Today's Embrace (9 page)

Evy settled herself on the plush leather seat, adjusting her hat and slipping off her riding gloves. In the close quarters she turned her face to the side to avoid looking directly at Elosia.

With a little lurch the coach started down the tree-shadowed road.

“A dreadful afternoon to be out riding,” Elosia stated, glancing Evy over as though she'd had something nefarious to do with the approaching storm. “I'm surprised you'd permit yourself to be caught in it. I don't know how Rogan has adapted to the insufferable weather in South Africa. Dreadful heat, I'm told; insects, too. Most disturbing. I can't see why he wishes to return to that dreaded land. It must be your insistence on meeting your mother's Boer relatives. Dr. Jakob van Buren, I believe is his name?”

Evy tried to ignore the slight to her mother's family. “Dr. Jakob is a medical missionary. He was acquainted with Robert Moffat and his Kuruman mission station.”

“Both fine gentlemen, I am sure, but with your spine you are hardly capable of following such mighty footsteps. Far better, if you simply must urge Rogan to the Dark Continent, to stay in Capetown and visit Arcilla.”

It would have been fruitless to point out that it was Rogan who chartered his travels to South Africa and had done so from the beginning without Evy's encouragement.

“Arcilla's in Bulawayo with Peter, not in Capetown,” Evy troubled to remind Elosia.

“Oh quite so, quite so. However, dear girl, if you were to stay at Cape House instead of traipsing off to that Zambezi, Arcilla would have a convincing reason for Sir Julien to let her leave that perilous place.”

Evy sensed more than one conflict in Elosia's expectations. On the one hand, Evy was considered selfishly motivated by insisting upon seeing Dr. Jakob at the mission station in Zambezi; but on the other, if she did go, she should choose the comforts of Capetown instead of the treacherous mission station in order to provide Arcilla the excuse she needed to leave Bulawayo for Capetown.

Elosia shuddered with distaste. “Why England should even bother with that wretched land is beyond me.”

“Gold and diamonds,” Evy said with affected sobriety.

Lady Elosia, who was amply laden with both commodities, changed the subject.

“I saw Mrs. Croft in the village a short while ago. Such a hearty, consoling woman. She did say you wanted to hire her.”

“Yes, I asked her to come to work at Rookswood.”

“We have Mrs. Wetherly. An astute housekeeper. And Bertha has been cook for simply eons. Mrs. Croft's arrival would only cause short feelings, I'm afraid.”

“I wasn't thinking of replacing Mrs. Wetherly or Bertha. I was thinking of Mrs. Croft for Rogan and me, in our suite.” Evy tried to keep the tension from her voice and avoided saying
private
suite.

“Oh, I should think Rogan is quite used to things the way they are. By the bye, it is quite time for some social entertaining at Rookswood. Since you and Rogan came home, there's been no entertaining of any kind. London is beginning to talk.”

Evy's heart quailed. “Talk? About what?”

“Your lack of entertaining, dear girl. Dinner parties, weekend guests for hunts, or musicals in the Great Hall. You simply must have social commitments. I do hope Rogan isn't going to take after Lyle and avoid interest in important functions. It is quite expected of him, you know. I'm sure you realize as much. As his wife you'll do your best for his sake.
Of course I realize your upbringing down at the rectory leaves you socially—well, ‘unprepared' shall we say? Nonetheless, do realize it is considerably important to be accomplished at handling these sorts of social matters with a certain finesse.”

Evy's cheeks warmed. “I can assure you that Rogan has hardly been fretting over a lack of dinner parties, Lady Elosia.”
Though you might be
. “Actually, he's been occupied with South Africa recently.”

“My dear girl! You quite miss the point.”

Evy understood well enough. Disparaging comments on her lack of social graces had recurred during the last two months, though they were never heard in Rogan's presence. Evy was beginning to wish she felt more secure about belonging at Rookswood.

“One thing about Lady Patricia,” Elosia continued, “although a gloomy girl, and I quite see the reason Rogan did not wish to be saddled with her, is that she does have good blood, you know. Really, quite good. Comes from a long line of lords, by the way. With, I believe, an earl in the family line somewhere … yes, Earl of Radbury. Beheaded at the time of King James. So, I daresay, she knows what is expected of her socially.”

