Further surprises of newly married life visited Evy with the first promise of the chilling autumn. Excitement tugged at her heart, and uncertainty her stomach.
Wearing her new walking habit, she came quietly down the stairs on her way to the village. She paused. Rogan’s voice came from the library on her right.
“Milner no doubt already knows,” Sir Lyle said in a disinterested tone.
Milner, she wrinkled her nose, who was he? Oh yes, the high commissioner at the Cape colony. What did the commissioner already know? Rogan sounded angry about whatever it was.
Evy came down the stairs and walked across the Great Hall to the library door. Sir Lyle was sitting behind his huge mahogany desk piled with books and a sheaf of paper, working on his laborious history of Rookswood. His hair was a light brown speckled with gray. He was tall and lean, and in Evy’s opinion was nothing like his son in either appearance or personality.
Rogan turned from the window with white curtains and burgundy drapes and looked at his father. Rogan’s rich brown eyes were as electric as a thunderstorm.
Sir Lyle frowned. “Not that Milner would admit knowing. Rhodes, as well. In public they’ll pretend innocence and shock. But it’s hard to believe Jameson would plan on doing such a thing without Rhodes’s knowledge.”
Rogan moved abruptly to his father’s desk. “Milner wants to provoke a war with Kruger. I’d wager on it.”
“Now, now, son, I wouldn’t go as far as that.”
“What more do you need? He’s in with the diamond bugs. Money rules both kings and paupers.”
“I didn’t know I raised a cynic.”
“Oh, come. The gold and diamond moguls are quietly putting the pressure on both Milner and the secretary of the colonies to deal with the Boer problem once for all. Milner is sure England will win this war. The Boers are fierce fighters and stubborn. They won’t be beaten easily. But in the end, Father, as in the Civil War in America, the Confederacy could never have won regardless of how well they fought. They lacked factories and the ability to make weapons and feed their armies. Once their farmlands were burned or decimated, they would be left to starvation. The Union took the war to the backyard of the Confederates. That made the difference between victory and defeat. Do you think our government doesn’t know that? The Boers will be fighting on their own farmland.”
“You’re right, there. I suspect Chamberlain would agree with you.”
“The gold and diamond boys have always wanted the Transvaal. Provoking Kruger is a ploy. They want him to react by issuing an ultimatum!”
Sir Lyle waved an airy hand. “No use getting upset, son. You can’t change politics.” And he went back to his writing. “Did you know,” he commented a moment later, “that your great-great-uncle rode with the Norman Bohemond against the Seljuk Turks in the First Crusade? Most interesting.”
Rogan looked down at him. Then in an act of frustration he turned. “I’m going to Pall Mall,” he stated and strode from the library.
Evy stepped quickly past the door before Rogan came out into the hall, apparently not noticing her.
Now, what was all that about? But she was late for the village and wanted to avoid any delay. She watched him dash up the stairway and out of sight, then she hurried out the front door.
Rogan threw open the door to the sitting room. “Evy?”
He heard horse hoofs through the window and crossed the room to look outside. Evy was astride the golden mare he’d bought her from a horse-breeding farm in Dublin. The white mane of the horse flew majestically as Evy rode at a gallop down the lane toward Rookswood gate. Where is she going? He dropped the curtain and went into the bedroom to collect the information he intended to bring to Pall Mall to show the foreign secretary. He frowned as he read again the wire from Peter Bartley, his brother-in-law.
Wait till his father’s old crony in Parliament hears this!
Peter believed that Sir Julien and Cecil Rhodes’s right-hand man, Dr. Leander Starr Jameson, were planning to lead armed soldiers, up to six hundred hardened fighting men, to aid the Uitlanders in Pretoria, the capital of the Boer Transvaal, where President Kruger himself had his house and where the Volksraad, the Boer Transvaal Parliament, was located.
