Today's Embrace (10 page)

“No, no, Darinda is under Julien's thumb and always has been, though Rogan's right about her strong personality. Julien knows she wants a bigger role in running the diamond business, and to get her way she would cooperate with him.”

“Everyone appears to do what Julien demands except Rogan.” Evy felt a sense of pride in Rogan.

“Yes, two stags butting heads. But enough of Capetown … As for you, Evy girl, it is important how one comports oneself. You must make quite certain the villagers understand your new position as Rogan's wife. You must never let anyone think for a moment that you are still Evy Varley the rectory girl.”

Except you
.

“The villagers fully expect you to behave as the future squire's lady,” Elosia continued her lecture. “One must not hobnob too much with the shoemaker and baker, you know. Not without reminding them who you are.”

Who I am
. She was God's child, that's who she was, having partaken of the one true spiritual birth that mattered.

Concerning her status as a diamond heiress through her mother, Rogan was still waiting for Sir Julien's lawyer at Capetown to send the mountain of documents from South Africa to Rogan's own lawyer that would explain how much her legacy was worth. So far, little information had been exchanged. Rogan believed that was due to Julien's influence. That was another reason Rogan was anxious to leave for Capetown soon. But Evy wondered if there might not be yet another reason why Julien did not want her at the Cape.

Evy continued to hold the envelope in her lap from Cousin Jakob
van Buren.
I can't fight everyone and everything standing in opposition to me. Now Im expecting a child. What shall I do?
Anxiety nagged at her. Change rode the winds, and what would it bring? What would it mean for her and Rogan?

And the baby—what would Rogan say?
This will change everything for him, for us, for our plans
.

And the gossip! This would be dry kindling for the flame.
So soon!
some in Grimston Way would say.
Too
soon, so London would
choose
to believe.

Evy's fingers lifted from the envelope to the diamond cross at her throat. A conviction came to her heart reminding her that she had as yet to bring all of these troubling details to her heavenly Father in prayer. She must get alone with the Lord, with Jakob's letter, and spend time before the Lord—

“What lovely blue diamonds.” Lady Elosia lifted her pince-nez and zeroed in on the cross pendant at Evy's throat. “From Rogan?”

“Yes, in London, on our honeymoon.” Evy fingered the cross, remembering his words. “
For my rectory girl. The girl who prayed, read the Bible, a girl of innocence and truthfulness.
”

Truthfulness …

Finally, alone in her room at Rookswood, Evy read the letter from her mother's cousin, Dr. Jakob van Buren.

Disappointment welled up inside Evy. Would he go to the Transvaal where the van Burens lived? She read on.

The letter went on in the same vein. There was no mention of Heyden, but then he would hardly seek out Dr. Jakob. He wouldn't know whether or not the authorities had been alerted to watch for him.

Evy didn't want to think of that now. She preferred to relish the news of a new mission station at Bulawayo. This was favorable, since the long trek inland to the Zambezi River would no longer be necessary. It was that arduous trip northward that had her and Rogan so concerned. She thought again of what she'd learned from Dr. Tisdale.

She was under no illusion, however. Bulawayo remained a demanding journey. But she would meet and become acquainted with Dr. Jakob and his work at Bulawayo, and Arcilla as well would be there.

A day after Rogan's return from London, Evy rode side by side with him on one of their favorite trails through Grimston Woods. Before leaving, she had told him the news of Jakob at Bulawayo, which she thought would have encouraged him, but such was not the case. If anything, Rogan seemed more concerned about her going with him to Capetown than before he'd gone to London to see Lord Salisbury.

“There will be war,” he had told her yesterday after his return from London, “and I don't think anyone can stop it. And England is under the false impression it will be short. They underrate the Boer fighter, and they underestimate Kruger.”

This morning Rogan was astride King's Knight, upon which he'd once won ribbons at the Dublin horse show. The horse had fully recovered from the glancing bullet wound it had taken from Heyden van Buren, which Heyden had intended for Rogan.

Evy rode her golden mare with a shiny cream-colored mane. She
was proud of the beautiful horse, and she remembered fondly when Rogan had brought it to her.

She felt the wind that bore the first promise of a chilling autumn, yet hardly noticed the cold. Her dilemma still burned in her heart. How would she tell Rogan the news that he was going to be a father much sooner than he'd anticipated?

Rogan seemed in no easy mood. Could it be because he was expecting a parcel from Derwent, a report on the gold mine? They were to sail for Capetown in two weeks. Passage aboard the
Venture
was bought, and plans were made. Oh, how could this happen now? And yet—was not her loving heavenly Father in control of so wonderful a miracle as a human life? Should she not be happy with her plight? A sweet baby—
Rogan's
baby! A smile tugged at her mouth. At any other time the news would have thrilled her.

But
now
. Now! After the wicked lies that Lady Patricia had spread in London. She gripped the reins too tightly. Patricia would now be able to convince herself she was right, that Rogan had rejected Patricia, not because he hadn't wanted her, but because he had no choice but to marry the village girl! Patricia would console herself among her friends, thinking she'd been vindicated, especially after Rogan had shown pride in Evy at the Brewster dinner ball, parading her up to the piano to accompany him. That must have gnawed at her.

