It was late afternoon when Rogan left Evy asleep and came downstairs. He would be relieved when Dr. Jackson arrived tomorrow. She must still be suffering the effects of her fall down the steps … That Heyden van Buren! Rogan just itched to lay hold of him.
He left the house and walked around the side of the mansion into the rose garden. The rain had stopped and dewdrops were on the roses. He paused. Yes, Elosia Chantry was there as he’d expected, strolling among her beloved roses, her large hat shielding her from any lingering sprinkles.
Rogan watched his father’s maiden sister. She had left an aristocratic life in London to come to Rookswood to assume the role of woman of the family soon after Rogan’s mother died. Rogan had never needed Elosia, nor had Parnell. Their younger sister, Arcilla, however, had needed her desperately. She was the coddled baby in the family and had taken her mother’s death painfully hard. Elosia was considered of the old school, pompous, autocratic, and haughty, or as Rogan affectionately called her, “Mama Bear.”
She hadn’t seen him as yet and moved along the brick walk to pause before a favorite red rose bush. She bent over to sniff it appreciatively, gloved hands folded behind her.
He smiled as he walked to join her.
She straightened and turned.
“Oh, Rogan, dear boy.”
“Look, Auntie, I’ve got to talk to you about Evy.”
She lowered her pince-nez to regard him with lofty demeanor. “Aha, I thought it would come to this eventually. Well, you should have listened to me and married Patricia. She understands you, you know. She’s of your kind. Evy is a sweet girl but totally unprepared to assume the role of mistress of Rookswood—”
Rogan sighed and folded his arms across his chest, regarding her with tilted head. He knew just how to handle her. He’d been getting around her autocratic ways since he was thirteen. There was an understanding between them. He came straight on, always had, and she knew it. When she saw his narrowed gaze, she stopped in midsentence.
“You know I love you dearly, Elosia, but things have gone far enough where Evy is concerned.”
“What?”
“You know what I mean. All this rot going around London circles about my needing to marry her because she was pregnant. It’s all a sickening dish … served out by our darling Patricia. If it keeps up, I’ll need to confront her in London. You tell her that, will you? Tell her if she wishes to continue discussing my wife, I may do a bit of discussing myself—about her.”
She looked stunned. “You’re serious.”
“Quite serious.”
“Well, I never believed it about Evy for a moment. I told her so this afternoon.”
“Even so, the talk has her upset. It’s got to end. That means you, too.”
“Me? But really, Rogan, whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, old dear. It’s time to draw in your claws and get used to the undisputed fact she’s my wife. And”—he smiled to soften the impact of his next words, for he had no desire to hurt—“she is the future mistress of Rookswood.”
“What—whatever do you mean, dear boy, draw in my claws? Why, I’ve been quite gentle with the girl.”
The girl. “Aunt Elosia, the girl, as you persist in addressing her, is Mrs. Rogan Chantry.”
“If you had only mellowed toward Patricia and married her. How much simpler things would be.”
“For you perhaps, and dear old Julien as well, but I made up my mind years ago I would marry whom I pleased. You best know my devotion to you, Auntie, will reach its limit should it come to a choice between the two of you. So please don’t try to make me choose. That goes for Julien, too. Though I think he knows better now.”
“You know how outraged Lord Bancroft remains over your betrayal of his daughter?”
“There was no betrayal of Patricia.”
“Well, then, dear boy, I believe you, but it does make things most difficult for me. How can I attend the upcoming socials when I will need to come face-to-face with Lord and Lady Bancroft?”
“I’ve married Evy Varley, and there’s no more to be said about it.”
“Van Buren, dear boy. She’s no more a Varley than I am.”
“She’s a Chantry now, so forget Patricia. I don’t want her name mentioned again to Evy. I don’t think she’s well. I want her left alone.” He narrowed his lashes, smiling. “Understood, Auntie?”
She looked dismayed. “Well, I—I’m sure I can’t possibly promise not ever to mention Patricia—”
“Yes, you can, old darling, and you will. Evy is to be treated with the respect she deserves. She’s unhappy, and I’ll go to London over this if I must. I’ve already talked to Charles, but I want it stopped here as well. Granted, she has plenty to adjust to. She was raised in the vicarage, not at Rookswood, but she’s more than capable of learning what’s needed. She’ll be a stunning mistress of the family estate one day, and it’s important that family and acquaintances understand that.”
“My dear boy! I’m sure I don’t understand what has you so upset. Of course she will be an asset to you and Rookswood. I never thought otherwise.”
“Evy seems to think she’s treated as an odd piece of china.”
