Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

    
 
A
s
Rebecca reached the bottom of the stairs she heard horses at the front of the house and, thinking perhaps Timothy and the boy were returning, opened the front door.

      An excessively embellished carriage opened to reveal Octavia, entirely clad in a dreary shade of gray, all pieces of her ensemble a perfectly matching shade. Even the feather on her fitted bonnet was dyed the same monotone shade.

      Rebecca sighed deeply. Without Timothy at home she would be forced to entertain Octavia herself. Rebecca hoped that, with the man out, perhaps Octavia would not stay.

      The big girl unashamedly displayed her ample bosom as she leaned to step out of the coach, leaving Rebecca to question if American women found it acceptable to go calling in such flaunting attire during the day. She had not recalled any of the women at the party being so openly displayed, and decided that this was something Octavia chose as her own style.

      “Good morning, Octavia,” Rebecca greeted her politely. “Please come in.”

      “Where’s Timothy?” the woman asked and brushed past her into the foyer.

      “I’m afraid he went up to the cabin with his son. Would you care for tea?” Rebecca felt as if it were her responsibility in Timothy’s absence to entertain his friend as cordially as she could.

      “What?” Octavia snapped, turning to Rebecca, peering at her as if having just noticed her beside the closed door.

      “Timothy is out. Would you care for tea?”

      “I need to speak to him now,” Octavia stated, peering up the staircase and trying to see into the upper hall.

      “I could give him a message if you like.” Rebecca stepped up to the sizable woman. “I don’t expect him to return until this evening.”

      Octavia faced Rebecca in obvious disappointment and scrutinized her carefully.

      “Yes,” she stated as she studied the petite girl. “Tea would be fine.”

      Rebecca escorted Octavia to the parlor and went to the kitchen. Finding no one around she set out biscuits on a tray and filled a china teapot she found in a low cupboard behind several pots.

      When she returned with the tray Octavia was arranging the candlesticks on the mantle.

      “I’ve always hated these things here,” she continued to inspect the candlesticks.

      “Please, have some tea.” Rebecca poured the tea gracefully and the two women sat facing one another. “Is there something you would like me to relay to Timothy?”

      “Relay? Oh, yes. I wondered if my mother had been out this way. I haven’t seen her for several days, and, although Mother comes and goes as she pleases, I did expect she might come home earlier.”

      “I don’t know about Timothy, but I have not seen her myself. Are you worried?” Rebecca sipped her tea.

      “Not really, just curious. She can’t be far I suppose. The bank said she made a deposit just yesterday.” Octavia looked restlessly around the room and picked up a small silver box from the side table.

      “I apologize that I never met your mother the night of the party. Perhaps another time,” Rebecca remarked, watching the woman inspect the trinkets carefully beside her chair. “I’m sure Timothy will be sorry to have missed you.” Rebecca hoped that Octavia would prepare to leave, not entirely sure how to address the woman’s handling of the property in the house. She knew Timothy and the woman were close, but was unsure of their exact relationship.

      “So, tell me, Rebecca, whatever color would you call that dress? It’s a very vivid shade after all.” Octavia asked distractedly.

      “Are you and Timothy very close?” Rebecca asked, deciding she ought to find out more about the woman and changed the subject to avoid becoming rude.

      “Terribly!” Octavia responded, suddenly interested in Rebecca and the conversation. “I’ve known Timothy since we were children. We’ve always been so close. I was away, you know, when he married Corissa. I’ve always blamed myself for that, leaving the poor man alone to make such an awful mistake.” Octavia punctuated her conversation by fanning herself with her handkerchief. “How long are you planning on being here? I thought you said you were leaving soon.” She leaned slightly towards the smaller girl.

      “I have some arrangements yet to make, but I don’t expect it will be very much longer.”

      “A shame,” Octavia rose from her chair and flipped her handkerchief. “Then you won’t be able to attend the wedding.”

