Authors: Isabel Morin
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It was all Rose could do not to accuse Nathan of killing her father then and there. Fortunately, Mr. Ticknor chose that moment to begin speaking, and everyone hushed at once and began taking their seats.
Turning away, Rose hurried to the empty chair beside Edward and Vivian, her breath light and fast. Up front, several rows beyond where she sat, George Ticknor made his case for the first-ever free public lending library. Rose heard almost nothing that was said. Her mind was taken up in remembering Eliza Lynch’s seemingly innocent comments about Luke and Catherine. The cold-hearted calculation of it went beyond anything she could have anticipated.
Ticknor finished his speech and then introduced Vattemare. The applause as the Frenchmen took his place in front was so thunderous, it succeeded in jolting Rose out of her trance. But though even a day ago she would have hung on every word he said about the importance of sharing knowledge, now she wanted only to go home so she could think in peace.
After what seemed hours, the attendees were encouraged to partake of the refreshments laid out in the back of the room. Rose was desperate to leave, but she couldn’t very well drag Edward and Vivian away when they were so enjoying themselves.
“Wasn’t that splendid?” Vivian asked, her eyes shining with excitement. “I cannot wait to contribute to such a worthy endeavor.”
Unable to match Vivian’s delight, Rose murmured her agreement and hoped her friend wouldn’t notice anything amiss. She didn’t want to discuss what had happened until they were away from the house.
“Rose Stratton, is that you?”
Rose turned at the sound of her name, an instinctive smile forming as she recognized her father’s old friend.
“Mr. Winthrop. It’s good to see you.”
“I’d know you anywhere, though it’s been, what, six years? My sincere condolences on the loss of your father. Mrs. Harris wrote me of it only last month, but she didn’t mention that you’d left Lenox for Boston.”
Someone behind Rose made a choked sound. Turning around, she saw that Nathan stood only a few feet behind her. It was clear he’d overheard, for the blood had drained from his face and he stared at her as if seeing a ghost.
She’d been found out.
“Please excuse me, Mr. Winthrop,” she said, with as much calm as she could muster. “I’m afraid my friends were just about to leave.” Terrified of what she might see if she looked back, she hastened over to where Vivian stood beside her father. “I must go at once. Please tell your father I’m ill. I’ll explain later.”
She was trembling all over and her skin had gone clammy. It was all she could do not to bolt from the house, but it would be folly to leave by herself. Who knew what Nathan would do if he found her alone?
Finally, after waiting an agonizing amount of time for Edward to extricate himself from a conversation and retrieve their coats, the three of them left the house. Every moment Rose felt sure Nathan or Charlotte would come chasing after her, demanding answers, but when she dared look back there was no sign of them.
By the time Rose made it back to Walnut Street, she was fully panicked. She stood in front of the door and embraced Vivian while Edward stood just a few steps away lighting his pipe.
“Stay with us tonight, Rose,” Vivian urged, alarmed at what Rose had told her on the walk back.
“I can’t. Nathan knows who I am, I’m sure of it. It’s not safe to stay here, and anyway I have to find Luke and tell him everything before someone else does.”
“But Rose—”
“I’m sorry. I must go now if I’m to leave in the morning. Promise me you’ll be careful. Nathan may wonder what you know as well.”
Guilt settled over her at the stricken look on Vivian’s face, but she remained resolved.
Once she had made her decision she wasted no time. Going immediately to Mrs. Williamson, she explained her plan to leave early the next morning. Though the housekeeper looked surprised, she made no objection. Rather she insisted Jeremy go with Rose, as it would be much safer than staying at inns by herself.
Upstairs Rose set about packing only the most necessary items. The lighter they traveled, the better time they would make. They would reach the farm by the evening of the fifth day if the weather held. She’d overnight there and then set out for Luke the next morning.
Once she had packed she sat down and wrote apologetically to Lydia and Matthew Brewster for the short notice of the break in their lessons, promising to write again on her return to Boston. She wouldn’t let herself contemplate what would happen if Luke didn’t forgive her.
