Whatever that ‘good reason’ was, she’d have to discover it. Overcome it.
In the meantime, there was Daisy to think about.
The next morning was a Saturday, and though the weather had turned chilly now it was late September, the day was sunny and gorgeous. Abi found her sister changing the baby and suggested a walk in the estate woods. It would be the perfect opportunity to give her a gentle talking-to about her attachment to both Libby and her father.
‘We can show Libby the foliage and kick some leaves around,’ she told her sister. ‘Babies like colour and noise, they stimulate their brains.’
‘Gavar would like that,’ Daisy said approvingly, as Abi tried not to roll her eyes. ‘I’ll go and find her hat and mittens.’
The woods were every bit as beautiful close up as they had appeared from a distance. By the lake was a showy miniature temple. (Follies had become fashionable among the Equals a few centuries ago, because clearly having an enormous house wasn’t ostentatious enough.) Then the trees began, and stretched as far as the eye could see. Kyneston Estate really was as vast as it had seemed that first day.
Abi led the way in beneath the branches, her boots rustling through the deep leaf-fall. Sunlight filtered through the tree canopy, making the already colourful foliage vivid and bright, like stained glass cast by someone who liked only the first half of the rainbow.
‘This one is red,’ said Daisy, stooping to pick up a leaf and presenting it to Libby, who promptly dropped it. ‘And this one is orange.’
Further ahead was a tall, triangular tree that was perfectly yellow. Abi bent to root in the leaf-fall for a nice specimen to show Libby.
Her hand hit something solid yet yielding. Furry.
Backing away, she grabbed Daisy and shoved her little sis and the baby behind her, towards the tree’s sturdy trunk.
What an idiot she’d been! There could be anything in these woods. So what if there weren’t supposed to be wolves or bears in England any more. There weren’t supposed to be naked men on leashes either, yet Lady Hypatia had brought one to Kyneston.
But nothing erupted from the forest floor. No slavering fangs snapped at them; no claws knifed through the air towards them. Nothing.
Abi waited. Her hands trembled.
Nothing.
Why wasn’t the creature moving? She’d whacked it hard enough to wake anything – even Luke.
Hardly believing what she was doing, she crept back to the pile of leaves. Holding her breath, she slowly reached one hand down and felt it.
Coarse fur. But cool to the touch. And still. You didn’t have to be a med student to work out what that meant.
Emboldened, Abi brushed away the rest of the leaves. The creature – she soon saw it was a deer – never stirred. The eyes were wide open and filmed over. It was dead.
But how? There were no injuries or signs of sickness. The corpse looked perfect in every way. The fur was still thick and glossy. It didn’t even smell.
In fact, the odour here was pleasant: sweet and fragrant. Abi lifted her head and looked about, sniffing. She saw the source and smelled it at the same time.
A short way off, in a glade open to the sky, stood a tree. A cherry, judging from the profusion of pink blossom. Its branches bent down to the forest floor under their weight. In the crisp autumn air, the scent was unmistakable.
The sight was mesmerizing. Abi moved towards it and sensed Daisy following. She put her palms out and brushed them over the blossom, luxuriating in the dense flowers. At her side, Daisy had taken off Libby’s mittens and was encouraging her to touch them, too.
‘It’s so pretty,’ Daisy cooed to the baby. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’
Except it was also, some part of Abi’s brain belatedly told her, very wrong. It was late September. Autumn. Not spring, when these flowers usually bloomed.
She felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with any breeze. The deer was dead, but didn’t look it. The tree was alive and blossoming when it shouldn’t be.
‘Okay, sweetie,’ she told Libby, gently moving the branch back out of reach and shooting Daisy a trust-me-on-this-one look. ‘We’re going to go now. We’ll have our picnic back by the big house.’
She only saw him when she turned.
He was sitting on the ground several metres away, legs stretched out in front of him and his back propped up against a tree trunk. His hair was tangled, and he’d raked it back from his face, which looked thin and tired. But his eyes were bright with curiosity as he watched them. The Young Master.
For a moment he said nothing, and neither did she. Then he jumped to his feet, a smooth, quick motion, and strolled over to where they stood. He reached out and offered a finger to Libby, who seized it and started gnawing enthusiastically. Abi felt Daisy shift uneasily beside her. She plainly wanted to step away, but was unable to do so without breaking that contact.
‘Do you like my tree?’ said Silyen Jardine.