“Yes, isn’t it? And we won’t have Mrs. Rogan Chantry feeling that way, will we, Auntie?”
“Perish the thought, my boy. I didn’t realize I had upset Evy so. Tush! I shall try to be more careful henceforth. We must do something. Yes, something to make Evy feel perfectly comfortable in the family. Now let me think … what should that be …”
Rogan smiled wryly. “Begin by inviting Mrs. Croft to Rookswood to look after Evy’s interests.”
“Yes, she did mention Mrs. Croft. I thought Mrs. Wetherly was quite enough.”
“Mrs. Croft will stay on the third floor in the governess quarters. Do you wish to express any other reservations?”
“Well, naturally she needs to learn, and there are so many things she doesn’t know yet. And Rookswood and the family reputation are important. But if you think Mrs. Croft is necessary.”
“Evy feels she is,” he said smoothly.
“Then I’ll tell Mrs. Wetherly to have the rooms ready.”
“I knew I could count on you.” He put his arm around her shoulders and walked with her through the sea of red blooms toward the side door that opened into an afternoon sunroom.
“Oh, by the bye, dear boy, have you heard anything more from Julien since the letter he sent about your marriage?”
Thinking again of his uncle’s lecturing monologue rekindled Rogan’s temper. Julien had threatened to cut him and Evy both off from the diamond mine. Rogan wasn’t worried so much about that as he was about Evy’s acceptance at Bulawayo with Julien. Rogan didn’t like the idea of leaving her there under his authority while he went off to the Zambezi gold mine.
“No, I haven’t heard back from Julien. He must not have appreciated my response.”
“I suppose you told the old one-eyed lion how your choice of Evy was your own business.”
“That must have wrangled him. He so wanted you to marry Pa—” She stopped at once and glanced at him.
Rogan covered a smile. He opened the door and let her pass through into the sitting room.
“Ah, well,” Elosia was saying. “Arcilla has her troubles with Julien as well. She’s written that he’s now chief native commissioner or some such title at some dreadful sounding place.”
“Bulawayo,” Rogan said absently.
“Yes, Evy told it to me as well. Sounds like a dry, dusty place full of charging bulls.”
Rogan was still considering Julien. What if he went on the expedition into the Matopos looking for Lobengula’s burial cave while he, Rogan, was hundreds of miles to the north from where Evy was?
“Arcilla’s worried sick over Peter.”
He looked at her. Had his sister told her about the plan to attack the Transvaal? In her wire of the other day, she’d said she had told no one else. If Julien found out she’d wired him—
“Worried? About what?”
“About Peter’s position as Julien’s assistant.”
“What else did she write you about? Anything important?”
“If you’re asking whether she mentioned that foolhardy Dr. Jameson and his plan to start a war with the Boers, no. She did not. She wrote about Peter’s dreadful situation, trying to appease all those naked savages. My poor, precious Arcilla—”
“Then how did you find out?” he asked pointedly.
“My dear boy! If you think it’s a secret after that conversation with Lyle in the library the other day, well, you have another thing coming. I’m quite aware you stormed off to see Lord Salisbury in London. But don’t worry. I doubt anyone else paid attention. So what did his lordship say to you?”
“To mind my own business,” Rogan said wryly.
“Did he really!”
Rogan thought of the meeting in Salisbury’s office at Pall Mall. Salisbury said he would wire the high commissioner at Capetown, even though he personally rejected such nonsense, saying it would be a fiasco of the worst sort for Jameson to sponsor a raid into the Transvaal with England and the Boers teetering on the edge of war. Salisbury had cynically asked Rogan if he was fool enough to think the British government actually wanted war with Kruger.
“I’ve not said that I do, sir,” he had answered.
Salisbury had huffed over his insult but assured Rogan that Her Majesty’s government did not want a war with the Boers. They would never secretly sanction Jameson’s raid into the Transvaal. “And Milner is working day and night for peace.”
Rogan had been pointedly silent about that …
“So,” continued Elosia, “Arcilla is worried over Peter. I do hope he’s not fool enough to allow Julien to dip his hands into blood.”
Rogan turned sharply to look at her.
Just then one of the new maids entered with a bob of her skirt.
“What is it, Rosie?”
As he spoke to her, she twittered and blushed.
“Oh, Master Rogan, sir, a good afternoon to you, sir!” came her nasal twang. “Yes, a package for you. The post brought it just a wiggle ago,” she tittered. “And here it is, for you!” She presented it as a gift from her hand to his. She beamed. “You see, sir, I just happened to be looking out the window here”—she gestured to the window facing the rose garden—“and saw you walking over from the stables, so I ran to get the package from the hall table.”