Though Evy's humble upbringing and respect for Rogan's aunt kept a few well-chosen words from spewing past her tongue, her heart was far from enjoying the untroubled peace she portrayed. She could easily have reminded her aunt that if Rogan had wanted to marry a socially adept snob, he could easily have done so.

“Evy, my dear! I hardly think you are listening to a word I've spoken,” came the injured tone.

“I am sorry, Aunt Elosia, I … was listening. I'm a bit tired is all, and would like to rest in my room this afternoon.”

Elosia turned prominent pearl gray eyes upon her, and for a moment Evy felt like a butterfly specimen pinned to a board.

“Not feeling well, are you? Odd.”

“Not odd, when the fear of the fall grippe is prevalent.”

“That reminds me—”

Evy tensed and waited for the coming onslaught. A mistake to have even hinted of illness.
Oh, Lord, I'm trapped, and I don't know how to avoid the net
.

“Guess who I ran into when I was leaving Dr. Tisdale's? Mrs. Florence Tisdale.”

“Oh? How interesting.” Evy kept gazing out the window. She could sense it coming now, a boiling cauldron about to be poured over her.

“She wearies me with that constant twaddle of news about Alice. Another child, she has, Florence says. That makes three now for Alice and that lanky redheaded boy, Derwent, or is it four? I simply cannot keep up with the population in Grimston Way. And of course Florence wanted to know all about dear Arcilla and Peter. She was delighted to hear of Peter's elevation. He's assistant native commissioner now. Arcilla now has a baby boy, I told her. She asked about Rogan, of course, and you, said you were not well and had been in to see Dr. Tisdale this morning.” She turned her head and fixed a steady stare upon Evy.

“Oh. Did she? Extraordinary,” Evy breathed. “I wonder where she came up with that notion? Um, that I was ill, I mean? Did she say Dr. Tisdale thought so?”

Evy felt her face growing hot, and her hands turning cold. She would play dumb—evade the truth.

“I gather he did say you'd been in to see him,” Elosia stated.

In to see him, but he must not have told his wife the reason.

“You're not in the ‘delicate' way … already?”

Evy held her breath. “Delicate way?” she asked finally, while resorting to wide-eyed bewilderment.

“Pregnant,” Elosia whispered, the line between her brows deepening with impatience.

There it was … that telling word.

“Is that what Mrs. Tisdale told you?” Evy delayed.

“Florence is dreadfully curious, you know. She does a lot of shuffling around the tulip garden without actually coming out and asking directly. The topic of babies seems to fill her mind these days. And then,
gossip does skitter about, you know, and Patricia thought … Well, we shan't get into that! I hardly think it would prove tasteful.”

At least Lady Elosia didn't believe the malicious story Patricia had sown in London at Brewster House! Evy felt more kindly inclined toward Elosia for that bit of good sense.

“Now that you've brought up the topic, I'll go right ahead and say what I think of the horribly mean way in which she lied about me and Rogan in London.” Evy felt her heart thumping and her cheeks warm again. She leaned forward, clasping her package of buttons. “How
dare
she say that I had compromised myself with Rogan in order to steal him from her? That's what her gossip is meant to imply.”

Lady Elosia looked upset. “She remains bitterly disappointed about losing Rogan.”

“I've taken no malicious pleasure in her loss. Why then does she cast stones at me?” She smarted, remembering how the young woman's rumor had soiled her honeymoon in London.

Elosia shrugged and sighed. “Lord Bancroft is a highly respected man in Parliament. A man of powerful influence. The Bancrofts are not accustomed to embarrassment. You'll need to learn that people can be cruel when they lose.”

“I'm becoming well aware of that.” Evy sank back against the leather seat with an air of weariness. “Rogan and I are married now. One would think Patricia would tuck in her claws and seek her future. Surely there are other young men who interest her. She is quite attractive—physically. It's not only unkind but a waste of her time to get even with Rogan using lies and gossip.”

Elosia laid a jeweled hand against her forehead and closed her eyes. “I knew it was coming all along … the autumn grippe. I could feel it this morning when I awoke, like damp fingers of fog. I must take my tonic 'n' bitters soon as we get home. Now! What was I saying? Oh yes. Perhaps I was wrong about entertaining at Rookswood this season. It's unfortunate you've become so vulnerable in these matters. I must talk to Rogan. He will need to keep you from being devoured in the social
arena.” She heaved a sigh, as though the worst was about to confront them—so now she would hoist the drawbridge against invaders.

