Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) (28 page)

Chapter Fifty-One

    
 
R
ebecca
finished cutting the pieces for her new dress, rolled the remaining fabric onto the bolt carefully, and set the room back in order before attempting to thread the sewing machine.

      Birget appeared at the door, announcing supper, a very odd look on her face.

      “Is something wrong?” Rebecca asked the cook, who looked as though she were about to cry.

      “No, nothing at all.” Birget replied, her lips tight, as she quickly went downstairs.

       Rebecca brushed her hair back into place and pulled several bits of black fabric from her skirt before heading down for dinner.

      Timothy and Mark had assembled in the family dining room, smiling broadly, and Rebecca was sure something was most definitely strange at Stavewood.

      “All of you are up to something.” She slipped into her chair, looking mystified as Timothy pushed her close to the table.

      Mark giggled and Timothy glared at him and returned to his place at the table.

      “Did you sew on the machine yet?” the boy asked as Birget appeared with a platter of lean roast beef.

      “Not yet, but I’m getting ready to thread it now.” Rebecca peered at him from across the table suspiciously.

      “When you figure it out can you show me how it works?”

      “No new dress yet, Miss?” Birget asked, smiling as she filled Rebecca’s plate.

      “Birget believes you were going to turn out a new wardrobe before she finished dinner tonight.” Timothy poured the rich gravy over a mountain of fluffy potatoes, smiling slyly.

      Birget laughed and returned to the kitchen.

      “Is that why you are all behaving so strangely, because I can sew? Is there something especially amusing about that?” She tasted the beef, and was pleased with the hearty flavor.

      “Not at all! I told you, I thought it was wonderful!” Timothy hummed as he sampled the tender beef. “Rebecca, this is superb. I don’t know what you and Birget have been plotting in that kitchen, but I fear it will have me two sizes larger before spring.”

      “If you get too much bigger I’ll feel like I am sleeping with Cannonball!” Rebecca scolded.

     Mark laughed quietly, delighted that she felt comfortable enough to tease the big man so easily.

      “I have not an inch of fat on me!” Timothy looked sidelong at the boy.

      “I was not referring to your being fat in any way, sir,” Rebecca smiled.

      “Ah, so the ‘big’ was intended to refer to something else.” He smiled at the woman knowingly.

      Mark was not sure why Rebecca blushed so profusely.

      The woman glowered at the man, and put away her teasing.

      After a light dessert of chopped and sugared almonds, between flakey layers of paper thin buttery pastry, Timothy sent Mark to get him some papers from the study and then excused himself briefly.

      “I’m sorry, Rebecca, there’s a paper I forgot to ask the boy to bring. Don’t get up. I’ll be right back to share coffee with you.”

      Rebecca was enjoying her dessert too immensely to leave her place and sighed with pleasure at how sweet the confection tasted.

      Mark ran back into the dining room and plopped into his chair.

      Rebecca heard a tiny cry, as if from an infant, and turned to Timothy standing behind her with an odd smile on his face.

      “Go ahead, Pa!” Mark bounced excitedly.

      Timothy opened his massive hands to reveal the tiny kitten, a fluffy ball of pure black with wide, deep, blue eyes, mewing softly and squirming restlessly.

      “Timothy!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Wherever did you find this little sweetheart?”

       She gathered up the tiny creature and enclosed it in her fine hands, studying the feline lovingly and producing soft kissing sounds that made the kitten purr loudly as it began rub against her thumb.

      “So this is what you were all up to! You’re a bunch of scoundrels!” She kissed the tiny kitten’s head and smiled at Timothy fondly.

      “You told everybody you had never had a pet,” Mark explained. “Pa thought of it and I picked it out!” Mark happily dove back into his dessert.

      “How sweet of both of you!” Rebecca nuzzled the kitten close to her face.

      “It’s good practice, Rebecca,” Timothy commented as he returned to his chair and sipped his steaming coffee.

      “Practice? For what?”

      “Babies!” Timothy chuckled as Rebecca studied the helpless creature and wondered to herself what kind of a mother she’d make.

Chapter Fifty-Two

    
 
T
imoth
y
growled, dropped the deeds onto the table next to him and studied the young woman beside him before the den fire. “I swear these documents get more impossible to make sense of every day.”

      Rebecca was contemplating her knitting and looked up at him thoughtfully. The kitten was curled contentedly in her lap.

      “What kind of papers are they?” She set her knitting aside and rubbed the kitten’s head with one finger.

      “Nothing you’d find interesting, I’m sure.” Timothy watched her fondling the animal and considered addressing the problem that had been interrupting his concentration.

      “Perhaps I could help. My father was a rather successful barrister and I often assisted him at his office.”

