Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
The Price Paid
Rosehaven House was usually a cacophony of sounds. Children’s voices, servants’ footsteps, the constant noises of life.
This afternoon, I could hear a pin drop.
After the pre-dawn chastising from Cosmos, I’d checked on Petunia who thankfully had gone back to sleep. I then proceeded to my bedchamber to bathe and change into a fresh gown. The one I’d worn reeked of the mortuary, its foul stench a horrid memory of that poor girl’s abused body.
In the past, when I’d gone on one of my forays into the seedier side of London, Tilly would comment on the sorry state of my garments.
But this morning she’d gone about her work in silence.
Not from disapproval—that thought would never occur to her—but because she did not know what to say.
Cosmos, after all, was the master of Rosehaven.
He could easily lay blame where it suited him.
If he chose to condemn her, Tilly would have no defense.
“I am so sorry, Tilly.”
She paused as she helped me from the bath and wrapped me in a voluminous towel. “Whatever for, my lady?”
“For involving you in my actions. I hope Cosmos was not too harsh with you.”
She lifted her gaze. “His lordship only asked if I knew where you’d gone. He did not blame me for your absence.”
I breathed easier. “I am glad to hear it.”
Once she’d helped me into a fresh gown and arranged my hair, I sat at my desk to write a brief note to Steele.
He would want to know what Cosmos had said.
I then ventured into the morning room to attend to my neglected correspondence and household responsibilities.
Unfortunately, my mind did not wish to cooperate, and I achieved very little.
Cosmos presented himself at breakfast, his thunderous expression casting a pall over the table.
I made a valiant attempt to lighten the mood, with little success.
Chrissie scarcely spoke. Laurel kept her nose firmly in her book.
Fox watched Cosmos with open concern. Even the twins were subdued.
Petunia insisted on sitting beside me, no doubt fearing I might disappear again if she did not keep close watch.
The rest of the morning passed much the same, Cosmos’s anger lingering in the corridors like a draught that refused to settle.
In the afternoon, Tilly suggested I rest. I tried.
But my thoughts kept returning to the young woman on the slab, and to the dreadful question of whether another would soon meet the same fate.
By the time I dressed for supper, Steele had not written back. I told myself he was busy. He would write when he had the time. Still, I worried.
I did not have to wonder about Cosmos, however. He had left word that he would be attending a meeting of the Royal Society for Botanical Inquiry this afternoon and would not return for supper. More than likely, he’d be visiting Claire.
The injustice of it pressed heavily upon me. Gentlemen came and went as they pleased, without comment or consequence. But if a lady did the same, a scandal erupted and her reputation was ruined.
I stopped at my bedchamber window and pressed my fingertips to the cool glass, eager to feel something other than the ache behind my eyes, the inevitable consequence of confronting a horror I could not unsee.
The clock on the mantel reminded me I should be making my way down the stairs. But before I could act, a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come,” I said, my voice catching slightly.
The door opened with careful slowness. Petunia stood on the threshold, dressed for supper in a soft yellow muslin gown, her hair arranged neatly in two braids. She was clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest as though it were her only friend.
“May I come in?” she whispered in a voice fraught with emotion.
“Of course.” I studied her face. Clearly, she’d been crying. “Whatever’s the matter?”
She hiccuped. “I just wanted to make sure you had not gone away again.”
The words struck harder than the ones Cosmos had hurled at me this morning.
I crossed the room at once and knelt before her. “Oh, sweetheart. I have not. I am here.”
“You are not going to leave, are you?”
Guilt rose sharp and unwelcome as I drew her into my arms. She was too young to understand everything, but not too young to understand absence—or fear.
“I should have explained where I’d gone,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”
She pulled back just enough to look at me. “Where did you go, Rosie?”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. She was too young, too innocent to understand. So I chose my words with care and shared only what she could carry.
“There are girls,” I said slowly, “who were taken away even though they did nothing wrong. No one listened when they went missing. No one went looking for them.”
Her brow furrowed. “Like when people do not look for lost kittens?”
“Yes,” I said, a faint smile touching my mouth. “Very much like that.”
“And you are looking for them.”
“I am.”
She considered this gravely. “Will they get hurt if you do not?”
I did not evade the question. “Yes. I think they might.”
“You are not doing this alone, are you?” Her lower lip trembled. “You might get hurt too.”
“No, not alone. Steele is helping me.”
Her face brightened as she breathed an easy sigh. “Good. He will protect you.”
On that point, I had no doubt. “Yes. He will.”
She hugged the rabbit tighter, then nodded with great solemnity. “Then you must go,” she said. “Because if you do not, they will be scared. Like I was.”
For a moment, I could not speak.
“But you must leave word, Rosie,” she added in a whisper. “So we do not worry. Laurel, Holly, Ivy—even Fox—thought something had happened to you. They thought you had been stolen.”
“I was not,” I said, holding her close. “And if I go away again, someone will always know where I am. And I will come back.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
That seemed to satisfy her. She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Good.”
The dinner gong sounded, lifting her mood instantly. As I came to my feet, she took my hand. “Cook made spring lamb with the green mint sauce. And she made extra gravy, because I asked. And there is jam roly-poly for pudding. With custard.”
“Your favorites,” I said, smiling down at her. Petunia loved to eat. So just about everything was her favorite. Except for turnips. It was a dark day in the household when Cook prepared turnip soup.
We descended the stairs to the dining room, where we were soon joined by my other sisters and Fox. With Cosmos absent and no one to frown upon us, the meal passed in rare cheer—and for a little while, at least, Rosehaven House felt like itself again.