      “You’re planning on being married?” Rebecca fidgeted slightly in her chair, not sure she wanted to hear the answer to her question.

      “Of course. Tim and I will be married in the spring I expect.” Octavia strolled away casually.

      Rebecca caught her breath. She told herself she should not be surprised, she had suspected they might be close. Still the announcement startled her, hearing the words aloud.

      “I’m sorry.” Rebecca tried to appear composed. “I did not realize that you and Tim were engaged. I suppose I should congratulate you.” Rebecca rose from her chair, not entirely comfortable with the woman towering over her. She found the sound of the woman’s voice made her feel as on edge as the topic of conversation.

      “Well, it’s not common knowledge yet, but I’m sure everyone will know soon. I was hoping dear Tim would bring it up the night of the party, but as it was, we never got a moment alone.”

      Rebecca had no idea that Timothy planned a wedding announcement and wondered why it had not been made while the man was on the stage. He had seemed concerned with Octavia’s late arrival and perhaps he had changed his mind for some reason.

      “Congratulations, Octavia. Timothy seems to be a very fine man and I wish you happiness.” Rebecca struggled to regulate her breathing and felt faint in the warm room.

      “Yes, I’m very lucky to have him,” Octavia continued. “When I think of all the couples I’ve known who have rushed off to the altar without thinking, well, I just can’t imagine! Don’t you agree?” She turned and faced Rebecca.

      “Yes,” Rebecca replied quietly.

      “Why look at poor old Mister Freid at the party the other night! He ordered that girl, mail order you know, and then brought her right out in public to the party!”

      Rebecca sat back down in the chair.

      “I mean, I understand that when he lost that gambling bet at Rival’s he agreed that as part of his debt he’d let the men order him a woman, but then to go ahead and marry her when she arrived! I just can’t imagine!” Octavia ranted on completely unaware of Rebecca’s acute discomfort.

      “I mean, yes, maybe it was cruel of the men to send away for a woman as a joke, but then for the man to pity her so much as to actually marry her? Heavens! And the girl, what could she possibly have been thinking? Don’t you agree, Rebecca, that the thought of putting yourself up for order like that is cheap and degrading? Why, the girl is no better than a common prostitute. Everyone around here agrees, I’m sure. I just fear that those horse-brained men might get it in their fool heads to order more of those women as a joke. I think it’s ridiculous!”

      Rebecca could not listen any longer. She made quick excuses and thanked Octavia for her visit, while promising to relay her concerns about her mother to Timothy as soon as he returned. She picked up Octavia’s unfinished tea, set the cup on the tray hurriedly and stood in the entrance of the parlor gesturing towards the door.

      As she stood on the porch and balanced herself against the open doorway she tried intensely to appear composed.

      Octavia turned to her, standing in the hot sun beside her lavish coach.

      “This was actually very nice, Rebecca. I hope you have a fine trip when you go away. Please make sure you leave an address where we can send you our wedding invitation. They will be so beautiful. I look forward to letting everyone know when I become Mrs. Timothy Elgerson.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

    
 
R
ebecca
staggered into the dark foyer, her eyes blinded by the bright sunlight reflected on the porch, and pushed closed the heavy door behind her. She grabbed at her waist, fighting off nausea and clung to the open doorway to the study. Her heart pounded inside of her chest and she struggled to remain on her feet.

      “It cannot be possible!” her mind screamed. “I was upset about Octavia’s conversation and I had to have heard her wrong.”

      Rebecca ran to the desk in the study and began to frantically shuffle through the envelopes she had seen there the evening before.

      There it was. Plainly printed out before her, stark and obvious in black and white:

     
Timothy Elgerson

      Stavewood Estate

      Billington City, Minnesota

“No!” her mind screamed again. “How could I not have realized it? Mark. Mark must have said it. The hotel, they had checked into the hotel? The party? Someone must have said the name at the party. Someone
must
have used his name!”

