Rose through time, p.11
Rose Through Time, page 11
"How brave of you to join the militia to protect us," Beth said with rounded eyes. “We are lucky to welcome you to Westbridge society.”
"Very brave indeed," Mrs. Blakeley and her daughters echoed.
"Did you know Mr. Chambers is also a military man," Anne continued, fanning out her dress and making a show out of sitting down. William frowned at Anne’s mentioning of his career. Mr. Danby appeared a bit uncertain on how to continue the conversation.
“Never thought of joining the army and fighting with the men overseas?" William said sharply to Mr. Danby.
"I'm afraid that by the time I joined, the war with France was already over, and I felt my skills would be more useful to serving the people at home," Mr. Danby said. William exchanged a quick glance with John before straightening his face.
"You are right," Beth gushed, not paying attention to anyone but Mr. Danby. “Serving our own people is very commendable indeed.” She patted a seat next to her. “Come, let's sit down. Would you like a small cake? Mrs. Avery, our cook, makes the best tarts.”
Mr. Danby smiled pleasantly and sprawled out next to Beth. John didn't look pleased when his little sister was handing Mr. Danby bites of food and laughing.
"Oh, John, will you sit by me?" Anne called out. "You must tell me which foods I should try." She fluttered her eyelashes fast enough to launch a plane.
"Go ahead," William said, smirking while nudging John's ribs. John joined Anne, and I had to watch her hand feed him a grape while her mother looked at the scene with a smug expression. I bet Mrs. Blakeley was already imagining her daughter as the lady of Hawthorne.
"Jealous?" William whispered with a quirked brow.
"Who, me?" I said, glancing between William and John, who was now laughing at something Anne said. "No, I'm definitely not jealous. I have no clue what you are talking about; I don't even like John."
"And I’m supposed to believe that when you are clearly regarding our dear Anne over there with the same disdain you’d show dirt stuck underneath your shoe.” He smirked.
“Not at all, she seems lovely,” I said, turning up my chin. “John clearly enjoys her company as well.”
“So, we’ve established that you have no interest in John in the slightest.” William emphasized. “Which means I get your companionship all to myself today then," William said, with a wink.
"I guess so,” I said flatly.
The leading topic of conversation during the picnic was mostly about what Mrs. Blakeley had seen in town, intermingled with the constant boasting of Anne and Mary's accomplishment, that is, until Mr. Danby took his focus off of Beth and the cucumber sandwich he held in his hand, and turned towards me.
“Miss Rose, Mrs. Blakeley was mentioning during the ride here that you were still looking for your family. It must be challenging for you to find your place in this town without any familial connections.”
"You haven't found your family yet?" Anne said, a sneer plastered on her face that didn't instill any kind feelings in me towards her. "What are your plans if you don't; will you go back to America?"
"I'm not sure," I said. No one except for John, William, and Beth knew about Mrs. Ashbrook claiming me as her grandniece. I really wanted to keep it that way, at least a little while longer. However, it was incredibly tempting to blurt out. I knew if Anne found out, it would’ve wiped the sneer off her face.
"If you are looking for a reason to stay, I hear Mr. Willoughby is looking for a housekeeper." I bit my lip and thought about the slimy man and the way he danced with me at the ball, a shudder passed through my spine. Beth tried to speak, but I knew what she wanted to say, so I gave her a stern look and shake of my head.
"My, these tarts are exceptional; you must thank Mrs. Avery for me," William said, coming to the rescue and defusing the situation. "You know what would be fun?" he said to us, before turning towards John. "You did bring the set, right?"
"Ah, yes," John said, hopping up.
"What would be fun?" Anne asked, a bit upset that her interrogation of me was being put to a halt. Not to mention that she wouldn't be able to feed John more bites of food anymore now that he was walking towards our carriage. The thought of Hugh sprawled out on the bench inside taking a nap while we were outside having a picnic was brightening my day. The man deserved a break from all the hard labor around the estate.
