The Rose Garden

  ‘Actually, today I’m off on business.’

  ‘Business?’ I know I looked as surprised as I sounded, but really, that outfit …

  He grinned. ‘One of my holiday cottages up St Non’s way has a burst pipe. I’m meeting the plumber at ten.’

  ‘Susan’s plumber?’

  ‘Don’t know. Does she have one?’

  I nodded. ‘From Andrews & Son, in St Non’s.’

  ‘Then it might be. Working on the tea room for her, is he?’ At my nod, he said, ‘Felicity keeps telling me I ought to come by sometime and see how that’s getting on.’ And then, ‘She also told me yesterday you’d found a knife, or something, that you wanted me to look at?’

  ‘Oh. Daniel’s … I mean, Mark’s knife. Yes.’ My slip seemed not to register with Oliver.

  ‘Maybe I’ll stop in on my way back, then. Have a look. You’ll be in, will you?’

  I had to admit that I probably would be.

  ‘Then I’ll see you later.’ With a brilliant smile of promise he set off again, the bike wheels whirring as he picked up speed along the narrow road.

  And watching him, I couldn’t help but wonder if the tenant of his cottage was a woman. Because if she was, then her day was about to get better than she could have hoped, having Oliver and maybe Susan’s good-looking young plumber at work on that burst pipe together.

  I felt another tiny twinge of guilt that I could not return the interest Oliver was showing in me. After all, I’d met him first, before I had met Daniel. But I couldn’t help my feelings. There’s either a spark or there isn’t, my sister had once told me. There wasn’t with Oliver. Whether I’d met Daniel Butler before him or after him, I knew it wouldn’t have made any difference.

  I looked down and said to Ann Butler’s grave, ‘You understand, don’t you?’

  And I felt sure that she did.

  Coming out of the churchyard, I stood for a moment, trying to decide whether I should take the more scenic path through the newly made car park and down to the house through the gardens from there, or walk back the way I had come, by the road. I chose the road because it had more shade, and started walking down again beneath the arching trees.

  The day was going to be a warm one. Even the birds seemed to sense it and sang their songs lazily, saving their energy. Now and then something unseen, some small animal, rustled in the green and grassy banks along the roadside and fell silent. Everything seemed to be slumbering, and there were no dogs today bouncing out from the drive of Trelowarth to welcome me home.

  The dogs were likely out wherever Mark was in the gardens. But the silence of the house did strike me odd.

  And something else was wrong, as well. I couldn’t put my finger on it, to begin with, and then all at once I realised I was walking on hard ground and not on gravel, as I should have been. I’d missed the sound of crunching steps, the shifting feeling underfoot. And even as that struck me, I heard someone coming whistling out the front door of the house.

  It was the same tune that Jack Butler had been whistling on the morning when I’d heard him coming up the stairs, just after he’d climbed in the kitchen window. The same morning he had found me in his brother’s bed. And if I had surprised him then, the jeans and T-shirt I was wearing now would raise his eyebrows even more.

  I looked for somewhere I could hide myself, and quickly.

  The trees by the roadside were too far away to make a run for them. I hugged the shadow of the house and moved towards the back.

  Then, with relief, I heard another voice I recognised. And laughter. Daniel, I thought. Daniel out with Fergal, in the back. They’d get me safely in the house, before Jack saw me.

  Moving faster now and with less care, I came around the corner.

  Daniel, standing at the far edge of the yard, glanced up and saw me as I stepped from shadow into sunlight. But he didn’t smile or nod or show in any way that he’d acknowledged my arrival. He was careful not to. And I saw at once the reason why.

  The man who stood before him wasn’t Fergal.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It was not the best of places I could be. I couldn’t duck back around to the side of the house because at any minute Jack could come round that way himself and find me there. And there was no place in the yard for me to hide. I could do little more than freeze there, like some creature who’d been flushed out in the open and had caught sight of the hunter.

  Daniel shifted his position very casually, to draw the man in front of him a little further round. I recognised Mr Wilson from his clothes, the long coat of elegant dark-green brocade, the high-cut black boots, and the white wig beneath the wide brim of his hat.

