The Eden Passion (14 page)

She was halfway out of the door before she answered. "As soon as you're ready. We'll have dinner here, together."

Then she was gone, and he was alone with Aggie staring at him, and Dana. There was a moment's pause during which time he tried to digest the vacuum caused by her absence.

Then Aggie was upon him, muttering something about the "foolishness of it all," and he gave himself over completely to the strength of her hands, and saw Dana in attendance, supporting him as she stripped off his soiled trousers and plunged him into the hot steaming water, injured foot and all.

For a moment everything went around in circles, the stinging so severe that tears came to his eyes. But he kept still because to cry out would be like a boy. And he wanted nothing more to do with boyhood.

In spite of the crush of duties which were pressing upon her, Harriet sat at her dressing table, with Peggy in hovering attendance, and looked down at her wrists as though she saw fetters. They were forged from nothing but her new and mysterious willingness to let everyone in the castle tend to themselves.

Now, as Peggy expertly brushed and looped her hair into a French knot, Harriet marveled again at her new attitude. Never before had she luxuriated in the pleasing vapors of a perfumed bath before dinner. And why had she selected this primrose-pink silk gown cut low in the bodice and delicately trimmed with Brussels lace? No reason except that it made her look and feel like a young girl.

"Which jewels, my lady?" Peggy asked, lifting the jewel case for her selection.

Harriet hesitated. Then, "None," she said and looked up, shocked

by her own response. The blush was there in her reflected image for both to see.

Diplomatically Peggy closed the jewel case and murmured in tactful agreement, "The gown is sufficient. It needs nothing.*'

As Peggy tidied up the articles of toilet, Harriet moved away from the dressing table to the sideboard and the decanter of brandy. No, she must wait. Behind her she heard Peggy still at work. "Why don't you leave that until later?"

'Very well, my lady." Obedient to a fault, Peggy moved instantly to the door.

"One small request," Harriet called after her. "Would you please take a message to Lord Eden," she began, keeping her face turned away. "Tell him that I shall not be dining with him tonight."

And at last, blessedly, Peggy was gone. Harriet held her position by the sideboard. Abruptly she leaned softly against the wall. What had come over her? Look how her hands trembled, and there, her reflection in the glass, a woman with flushed cheeks. She was behaving as though she were sixteen. No, worsel Even at sixteen she'd not given in to these foolish sensations.

Now she glanced nervously about and indulged in the comfort of one small brandy. Feeling steadier at the first sip, she took the glass to a near chair and sat primly on the edge. She sipped again, and at last settled back into the arms of the chair, wondering bleakly when all of her ignored duties would catch up with her.

Well, no need to think on it. They would come soon enough. For now she was blessedly alone, groomed, for her evening appointment with . . .

Then he was before her, in her imagination, those earnest blue eyes following the movement of her fingers on his chest.

No! Angrily she sipped again in an attempt to dispel his image. Had she lost all sense? He was a mere boy.

Again she tipped the snifter and drained it and felt a lassitude extending to all parts of her body. How pleasant it was to sit and do nothing but wait for the summons to reenter his chamber.

He was a boy.

Then she would have to take certain steps. She would have to see to it that she was never alone with him. At all times she must contrive for others to be in the chamber with them, or at table, or walking the headlands, or riding the moors.

She held still, the storm subsiding. She had survived mightier storms and would survive this one. It had simply been the inter-

secting of certain circumstances, that was all, the boy's remarkable resemblance to Edward, the remembrance of that day.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Wait," she called out, not wanting anyone to see her in this state.

Coming from the other side, she heard the voice of a steward. "Just come to inform you, my lady, that Aggie is ready to serve dinner in Mr. Eden's chambers. He's waiting."

She lifted her head and issued a terse command. "Fetch my children!"

She listened to his footsteps. The children would keep her safe. How pleased Richard would be. And male companionship would be good for Mary as well, take her away from Clara's indulgent affection.

Again the heavy storm was subsiding. How foolish she had been. Carefully she stood and walked the short distance to her wardrobe, where she reached inside and found the comfort of a black, high-necked, safe gown, bereft of hope.