Rosie must have caught the bored, unamused eye of Lady Elosia. She blushed and bumbled out of the room.
Rogan felt sorry for her. It was nothing new to have girls titter in his presence. When he was young it amused him, and he would deliberately give them his most devastating smile. Evy was the only one who hadn’t acted that way. The only girl who had presented a challenge to him. And when she finally did smile at him, he hadn’t shown it, but he had dreamed of kissing her. He’d only revealed that recently—on their honeymoon. “I had that effect on you?” she had gasped, delighted, clapping her hands together. “Oh, if only I had known!”
“Which is the very reason I didn’t tell you, you heartless creature.”
He looked down at the package. It was from his friend, Derwent Brown. He’d been expecting a report on the gold mine, and any other happenings. Rogan thought Derwent was swimmingly good about reporting the news. He might have made a respectable newspaperman. He was anxious to get alone and read it.
The postmark caught his eye. Why was he not at Fort Salisbury, but Bulawayo?
“Is it about diamonds?”
Rogan came back to his aunt’s curious voice.
“No. This would be the report on the Zambezi gold mine. Though the postmark looks as though Derwent mailed it from Bulawayo.”
“The van Buren man is there as well. Did Evy tell you she received a letter from him?”
Rogan became alert. “Heyden?”
“A doctor. Some uncle, or other, to Katie.”
“He’s a cousin, Dr. Jakob van Buren. No, I didn’t know he had written her. He’s in Bulawayo?”
She looked smug. “I must say I’m surprised Evy hasn’t told you. Extraordinary!”
He tried to keep his irritation from showing. “She mentioned it to you?”
“No, I saw it. The postmark on the envelope was the same as Derwent’s parcel. You know … Bullswayo.”
He ignored her unwillingness to learn the name. He wanted to ask her when Evy had received the letter, but that would reinforce his aunt’s enthusiasm over discovering Evy’s “secret.”
“If you’ll excuse me now, Elosia, I’ve work upstairs.”
“Yes, of course. Is Evy feeling any better? Rosie said earlier that she was lying down asleep. I’d heard that Mrs. Tisdale saw her leaving Dr. Tisdale’s a few days ago.”
He turned and looked at her.
Her eyes gleamed.
Tisdale? “Nothing to worry about. We agreed that she’d be checking in with the doctor to make sure she’s up to the voyage to Capetown. And Dr. Jackson will be here tomorrow to give his opinion.”
Elosia appeared satisfied … and perhaps faintly disappointed at his response. If it was disappointment, it couldn’t be over Evy’s good health.
He turned and left the room. His jaw set. So she went to see Doc Tisdale? And, just like Jakob’s letter, she hadn’t told him. And his aunt had taken notice.
He dashed up the wide staircase to the second floor on the west side of the mansion to their suite.
He entered and saw the bedroom door was still closed as he’d left it with Evy asleep. All was silent, and the rain tinkled on the windowpane.
Forget it, Rogan. So she didn’t tell you she went to see Tisdale, or about the letter. We’re newly married, and both of us are used to independence and privacy. She forgot, is all. It’s not important.
Had his beloved old aunt wished to cast suspicion between him and Evy? Why had Evy gone to Dr. Tisdale?
Rogan frowned over his concerns and walked into his small office next to the sitting room. The rain clouds made the cloister dark. He lit the lamp and dropped Derwent’s report on the desk, removing his coat and rolling up his sleeves. He undid his tie and tossed it aside—then his frown deepened. He remembered that Evy picked up after him. He snatched the tie from the table and looked around for a place to hang it. He finally folded it up and impatiently stuffed it in his jacket pocket. Single life on the veld had some advantages!
It was a relief to get away from all the gibberish of maids and the small talk. It would be refreshing to read Derwent and Mornay’s report on his gold and learn what was happening with the British South Africa Company. He longed for the masculine world he’d left behind.
He opened the package and removed Derwent’s letter, followed by a heavy report. Some of the first words in the letter hit hard—
Depressing news, Mr. Rogan. I’ll get straight to it: Mr. Mornay and two other good miners died in an explosion at the Zambezi mine this July. Before Mr. Mornay died he asked me to bring some gold he had to Dr. Jakob van Buren, who is here at Bulawayo. That’s where I am now, staying with Dr. Jakob. Mornay came back to his childhood faith in Christ through Dr. Jakob. So Mornay wanted his belongings to go for the new mission that Jakob’s opening here about a mile from the old Lobengula kraal.