"Anyone up for a game of croquet?" William asked.
"Ooh, will we play in teams?" Beth said. "If so, would you be my partner?" she asked, canting her head and looking shyly at Mr. Danby.
"Naturally, with you by my side, I venture we'll be the winning team," he boasted.
"Will you show me how to play, Mr. Easton?" Anne asked, like a true seductress. I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't say something rude or roll my eyes.
"Do you need me to show you how to play as well?" William whispered in my ear.
I swatted at him and said, "I think I know how the game works but explain it to me if I do something wrong.”
The three men set up a course with the metal hoops that the croquet ball would have to be shot through. I had a rough idea of how to play the game but no idea of actual sports terms or scoring. The wind had picked up a bit more and seeing Anne try to keep her hair out of her face was giving me some evil delight. Even though Beth had told me some good reasons as to why the brunette behaved the way she did, it still didn't change my feelings as soon as I saw her actions in person, most of them negative and directed at me.
The first round of croquet, I taught William how to high-five with lots of amusement from everyone else. I actually managed to use the mallet and shoot my ball through the first hoop or wicket, as William explained to me. However, I celebrated too soon. The second round, I tried to reprise my success and almost missed the entire ball; it rolled only a couple of inches before stopping.
"I guess it was just beginner’s luck," Anne sneered; she grabbed on to Johns arm and looked up at his face. "Can you teach me the proper stance?" John awkwardly stood behind her, adjusting her grip on the mallet while she kept leaning more and more into him. She was pulling out all the stops. Her mother must have thought the same thing because she called out to her eldest daughter. Anne flashed me a quick cocky smile as brushed John's shoulder with her hand and joined Mrs. Blakeley. Her mother whispered something in her ear and the grin on her face thankfully disappeared. The pit in my stomach, however, didn't as John turn around and focused his eyes on Anne.
I stepped away a bit angrily as Mr. Danby was taking his shot, but William handed me a pastry and said, "You'll do better the next round." It turned out that he was right; the next few rounds, we both managed to get our balls through the wickets. We were now tied with John and Anne. Beth and Mr. Danby were two wickets behind us, mostly because Beth couldn't stop giggling every time it was her turn to shoot, and Mrs. Blakeley and Mary both kept shooting off to the sides despite Mary trying her best. Now, Anne was posturing in front of her ball swinging her hips as she tried for the best shooting position. John was giving her more pointers on how to hold her hands for the best swing. William and I had both missed, so I was hoping Anne would miss the ball so we'd get another shot. A gust of wind came out of nowhere and behind me came the tinkling sound of porcelain being smacked against each other. William and John ran to hold down the blanket so there wouldn't be more damage to the plates. Just as I turned back towards the croquet set, I caught Anne using her foot to guide her ball through the wicket. She stepped back and acted as if she had shot the ball and won.
Everyone else congratulated her while she looked pleased as punch.
"This is a perfect time to call an end to our picnic," John said. "The wind is picking up."
"We should have another outing again soon," Anne said. "I could use some more advise on how to play."
"I think you play well enough, even with using your foot to score," I said, a bit salty.
"I would never," Anne said, feigning innocence. "How dare you speak to me like that."
"Now, ladies. This is just a friendly game. Besides, has anyone else seen Anne use her foot?" John said. Mrs. Blakeley and Mary shook their heads no; Beth and Mr. Danby had been too preoccupied with each other to see anything, and William and John had been out saving the picnic blanket and its contents. "I think Anne was this game's rightful winner." Anne shot me a smug smile which made me seethe.
"Thank you, John, I couldn't have done it without your help," she said, her voice sugary. I was glad the picnic was over; I wanted a break from John and the rest. A quiet night in my bedroom with a book from Hawthorne's library sounded like just what the doctor ordered.
