Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (12 page)

They
left Ashburne and headed across the stark land beneath the misty sky. At
Endfield’s gate, behind the hedge of trees, Nash leaned over in the saddle, put
his arm around Rebecah and kissed her goodbye. Then he pulled down his hat
against the wind, turned his horse and galloped off.

What
he could not know was the feeling of dread that stabbed her while she watched
him race up the hillside and disappear over it.

The
moment Rebecah entered through the front door, March came down the stairs with
a washbowl and a towel. Dark circles were under the woman’s eyes.

“Thank
God you’re back.”

“How
are they?” 

 “Lady
Kathryn is sleeping, but will want to see you. The doctor said if they make it
through the night, they would recover. But thus far it has been a terrible
struggle.”

Rebecah
hurried to take off her cloak and gloves. “I shall sit with Lady Kathryn.”

Dorene
stood motionless six steps up, her hand on the banister. Her dark eyes bore
down on Rebecah.

“Hugh
is safe, Dorene, and you?” 

“What
do you care? I know what you’ve been up to. And you’ll never know how much I
hate you for it.”

Rebecah,
troubled by her cousin’s words, went to pass her. “Why must you be so jealous
of me?”

“You
give me good cause to be.”

“Perhaps
when this is over we should talk. This is hardly the time to discuss our
differences. Go and rest.”

“How
dare you tell me what to do? You give me cause, I say.”

“I
don’t know what you mean.”

Dorene
grabbed Rebecah by the arm. “You do!”

Rebecah
jerked herself free. “I do not. Now, let me pass.”

“So
you can run to my mother? You’ve always been so crafty with her. She has taken
your side too many times. But now she’s too sick to protect you.”

“I’ll
not stand here and argue,” Rebecah told her with force. Pulling her arm away,
she moved on. Dorene followed.   

“Father
will be back soon, if he thinks it’s urgent enough to pull away from business.”
Dorene shoved her hair away from her face and gripped the stair rail. “I expect
he will be interested to know you went to Ashburne.”

“Why
should he care? Ashburne is my home.”

Dorene
laughed under her breath. “I looked out the upstairs window and saw a man with
you at the gate. I saw him embrace you and then ride off. It was Jack.”

“He
was on his way to Standforth.”

“Was
he escorting you from Ashburne?”

“He
helped me here.”

“From
Ashburne?”

“That
is all I shall tell you.”

“You
had Henry.”

“The
roads were treacherous.”

“I’m
going to tell my father you were with Jack. You’ve stood in my way for too
long.”

“Your
imagination is too strong and misdirected, Dorene. Do not let it lead you too
far astray.”

“It
shall lead me to ruining you.”

Lady
Kathryn called from down the corridor. Upon entering, Rebecah rushed to her
aunt’s bedside. Dorene remained in the doorway. Rebecah knew Dorene was afraid
she would catch the sickness if she entered. She covered her mouth with a
handkerchief, waited a moment to see if her mother wanted her, and then left.

Lady
Kathryn’s hand felt hot. Fever ravished her body. Red blotches covered her
skin. Her breathing labored and her lungs were congested. She looked thin, pale
as her bed sheets. The quick smile she once gave, looked lined and forlorn, her
lips white and cracked. Rebecah held a glass of water to her ladyship’s lips
and tried to get her to drink. She only had enough strength to wet them.

Rebecah
had listened to a horse galloping down the drive toward the house. She hoped it
were her uncle. March walked inside Lady Kathryn’s room with a letter.

“Word
has come from Sir Samuel. He wishes you, Dorene, and Master Hugh to leave
Endfield immediately. The three of you will be safer in London, away from the
sickness.”

Rebecah
looked over at March. “I cannot leave.”

“Sir
Samuel does not want his grief compounded.”

“Since
Dorene and Hugh have stayed out of the sickrooms they should go. I’ll stay.”

“You’ll
have to answer to your uncle why you disobeyed his orders.”

Lady
Kathryn coughed violently, and Rebecah turned to her.

“I’ll
keep it in mind, Mrs. March. Now, please bring the water inside. I shall need
clean bed sheets. Burn the others. Lady Kathryn will need bathing and a clean
shift to wear. We must do the same for Lavinia.”

“If
you think it will ease their suffering I will do as you say.”

