Chapter 7
Seven
“I t’s a surprise.” Augusta’s voice rang out cheerfully in the balmy afternoon as she dragged Sage through the overgrown gardens behind Fairview.
Sage tripped over a loose stone in the path but held on tightly to Augusta’s hand. Sage wasn’t familiar with how formal gardens were typically arranged, but on the few occasions she’d been in the spacious yard, she’d liked the natural feel to it, as if she were stepping into the wilderness of the island instead of a neat and artfully arranged yard like the Firths’ next door.
Earlier in the day, Augusta had paid a visit to Mrs. Firth and her daughters. Although Mr. and Mrs. Firth were invited to the dinner party which was now only three days away, Augusta had naturally accepted the invitation to have tea and get to know the ladies of the Firth family before the event.
When Augusta had arrived home, Sage had been helping Gustave in the kitchen prepare tiny cakes to serve for dessert. She’d anticipated accompanying Augusta to the last dress fitting for her party gown and hadn’t expected to be led out into the backyard.
After spending all of yesterday afternoon organizing Jackson’s study, Sage still had several lists of all the things needing to be done before the dinner. But she couldn’t deny Augusta a surprise , especially when she seemed so excited about it.
Besides, Sage wouldn’t complain about taking a break from the constant attempt to avoid seeing Jackson. Since the incident in his study, she’d felt as if he’d been watching her more carefully.
Maybe she was being overly suspicious, but on two different occasions, he’d seemed to seek her out. The first time had been last evening after dinner when she’d been polishing the goblets for Gustave and putting them away. Jackson had paused in the entryway of the butler’s pantry, opened his mouth as if to say something, then had moved on. This morning, she’d been ironing several of his shirts in the laundry room when he’d again passed by.
Both appearances had been unusual since Jackson rarely ventured away from his work, much less into the menial areas of the house.
Whatever the case, she’d felt him watching her more in one day than she had during the previous days of her visit combined. Maybe after their argument yesterday, she’d upset him more than she’d realized. Maybe now he was scrutinizing her and looking for her to fail in her duties in order to bring the complaints to his sister.
Thankfully, Augusta wasn’t swayed by Jackson’s moodiness. In fact, she rarely seemed bothered by anything her brother did. Attired in a lavender gown with a skirt that swayed like a bell, Augusta’s dark hair was combed back as severely as usual beneath her matching lavender bonnet. Although Augusta wasn’t fair and youthful, Sage had grown to appreciate the subtle beauty the woman displayed, especially in the lovely arched angles of her face.
Sage ducked under a branch and squeezed past a hedge of shrubs that were aflame with the changing leaves of autumn now that September had passed. With October well underway, the foliage had become more vibrant, bathing the landscape with an array of crimson and gold and burnt orange.
She breathed in the chilly air filled with a freshness she would never grow tired of—a smoky pine scent that was clean and wild and so opposite anything she’d ever experienced in Manchester.
As Augusta led her through the overgrown gardens, they found themselves at the back end of the property of both houses. While Fairview’s yard wasn’t yet enclosed, the Firths’ home was much tidier with a tall wrought iron fence with fleur-de-lis points that ran the length of the boundary.
A young woman stood just inside an arched gate in the shadows of a low-hanging maple, and at their approach, she turned toward them. For a half a second, Sage’s heart stopped beating. Was this Willow?
As the young woman ducked out from underneath the tree and then opened the gate, a slant of sunlight highlighted pale blond hair that was plaited in a long braid, not the reddish blond that Willow and Sage shared.
Considering the black maid’s uniform, white apron, and lacy cap, Sage guessed this pretty young woman worked for the Firths. As she exited the Firths’ yard and rounded the fence into the overgrown grass and shrubs of Fairview, her eyes gleamed with excitement.
But why?
“Sage?” the woman asked as she swept her gaze over Sage.
Who was this woman? Sage turned toward Augusta for the answer.
Within the shadows of her lavender bonnet, Augusta was beaming now too. “This is Juliet Dash, one of the Firths’ maids.”
Before Sage could curtsy or offer a handshake or even say hello, the newcomer was flinging herself upon Sage, wrapping her into a hug, and squeezing her. “Holy Moses, I can’t believe it’s you.”
Sage wasn’t sure whether to return the embrace or push the woman away. Instead, she patted Juliet’s back, then tugged herself free. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
Juliet laughed, her eyes crinkling with mischief. “Of course not. But I know so much about you, I’d almost count you a sister if I’d had one.”
Sage’s mind began to spin with the implications of what Juliet was saying, and anticipation now bubbled inside her. “You know Willow.”
Juliet nodded. “We shared a cabin on the Robert Lowe during the voyage here to the colony and became fast friends.”
Augusta must have discovered Juliet’s connection with Willow during the tea a short while ago and made arrangements with Juliet—probably secretly—to meet at the back gate.
Juliet was still smiling and taking in Sage, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “You’ll never guess, not in a hundred thousand years, what happened to Willow.”
Was that a note of sarcasm in Juliet’s tone? Or was she being serious?
