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CHAPTER17
“Imust thank you for obliging me and joining me this afternoon,” Frederick said as he and Henry walked slowly back toward the house. This surprised Henry a bit, as Frederick seemed to be genuine in his sentiment.
“It was my pleasure,” Henry replied easily. Admittedly, the excursion had been a welcome relief. He might have liked to check on Eleanor, but he had not wanted her to feel crowded. He knew that she must be reeling from the conversation at the breakfast table, but he would give her some time to work through it and be there when she was ready to talk it over.
“I feel as though I should express my gratitude now, as I may not have a chance later,” Frederick added, casting a glance at Henry through the corner of his eye.
“What do you mean?” Henry asked.
Frederick made an impatient noise and then he said, “We both know my mother was out of line with her behavior this morning. She is permitted to think whatever she wants about her roses or your grandmother’s roses, but to announce those ideas at the breakfast table? That was most unlike her.”
Henry murmured in agreement. “I was surprised by the route the conversation took.”
Frederick grimaced. “I had been hoping we might enjoy a pleasant visit, but I should not be surprised if your grandmother evicted us from the property at once.”
Henry shook his head slowly. “My grandmother, I’m sure, was stung by your mother’s words, but she said many disagreeable things of her own. She is probably ashamed of her own behavior, and before long, she will be looking to remedy the situation.” Henry liked to think the best of his relation. He knew his grandmother to be proud, and even a little arrogant. He also knew that she didn’t entirely approve of Eleanor, but he did not believe her to be deliberately callous. She would come to her senses and apologize for her cruel words. Henry was sure of it.
Before Henry or Frederick could discuss the matter further, a shrieking wail pierced the grounds. Henry and Frederick were nearly entering the backside of the gardens when the screeching caught them off-guard. Henry glanced at Frederick and his eyes were wide and alert. Both men took off at a sprint, racing in the direction of the ghastly sound.
Henry knew the garden paths better than Frederick and so he coasted ahead, leaping over decorative borders and small bushes. The shrill cry continued to rent the tepid afternoon air, and Henry felt his pulse quicken. Whoever was screaming at the top of their lungs was gravely injured. He feared for Eleanor. He wasn’t certain what she would be doing out in the gardens, but he thought of her just the same.
As Henry sped along the pathways, with Frederick right on his heels, he prayed that whatever had happened to one of the ladies, the damage would not be irreparable. The squealing yell got louder, and Henry knew that he was headed in the right direction. He came around one final corner into an enclosed area where trellises had been built and rose vines crept up to them tenderly. Henry skidded to a stop as he saw not Eleanor, but his grandmother on her knees in the middle of the alcove.
She clutched rose petals in her hands and clawed at the remnants of others that lay scattered at her feet. Henry had never seen anything like what lay before him now.
His grandmother, the same woman who only ever bent a knee to royalty, was sitting on her knees, rocking back and forth miserably. The fine day dress she was wearing was covered in dirt and stray bits of leaves. Her hair was disheveled, and she had not stopped wailing.
Frederick nearly ran into Henry’s backside as he came into the recessed area right behind him. Frederick huffed, apparently as alarmed by the sight before them as Henry was. Both Eleanor and her mother were already standing behind Henry’s grandmother, but they were both as still as statues. Three servants arrived on the scene just then, as they must have also heard the Dowager Duchess’ cries of lamentation.
“What…What happened?” Henry asked, glancing about the garden in search of what could have caused this apparent disaster. Some of his grandmother’s roses were perfect and pristine, having not been touched by the offender, but others had been plucked clean from the vine. It was as if they’d disappeared.
Henry’s grandmother stopped bawling loudly, but she continued keening back and forth, holding tightly to a fistful of rose petals. “It was her,” the Dowager Duchess of Lawson croaked, her voice hoarse from the screaming.
“Me?” Lady Barrow asked, her eyes widening in surprise at the accusation. “I did no such thing. I never stepped foot in your garden until this very instant.”
“Not you,” the Dowager Duchess hissed. Then she raised her head and glared at Eleanor. “You.”
Henry watched as all the color drained from Eleanor’s face. He knew, without a doubt, that his wife was not responsible for the massacred flowers that were littered about around their feet, and so he stepped forward to defend her. But before the words could leave his mouth, a guttural bleating sound broke the silence.