      Rebecca screamed aloud and sank to the floor. All of it unraveled into horrifying place in her mind. The ad in the newspaper for the mail order bride, a joke! The limited information, carefully chosen, yes, because it was all a hideous joke! The terrible trip, nothing but the absolute necessities to get her here. All because it was set up. A joke! Timothy Elgerson had no need for such a wife. He was a man who would never consider such a thing! He had plans to marry a woman who was right here! Timothy Elgerson. The name cried out in her mind. Timothy Elgerson. Timothy Elgerson was young and intensely handsome and owned most of the territory around him. It was unthinkable that he would have any need to order a stranger for a wife. She had left her home and come all this way to a place where she had nothing and no one, because of a joke. Timothy Elgerson was here, he’s the man whose home she is sitting in right now and he did not know! He didn’t know she was brought here as a joke and was no better than a prostitute! What would he think of her now if he knew? She was no better than a prostitute.

      Rebecca wanted to run, if only her legs would carry her. She hoped she would just stop breathing and die. If she could only just die. Shame began eating at her, wrenching her heart as she sat in the dark foyer, staring at nothing. Rebecca saw nothing. The big clock in the hall ticked slowly, a bird chirped on the porch railing just outside, but Rebecca heard none of it.

      Alone in the dark hall of the beautiful Stavewood estate of Mr. Timothy Elgerson, Rebecca sat staring and felt as if her mind were slipping away. It didn’t matter that something inside of her was dying and she sat alone and wanted it all to end. She rose slowly and stumbled through the house, seeing nothing, as if in a trance, and walked outside into the hot afternoon sun. Through the garden and across the gazebo she walked, not feeling the sunlight or the air or her own footsteps. She walked silently into the woods.

      Time passed and she had to accept that she had not died. Her heart still beat and the day felt warm and the world still went on around her. Once the sobs began, they tore at her chest, and she knew that, however cruel life was to her, it nevertheless remained. She was still alive, she was still at Stavewood and her situation could not be changed, could not be wished away. It would cling to her and become part of who she was. She fell to the ground among the acorns and the ferns and let her pain wash into the earth, each tear disappearing silently into the rich soil beneath her. The land of Stavewood accepted Rebecca’s agony with no remark, no opinion and no reprimand. It accepted Rebecca as she could not accept herself and silently swallowed her agony and her spirit. Rebecca surrendered and poured out the pain.

      She arose as the shadows spread and she brushed the leaves from her skirt. She took a deep breath and stood listening. She felt as if something inside of her had changed, something elusive, as if strung tightly, but not quite snapped. Through the woodland she could hear the whisper of rushing water and she wandered through the trees following the sound.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

    
 
T
imothy
unhitched his horse from the buckboard, leaving Mark and his friend to dispatch the chickens into the coop. He rode his stallion at a quick clip to the main house and began to look for Rebecca.

      “Birget, have you seen Rebecca?” he asked in the kitchen, unable to find the girl.

      “No, sir. I know she was up to the attic today in search of some knitting things and I saw her in her room earlier, but I have not seen her since. It’s awfully warm to be indoors. Perhaps she decided to go for a walk.”

      The man had been concerned since having the thought of someone returning to harm the girl and didn’t care to hear that she might be wandering the grounds.

      After checking the rose garden and stables, his apprehension for the girl’s safety grew and he returned to the house to question the staff further.

      “Birget, she has to be here somewhere. What time did you see her last?”

      “It would have been late morning I suppose. It couldn’t have been much later. The girls and I walked out to the barns near noon and only just returned.”

      Timothy grunted and shook his head and decided to try the path into the woods. As he reached the clearing he stopped and listened, unsure if he heard a voice in the distance. He cut into the woods toward the creek, and the area of the falls, and spotted Rebecca immediately as he emerged from the woods.

      Perched on a flat rock, below the slow ripple of the falls, the girl sat gazing across the creek.

