Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (11 page)

Lady
Margaret leaned toward Rebecah, while Lady Kathryn finalized her transaction
with Mrs. Rigby. “Has my son gone home?”

“Yes,
my lady.”

“It’s
alright, Rebecah. I know how he feels about you.”

“He
told you?”

“Yes,
last night. I assure you his feelings are true and honorable.”

Lady
Kathryn handed Rigby back a doll and bid her good day. Once she was out of the
room, Lady Kathryn spoke.

“A
letter came to me a little while ago from Sir Cecil. He requests you go to
Ashburne and get the house in order. You are to make a list of all repairs and
changes that must be done, and a list of all the furnishings. You may leave
tomorrow.”

So
Lanley thought this would cinch an engagement? She would go, yes. Escape, yes.
Change anything, make lists, never. And above all, she would refuse Lanley.

Lavinia
entered the room.

“This
is as good a time as any,” said Lady Kathryn. “I would not dream of having
Dorene go with you. She’d get up to no good, I’m sure. Lavinia can go with
you.”

Lavinia
shook her head. “No, Mother. I’m not feeling well. I came to tell you, I think
I am coming down with something.”

“Well,
then go to bed.”

“May
I have some broth in my room?”

“Yes,
of course, my dear.” Lavinia leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek, but Lady Kathryn
held up her hand. “It would not be wise, Lavinia.”

Hugh’s
hound scampered into the room. A rope dangled from her middle. “Mama!” A curl
fell over Hugh’s eyes and he brushed it away. “I had Jess pull my wagon. It’s
my chariot of fire, and she’s my steed. But I’m tired of it now.”

“I
imagine you are worn out, my darling.” Lady Kathryn ran her fingers through his
hair.  

“Come
upstairs and play soldiers, Becah.” He turned to her. “I’ll be the Yankee, like
John Nash, and you can be the Redcoat. Lavinia can be an Indian.”

Lavinia
moaned. “We did that yesterday.”

Rebecah
looked into his sweet face and a pain seized her. She gathered the child into
her arms and hugged him. A shadow then fell across the floor. 

March
stood erect by the sitting room door. “It is bedtime for Master Hugh.”

Lady
Kathryn kissed Hugh’s cheek. “Be good, my darling. Do as you are told, and do
not forget to say your prayers.”

Hugh
sauntered off, his dog trailing behind him. And while Lady Kathryn’s eyes were
upon her young son as he left the room, Lady Margaret reached over and touched
Rebecah’s hand.

“I’ll
be sure he knows where you have gone.”

Snow
drifted across the land, frosting the hedges and fieldstone walls, settling in
the niches of Ashburne. A rider set on a fine chestnut gelding marked his
destination by the light burning in the distance. The flame swayed and sparkled
inside a brass lantern hanging from a pole beyond the door. His coming there
was unknown to Rebecah as she sat near the fire, upon the looped rug that had
been there before she was born.

The
wood seethed and crackled. She stretched her hands out to warm them. Nothing
had changed in the years she had lived there—the same furnishings, the same
books, the same painting over the mantle of a foxhunt.

Margery
stepped inside and handed down a mug of hot beef broth. “Here’s something to
take away the chill.”

“Thank
you, Margery. I’ve missed your broths—and Ashburne.” Rebecah took it in both
hands. The clay mug felt warm.

“It’s
been lonely since you went to live at Endfield.”

“I’m
sorry you’re here alone.”

“You
do understand why I’ve taken another position, don’t you?”

Rebecah
sipped the broth. “I would do the same if I were you.”

“It’s
a good house and Hampshire is a lovely part of England. The gentleman is one of
those Parliament men, and his wife is a godly woman to be sure, firm with her
children. I think I shall be happy there.”

Rebecah
thought about this new turn in Margery’s life. “You’re happiest with people to
care for. As for Ashburne, I shall not see it again.”

Margery
brows shot up. “Why not?”

“Life
is leading me somewhere else, somewhere far away.”

“God
will have to get Samuel Brent out of the way for you to have any freedom at
all.” Margery frowned and dusted off the table next to her with her apron.

“I’m
not frightened of him.” Rebecah reached for the servant’s wrinkled hands. “Do
you know Sir Rodney Nash’s son?”

