The Forgotten Garden (51 page)

clutch of studies of the house and its inhabitants. His hands, his skills, his spirits had all been stunted.

He had made the wrong choice, he saw that now. If only he had heeded Rose’s requests and sought a new home for them after their marriage, perhaps things would have turned out differently. Perhaps they would be blissfully content, children at her feet, creative satisfaction at his fingertips.

Then again, perhaps all would be the same. He and she forced to endure similar torture in reduced circumstances. And that was the rub. How was a boy who’d tasted poverty ever expected to choose the poorer road?

And now Adeline, like Eve herself, had started whispering about a possible sitting with the King. And though he was tired of portraiture, though he hated himself for having forsaken so completely his passion, Nathaniel’s skin prickled at the mere suggestion.

He laid down his brush and rubbed at a paint stain on his thumb.

Was about to head in for luncheon when his portfolio snagged his attention. With a glance back towards the house, he pulled the secret sketches from within. He’d been working at them on and off for a fortnight now, ever since he’d come across Cousin Eliza’s fairytales amongst Rose’s things. Though they were written for children, magical stories of bravery and morality, they had made their way beneath his skin. The characters had seeped inside his mind and come alive, their simple wisdom a balm for his swirling mind, his ugly adult troubles.

He had found himself in moments of distraction scribbling lines that had turned themselves into a crone at a spinning wheel, the fairy queen with her long thick plait, the princess bird trapped in her golden cage.

And what began as scribbles he was now turning into sketches.

Darkening the shading, firming the lines, accentuating the facial features. He looked them over, tried not to notice the embossed parchment Rose had bought for him when they were newly married, tried not to think of happier times.

The sketches were not yet finished but he was pleased with them.

Indeed, it was the only project that seemed to bring him pleasure any more, grant him escape from the trial his life had become. With a quickening heart, Nathaniel clipped the pieces of parchment to the top 361

Bh1449M-PressProofs2.indd 361

6/5/08 2:40:04 PM

K a t e M o r t o n

of his easel. After luncheon he was going to allow himself to sketch, to draw without purpose as he had once done as a boy. Lord Mackelby’s gloomy eyes could wait.

c

Finally, with Mary’s help Rose was dressed. She had been sitting in her convalescent chair all morning but had decided eventually to venture from her room. When had she last left its four walls? Two days before?

Three? When she stood she almost fell. She was light-headed and weak-stomached, familiar sensations from her childhood. Back then Eliza had been able to hoist her spirits high again with fairy stories, and tales dragged back from the cove. If only the remedy for adult affliction were so simple.

It had been some time since Rose had seen Eliza. She spied her occasionally from the window, stalking through the garden or standing on the cliff top, a distant speck with long red hair streaming behind her. Once or twice Mary had come to the door with a message that Miss Eliza was downstairs requesting an audience, but Rose always said no. She loved her cousin, but the battle she was waging against grief and hope took all the energy she could muster. And Eliza was so spirited, so full of vitality, possibility, health. It was more than Rose could endure.

Weightless as a ghost, Rose drifted along the carpeted hall, hand resting on the dado rail to keep her balance. This afternoon, when Nathaniel returned from his meeting at Tremayne Hall, she would join him outside in the gazebo. It would be cold, of course, but she would have Mary wrap her warmly, Thomas could move the day bed and a blanket for her comfort. Nathaniel must be lonely out there, he would be glad to have her by his side once more. He would be able to sketch her reclining. Nathaniel did so like to draw her, and it was her duty as a wife to offer comfort to her husband.

Rose had almost reached the stairs when she heard voices floating along the draughty corridor.

‘She says she ain’t going to say nothing, that it’s no one’s business but hers.’ The words were punctuated by the striking of a broom’s head against the skirting board.

362

Bh1449M-PressProofs2.indd 362

6/5/08 2:40:04 PM

T h e F o r g o t t e n G a r d e n

‘The mistress won’t be pleased when she finds out.’

‘The mistress won’t find out.’

‘If she’s got eyes in her head she will. There’s not many can’t tell when a girl grows fat with child.’

Rose pressed a cold hand against her mouth, crept quietly along the hall, strained to hear further.

‘She says all the women in her family carry small. She’ll be able to hide it beneath her uniform.’