      Her sweet clear voice was melancholy and soft and Timothy listened carefully, standing at the edge of the thick forest.

       I want none of your petticoats and your fine silken shows.

       I never was so poor as to marry for clothes,

      But if you prove loyal and constant to me

      I’ll forsake my own true love and get married to thee.

      The melody seemed familiar to the big man, though he could not recall ever having heard a lyric to the tune. The song was pleasing and Rebecca’s voice beautiful and he began to step out to approach her.

      Timothy quickly realized that Rebecca had removed her stockings and had hiked her frock up above her knees. Her bodice was partly unbuttoned and quite revealing and she leaned back, supporting herself with her arms, as she continued singing to herself.

      The vision of her, glistening in the sunlight, her bright pink dress spread about her on the rock, revealed enough to show her soft beautiful complexion. Timothy came to an abrupt stop. Her hair tumbled free, tendrils softly damp against her face and neck, as her chest rose and fell in the warmth of the day.

      Timothy was captive, watching the girl, and he felt himself stir with desire for her. Her head fell back, exposing her neck and shoulders and he felt compelled to rush to her and take her into his arms. It didn’t matter what was proper, or what he did or didn’t know about her. He felt he could no longer contain himself and he wanted her completely. He strode boldly up behind her and as Rebecca opened her eyes she saw the soaring man standing above her and nearly slipped into the water in an attempt to gather together her bodice.

      Rebecca jumped to her feet.

      “Timothy, you startled me.”

      He said nothing and looked hungrily into her eyes.

      Rebecca felt her breath quicken as everything she knew about him now rushed through her mind. He looked at her so oddly… eagerly. Had her world been a different place she would be here, right now, passionately surrendering herself to the man and she would be fulfilled. In another world she could be his bride and live with him in happiness at Stavewood for the rest of her life. But this was not that world. In this world she was a joke, a common prostitute and, though every part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her, she could not. Rebecca gathered her stockings and shoes and ran back to the house.

      Timothy stood, his head bowed, and let her run back into the woods. He cursed under his breath, fighting off his overwhelming frustration. How dare he think he had any right to her, he asked himself. Timothy Elgerson started to think he’d gone too long without a woman and was beginning to take leave of his senses. With resolve he went back to the house to wash for supper and the sheriff’s visit.

      Birget watched Rebecca run though the kitchen, her dress nearly soaked and her shoes in her hand. When Timothy stomped in behind her she began to hope that there was something they might be trying to hide from her and giggled to herself.

      Rebecca changed into a clean gown and gathered her ragged emotions in preparation to go downstairs and face the man. Whatever he had discovered on his trip to the shack had put him in a very strange mood. She’d seen it in his eyes before, and he had come upon her so suddenly she was sure something was very wrong. She dressed carefully and arranged her hair slowly, hoping that the more prepared she was, the more easily she could handle whatever the man had to say to her.

      She checked her appearance quickly before leaving her room. Her hair was gathered loosely to the back of her head and cascaded over the shoulders of her fitted dress. She had chosen the royal blue for its serious tone and the neckline plunged slightly behind a sheer white lace above the bodice and featured a high, stiff collar trimmed in lace. Rebecca stood straight, gathering her resolve before leaving her room and descended the stairs.

      When she reached the study she could see him, sitting in his leather chair, one leg across his knee, studying the fire. She swallowed hard and entered the room.

      “Timothy,” she stated a bit more loudly than she had planned.

      He jumped to his feet and faced her, ashamed of his earlier behavior and faced her squarely.

      “How was your trip?” her voice cracked slightly and she cleared her throat silently.

      He sank back into the chair, unable to apologize, as he had promised himself he would. “Interesting,” he replied.

      “How so?” Rebecca felt that her response sounded cold. What had happened was not this dear man’s fault. She attempted to try again. “I was worried.”

      Timothy couldn’t be sure, but he thought that her eyes glistened with the threat of tears, yet she sat quietly and composed, as though with no emotion at all.