 “The
one who left England to live in Maryland?”

“Yes.
Promise you will be silent. Promise, Margery.”

“I
haven’t any right to speak a word of what you’ve said. But a Colonist is not
the man for you. It means you going to that heathen country and living a poor
life and…”

“I’ll
go away with him, rich or poor.”

“It’s
just a fancy…”

“I
assure you it is not. And he is not a poor man. He owns land and is prosperous
and respected.”

 “But
the Colonies? Such dangers are there. Why just the other day in the market a
soldier told the crowd how Indians kill white women by the dozens or capture
them for wives. They take the slave women too.”

Rebecah
sighed. “I would not believe everything you hear.”

Appearing
dismayed, Margery shook her head. “Are you that much in love?”

“I
believe I am.”

“Are
those his letters that have been arriving for the last three weeks?”

“They
are.”

“Well,
for a man to write so often to a lady either means he is in love with her, or
after her money.”

“I
have little in the way of money.”

“Yes
but whoever marries you inherits Ashburne.”

Rebecah
knew Nash did not care about some crumbling estate house in England or any
money it might bring. The way he talked about his Eden made her love him more.

Someone
lifted the heavy iron knocker and let it fall. 

“Who
could it be at this hour?” Margery complained.  “A beggar, no doubt. I shall
not answer.” 

Rebecah
dashed from the room. She pulled back the bolt and opened the door. A gust of wind
forced itself inside, and Margery moved Rebecah back with her hand and held the
candle high. Quivering light fell upon a man in a black cloak and hat. Flecks
of snow lay on his shoulders and in his hair. He took a step forward and pulled
off his hat, revealing a handsome face.

“Would
you be so kind as to give shelter to a traveler?” He addressed Margery, but his
eyes turned to Rebecah. She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around his
neck.

Margery
protested. “I will not! We are but two women here alone. I’ll not have a
strange man under this roof. Go to the barn. There’s hay a plenty to keep you
warm and oats for your horse.”

“Let
the gentleman in, Margery. He is a friend.”

Margery
did as her mistress ordered, and he stepped over the threshold. She closed and
bolted the door. Nash took off his cloak, shook the snow from it, and handed it
over.

“I
shall not sleep sound in my bed tonight,” Margery tossed it over her arm. “Unless
you’re loyal to His Majesty King George and swear to do right by two women.”

Nash
inclined his head and smiled. “The King will not lose sleep over my politics
tonight, and neither should you, madam. As far as doing right by you and the
lady, you’ve nothing to fear from me.”

Margery
huffed her way over to the fire and put his cloak across the back of a chair to
dry. “Well then, you’ll not mind knowing I keep a pistol under my pillow and
that the floors of this old house creak.”

“Margery,
this is John Nash—Sir Rodney’s son.”

“Is
he? Well, it ain’t proper you should come here at this hour, sir. Tongues will
wag.”

“Only
if you do the wagging.” Rebecah turned her toward the door. “Now, go to the
kitchen and bring back a plate of food for Mr. Nash. He looks hungry.”

Margery
toddled off, mumbling under her breath.

“I
did not give you fair warning. Forgive me.” Nash sat in a chair near the fire. “It
was growing dark and the snow deepens.”

“It’s
alright. Standforth is still a distance, and you needed shelter.”

“Truly
that is the reason I stopped.”

Rebecah
lowered to the carpet. He noticed her feet were bare and was quick to point out
how lovely they were in the glow of the fire, how her hair fell in thick waves
over one shoulder, and how her skin glowed in the firelight.

“Were
you able to finish your business in the north?” 

“Yes,
I’m free of it. I stayed three days with a man of my father’s acquaintance.  I’m
more than convinced I’ve done the right thing after talking with him, plus I
had plenty of time to think. And you, I could not get out of my mind, day or
night.”

Margery
brought in a tray. “Here’s a meal for you, sir, with good English ale. I
daresay it will taste better than any Mr. Adams could offer.”

“Thank
you,” Nash said. “If I see Mr. Adams, I’ll tell him you said so.”

Rebecah
smiled and watched him while he ate the stew. He paused and gazed back at her.

“Aren’t
you going to have any? It’s good.”