‘Let’s just hope for her sake she’s right, else she’ll be out on her ear.’

Rose arrived at the top of the stairs just in time to see Daisy disappearing into the servants’ hall. Sally was denied such fortunate reprieve.

The servant gasped and her cheeks flushed in most unbecoming blotches. ‘Sorry, ma’am.’ A fumbled curtsy, broomstick tangled in skirts.

‘I didn’t see you there.’

‘Of whom do you speak, Sally?’

The blotches spread to the tips of the girl’s ears.

‘Sally,’ said Rose, ‘I demand you answer me. Who is with child?’

‘Mary, ma’am.’ Little more than a whisper.

‘Mary?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Mary is with child?’

The girl nodded quickly, the lines of her face describing an urgent desire to disappear.

‘I see.’ A deep black hole had opened in the centre of Rose’s stomach and threatened to pull her inside out. That stupid girl with her hideous, cheap fertility. Flaunting it for all to see, cooing over Rose, telling her everything would be well, then laughing behind her back. And she unwed! Well, not in this house. Blackhurst Manor was a house of ancient and sturdy moral standing. It was up to Rose to make sure standards were observed.

c

Adeline ran the brush through her hair, stroke by stroke by stroke.

Mary was gone and though that left them woefully short-staffed for the coming weekend party, the girl’s absence would just have to be 363

Bh1449M-PressProofs2.indd 363

6/5/08 2:40:05 PM

K a t e M o r t o n

managed. While ordinarily Adeline didn’t encourage Rose to make decisions about staff without due consultation, these were exceptional circumstances and Mary quite the little sneak. An unmarried sneak, which made matters even more disgraceful. No, Rose had been right in her instincts, if not her method.

Poor dear Rose. Dr Matthews had been to see Adeline earlier in the week, had sat across from her in the morning room and adopted his low voice, the one he always donned in times of worry. Rose was not well, he had said (as if Adeline couldn’t see as much for herself), and he was gravely concerned.

‘Unfortunately, Lady Mountrachet, my fears are not limited to her apparent decline. There are . . .’ he coughed lightly into his neat fist,

‘. . . other things.’

‘Other things, Dr Matthews?’ Adeline handed him a cup of tea.

‘Emotional matters, Lady Mountrachet.’ He smiled primly and took a sip of tea. ‘When questioned on the physical aspects of her marriage, Mrs Walker confessed to what would be considered, in my professional opinion, an unhealthy tendency towards physicality.’

Adeline felt her lungs expand, she caught her breath and forced herself to exhale calmly. For want of something else to say or do, she stirred an additional lump of sugar into her own tea. Without meeting his eyes she bade Dr Matthews continue.

‘Be comforted, Lady Mountrachet. While certainly it’s a serious condition, your daughter is not alone. I can report a rather high incidence of heightened physicality among young ladies currently, and feel certain it is a condition she will outgrow. More concerning to me is my suspicion that her physical tendency is contributing to her repeated failures.’

Adeline cleared her throat. ‘Continue, Dr Matthews.’

‘It is my sincere medical opinion that your daughter must cease physical relations until her poor body has had time adequately to recover. For ’tis all related, Lady Mountrachet, ’tis all related.’

Adeline lifted her cup to her mouth and tasted the bitterness of fine china. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘The Lord works in mysterious ways. So too, through his design, the human body. It is reasonable to hypothesise that a young lady with heightened . . . appetites,’ he smiled apologetically, eyes narrowed, 364

Bh1449M-PressProofs2.indd 364

6/5/08 2:40:05 PM

T h e F o r g o t t e n G a r d e n

‘would present a less than ideal maternal model. The body knows such things, Lady Mountrachet.’

‘You are suggesting, Dr Matthews, that with fewer attempts, my daughter may have greater success?’

‘It is worth consideration, Lady Mountrachet. Not to mention the benefits such temperance will have for her general heath and wellbeing.

Picture, if you will, Lady Mountrachet, a windsock.’

Adeline arched her brows, wondered—not for the first time—why she had remained loyal to Dr Matthews all this time.

‘If a windsock is left suspended for years on end, without opportunity for rest or repair, the harsh winds will invariably tear holes in its fabric. So too, Lady Mountrachet, your daughter must be allowed time to recuperate. Must be shielded from the strong winds that threaten to rend her asunder.’