      “It doesn’t matter right now, Rebecca.” He rose from his chair and pulled the brandy bottle from the shelf.

      “Timothy, what’s wrong?” She lifted the kitten gently and set the sleeping pet into the basket of yarn at her side. She studied Timothy’s troubled face.

      “I’m worried, Rebecca.” He filled the snifter and gazed into the fire.

      “About Dianna?” As much as she had enjoyed her afternoon and the delightful gift, she herself had been unable to rid her mind of the situation.

      “There’s no question in my mind that Jude killed the chestnut, and took the Arabian, possibly for his own. Did you know that Jude is a cousin of Octavia’s?” He sipped the brandy slowly.

      “You mentioned that before. Why would he come after the horses?” Whatever the man’s reason, Rebecca was uneasy.

      “Jude Thomas and I go way back, Rebecca. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that there was something going on between him and Corissa.” Timothy turned to her seriously.

      “There is nothing whatsoever that I myself find attractive about the man. Is that what you’re concerned about?” Rebecca felt him scrutinizing her closely.

      “Not really, but there are other things. Mark was not exaggerating about the snow. I worry that you don’t realize a lot of things about me, Rebecca. Or about what life will be like here for you.” He turned from her, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m not sure you’d be happy at Stavewood in time.”

     “What would make you even imagine that?” Rebecca impatiently awaited his reply, leaning forward in her chair and hoping he would look at her.

      “Once the snow does fly it won’t stop, not for months. Then there’s the cold. Dressed properly we could get into Billington occasionally, but it will become an excursion, and you’ll find you probably don’t want to spend much time outdoors. If there had been less commotion going on here I would have taken you out riding several times before now, just to get you out before winter.”

      Rebecca watched the side of his face closely as he gazed into his brandy, swirling the dark liquid in the large glass.

      “There’s the house to run,” he continued seriously, “And if you enjoy your knitting and that sewing machine over time as you seem to now, maybe you’d be happy here.”

      “Timothy, are you afraid that I decided to start sewing because you didn’t take me shopping when I was cold?” Rebecca never meant to make him feel she was not being well cared for.

      “I can probably buy you anything you desire, Rebecca. But, however fortunate I have been in my business dealings, the fact remains that I’m not much more than a glorified logger who lives in the middle of nowhere. With Dianna around you’ll even be more confined at Stavewood than ever. Yet, even once that situation is resolved, some isolation will always be a factor.”

      He turned to her, his face solemn and unsmiling.

      “Timothy, whatever gave you any idea that I could possibly be anything less than completely contented here? I love to sew, that has nothing to do with whether or not you can buy me things. Yes, I was cold, but I’ve found that fine wool. That wool comes from you. Stavewood is a very large house, with a full staff and I am sure I will have more than enough to keep myself busy. Please do not imagine that I could ever feel restless here with you.”

      “Oh, Madam,” he shook his head. “Trust me, you will get restless!”

      “Firstly, my dear sir, let me tell you that I am nothing less than perfectly contented here. Do you imagine that if I were to get bored, confined by some snow, I would love you any less?” Rebecca rose from her chair and stood to face him.

      “It’s happened.” Timothy looked at her openly.

      “Well, it won’t happen to me, Timothy!” Her tone was unwavering and she looked frankly into his eyes. “I am more in love with you than I ever imagined possible. I came here for you, for Stavewood, because it’s where I have always belonged. If I were to find myself in England again, with or without the means to care for myself and, even if the world seemed perfect, were anyone to ask me if I would set foot on that train again, I would not hesitate for a moment.”

      He studied her face closely, her eyes welling up with tears and a fierce determination in the emerald depths. He took her gently by the shoulders.

      “Rebecca,” he whispered passionately. “It seems that everything imaginable has stood in your way to keep you from being here now, yet none of it stopped you. How can I possibly meet the expectations you must have after all of that?”

      “Timothy, don’t you see you already have? We have many things to be worried about, but my feelings for you and the happiness I have found here should never be one of them. You must believe in that and put at least that worry aside.”

      He pulled her to him intensely, holding her so tight against him that she began to ache. She listened to the deep timbre of his heartbeat and cursed everyone around him who had not appreciated the generosity and love he was so eager to give.

      “If there’s anyone who is undeserving, Timothy, it would be me,” she whispered. “You are a wonderful man, and I plan to spend the rest of my life appreciating your love.”

      He held her in front of him and stood looking at her face, the soft warmth in her loving eyes and the perfect delicate features of her astonishing beauty. He kissed her ravenously.

      Rebecca felt totally complete in his strong arms as they stood embracing. For a time now they were quiet and safe from the threat that surrounded them both.

      “You cannot imagine sleeping in that cold, empty bed alone tonight,” he whispered.

