The Mistress of Trevelyan (18 page)

I followed behind Benedict Trevelyan as he wheeled his mother toward the dining room. My heart tripped over Stephen Trevelyan's words. Perhaps there'd been more behind Benedict Trevelyan's kiss than I thought; why else would he be upset? He was most likely worried that I'd see the incident as meaning more than it should. My practicality would never allow that

I had expected that this evening would end just as every other evening had. Benedict Trevelyan would excuse himself to work in his study. Stephen Trevelyan would have an engagement to attend in town. Mrs. Trevelyan, Katherine, and Constance would disappear to their rooms.

But tonight was different. Stephen Trevelyan offered to play the piano if Constance would sing, and we all, including Katherine, retired to the music room. Stephen Trevelyan played the piano with such a lively hand that I couldn't help but relax and tap my foot to the beat. Hearing Constance sing was a blessing to my soul and the first thing about her that I could say I honestly liked. She was utterly awful, knew it, but sang anyway with a sultry poise that I had to admire.

When they'd finished, Katherine surprised me by getting up and pulling Benedict Trevelyan to the piano, gesturing for him to play. Sighing, he sat down at the keys. Then Katherine knelt on the ground beside the piano and placed her cheek against the sleek wood as he began to play. His large hands gently slid over the keys in a graceful dance of movement and feeling. My heart felt as if he were playing the melody upon my soul. Each touch, each fluid movement of his strong fingers, stroked my emotions. I stared, mesmerized by the magic he wove, and knew I'd never tire of watching him.

I'd little opportunity to educate myself with a vast knowledge of great composers; yet I thought I'd heard the haunting melody he played before. Only its deep bass notes seemed unfamiliar. I must have been frowning, my puzzlement apparent, because Stephen Trevelyan leaned my way and whispered, "It is Beethoven's
Moonlight Sonata
played an octave lower so that Katherine can feel the vibrations of the notes more easily. She idolizes the composer, and this is her favorite composition to feel."

I glanced at Katherine, my heart wrenching over the tear I saw fall down her cheek. "I understand why she loves his work. Not only is it beautiful, but he too became deaf. Yet even after he could not hear anymore, he still wrote music we will never forget."

"I think the smartest thing my brother has ever done was to engage you to teach Justin and Robert. I only hope it is not too late"

All humor had drained from Stephen Trevelyan's face, and his eyes were filled with stark pain. Too late for what? I wanted to cry out to him, but he moved away. Looking up, I found Constance, Mrs. Trevelyan, and Benedict Trevelyan all staring at me as if I'd committed a heinous crime by whispering with Stephen Trevelyan. I had to remind myself again; I might have changed the direction of my life, but I'd in no way found a safe harbor.

Nothing made that more apparent to me than when I returned to my room. Upon my pillow lay a note. Written in an elongated flowery style were five words:
Remain at your own peril
. The signature beneath was comprised of one letter. The letter
F
.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

The day was too sunny, too serene, for me to have a threatening note in my pocket. I hadn't decided yet whether to tell Benedict Trevelyan about it or keep it to myself. Mrs. Trevelyan seemed to be determined to make me leave. At least it was she to whom I attributed the note.

But more disturbing than the warning was Stephen's comment during the music last night.
I only hope it isn't too late.
Too late for what?

This morning I'd asked Dobbs if he'd let Stephen Trevelyan know that I wished to speak to him. Dobbs only raised his nose disapprovingly and didn't respond. Since I hadn't heard from Stephen Trevelyan all day, I assumed Dobbs hadn't relayed my message.

"Miss Wovell, we have ten baby plants now." Robert came to a smiling stop before me, rosy cheeks framing his bright eyes.

"That is because you have taken very good care of them. And the grown-up word for baby plants is sprouts. We have ten sprouts in the herb garden."

After our first lesson looking for mommies in the garden, I thought it would be good for Robert and Justin to have something to care for, so we'd planted dill, sweet marjoram, parsley, and ginger mint—herbs that Cook Thomas said he would purchase from Justin and Robert rather than from the market. Justin reluctantly did what he had to do to care for his side of the garden. Robert tended to his with enthusiasm and considered himself the proud father of "baby plants." I was not sure how he was going to react when it came time to harvest the herbs—but I wasn't going to borrow tomorrow's trouble.

