for a full minute before digging in her suitcases and put on black jeans instead. Be damned if she was going to be a serving girl. She would help Cecily and Vera in the kitchen and leave serving the Vanes to the three Js and the footman.
Vera was in a frazzled state when Rosa stepped into the warmth of the kitchen. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “Your mother’s had another dizzy spell, so I’ve sent her back to bed. She dead fainted right here in the kitchen. I have to organize the girls. Can you do the breakfast this morning? I’ve written out their preferences for you.” Vera handed her a small pile of index cards and then started chastising Jessie for being late and in a crumpled uniform.
Rosa twisted her hair up into a high bun. Cooking she could do. Food was methodical and meditative. It made sense to her in a world where nothing else did. She poached, fried, toasted and brewed, and the chaos of the kitchen fell away. She even resisted the urge to spit in Pearl’s buttermilk pancakes.
When the meals were arranged on trays, and the girls were gone, Rosa made herself a strong coffee and went to check on Cecily. She was ashen and sleeping shallowly. Pill containers sat beside her bed as well as iron and vitamin D supplements.
“Thank you for helping out this morning,” Cecily said as she roused. “I feel so silly.”
“You’re unwell, Mum. Everyone is allowed to get sick sometimes. After all, you’re only human,” Rosa said soothingly. “Vera will keep an eye on things, and I’ll help clean out some rooms and steer clear of the Vanes.”
“Be nice, Rosa, they don’t have much to do with normal folk. Mr. Balthasar is a nice man. Did he give you your bag of things last night?”
“Yes, he did, and he got all weird about me not going out on the grounds after eight at night, like I was some silly teenager who would try to run away at midnight.” Rosa gave an unladylike snort, “As if there’s anything to run away to in a hundred kilometers of here.”
“I’m sure he meant well. Honestly, Rosa, you’re so prejudiced against them that anything they do or say you’ll take offense to,” Cecily huffed. “Perhaps if you change your attitude, they will change theirs.”
“I doubt it. You know you really should take some days off and get a doctor to have a proper look at you,” suggested Rosa, trying to steer the conversation away from her attitude.
“It’s only a bit of low blood pressure. I’ll get Vera to cook me a steak, and I’ll be fine.”
“Mum, seriously if you let this get any worse I’ll go to Eli and get him to send you whether you want it or not.”
“You’re being dramatic. I’ll be fine. You should go get started on the guest rooms. I don’t know when guests will get here and…”
“I’ll take care of it. You just stay here, and I’ll check in on you later,” Rosa said as she backed out of the room.
Rosa got Vera to allocate her a room to clean, and armed with a bucket of supplies, she hurried up the servant’s passages. At least if she were using them, she wouldn’t have to worry about encountering the Vanes or their never ending stream of appointments.
The first room was on the third floor in the northern wing of the house. It was quiet and tucked away. Rosa put her headphones in and turned her angry classical music playlist up loud. The suite had a sitting room, bedroom, and small bathroom, so she set about opening the curtains and windows, lifting off sheets and neatening the furniture placement. The oak four poster bed had been stripped of its hangings, and as she polished the elaborate headboard and posts, she tried not to think of the generations of Vanes who’d had sex on it.
It took her hours to dust the high bookshelves, ornamental vases, busts and small statues. The first painting she uncovered was done in heavy oils, and it featured a Greek Cupid and Psyche. It had no signature, but it was beautiful with a heavy use of light and dark popular with the Baroque movement. Rosa lightly dusted the grooves of the heavy gilt frame but wasn’t game to touch the canvas. Knowing her luck, it would be a lost Masterwork, and Eli would crucify her.
Rosa moved along the wall, covers revealing brilliant still lives and impressionist works. Pulling over a footstool, she reached up to take the last covering off a painting above the fireplace and nearly fell backward in surprise. It was another Baroque style work, but it was a portrait of Balthasar. He looked every inch the Regency Lord with each fold and line of the jacket, neckcloth, and sheen of silk rendered with an alarming perfection.
“Balthasar Senior, I presume,” she said as she worked on the frame. His hair curled in dark locks around his shoulders, the familiar dark eyes looking down at her. She was still staring when someone touched her shoulder, and she toppled backward in fright. Saul Vane managed to steady her and help her down.
“You scared the bleeding life out of me,” she accused as she pulled out her headphones.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he laughed loudly. “I could hear Bach from the hallway and thought I’d investigate where it was coming from. I see you’ve been recruited for dusting duty.”
“Someone has to do it,” Rosa said and took a swig from her water bottle. “I don’t mind. It’s good work for thinking. Though finding that under the cloth was a bit unnerving.”
“Yes, old Balthasar, the namesake of course,” Saul said as he frowned identically as the figure in the painting, placing one hand on the mantelpiece in a classic pose. “You can tell where my brother inherited his snobby disposition and the belief he’s the most broodingly handsome Vane of all.”
“Brotherly affection at its finest,” Rosa giggled at the faces he began to pull.
“Naturally,” Saul straightened. “How are you coping with being back?”
