Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance (12 page)

"I apologize if it's been a long time since I've seen you, Mrs. Reed."

She gave him a once-over and never noticed Victoria was doing the very same thing to her. "Father keeps you busy, eh?"

"He does that," he said, smiling.

It was obvious that the woman
did
care very deeply for those she had brought into the world. With just a smile, Alexander had charmed the slippers off her feet. The white-haired woman smiled in turn and a spider's web of wrinkles crept across her face. She had the look of one who'd worked hard in life, but also of one who'd been happy. Every one of those creases had been earned in joy.

She turned her chair and it squeaked on the unpolished floor. "Who's this?" While her words were a little abrupt, her face gave away her interest and delight in having a new visitor.

"This is Victoria Fyn," he answered for her, before she could.

"Any relation to John Fyn?" She spoke louder to fight against the impending din.

She nodded, stepping closer until the sunlight from the window shined on the bottom of her skirt and disturbed particles of dust when the folds rubbed together. "I just moved here recently. I'm his niece."

"He's a good man, even though...ah, he's just a good man!" Victoria couldn't help but think that if the woman had a cane, she would have thumped it.

The screaming became louder then, just after they'd raised their voices. She almost wanted to cover her ears with her hands. She believed Alexander was secretly laughing at the entire scene. If the amused expression on his face meant anything, she was right. "What is happening in there?" she asked with an anxious gesture toward the closed door.

"Oh, don't mind that!" she said with a loud laugh. "It's only Jacob's wife giving birth."

"Right now? In here? I thought the midwife was supposed to make house calls."

"She was in town when the contractions started. Foolish woman shouldn't have been walking around as big as she is. It's too much trouble to take her back to the farm when Sadie and me are right here." The yelling obviously didn't bother her.

"I suppose we should leave." She looked at Alexander to see what he thought.

"No, don't go! I'd love to speak to the new girl in town. Everyone's talking about you."

"What have they been saying?"

"Oh, this and that."

She almost didn't hear the response due to the birthing woman's loud protests. "Are you sure we shouldn't--"

"Haven't you ever heard a woman in labor before?" Both of them looked at her.

"No!" Then she laughed with Alexander. She had to admit that it was a
little
amusing.

The woman screamed again.

"Are you sure she's alright though?"

The sage midwife nodded. "I'm sure she's only hollering like that because she knows she has an audience. She probably thinks it's her husband." The woman leaned forward in the creaky rocking chair. "Quiet it up, Jenny! It ain't your husband yet."

The woman in the other room actually did seem to be affected by the pronouncement. The old woman certainly knew her stuff. Victoria smiled.

"So tell me what you came here to speak to me about."

She hesitated. She was almost hoping for Alexander to jump in and ask instead of her, but he remained silent.

The older woman leaned forward, waiting and probably more interested due to the unintentional suspense and--excuse the pun--pregnant pauses.

Victoria felt odd asking people about a woman who'd died twenty years ago, but she realized she'd better do it if she wanted to get anywhere. "I was hoping you could tell me about my aunt. Fiona Fyn."

"Oh, that one! I remember
her
." She seemed to nod and shake her head at the very same time. It was probably due to her eccentricity that she didn't even bat an eye at the question. It was like she was asked about long-dead relatives every day.

"It seems as if you didn't like her."

"No, no, of course I did. She was a very classy type. Never belonged down here, if you ask me. John was asking for it when he brought her back to Cornwall."

Victoria didn't really find that the midwife's comments matched the impression she'd gotten of her aunt. Then again, she hadn't much to go on beside instinct and perhaps romantic fantasy. Just like Alexander, the story of her suicide fascinated her and she supposed she had wanted to hear about what a good woman the late Fyn was. Truth be told, from Alex's expression, he was having similar thoughts. But they had gone to the midwife's cottage to find the truth...the one that lurked behind the thoughtful eyes in the parlor portrait.

She surprised herself then by asking, "Was she a little snobbish?" If they were to ignore all bad reports, they were wasting their time investigating the woman at all.

The woman shook her head. "I wouldn't say that she thought herself better than any of us. It was more that she was bored of living in a tiny fishing village. Simply wasn't her idea of good living. Me? I say there's no place that's better. Cornish first, English second is what I always say."

"I'm sure many would agree with you, Mrs. Reed." He frowned when Jacob's wife issued a particularly loud wail.

The woman nodded. "Fiona Fyn was a sweet sort, though. Not surprised she didn't make much of a fuss about the entire thing until it was all over."

"Is that when she started to make a fuss?" he asked.

"If you ask me, she still is."

"Still is?" She looked around nervously. "My aunt is dead, Mrs. Reed. Are you referring to her...ghost?" The skin on Victoria's arm rose into tiny bumps and the short hairs stuck up on right-ends.

"Of course I speak of her ghost. Haven't you come across it yet?"

She almost swallowed her tongue. "Why, of course not. I'm just surprised that you would say such a thing."

"Don't be, dear. Ghosts walk these coves as surely as will-o-wisps float across the moors."

She tried to pretend that she didn't want to speak of ghosts because she thought the existence of them unlikely, when in reality, she was just too frightened to contemplate the thought of it.

Alexander shot her an almost tender look, but he ruined its affect by saying, "Don't worry, Victoria. They only come out at night."

She glared at him, but as an attempt to get him to wipe the smile of his face, she faired quite poorly. "I just might
welcome
the idea of Fiona having a ghost. She could tell me all about what happened."

Now it was the midwife's turn to frown. "Why would you want to hear about such a dark day?"

"I've only just met this side of my family," she said, as if that explained anything. She knew it was hard to describe her reasons for desiring more knowledge of the dearly departed and she realized then how wonderful it was that Alexander was on the same level as she.

