A Bouquet of Thorns (28 page)

‘Well, you've been a bloody long time buying nothing!' Charles's hot breath was like fire against her cheek.

‘Exactly!' she sneered, her eyes snapping dangerously. ‘I couldn't find anything I liked, so I went on looking.'

‘I don't believe you, you lying little slut! You've been with someone, haven't you? Haven't you!' he bawled deafeningly into her ear. And not content with wrenching her forward so that he could then bang her head backwards on the wall, he flung her across the room so that she tripped on the discarded garments and fell on to the floor. He was on her in seconds, throwing her on her back. ‘Well, I'll teach you to be unfaithful to me!'

Rose glared up at him as she regained her senses, chin lifted stubbornly and her eyes flaring with unleashed wrath. ‘Oh, yes! You would, wouldn't you?' she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Some gentleman
you
turned out to be! Well, if I
had
been with someone else – which I haven't – 'twould have been with a far better man than you!'

The biting sarcasm in her voice, the challenge that glinted in her fearless eyes, scorched into his pride. His face seemed about to explode, his mouth knotted so that his cheeks were puffed out like footballs. He let the breath out through his nose in a squall of hate and indignation, but after what seemed like hours to Rose, who thought her heart had ceased to beat, he slowly lowered his raised fist.

‘Well, I'll damned well make sure you're not cuckolding me, you trollop! I'm going to London tomorrow, and you're bloody well coming with me!'

‘If that's what it takes to prove I'm not lying!' she railed at him, her tongue burning with contempt as he got to his feet and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him so that the whole house shook.

Rose lay for some minutes, stunned and lifeless. Oh, sweet Jesus! Why had she given in so easily? She hadn't, though, really, had she? She had forced Charles to stand down, not the other way around. But now she must go to London. For how long? Would Seth still be alive when she returned? If he survived, Beth had indicated that it would take four to six weeks for him to recover fully. Surely they wouldn't remain in London for so long? But Rose couldn't blame Seth if he grew fit enough to leave in her absence. Were his feelings for her as strong, as savage, as hers were for him? But what did it matter? It was hopeless. And perhaps it would be better if he left, disappeared from her life, without saying goodbye.

She crawled across the floor, found the clothes in which she had leant against Seth only hours before, and hugged them to her breast.

As it turned out, Charles planned to spend a whole month in London. A month in which she played the dutiful wife, behaved with perfect etiquette in the society circles Charles frequented. But inside, her soul was slowly bleeding to death. She thought of nothing but Seth, his spirit filling her every waking minute with ecstatic joy and tearing grief, and her restless nights with dreams and nightmares. When Charles took his pleasure with her, which was almost every night, he took her passiveness for compliance, not knowing that as she lay there, behind her closed eyes was the vision of a handsome, lithe young man with light hair and hazel eyes and a tender, gentle smile that lit up the sky.

She managed, just twice, to write him a short letter, praying he was alive to read it, and put it in the post before Charles returned from some business meeting. She didn't give an address, it was too dangerous. And she did not write of love. How could she, when she knew – they both knew – that destiny had sealed their fates long ago? On the day she had married Charles. The letters seemed ridiculous, farcical. For she could merely say she hoped he was recovering and feeling stronger. That she thought of him every day, and would visit him immediately upon her return. Whenever that might be.

The moor was enshrouded in a dense, grey mist the day they returned. The road from Tavistock to Princetown, however, was quite discernable in the early summer evening as Ned drove the Brougham up the steep hill. Rose's heart contracted, bringing a slick of sweat to her skin, as they passed the turn-off to Peter Tavy. She forced herself not to turn her head.
Oh, dearest Seth. Are you still alive?
How I long
. . .

It was good to be home. To be with Florrie, who hadn't known what to do with herself in Rose's absence. Charles only kept her on, he had told her curtly, because she had proved herself a good nanny to Alice and would be so again to the son he intended Rose should bear him. Not that there was any sign of it yet.

‘I need to take Honey for some exercise,' Rose announced boldly at breakfast the following morning, though her heart was hammering not so much at the idea of deceiving Charles but at what she might find at Rosebank Hall.

‘And where will you go, madam?'