And Rogan—Evy now needed his support, his strength, but would he give it selflessly? Though he'd agreed that she could sail with him to meet Cousin Jakob, Rogan still had reservations, nor did he hesitate to occasionally voice them.

She looked over at him, biting her lip, unable to feel that she could reach through the armor to make him agree with her wish to sail. She would have liked to lay her hand to his heart and feel it beat as one with her own, and with
their
baby's.

Rogan had never previously been called upon to surrender his plans for the good of another. And now, he found himself joined to her. His
thoughts were not for himself alone, but for her, and now there would also be … their child. How would he react?

She watched him intently as they rode along together. She sensed their thoughts were miles apart. Those rich brown eyes she loved so much were full of energy when his mind moved into troubling areas, areas that recently excluded her: thoughts over the Boer war, the gold mine, the Black Diamond, the Matopos Hills, and the Umlimo, as well as Julien and Heyden …

This morning, before she'd suggested the ride after breakfast—a breakfast she had not eaten but secretly disposed of—she had seen Rogan looking at his Uncle Henry's old map again. Why, she did not know. She was so absorbed with her own dilemma that she had little reserve acquisitiveness. Thus, again, their minds and hearts were not uniting. Why must she bear this worry alone? Why could she not simply tell him about the baby, and how she feared he would tell her to stay behind?

But she believed she knew what he would say. He would quickly determine that her pregnancy had tilted the scale in favor of caution. He would point out the importance of her remaining safely at Rookswood. The most depressing thing was that she could see some wisdom in that decision.

And yet she knew she must be aboard the ship when it left the port for Capetown and Cousin Jakob van Buren. The rendezvous with Katie's relatives had to proceed. She would visit Rorke's Drift, Katie's grave—it must be out there—and Dr. Clyde and Junia Varley's resting places as well.

They rode along the musky autumn trail through the thickening wood. Fir trees were predominant here, and woodpeckers and squirrels were racing up and down the trunks.

Her loving gaze took Rogan in, but with a bit of worry as well. Rugged and forceful as ever, he was wearing a hunter green jacket over an open neck shirt and a jaunty brown felt hat. He brought his black
gelding with an easy grace to the stream facing the ascending hill with encrusted boulders and fir trees. The ends of his dark hair ruffled in the pleasant pine-scented breeze.

“You're as enigmatic now as you were before we were married,” she complained.

“Indeed? Why so?”

“You don't share things with me. You don't discuss your concerns.”

“You've said that before. Look, sweet, it makes no sense to be chattering like magpies without saying anything.”

She smiled ruefully as he looked over at her with a ghost of a smile.

“One kiss,” he said meaningfully, “is worth a thousand words.”

Evy laughed. “I don't mean that sort of thing. I think you know what I mean, about explaining and sharing things. You keep me locked out of your mind, your plans,
our
plans.”

And it makes it more difficult for me to tell you things. Troubling things
.

His smile was crooked. “Yes, I know. You want me to become talkative and cuddly.”

She drew back, feigning distress. “Cuddly!
You?
”

“Cuddly,” he repeated with mock gravity. “By telling you every detail of how I
feel
inside about everything from Aunt Elosia's meddling—as you perceive it—to whether Heyden will hang, or,” he added firmly, “whether I intend to shoot the Boer clod soon as I lay my eyes on him.”

Evy twisted her lip into what was meant as a benign smirk. “You forgot to add the rumor of Dr. Jameson's invasion of the Transvaal on behalf of the Uitlanders at Pretoria, or Sir Julien's expedition into the Matopos.”

“I told you all about that the other night. You know what I think of Julien and the Matopos. It's insanity,” he scoffed. “He knows he can't get by with that kind of action without bloodshed. Julien is not a fool when it comes to the Ndebele tribe and what they believe. If he insists on seeking Lobengula's burial spot, he'll place Arcilla, Darinda, and others in danger. He knows they are right there in the thick of it, at Bulawayo.”

She lapsed into immediate silence. Any mention of women in the thick of danger spoke with pointed emphasis to her own “delicate” predicament. Discussing Bulawayo now would not do.

“Julien thinks too much of his granddaughter, Darinda, to start out on a reckless expedition now,” Rogan said in a thoughtful voice. “He'll need to think of some shrewd way to move without the Ndebele knowing what he's up to. That will require patience on Julien's part, and the delay is to my benefit. If only the ship were sailing tomorrow instead of in two more weeks.”

His fiery gaze swung abruptly to hers. She sensed resistance to her going and quickly changed the subject.

“Cuddly,” she repeated with a short laugh. “You make sharing our thoughts sound a bit squishy.”

His brow lifted. “Squishy and cuddly. I don't like either.”

“It isn't either one, and you know it, Rogan. You're deliberately being difficult. Aunt Grace and Uncle Edmund discussed everything.”

“Did they? Vicar Edmund was a talkative fellow, as I recall. He often overran his sermons. Never seemed to run out of words.” A smile danced in his eyes as he looked at her.