“I do not mean to intrude, but I saw you sitting on the ground and wanted to ensure you had not suffered some mishap or injury.” He was dressed for walking, or riding she supposed, with buckskin breeches and high top boots. A frock coat of deep green encased his torso, cut longer at the back so it flared out behind his knees. His brows pulled together as he stared down at her.
Dawn brushed a hand through her hair and encountered a snag. She pulled at the rough piece and discovered a twig. Oh dear. Her blind run through the forest had worked her hair loose from its bun, and she seemed to have picked up an assortment of leaves and twigs. Now she was sprawled on the ground and probably looked like she had just crawled through a bush. No wonder the earl was frowning at her. She was failing at making a good impression upon her employer.
She dropped a leaf to the ground and peered up at the lord. How to explain her shabby appearance? “I was enjoying the serenity of this spot after the screeching from the forest walk.”
He managed to simultaneously frown and arch an eyebrow. He held out a hand to her. “Screeching? Like owls?”
Dawn accepted his help and placed her hand in his. The instant their hands touched, a jolt ran up her arm, across her chest, and wrapped around her heart. She gasped and snatched her hand back, staring at it. On her palm, a large round seed, somewhat like a sweet pea, glowed and rocked back and forth like an egg about to hatch.
“Are you all right?” the earl asked.
“Yes.” She glanced up for a moment, then returned to stare at her hand, but the seed had vanished. Or had she imagined it? She patted the grass but found nothing. Her hand went to her chest. The pang hadn’t been painful but more like a blast of awareness. She sought for some excuse to explain her reaction and the abortive attempt to rise off the ground. “Your hands are cold.”
Dawn tucked her hands into the pocket of the apron.
The earl stared at his hands for a moment and then crossed his arms, still looming over her like a storm cloud about to release the rain.
“You were saying that the estate is noisy.” The frown returned to Lord Seton’s face. He seemed to frown often, but perhaps it was a burden having to run an estate.
She must sound mad, but instead of keeping quiet she blundered on. “Not literally, of course, but the way some growth has taken over and strangles more fragile plants makes me wince. As though I cannot look at their suffering without imagining them caught in silent cries for help.”
Dawn struggled with a way to explain how the rampant overgrowth and the sinister dead patches bombarded her. “You must think me touched in the head. But it is as though I have walked through the middle of an orchestra who are entirely unacquainted with their instruments. Each person competes with the other to make the loudest noise and the entire is…painful. This place by comparison is blessed silence.”
The frown disappeared from his brow as his grey eyes widened slightly. “I do not think you are touched at all. The state of the grounds could be overwhelming to those sensitive to such things. As I would expect from a gardener. But I did not mean to disturb your contemplation. I found myself quite curious to hear your first impressions and had hoped to encounter you somewhere in the grounds. I will leave you until this evening.”
He gave an old-fashioned bow and retreated to the trees, leaving her alone with Mouse and the silent lake.
7
Time drifted with the slow whirls and eddies of the water. Dawn could have sat by the lake for hours or years. The peaceful location fed her soul and revived her body. But there was much to do and she wanted to give the earl a full accounting at dinner time.
She stared at her hand, wondering what had happened when their skin touched and where the seed had come from that glowed and shook as though trying to break free of its confines. Another search of the surrounding grass failed to find the magical seed. She must have imagined it. Her mind was galloping in all sorts of wild directions after her run through the forest.
One thought had been shaken free. She needed to apologise to the earl for the way she spoke and acted on her arrival. Her parents raised her to be a polite and respectful child, and from weariness and fear for her immediate future, she had not heeded her upbringing. She would make amends over dinner. With these things sorted in her mind, Dawn rose. Mouse shook himself and waited for her instructions.
“Let’s see if we can find the hermitage or if the landscape has reclaimed it,” she said.
Woman and wolfhound explored until two in the afternoon with no sighting of the hermitage. Giving up for the day, Dawn returned to the cottage. A cold luncheon waited her inside, and she decided to search the books left by previous gardeners, to learn their thoughts and intentions toward the rambling grounds. Or to find some clue as to what led to its downfall and neglected state.
First, Dawn swallowed a tablespoon of the heart tonic and hoped she had not over-exerted herself. Then she took a pile of dusty books and sat at the table. To her delight, one tome was the history of the potager and a detailed planting and rotation guide. With its well laid out and simple instructions, she could easily make the vegetable garden highly productive once more.
She pulled the leaf that looked like a feather from her pocket and laid it on the table. She flicked through a botany book but couldn’t find any matches. Even the colour was unusual. Nature did not normally produce black foliage, especially with a rich red backing. Perhaps it was simply a one off mutation. Or it could be a pin oak leaf that grew in a strange way, and the black the result of mould.
Soon the light began to fade, and it was time to consider dinner ahead and what to wear. Dawn’s entertaining repertoire was sadly limited to the associates her father had brought home for dinner. They were usually old, stuffy, and talked about bookkeeping. The earl was young, titled, and rather handsome to gaze upon, if somewhat sombre in his moods. Perhaps he might want to discuss gothic novels. If only she’d read any.
Remembering his cool touch made her fingers tingle as though the nerve was pinched. Foolish. This was what happened when parents were overprotective of their children; it left them with no defences against normal everyday interactions. Like offering someone a helping hand to stand or dining together. At least his nephew would be in attendance as chaperone, but that left her wondering about the youngster’s parents. Where were they, or was he holidaying at the estate?
She bit her tongue to stop herself from mentally castigating her parents for leaving her so woefully unprepared to face the world or the charms of handsome men. They did what they thought was best given her delicate health. No one could have foreseen the tragedy that would strike. At least she had an education that covered a broad range of subjects and etiquette to fall back upon.
Dawn decided on the least plain of her practical dresses. She chose the dark grey with the lavender stripe since she was still in mourning for her parents. She had left the black gown behind in her larger trunk, considering it unsuitable for gardening. The striped dress was the closest she had to show her loss. A tinge of guilt also drove her decision. She had spent the day exploring the grounds and had barely thought about the loss of her parents. Only now, in the quietness of the cottage, did her grief return to roost like the raven taking up his favourite perch in the elm.
Dawn washed as well as she could in the kitchen sink and scraped her hair off her face into a tidy bun. With Mouse at her heel, she headed back along the lime path to the big house. The narrow walkway opened out to the large courtyard that stretched between stables and main dwelling. She walked to the edge of the lawn and then took a moment to stare back at the imposing structure. Its wings extended on either side and reached up. High in the right tower, closest to the thicket that was once a maze, light glowed a soft yellow through thick glass. Who sat up there?