“She got married,” Juliet continued.
“That’s wonderful.” Willow had come on a bride ship, so it was only natural she would have found a husband after being in the area for nine months. Sage knew she ought to be happy for her sister. Why then did the news only make her feel the pain of losing David all over again?
“I’m sure you’ll also never guess who the lucky fellow is.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
Juliet’s smile turned into a smirk.
Was Juliet referring to Caleb, Willow’s long-time best friend, the man she’d sworn she would never marry because they were ever and only friends? Caleb had also been adamant that he would never get married. “It has to be Caleb.”
Juliet nodded.
Oh dear. What had changed Willow’s mind about marrying Caleb? And his about her?
The last night that Sage had spent with Willow on their pallets in the chilled dampness of their flat, Sage had encouraged her sister to use the opportunity to break free of Caleb and learn to be independent.
That obviously hadn’t happened. In fact, it would appear the complete opposite had occurred.
“She and Caleb got married back in the spring.” Juliet seemed to sense the questions that Sage hadn’t yet voiced. “Never saw anyone as much in love as the two of them.”
“That’s lovely to hear.” The words sounded forced, certainly not congratulatory or excited that Willow had finally found love, even if it was with Caleb.
“Theirs is a long story.” At a call from somewhere in the Firths’ yard, Juliet glanced toward the upper stories of the house which rose above the gardens. She was probably being summoned back to her work. “I’ll have to let them tell you their tale when you see them.”
Did that mean Willow wasn’t working in service as a domestic after all? “Where are they living?”
At another distant call, this one more demanding, Juliet backed up a step and began to make her way to the gate. “They have a farm on Salt Spring Island.”
A farm? On an island? “So she’s not in Victoria?”
“No, the island is north of Victoria and north of Saanich Peninsula. Not too far if you go by steamboat.”
“Lovely,” Augusta interjected. “Sage and I shall go together and make a day of it, sightseeing along the way. Perhaps on Saturday once the dinner party is behind us.”
“Of course.” Sage tried to feel grateful to Augusta for her generosity, but she didn’t want to wait to see Willow, and she certainly didn’t want just infrequent visits by steamboat. But after more than a year of being apart from Willow, what were a few more days?
Juliet entered back through the gate, latched it, and then began to stride away with a wave. “When you see her, tell her hello from me. And let her know I’m still happily working for the Firths.”
“I will.”
After Juliet disappeared through the Firths’ elaborate garden, Sage followed Augusta back inside. She was grateful to the dear woman for finally locating someone who could give her information about Willow. Even so, Sage found herself feeling more homesick than ever for her family, knowing Willow was so close and yet still so far away.
When Augusta insisted on going to her dress fitting alone, Sage didn’t protest. Instead, she’d assured Augusta she would be busy with her lists of chores, which included tidying the dining room.
Thankfully, Augusta had already convinced Jackson to relocate his current bridge model to his study. Now that the study was organized, they’d discovered there was room for a table, especially after they’d moved out two wingback chairs.
After transferring the model, Jackson had left behind a mess of fragments and glue and nails and other items that Sage couldn’t name. As usual, though, she organized everything, sorting the pieces by size and kind into small bowls.
When she finished, she hesitated outside the closed door of his study with the tray of bowls. Should she just place it on the hallway floor?
Maybe she ought to knock and take the opportunity to apologize. After all, she had overstepped the boundaries yesterday, and she understood his frustration at her for walking into his private sanctuary and having it completely overhauled by a stranger.
Not only had she rearranged everything, but she’d also riffled through his personal possessions as if they were common items that had no meaning. She’d taken the liberty of moving and categorizing without any of his input. And she’d acted as if she knew better than he did how to do his work.
Yes, she needed to ask for his forgiveness. But their interactions had already been strained from the start, and now the strain would be even worse. If she brought it up, would she only make things more awkward?
Regardless, she would feel better if she made peace with him. She didn’t know if peace was truly possible with a man like Jackson, but she had to at least try.
Without giving herself a chance to back away, she knocked on his door.
No one answered.
She stood motionless and could hear him moving around, muttering to himself.
She knocked again.
Long seconds ticked past, and he still didn’t respond.
Was he ignoring her? If so, she wasn’t surprised.
She expelled an exasperated breath then lowered the tray to the floor. It was probably for the best. She’d already been incorrigible once and didn’t want to put herself in another situation where she might react poorly.
She began to move away. As she did so, the door swung open, and Jackson’s imposing presence filled the doorway, his tall frame and unruly hair nearly touching the top of the doorframe.
With furrowed brows, his gaze snagged on her. “Wait.”
She halted.
He was even more disheveled than usual, wearing the same garments from the previous day, his face more haggard, and the dark circles under his eyes more prominent. His eyes had a tortured wildness, as if he were running from demons he couldn’t escape.
The frustration she’d felt yesterday was gone, and remorse rushed in at full force. What had she been thinking to scold this man when he was already suffering and didn’t need her censure?
“I’m sorry—” She offered the words at the same time that he spoke the exact same thing.