The Uitlanders were feared by the Boers, who naturally saw their growing influx over the recent years as a threat to their majority rule. The Uitlanders were not allowed to vote for members of the Volksraad until they had lived in the Transvaal for a number of years. That law, however, seemed fair enough to Rogan. Though he did not have strong feelings about the Boers, he did not want a pitched battle with them. Fighting at this time would also interfere with his plan for another expedition based on Henry’s map as well as his search for Heyden. The vessel he had booked passage on was set to depart for the Cape in two weeks. He intended to allow nothing to hinder his boarding of that ship.
He drew his brows together as Evy came to mind. The decisions he made since marriage must now take into account what was best for her. In some ways, even before the marriage, he had taken her into consideration, but he now felt a frustrating pull in two directions.
He deliberately turned his thoughts back to a troubling message that Arcilla had sent by wire that morning. The Uitlanders were suddenly stirring up trouble in Pretoria, accusing the Boers of mistreatment of British subjects and calling for London to intervene, with military might, if necessary, to protect them and their rights. Arcilla had written that Peter hinted the plot was “cooked up” by the gold and diamond moguls in order for Jameson and others in the BSA to secretly ride into Pretoria. Jameson had been assured by the leaders of the Uitlanders that they would rise up in rebellion, and together they would overthrow the Boers just as they had overthrown Lobengula and taken Bulawayo.
It was insane. Did Rhodes know about it? And what about Milner and Secretary Chamberlain?
Rogan thought of his father. Sir Lyle had many important friends in Parliament. He even knew Milner and Chamberlain, and when in London, he visited Chamberlain at his country house. Even so, after reading Arcilla’s letter, Sir Lyle had merely waved a hand.
“You take our dear little Arcilla’s word for anything of this magnitude?”
“Yes, and for the reason you just mentioned.”
His father had looked at him with puzzled gray eyes.
“Arcilla would never come up with anything this shrewd on her own. This smells of Julien and Doc Jameson to me.”
His father considered, then nodded. “Maybe so. Still, son, there is nothing I can do.”
“Father, you can go straight to the Parliament.”
“And bring down the wrath of the government on my head? I’ve my work here to do.” And he patted his desk. “Here, I shall stay.”
“Then I’ll go.”
“The one thing that worries me is Arcilla. If Julien discovers she sent that wire to you—”
Rogan frowned to himself, remembering his father’s warning. He placed his sister’s letter inside his jacket pocket and snatched his hat from the peg. His mind was made up. Arcilla was already at odds with Julien over Peter’s career. There had also been that scandal in Capetown over Arcilla’s foolish behavior. Julien had browbeaten her over that fiasco.
Maybe he should contact Peter about this first.
But could he rely on Peter to tell him the truth about a plot to invade the Transvaal? He could trust his brother-in-law about Arcilla, but little else. Peter, as yet, was astride two horses, struggling to keep them in rein.
His father, Rogan thought, irritated, was little better. The old frustrations welled up inside him. He loved his father, naturally. But not much could work him up except musty history!
Someone at Pall Mall must put pressure on Milner in Capetown to drop any plans for an invasion.
When would Evy return from her afternoon ride? He looked at the time. He quickly wrote her a note about where he would be and when he expected to return, then left Rookswood for London.
The summer leaves outside the medical-office window were red and gold. Evy finished dressing and was seated on the chair when the angular Dr. Tisdale entered with a benign smile.
“Well, dear Evy, you were right. You are going to have a baby. Congratulations! I’m certain this is happy news indeed for both you and Rogan.”
The smile on her face had felt glued there for the last half hour. At any other time the news would have thrilled her. Weighing heavily upon her mind now was how this pregnancy would affect her plans to go to South Africa. From her own viewpoint, nothing could change her mind except a bedridden state. But it was Rogan’s view that worried her. What would he say?
Evy paused, her hand on the doorknob, and turned back.
“Dr. Tisdale, I’ll ask that you please not mention this to anyone until I speak to Rogan.”