‘Oh, Charles, when will you learn to trust me?' she sighed wearily. ‘Haven't I done everything you've required of me? I am utterly faithful to you, you know.' That at least was true. ‘But since you ask, I think I'll ride out to Vixen Tor, and then down along the Walkham to make a circle. 'Tis so pretty down in the valley.' And then a flash of inspiration – said with her fingers crossed behind her back. ‘Won't you come with me? 'Tis such a lovely day after yesterday.'

Charles looked up in surprise, and Rose's pulse thudded painfully while he seemed to consider. ‘No. I don't really think I can spare the time. I thought, though, I might go to the powder mills to make sure they've pulled their socks up now. You could come with me. See your precious friend, Molly Tyler.'

‘Hmm.' Rose tilted her head to one side, pretending to be making a decision. ‘I'm tempted. But my head's bursting after so much company in London and I'd just like some quiet on my own. But if you see Molly or Joe, you might tell them I'll be over in a day or two.'

With that, she deliberately came over to him, and though it stung her lips, she kissed him affectionately. He caught her hand for a moment, whispering in her ear something about what he would do with her that night. She smiled. And felt sick.

She was away, her spirit flying between excitement, despair and fear as Honey's strong legs ate up the ground. The road was so familiar to them both, and when they clattered into the yard at the back of Rosebank Hall, Rose felt she might faint. She hurried inside, trembling, and not even stopping to knock.

There was a figure sitting in the battered chair by the side of the range, a small, petite young woman who looked dreadful.

‘Rose!' Elizabeth nevertheless greeted her brightly as she stood up.

Rose was numbed. Something must have happened. Oh, not Seth. Please God, no. ‘Wh . . . what's the matter?' she stammered as she tottered forward.

Elizabeth smiled. ‘Nothing. Just the opposite in fact. 'Tis just that I'm pregnant and I feel awful. Even my own remedies aren't helping with the sickness. And late morning, this is the worst time. I'm just having a raw carrot.'

‘Oh, yes! I used to find carrots helped. Or an apple. But . . . what wonderful news! I'm so happy for you! And Richard must be pleased. I . . .' She paused, shying away from her own thoughts. Molly, and now Beth. But she gritted her teeth and went on, ‘I expect he's hoping for a boy.'

‘Yes, I think so.' Elizabeth's smile was content now. ‘He's never said as much. I mean, he's always joking about being surrounded by women. 'Tis why Seth being here is so good for him. But a farmer needs a son. Chantal's a great help. She's out in the vegetable garden now. Hannah's helping her. Or supposed to be,' she chuckled. ‘But you need a man's strength. Talking of which, you'll be wanting to see Seth.'

Rose gulped. And nearly melted into the floor with joy. ‘He's still here then?'

Elizabeth glanced at her sideways. ‘Of course. He's much better, though he still needs to build up his strength. He's been going out with Richard the last few days. They're down in one of the fields near the village. Planting flatpoles. Richard's asked him to stay on when he's fully recovered. We can't afford to pay him, but you know we've an old farm worker's cottage just on up the track. Used to be old George's, but both he and his widow have passed on now. We've said Seth can live there if he wants. He's still thinking about it.'

‘Oh.' The sound that issued from Rose's lips was devoid of expression, she was in such a state of shock. She didn't know what she thought, what she felt, at this unexpected news. Not only had Seth survived the fever but there was a possibility he might stay on at Rosebank Hall. That she could continue to steal away from Charles to ride over the moor to see Seth for . . . for how long? Until Charles found out? And his jealous rage led him to the wrong conclusions? For it wouldn't be an affair. Not in the carnal sense of the word. No. In that, she would remain utterly faithful. It would be a deep and intimate friendship, no more than that. She owed Charles that much. And one day, Seth would find a wife. It would tear at her heart. But to know he was happy and safe, and to see him on occasion, would perhaps get her through the bleak and barren years ahead with Charles.

Elizabeth gave her directions to the field that sloped down to the River Tavy. It was not difficult to find, with one of the farm horses pulling a cart loaded with seedlings that the two men were planting in the neat furrows while a young boy was keeping them supplied with seedling trays and working ahead of them, watering the furrows with a can he was refilling from the river. It was laborious work, and both men straightened up, arching their backs, when they saw Rose approach. She slipped from Honey's back, tethering her to the gate, and hurried towards them, almost keeling over with happiness.

