Chapter 31
31
Luna placed the rose-scented potion underneath a pile of linens in her chest of drawers. Not long after Marcus had bought her the new dresses, he’d placed another order for a selection of necessary undergarments, and Mrs Cole had provided everything she could possibly need. Her modest wardrobe was growing.
The gift was kind of Mr Findlay, who meant well, but she would not use magic to force her husband to come to her, nor would she give him anything to drink that she had not prepared herself, even though him coming to her bed was the thing she desired above all else.
Later that afternoon, Marcus came to find her after the arrival of the second post.
‘This is not good,’ he said, waving a letter at her. ‘Great-Aunt Elspeth. A formidable and shrewd woman.’
Luna looked up from the floor where she was kneeling in front of the linen cupboard, sorting the household napery with Hattie. She got to her feet, curious as to the significance of the correspondence.
‘She is coming to Ravenswood. ’
‘Oh?’
He looked back at the piece of paper. ‘Tomorrow. This letter must have been held up in the post, for it was written three days ago. We do not have time to prepare.’ He let out a groan and anxiously ran his hand through his hair. ‘She has already embarked on her journey, and is stopping at a halfway house this evening.’
‘And the purpose of her visit?’
He shrugged. ‘I honestly have no idea. As you know, I tried to visit her back in May but she wasn’t in London. She hasn’t been here for several years, partly because it is such an arduous journey, but largely because she did not take to you, nor you to her.’ Both were conscious that Hattie remained in the room. ‘You’ll remember that I tended to visit her by myself during the first few years of our marriage, when I was able to leave you unsupervised. You have not met above three times, but she was at our wedding.’
She was now quite used to Marcus referring to his wife’s past as though she really was the woman herself, even though sometimes it made her uncomfortable to have the crazed actions of another attributed to her. He knew she wasn’t Luna as much as she did, but what a glorious thing if they could live out the fantasy. If only everyone would just leave them alone.
‘Hattie, you may return to the kitchens to help Mrs Webber.’ The girl nodded and exited, as Luna wrestled with the knotty problem her husband had just presented. ‘Maybe she is coming to congratulate us on being married for ten years?’
‘I fear that is not a cause for celebration in her eyes. My choice of bride did not go down well.’ His expression remained anxious as he returned his focus to the details of his great-aunt’s communication. ‘She is quite elderly, so we can only hope her memory has dimmed with the years. Or even her eyesight. I suspect, however, her tongue remains unaffected. ’
Marcus gave a little snort but she knew he was clutching at slippery straws. He raised his eyes from the page and looked at her.
‘Regardless, she wishes to stay for two nights. Mrs Webber and Hattie must prepare a room for her.’ His worried expression betrayed the true reason for his anxiety. ‘She must have my room; there is no other yet suitable, and Oscar can help me bring one of the sofas upstairs.’
There were only two beds upstairs at the house, and insufficient time to order another. He could hardly squeeze in with the Webbers. But the absence of the appropriate furniture aside, it was hardly scandalous for a husband and wife to share the same room. Why was he so worried?
‘If you wish to present a happy couple to your aunt, and demonstrate the true extent of our reconciliation, then wouldn’t it be perfectly natural for us to be together in the master bedroom, and for her to witness this? We can manage. It’s fine.’
Ever practical, this was the obvious solution. It wasn’t as though they were strangers any more. There was genuine affection between them, and an undeniable attraction. It was his decision not to act on this beyond their passionate kisses and gentle, often subconscious, caresses. Was his real concern that the desire that swirled between them might suck them down the eye of some carnal tornado and leave only destruction in its wake?
She walked over to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek towards it and gave her fingers a soft kiss, but she felt certain that his heart rate had accelerated almost as much as hers.
‘Very well. It would appear I have no choice,’ he said, and swallowed hard.
Great-Aunt Elspeth was not quite what Luna had expected. For a start, she had silk violets threaded through her loose, wavy hair and, when she removed her oversized mink coat, she was wearing a pale green loose-fitting cotton smock, heavily embroidered with a twisting ivy motif, which floated about her thin frame, almost swallowing her up. She resembled some kind of picture-book sprite – if sprites looked a hundred years old and carried walking sticks.
She was helped down from her carriage by Oscar and tottered up the meadow path with Marcus’s arm linked through hers. Her man would stay in the village for the duration of her visit, where the horse could be better stabled and, as the carriage pulled away, a small trunk was left behind for the young boy to bring inside.
Luna could hear the old woman and her great-nephew’s chatter as they approached.
‘I’ve been worried about you, dear boy, and was sorry to miss you back in the spring. I’ve been particularly keen to visit, having heard rumours that have caused me great concern. Your letters may be cheery and give the impression that everything is fine, but I am adept at reading between the lines and had to see the current situation for myself.’
‘Life is good, Aunt,’ he reassured her, as they approached the front door where Luna was lurking. ‘Better than it’s been in a long time. And, look, here is my wife to greet us.’
Disarmed by her kindly appearance and obvious love for Marcus, Luna put out her hand and half-curtsied. The old woman sniffed and then looked at her as though she was something bobbing about in a chamber pot, before walking straight past her and into the house.
Luna blinked in surprise and her husband turned his head back and threw her an apologetic glance. Most people who had come across Luna Greybourne disliked her and Great-Aunt Elspeth was no exception. It would take some time to win this woman over, assuming they could successfully pull the wool over her rapidly dimming eyes.
‘I like the paper in here. Dahlias,’ Great-Aunt Elspeth said, as the three of them took their seats in the sparse, but thankfully now damage-free, dining room. ‘A symbol of devotion and love.’
Luna looked across at Marcus, who had the faintest tinge of pink showing across his cheeks, even though his brows were furrowed and his jaw was set. She knew very little about flowers generally, even less so of the sentiments they supposedly represented. It had not occurred to her that his recent choice of wallpaper might be a coded message.