  And then Daniel looked straight at me over the other man’s shoulder, the briefest of looks, and with a quick darting glance and a tilt of his head made it clear I should run for the stables.

  I did. How I made it across that wide yard without losing my footing or making a noise I would never remember. I didn’t risk looking behind me, not even when I’d reached the stables themselves and the relative safety of their shadowed stalls smelling thickly of hay. One or two of the horses looked over the boards at me, but it seemed they’d seen more interesting sights than myself in their time and they looked away, unimpressed. Scooting past all of them, I found a stall at the end that was empty and, slipping in, pressed myself close to the rough wooden wall as the after-effects of adrenaline set my legs trembling.

  I had no idea how long I had been there before I heard Daniel come in, heard his boots on the floorboards and then his voice saying, ‘’Tis no trouble.’ Then other boots behind his. Mr Wilson had come in as well, protesting, ‘You need not be my groom, Butler. Stand back, man. I’ll do that myself.’

  I tried not to breathe. Not that they would have heard me, with all of the noise Mr Wilson was making with saddling his horse.

  He said, ‘He will be glad to know that he does have your loyalty.’

  ‘When will you see him next?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Two days hence. I’ll tell him, also, that your ship is his, if he has need of her.’

  ‘Ay. Tell him he has but to say the word.’

  The big horse grunted as the cinch was pulled and buckled, and the jangling of the bridle told me Mr Wilson had the reins in hand.

  The men were moving.

  Daniel said, ‘If you do chance to meet our constable upon the road, you would do well to sing the praises of King George.’

  ‘Faith,’ Mr Wilson said, betraying his first flash of humour, ‘if I meet your constable, I’ll call him by his name and say his king sent me here to test the hospitality of those who claim to serve him. I may get myself a meal of it, if nothing else.’

  I’d missed the sound of Daniel’s laugh. ‘You may, at that. I’ll see you to the road.’

  When they had gone, the quiet settled round the stables once again, with nothing more than the faint snort or shuffle of a horse to break it.

  I heard the booted footsteps coming back, alone this time, and let my breath go with relief. My legs still shook and I was trying to convince them it was safe for them to move when all at once the man approaching broke into a careless whistle.

  For the second time, I froze in place. It wasn’t Daniel after all, but Jack.

  He came into the stable unaware, and clucked a greeting to the horses, who replied with stamping hooves.

  ‘Now, none of that,’ he told them, firm. ‘I’ve fed you once today already, and you’ve no call to complain.’

  His steps were turning now towards my hiding-place. With nowhere left to go, I slid a little further down the wall and closed my eyes as though some sudden twist of childish logic would make me invisible if I could not see him.

  ‘Why so nervous?’

  Two thudding heartbeats passed before I realised he’d been speaking, not to me, but to the grey horse in the stall beside my own. I heard Jack’s feet shift in the straw as he moved round till we were separated only by the thickness of the boards that made the
wall.

  He soothed the horse. ‘’Tis only myself, you great fool.’ But he said it with affection, in the tone men use for animals when no one else is watching. Then he changed his voice again and said, ‘My horse has turned fair skittish.’

  I had not heard Daniel enter, but he answered from the doorway, ‘Has he, now?’

  His deep voice, calm and quiet, filled me with relief, but I stayed motionless against my wall and breathed in tiny, shallow breaths I hoped could not be heard.

  Jack gave his horse’s neck a pat and said, ‘Perhaps he takes objection to the company he has been forced to keep of late. I cannot say I blame him.’

  ‘Do you speak of Mr Wilson, or his horse?’

  ‘Both. Though were I forced to choose the company of one above the other, I admit the horse did irritate me less.’

  There was a creaking of the floor as Daniel crossed it. ‘I would not have known,’ he told his brother drily, ‘from the civil way you did behave while Wilson was our guest.’

  ‘I have no time to play at politics. I do but give a man as much civility as he deserves.’

  ‘He carried his credentials from our kinsman.’