She changed quickly, her eyes not once lifting to the glass, her fingers moving down one row of buttons and up another. Only when she tried to manipulate the buttons high up on her throat did she glance at her reflection. What an image that was! Her face appeared older, thinner, the hollows at her temples deeper.

Thus changed, she walked back to her chair and tested herself. It was Edward waiting for her, not in dream or fantasy, but truly Edward, younger, at the height of his powers, waiting to receive her, to run together through the high summer sun to the secret glen where, undetected, they would shed their clothes and catalog their respective beauty.

She held still in the chair. Nothing. All strength and dexterity was firmly in place. Now her foot would make no false step.

Relieved to be herself again, she went to the door, where she heard her children's chattering approach.

Slightly bewildered, she glanced down at the small half-moons of blood on the palm of her left hand where her fingernails had cut into the flesh, the nails themselves bent back to the quick.

Before now, John had thought that Elizabeth was the only female in the world who took cruel delight in a scrub brush and a cake of lye soap. But Elizabeth's touch had been a caress compared to Aggie's brutal scraping. And not a shred of modesty had the old woman exhibited, moving indomitably over all parts of his body, her only ut-

terance a grunt now and then aimed at Dana to, "Shift him," and 'Turn him to."

Now seated gingerly on the edge of the bed in a fine white nightshirt with lace trim, John gazed down on the physician, a plain middle-aged man with sober countenance who seemed more impressed by his surroundings than the state of the foot suspended between his hands. "A nagging but superficial wound," he'd pronounced, had applied a camphor plaster and was now in the process of wrapping it in soft clean muslin.

Then Aggie was there again, drawing the coverlet up about him, adjusting his pillows so that he might sit erect. Briefly, with Aggie still hovering over him, he experienced his first and profound sense of homecoming. No more temporary residence in the Ragged School of the moment, no more dismal cell at the top of the stairs of the house in Bermondsey. He had waited a long time for this particular dream, but now it had come true. He was in residence at Eden, a true Eden himself, welcomed at least by one into the bosom of the family.

Aggie stood back, still dropping pronouncements upon his head. "You need food now," she said. "Aggie's best, and you shall have it."

Before he could find out what "Aggie's best" was, he saw her lumber to the door and command a steward, "Go inform her ladyship that the lad is cleansed. Then follow behind to the kitchen. I'll have need of several hands."

As the steward left the room, John sat up, eager to see "her ladyship" again, but wishing that he did not have to greet her from this helpless, childlike position in bed.

Then, just as the last maid was making the final adjustments on an elegant bouquet of summer flowers, he heard a soft knock at the door.

It was Lady Eden, though he was in no way prepared for what first greeted his eyes, two children in nightshirts with loosely fitted gray dressing robes hanging tentlike about their small frames.

They stopped in the doorway, gaping and shy. He recognized Richard, the boy who had greeted him first on that grim night of his arrival at Eden. And the little girl standing beside him, her blond head bowed with the weight of timidity, was most probably his sister.

No, he hadn't expected this, and sat up a bit straighter and tried to catch a glimpse of the woman who still stood safely in shadows just beyond the door. Why the children? He'd looked forward to a

private meeting, alone with that gentle presence who had rescued him from the odd-boy cellar. And even before she stepped forward into the room, he discerned a change, something disagreeably hard in the manner in which she was using her children as though they were shields.

"My children, John," she began, sounding older. "They expressed a great desire to meet their cousin."

He liked that. Cousin. Kinship.

"You've met Richard, I believe," she went on, still standing by the door.

John nodded and dragged his attention away from her peculiar performance to the slight dark boy who was staring mercilessly at him. "Of course, I remember Richard. Good evening." He smiled at the boy, who seemed incapable of response. Peculiar. He remembered him that first night as being quite talkative.

"And that is Mary," she said, still bound to her position at the door.

At the mention of her name, the plump little girl seemed to press closer to her brother, her blond curly head down, one tiny thumb inserted into her mouth.