‘Congratulations, Richard!' she called as she neared them. ‘I hear you're to be a father again!'

A proud grin spread over Richard's weather-browned face as he used the back of his shirtsleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow. ‘Thank you, Rose! Good to see you!' He was still smiling as his dark eyes swivelled across at Seth. ‘But it's not me you've come to see, I'll be bound. Go on, Seth. Take a rest. Beth wouldn't be very pleased with me if I allowed you to work too hard, and I think you've done enough for today!'

He went back to the monotonous, arduous task, and Rose's heart gave a little squeal as Seth came towards her, stepping carefully over the planted rows. He met her gaze then, a wide smile lighting his face, and she couldn't believe how much better he looked and so much more his real age. His gentle, hazel eyes shone, the dark hollows beneath them vanished. His ashen skin was now a healthy amber and his hair, not straw-coloured like Joe's but a deep, golden blond, was an inch-long cap on his head and already showing a tendency to curl around the nape of his neck. There was beginning to be a little flesh on his bones, and the hand he held out to her was strong and firm.

‘Oh, I'm sorry,' he said, bowing his head sheepishly. ‘I'm covered in earth.' But then he looked up again, his handsome mouth stretched once more in a broad grin. ‘Oh, I'm so glad to see you again. How was London?'

Rose couldn't answer for a moment. Seeing him so recovered, so virile, more attractive even than the vision of him she had conjured up in her mind, had quite taken her senses away. And yet it was a spear in her side.

‘London was . . . London,' she laughed at last, shaking her head. ‘Busy. Tedious. I hated every minute of it. Apart from the two concerts Charles took me to. I loved those. At one of them they played an orchestral piece based on
Romeo and Juliet
, by some Russian composer called Tchaikovsky, I think his name was. 'Twas very moving.' She broke off breathlessly. It seemed incongruous, telling him this here, nearly three hundred miles from the capital, when her soul was empty of everything but her love for this man. Who could never be hers. ‘And you, Seth. How are you?'

They had reached the rear of the cart now, and Seth pushed back some of the empty seedling trays so they had room to sit. He brushed the worst of the dirt from his hands, then took her around the waist to help her as she jumped up backwards to perch on the end. Their eyes engaged, awkward, wishing . . . but he stepped back and glanced down at himself, his palms spread.

‘As you see, much improved. I get tired pretty quickly, but it'll come.' He bounded forward, leaping up on the cart and twisting round to sit beside her, legs dangling over the end. ‘Did Beth tell you, they've offered me a cottage in exchange for work, if I want to stay on?'

‘Yes,' Rose murmured as her stomach turned right over. ‘And will you?' she hardly dared to ask.

His voice was serious now, cautious. ‘If
you
want me to.'

She gulped, her heart suddenly racing. ‘Yes. I do. But you know . . . you know there can never be anything . . .' Her words trailed off in a broken sigh, the pulse vibrating at her temples.

‘Yes, I know. I understand. But we can still be friends.'

She turned to him, her mouth twisted in a wistful half smile, so grateful to him. As if some intangible thread linked them together. ‘Of course. But my husband must never know. He's . . . well, a very jealous man. Which is why I should be getting back.' She wriggled off the end of the cart and turned to face him as he, too, dropped to the ground. ‘I'm so glad you're so much better. And you will take care?'

He answered her with an anxious smile. ‘I think you're the one who needs to be careful. Come again soon, Rose. But only when it's safe.'

They stood, facing each other, for just a few seconds. And then, once again, they did the only thing they could. They shook hands.

‘Did you have a good ride, my dear? You didn't say.'

‘Yes, thank you, Charles. 'Twas good to be out on the moor again. You know how I begin to feel stifled in London after so long, even though I realize you try to make it interesting for me.' She prayed her voice didn't betray the uneasiness that thrummed in her chest as she turned down the sheets that night and began to unfasten the ties of her dressing gown. She had been prepared, though, ready to deceive, and though the falsehood came easily, she hated herself for it.