He drew himself up to look an inch taller, his professional countenance showing. “My dear Evy. As a doctor I never discuss the health of my patients with anyone except those immediately involved. I would not for any reason preclude your singular right and joy of informing Rogan that he’s to become a father.”
She blushed. “No, of course you wouldn’t, Dr. Tisdale. I suppose I’m a bit flustered over the news.”
His face mellowed into an understanding smile.
“Normal, my dear, quite normal. I saw you ride in on the horse. You be careful, now.”
She might have protested a bit about personal “news” getting out and about the village. After all, what of her spinal injury? Her health and treatment were freely known by all in Grimston Way. In fairness to Dr. Tisdale, however, he was not the physician who handled her injury. Rogan had searched and found Dr. Jackson, a specialist on Harley Street in London.
Evy left the doctor’s cottage on Rook Lane and walked slowly, thoughtfully, to Main Street. She was thinking of doing a little personal shopping at Mildred’s Haberdashery, when she saw Mrs. Tisdale coming her way with her normal rolling gate. Mrs. Tisdale saw her and called cheerily.
Evy sighed.
“Oh, Mrs. Tisdale, hello.” She smiled brightly as the woman walked up.
“Hello, my dear. Doing some shopping, are you? And where’s that charming husband of yours hiding? My, I should think you would shop in London now … oh, did I see you leaving Alfred’s office?” she asked of her husband, Dr. Tisdale.
“Uh—no, I—was just walking. Such a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”
Evy’s conscience smote her. She saw the interest in Mrs. Tisdale’s eyes sharpen.
“Rather a blanching afternoon, I thought. You do look chilled, dear. Your cheeks are pink … Well, ta ta, I’ve got to run. Take care, Evy.” She started off down the walk. “Oh …” She stopped and looked back, calling, “Isn’t that Lady Elosia’s coach?”
Evy looked down the street. It was. Mr. Bixby was coming out of the apothecary shop with a small package. He handed it inside to Rogan’s aunt.
“Ah,” Mrs. Tisdale said, satisfied. “She’s just the woman I need to see. Martha Osgood mentioned using some of Rookswood’s chrysanthemums for the fall fete …” She stopped short again and looked at Evy with apology. “Oh. I could just as easily have asked you now that you’re Mrs. Rogan Chantry, couldn’t I? So difficult, you know. Thinking of you as the wife of our future squire. One just automatically thinks of Elosia.” And she hurried off down the street, hailing Bixby before he could drive away.
Evy entered the haberdashery, not wishing to talk to Lady Elosia until she could gather her emotions and wits together. Had Mrs. Tisdale suspected she wasn’t telling the truth?
Evy stood tiredly in front of a row of buttons and pins but hardly saw them. She placed her palm to her aching head and momentarily closed her eyes. Oh, Father, forgive me for lying like that to Mrs. Tisdale. It was wrong.
She didn’t know what was coming over her lately. She seemed to be lax in her devotions, too. I’m doing things I’d never do at the rectory when Uncle Edmund and Aunt Grace were alive.
A sudden longing for Aunt Grace poured over her. But what would she and Uncle Edmund say if they were alive to see how she was compromising?
Suddenly, Aunt Grace’s concerned face came out of the past, as though from the rectory when Evy was a girl. “You worry me,” she often said. “You can be so careless in your behavior at times.” Evy had wondered back then what Grace alluded to, and when she grew older, Grace commented on her propensity for willfulness. “You must have gotten it from your mother.” At the time, Evy naturally thought she spoke of Junia, Grace’s sister.
Willful? Am I?
Evy had never thought so until more recently. With time and marriage and no ties to the rectory, there were moments when she felt a stubborn streak emerging from the shadows of her personality and coming to the forefront. Even Rogan had made casual reference to it. He had jested that he was to blame for bringing it out in her. “I’m afraid I’ve taught you some habits Mrs. Havering would speak to me about if she were alive,” he had said in Paris on their honeymoon.
Where had it come from? An emerging streak of willfulness could not be from Grace’s sister Junia, whom Evy thought back then was her mother, but from the beautiful, willful Katie, of course.