Henry turned to see the two ugly goats that belonged to Eleanor. Both had mouthfuls of roses. One of the beasts gazed at Henry mournfully while it chewed on the red petals. Then, it dipped its head toward the trellis and yanked another white rose bud into its mouth.
Henry’s grandmother shrieked, the sound a mixture of heartbreak and fury. She hung her head and began to cry softly. As if the moment weren’t wretched enough, Eleanor’s cats appeared around her ankles. Henry wasn’t sure which cats they were, as so many of them now lived on the property, but after they circled their mistress, they began to dance delicately through the rose petals that were scattered about on the ground.
If the cats had not been gamboling amongst the remains of his grandmother’s prized roses, it might have been a remarkable sight. They were frolicking happily and even Henry, who usually abhorred the sight of them, would admit that their grace and litheness were admirable. But with the situation being what it was, Henry felt like the playful attitude of the cats only added to Eleanor’s guilt. Everyone knew the goats and the cats were her animals and there was no arguing: they had destroyed the Dowager Duchess of Lawson’s prized roses.
“How could you?” Henry’s grandmother cried, looking at Eleanor accusingly. For the first time ever in their acquaintance, Henry saw Eleanor was stunned into silence. She wrung her hands in front of her, but she said nothing. “She did this to hurt me, Henry.” His grandmother turned to him then. Her eyes were forlorn and angry tears coursed down her cheeks.
Henry tentatively took a step forward and he lowered himself so he could help his grandmother off the ground. She moved slowly, but she allowed him to assist her. Carefully, she came to an upright, standing position. Henry whispered, “It was not Eleanor’s fault, Grandmother. She cannot control her animals.”
Henry’s grandmother’s eyes flashed darkly. She dropped the rose petals she had been holding and she grabbed his hand with her long, thin fingers. As she gripped his arm tightly, he felt as though her hands were more talon-like than anything else. “If she cannot control her animals, then they should not be permitted to stay here.”
“Grandmother,” Henry said softly, but she was not to be dissuaded now that she had fixed on a course of action.
“Henry, this nonsense has gone on for too long.Ishould have put a stop to it…nay,youshould have put a stop to it long ago, but you were too bewitched by your wife and her good looks.” She stopped talking and looked at Eleanor malevolently. “You must fix this situation. Those beasts destroyed my roses…” She gasped as a sob escaped her. “My prized roses… they will never be the same. I demand retribution.”
“What…” Henry faltered, “What would you have me do, Grandmother? I know the animals didn’t attack your roses intentionally. They are just animals. They eat whatever they like.”
“But they shouldn’t be allowed to roam free, and they shouldn’t be on our property!” Henry’s grandmother responded, her eyes now taking on a stormy aspect. “We never had any problems, any issues at all, until that cursed woman brought all her abominable animals here.”
Henry turned toward his wife then. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, but other than that, she appeared not to have moved a muscle. She was distraught, that much was clear. As Henry watched, Eleanor’s mouth set into a grim line, and she spoke quietly, “I am sorry for what has taken place here, but you must know: I would never willingly let my animals ruin your prized possessions. I know how much they mean to you, and I would not want to bring such pain and suffering on anyone.” She glanced down at her feet, where her cats were still prancing about, playing in the fallen rose petals.
One of the stable hands appeared at Henry’s side and placing tethers around the goat’s necks, he led the two animals away from the disaster they had created. One of the goats made a baleful sound as it was being pushed away. The noise seemed to infuriate his grandmother as she tightened her grip on Henry’s forearm once more.
“I am in earnest, my boy. Those animals must be punished for what they have done. Send them away. Be rid of them once and for all. You must do what is right.” Henry’s grandmother fixed him with her cool stare, and he felt rather helpless. He broke eye contact with his grandmother and turned toward Eleanor. She was also looking at him intensely.
Henry was torn between these two women he loved. Both were crying unabashedly, and both were looking to him to learn how he would handle the situation. Henry glanced back and forth between his wife, her lovely blue eyes watery with tears, and his grandmother, her violet eyes hardened by her loss. Henry knew he must choose between placating his grandmother and hurting Eleanor by sending all the animals away from the manor.
The problem seemed impossible to solve, as it was. There was no way to reach a decision without permanently inflicting pain on one of these women he loved.
