Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (33 page)

"I understand."

"You mentioned that you found the women helpful. In what way?"

"Well, there were several baskets of silk threads, and when I asked one woman, a Miss Kelp, who said she was a seamstress, which would be the best for Mrs. Forsythe, everyone offered me their opinion. I never imagined so much thought could go into buying a simple basket of thread."

Julian took a bite of a frothy lemon tart, thinking that the village would talk of little else but the meeting with the new duchess for weeks to come. He glanced out the window, noticing that fast-moving dark clouds had blocked out the sun. "1 believe we are in for another snowstorm, Lavender. It would be best if we left for home right away. We do not want to get stranded in the village."

She took a final sip of her hot chocolate and stood up. "I have had a wonderful time, Julian. You have been very patient with me. Thank you for coming with me.

He stared at the smile that added to her ethereal beauty. He felt a tightness in his throat, wondering why in the hell he wanted to take her in his arms and assure her that he always wanted to make her life full of wonderful times.

As they walked out the door, he realized he had also enjoyed the day. Perhaps he was beginning to catch some of Lavender's enthusiasm for living.

Lavender allowed Julian to lift her onto the seat and cover her with wool coverlets. Snowflakes landed softly on her face and she laughed over at Julian. He climbed into the sleigh, and maneuvered the horses onto the roadway.

There were several women who bobbed her a curtsy, and she waved to them. "I will always remember today," she said, snuggling down under the coverlet. "This was one of the happiest days of my life."

It was Christmas morning, and Lavender stood at the window in the grand salon, watching the wind whip the feather-light snowflakes about. She caught her breath when she saw a doe and her fawn bound across the front lawn and down the slope that led to the woods.

She was so lost in the beauty that she surveyed through the window that she had not heard the dowager come up behind her until she spoke. "1 have always loved the view from this window, Lavender."

Lavender turned to face the older woman, placed a kiss on her cheek, and smiled. "Merry Christmas, Grandmama, and, yes, it is a magnificent view. I have not seen very much of the grounds since arriving, but I, too, enjoy the view from this window."

When Lavender glanced up at the dowager, she noticed the older woman's eyes were misty. "As a young bride, 1 can remember standing where you now stand, knowing this was where I wanted to spend the rest of my life."

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Lavender felt a tightening in her heart, knowing she would never have the chance to spend the rest of her life here. "I see children skating on the pond, Grand-mama," she said, changing the subject. "I can imagine how lovely the pond must be in the summertime."

"No, you cannot imagine, child. That is something you would have to witness with your own eyes to appreciate its beauty. On lazy summer days, when the swans glide over the water and the woods are reflected on the mirror-bright surface, you can stand where we are and witness the trout leap out of the water. That is the real beauty of it. This was once such a happy house." Her eyes rested on Lavender's golden head. "I believe it will be again."

Lavender knew she would not be here in the summer, and she tried to throw off her sadness. She knew long after she had gone, she would picture her child growing up in this magnificent house, and perhaps one day standing where she now stood. Was that the happiness Julian's grandmother thought about? She wondered.

Pushing her gloom aside, she smiled. "I smelled roast goose as I walked by the kitchen, Grandmama. It would seem that we are to have a feast today."

"Indeed we will." The dowager removed her heavy wool cape, and Lavender saw that she wore the new blue shawl she had given her. "By the way child. I thank you for the lovely shawl. I have not had one I love nearly as much in a very long time." She took Lavender's hand and her eyes were searching. "You have brought contentment and joy into my life, Lavender, so I want to give you something that I treasure."

Julian's grandmother slipped a long chain from around her own neck and held it out to Lavender. "I want you to have this. It comes from my side of the family and has been in my family for many years. It is well documented that this necklace was given to Anne Boleyn by Henry VIII when he was so enamored with her."

Lavender shook her head and clasped her hands behind her back while she stared at the enormous ruby that glistened as if it were on fire. "No, Grandmama, I cannot take this from you. I thank you most sincerely for offering it to me, but you should save it for . . . for . . ."

"I want you to have it, Lavender."

"No. It would not be fair for me to take the necklace, because you know I will soon be leaving."

The dowager's eyes became sad, and she slipped the necklace back around her own neck. "I do not believe that Julian will ever allow you to leave, child. I will just keep this necklace and give it to you at a later time."

Lavender watched the dowager leave the room, knowing she had hurt Julian's grandmother deeply by not accepting her generous gift. Lavender turned back to the window, watching the children as they slid across the frozen pond, knowing every day that passed brought the birth of her baby closer, and, thus, brought the day she must leave closer.

"Oh, Julian," she cried, resting her cheek against the stiff gold brocade draperies. "I wish with all my heart that I did not have to leave you."

Lavender's boots made a crunching sound as she walked across the frozen snow. So far the roads were still blocked and she could not get into the village. Unable to stand staying indoors a moment longer, she had gone for a walk in the garden.

In spite of the fact that snow covered everything, she could see the beauty that springtime would bring to the garden. The gentle slope meandered down to the Shannon River, and she would imagine what it must look like when the swans floated on the river, when the grass was green and flowers were blooming. Six huge fountains lay idle since the water was frozen, but she could almost hear the musical sound that the tinkling water would make.

She pulled her woolen, fur-lined cape about her and tried to ignore the icy blast of air that came off the river. She moved down the path until she came to an aged sundial. With her gloved hand, she dusted the snow away from the face of the sundial, and with her finger, traced the still visible lettering. SPEND TIME WISELY

OR IT WILL USE YOU HARSHLY.

