She turned the first corner and was suddenly surrounded by the fragrance of summer. There were flowers all around her. The mingling of the scents reminded her of her valley back home, and though it didn't make much sense to her, she could feel herself begin to relax a little. She took a deep breath, clasped her hands behind her back, and continued on. She stopped several times to lean down and examine more closely a flower she didn't recognize. One she found most curious. The flower had red and pink petals that reminded her of a rose, yet when she bent down to inhale the scent, she was surprised by the heavy aroma of lilacs.
Being alone in the beautiful garden soothed her. She was pleased to know Lord Elliott liked the outdoors, and she thought that the two of them had something in common after all to talk about. She could tell him about her garden back home, and he could name all the flowers in his backyard paradise for her.
She straightened up and continued on along the path, and when she turned the next corner, she spotted an elderly man, bent down on one knee, carefully examining a flower. The man wasn't dressed like a gardener, for he wore dark Sunday pants and a sparkling white shirt. He'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. Mary Rose couldn't see his face because he wore a straw hat with a wide brim pulled down low on his forehead.
She thought he might be her father, but she couldn't be certain, of course, and she didn't know quite how to proceed. She almost turned around to hurry back to the courtyard, then changed her mind and continued forward.
Elliott heard the rustle of skirts behind him and assumed one of the maids had come outside to see if she could be of assistance. He reached over to his side, pulled the basket he'd already filled with flowers, and lifted it up for the maid to take.
'My daughter might like to have more than one vase of fresh flowers in her room,' he explained.
He still hadn't looked up at her. Mary Rose took hold of the handle of the basket in her left hand, looped it over her arm, and continued to stand there, feeling completely tongue-tied and foolish.
Elliott didn't seem to notice she hadn't immediately taken the flowers inside. She patiently waited for him to look up at her. She thought she would probably begin the conversation by introducing herself, and, Lord, how she prayed her voice wouldn't betray her nervousness.
'I wonder if my Victoria likes flowers,' he remarked.
She took a deep breath. 'I like them very much, Father.'
Elliott went completely still for what seemed an eternity to her, and then he slowly turned to look up.
His breath got trapped in the back of his throat and his heart felt as though it were going to explode into a thousand fragments. The first sight of his Victoria proved to be too much for him. Sunlight surrounded her golden head, giving her a mystical appearance, and for a brief moment, he thought his beloved Agatha had come down from heaven to be with him again.
She was her mother's daughter. Victoria had finally come home. Elliott couldn't catch his breath or his balance. He felt himself reeling to the side and would have fallen to the ground had she not reached down to offer him her hand.
He grasped hold of it as if it were a lifeline and held tight. And still he continued to stare up at her with a look of wonder in his gaze.
She smiled at him, a soft, beckoning smile so very like her mother's, and then she began to blur in his vision, and he realized he was weeping silent tears.
Mary Rose helped him stand up. She wanted to put her arm around his waist to steady him, but he wouldn't let go of her hand long enough to allow her to assist him.
His straw hat had fallen to the ground. She stared up at her father and thought to herself that he was indeed a handsome man, given his advanced age. In the sunlight his hair sparkled silver. He had high cheekbones and a nice, straight nose. The way he stood, so noble and proud, like a statesman or an orator, reminded her of her brother Adam, and she thought that if their skin color were more similar in tone, people would mistake them for relatives. Her brother had the blood of his chieftain ancestors coursing through his veins, and that was why he stood so proud. Did Lord Elliott come from such fine ancestors too? She would have to remember to ask him one day. Now it didn't seem appropriate.
Father and daughter continued to stare at one another for several more seconds. Elliott was valiantly trying to compose himself. He extracted a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears away from his face.
And then he gave a brisk nod, squeezed her hand tight, and nodded once again.
The two of them turned and walked hand in hand back to the house. His voice was rough with emotion when he finally spoke to her.
'I'm very pleased to have you back home with me.'
She nodded so he would know she understood and then tried to think of something to say to him in return.
She wanted to be completely honest with him, but kind too, and so she simply spoke from her heart.
'Father?'
'Yes, Victoria?'
'I'm pleased to know you didn't throw me away.'
Lord Elliott's younger sister, Lillian, was the first of the family members to arrive for the reunion with Lady Victoria.
Of all the relatives, Lillian had been the most difficult to convince that her brother's daughter had truly been found. She had suffered all the disappointments along with Lord Elliott, had seen the anguish each pretender had caused, and worried that this too would end in yet another cruel deception.
The proof had been indisputable, of course, and yet Lillian still withheld judgment. She would decide for herself if Mary Rose Clayborne were Victoria or just a schemer out for financial gain.
'William, whatever are you doing sitting out here in the heat?' she asked as she rushed outside. 'You're going to become ill if you aren't more careful.'
Harrison, Lord Elliott, and Mary Rose all stood up when Lillian walked toward them. Her aunt kept her gaze fully directed on Mary Rose.
'She does look like Agatha all right,' she allowed. 'The resemblance is quite remarkable.'
Elliott formally presented his daughter to his sister. Mary Rose smiled. She didn't know if she were supposed to bow or curtsy or shake her hand, and so she simply stood there and waited for Lillian to give her some clue as to what was proper conduct.
Lillian didn't look like her brother. She barely reached his shoulders. She was a thin woman with a hawkish nose and dark brown hair. She had the same high cheekbones though. Lillian would have been a more attractive woman if she didn't wear such drab colors. She was dressed in a dark gray dress that made her complexion look terribly pale. If she pinched her cheeks real hard, she might achieve a bit of color.
She also needed to quit scowling. She was all but openly glaring at Mary Rose.
'What is your name, child?' she demanded. She clasped her hands together as though in prayer while she waited for her answer.
'My name is Mary Rose Clayborne.'
'She doesn't call herself Lady Victoria,' Lillian remarked to her brother. 'I wonder why not.'
Mary Rose answered her. 'I've always been called Mary Rose for as long as I can remember, madam. The name Victoria has no meaning to me.'
Lillian was taken aback by the young woman's directness. Her frown intensified. 'You look like my brother's late wife, but I'm still not fully convinced you're his daughter. Do you wish to try to convince me, child?'
Mary Rose decided to be completely honest, no matter how rude it made her appear.
'No, madam, I don't wish to try to convince you. I do, however, fervently wish you wouldn't call me a child. I'm not, you know.'
'Lord, she's impertinent, William.'
Mary Rose didn't know what to say about that. Her father came to her rescue. 'She was being truthful, not impertinent.'
Lillian nodded. 'What are your plans?' she asked.
'Oh, for heaven's sake, Lillian; My daughter only just arrived. We needn't talk about plans now. Sit down and quit pestering her.'
'I simply wanted to get to the root of this as soon as possible.'
