Summerset Abbey (9 page)

“That’ll teach you to crash my aeroplanes.” Douglas carefully arranged him on the sidesaddle. “I don’t know how you ladies ride like that.”

“We’re born to it,” she answered. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“Aye. I’ve known him since he was a boy. Now he works for me.”

“What do you do?” she asked to be polite, though she was more concerned with the injured pilot.

“I own a motorcar manufacturing plant in Kent, but I am experimenting with manufacturing aeroplanes. Jon was raised here so we brought some planes down to test them. The fields are so flat, you see.”

So his name was Jon. She tried it out in her mind.
Jon
. It felt as right as his hand reaching for hers.

Douglas stopped talking to conserve his breath for climbing back up the hill. They arrived at the top just as the sun set.

The pilot must have passed out from the ride, because he remained unconscious as the big man settled him into the back of his long, sleek Silver Ghost.

“Are you going to be able to make it home safely?” Douglas asked.

She nodded. “Summerset isn’t that far and the horse knows the way.”

“You live at Summerset?”

“Yes. My name is Rowena Buxton. Could you send word on how he is?”

The man nodded and cranked the engine to life. “I’m Douglas Dirkes. And of course. And thank you, miss, for your help.”

She watched the motorcar lurch down the rock-strewn road and wished she had been able to do more for him. Part of her yearned to follow them into town to make sure he was going to be okay. Deep in her bones, she felt she shouldn’t let this man disappear from her life. But she had a family of her own that was no doubt worried sick right now. Sighing, she mounted her horse and reined him toward home. Then she thought of Victoria and Prudence and the myriad problems she faced at Summerset and wished she could just ride on forever.

*   *   *

“The scones are ready to take out now, love, if you don’t mind. The towel is right over there.” Nanny Iris jerked her head in the general direction of the towel and Victoria hurried to comply.

This was the second visit she’d made to Nanny Iris’s cottage and she loved the home almost as much as she did Nanny Iris. The cottage stood by itself in the center of a small meadow, which was brown and barren now, but no doubt thick with wildflowers in the spring and summer. The thatching of the roof was the color of warm honey, contrasting with the red ivy winding up one wall. Two deep windows stood guard on either side of the door. A rail fence protected a small kitchen garden on one side, where Nanny Iris grew an abundance of herbs and vegetables. It looked like a fairy house, or perhaps the home of a banished princess waiting for her prince. She’d ignored Nanny Iris’s raucous laugh when she told her that the first time she’d come to visit.

Victoria sniffed the rich, buttery scent of the scones before setting the pan to cool on the stone countertop. Then she went to stand next to Nanny Iris, who was making an infusion out of oregano.

“What kind of oil do you use?” Victoria asked, watching with interest as Nanny Iris repeatedly dipped a small net bag of freshly cut oregano into a jar of warm oil.

“You can use olive oil or grape-seed oil. I’m using olive oil because it’s easier to come by.” After squeezing the oil out a few times, she pushed the bag down into the jar, added more oil, and screwed on the lid.

“And what is this used for again?”

Nanny Iris smiled. “I use it to bring in money from the pharmacist in town. But it’s commonly used to ease sore throats and can be helpful in settling digestive problems. Some people also use it to relieve aching muscles.” She wiped the jar off with a clean cloth and set it in a cupboard alongside several other jars. “This one will be ready to sell in a couple of weeks.”

Victoria laid the table for tea while Nanny Iris put away the herbs and concoctions they had been working on. Working with Nanny Iris in her warm, homey kitchen filled Victoria with the kind of simple satisfaction she hadn’t felt since she’d helped her father in his office. From her father she’d learned the genus and species and chemical properties of each plant. From Nanny Iris she learned the myths, legends, and the plants’ medicinal uses. Sometimes when infusing or mixing herbs together, she could almost feel her father by her side watching their progress.

Nanny Iris put the kettle on for tea. “How has your breathing been lately? Has the infusion I made you done any good?”

Victoria nodded. “I think so. Climbing stairs is easier and I run out of air less often. But it’s hard to tell because my episodes often decrease when I come to Summerset.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. The air is much better here than in the city. Does it ever worsen in June or July?”