“I’ve
had mine.” She leaned against the chair behind her. He continued gazing at her,
the corners of his mouth turning into a smile. After one more mouthful, he put
the spoon down and drank his ale.

“She’s
wrong. American ale is better.” He dug back into the stew. “So, does Brent
still plan to marry you off to Lanley?”

“Yes.”

 “You
will stay in England and I’ll go home to Laurel Hill, unless you’ve decided
differently.” 

 “I’ve
decided long ago not to marry him, if that is what you mean.”

 Taking
her hands in hers, he knelt. “Rebecah, marry me.”

“Marry
you?”

“Yes,”
he said, his eyes shining.

“I
am not an easy person to live with.”

“Nor
am I.”

 “I
am sullen and quiet. I read constantly, and I’m not always a lady. Some say I
speak my mind too boldly, and I should be more reserved.”

“What
you mean to say is you think deeply about things and settle your mind by being
alone. And your hands are the loveliest I’ve seen. Your hair is beautiful, and
you should wear it like that all the time. You’re self-educated and like to
ride bareback. You have opinions worth hearing, and have a lively spirit.” 

She
lowered her eyes.

“You
are everything I admire—all I want.”

They
were silent a moment, the fire the only sound in the room. He kept her hands
within his.

She
laid her head against his chest. “Last night, I dreamed you left. I woke with
the most awful feeling I would never see you again.”

Nash
took her in his arms and his lips touched hers. She closed her eyes. “Oh, I
feel as if I’m floating,” she said with quickened breath. “And my heart, it
pounds so.”

“Then
come away with me. We can leave tomorrow. I’ll take you to Standforth first, to
tell my father and Lady Margaret. They’ll keep our secret until we have gone.” 

She
leaned against him, rested her head on his shoulder. The fire crackled and
seethed. Wind whispered. They talked long into the night, of their plans, their
dreams, until the hall clock struck out midnight and they fell asleep in each
other’s arms.

* * *

Morn
approached. The house felt cold, but the coziness of it remained. Together they
breakfasted on warm scones and tea. Before they were through, Margery burst
into the room. 

“There’s
a rider making his way to the house. It looks like Henry Carrow.”  

Rebecah
hurried to the window and looked outside. The sky was heavy with clouds, the
land heavy in snow. After a moment, she recognized Henry and the horse he rode.

Cold
air rushed inside the house when Margery opened the door. Henry climbed off his
horse. He looked exhausted, frozen from the journey. Hastily dressed, his shirt
poked through the top of his coat. His woolen scarf was tied in a knot at his
throat and his hat sat awry on his head. His boots were his field boots.

Rebecah
drew him inside. “Henry. What is it? Is something the matter?”

“I
came as fast as I could.” Henry breathed hard. “You’re needed back at
Endfield.” He glanced over at Nash standing in the doorway of the sitting
room.  “Hello, Mr. John. Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Margery,
get Henry something warm to drink,” Rebecah said. “Henry, Mr. Nash was caught
in the snow.”

Henry
shook his head. “The wind were fierce, weren’t it? I’m glad the snow didn’t
come too deep, else I don’t think I would have made it here.”

“Come
sit by the fire,” she urged. “What has happened at Endfield? Tell me.”

In
front of the fire, Henry put out his hands and rubbed them vigorously. “Her
ladyship and Miss Lavinia are sick. The fever, that’s what’s got them and some folks
in the village. The doctor says he’s quarantining the whole place and the
bordering farms.”

Dread
stole inside Rebecah. “And my uncle? Has he remained in London?”

“Aye,”
Henry frowned, drinking Margery’s hot broth. “I suppose he’ll be coming home.
Lady Kathryn called for me and told me to find you. She wants you with her.”

“Then
we must go,” Rebecah said urgently.

“I’ll
saddle your horse for you.” Henry set his mug down and left. He looked over at
Nash worried. “Mr. John, word is this thing has spread as far as Standforth.
Your parents are at risk.”

Nash
looked startled. “Then I must leave immediately.” He picked up his hat and
cloak, reached for Rebecah’s hand and held it. “I’ll ride with you to the
border of Endfield to be sure you and Henry arrive safe. Send me word as soon
as you can. And when this is over…”

She
leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I know, Jack.”