The Mistress of Trevelyan (37 page)

"They are not big plants yet," Robert said, stamping his foot. "They are still babies. How can they be all growed up when I'm not?"

Smiling, I brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Plants grow much faster than people do. They have to."

He scrunched his brow. "Why?" he asked, not liking this situation one bit.

"Because God made them that way. Every drop of dew and rain along with every beam of sunshine is sent to make plants grow fast so that people will have food to eat. It is His way of taking care of you. And you have to be wise about how you treat His gifts. Some plants are meant to live a long time, like trees, and other plants, like these herbs, are meant to die when winter comes."

"Does it hurt them to die like it hurts us?"

"No. Plants do not have feelings."

He took a deep breath. "So even if I keep these plants and take good care of them, they will die when winter comes."

"Yes."

Robert squatted down and brushed his fingers over the green leaves. "I do not want it to be that way."

"I know" I said, putting my arm around him. "Life rarely is exactly the way we want it to be. Part of growing up is learning to accept that and doing the best we can anyway."

"When I get as big as my father, can I make life the way I want it?"

"Not even then." I didn't have the heart to tell Robert that it was even worse when you were older. "But for now you are going to have to decide to do the best you can."

"You are sure I can't make the plants live forever?"

"I'm sure. It will be best to pick them in a few weeks, then plant more."

He sighed. "I will pick them, but only because it is the best thing to do. Can we plant a tree next time? One that I can keep for my very own always?"

"Yes," I said softly, wanting to make Robert my own and watch him grow into a man. But as with the sweet rose of Benedict's touch, I knew that someday I'd have to hold the bitter thorn of saying good-bye. I was not born to Benedict’s world nor he to mine. I knew before I ever went to him that marriage was not something he could give to me, and hearing him say so last night came as no surprise.

I shook off my sadness, determined to let go of the thorns of my situation, and glanced over at Justin. He was alone; much as I sensed his father was alone. They were very much alike.

"Justin, why don't you come help Robert and me water the garden, and then we will have some special drawing time later for your science book."

Justin looked up and frowned, clearly not wanting to be a part of the project. It seemed to me that the step forward he had made by hugging Robert and going with us on the outing to town had resulted in him taking two steps back. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with revealing his fears, or with the affection he'd expressed to Robert.

He walked over to where we stood, but he didn't look at the plants. He looked at me, and he was angry. "When are you going to leave?"

I blinked, squatting down to meet his eyes. Robert grabbed my skirt, as if my departure was within the next moment. "I have no plans to leave here. I will stay and teach as long as your father allows me to do so. Why do you ask such a question?"

"Nurse Maria told Grandmama that you had to leave before it was too late."

"When did you hear her say that?" I wouldn't have been surprised if Justin had said that it was his grandmother who'd made the comment. That Maria had been the speaker seemed far past the boundaries of propriety. Why would she tell Benedict's mother that?
But what you were going to say to Benedict about Maria wasn't so different
, an inner voice taunted. Had Maria instinctively known that I thought she was unfit to care for Justin and Robert, given the tender state of their situation? I shook off the thought to focus on Justin's reply.

"When I went back inside to get my science book just a little while ago. If you are going to leave ever, I want you to leave now. I don't want you here anymore." Tears filled Justin's eyes, but his chin was set to a stony angle. He was so much like his father that my heart ached.

"Miss Wovellllll," Robert wailed, burying his face into my skirts.

Heedless of the dirt, I sat on the ground and pulled Robert into my arms. Then I held my hand out to Justin. "Come sit with me, and we will talk about this."

He took my hand. I could feel him trembling, and my insides twisted painfully. I had to blink back tears just so I could see. I pulled Justin down onto my lap, too. He didn't jerk away, so I drew a deep breath and wrapped my arm around him, too. "I swear to the both of you with every bit of my heart that as long as I can, I will stay here and teach you. But I have to be honest with you. I cannot be here forever. Nothing in life is forever, because it is always changing, always growing, sometimes in a good way and sometimes in not so good a way. Do you understand?" They both nodded, their brown eyes so darkly solemn that I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn't. Instead I gave them the biggest smile I could muster. "There is one thing that I can promise you that my mother promised me."