Victoria nodded. “Yes, and then it’s worse out here than in the city.”

“Did your fancy doctors ever mention hay fever?”

“A German doctor did when we were vacationing in Davos once. But he also said the increase in episodes could be the thin air, too.”

“You are a special case, that’s for sure. I’m working on another infusion for you that may help even more. Now tell me, how is your sister doing?”

Victoria poured the tea while Nanny Iris set out the clotted cream and jam. They finally sat and Victoria closed her eyes while Nanny Iris said a quick grace.

Victoria spread her scone thickly with jam and cream and took a big bite. Not even Cook at Summerset could compete with Nanny Iris’s scones. “Rowena acts as if she were sleepwalking half the time. Prudence is being treated abominably and Rowena doesn’t do anything about it.”

“Remember, child, she’s grieving as much as you are. Grief does funny things to a person.”

Victoria nodded, her throat tightening. “I understand that, but we can’t just sit by and let this happen. And they won’t listen to me, that’s for sure.”

“Who won’t?”

“My aunt and uncle.”

“What makes you think they will listen to Rowena any more than they listen to you?”

Victoria took a sip of her tea and then shrugged. “I don’t know that they will, but it irks me that Rowena won’t even try. Prudence is family, for heaven’s sake!”

Nanny Iris refilled their teacups. “Why don’t you all just go back home to London?”

“Because Uncle wants us to stay with him. He doesn’t like the idea of us being in London alone. I think he’s afraid we’ll embarrass him somehow.”

“That boy always did worry about what other people thought too much,” Nanny Iris observed.

Victoria’s lips twitched at the thought of her uncle as a spoiled boy. “It’s not like I hate it at Summerset,” she said. “I love it there. If Prudence were being treated like a member of the family, I wouldn’t mind staying. But she’s treated like a servant just because her mother was our governess. She isn’t a servant, she’s like our sister. And the worst part is that there’s nothing I can do to help her . . . I feel completely powerless. It’s appalling.”

“It seems so. Why would the family even care? Well, I can see why your aunt would care. Acts like a queen, that one. And you say the girl’s mother is dead?”

“She died several years ago. Pru just stayed with us. My father loved her. We all do. Now she has to wear a uniform and act like she’s our lady’s maid and goodness only knows what they make her do when we’re not around.

“You actually might have known Pru’s mother,” Victoria continued. “She worked at the big house as a young girl.”

“Oh, really?” Nanny Iris set her teacup down. “Was she a local girl? What’s her name?”

“Alice Tate.”

Nanny Iris froze, shock flickering across the wrinkled planes of her face. Then the look swiftly vanished as if it were never there at all.

Victoria stiffened. “What? Do you know her?”

The old woman shook her head. “No. I’ve never heard of her.”

“But even if you didn’t know her personally, surely the name rings a bell—” Victoria persisted.

“Many people have worked at Summerset whom I’ve never met,” Nanny Iris cut in. “It’s not that unusual that I wouldn’t know her. Are you finished with that?”

Victoria nodded and the old woman leapt up and started putting their tea things away. Victoria knew without being told that she was being dismissed. She helped clear up the tea things and left after a warm hug and a promise to visit again soon.

Victoria wrapped a scarf more tightly around her neck. The frozen grass crunched under her feet as she crisscrossed a field over to the main road running back to Summerset.

What was that look all about? Victoria picked up her pace a bit as the sun sunk even further behind the hills. Nanny Iris
had
to know who Prudence’s mother was. She had left the family right after Victoria’s aunt Halpernia had died in an accident as a child. Victoria sensed that Nanny Iris didn’t want to talk about Halpernia. But then again, her own father hadn’t spoken about his baby sister either. No one did.

Victoria wondered about Prudence’s mother. Why had Elaine seemed to know about Prudence’s mother when she saw the photographs? Why did Nanny Iris lie about knowing her? Had there been some kind of scandal? Victoria’s blood quickened. Another secret? As a governess, Miss Tate had been warm and knowledgeable and almost like a mother to Victoria and Rowena. But unlike her own father, who treated Prudence as his own, Miss Tate always showed restraint in her affections.