Still, she wished Aunt Grace were here now. She could go to her and feel her motherly arms around her, sharing the joy and excitement of the news of carrying her and Rogan’s baby. It would strengthen her to face the onslaught that was sure to come.
“Evy? Are you ill?”
Evy turned swiftly to face the peering eyes of Mildred, the shopkeeper.
“Oh, I’m fine, Mildred. I … I was looking for some buttons … These are nice, I’ll take them, please.”
The old woman hurried to write up the bill as Evy dug into her coin purse to pay for the buttons.
“And how is Mr. Rogan?” Mildred asked curiously.
“He’s doing well. Thank you for asking,” Evy said as she handed Mildred a few coins.
“I’m so glad to hear that. I was worried.”
Evy looked up from her coin purse to meet the kindly but curious eyes staring at her. “Oh?” Evy asked carefully.
“You see, I saw him just a short time ago as I was returning from the house. I took luncheon today with Hiram. Mr. Rogan was running and nearly collided with me.”
“No, no, dear, quite all right. He was profoundly apologetic. Said he must catch the train to London.”
“Oh?”
“He looked very angry—not about me, of course.”
“No, of course not …”
“He had the scowl of Scrooge, he did. Well, here’s your buttons, Evy.”
“Um, yes, thank you. Good day, Mildred.”
Evy left the haberdashery. He’d gone to London. No doubt this was related to the talk in the library with Sir Lyle. He would have left her a note, but she was sure he would be back for dinner.
Evy drew her brows together as she walked to where her mare was tied in the shade of the big oak tree. Mildred seems dreadfully curious about Rogan … making much of his anger, and probably now wondering why I didn’t know that my own husband has just caught the train for London.
Evy untied her mare and mounted, then rode slowly toward the winding road up the hill to Rookswood. She was deep in her spiritual wrestlings and did not hear the horse-drawn coach coming behind her until Mr. Bixby slowed down and maneuvered to one side of the tree-lined roadway. Lady Elosia leaned her head through the open window. Her large fancy black hat flapped untidily in the wind.
“There you are, dear girl!” her deep voice boomed. “Get down, do. Bixby!”
“Yes, madam.”
“Tie Evy’s mare to the back of the coach. Hurry, girl. It looks like rain.”
Evy glanced up at the sky. Ominous dark clouds were streaming in from the north. She was in no mood to endure the criticism of Rogan’s aunt. Still, there appeared no easy way out of the dilemma, as she rightfully respected Rogan’s family. I may be Mrs. Chantry, the future mistress of Rookswood, but to Lady Elosia I’ll always be little Evy Varley from the vicarage.
Evy climbed down from the saddle, handing the reins to Mr. Bixby, the dignified elderly man who carried himself with the bearing of a general. She lowered her voice. “You’ve just come from the village, Mr.
Bixby?”
“Yes, miss—madam. Lady Elosia feared she was coming down with the autumn grippe and went to see Dr. Tisdale for tonic waters and bitters.”
Dr. Tisdale. Evy’s heart lurched. She glanced over at Lady Elosia, who was still looking out the coach window with a pale powdered face.
“She saw the doctor before or after she met Mrs. Tisdale, do you know?”
Was she mistaken, or was there a show of sympathy in his eyes?
“It was afterward, madam.”
This was the worst possible thing to happen. She couldn’t explain the truth to Elosia before she told Rogan, she simply couldn’t. It wasn’t fitting. Had the doctor let it slip? He had said he wouldn’t, but Evy did not underestimate the wiles of Mrs. Tisdale, or Lady Elosia, for that matter. Had Mrs. Tisdale roused her curiosity? Evy knew the questions Elosia would ask her in the coach should her curiosity be aroused. “Ah? Expecting, girl? Hmm? So soon!”
Mr. Bixby opened the door. Evy squared her shoulders and gazed up into the coach, where Lady Elosia was seated.
Into the lion’s den.