"What?" Robert asked, sniffling.

"I can promise you that no matter what happens, no matter where you go in your lives, or I go in mine, that even if I should go all the way up to heaven, I'll love you forever. And you can take that love inside your hearts and keep it there no matter what. That's the promise my mother made to me, and even though she is in heaven, her love is in my heart, hugging me tight, and helping me whenever I need her."

"Do you wuv us, Miss Wovell?" Robert asked.

"Yes. I do. I love you both with all of my heart."

"Even if we are not always good?" Robert questioned.

"Even if you are not always good."

"Even if I hold on to thorns?" Justin whispered, so low I almost didn't hear him.

"Even then," I told him. Especially then, because that's when he needed love the most.

I dressed for dinner with a heaviness weighing in my heart over what Justin had heard. My mother couldn't promise me a forever, and I couldn't promise them a forever. But I could pledge my love to them, and I hoped that love would steal into their hearts and chase away the shadows hovering there.

Thinking about love brought my thoughts to Benedict. My love for him had grown even more after knowing the pleasure of his arms, and each minute that passed made me ache to be with him. That ache also brought apprehension, for I'd yet to read about preventative measures for child-bearing.

I hurried down to dinner, thinking that the sooner I got there, the quicker the evening would pass, and the more time I would have to find an answer to my dilemma. As it turned out, I was a quarter hour early, and no one else had arrived yet. Moving over to the window, I almost had to press my nose to the glass to see through the room's reflection in the glass to the gathering night outside. The sun, a big orange ball in the sky, seemed to be bouncing on the horizon, and with each slight drop, a little less of it could be seen. The sky was bathed in a purple-red glow, so vibrant I had to squint to watch it.

Even if I hadn't seen his approach reflected in the glass, I would have known he was there.

He didn't touch me. He didn't have to, for me to know he stood but an inch away from me. I could feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of sandalwood and spice, and sense my every feminine nerve spring to attention.

"It is almost nighttime, Titania," Benedict whispered in my ear. "Have you given thought of what that means today?"

"Yes," I said softly as pleasure shot to my toes.

"I have thought about you all day, too. I know just where I am going to kiss you. I know just where I am going to touch you. I know just how I am going to come in—" He stepped to the side and pointed out the window. "It is indeed a beautiful sunset, Miss Lovell. Come tell us what you think, Alan."

I looked around to see Mr. Henderson step into the room. Benedict had to have the instincts of a mountain lion, for I swear, not only could he hear the impossible, he was a deadly predator to a woman's sensibilities as well. My heart pounded, and my underclothes became damp. My blush felt as if it blazed as red as the sunset. I could only hope Mr. Henderson would somehow think the hue of my cheeks was due to the reddish cast of the sun through the window.

I took a step back and nodded toward Mr. Henderson. "How are you today, sir?"

"Excellent," he said, walking our way. He glanced out the window. "It is a noteworthy sunset, but it in no way compares to you, Miss Lovell. I must say I have never seen you looking lovelier." He leaned closer to me, peering at me intently.

My word! Were last night's activities engraved on my forehead? "Thank you," I said lowering my lashes. "It must be the dress."

"I think we are just seeing Miss Lovell regain her health after being so sick. Did your meeting with the Bryson Company go well today?" Benedict thankfully diverted Mr. Henderson's attention, and I hurried over to the sofa to sit and hopefully escape anyone else's notice. It was most unfair of Benedict to fire my thoughts and senses while I had yet hours of propriety imprisoning me.

Perhaps there was more of the devilish gleam of the demon door in Benedict than I thought. The man was a master at creating expectations—and fulfilling them, too.