I sighed, never realizing how complicated life could be. It had always seemed so simple before.

"I am ready to do numbers now," Robert said. "But I cannot 'member how many rocks I am supposed to find." His nose scrunched as he thought hard.

"Mathematics is the proper word." Smiling, I closed and set aside my drawing pad. "Do you remember what I told you to do so you could easily count how many rocks you needed?"

Robert wiggled his fingers. "I am supposed to count these."

"Right. You need to have two rocks for each finger. When you have collected that, I will teach you a secret about mathematics."

Robert looked at his brother. "Will I be as smart as Justin?"

"You are already smart. And someday when you are older, there will be things that you will be very smart in. And there will be some things that Justin will be very smart in. That is the beauty of the people in the world. Nobody is the same. Everybody is different. There is only one you in the whole, big world, and that makes you very, very special indeed."

His eyes widened. "There is only one me. That means when my daddy goes away on bizzess trips, he won't find another me who is better and love him best, will he?"

"No, dear. He loves you and wants you to be the very best you can. Now collect the rocks you need from the edge of our garden, and we will work on your lesson." Robert went over to the pebbles encircling the garden and meticulously set to work.

We were on a blanket at the back of the formal gardens, close enough to hear the waves of the bay slap against the rocks and feel a steady breeze crest over the cliffs. The beds of roses I'd been attempting to sketch stretched like a red-and-pink stained glass sea across the cultured hedges. An entire world of insects buzzed about the sweetly fragrant air, each fluttering or bumbling along, feasting on nectar as if tomorrow would never dawn. Justin stood with his sketchpad, busily drawing. He had his nose nearly planted in the center of a huge magenta-colored rose. I hoped it wasn't a bee he was examining.

During our morning lessons we read about John Muir and James Audubon. Their contributions to our knowledge of the natural world interested Justin, and he decided afterward that he wanted to add to his scientific notebook today. Since our time at Holloway Park, when he'd categorized the trees, he'd remained withdrawn, doing his lessons without any excitement unless it involved drawing, like now, or when we played chess. He loved the game, had taken to it better than I could have hoped, but then I knew the control and solitude of the sport would appeal to him. Unlike Robert, who had to have things busy to keep his interest.

I believed it wouldn't be too much longer before Justin would be ready to play a game of chess with his father.

I had fewer problems with the boys suddenly erupting into a fight. But I didn't pride myself in thinking it was because I'd made great strides in healing their hurts. It was most likely because I kept them quite busy.

Hearing the thunder of hooves and the sharp sound of a whinny, I jumped to my feet, trying to swallow my sudden fear, determined to conquer my weakness. Rambling in from the trees near the cliffs appeared Benedict Trevelyan, a picture of windblown elegance and strength despite the mud splattering him. He'd been heading for the stables, but when he saw us, he changed his direction to come our way.

I gasped in dismay and started backing up. If I had had the notion that Gunnlod was as big as a horse could get, then I'd have been proven wrong. The horse he rode now was massive. Black and wild. Huge and dangerous.

When he reached the last tree, he pulled the horse to a dancing stop and dismounted, thankfully tethering the beast to the tree before nearing us. I looked around to find that Robert and Justin had joined me near the blanket, both staring at their father with hungry eyes.

I decided on the spot that Friday, we'd make an excursion into town. My mind scrambled for a plan of activity sure to meet with Benedict Trevelyan's approval—the bank. What parent doesn't wish for his child to have an understanding of finances?

"Ah, Justin, Robert, Miss Lovell, just the persons I wished to see," Benedict Trevelyan said, striding towards us.

I saw Robert and Justin's mouths pop open. I believe mine did, too, before I recovered my wits. Something about Benedict Trevelyan's manner seemed so much less removed than usual. "And how may we help you today, Mr. Trevelyan?"

"It occurred to me as I was out riding that Justin and Robert are of an age to begin learning to ride."

I felt both the boys press in upon my skirts. This new idea of their father's wasn't exactly their idea of fun. Mine either. "On that, that..." I stammered incredulously.