18
Puddles Of Water
A good night’s sleep put most of yesterday's ordeal out of my mind; I decided I wanted to do something outdoors. It had rained during the night, leaving puddles of water behind on the dirt pathways snaking their way around the estate. I liked it that way though; it rained so seldom in my hometown that anytime it did, it was like a special treat. My favorite scent was the smell that clung in the air after a good downpour, clean and earthy, as if all the world's sins had been washed away. My grandmother would chide me when I'd run outside, letting the drops fall around me, soaking my clothes and plastering my hair to my face. I knew she was never really upset with me though; she would hand me a towel, and as I dried my hair, I would smell cocoa heating up on the stove. She would use real pieces of chocolate which made the hot drink taste much richer than a single hot chocolate packet. Then I’d top the mug with a mountain of mini-marshmallows. It was funny how a simple thing like a puddle of water could trigger a memory of her. I'd been busy dealing with being dropped back in time, but still, even in an unfamiliar place like this, there would be something that pulled at me and triggered a memory, then the sadness over losing her would hit me like a gut punch. I never lost anyone before, not like my grandma. My grandfather passed away when I was much younger; not understanding the finality of death meant that much of the loss and grief passed me by.
In that moment, with the memory of my grandmother on my mind, I didn't care that, to anyone who paid attention, I would look like an idiot. I wore shoes that were way too flimsy for what I was doing but it felt liberating as I twirled and jumped and danced through the puddles. The rainwater soaked through my slippers and the fabric at bottom of my dress. Just for a few seconds, I wanted to recapture that feeling of freedom I had when I was a child, when my grandmother was alive, and any difficulty I might encounter would be resolved by ice cream and a hug from my parents.
"What are you doing?" William asked, a bemused look on his face. He was leading a horse from the stables.
"Enjoying the rain," I said, both giving him the full answer and no real answer at all.
"Indeed," he said, at a loss for words. “And this is a regular activity?”
“Not very often.” I stopped twirling. “Where are you going?” I asked, pointing at the horse.
“I'm just going into town for a bit. There’s some mail that needs sending and I’ve got to run some other errands. John can tell you more as I am in a hurry," he said. "Look, there he is now." William pointed at the figure of a man walking towards us. "I have to go; I will catch you later." William led his horse further down the path, then once he was clear of any puddles, he mounted the mare.
John caught up with me as William rode off. “What are you doing outside? The weather is unsuitable for the light clothes you are wearing,” he said, scowling at the sight of my ruined slippers and dress. “Why were you near the stables?”
“I felt a bit stifled staying in the same room, and I like the rain, so I wanted to enjoy the outdoors," I said.
"I prefer taking some air when the weather is dreary. Would you perhaps like to join me for a ride," John said.
"I've never ridden before, I'm afraid, unless you count the day we met when you carried me home on your horse."
"Yes, I don't think that counts," he said with mirth. "Come on, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said, leading me into the stables. My eyes had to adjust to the low lighting. "This here is Brutus, but of course, you've met," he said, pointing at his horse.
"Hi, Brutus," I said, holding out my hand. Brutus pressed his nose against my fingers and with my other hand, I patted his mane.
"See, he remembers you too. Now," John said, moving to the next stall. "This here is Molly; she's Beth's horse, and she is very gentle. I'm sure Beth wouldn't mind if you took her out for a ride today."
"Are you sure?" I questioned. Looking at the spotted mare, she did seem calm with big gentle eyes, but the idea of riding her made me hesitate.
"Trust me," John said. "You will be fine."
“You promise?” I hesitated.
“I promise that you will be fine, but you’ll have to learn how to ride.”
“Okay then, I’ll give it a try.” I nodded. “Can you give me a moment while I find something different to wear?” I said, lifting the dirty hem of my dress.
“I’ll get started with saddling Brutus and Molly. By the time you return, we should be ready to head out.”
“Yay,” I exclaimed, and darted off towards the house. The anticipation of horse-back riding with John was weirdly exhilarating. While John saddled the horse in the stable, I found Estelle, the French maid, dusting the furniture in the drawing room. She would be able to help me with a very specific request. John's eyes grew a couple sizes when I returned.