      “Awful, Rebecca. It wasn’t as I expected.”

      “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She had to face whatever it was he had to say.

     “Why?” He looked her in the eye and could sense… remorse? Why, he thought, what had she done?

      “I am,” she replied softly.

      Timothy was certain this time that she was near tears. Had he been wrong all along?

      “Rebecca, I need to know. Are you involved with the people who left you at the cabin?”

      “What? Of course not!” She was completely confused and stood up before him. “Why would you even imagine that?”

      “The shack was gone. Someone had dismantled it entirely. There are just some things that don’t make sense. I had to know, I had to ask.” He stood up to face her. “If you are involved we might be able to understand. Believe me I don’t want to ask you this. I just have to know.” He looked into her eyes pleading for the answer he wanted to hear.

      “No, Timothy,” she replied firmly. “I was taken by someone I know nothing about.” Rebecca choked back a tear and met Timothy’s eyes.

      “Did you see anyone on the train? Anyone who may have been hiding something or behaving strangely? Why would they have taken you up there and left you to die? Did someone… did Finn…?” He could not form the words to ask the question.  “Did anyone touch you…?”

      “No, no that!” she gasped. “I wish I knew.”

      He had no doubt that she was answering his question honestly and that she knew nothing more about being taken. The pain and pleading in her eyes made him want to take the whole memory away. How could anyone not see how delicate and helpless she could be and just leave her there to die?

      “We found a hole in the middle of the clearing,” he continued. “And a boot and a leather sole. Nothing else.”

      “The rat!” Rebecca exclaimed. “There was a huge rat that left through a hole under the cot!”

      Timothy decided that whether it was a giant rat or a possum didn’t really matter. He could see clearly that it terrified her.

      “The boot was completely covered in blood, Rebecca. How long were you there? What did they do to you exactly?”

      “I remember being at the station, I thought I was going to…” she caught her breath. “I don’t know. Then it was dark and I was inside the shack. There was a hood over my head, and my wrists and ankles were tied and I was bleeding. I had a pain in my side that has never gone away, I don’t know why.” The young woman exhaled deeply.

      “I’ll get the doctor up here tomorrow. I’m sorry, Rebecca. I should have taken you to see him straight away. I just had no idea.” Timothy shook his head and studied the girl.

      “Oh please. You shouldn’t. It’s fine. I want to just forget it all.”

      “Rebecca, we have to find these people. After dinner the sheriff will be up and you have to tell him everything. Do you understand me?” He took her by the arms wanting her to understand how important her information was.

      Rebecca looked up at him and tried to compose herself. She would describe Bedra to the sheriff and tell him anything except the reason she had come here. By the time the sheriff found the woman, and Finn had told him the truth, she would be far away from here and would never have to see the look in Timothy’s eyes and face the shame of what she was. She looked at him and knew that if he ever knew the truth she could not bear it. His gaze was so loving and open now.

      In a breath she fell into his arms and his lips were pressing against her own hotly. She felt his firm grip of her and she melted into his warmth and the safety of his strength. He pulled her hungrily into him and she felt his excitement firmly against her thigh. She wanted him, wanted his kisses, his hunger for her, as he pressed against her passionately, displaying his desire.

      “Octavia!” she thought. “Oh, no!” Rebecca pulled away suddenly.

      Timothy held her in his arms and looked at her. Why had she drawn away? He knew she wanted it too.

      “Rebecca,” he whispered hoarsely.

      “Timothy…” She began to shake. “I can’t. I don’t belong here. You have no idea who I really am and you cannot belong to me. I can’t.”

      The big man sank into the chair as Rebecca gathered herself and went to dinner.

      Timothy composed himself and, tired of trying to understand her reasoning, joined Rebecca and the two boys in the main dining room. He watched her face, hoping for some understanding of why she would deny something he now believed they both wanted and feelings they both shared.