“Fine,” she lied. “It’s good to be on the old grounds and try to remember childhood.”
“Come now, be honest. You must be bored out of your brain,” Saul folded his arms. “This place is positively backward at times.”
“At least the scenery is nice,” Rosa said as she picked up her bucket of cleaning gear.
“It is isn’t it?” he said, looking her over. She ignored him and collected the remainder of her used cloths. “Look, Rosa, if you ever feel like getting away from here let me know. I have a load of cars that I don’t drive as much as I should, and I need a partner in crime. Come on Rosa Wylt, we could disappear into the sunset right now.”
She smiled as politely as she could manage and made for the doorway. “Thanks for the nice offer. Maybe try it out on the other servants and see if it works. I’ll see you around, Mr. Vane.”
“You cut me to the quick,” he said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically.
“I’m sure you will recover.” She didn’t look back, but she felt his eyes burning into the back of her head.
Rosa moved quietly down a staircase and voices rose up to meet her. Balthasar and Eli were arguing about “alliances” and “fealty from the families.” She did her best not to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t avoid meeting Pearl in the hallway where she was peeking through a crack in an office door. With uncanny timing, the stairs creaked, and Pearl turned quickly. Her perfectly made up face rearranged itself from rage to surprise.
“Good afternoon, Rosa, what have you been doing up there?” Pearl asked with a smile that seemed out of place with the glare in her pale eyes.
“Cleaning,” she replied warily. “Have you seen Vera?”
“Oh, just a second ago in the library cleaning up after one of Eli’s meetings,” she replied.
“Thanks,” Rosa made to move passed her, but Pearl blocked her way.
“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I am the first to admit I can be a frightful beast in the mornings. Do over?”
“Sure,” Rosa said with a bright smile and sidestepped her. She is afraid you will rat her out to Eli. If it meant Pearl would leave her alone, then keeping her snooping a secret would be worth it.
“I’ve heard some good feedback from the family today about your breakfast,” Vera said cheerfully
when Rosa made it to the kitchen. “It’s good to know they taught you something in that toff school.”
“I am sensing a but…”
“No buts, I’m just saying it’s nice to have a pair of extra cooking hands around here.”
“How’s Cecily?” Rosa asked as she stirred the marinade on the stove to stop it from burning.
“Sleeping, last time I checked.” Vera sat down at the bench and started to peel a bag of apples. “Don’t be too hard on her, Rosa. She’s missed having you about.”
“She showed it by coming to visit me all those times while I was living in London,” Rosa answered sarcastically. “Oh, wait, she didn’t.”
“Let me tell you straight, Rosamund Wylt. Your mother loves you more than any person in the world. She might not have been there for you as much as you would’ve liked, but that isn’t all her fault. Once your Da passed away, she had a lot of pressure to deal with as well as her grief. If you’d stayed, you’d be whining about never being allowed to go to the city or having your freedom.” Vera put her knife down, “The point I’m trying to make is she wanted to give you a chance at life beyond this place hidden away from the world.”
“I know, I know. It’s too late to hold it against Cecily now anyway. What’s done is done. Now, what kind of wine do you want in this marinade?”
By the time dinner was cooked and sent up, Rosa was busting to get out of the mansion and into her cottage. The sun was down, so she hurried across the wet grass, her warm breath sending plumes of mist into the air. She heard the whinny of a horse and quickly ducked behind a tree to hide as Balthasar rode past. She had about all she could handle of the Vanes for the day. She didn’t feel like making any small talk with him or having to explain the bottle of wine hidden under her shirt.
Inside the cottage, Rosa stoked both fires high before pouring herself a large glass of red wine and taking a long shower. Between her mother’s sickness, Vera’s lecture, and the cornering by Saul and Pearl, her mind was churning. She tried to think of the beautiful paintings she had seen, but that made her think of Balthasar Senior’s intense, sexy expression. She wondered if he had a Wylt looking after him as well, before she remembered there was a way to find out.
Inspired, Rosa dressed in warm pajamas and a thick dressing gown before picking up her bottle of wine. She climbed upstairs into the attic and switched on a light. She lifted random lids and found her family photos, selecting one of her, Cecily, and Harold, to take downstairs. They were standing in the front parklands, the ominous manor house behind them. Her father had an easy smile and so did Cecily back then. Rosa drank more wine and set the picture down.
The lights of a car flickered through the small window, drawing her attention to the wooden chest underneath it. Even from the other side of the room, she could see the faint imprint of the V insignia.
“Hello, I don’t think you should be up here,” Rosa told it as she shuffled over. She touched the first leather belt strap that bound it shut and hesitated. It belonged to the Vanes, one of them through the centuries anyway. Did she dare invade their privacy? She absolutely did.
Rosa struggled with the cracked, stiff leather straps but they soon gave one after the other. With considerable effort, and the help of a screwdriver retrieved from the kitchen, the heavy lid cracked and the chest opened. It was filled with piles of bound letters, pressed flowers, notebooks, a woman’s lace glove, books, and portraits.