‘I remember you had a delightful mulberry-coloured variety in your garden, Aunt,’ he said, avoiding Luna’s eye. ‘I’ve been establishing new borders at the front of the house and will plant more bulbs out next spring. A favourite bloom of our queen – such an array of colours. I lost my dahlias to the frosts a few years ago but my man managed to grow some marigolds and sweet peas from seed this year and the last of the flowers remain.’
The loss of the blooms was unlikely to be due to adverse weather conditions and more likely one of his wife’s spiteful acts of destruction. The meadow had probably survived because she could hardly destroy a whole field, but if she had killed her husband’s dogs, she’d have had no compunction destroying his dahlias. Ravenswood had certainly been devoid of any formal flower beds until Marcus had started earnestly tackling the garden and replanting back in April.
Hattie arrived with a large tureen, her tongue half out of her mouth as she concentrated on keeping the dish level and not spilling the contents. She remained jumpy around Luna, as though her mistress might turn her into a toad at any given moment, but was getting better.
The old lady peered into the bowl set before her and scooped up a spoonful of the soup, taking a hesitant mouthful. She pulled an unimpressed face.
‘What happened to the cook who worked for your father? Frightful-looking woman but at least she knew how to season the meals.’ Her face said it all.
‘I’ve had difficulty keeping staff.’ His answer was guarded, as Hattie was still in the room. ‘Mrs Webber has been very loyal. She does her best,’ he finished.
The soup wasn’t terrible, but with its overwhelming odour of cabbage and greyish appearance, it resembled something a peasant family might eat, not something to be served in the house of a gentleman.
‘Employ a new cook,’ his aunt ordered and he nodded his compliance. ‘This one will likely kill you all before Christmas, if your wife doesn’t get to you first.’
There followed an awkward silence before Luna was brave enough to speak. ‘I do so admire the delicate embroidery on your dress. Ivy is such a hardy plant, if somewhat invasive. It has grown all up the back of the house.’
She was trying to win the old lady over but Elspeth was having none of it and merely huffed. ‘It’s supposed to guard against evil but it has spectacularly failed on that account. I also recall it being in the flower arrangements at your wedding, as it symbolises everlasting life, devotion and fidelity.’ She snorted.
Luna tried again. ‘It’s lovely to have you here and I look forward to getting to know you a little better.’
Great-Aunt Elspeth looked across at Luna through her wire-rimmed spectacles.
‘A most unlikely sentiment. You, dear girl, have some explaining to do. I have been informed that you prance around the woods, either naked or wrapped in bed linen, shout obscenities at passers-by, and occasionally attempt to summon up the Devil.’
Hattie gasped and dropped the tureen she’d been returning to the kitchens. It crashed to the ground and soup sprayed everywhere – up the table legs and across the wooden floorboards. The incident immediately shifted attention away from Luna’s response and towards the calamity.
‘Honestly, child, what is wrong with you?’ Aunt Elspeth snapped, but Luna looked kindly on the girl, jumping to her feet to help deal with the dreadful mess.
‘Luna.’ Marcus’s tone was sharp. ‘Hattie is capable of cleaning up the mess. It’s not your concern.’ She had embarrassed him by behaving like staff when all he wanted to do was appease this judgemental old lady.
Luna slid back onto her chair and nodded, her eyes cast down into the soup before her, as Great-Aunt Elspeth returned to her earlier accusations. ‘I correspond occasionally with the reverend at St Mary’s,’ their guest explained, as she waved an imperious hand. ‘He is a personal friend of my parish priest. I met him several years ago in London and he keeps me updated as to the comings and goings of Little Doubton. It transpires your nocturnal activities draw a substantial amount of attention hereabouts.’
Why, Luna wondered, should her behaviour, which had been much improved since the spring, suddenly be of concern to this elderly lady? There had been no nudity in the woods since April – not from her, at any rate.
‘I have not been out at night for many months, and have quite got the desire to run around unclothed out of my system.’
‘It is not the nudity I object to,’ the aunt clarified. ‘After all, it is how we all came into the world. I’m not averse to being at one with Mother Nature myself, in the confines of my own home. But it is your ungodly attempts to engage in the dark arts that disgust me. I think you have put your husband through quite enough.’
Luna sighed and rolled out their usual response. ‘I was under the influence of opiates, which mercifully no longer have such a hold on me.’ She tried to look suitably contrite for a crime she had not committed. ‘With Marcus’s love and support I am faring much better. I hope the reverend also told you I now attend St Mary’s and was well enough to help with the harvest back in September?’
Great-Aunt Elspeth sniffed. ‘He also informed me that several years ago you cursed an old lady from the village and the unfortunate soul passed away not long afterwards.’
Marcus leaned forward to intervene on her behalf, repeating the explanation he’d given to the villagers. ‘The woman was a self-proclaimed witch and quite the troublemaker. I am certain that her fear of my wife’s meaningless words frightened her so much that it led to her apoplexy. As I have said to others in the past, physical symptoms can originate from mental stress. People can die from fear ,’ he explained. ‘When you are so petrified that your heart races out of control, all it takes is a weak constitution and you have a sudden death. Something similar no doubt happened to her brain. Luna’s curse was no more real than talk of dragons or unicorns and I am surprised at you, Aunt, for thinking otherwise.’
Aunt Elspeth narrowed her eyes. ‘My journey has been long and I wish to retire. Marcus,’ she commanded, ‘escort me to my room. I will need assistance with the stairs.’
He got to his feet. ‘Of course.’ He slipped his arm through hers and helped her from the seat, with Luna convinced it was merely an excuse to talk to her great-nephew alone, and possibly demand that he immediately commit his mentally unstable wife to an asylum.