She should agree with him and start with a simple task. Reclaiming the maze would be arduous and complicated given the sheer scope of the issue. The herbaceous borders needed cleaning out, the soil addressed, and the bordering hedge cleared of the invasive vine. So why did her mind baulk like a stubborn mule at the idea of beginning her work elsewhere?
Dawn stared at the original map and mentally overlaid it with the one from the cottage. Just as the maze was the mathematical centre of the estate, so was the unknown black vine originating from there. “You cannot restore a garden until you first clear all the weeds. The large vine is strangling so much of the estate. If it is spreading by runners, we need to tackle the source, which is somewhere in the maze.”
Lord Seton did his statue impersonation. Only the rise and fall of his chest reassured her that he hadn’t frozen solid. At last he made that odd grunt in the back of his throat. Her father used to do something similar when a column of numbers in his ledger didn’t return the expected result. “If you will not be dissuaded, I’ll have Hector go into town tomorrow and employ a couple of local lads to help clear the entranceway. I only ask that you do not go into the maze unaccompanied, in case you become lost.”
“Thank you, my lord, the extra hands would be most valuable.” Dawn cast him a sidelong glance from under lowered lashes, still trying to figure out what had grazed her neck. When she used to kiss her father goodnight, his cheek had always been rough because of the day’s stubble that had regrown. Lord Seton’s cheek looked freshly shaven with no hint of shadow. If not stubble, what accounted for the rasp against her skin?
She needed a distraction before she dwelt too long on the attributes of her employer. Identifying flora was a harmless place to start. “I would much appreciate it if I could access your botanical volumes to help me better understand what plants are unique to this area, such as the vine and Ravensblood tree.” Did a book about invisible plants that sprouted from people exist? Her mother used to warn her not to swallow apple pips or one would grow inside her.
“Of course.” Lord Seton turned and surveyed the rows of books. Then he moved to one particular segment and stretched his arms wide. “This area contains numerous books on plants, landscaping, and garden design.”
She walked over the bookcases but kept the library ladder between them.
“Thank you.” She ran a fingertip along the edge of the row. A slim volume caught her eye. The red leather cover had worn dull over time and once gold lettering had muted to a dark yellow. The Flora of Alysblud. She pulled the book free and held it in both hands. “I will start locally and work my way outward. I would like to accompany Hector tomorrow, if that is permissible.”
His grey gaze regarded her for a long moment. He really was very good at impersonating a statue. “Very well, I have no objections. If you go to the village, you will not distract Elijah from his studies. He can show you the hermitage in the afternoon.”
“Thank you. I think I will retire now. It’s been quite an eventful day.” Her physical resources were depleted and exhaustion nibbled at her mind.
Lord Seton reached out one hand toward her, stared at it, and then placed them both behind his back. “I’ll walk you back to the cottage.”
“That’s not necessary, I have Mouse for company,” Dawn whispered, unable to meet his stormy regard.
He ground his jaw and fixed his stare. “I think it is necessary. There are many things hiding in the night in rural areas, and you are not yet familiar with the lie of the land.”
Dawn swallowed. Her vivid imagination cast Lord Seton as a nocturnal creature, waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting. She longed to retire to bed and pull the blankets over her head to blot out such fanciful ideas.
They walked back across the entrance way and into the peaceful parlour. He opened the French doors to reveal a full moon outside. Mouse was a silent guard in the night, pacing at Dawn’s side with Lord Seton on the other. The moon illuminated their way across the courtyard and along the pale path to the cottage.
At the cottage door, Dawn paused with one hand on the cool iron latch. “Good night, Lord Seton.”
“Good night, Miss Uxbridge.” He took her free hand and placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles, then he vanished back along the path.
Dawn stared at her hand. Her skin tingled from the brief contact, but the tendril of imaginary vine did not appear. Then she glanced at the waiting wolfhound. “I’m tired, that is all, and unused to such company. My mind is playing tricks upon me.”
Inside, she padded across the floor by moonlight to her bedroom. Dawn lit the lamp by the bed and disrobed with a slow weariness. Mouse emitted a sigh and settled on the rug. She climbed up into the large bed, blew out the light, and nestled into the blankets. Her dreams explored the twists and turns of the maze, and she imagined Lord Seton waiting to steal kisses in the dark.
Odd cries and screams punctuated Dawn’s sleep. She pulled the blankets over her head. Then she tried to identify whether she heard Lady Letitia howling from her tower room or the cries of ravens and owls on the hunt. Strange half-waking dreams swirled in her mind, stirred up by the screeching.
The watcher from her garden in Whetstone set up an answering caw. Or was he warning her of seekers scuttling in the undergrowth? The raven spread its wings and took flight toward the night time sky. As he rose over the city, the bird’s feathers fell away, and it transformed and enlarged into a version of Lord Seton, who flew over the darkened landscape looking for prey to capture in his clawed feet.
Nothing disturbed Mouse. The wolfhound snored softly from his spot, and she endeavoured to follow his example. But even when sleep claimed her, it wasn’t a restful slumber.
Her mind dwelt on the moment in the library when Lord Seton stood at her back, his hand clasping hers over the heart of the garden. What was the tiny plant that appeared when he touched her and then vanished again? And did he graze her neck accidentally or deliberately? She pushed the blankets away as she heated up, only to rouse when the chill of night brushed her skin and she needed to pull the quilt back over her shoulders again.
When morning arrived, her body and mind were troubled and her heart pulsed weakly in her chest. How would she make it through another day? She took a spoonful of tonic before eating the breakfast that once again waited her on the doorstep. By the time she sought out Hector, she felt able to face the day.
In the courtyard, she encountered Dr Day dismounting from a chestnut horse. Its coat shimmered red gold in the sunlight.
“Good morning, Miss Uxbridge. Are you settling into life at Ravenswing?” He tossed the reins to the waiting groom and unbuckled a black bag attached to the side of his saddle.
“Yes, thank you. Are you here to see Lady Letitia?” Mouse sat at her side, and it had already become a habit to place a hand on his head, as though he were a touchstone that lent her strength.
Dr Day swung the bag in his hand. “Yes. Lord Seton sent word that Lettie had a turn last night. I’m sure Nurse Hatton has things under control, but I like to check for myself.”
Dawn’s fingers curled into Mouse’s shaggy fur. “Lady Letitia seemed most upset at my presence here.”
Dr Day placed a hand on her arm and squeezed gently. A warm smile curled his lips under the tidy moustache. “Please do not take her words to heart. Her mind is troubled and she does not always know what she says.”
“I would not want to cause her any distress.” Why did she demand Dawn leave the estate? Lady Letitia might cry out at night because of a fear of strangers or something else that lingered in the dark.