"Why are you wearing a pair of my trousers and one of my shirts," he exclaimed.
"You can't expect me to ride a horse while wearing a dress, can you?" I asked. Estelle had had a similar reaction to my request.
"Non, madame. We women don't wear men's clothing. It iz not done. I don't know 'ow the fashion in America is but this iz England." I however insisted, and finally, after some grumbling, she had found me a pair of John’s castaways. John shrugged and gave me a boost into the seat. I did catch him staring at my legs a few times as he jumped in the saddle himself. He led Brutus towards my horse and grabbed my reigns as well. He explained to me how to move with Molly and what commands to give, so she would stop and go. Mostly, he did all the work leading my horse around the property.
"William said as he left, that you would tell me what he was up to," I said, trying to make small talk.
"I thought he might want to announce it himself over dinner, but I might as well tell you," John said. "William invited us to stay with him in London for a couple of days. He is sending out letters to inform his staff, so they can ready our rooms. I'd assume you'd like to join us and act as a companion to Beth."
"Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun. I would love to come," I said.
"Splendid," John said, then he pondered something. "I saw you earlier, when you first went outside to stare at the puddles of water. Your gaze was so far away and such sorrow clung to you. I hope I am not overstepping, but I would like to know what you were thinking about."
I patted Molly on the back and gave John a watery smile. "I was thinking about my grandmother."
"Was it a happy memory," he asked.
"Yes, but also sad. She died not too long ago."
"My condolences, it's apparent you have had to deal with a lot of loss for someone so young."
"Thinking of her hurts, but the pain is lined with love. I feel sadness about losing her but also joy when I remember her smile and the way she smelled. A large part of who I am is because of her. She was my friend, my teacher, my greatest fan. It was her dedication as a piano teacher that got me to learn to play at all even though at times, I wanted nothing more than to stop."
"Your grandmother sounds wonderful; I wish I could have met her," John said, his voice deep and gentle. "What was her name?"
"Rosemary," I said, a small hitch in my voice.
"That's a beautiful name. Your family must be fond of plants."
"It's a bit of a tradition on my mother's side," I said.
"My mother loved plants and flowers; it's because of her that I have a love of horticulture. She taught me how to plant and seed and take comfort in every growing thing in our garden." John's smile faltered a bit. "Once my mother and father died, I couldn't bear the idea of the hothouse being empty or overgrown with weeds. The place feels like a refuge. Whenever I am there with my hands in the dirt pulling out weeds, or watering plants, or pruning back leaves, I sense her with me. I know they are gone. However, I can't help but feel like she's watching over me and nowhere is that feeling stronger than in the place she loved the most."
"Can I ask what happened to your parents?" I asked hesitantly.
"Father had to go to London on business and my mother joined him. Beth and I stayed behind which ended up being for the best; although, Beth, young as she was, had really wanted to come with. From the moment mother and father left, she was crying and angrily striding through the house. My mother had asked father if it wasn't possible for us to join the trip, but he'd said he would be too busy to entertain his kids. I was glad for his dismissal afterwards." John looked at me now. "There was an outbreak of cholera that summer, many people died including my parents. Manfred, my father's valet had said it was quick, which I suppose is some kind of comfort. They went from perfectly healthy to dead within a couple of days and I became the head of the household and had to be a parent to Beth."
"I'm so sorry," I said, I reached out and squeezed his hand.
"I've had some time to deal with the loss, but the ache never really goes away. Sometimes, I walk through the hallway and this floral scent of rose and lily of the valley hits my nose and it's my mother's perfume, the one I'd smell when I hugged her, the one she'd dab on her wrists in front of her vanity when she would go out with father. I can almost imagine her standing behind me. But then I turn around and she's gone and so is the scent of her perfume. Anyway," he said, cutting off his story. "This is a nice and even trail. Perhaps you can try to ride Molly without my assistance," he said, leading me to a grass path lined by knotted willow trees.