      “I’d rather not, but I think it would be best. I don’t care what anyone thinks, but I do care about Mark and what he is learning and it simply seems unacceptable.” She stood with her hands resting against the big man’s chest.

      “Then we’ll sleep in
your
room tonight,” he stated, pleased with his alternative.

      Rebecca giggled. “You think it’s about which room we sleep in?”

      “Then we’ll stay awake all night while I make love to you and not sleep at all.” He looked down into her eyes, his own eager and smiling.

      “You would have me sneaking around every morning until we’re married? I don’t think it matters which room we’re in, or whether or not we actually sleep. We will be discovered,” she scolded.

      “I’ll go for the reverend now, and it will be done.” He could see that Rebecca believed he was teasing her.

      “At this hour? I think not!”

      “Then at daybreak. It’s settled!” He kissed her warmly and she fought with her resolve.

      “Timothy,” she whispered and he lifted her lightly in his arms.

      “This is kidnapping!” Rebecca giggled.

      “Even better!” He chuckled deeply as he climbed the stairs two at a time.

Chapter Fifty-Three

    
 
T
imothy
laughed as Rebecca wrapped herself in the twisted, white sheet, scolding him soundly for having lured her once again to his bed.

      “I think that would be a perfect wedding gown.”

      “I think not,” she gasped. “Why, it’s not even decent!”

      “I noticed that! Well, if not a wedding gown then perfectly acceptable for coming back to bed.” Timothy lie on his side, reclining on a high stack of pillows, watching her pace the room in the revealing sheet.

      “Please, I have to get to my room before the entire household is up!” Rebecca leaned toward him, whispering loudly, offering the man an inviting glimpse of her barely covered breasts.

      “Alright,” he sighed as the girl wrapped herself more decently. “Sew up the thing if you must, but be quick about it so we can hurry up and get married.”

      “You’re not serious,” she gasped.

      “Perfectly!” He smiled smugly and brushed a lock of hair from his face, his broad shoulders bare and bronzed against the white sheets. “We’ll go into Billington straight away this morning and be back here having a honeymoon before nightfall. You did agree to marry me!”

      “But, what about a wedding?” Rebecca was sure he was most certainly joking.

      “We’ll have a wedding in the spring with flowers, relatives, the works. Whatever you please, Rebecca. We’ll invite the entire county if that makes you happy, but we’ll marry today.” He sat up on the bed, not bothering to pull the blanket across himself, shaking back his mane of hair.

      Rebecca blushed and smiled at the clear view she was afforded of his bare thighs and exposed position.

      “Oh, pardon me. I’ll be more careful for the rest of the day,” he smiled, gallantly covering himself. “But, after today you’ll have to get used to it.”

      “Stop teasing me and get me back to my room!” she demanded in a hushed tone.

      “I’m dead serious, Rebecca.” His demeanor became suddenly subdued.

      “You can’t be!” She sat in the chair, tucking the sheet around her bare legs.

      “Why not? Of course you want a wedding, a gown, a celebration. I would never imagine denying you any of that. We will have it all, all of it and more, but I don’t want to wait.” He faced her, his forearms on his thighs as he leaned toward her earnestly.

      “You really are serious. You want to elope?” She could not believe he was ready to marry her this instant. “Just so that I don’t sleep in my own room?”

      “Partly, but that certainly is not the main reason. It’s rather obvious, you have to admit, that having you in my bed has not been all that difficult, at least the last few nights.”

      “Oh, stop!” She began to pace the room, trailing the sheet carelessly behind her. “It seems so rushed, so sudden, to just run off.”

      “Are you unsure in any way that you want to marry me?” His voice was questioning.

      “No, of course not!” She turned to face him. “That’s not it at all!”

      “Then, why not? If you are ready, and trust me, I am much more than ready. Why not?”

      “I’m not sure why not. It just seems reckless, I suppose.”

      “Rebecca, you got on a train and traveled halfway around the world for about ten words in an ad, and you think marrying me today is reckless?” He laughed heartily.

      “Oh, stop, Timothy. You’re twisting it all around.” She resumed her pacing.

      Timothy set his foot firmly on the trailing sheet as Rebecca paced past him and she lost her grip on the fabric and he deftly gathered it into his lap.

      She faced him, entirely bare, and frowned.

      “Marry me, Rebecca,” he said softly, as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Not in a week, or a season, or a year. Marry me today. I have spent far too long without you. We’ll dress and tell Mark and the staff. We’ll go to Billington today. I’ll buy you the biggest ring that money can buy and bring you back here as my wife. Back to Stavewood. Here, the way it should have been the day I finished it.” He looked clearly into her eyes, never wavering as she listened quietly. 

      “A ring?” Rebecca choked.