"Horse," Benedict Trevelyan supplied, not sounding the least bit happy with my response. The words had flown from my mouth before I could stop them, in my panic. I felt Justin and Robert press even closer to my side, and I knew this entire situation was spiraling toward a disaster I had to stop.

I'd hoped for some activity to bind father and sons together, but why had it cursedly come down to horses? The boys needed their father's approval, and I wasn't about to let them face the beasts in the stables alone. We would learn to ride, it seemed. Oh, Lord, I thought, remembering to finally breathe.

I blinked, then shook my head as I realized the master of Trevelyan Hill had been speaking to me. "I am sorry. Could you repeat yourself? I did not quite hear what—"

"I said, Miss Lovell, that I am not an idiot. Justin and Robert could not ride Odin even if they were begging to do so. The stallion is high-strung and tests even my skill."

"So that is Odin," I murmured, tipping up on my toes so that I could see the horse over Benedict Trevelyan's shoulder. Odin pranced as if he ruled the world and nobody had better get in his way. "No wonder Gunnlod bites him."

"What?" Benedict Trevelyan followed my gaze, his frown of outrage turning to puzzlement. "Why would you say that, Miss Lovell?"

I shrugged, not quite sure how to express my opinion. "He looks as if he needs to be bitten every now and then to remind him he is not a god. Were I of the nature to believe in such things, that horse appears to be a reincarnation of his namesake."

"I thought the same thing the moment I saw him. That is why I bought him and named him." Benedict Trevelyan returned his gaze to mine. "Now, I believe we were discussing riding lessons."

"Yes. When do you want the children and me to meet you at the stables?"

"Tomorrow at two." Benedict Trevelyan squatted down to Justin and Robert's level. "There is a surprise for you two in the stables."

"Can we come see?" Robert jumped up and down. Justin stayed back.

Benedict Trevelyan's gaze lingered on Justin for a moment before he smiled at Robert and ruffled the boy's hair. "I will show you tomorrow."

"We will be there. You haven't forgotten that the music teachers are auditioning in the morning?"

He stood, and it seemed he was a good deal closer to me than before. "No. I do not believe I have forgotten anything you have said to me." His gaze focused on my lips.

My eyes widened. The intensity of his gaze brought our encounter in the stables to mind. Had I really told him that I'd barely felt his lips upon mine?

My, but the memory of them now was like an earthquake. The sensations he evoked shook me to my core, and I must have wavered on my feet, for he grasped my shoulder. "Miss Lovell?"

"Ah, there she is!" Stephen Trevelyan yelled, as if he'd struck gold.

Startled, I looked up to see Stephen Trevelyan escorting Constance on one arm and Katherine on the other. Both women were beautiful in pastel muslin day dresses. Since we'd come to work on the garden, I'd worn my old brown dress. I wished I hadn't.

"Is something wrong?" Stephen Trevelyan asked as he approached. He looked back and forth between his brother and me, making me realize that Benedict still held my arm.

"No. I was dizzy for a moment." I stepped back from Benedict Trevelyan, feeling as if I stood at center stage of a show when I hadn't even auditioned to be in it. He didn't release my arm, only frowned. Everyone seemed frozen. I didn't know what to do next. Stephen Trevelyan and Constance looked uncomfortable, as if they'd found us being improper. Katherine appeared concerned, but when her gaze connected with mine, she quickly averted hers.

Thank God for Robert He leapt into action. "Uncle Steph, Aunt Kaff. Come see the babies." Running over to pull on his uncle's sleeve and aunt's skirts, Robert freed everyone from the ice that held them.

"Babies?" Stephen and Benedict Trevelyan said simultaneously.

"Of sorts," I said, motioning to our herb garden. "More accurately called sprouts. It is a business venture we have embarked on. Cook Thomas has put in an order to buy our herbs once they have matured."

The proper rationale for an outing Friday fell suddenly into place. Besides, if I kept Benedict Trevelyan engaged in other activities, we'd spend less time in the stables. "In fact, I meant to speak to you, Mr. Trevelyan, about taking the boys to the bank this Friday. We need to investigate what they may want to do with the money they will earn"

"I will save mine," Justin said, surprising me by speaking with a crowd about.