  ‘Then our kinsman must be wanting in his judgement, if he puts his trust in Mr Wilson.’ Jack turned and his shoulder shook the wall between us. ‘Christ, can you not see it for yourself? Or has your dalliance with Fergal’s sister blunted all your better sense?’

  There was a pause, then Daniel said, more calmly still, ‘Be careful, Jack.’

  But Jack did not back down. ‘She is not Ann, you know that? Dress her how you will, she is not Ann.’

  ‘I’m well aware of who she is.’ It was the quiet, careful voice that I’d last heard when he’d been speaking in the kitchen after learning that I’d had to face the constable alone. The voice that seemed to warn those few who knew him that his mood was growing dangerous.

  He would have known that I was somewhere in the stables, which was likely why he cut the conversation short by telling Jack, ‘And it is none of your affair.’

  I couldn’t see the look that passed between the two men, but I felt the tension of it all the same.

  ‘All right,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll say no more of that. And it may be that you are in the right as well about your Mr Wilson, but you will forgive me if I test that point myself.’

  He started saddling the horse, his silence stubborn until Daniel finally asked him in more normal tones, ‘Where do you mean to ride?’

  ‘To St Non’s. Wilson left his travelling companion at the inn there. I’d be interested to know how he amused himself, and whom he might have met. I’ve no doubt the information could be had at little cost. Do you object?’ He dropped that last phrase like a gauntlet.

  ‘No.’

  They said no more. The horse was saddled and led out, and Daniel stepped aside to let Jack do it, and silence settled once more over all the stalls.

  He said my name, then. ‘Eva.’

  ‘Here.’ I straightened stiffly from the wooden wall, and waited while he came to me.

  His face showed no emotion when he saw where I’d been standing, but he would have known that I’d heard every word that Jack had said about me, and his own replies. And since I didn’t want him thinking that I cared, I forced a smile and said, ‘Should I come back another time?’

  It smoothed the awkward moment over, and his smile, though slow in coming, warmed his eyes.

  Fergal wasn’t in a mood for smiling. Slamming down the plate and cup that he’d just carried downstairs to the kitchen where we sat, he wheeled on Daniel. ‘’Tis hardly something you can laugh about. Have you not thought what she might have faced had she appeared like that in front of Wilson or your brother, or the constable? You’ve seen the way it happens, when she comes and goes. You’ve seen it, Danny. So have I, and I’ll admit it made me fear the devil’s hand, and me a man of reason.’

  Daniel told him in an even voice, ‘You know it is not witchcraft.’

  ‘Ay, I know it. And you know it. But another man might not. You’ve seen a witch trial, have you?’

  Daniel didn’t answer. Fergal looked away.

  ‘Well, I have. And it is not a sight I’d wish to see again, nor yet the evil that the mindless mob does afterwards, the way they kill the wretched—’

  ‘She is safe with us,’ said Daniel, though his interruption seemed as much a warning to his friend to hold his tongue as it did an attempt to reassure me. From his face I knew he’d thought about the danger, too, before this, and if he had not entirely dismissed it he felt sure it could be managed.

  ‘Is she, now?’ asked Fergal, challenging. ‘And how can you be sure?’

  ‘Do you now doubt me?’ Daniel’s tone grew faintly frustrated. ‘Christ, any man who saw you so belligerent would think she was your sister.’

  They’d been talking long enough as if I wasn’t in the room, and I decided it was time for me to cut between them. ‘If I may?’

  I felt a little like a referee as both men turned their heads to look at me.

  I said, ‘There’s not a thing that I can do about the way I come and go, or where it happens. If I could, I …’ Daniel’s eyes were too distracting. ‘Well, I can’t, that’s all. But once I’m here, it seems to me the best thing I can do is to stay close to one of you, because you both know what it looks like when it happens. You would know if I was … leaving. And if someone else was with us you could maybe find a way to draw them off, or stop them noticing.’

  I watched them both consider this, each in his way, and Fergal gave a nod.

  ‘Ay, so we could. Though let us hope it never comes to that.’ He fixed me with a gaze that seemed to recognise I hadn’t really had a proper welcome, yet. ‘So. Did you eat before you came, or will you want a second meal?’