“What do we have here?” Rosa opened a letter that was written in an elegant hand and scanned the date, 1813. It was signed eternally yours, B. She thought of the portrait inside the house. She refolded it and put it back before selecting another and then another. To my Darling Jane, My beautiful Jane, Jane the Keeper of my Heart, Jane, Jane…
They were love letters. At least fifty of them bound together in neat parcels. She selected another pile wrapped in a scrap of lace. They were written in a neat hand, and all addressed to Balthasar Senior. The hair on the back of Rosa’s neck lifted. She knew reading them was an invasion of privacy.
But what do the dead care? A voice in her head cajoled. She knew she shouldn’t. She also knew that no one was going to stop her.
Chapter Five – Echoes of Lovers
Gwaed Lyn 1813
Jane,
There was a magnificent storm here last night. It reminded me much of you and the night we first met. I don’t think any woman has dressed me down with her words as much as you did. My sister delighted in it more that you could know. Never before has she seen her proud brother reduced to such a scolded apologetic mess- her exact words.
I say that the storm reminds me of you, but I am fooling myself. Everything reminds me of you. With each passing day, it steadily grows worse until I fear that I will be a raving mad man screaming your name out until they come and put me in an asylum. You would have to visit me there. It would be like something out of those Radcliffe novels you enjoy so much. If nothing else, your high standing amongst the ladies of Penrith would be ruined by the scandal that you made a man so in love with you that you drove him to a madhouse.
With certain insanity eminent,
Balthasar.
Penrith 1813
My dramatic Balthasar,
Madness you say! It would be most inconvenient for a lady if the object of her affections went mad. What would she do with all the hopes and dreams she had constructed in her mind? I would have to go to all the trouble to attract a new suitor, if such a brave man could be found, for I am sure my reputation would precede me greatly by this stage, and new suitors are so formal and bothersome. You say you love me but how could you inconvenience me like this? Keep your madness in check, and I will keep my patience the same.
It has cheered me greatly to have your sister here visiting. She is the most lovely and engaging of all my friends. I can tell you quite confidently that there is many a heart broken man in our society that longs for your sister to look his way. Do not worry; I will keep a close eye on all of them to ensure that they treat her like the beautiful princess she is.
With affection,
Your Jane.
Gwaed Lyn 1813
My dear Jane,
I am sorry that I have not been able to come as promised. Father keeps me busy with his never-ending stream of requests. He paces the library like a Roman Patrician in the Senate lecturing me on what it means to be a great leader. He doesn’t seem to care that it isn’t something I long for or care about. There are other siblings that would do the job admirably, but I am his first son, and he is adamant. I don’t know how to politely tell him if I were to take over as leader that would surely mean he would be dead. Not an encouraging thought. He rules his companies with an absolute iron-fisted certainty. The business leaders in London unite under him and those that speak out soon lose their ability to speak at all. He alone holds the peace some days.
You have no idea the desire that burns in me to be done with it. I would take you away like a rogue in the middle of the night if I thought we could escape him and his agents. I am so unfair to you. There are times when I wish you would do as your mother says; go to London, find a suitable husband that will provide for you, be settled. The thought of it guts me, but if it meant your happiness, I would endure it.
Think on it, consider it.
Balthasar.
Penrith 1813
Balthasar,
What kind of woman do you take me for? One that would give her heart to one man and her body and soul to another for the sake of the security of a rich husband? I have thought about it, my love, and I would think you a fool and call you as such if I didn’t know your heart and motivations were in the right place. I do long to see you, but I know your situation. Your father, once he has done with molding you into a younger and far handsomer man than himself, will look to you to find yourself a decent wife. I come from money and a good family with a reputable name. What objection could he have? None. Be patient as I must be. Endure. I long to be by your side forever and I would have
you or none at all.
Your Jane.
***
Rosa woke on the couch the following morning with a blanket of old letters on top of her. She had sworn that she would only read a few, but once she started, she found herself incapable of stopping. As Rosa tried to sit up a wave of nausea threatened to push her back down. The empty wine bottle lay on the floor beside the couch.
“Not a good idea, Rosa,” she said aloud as she gathered up the letters. They were all written with such a familiarity and affection. Despite the wine encouraging her to keep reading at the time, she now felt like she had witnessed something so intensely private that she should be ashamed of her snooping.
People do not love like that anymore, she reflected as she showered and got dressed. Her adventures with the opposite sex had been a disappointment. There was never that all-consuming passion for the other person. She had boyfriends, even liked a few of them. They’d all ended with either her or them not being enough. They were distractions from study, someone to drink and hang out with. The way Balthasar and Jane had written to each other, you could feel that being apart from each other was physically and emotionally distressing for them.
It is in your eyes that I truly know myself, and only the touch of your hand over my heart makes it feel like it is beating… the line floated through all other thoughts. Rosa felt something spark deep inside of her and it wasn’t what she expected. It was loneliness and a longing that she had never felt before. Don’t fall in love with a dead guy, Rosa. That’s right up there with your Rochester crush. She looked at her phone and swore at the time. It was midday; Cecily was going to be furious.
Wylt: Book One The Blood Lake Chronicles Page 4