Evy knew a sudden moment of dismay. What would they think when they heard she would be having a child; would it not vindicate Patricia's gossip?

“Oh, I'd nearly forgotten. Here, my girl, this is yours.” Elosia pulled an envelope from her handbag. “Bixby gave me the mail as we were leaving for the village. Perfectly silly of him. I cannot think why he did so. As though I had nothing better to do than cart about the day's post!” She shook her head. “I do believe Bixby's becoming senile. I suspect this batch was really yesterday's, and he left it on the driver's seat. He must have realized he'd left it there as we were about to leave for the village. Shameful, really … Rogan won't like it if he finds out. He's very particular about his mail. Wants it immediately upon arrival … he told me he's expecting a parcel from Derwent Brown.” She looked at her pointedly. “Do you know what's so important in the parcel?”

It was the first Evy had heard about expecting a parcel from Derwent. Her own interest at the moment was fixed on the envelope she held sent from Fort Salisbury.

“A parcel?” Evy murmured.

“Couldn't be diamonds?”

Evy gripped the envelope. From Dr. Jakob van Buren. Her mother's cousin must have written from his mission station, but it was marked Bulawayo, not Fort Salisbury; why? She wanted to open it then and there, but Lady Elosia was still conversing, this time about Arcilla, and Evy preferred to be alone with her heart's emotions when she read the letter.

“Darling Arcilla, I still worry about her in that heathen land. And Peter!” She made a throaty sound of utter dismay. “Oh, what a ghastly mistake for her to have married the fellow. I told Lyle. I told Julien. Men! They never listen. It should have been dear Charles Bancroft whom she married. Dear ‘civilized' Charles. Julien's infernal meddling is barbarous. By the bye—” The wintry gray eyes settled upon Evy.

“Julien is fuming about your marriage. He wrote a decidedly ireful letter to Rogan.”

Learning of Sir Julien's displeasure was disturbing, but it didn't surprise her. Rogan hadn't told her about the letter.

“From the beginning, Sir Julien knew I was Katie and Anthony's child, yet he kept the truth hidden. You may not know this, Lady Elosia, but in South Africa he convinced Rogan that I was Henry Chantry's daughter by Katie, hoping to keep us apart.”

“I daresay, if Julien withheld information from Rogan about your birth, it was because of his concerns. He feared you would turn out like your mother Katie, who, I was told, was a complete runaround. She made a blundering fool out of poor Anthony.”

Evy doubted that was Sir Julien's reason for opposing the marriage. He had wanted Rogan to marry Patricia because Lord Bancroft had friendly contact with those in Parliament who held sway over British interests in South Africa.

As for her mother making a fool of Anthony, she doubted that. Evy believed her biological parents were equally in the wrong.

She ran away from Julien's house to find me
. Evy knew the same hurt tugging at her heart as she thought of her young mother being killed in the Zulu attack at Rorke's Drift while trying to save her. In the end it was the Zulu woman Jendaya who saved her, while Katie ended up being killed. This made her think of Dr. Jakob's letter. Would he mention Jendaya? If only they would get home to Rookswood so she could escape to her room and read it away from prying eyes.

“Even so, dear girl, you will never find me defending Julien Bley. I've never trusted him. He's as thick as Michaelmas pudding with Cecil Rhodes's men, and that, according to Arcilla, has put Peter at risk.”

Perhaps Lady Elosia knew about Arcilla's wire to Rogan about Sir Julien and Dr. Jameson wishing to provoke an uprising of the Uitlanders at Pretoria. Evidently, since Peter was assistant administrator to Julien and privy to any secret decisions, Arcilla must worry that Peter could be risking himself to trouble with the London authorities.

“I also think it's incredibly scandalous the way Julien's making a fool of Parnell by continuing to delay his marriage to Darinda Bley.”

“Darinda is Julien's granddaughter. One would think she would necessarily have a mind of her own on the matter,” Evy said. “Rogan seems to think she's quite independent. So if she were in love with his brother, nothing would stop her.”