  ‘A second one?’

  ‘Ay.’ The empty plate that he’d slammed down before was still in front of him, and he gave it a nudge. ‘See, the first one’s been eaten, I’ve just brought that down from your room, where you’ve been lying ill these past two days.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ Of course, I realised, he and Daniel would have had to think up some excuse to give to Jack and Mr Wilson. I felt a twist of guilt that I had put them to such trouble.

  Daniel said, ‘She ate it all again, I see.’

  Fergal’s mouth twitched. ‘Ay, she has a fair appetite, so she does, even when she’s feeling poorly.’

  To me, Daniel said, ‘And a good thing you came back before he burst all of the seams of his clothing.’

  The mention of clothing drew my own attention to what I was wearing. Self-conscious, I crossed my arms over my T-shirt and faced him. ‘I’m sorry, I seem to have … that is, the gown that you gave me is … well, it’s …’

  ‘I did notice,’ Daniel said.

  Fergal had turned away and was bent over a loaf of bread, cutting thick slices that I assumed were meant for me. He paid no attention as I looked at Daniel.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  ‘It was only a gown.’

  No it wasn’t, I thought, and his shrug didn’t fool me. I wondered for a moment how he’d feel were I to tell him that I’d visited her grave – Ann’s grave – and seen the grasses blowing round it in its quiet corner of the churchyard, by the stone that would be Jack’s.

  ‘You needn’t look so troubled,’ Daniel said. ‘I do have other gowns.’

  Fergal, without looking round, remarked, ‘The flowered one would suit her.’

  Daniel looked at me. ‘It would at that.’

  And so the flowered one it was. When I went upstairs after eating it was waiting on the bed, the full skirt trimmed with a broad edge of blue that matched the small sprigged flowers, like forget-me-nots, that danced across the bodice of the gown. The neckline of the bodice, low and rounded, had the same blue edge. Its simple lines were lovely.

  I had trouble with my hair at first, but after two or three attempts I got it right and set the little linen cap that Fergal called a ??
?pinner’ tidily on top. If I could trust the little looking glass, I thought, I almost looked the part convincingly enough to leave my room.

  The sound of my door opening made Daniel call along the landing from his private study. ‘Eva?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is everything all right? Do you want help?’

  I crossed the few steps to his open door and breathed the aromatic scent of pipe tobacco swirling from the room. ‘No thanks, I’m fine. I …’

  He was sitting in the chair where he had sat when we’d first talked in here, beside the little window with his shoulder to the wall. A book lay open in his hand but he’d stopped reading and was staring at me silently.

  My voice trailed off. ‘It is a lovely gown,’ I said uncertainly. ‘If you would rather that I didn’t wear it, then—’

  ‘It is not that.’ He set his pipe down as his quiet gaze trailed up to judge the full effect: the gown, my hair. He said, ‘You did your hair yourself?’

  I raised a hand to check the placement of the pins. ‘Did I get something wrong?’

  ‘No.’ Daniel stood and offered me the chair beside him. ‘Will you join me?’

  As I sat, he sat as well and closed his book, and would have tapped the ashes from his pipe except I said, ‘It’s all right, I don’t mind you smoking.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Leaning back, he shifted round to face me properly. ‘You move well in a gown. Do women wear them in your time at all? Or are you all in breeks, like men?’

  ‘We still wear gowns sometimes. Not quite like these,’ I spread my hand across the lacings of the bodice, flat across my waist, ‘but we do wear them sometimes.’

  ‘I confess I am not sure which I like best.’ He smiled. ‘Where have you left your other clothing?’

  ‘In the box that’s in the bedroom. Underneath your shirts.’

  ‘They will be safe there for the moment. But you really should let Fergal have them later, he knows corners of this house where even I would fail to find what he has hidden.’

  Fergal seemed to have a lot of talents, and I said so.

  ‘Ay,’ said Daniel, ‘there are few to equal him. It was his own idea to tell Jack and Wilson you had fallen ill, and he did play the role of nursemaid so devotedly at times that I was half-convinced myself.’