She wondered how many events in English history had unfolded in the shadows of the old sundial, how many people had played out their lives here, to be born, marry and die, leaving no mark on the passage of time.

Moving down the path, Lavender rounded a corner, hoping to escape from the biting cold wind on the sheltered side of the garden. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the immense structure that glistened even in the faint sunlight. It appeared to be constructed entirely of glass. Filled with curiosity, she walked over to the building. Standing on tiptoes, she tried to peek through the glass, but it was frosted with ice so she could see nothing.

Hearing footsteps, Lavender whirled around to face a smiling little man with a face as wrinkled as aged parchment. As he stood before Lavender, he doffed his cap and bowed to her. "Good morning to you, Your Grace. I'm Muldoon, your head gardener. Would you be wanting to inspect the conservatory?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "I would be delighted if you would show me around, Muldoon. I have heard of conservatories, but I have never been inside one. This one is unusually large, is it not?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he said with pride in his voice. "If there is a larger or finer conservatory in all England, I am not aware of it."

"You said you were the head gardener. Are you responsible for laying out the gardens?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"It is easy to tell that you are very good at what you do. Have you lived at Mannington long?"

He rubbed his chin. "I was born here, as was my sire, and his sire before him. We Muldoons date back to the time two hundred years ago, when the duke married an Irish Laird's daughter and brought her to live at Mannington. She, of course, brought her own servants and gardeners. Since that time, we Muldoons have been head gardeners at the castle. It is a craft that has been handed down from father to son. It's a comfort to know that when I am gone, my son, Timothy, will be your head gardener."

Lavender smiled. She liked this little man, and he seemed to feel comfortable with her. "Will you show me around the conservatory now, Muldoon?"

"It would be my pleasure, Your Grace. You will find it very warm inside."

She followed him around the corner, and he opened the door and allowed her to pass in front of him. Lavender held her breath at the sight that met her eyes. It was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert, but in this case, it was more like finding summer existing in the middle of the winter. There was a virtual garden with greenery everywhere. Her senses were filled with the sweetly scented herbs and spices. She saw many different varieties of vegetables, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries.

"This is truly amazing, Muldoon. It must take many hours to cultivate and tend the gardens."

"That it does, Your Grace. I have twelve helpers just to tend the conservatory alone. You might be interested to know that we also have tomatoes that your Benjamin Franklin introduced to England."

She smiled and moved down a row of melons. "Are those roses I see behind the blackberry bushes?"

"That's right. There are not only roses, but also seventy other varieties of flowers. The flowers were planted at the dowager's request. She likes to have fresh flowers the year round."

"That is wonderful, Muldoon. I also see trees, at the other end of the building."

"If you will come with me, I will show them to you, Your Grace," he said eagerly, indicating that she should proceed him toward the trees.

Lavender was further astounded when she saw an apple tree with ripe fruit hanging from the branches. She laughed delightedly when she saw another tree laden with plump ripe peaches. "I am very partial to peaches, Muldoon."

He grinned widely, thinking how fortunate the duke was to have found such a kind and lovely duchess—and from America, of all places. "I will see that a basket of peaches are delivered to your room fresh every day, Your Grace."

"I would like that very much, Muldoon. Now I must go back to the house, but I thank you for taking time to show me your conservatory. It is truly magnificent. May I come here again sometime?"

He bowed deeply. "It will always be my pleasure to show Your Grace around. Any time you need anything, you have only to ask me."

Lavender moved out the door, knowing she had made another friend at Mannington.

Muldoon beamed to himself. He would just go on home to the cottage and tell the missus that he had met the new duchess. He would describe how she looked like a beautiful angel, and that she was kind as well.

That night there was a knock on Muldoon's cottage door. When the gardener went to answer it, he found one of the liveried house servants on the doorstep. The man thrust a covered basket into Muldoon's hands. "This is for you and your wife," the servant said formally. "It comes with the compliments of Her Grace, the duchess. She said to tell you it is in appreciation for your patience and attention this afternoon."

After the servant withdrew, Muldoon stood in stunned silence. His wife, Birdie, took the basket and lifted the lid. "Merciful heavens!" she exclaimed. "How can this have happened? We have a bounty."

Muldoon gazed down at the ham, chicken, sweet-meats, three tins of tea, and two loaves of bread. "Didn't I tell you she was an angel?" he asked with eagerness. "Didn't I tell you she had a kind heart?"

Lavender sat before the cheerful fire in her bedchamber, a quill pen poised in her hand. She had not heard Julian enter, and she was startled when his shadow fell across her face.

"I did not intend to startle you, Lavender." He looked over her shoulder. "Writing another letter to your aunt?"

"Yes, but I cannot even be sure she is receiving them." She glanced up into his handsome face, feeling guilty for keeping secrets from him, but not knowing what he was doing in her room. Her heart pounded as she watched his slow smile.

"Have you written your aunt about the baby?"

"I. . . no, I have not. Aunt Amelia would never understand how I could agree to leave the baby with you . . . when I return to America."

He watched her face closely. "Perhaps you will not be able to leave the child when the time comes."

"When I go, will you allow me to take the baby with me?" she asked.

His eyes flickered, and he moved around to sit beside her on the couch. "Never, Lavender. You will not leave here with my child."

She placed her letter and quill on the side table. "Is it still snowing, Julian?"

"Yes, I fear we will be snowbound for at least another week. Will you mind that?"

"Is there no way to get into the village?"