      “Of course!” Timothy burst into laughter. “The biggest we can find. Say yes!”

      “But what will I wear, and what will we tell everyone and-and…” she stammered. “Yes!”

      The air was crisp and clear as Rebecca snuggled into the furs in the coach, warmly dressed in a smart black wool dress Timothy had borrowed from one of the maids. Although the dress was designed to be covered with a large apron, and might look severe on anyone else, on Rebecca it was stunning.

      Her hair carefully arranged, and her cheeks glowing with excitement, Timothy climbed in beside her and shouted for the driver to go ahead.

      “Are you excited?” he whispered close to her ear and put his strong arm around her, pulling her warmly to his side,

      “Yes,” she giggled. “Very!”

      “You’re sure you want to do this today?” he asked.

      “You!” she huffed. “Two hours ago it seemed like I had no choice, and now you ask me if I am sure? You are incorrigible, Timothy Elgerson!”

      “Not nearly as much as I expect to be tonight.”

      Rebecca could feel the deep vibration of his laughter as she nestled close to him.

      “Is it too cold to open the window?” Rebecca felt so closed in, within the confines of the coach, while the air seemed so sweet and fresh outside.

      “Not if you’re warm enough. I’ll open the window if you like.”

      Timothy pulled back the heavy curtains, opening up the view to a startling blue sky, and he slid open the window.

      Rebecca looked out at the leaves, drifting by the hundreds down around them and she inhaled the crisp air. With the trees having lost so many leaves, the panorama opened up and Rebecca could see for miles as the carriage rolled gently down the hillside from Stavewood.

      “The air smells different today,” she mused aloud.

      “That would be from the snow yesterday. When the snow falls enough to cover the ground the air can be so clear it nearly hurts to breathe it sometimes.” He spoke softly as he reclined in the carriage.

      “Timothy, why is the third floor closed at Stavewood?”

      “What makes you ask, Rebecca?” He looked down at her sweet face, the soft furs gathered around her fetchingly.

      “The turret. When I was up there the day I first went up to look for knitting things, we opened the door and stepped out on it. It was so beautiful. I’d never seen anything like it. I thought, perhaps when everything was covered with snow, it might be beautiful as well.”

      “What possessed you to go out into the turret at all?” He watched her and listened seriously.

      “I don’t know,” she replied wistfully. “It felt as if the house wanted the door open. It was funny because the door was heavy. When it came free it was as if the house sighed.” Rebecca mused at the memory.

      “When I built the house there was something inside me that could not be stopped.” His voice was quiet and quaking. “My father used to joke about how many cubits high it should be, and asked if God had commanded me to build it, like Noah and his ark.

      “At the time I wasn’t sure myself why I felt I had to build Stavewood and, contrary to what everyone thought, I had begun the house and milled most of the lumber even before I met Corissa.”

      “I thought you built it for her?” Rebecca looked up and saw his serious, faraway look.

      “No, not originally. After I met her, she was lost and restless. I thought if I brought her to the house it might make her happy somehow. Since it was strong and sound, I thought it would make her feel more secure. I was very wrong.

      “Corissa thought it was confining, and the day I took her up to the turret she remarked that it was like a prison tower. Originally there were windows up there, my thoughts being that you could go up there on any day, even the coldest of days when the skies were most vivid and the stars their most brilliant, and admire it all. All of Stavewood, and much more.

      “One winter, in a very bad blizzard, one of the windows cracked and I took them all out. After that I sealed off the third floor. Once, I thought we’d have guests in the house, and a family.” Timothy sighed deeply.

      “It’s interesting, Rebecca that you would be moved to go out into the turret and I believe you heard it sigh. The day I closed the door I heard it myself.”

      Rebecca let a tear fall onto the soft furs and it slid down slowly and dropped onto Timothy’s sturdy hand.

      “Would you like windows back in the turret again?” he asked.

      “No, because it’s so beautiful outside here, even in the cold. I think the bracing weather is part of the beauty of the view.”

      “Maybe that’s why the window cracked.” Timothy considered Rebecca’s unerring observations about the house.

      “But, I would like to open the third floor one day,” she sighed. “For a family.”

      Timothy held her close, one part of him listening for any sign of danger and the other feeling her perfect in his arms. He had two riders following, discreetly and at some distance, as the couple left Stavewood. Taking Rebecca into the city had other advantages than just eloping.

      They rode in silence while she watched the landscape pass and choked back tears at the beauty of the lake, just beginning to freeze.

      As they approached Billington, the road filled with coaches, buggies and riders and Rebecca sat up and peered out of the window excitedly.

      “Last chance,” Timothy announced loudly. “Speak now or forever hold your peace!”

      Rebecca laughed gaily as they pulled up before the jeweler’s.