"Mary," John repeated, and wondered where the vitality in the room had gone. Now every moment seemed a tableau, with no one moving or speaking save for the barest essentials.

Then he saw Richard approaching the bed, his eyes fastened in clear fascination on the bandaged foot.

"How did you do it?" the boy asked.

"A piece of metal," John replied, "concealed in straw. It will work every time."

Richard looked up, apparently hearing the truth in the confession. "You did it. . .on purpose?"

"Of course." John smiled. "Wouldn't you, if you wanted to get out of a distasteful task?"

He heard Harriet laugh softly. "Good heavens, don't give him any ideas, John."

Then Richard was there again, stepping closer. "Didn't it hurt?" he asked.

"A little."

"Did you cry?"

"No, it didn't hurt that much."

"Herr Snyder said that a dog bit him once and it hurt so much that he cried."

"Herr Snyder?" John inquired, pleased that Richard seemed to be wanning to him again. "And who is Herr Snyder," he asked, "and where did this vicious dog bite him?"

"He's my tutor and he bit him on the arm. He still bears the scar." Richard looked admiringly at the foot. "I don't have a scar anyplace," he mourned softly.

"You will." John laughed. "When I get out of this bed, come with me and I'll find you a scar."

He had spoken in jest, but the boy apparently took him seriously. "Will you really?" he asked.

"Of course I will. And we're due a marble game as well. I still have the two cat's eyes you gave me. Let me warn you, though. I'm an awesome opponent."

"I'll beat you." Richard grinned, pulling up on the bed until he was seated directly beside John, a clear ally.

John looked back at the two near the table. Harriet was smiling, one hand cupped about her daughter's head. John now turned his attention to the little girl.

"Mary?" he called from the bed. "There's room enough here for all. Why don't you join us?"

But no. The direct invitation seemed to make the little girl turn in on herself. Quickly she buried her face in the folds of her mother's black gown.

"She doesn't like people," Richard pronounced with brotherly authority.

"Why?" John asked, alternately monitoring all three, still possessed by the feeling that something was being tested.

Richard shrugged. "I've told her that Herr Snyder will make her stand up and recite her lessons."

"Do you stand up to recite?" John asked, finding comfort in the boy, who seemed the only one eager and willing to talk.

"Oh, yes," Richard boasted. "Herr Snyder says I'm quick. Do you do lessons?"

John hesitated. "I did once."

"Were you quick?"

John smiled. "Quick enough, I suppose." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lady Eden approaching the foot of the bed. Still John focused all his attention on his bedmate. "What's your favorite subject?" he asked.

The boy thought a moment. "History"—he smiled—"and science. Do you know about Copernicus?"

Not expecting to be put on the spot in such a manner, John floundered.

Then suddenly Richard was possessed by an idea. "Mother?" he called out, scrambling to the foot of the bed. "May John attend my lessons? Herr Snyder would be pleased to have him, I know, and it would be such fun, almost like a real schoolroom."

John sat up, ready to protest. While he'd enjoyed his schoolwork, he'd had enough of it to last a lifetime.

Unfortunately he saw that the idea held appeal for Lady Eden as well. "A good idea, Richard," she said. "Although I'm certain that Herr Snyder will want to test John. He may be well in advance of you. But yes," she concluded, looking directly at John. "I think your education should be continued. I'm certain your father would have wished it."

At that moment a knock sounded at the door and he saw Lady Eden turn as though relieved to be out from under the burden of this new silence. She called out, "Come—"

Upon the instant, a parade of stewards entered bearing silver trays with domed tops and an accompanying odor that was irresistible. A few minutes later Harriet stood beside the bed, a heaping platter in her hands.

It was a glorious sight, that still-smoking beefsteak, surely the largest he'd ever seen, wreathed with golden potatoes and tiny onions in a cream sauce, and at either end of the platter, two small bundles of asparagus, all the odors blending, the platter warm in his lap. He shook his head and remembered the maggoty rolls. Of the two worlds at Eden, one was vastly superior. In all ways.