The
lady, Rebecah believed to be the most beautiful among her family, had grown
frail as a plucked rose, her bright eyes dull, her hair disheveled about her
drenched body. Kathryn Brent uttered incoherently as she fell deeper into the
grip of fever. Breathing grew more difficult as the minutes went by.

Rebecah
heard the commotion outside the room. Hugh called for his mother, pleaded he
not be sent away. It cut deep within her he could not see her. Jess howled. She
heard Dorene scold her brother.

Wondering
if she had made the right choice, she went to the window and saw the footman
strap a trunk to the back of the coach, while the coachman held the door open
for Dorene. As soon as the door shut, the coachman climbed back to his perch,
cracked his whip, and the coach rumbled away. Jess ran after it and stopped at
the gates.

“Samuel?”
Kathryn searched a void. “Are you here?”

Rebecah
turned. “He is on his way.” She stroked Lady Kathryn’s hair, and hoped it were
true. “Rest easy. March has sent him word you are ill, and I’ve no doubt he is
close by.”

Lady
Kathryn grabbed Rebecah’s hand. “Pray for me. I’m afraid.”

“It
will be alright.”

“Lavinia?”

“March
is with her.”

Kathryn
Brent drifted off. March entered the room. She would sit with her awhile if Rebecah
would go to Lavinia. She ran her hands over her eyes, and left her aunt in
March’s care.

 For
over an hour, Rebecah soothed Lavinia’s head with a cool cloth, brushed out her
hair, and assured her she would recover quicker if she tried to drink the broth
March left on the table beside the bed. But in the other room, Kathryn Brent
grew worse, and March called for her.

The
light coming through the windows of the house grew dim. Twilight came and the
house grew colder. Stressful hours dragged with the howling wind, and a slow
wet snowfall brushed the windowpanes. Rebecah’s eyes grew heavy and she fell to
sleep with her head nestled in her arm. Her hand held tight to Lady Kathryn’s,
just as she had held her father’s hand the night he died. 

When
dawn broke, Rebecah opened her eyes. Ruby clouds stretched across the sky
beyond the enormous window in the bedchamber. She looked over into her aunt’s
quiet face. Kathryn breathed out slowly. Her hand slipped down along the
bedclothes. The long night of the soul had ended. Like a candle flame it vanished
and left a trace of its vapor to linger a moment. Rebecah stared at her aunt’s
face and trembled.

“I’m
glad I was with you,” she whispered. She wept, desperate with grief and hating
death.

Samuel
Brent arrived too late to console his wife in her final hour. He would not go
into Lavinia’s room, for like Dorene, he fear he would catch the fever. With a
heavy gait, he stepped inside the bedchamber. Rebecah stood behind him with
March. He stopped at the edge of the bed, gazed at his dead wife, the glow of a
candle alighting upon her face. He fell forward with a cry and gathered up his
lady’s lifeless body in his arms.

“Kate,
my dear Kate,” he wept.

Rebecah
could not fight the tears, and she knew to leave him alone. She turned and
walked down the corridor, numb with sorrow.

* * *

Brent
sent a courier to London ordering the return of his daughter and son. A private
service was held at Endfield on Tuesday. The body of Kathryn Brent was borne
from the house to the Brent mausoleum overlooking green fields. Old trees
shadowed one side, and a pond mirrored the sky of swift moving clouds.

A
funeral drum marked the procession. With each repetitious beat, Rebecah felt
her heart break a little more. Lady Margaret walked beside her, while John Nash
walked in the rear with his father. She turned her head and looked at him. She
could not smile today.

The
minister opened his prayer book. “We are but dust,” he read.

Rebecah
felt her heart lurch.

“And
to dust we shall return.”

Her
eyes filled. The finality struck her. Where could she find the comfort in such
words?

Lady
Margaret grabbed her hand and held it. “All is not lost. All is not forgotten. The
day shall come when God shall wipe away all our tears. There shall be no more
death, or mourning, or crying, or pain. For the old order of things shall pass.”

The
wrought iron gate was shut and the mourners moved away. Rebecah looked back to
see her uncle standing alone in front of the tomb. She went in a different
direction from the others, down the grassy hill toward Merry Marsh Church.

