Page 20 of The Dreaming Beauty
Crossing to the window, Tansy opened the glass pane, and the smell of earth recently bathed in rain filled the yellow room. She wondered if Mr. Taylor would come by again. He’d already visited two more times since he had begun his repairs on the fence. With tinkering and repairs completed, would he have an excuse to return? And did it matter to her if he did not? He had been very kind, but after Mr. Robinson, she was suspicious of everything Mr. Taylor did. It seemed strange for a man to be so neighborly.
When Tansy finally sat down for breakfast, Aster and Iris stepped into the small dining room just off the kitchen. Both had lowered brows and accusing eyes.
Had they discovered she had ventured outside last night? “I’m sorry I slept in again,” she hedged. “I did not sleep well last night.” They circled around the table to face her, neither one appeased by her apology.
“Tansy, dear,” Aster began, her soft hair and features doing little to hide that something had disrupted her equilibrium. “Do you know who we have been entertaining all week?”
“Of course. The steward of Ashbury Court.”
“And... ?” Iris prompted.
“Professor Taylor?”
“And... ?” Aster asked.
Tansy set down her spoon, knowing eating at this point was futile. “The man who rescued me from my fabled sleepwalking?” She threw up her hands. “What is it you want me to say?”
“Then, you did not know either?” Aster’s hand went to her mouth.
“Know what?”
Iris’s scowl lines were deeper than normal. “Mr. Taylor is the younger brother to the Duke of Westmorland.”
Tansy’s forehead cinched together. “That cannot be. He’s thesteward.”
“Thomas was at the ironmonger’s this morning and mentioned that the family who employed him had recently become acquainted with the steward of Ashbury Court, Mr. Taylor. The ironmonger replied, in no uncertain terms, that Mr. Taylor was far from being the steward and was, in fact, the younger brother to the Duke of Westmorland.”
Tansy had wondered about the owner of Ashbury Court what with the dowager duchess so close on the property. Now she recalled the tapestry with the lions and the crown, which now clearly pointed to a ducal house, then heard in her mind Mr. Taylor casually read the Latin phrase. “The brother to... a duke?” Her head spun. “And he was here, in our house?” Her hand went to her throat. And she, in her ignorance, had slept inhis bed. She released her neck and gripped the table instead for support.
Iris fanned herself with her hand. “I almost attacked him with a rake.”
Aster pinched her eyes closed. “Mother is rolling over in her grave, Iris. I just know it.”
“Our oddities must be amusing to him.” After all, Mr. Taylor had called them good people. “I just hope he wasn’t secretly mocking us.” She couldn’t believe he would, but he hadn’t been forthright about his family connections either. “What are we even to call him? Should he not beLordTaylor? Or Lordsomething, at least?”
“We won’t worry about anything yet and will continue to refer to him as Mr. Taylor or sir until he requests otherwise,” Aster said. “He must have his reasons for not being forthcoming. Something led you to that house that night, and I’m inclined to believe our connections to that place are meant to be.”
Iris huffed. “I’m not sure intermingling with nobility is the best course for any of us.”
“And why not?” Aster said to her. “We expected things to be different here, so we must accept them as they come.”
“This wasn’t part of the plan,” Iris argued.
“It’s time, Iris.” The calm but final way Aster said it silenced Iris.
Tansy didn’t quite know what plan Iris had or what time Aster referred to, but she did know all of them had waited for this change. Deep down, they all believed Rose Cottage would deliver them from their curse. They had been chasing happiness for so long, but the brief moments they had found had been much too fleeting. As far as Mr. Taylor went, time would reveal his true character, just as it had Mr. Robinson’s. She wanted to believe he was different, and not because of his calloused hands that knew hard work or his sincere but probing eyes. He was curious, to be sure, with more questions than she cared to answer, but he had not struck her as someone who would mock them for their lack of social graces or take advantage of them in any way.
“Where is Daisy?” Iris turned in a circle, as if Daisy were hiding away in some obscure corner. “We must prepare her for when Mr. Taylor returns.”
Ifhe returned. Tansy pointed to the window. “She went to check on her fairy houses. The hard rain last night worried her.”
Her gaze went to the now tidy fence through the window and wondered why a duke’s brother would take the time to fix it or even grace them with his company. It made no sense at all. Could they even be friends now that she knew they were so different? She had appreciated Mr. Taylor’s efforts, even though he had the ability both to make her uncomfortable and put her at ease. But he’d soon realize that they were not the sort of people a man of his position would want to be seen associating with. They weren’t like the others about town. They were different—cursed, even—and perhaps a little broken.
Chapter 11
When Marcus arrived at RoseCottage, he tied up his horse to the same spot on the fence as he had on all his other visits and stepped back to appreciate his handiwork. A coat of paint did beautiful things. He wondered what on the property he should make his next project. He hoped that with a little time, the townspeople would recognize this house and the surrounding area as harmless and the ghost stories would finally cease.
The ground was soft under his boots as he made his way to the house. Oddly enough, Mrs. Wood did not greet him at the door as she usually did. He would have to do the proper thing and knock. He almost wished he could walk right in and see a glimpse of their natural interactions. His family wasn’t so casual in each other’s company, and the connection between these aunts and their niece amused him.