After I buried Mr. Mornay on the Zambezi, I left the geologist, Mr. Clive Shepherd, in charge, and I took off for Salisbury. A stage is running from the fort now, down to Bulawayo, so I traveled on it. Guess I’ll be staying here with Dr. Jakob and Alice and the children. At least until you and Miss Evy arrive. Don’t know what your plans will be now. I think you’ll want to see the mine, though it’s shut down since the explosion. Mr. Shepherd and some armed Uitlanders are keeping watch. The BSA has yet to look into matters. Sir Julien seems preoccupied with other things. He asked one of the men with me if he’d lead an expedition into the Matopos, but the old Uitlander wouldn’t do it. Don’t know why Sir Julien wants to go up into those hills. There’s rumors that Chief Lobengula had the Kimberly Black Diamond.
Things don’t look good here at Bulawayo, Mr. Rogan. The Ndebele are looking with curses on the English who built Government House at the old kraal. They don’t take much to Dr. Jakob, either. They say among themselves that the white god is poison to the Umlimo. I don’t like Alice and the children being here much, or your sister and Cousin Darinda. Miss Darinda is determined to stay to work alongside her grandfather. As for Miss Arcilla, she’d leave today if she could. Mr. Peter is grim. I shouldn’t say this, but Alice told me the marriage is going poorly. Captain Ryan Retford is working for Peter. He’s much like you, I think. But he and your brother, Mr. Parnell, don’t seem to like each other. They remind me of two big lions circling each other.
Not good news about the mine either. Before the explosion Mr. Shepherd told Mornay he was convinced the gold had run to a dead end. It’s all in the report I’m sending, with my own report as I see it, along with the professional report from Mr. Shepherd.
Mr. Mornay thought the mine had gone bust, too, but he wanted a chance to go deeper into the ridge first before the report was to be sent to you. That’s when the dynamite brought down too much dirt and rocks. The cave-in was a sad hour, Mr. Rogan. I got some bruises, which is nothing, and Mr. Shepherd took a bad injury in his arm and shoulder. Dr. Jakob looked at it and says he might not be able to use it much in the future. The other two miners lost were an Australian and a new lad from Pretoria, both Uitlanders from the Transvaal. One Shona died, another has an injured foot. We also lost two good mules. All in all, it’s been the worst of times.
Derwent T. Brown
Rogan slowly folded the letter and set it aside. He took time to remember his friend Mornay. The loss, on a personal level, hit hard. There were none better as a hunter-guide than the old Frenchman, except perhaps his father before him. Rogan had lost a friend and ally. He had hoped they would sit around the campfire together and discuss his most recent ideas about Henry’s map upon his return. Now it would never be.
Death. It was often sudden and surprising, though every previous generation had passed through its doorway. No one should be shocked by it, but they almost always were. As for men under the sun, with death came the end of every dream.
Rogan opened the desk drawer and took out his small Bible and flipped to Job. If he could find those verses again … He’d come across them on Sunday while sitting with Evy in chapel as they waited for Vicar Osgood to step behind the pulpit. Those verses were being reinforced in his mind, because of Mornay’s death.
He found them in Job chapter twenty-two and read slowly, starting at verse twenty-four: “Then you will lay your gold in the dust, and the gold of Ophir among the stones of the brooks. Yes, the Almighty will be your gold and your precious silver; for then you will have your delight in the Almighty, and lift up your face to God. You will make your prayer to Him, He will hear you, and you will pay your vows.”
He pondered. Pondered their wisdom, their warning, their invitation. He remembered Mornay. He considered his own heart.
Now Mornay was gone. He had left everything behind, including his skills, so treasured by others. But Mornay had showed more than benevolence by giving his possessions to Dr. Jakob for the mission station work. He showed a trust in God’s Word that rules beyond death.
It was good that Dr. Jakob was able to direct Mornay back to his Christian faith. Though Derwent hadn’t said so, Rogan believed Derwent’s consistent life had even more to do with Mornay’s decision.
Thunder rumbled over Grimston Woods.
Derwent might not know as much about mining as the geologist, whom Rogan hired to work with him, but Derwent’s keen discernment was something Rogan held in quiet regard. If Derwent sensed trouble stirring on the veld at Bulawayo, then he was likely on to something.
Julien was shopping about for someone to lead that expedition. Where was Heyden? Somehow he didn’t think the Boer was very far from Bulawayo.
All this troubled him even more because of Evy. If only there were some way to get her to stay home and allow him to proceed on this dangerous venture alone.
Yes, he’d made a wise decision in arranging beforehand for Dr. Jackson to see her tomorrow. Now, if he could just convince Jackson to tell Evy that she was not strong enough to make the trek to Bulawayo …