“Was it very recent?”
“No, years ago. It was just weeks before Master Elijah was born. Poor lad never knew his father, and Lord Julian never knew his son. But don’t you go prying, the family is very tight about such things.” Hector cast her a serious look.
“I had no intention of prying. I simply didn’t want to say the wrong thing and cause offence.” Well, possibly she wanted to do a tiny bit of prying, but surely it was only natural to be curious when immersed in such a family?
Hector’s shoulders shook in a silent laugh as though he guessed her motives, but he remained tight-lipped about his employer for the rest of the journey home.
Back at Ravenswing, Dawn ate a quiet lunch in the cottage while scanning the botany books for any information on the Ravensblood tree or the rampant vine. Her study was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. Mouse looked up and his shaggy eyebrows raised in what Dawn assumed was the dog equivalent of a shrug. Since he didn’t offer so much as a ghost of a woof, it must be someone he knew on her doorstep.
She pushed the book away. Its pages had no information to reveal anyway, and she needed a distraction after so long bent over the table. Behind the door she found Elijah, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and wearing an unbuttoned waistcoat in the barest minimum of suitable dress for a noble son. Legitimate or not. He wore a straw boater on his head, which he took off when she appeared.
“I have escaped the schoolroom if you wish to find the hermitage.” A warm smile lit both his lips and eyes.
He was a handsome lad, and on closer inspection, not too many years younger than her. Dawn could see the family resemblance between him and his uncle, if only the latter ever smiled. Was there likewise a strong resemblance between Elijah’s father and uncle? Unless she could find a painting or photograph of Julian, her curiosity would go unsatisfied.
“Certainly, I’ll just fetch my hat and notebook,” she said.
While she found her straw sunhat and stuffed a notebook and pencil in her apron, Mouse shuffled forward and licked Elijah’s hand. He fussed over the large dog and ruffled furry ears.
“If you don’t want to carry everything around the estate, Mouse here can pull a cart,” Elijah said as she stepped over the threshold and pulled the door shut.
“I imagine he could, but I couldn’t treat him as a pack animal.” He was the same size as a small pony and she could easily see him pulling a brightly coloured cart containing laughing children.
“Not even saddle bags?” He swept his hands over Mouse’s side in a gesture to replicate bags hanging from either side.
“That would be handy if he could carry secateurs, trowels, and such like. But how does one ask a canine for their approval to do such a thing?” Surely the beast should have some say in how he was employed.
Elijah shrugged. “I suspect if he didn’t want to, he would have a way of letting you know.”
They took a path that headed east and skirted the unruly wood that had pressed on Dawn’s mind and robbed her of her senses. Instead they walked through a wildflower meadow. Here, neglect and chaos birthed a wild beauty. Flowers of riotous colours spilled across the landscape. An artist’s palette of pale yellows, vivid blues, deep pinks, and pure whites collided with one another and yet existed in a strange harmony. Fat bees buzzed between vibrant pink clover, blood red poppies, and ocean blue cornflowers.
“It’s lovely out here. I wouldn’t change a thing,” Dawn said, her hand skimming the tops of tall flowers and arching grasses.
“Uncle Jasper hates it. He keeps threatening to let the sheep loose in here to eat it all short, but Hector and I won’t let him.” Elijah cast her a mischievous look.
Dawn smiled. How could one be sad surrounded by such lovely blooms? “I wouldn’t think either of you would be fussed about a meadow of flowers.”
The youth shrugged in his casual manner. “Hector likes to pick them for Nurse Hatton, and the local girls like to come here and gather bunches too.” A slight blush rose from under his collar.
Dawn decided not to tease him about growing flowers to attract the local lasses. They were probably drawn to him like bees to the blooms. “I’m sure your aunt would appreciate them too. Does she walk the grounds much?”
“Not often, although Aunt Lettie loves the lake. She doesn’t like to be alone in the grounds after—” His voice trailed off. He snapped off a flower head and tossed it in the air, making it soar ahead of them.
Another topic of conversation to be avoided, or probably the same topic if it were related to the death of Lord Julian. “What can you tell me of the hermitage?”
The meadow ended at trees clustered along the base of a hill. From Dawn’s understanding of the layout, the serene lake was off to her left, through the trees. The water flowed down the hill and into the large pond. The hill was one of many that crowded along this side of the estate and ran backward into an even more mountainous landscape.
“It’s been overgrown for such a long time. It took me years of searching to find it.” Elijah led the way as they pushed through the trees to find a narrow path.
Dawn smiled to herself. His years of searching probably meant a few days or a summer at most. “Mouse and I searched through here yesterday but to no avail. It’s so overgrown.”
She hadn’t even noticed the path the day before. In the dappled light of the forest it seemed no more than an animal track, running from the hilltop down to the water. The oaks, elms, and birches laced hands and kept out most of the sunlight. Ferns scrambled around trunks and over jutting roots.
“Was it really the fashion to keep hermits in gardens?” Elijah glanced back as he held a branch out of her way.
“Yes. It was popular in Georgian times to keep a hermitage with a strange man who would spout philosophy or mystical ramblings at the well-bred ladies.” To Dawn, keeping a hermit in the garden was akin to chaining up a bear for entertainment – barbaric and outdated. Ladies should read books or find a more intellectual pursuit rather than laughing at unfortunates with no homes. Although if Lord Seton decided to fire her at the end of the week, perhaps she could take up residence in the hermitage.
The path angled upward and the landscape became more rock than grass. Dawn watched each step in case she slipped or tripped. Soon they were climbing over outcrops and pushing under heavy boughs but still circling upward. As she reached for a tree root to steady herself, she wondered at the oddity that the more she walked the grounds and exerted herself, the more invigorated she felt. Rather than weakening with the effort of tackling the large estate, she seemed to draw strength from the verdant growth around her.
Elijah paused and rested one hand on a mossy trunk. “Not much further.”
Mouse stuck to her side, and Dawn was grateful for his solid presence when she stumbled, knowing the dog would catch her until she found her balance again. The way before them became steeper and harder until they were no longer navigating an uneven path, but scrambling up a hillock. Dawn’s hands reached for something to grasp, and her troublesome skirts wrapped around her legs. She envied Elijah in his trousers and the easy way he hopped over outcrops like a goat.
Would it be too scandalous if she donned trousers for working in the garden? Some women wore long bloomers to ride bicycles. As long as no one saw her, she might be able to wear them. She should make a note to ask the earl’s permission.