Riverbreeze: Part 2 (31 page)

Robert settled down, but his anger still simmered like a pot of water about to boil over. “Close to the hearth. I was moving some of the debris around with my stick and it just…appeared.”

“But just because we found this doesn’t mean he set the fire. He could have been visiting or…or…” Her voice trailed off when Robert’s expression showed what he thought about that idea.

“He’s wasn’t just visiting.” Robert scoffed. “I had a conversation with him the other day at the gathering and he said some rather uncomplimentary things about Beatrice. He said she was unworthy and unholy…”

“What!” Abigail cried out. “What a cruel thing to say.”

“He wasn’t nice at all, Abby. He also said…” He stopped short remembering something else.

“What? What did he say?” Abigail quickly demanded, quite upset. Robert’s expression turned stormy. He looked directly into Abigail’s eyes. “I think we need to ask Burnett some questions, not only about this, but about your attack as well.”

She let out a gasp. “My attack?” She cried in a small voice. “Surely you do not believe he was responsible for my attack?”

“He asked about you. He asked if you were at the gathering and I told him you had stayed home.” Robert’s face crumpled, realizing that if Burnett was responsible for Abby’s attack, it was his fault. “Oh Abby, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have told him you had stayed home.”

She touched Robert’s hand. “’Tis not your fault, Robert. We still do not know if he was the one.”

“Do you remember anything at all about the attack?” Robert asked gently. “I know you do not want to talk about this—“

“No, I do not.” Abigail interrupted firmly. “I told you on the way over here, I do not want to talk about it; I do not know who did it and I do not want to pursue it.” She ended frantically. She pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her mouth, trembling a little.

She would never tell him how it had happened; how she had been returning to the house from a trip to the privy; how the man had come up from behind her—he had probably been watching and waiting for her—and grabbed her, forcing a scream out of her. He had immediately pressed a sweaty hand over her mouth, muffling her cries. She had fought him fiercely but he had been too strong and he had shoved her into the house. She had remembered the little knife in her pocket, had pulled it out and had slashed at his hand. That had infuriated him and he had hit her, dazing her. She didn’t remember much after that. And she had never seen his face; he had been too clever, wearing a sack over his head with only two holes cut out for his eyes. And he had never said a word so she couldn’t identify his voice. She realized he had probably planned the evil attack. She thought again about what Robert had said about Burnett asking for her. It could have been him, but how could she prove it? And what could she do? She was only a woman and a widow; they would say she had asked for it.

“All right. All right.” Robert responded quickly. “I’m sorry.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “I shan’t talk about it again.”

“Thank you.” She said quietly.

“But I am going to give this scrap to Thomas. At least it proves that Burnett was here. Thomas can then question him himself or file a charge against him, if he so desires. One way or the other, Thomas will find out the truth.”

Abigail hoped so. If Burnett had set the fire, she did want Beatrice’s death avenged.

It didn’t take long for them to find Thomas at the construction site. They showed him the scrap of handkerchief and Abigail told him what she knew about the embroidery while he studied it. He was silent for a few thoughtful moments; then he thanked them profusely, taking the scrap and putting it safely in his own handkerchief. He said he wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet. As much as he wanted to find Burnett straightaway and demand answers, he knew he should approach this carefully and sensibly. But he did assure Abigail that he definitely would do something. He had loved his sister as fervently as Abigail had and eventually he would find the truth.

Abigail was satisfied with that. The truth would not bring Beatrice back, but everyone might be able to rest easier afterwards.

She and Robert spent the next hour digging up plants; hyssop, penny royal, tansy, wormwood, lovage and more. It was a shame this garden would be lost. It had been beautifully laid out with six raised beds with clamshell paths, a brick wall on one side and picket fences surrounding the rest of it. At the center of each raised bed there was a rose bush encircled by the rest of the herbs, some of them native and some of them imported from England.

Abigail thought that maybe she could come every day to tend the garden, but quickly dismissed that thought. She couldn’t ask Jamie or Robert to bring her here every day. They had more important things to do than that. She also thought that maybe she could ask Thomas Warren to rebuild the little cottage using some of her money and she would continue Beatrice’s work, but that would be too presumptuous of her and she honestly didn’t think she wanted to live here anyway.

In the end she resigned herself to the sad fact that this garden would be lost. But she could transplant these plants into Robert’s herb garden and remember Beatrice that way. She also decided that she would continue Beatrice’s work. Quietly she would spread the word whenever she met people and she would start her own journal of receipts and patient cases.

She wondered what had happened to Beatrice’s book, but looking over at the charred ruins of the house, assumed it to be lost forever. Nevertheless she asked Robert to help her search for it among the ashes.

They did find it, under fallen roof beams and cedar shingles, but it was beyond saving. The leather cover was black and blistered and the pages crumbled away in black flakes. All her hard work; all her recipes; all her knowledge, gone.

Abigail fought back tears as she clutched it to her bosom regardless of the mess. It left her gown and hands black with soot, but she didn’t care. Finally she couldn’t hold back any longer and Robert held her while she cried tears of sorrow onto his shoulder.