They both stopped abruptly and stood silently.
He reached up a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, his shoulders slumping as he did so. “I’m the one who should be apologizing, not you.”
“No,” she hurried, needing to apologize before he cut her off. “I shouldn’t have taken so many liberties with your things?—”
“It’s amazing.” The words came out earnestly, and the steel in his eyes softened.
What did this mean? That he wasn’t angry with her anymore?
“Your organizational skills…the room…the order…” He fumbled over his words and then blew out a breath. “Thank you. I didn’t realize how helpful it would be.”
She exhaled too. “Really?”
He nodded eagerly toward his desk, which was a clutter of papers again. “Yes, seeing everything in order made me realize several steps that I needed to add, and I spent all of last night drawing up those missing pieces.”
“I’m relieved. Even so, I apologize for barging in and taking charge the way I did. I should have asked you?—”
“I would have said no, and then I wouldn’t have known what I was missing.” His voice was quiet…and normal, giving her a glimpse of the kindly gentleman Augusta had originally described to her.
He seemed to be studying her face, almost as though he were seeing her for the first time—truly seeing her as a person and not just as Augusta’s maidservant.
She pushed forward with the rest of what she knew she needed to say. “I also apologize for being rude to you. I said things I shouldn’t have.”
“You only said what was true and what I needed to hear.”
“No. I was unkind and could have spoken much more graciously?—”
“I’m completely to blame for everything. I was the one who was unkind and should have been much more gracious.”
She wouldn’t argue with him on that score. He should have been nicer. “That doesn’t excuse my behavior.”
“You were—are—a saint compared to me.”
That was the trouble. As hard as she’d always tried to be a saint, she had failed to be one.
He took a step backward and cocked his head toward his desk. “I have no right to ask you this, not after the way I’ve treated you, but I would be greatly obliged if you would show me how I might organize the new drawings.”
She hesitated. She’d said what she needed to and ought to go on her way.
“I promise I will keep the beast caged.” His emphasis on the word beast didn’t seem to contain any anger or vengeance. Instead, his eyes held a warm plea, one that seemed to be asking her for a second chance.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“It’s true. I have been beastly and deserve the censure.” He ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “So what do you say? Will you lend me your keen insights again?”
How could she refuse him? Not when his expression was filled with hope and sincerity.
“I don’t know what more I can do. But I can at least take a look at what’s on your desk.”
He stepped back even farther and waved her ahead of him into the study. “Thank you, Miss Rhodes.”
As she made her way to his desk, a tiny thrill whispered through her. He liked her organizational skills, asked for her help, thought she had something valuable to add to his work. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before.
She positioned herself in front of the diagrams once again strewn about in disorder. “I will likely be able to help you better if I know what I’m looking at. Will you explain everything to me?”
He moved to stand beside her. “Really?” His voice held surprise.
“Yes. Really.”
He hesitated only a moment before telling her about the various parts of the bridge, and even though most of the details were beyond her comprehension, she grasped enough to have a basic understanding of what he was doing.
When they finished organizing the diagrams again, he pulled out another stack of papers from one of his drawers—a stack she hadn’t seen yesterday—and they started going through those next.
This time he didn’t need any prodding to explain the original designs for the suspension bridge, his first drafts. Together they put them into a progression from the first until the last, stopping along the way to discuss the differences and changes.
“What are you two doing?” The question from the doorway interrupted Sage’s thoughts as she shifted the papers on Jackson’s desk.
She paused to find Augusta entering the study, her eyes wide as she took in Sage sitting in Jackson’s chair while Jackson stood beside her.
Sage looked down in surprise. When had she ended up in his chair?
She glanced to the window to find that the afternoon had passed into evening. How long had she been in Jackson’s study?
It felt like it had only been minutes. But maybe it had turned into hours.
Augusta’s gaze shifted between her and Jackson several times. She didn’t appear angry that Sage had neglected her duties. Instead, her eyes held only curiosity. “Gustave said that the two of you were shouting at each other yesterday. So I didn’t expect to find you working together today.”
Sage quickly pushed back from the desk and stood. “I was helping Mr. Lennox organize his study.”
“I asked for her help,” Jackson cut in.
“Not to worry, ma’am.” Sage sidled past Jackson and started toward Augusta. “I finished the dining room.”
“I’m not worried.” Augusta was still studying the two of them as though trying to make sense of finding them together. Sage didn’t understand it either. What had come over her to linger so long?
She smoothed her hands down her skirt self-consciously. “I shall work later tonight if necessary?—”
“If Miss Rhodes is behind in her duties,” Jackson said gruffly, “then I’m to blame. You’ll not punish her on my account.”
“I’m not upset.” Augusta’s tone was as polite as always. But was she upset? “There’s no one to blame. All is well.”
Sage bustled past her into the hallway. “I’ll help you get dressed for the evening meal, ma’am.”
Augusta didn’t move. When she finally pivoted, she took Sage in again, this time from the top of her head down to her toes. “Sage is a beautiful woman, would not you agree, Jackson?”