"I suggest you focus on the ones that are still living," said the woman in response to her shoddy explanation.

While the comment was probably the most sensible one the midwife had departed with, Victoria ignored it. "Tell me more about Fiona."

She sighed. "She was a slip of a thing, a little timid. After she'd been here a while, she changed. She became so sensitive to everyone's needs."

"It seems strange that she would be so unhappy, yet so determined to help her neighbors."

"Well, that was mostly after he left. I believe the poor woman was looking to fill in the gap and make up for what she'd lost."

She thought about the woman's words for a moment. "Did my uncle go somewhere?"

"Oh no, John never goes anywhere. I don't think he's been away from Cornwall for more than two days his entire life." She started to rock in her chair. She had stopped for a while they'd spoken.

"So what were you speaking of?"

"Oh, yes." She glanced out the window and frowned.

"I'm just thinking of that naughty boy of hers. Richard."

"She had a son?" Victoria swayed to the side and he steadied her by putting his hand to the small of her back. Unfortunately, that seemed to throw her even further off balance. As soon as his palm went against her body, she jumped a half foot into the air.

He pressed both hands onto her back to assist her and held her arms to her side and she finally became steady.

He noticed that her eyes were soft when she looked at him. His heart noticed it too.

"Have you been filling her with drink, Alexander?"

"Not yet." They had a laugh together, both ignoring the indignant glares of his wobbly companion.

He thought she'd want to get away from them both, as she usually did at any small sign of trouble. But he was wrong.

"My uncle had a son?"

The woman gave her a funny look. "He didn't tell you?"

"Not a word."

"Well, perhaps I can understand why. That son of his managed to be the end of his mother. It's doubtful that he would enjoy speaking of him."

It seemed a little harsh.

"What did Richard do?"

"Decided he wanted to make his fortune in London. Nobody knew exactly what wild scheme he'd concocted, but he obviously had faith in it."

She frowned. “I suppose his mother didn't want him to go?"

"No. She was inconsolable when she realized that nothing she could say would change his mind. Even in hate, John was the one with power over that boy."

"What do you mean?"

"The two didn't get along. They argued over just about everything, especially with what Richard ought to do with his future."

Alexander nodded. "John expected him to be a
sailor
like his old man?"

The woman grinned. "That's exactly what it was. But as I said, Richard was a young man with big ideas. He was only fourteen years old when he left and he's never come back."

"But my aunt...is that why she committed suicide?" She didn't even react to his implication. He realized that it was a sign of her innocence that she probably hadn't caught the joke.

"It might have been. But she didn't do it immediately after he left. So maybe it had something to do with John as well."

Victoria moved away from the woman's chair. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Reed."

He supposed that she'd finally had enough. All that she had found out would likely be upsetting. Here she was trying to discover more about her roots, and her own uncle was keeping things from her. Also, Richard was supposedly still alive, and to someone with most of their relatives dead, the news of having a cousin must be shocking. Part of him wondered why she even bothered when she obviously had other things of importance on her mind.

"Alex?" She looked at him, probably wondering why he had yet to move.

He nodded, said goodbye to the midwife, and thanked the heavens that he'd finally be able to get away from the screaming woman in the next room. He'd feigned amusement so that Victoria wouldn't think he wanted to leave. In reality, he would have rather been any place else. But she'd needed the information and somehow, that had been important to him.

Although it was a foolish thing to notice, he thought about how Victoria had used the shortened form of his name as they left. Did that mean anything?

Did it matter?

It was very possible that it signified nothing, but that wasn't what he wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that when she was upset, she turned to him. He wanted to think that she warmed to him when hurt by the world. Because no matter what motivation he had for getting to know her, he was pretty damn sure that no one understood Victoria Clavering the way he did.

"So that's why you wanted to come." Her uncle removed his hat to wipe his brow. He was frowning.

She hurried to keep up with his long-legged pace. "Mrs. Reed told me, and I have to admit that I was shocked."

"What were you doing speaking to the midwife?" He stopped walking then. "Victoria! Did that Trevelyn put--"

"No, John! I went there specifically to speak to her."

"That woman has always been a terrible gossip."

She was already tired from trying to keep up with a man who only desired to get away from her. And it was only the beginning of the confrontation. "Is it gossip if it's something I should already know? You told me Fiona was murdered. I get more honesty from the townspeople than my own flesh and blood."

He sighed. "You always like to be so dramatic about everything."

"
I
am being dramatic?" The anger in her voice was unmistakable. "
You
are the one who says his wife was murdered only because you think your son was the cause of her distress. While your feelings aren't without basis, a lot might have been different if you'd dealt your son a little compassion. So what if his goals are different from yours?"

John looked at her then, probably wondering from what deep well the rush of emotion had come. He did have a heart, even if he tried to keep it hidden most of the time. "I don't like talking about him!" he said and looked away once again.

"Not even to your own niece?"

"It doesn't make the pain any less."

She shook her head. "I don't understand how you could disown your own son."

"I didn't disown him. He left of his own free will. You know nothing about my family, so do not pretend to."

"Can't you see that I
want
to know more? I am a part of this family and I want to be treated as such."

The muscle in his jaw twitched in tempo with the nervous sway of his right arm. "It doesn't matter what you want. I'm not of the mood to tell you the entire sordid story and I can't think of any time when I will be. Nor can I understand why you have any reason to know about
that
."

She didn't want to look away, but facing his furious visage was become increasingly difficult.

"You seem to have romanticized Fiona's life, but I can assure you that it was hardly that," he continued. "In fact, she hated her life. But I'm sure you've already heard all about that."

"About what?"

"How
I
couldn't keep her happy. About how she blamed the downfall of our son on
me
." He became quiet, his words tinged with sadness.