She had decided they would ride rather than take the phaeton, as the roads through the Berkshires wouldn’t permit a carriage. Five arduous days was far too long to ride sidesaddle, so she decided to forgo convention and use one of Luke’s saddles.
Jeremy tacked up the horses in the dawn chill, thrilled to be going on an adventure, as he’d never been more than ten miles outside of Boston. Even Rose’s subdued mood couldn’t quell his excitement. Mrs. Williamson saw them off with food enough for a week, looking rather forlorn as she said goodbye to her son. She bade him look after Rose and mind himself, and Rose promised she would write as soon as they arrived.
Rose was anxious to be make good time and urged the horses into a canter whenever possible, but they couldn’t keep up such a pace for long. Luckily the weather, though raw and overcast, held the whole way.
The land, originally covered entirely by trees, had been cleared in huge swathes for the many farms that now covered the hills and valleys. Even so the landscape was heavily forested, the bare braches etched against the pale sky. Rose found the barren landscape beautiful and a balm to her melancholy spirits, the cold air and the smell of woodsmoke from nearby houses fueling her desire to reach the farm.
They rode from sun-up until sundown, pausing only for an hour at midday to take their meal. The inns they stayed at each night were unexceptional, providing mediocre but edible sustenance and a passably clean room for the night.
The last day was spent winding their way through the foothills of the Berkshires on narrow, rutted roads, the forest close around them. This combined with the elevation had them shivering while their horses labored up the grade. Rose was exhausted, dirty and so anxious to see her aunt she had to force herself to let the horses pick their careful way along the trail.
In late afternoon they reached the top of a hill and she saw the farm spread out before them. There was the cornfield, harvested and turned for the spring planting. She could see where the squash, pumpkins, and beets still grew. A man she didn’t recognize – he must be one of the recent hires – came out of the barn and headed for the house.
“Is that it, miss?” asked Jeremy, his eyes never leaving the view below.
“Yes, that’s it. And never was I so happy to see it. They’ll probably put you to work, you know. No one stays on a farm without working.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I’ll help with whatever’s needed, just like I do for you and Mr. Fletcher.”
Rose’s stomach clenched at mention of Luke, but she said nothing. Turning her horse, she led the way down.
Aunt Olivia came to the door as they rode into the yard, staring at Rose as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she smiled and stepped outside, her arms wide open. Rose fell into her aunt’s embrace and held on for dear life.
“What’s happened?” Olivia asked, pulling back to look at her.
Rose glanced over at Jeremy, who stood holding the reins of both horses, staring wide-eyed at Rose. It was only then that Rose realized she was crying. Her confession would have to wait until they had some privacy.
Olivia quickly took the situation in hand, directing Jeremy toward the barn to care for the horses before coming inside the house for a meal. As soon as he was out of earshot, Rose looked at her aunt.
“The very worst thing has happened. Or one of the very worst things. There are so many of them now it’s hard to say which is more horrible.”
“Come inside where it’s warm and you can tell me everything over tea,” her aunt said, as sensible as ever.
Gratefully Rose followed her into the house, her tears renewing as she laid eyes on the place she’d called home for so many years. Here she had no secrets, she was only herself, with all her hopes and flaws.
Ten minutes later her aunt set a cup of steaming tea in front of her, exactly as she’d done so many other times when Rose was feeling low. Then she sat down across from Rose at the kitchen table and listened without interrupting as Rose recounted the events of the previous night.
“Heavens. What happens now?” Aunt Olivia asked.
“Tomorrow morning I’ll ride out and find Luke so I can tell him the truth. After that, I hardly know.”
“The crew is working in Stockbridge, not fifteen miles away, from what I hear. Some of them are being put up by families in town. It shouldn’t be too hard to track him down. Mind that a storm is coming tonight, be it rain or snow.”
“If travel is possible, then I’ll be going regardless. I can hardly stand to be in my own skin anymore.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry this isn’t a proper visit. I’ve wanted to see you for such a long time, but somehow…” She stopped, guilt overwhelming her as she tried and failed to explain the last few months.