Stephen entered the room, escorting Constance and Katherine. Everyone seemed to be ignoring the emotional outbursts that had occurred at dinner the other night. And I wondered if that was the way things were always dealt with in polite society: never directly confront and resolve issues, but skirt around them and ignore the moments when an ugly face chooses to reveal itself. It didn't seem to be a healthy way to live, like never laundering your clothes, and I could see the effects showing upon everyone. Constance's smile was over bright, her chatter about fashion more effusive and less coherent. Stephen's smile wasn't anywhere in sight. He'd taken on a brooding air that made his once laughing blue eyes haunted. Katherine, who always looked so serene seemed apprehensive, as if she didn't dare take another step for fear that she'd fall. Even Mr. Henderson's presence within the home had taken on a sense of darkness, as if hovering. I couldn't decide if he played the role of a bird of prey waiting to strike or a mother hen looking to save, and I wondered if he, too, had played a role in the events surrounding Francesca's death.

"Where is Mother?" Stephen asked as he glanced about the room. "I thought we would be the last to arrive, since Katherine and I waited for Constance."

Constance rolled her eyes. "Everyone thinks that it is easy for a woman to be beautiful, no? I tell you, it takes a lot of time and a tremendous amount of effort. Maria spent two hours on my hair alone."

I never thought I'd pity Maria, but perhaps I judged her morose attitude too harshly. I wouldn't be cheerful if I'd the task of arranging Constance's hair for two hours. Then I wondered exactly what Constance and Maria talked about during that time. Did Maria also tell Constance that I had to leave before it was too late?

I had considered confronting Maria when I saw her next, but perhaps I could speak to Constance about the matter. Maria would be a prime candidate for being the author of the threatening note and the destruction to the boys' garden. I'd eliminated her before because I believed Benedict's mother innocent of the deeds, but what if Maria was acting on her own?

"True beauty does not need hours to prepare, Constance; only vanity does," Mrs. Trevelyan said.

Everyone turned to look at the doorway, and gasps of surprise followed. Mrs. Trevelyan, dressed in her customary black gown and dour expression, stood upright with the aid of a cane instead of being ensconced in a wheelchair.

"Well, do not gawk. Stephen, help me to the dining room. Benedict, I have realized in my grief that I have been extremely remiss in performing the duties of mistress of this household. Rest assured that will no longer be the case." She looked directly at me, and my stomach clenched.

I stood to join the group for dinner, though my knees were even shakier than before. It seemed to me that Mrs. Trevelyan could have been induced to leave the safety of her chair only by a monumental event. And as far as I could tell, the only thing of significance that had happened recently was last night when I went to Benedict's bedroom. The butterflies in my stomach turned to rocks for a few minutes before I decided I was reading too much into Mrs. Trevelyan's seemingly miraculous recovery. Surely there was no way anyone else could know what had happened last night between Benedict and myself.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
O
NE

It was half past the eleventh hour before I finished reading the medical information about contraception. I'd readied myself to go to Benedict's room the moment I'd returned from dinner, which turned out to be uneventful despite Mrs. Trevelyan's dramatic appearance. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to dispense with the formalities and attend to other things, all except Constance. As the meal progressed she seemed to become unusually quiet; then, during the last course, she pleaded a headache and left. I wondered why. Could Mrs. Trevelyan's recovery and intent to take up her responsibilities bother Constance? I pushed aside the question to face tomorrow. I had other things on my mind tonight, and it was necessary to discuss my findings of preventives with Benedict. The situation looked dismal.

Gathering my lamp and key, I hurried through the passage to his room. He swung around the moment I stepped through the panel's threshold. His hair was a hand-raked mess, his features harsh, and his dress rumpled.

"I thought you were not coming."

I drew a bolstering breath and decided to tackle the issue immediately before I lost my nerve. I held up the medical book. "I have been doing a bit of research, and we have several ... complexities to address before we... undress."

Benedict, in the process of advancing toward me, came to a halt. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. His feet were planted in a stance of a ship's captain steering his vessel through a storm. "Exactly what
complexities
did you have in mind to discuss, Titania?"