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In thy green lap was Nature’s darling laid.
—Thomas Gray, The Progress of Poesy (1757)
The funeral for little Timothy Rawles was held on a dismal November day, the reality of loss and grief leaching into the wet soil along with the tears shed by many. They had seen to relocating the family to new lodgings and replacement of necessities, but there was no replacing a child, was there?
After the funeral party broke, Georgina lingered back by the gravesite. Jeremy was in conversation with some of the men when she noticed a child, standing behind a tree, head bowed, shoulders trembling as she wept. She approached the girl and saw that a shepherd pup was tied to the tree next to her.
“That’s a lovely dog you have.” Georgina spoke softly so as not to startle the child.
“My mum says he must go as she cannot bear to see him anymore.” She sniffed.
“Is he the reason your brother went into the fire?” Georgina asked, her heart breaking for this poor, grieving child.
The girl nodded. “But it wasn’t his fault. He’s a good pup, and the fire scared him, too. I brought him here to say good-bye…for Tim—” She broke down then, her small body crumpling forward with sobs.
Georgina knelt and took the child into her arms, the small, thin little body quivering as she wept. “It is a lovely gesture to bring him here. I am sure Tim is very happy about you doing that.”
“Is Tim an angel now? In heaven?” the girl murmured into Georgina’s shoulder.
“He is, and has not a care or a worry, nor will he ever have again.” She smoothed over the girls chestnut curls. “What’s your name, child?”
“Mariah,” she snuffled.
Georgina took out her handkerchief and wiped Mariah’s cheeks. “I am Mrs. Greymont, and I am happy to meet such a brave and loving sister as you were to your brother. I’m sure he’s very proud, looking down on you from heaven.”
“Thank you, madam.” Mariah looked at her in wonderment. Then she bent to throw her arms around the pup, who had sat quietly patient the whole time they’d been talking. “Good-bye,” she whispered into the soft brown fur.
“What will you do with him?” Georgina asked.
“I have to leave him here. Someone might want him. He’s very good and smart. Tim and me, we taught him to sit and stay, and he doesn’t bark hardly at all, and he never does his business indoors.” She bowed her head and stroked her pet. “I’ll miss him.”
“What do you call him?”
“Frisk. Tim named him that because he frisks about.”
Georgina bent to pet the adorable dog, who nuzzled right over, stuck his nose in her hand, and looked up at her with round sable-colored eyes. She made her decision. “I could take him for you.”
“You would?” Mariah smiled with a child’s optimism.
“Yes, I would. Frisk can live with me, and you are welcome to come and visit him whenever you wish. He can still be your dog, too. I’m sure Frisk would miss you as well, Mariah.”
“Oh, thank you, madam. You are a good lady. I’ll try to come.” Mariah curtsied an
d made her way back to her parents.
Georgina untied the rope from the tree and bent down to stroke Frisk again when Jeremy’s voice came to her from behind. “So, you’ve got yourself a dog, Mrs. Greymont.”
She spun around in surprise. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough. I heard enough to puzzle it out.” He smiled wistfully. “And the girl was right. You are a good lady.”
“Oh, Jeremy,” she whispered, putting her arm through his. “Let us go home now.” Suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by all the sorrow of the occasion, she was grateful to have her husband for support and strength. She held on to him tightly as they left the little graveyard, which had just increased its innocent souls by one on this cold and cheerless day.
* * * *
Jeremy figured there must be something to the saying “misfortune never comes singly” because here was yet another horror staring him in the face. The letter in his hand was chilling and spurred him into action. He had no choice. The time of indecision was over, and vengeance would no longer be denied. Retribution was coming for Simon Strawnly. Jeremy was going after the bastard.
Greymont,