Dim
daylight made its way through the windows. She collapsed in the last pew,
buried her face in her arms. Then other hands touched hers, warm and firm,
manly and comforting. He moved them away from her face and she looked up. Nash pulled
Rebecah into his arms.

“I’m
sorry. I liked Lady Kathryn.”

“I do
not know how the others will do without her. I cannot believe she is gone.”

“She
remains in your heart and in your memories. You must hold on to what she gave
you.”

“I
will.”

“Let
us wait a few days before I come for you. You are needed here.”

She
moved from his shoulder and gazed at him. His face and eyes expressed with such
varied emotions, of sadness and grief, of tenderness and love.

Footsteps
came behind them. Sir Rodney, hat in hand, looked embarrassed to have
interrupted. “I apologize, but Samuel wishes us gone. He wants no one at the
house.”

Nash
stood and placed his hat on his head. “I understand, Father.”

Then
he took Rebecah’s hand to lead her home.

* * *

David
Harcourt lingered outside on the lawn. They said a few words, and then Nash
mounted his horse and rode off.

“It
must be hard for you, Rebecah. Sir Samuel should have allowed the Nashs to
stay,” David said.

“He
seldom thinks of comforting others. He’s in his own grief.”

David
took a step forward. “How is Lavinia? Is she going to recover?”

“Her
fever broke last night. Come inside.”

Not
a sound could be heard in the house. March took David’s hat and cloak, and he
waited in the foyer. Rebecah felt the loss of control, and rather than be
embarrassed by a burst of tears, she hurried up the stairs. 

In
her room, she rummaged through her clothes, tossing onto her bed what she would
take. She felt panicked to leave, wanting Nash more than ever.

Someone
cleared their throat and she looked up. David stood in the doorway turning his
hat between his hands.

“I’m
worried about you.”

She
turned back to her clothes. “I’ll be fine. But I appreciate your concern.”

“You
are leaving Endfield?”

“I
cannot stay any longer.”

“You
are going away with John Nash?”

She
wondered how he knew. “You will not say anything, will you, David? It’s so
important you do not.”

“Of
course I won’t. In fact, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I want Lavinia to come
away with me as well. So you see we both know what you’re feeling.”

Rebecah
laid a dress in her valise. “She loves you, you know.”

He
glanced down the hallway. “Can I see her?”

She
went to him. “I’ll find a way.”   

He
followed her by way of one of the servants’ stairs. Lavinia had been moved to
another room on the upper floor, away from the rest of the family. Dark paneled
walls and old Turkish runners heightened its venerable atmosphere. After a
quiet knock, Rebecah opened Lavinia’s door and went inside.

“How
are you feeling?’

“Better.
But I missed mother’s funeral.”

“You’ve
been too ill. She would understand.”

“I
cannot believe she’s gone. My heart breaks, Rebecah.”

Moved
with compassion for her cousin, Rebecah drew Lavinia into her arms to comfort
her. “Someone is here to cheer you up.”

Dashing
tears away, Lavinia moved back. “Who? I look frightful.”

“David.
He’s waiting outside the door.”

Lavinia
sighed. “David?”

“To
think he cares so much to ride all the way from Plymouth in the cold, risking
life and limb sneaking in here, just to inquire after your health. How many men
do you know would go so far?”

“John
Nash is the only other one I can think of.” Lavinia smiled. “David loves me,
doesn’t he?”

“I
am convinced he does. You should see him. Surely you cannot turn him away now.” 

Rebecah
opened the door and allowed David in. She waited on the threshold, watched him
bend over and kiss Lavinia’s hand. In whispers he spoke tenderly, stroked her
cheek.

David
looked over at Rebecah. “She is getting better, don’t you think?”

“Lavinia
is strong, and your visit has made her happy.”

“We
want to marry with or without Sir Samuel’s approval. As soon as she is strong
enough, we are going to Greta Green. My practice is prosperous now and I can
provide well for her. Can I count on you to keep our secret?”

“Yes,
David. All I want for Lavinia is for her to be happy.”

 “Thank you, Rebecah.
We shall not forget it.”

* * *

The
following day, Samuel Brent looked from his window at a hired coach outside on his
drive. The coachman put Hugh inside, then shooed Jess away with a kick of his
boot.