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I had come so close to being murdered.
“Do they know who got them? Mr. McCloude?” I asked quietly, my chest constricting itself. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes.
“Darling, why would it have been Mr. McCloude?”
“He threatened me, that morning when I interrupted your tea with Greta.” Fear clenched deep in my belly, I would have never thought he would go to such a level as this. Had he hoped to kill me?
“I–I had no idea, Rose. I’m so terribly sorry. No, there was no mention of him. They believe it was some sort of animal, though what animal can take down both a horse and a grown man in such a way, I struggle to decipher.”
“You saved my life,” I whispered. William disagreed instantly.
“No, I did not. I was merely lucky enough to find you before whatever, or whomever, came back.”
“Yes! Exactly!” I placed my hands on either side of his face, coming to my knees. His skin cool to the touch, the feel of it nearly overwhelming.
“Say it was McCloude, say it was and you came to my aid, then surely we can say you saved my life. Were you not there—with Sam and the horse lost—I would have been, too. Thank you,” I pressed my forehead against his, running my hands into his silken hair, brazen with emotion. “Thank you,”
“I did no such thing, Miss Abbott. I am afraid you are ill.” He tried to detach himself from my grip, but I pressed my mouth to his.
He didn't move for a moment. Then, he leaned in, kissing me back.
His lips so unyielding beneath mine, were as cold as his skin. I wondered how long he’d spent in the frigid winter air for him to be so cold. There was the strangest sensation of lightning between us, a charge that fed me more and rooted itself throughout my entire body. It went to my fingers and toes as I gripped his hair.
William wrapped his arms around me, pulling us together. My breasts pressed into his hard chest pulling a whimper from my throat. Our lips moved so easily with one another other, I could no longer contain myself and opened my mouth slightly, sliding my tongue across his bottom lip. He groaned quietly and before I knew it, he successfully pulled himself away from me.
“How ungentlemanly of me, I apologize.” William cleared his throat, righting himself.
“Oh, don't play that with me. I’m the one who kissed you, you did nothing ungentlemanly,” I crossed my arms over my heavy breasts, flopping back into my pillows. William chuckled and leaned over me.
“Goodnight, dear Rose.” With a peck on my forehead, he left my room. Leaving me tormented by my dreams, an ache in my core.
For the next several days, William came before breakfast and after supper. Sometimes he would stay for just a moment to wish me well, and others he would stay for several hours. He read to me, sang to me, other times he simply talked. Not once did we mention the kiss or the night he brought me home. I found myself ever more enamored with him, with this accomplished man whose heart seemed a depthless pool.
On the morning I was finally well enough to leave my room, I dressed myself in the prettiest gown I owned, a sapphire blue velvet with sleeves adorned in white lace. I hoped he would visit again, hope the blue would add some much needed life to my features, as I knew just how dreadful I’d looked every other visit.
As soon as I closed my bedroom door, headed to the library where I hoped William would find me if he came, hushed voices rose from the foyer downstairs. Terse, final.
I quietly tiptoed over the hardwood to the stairwell, my hand gripping the smooth wood of the railing as I leaned over, Mother standing below with a hand raised. The skirts of another woman were visible by the door.
“Come now, Edith. This is getting out of control. He was courting Greta and we have had enough of her impish pestering! We have not been able to get him to call since Rosemary fell ill and I will not be lied to! I know he’s been here!” Mrs. McCloude nearly shouted in anger. I gasped, leaning back, the room spinning at the realization.
Mother, however, only laughed.
“Leave, Gertrude. Be done with it.”
“Is he here now? I’d say he likely is! Rumors are going around that she took him to bed to get him to leave Greta alone and—” A sharp slap, skin to skin, followed by utter silence. I leaned forward once more to Mother mere inches from Mrs. McCloude.
“Watch your mouth when you speak about my family. Rosemary has done no such thing and nor is William Blackwell here in this house. Were I you, I would be gathering every ounce of my dignity to give my daughter the best opportunity of finding a man half as decent as Mr. Blackwell. Now, again, I say to you,leave.”
Mrs. McCloude hesitated for a moment, turning toward the door. Heart thumping in my ears, I watched as she slowly opened it and began her retreat before my mother called after her again.
“Oh, and Gertrude, please note that despite the fact authorities believe it was an animal who killed Samuel, we will not rule him out.”
The door slammed shut, reverberating throughout the house. Mother audibly exhaled, running her hands over her skirts and disappearing toward the parlor. I gripped onto the banister tightly, my thoughts rushing through my mind. What would she have done if William had been here? It soured my stomach to think they would be so distraught they’d not only commit murder, but threaten us in our home. What was I even doing?
I rushed into the library, heading toward one of the windows to open the frosted pane. The air that rushed in had a brutal bite to it, but it was so clear and fresh I could not help but breathe it all into my lungs, wishing for clarity. The land was completely covered in white, glistening snow as if there were piles of diamonds scattered over the earth.
I stared at the sky, watching gray clouds envelope the sun before inevitably breaking apart. There were few animals out, a squirrel looking for food, a bird flying home to stay warm, but still in the slumber of Mother Nature there was life. I listened to the quiet, not ready to retreat into another novel and leaned over the sill to stare down at the dead rose bushes coated in rich, white powder against the house.