Windsocks aside, a certain sense had lurked behind Dr Matthews’s words. Rose was weak and unwell and without allowing herself proper time to heal could not be expected to make a full recovery. And yet her fierce longing for a child consumed her. Adeline had agonised over how best to convince her daughter to put her own health first, and finally she had realised it would be necessary to enlist Nathaniel in the attempt. Awkward though such a conversation promised to be, his obedience had been assured. Over the past twelve months, Nathaniel had learned to toe Adeline’s line, and now, with a royal portrait in the offing, there’d been little doubt he’d see things her way.

Although Adeline managed to keep a calm veneer, oh how she raged in private. Why should other young women be granted children when Rose must go without? Why should she be blighted when others were made strong? How much more would Rose’s weak body be forced to endure? In her darkest moments, Adeline wondered whether it was something she had done. Whether maybe God was punishing her. She had been too proud, gloated one too many times about Rose’s beauty, her fine manners, her sweet nature. For what worse punishment than to see a beloved child suffering?

And now, the thought of Mary, that ghastly healthy girl with her broad, beaming face, her nest of unkempt hair, that she should be carrying a child. An unwanted child when others who craved so deeply were continually denied. There was no justice. Little wonder Rose had 365

Bh1449M-PressProofs2.indd 365

6/5/08 2:40:05 PM

K a t e M o r t o n

snapped: it was her turn. The happy news, the child, should belong to Rose. Not Mary.

If only some way could be found to grant Rose a child without physical toll. Of course, it was impossible. Women would be lined up if such a method existed—

Adeline paused mid-stroke. Looked at her reflection but saw nothing. Her mind was elsewhere, contemplating the topsy-turvy image of a healthy girl with no maternal instinct, beside a delicate woman whose body failed her willing heart . . .

She laid down the brush. Pressed cold hands together in her lap.

Was it possible such contrariness might be righted?

It would not be easy. First, Rose must be convinced that it was for the best. Then there was the girl. She would need to be made to see that it was her duty. That she owed it to the Mountrachet family, after so many years of goodwill.

Difficult certainly. But not impossible.

Slowly Adeline stood. Laid the brush lightly on the dressing table. Mind still honing her idea, she started down the hall towards Rose’s room.

c

The key to grafting roses was the knife. Razor sharp it had to be, said Davies, sharp enough to give the hairs on your arm a clean shave.

Eliza had found him in the hothouse and he’d been only too happy to help her with the hybrid she was planning for her garden. He’d shown her where to make the cut, how to ensure that there were no splinters or bumps or imperfections that might prevent the scion binding to the new stock. In the end, she’d stayed all morning and helped with the repotting for spring. It was such a pleasure to sink one’s hands into the warm earth, to feel at one’s fingertips the possibilities of the new season.

When she left, Eliza walked the long way back. It was a cool day, thin clouds skimming quickly in the upper atmosphere, and she relished the chill breeze on her face after the muggy hothouse. Being so near, her thoughts turned as they always did to her cousin. Mary had reported that Rose was low in spirits lately, and though Eliza suspected she 366

Bh1449M-PressProofs2.indd 366

6/5/08 2:40:05 PM

T h e F o r g o t t e n G a r d e n

wouldn’t be granted admission, she couldn’t bear to come so close without trying. She knocked on the side door and waited until it opened.

‘Good day, Sally. I’ve come to see Rose.’

‘You can’t, Miss Eliza,’ said Sally, a sullen expression on her face.

‘Mrs Walker is otherwise engaged and unavailable to guests.’ The lines had the melody of those learned by rote.

‘Come now Sally,’ Eliza said, smile straining, ‘I hardly qualify as a guest. I’m sure if you just let Rose know that I am here—’

From the shadows, Aunt Adeline’s voice. ‘Sally is quite right. Mrs Walker is otherwise engaged.’ The dark hourglass drifted into view. ‘We are about to begin luncheon. If you care to leave a calling card, Sally will ensure that Mrs Walker knows you requested an audience.’

Sally’s head was bowed and her cheeks flushed. No doubt some fuss had occurred amongst the staff and Eliza would hear all about it from Mary later. Without Mary and her regular reports, Eliza would have little idea what went on at the house.