Aunt Olivia took Rose’s hands in hers and looked directly into her eyes. ”It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. Let’s not waste our time on regrets. You know how I felt about you going to Boston, but I understand why you had to.” She sighed and shook her head. “You’re brave and loyal, and not many could do what you’ve done. But I can’t help worrying that you married Luke Fletcher to avenge your father. He would never have wanted you to throw your life away on his account.”
“It’s not like that at all. I love him, which may be even worse, because he doesn’t love me back.”
“Oh, honey. If he doesn’t he’s a fool.”
Olivia, Jeremy, Rose and several farm hands sat down to supper, the farmhands wanting to know all about Boston while Jeremy wanted to know all there was to know about the wilds of the Berkshires. Rose had trouble holding up her end of the conversation. She was too busy imagining what the next day would bring. Would Luke forgive her? Would she forgive him if the circumstances were reversed? Perhaps it wasn’t a fair question. After all, was not a person more likely to forgive someone they loved?
After supper she did the chores while her aunt took several dishes of food and headed over to the home of an ill neighbor. Jeremy headed out to the barn to see to the animals and the house quieted around her.
Chapter Fourteen
Luke was tired – tired of riding, of sleeping rough, and most of all of being away from Rose. This time out, traveling hadn’t given him his usual sense of freedom. Instead he’d thought about little but her since he left Boston two weeks ago.
He couldn’t wait to get back home and tell her about the fifty acres of land for sale in Great Barrington. If she liked the sound of it, he’d purchase the land immediately and build on it come spring. He was fairly certain she’d be excited, as it would mean being closer to her aunt, though come to think of it, she’d never said exactly where her aunt lived. In any case, it would suit both their purposes. They could even keep the house in Boston and live there for several months out of the year.
But his surprise would have to wait at least five more days, and from the looks of it he would not make great progress today. The sky had darkened in the last hour and now looked as if it would open up any minute.
He was miles from the nearest inn and didn’t relish the idea of getting caught in a freezing rain. Looking around, he realized he was no more than three miles from the Harris farm. Perhaps Mrs. Harris would consent to letting him bunk down in her barn for the night. She’d been cordial enough with him. Hopefully that would extend to providing him shelter.
The farm came into view a mile ahead, an orderly array of buildings and a patchwork of fields, some shorn of their harvest, others bearing the fruits of a fall planting. His horse picked its way down the steep path to the main house where he dismounted. As there was no one about, he walked up to the front door and knocked. He heard the sounds of feet approaching and took off his hat, ready to flash his most agreeable smile for Mrs. Harris.
Except when the door opened it was not Mrs. Harris but Rose.
Dumbfounded, he stared at her, unable to conceive of why his wife was here when she should be back home in Boston. Rose looked even more shocked than he felt. She had gone deathly pale and one hand fluttered to her throat. She was wearing one of the plainer dresses Madam Beauchamp had made, a rich brown wool with a high collar. A red checked apron was tied around her waist and her glorious hair was plaited and pinned in a coil at the nape of her neck.
A feeling of dread fell over him, the dull knowledge that what he was about to learn would change everything.
Wordlessly she opened the door and came out, her movements stiff. She looked at him directly and took a deep breath, as if stealing herself for what she was about to say. Finally she spoke, her words halting and unsure.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. Please believe that. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I was afraid.”
“What the devil is going on here?”
“I’ve lived here since I was fifteen years of age. My father and I moved here to live with my aunt and uncle after my mother died.”
Luke could do nothing but stare at her as comprehension slowly dawned. Still he said nothing, his body rigid with tension.
“This past February my father died. I told you about that.” She took a deep breath. “What I didn’t tell you was that he was murdered. I found him in the wood back there,” she said, pointing behind the house. “He was shot in the chest and I couldn’t save him. But before he died he said the name ‘Fletcher.’ I didn’t understand what that meant until I learned of the letters from your father offering for this land. At the time he was killed he was expecting a visit from someone with the railroad.”
“What does this have to do with you and me?”