The rose gardens loomed ahead. Not a weed showed under the well-tended bushes as they had yesterday. The blood-red rose with the heavenly scent dripped blooms and she reached out to touch one of the velvet soft petals.
“Mama’s favourite. I put some in the vases this morning. Come and see them.” She let herself be guided by Gertie, feeling herself sinking deeper and deeper into this other life, desperate for a hint of why she was here.
Gertie pulled her along, leading the way to the crypt perched over the lake. The stone building stood tall and silent, the only redeeming feature the vase of blooms perched on the door just below the family crest. She stopped in front of it, fighting down the panic and memories of her own and read the inscriptions. She reached out a hand and gripped one of the handles, feeling reckless beyond reason as if doing something outrageous would make her feel better.
“Papa doesn’t like us opening the door.” Gertie gasped, and brushed her hands from the handle.
“Why not?”
“Because he says it will only release the bad memories. You know how devastated he was when Mama died. He swore he wouldn’t ever go in there again after she was laid to rest and we both promised to respect his wishes.” Gertie moved the stems around, flicking off a little harlequin beetle sitting on the yellow centre of one rose. “It’s sad that he never talks of Mama, but you did tell me it’s how he’s managed to deal with losing her.”
“People deal with loss in different ways.” She knew from experience that some managed better than others.
“I understand that, but it hurts not to be able to talk about her with him.” Gertie smiled, though her lips wobbled.
“You can always talk to me.” Then she might understand what was going on.
Gertie leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, a waft of rose water mingling with the scent of the fresh flowers. “I know, you said that too.”
“Miss Wilhelmina, Miss Gertrude.”
They both glanced around and she sucked in a breath.
Gertie smiled. “Mr. Wilkes, the roses are looking superb as usual. Aren’t they, Wilz?”
She cleared her throat and stared at the younger version of the gardener she’d met only yesterday. There could be no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes nor the dimples that creased each cheek. “Yes, they’re beautiful. But I knew they would be.” He glanced at her with hooded eyes and she stepped away, pretending to inspect another bush of pink roses taking the time to breathe steadily. She struggled to hold back the scream bubbling in her chest. Now more than ever she had to remain calm.
“Let us walk around the lake toward the forest, Wilz. I don’t want you overdoing it today. Perhaps tomorrow we can walk further when you’re feeling more like yourself.”
“Good idea.” She gazed back at Wilkes from under her lashes, bid him good day and glided away following Gertie along the edge of the lake.
The shadows from the forest cooled her turbulent mind. Sunlight dappled over the sparse grass and understory of the large trees. Calm slowly came back and she ambled through the forest, taking it all in. She felt her heart beat slow to a more normal pace in the shade, as if hiding in the shadows would help her come to terms with what was happening.
A light breeze floated over the ground and sent fallen leaves tumbling over her shoes.
“Wilz, my love. Wait.” She peeked over her shoulder and saw a young man dressed in a dapper navy-blue suit hurrying toward them with a slight limp.
“Who is it?” A hollow ache hit her belly.
“It’s Ernest, Wilz. Are you telling me you don’t remember him either?” Gertie grasped her locket and twisted it on the chain, a frown on her forehead.
“Cousin Ernest, you know I do.” She’d come across an old black-and-white photograph of him in her research. The only other male member of the family apart from the father. He’d studied as an architect but never designed more than one or two buildings of substance from what she discovered.
He reached them and leaned in to kiss her on the mouth, but she pulled back, her eyes misting as she sidestepped him. Her emotions were all over the place.
He frowned. “What’s wrong? Wilz, tell me what’s going on.” He glanced between the girls.
“I knocked my head and I don’t feel particularly well right now. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She attempted a polite smile, but it didn’t quite come off as well as she’d hoped by the look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. About your head, I mean.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine once I rest up.” She blushed, his scrutiny becoming too much for her. “I think I should go back to the house and lay down.” She lifted a hand, brushed at the beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. “I don’t feel well at all.”
Ernest reached for her, pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “There, there, Wilz. Take it easy now. Breathe in.” He stroked her hair as she held onto his jacket lapels. It was all too much, her legs refused to hold her up and she could hear Gertie fussing around her.
His mouth moved over her hair toward her cheek and she shuddered. She pushed against his chest, her head tilted away from his searching lips. “Please, I don’t feel well. I’ve told you that already. I wish to lie down. Alone.”
“Keep up the pretence my dear girl.” He nibbled on her ear, his hot breath rolling over her throat as her stomach roiled in protest. “Heaven forbid your father should look out of the window and not see me trying to touch you nor do we want your little sister to guess the truth. You know she will figure it out sooner