The sun dipped lower and Victoria wanted to hurry, but was worried about having an episode if she did. When would she learn that she needed to take that detestable black box with her everywhere? She’d grown up with Rowena and Prudence worrying over her like a pair of banty hens, not wanting her to do this or that. Bugger that. If she didn’t get out of the house on occasion, she was going to go mad like the women in those old French novels. Prudence was off doing whatever it was that Mrs. Harper kept her busy doing, and Rowena was moping in her room, as always. Her sister now spent most of her time woolgathering or out riding.

Victoria spent her days reading until her eyes were blurry or gossiping with Elaine about people she barely knew. Miss Fister had sent her a refund of her money with a note apologizing, but she couldn’t teach how to be a good secretary by mail. So now she didn’t even have that, though she did have an idea that might work . . . and be an amusing secret, as well.

The truth was, she missed her father. She missed her life. No one did
anything
here. At home, Victoria helped with her father’s work, studied her secretarial lessons, or worked on her sketching. She and Rowena and Pru would attend plays and go out to dinner, and every Monday and Wednesday she walked down to Mrs. Humphry Ward’s settlement house and helped take care of the little ones while their mothers worked.

Prudence’s and Rowena’s days seemed equally busy. Prudence was always occupied with her writing, practicing her piano, volunteering at the hospital, or going to museums. Rowena attended suffrage meetings, read, or took long walks or rides in Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens, or played whatever sport she was currently taken with.

Here, the days were spent changing clothes, from morning dresses to afternoon dresses to dinner dresses. One needed a completely new ensemble if she wanted to walk or ride, and the rest of the time, Elaine told her with a derisive giggle, was filled with planning your next change.

Climbing over the stone fence, she reached the main road and resumed her walk.

She knew she could cut through the woods, but Nanny Iris had made her promise she wouldn’t go near them at night and to take a friend if she was going during the day. Victoria thought she was being a bit overcareful, but Nanny Iris had an old woman’s fear of ghosts.

Lights flashed behind her and the horn of a motorcar bellowed. She jumped out of the way as a car passed and then slowed. There were several laughing young men in the car and, alarmed, Victoria froze, ready to run if need be.

“Cousin Victoria! What are you doing out all by yourself? Mother will be having a fit, I’m sure.”

Victoria peered through the gloom. “Colin? Is that you?”

“The one and only. Scoot over, Sebastian, and make room, you big oaf. Get in, Vic. I’ll give you a ride.”

Unperturbed, a tall man climbed into the back with the other fellow. Victoria recognized Lord Billingsly. She hadn’t seen the other man before.

She opened the door to the sedate touring car and climbed in next to her cousin. “I didn’t even know you were coming. Do your parents know?”

“No, I’m surprising them for a long weekend. Sebastian and Kit in the back there are along for the ride. I actually came out for Elaine.”

“Elaine?”

“Yes. My poor little sis says it’s dreadfully dull out here in the sticks, so I try to come liven her up whenever I can take time off from school. Aren’t you bored?”

She paused, not wanting to offend. Guessing the reason for her hesitation, he laughed.

“Oh, you can tell me the truth. I know what it’s like.”

“Well, there does seem to be an inordinate amount of free time.”

He threw his head back and laughed. She’d always thought her cousin attractive, but that was when he’d been a boy. In the two years since she’d seen him, he had somehow turned into a man. Like Elaine’s, his hair was a warm brown and his eyes were blue, but his nicest feature was the smile that softened the firm jaw that was a male Buxton trademark. He reminded her of a man in a fairy tale—not the hero who won the princess, but the sidekick who made it all possible.

“Very judiciously put, cousin. Didn’t you turn eighteen last year? Why didn’t you have a coming-out ball?”

She shrugged. “Rowena and I didn’t want one and our father never pushed us.”

“Smart man. All that stuff is on its way out anyway.” He glanced over at her and his mouth tightened. “I’m really sorry about your father, Vic. He was truly one of a kind.”

She nodded, fighting that ever-present lump again.

Lord Billingsly leaned forward and stuck his head between the two of them. “You’d better stop talking and hurry. The sun is almost gone and we’ll have to stop and light the headlamps. And you know how much fun that always is.” His voice held a humorous edge and Victoria knew there was a story there.