Once her tears were spent, they gathered up the plants, said goodbye to Thomas, then loaded the boat and Robert rowed them back. With a new purpose to her life, she felt somewhat renewed. She would stay with the Bassetts for the time being, but eventually she did want to have a little house built—hopefully on Robert’s property if he would allow it—where she could live for the rest of her life and tend to people’s ailments. And in the meantime she would keep her ears and eyes open and assist Robert and Thomas in any way she could to find the truth behind the fire that had killed her friend and lover.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: In Sickness and In Health

Right on schedule, three days from Jamie’s first bout with the intermittent fever and chills, he was stricken again. He had expected it, of course, and tried to beat it by ignoring his rising temperature, but failed miserably.

Yesterday, while Robert was at Warren’s place with Abigail, he had taken the opportunity to travel to the Archer’s plantation to retrieve his horses and Robin’s kine. He had cleared it ahead of time with Robert, taking Dolnick with him and leaving Nathan at the house with the twins. Both of them had felt quite comfortable with that arrangement and they had been right. Nothing untoward had happened and the twins had enjoyed a day mastering their housewifery skills.

Now it was Friday morning and he was in the stables, raking and shoveling manure. Half-way through the job he noticed he was becoming uncomfortably hot. He thought it was due to the work he was doing, or at least he
hoped
it was due to the work, but he had a sinking feeling that that was not the case. Nonetheless, he threw off his jerkin and shirt, but that didn’t help. Neither did splashing his face, neck and chest with cold water. He even forced himself to work even harder in order to make himself sweat profusely, but that only made him lightheaded and dizzy. He was afraid he couldn’t ignore it, but by God, he wanted to!

He may have been a fool, but he refused to return to the house. There was work to be done and he would not leave the care of his horses to Dolnick on their first morning back from their stay at Archer’s place.

Evelyn found him passed out on the stable floor a half hour later. When he hadn’t shown up for breakfast, she had begun to worry.

And once again, much to his disgust he was carried into the house, put to bed and plied with all kinds of Abigail’s decoctions: dogwood bark tea, willow bark tea, and some other smelly mixture that he couldn’t identify except for the brandy which was the base of the cordial. Thankfully he only had to take one spoonful of that before each meal.

He didn’t know if it was due to Abigail’s decoctions, but the fevers and chills were less severe than they had been on Tuesday. He didn’t need to sleep as much and several times he could get up and walk around a bit. When he was brought his meals, he was able to feed himself—he and Evelyn had a small disagreement about that; she wanted to do everything for him, but he won the argument only when he showed her that his hands didn’t shake and when he promised he would eat every last morsel. He would have done so anyway, knowing it would contribute to his recovery, but she didn’t know that.

He normally didn’t find anything good about his disease, but that day there was a pleasant side effect of his day in bed. No, it wasn’t what he truly would have found pleasant, but the hours spent playing cards and having Evelyn read to him from Robin’s book, Aesop’s Fables, was fun, actually. Evelyn was an expert at the game of Ruff and Honours which required four players so they couldn’t play that, but he was more at ease playing the tavern game of All Fours. She was unfamiliar with that game, but it wasn’t difficult for her to catch on. The game was rather simple and when she started to win after the first few hands, she wasn’t shy in showing her glee.

He didn’t begrudge her response, but deep down he thought she might have, at least, toned down her gloating a little in respect of his suffering. But she didn’t.

It was only then, later that night, when the fire had burned down and there was only one candle on the bedside table, and the noise in the house had quieted, that she laid down beside him, cuddling against his side, and in a soft voice, whispered an apology for her thoughtless behavior. He wished he could have taken her then; he wished he could have stripped her naked, gazed upon her face and body by the flickering light of the single candle and kissed her all over. But he was too weak and it was her time of the month. He would have to settle for exchanging sweet kisses and holding her in his arms until they both fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, feeling eighty-five percent improved, he tried to slip out of bed without waking Evelyn, but he failed.

“Where are you going?” She asked as he drew the bed curtains aside and got up.

“I’m going to get dressed.” He said simply.

“But shouldn’t you stay in bed and rest?” She suggested.

“I just spent the last twenty-four hours in bed and I have too much to do.” He said, throwing off his nightshirt and pulling on shirt, breeches, stockings, boots and a leather jerkin.

“Jamie, please…I worry about you.”

“No need. I feel much better this morning.” He said, raking his fingers through his hair, then tying it back with a leather thong. He returned to her side of the bed. “Please, do not nag me about this.”

“I wasn’t…”

He held up his hand to silence her. “I’m giving you your first lesson today. Remember, tomorrow we’re taking the horses to church.”

“I remember.”

He smiled and gave her a kiss. “I enjoyed your company yesterday.” He said warmly. “If only we could have…” He shook his head sadly. “Nevermind…I’m going to feed and water the animals, then clean out the stables. Then I’ll be back in time for breakfast. After that…” He paused meaningfully. “…Your lesson.” He grinned cheekily.

She couldn’t help but smile back. His smile was too infectious. “I’ll be ready.” She said reluctantly.

“’Twill be fun! You’ll see.”

* * *

Evelyn could hear him chuckling softly to himself all the way out the door. Despite her anxiety over learning to ride, she was happy he was feeling well enough to give her lessons, although he still looked very tired and she knew he was pushing himself.