A Rose for Beauty

Chapter 12

By evening Lydia was feeling better than she had in days. More rest and even a brief, dreamless nap had restored her energy and dulled the shocks of the morning. Despite the ache in her head and a stiff shoulder, she felt rested and energetic and couldn't avoid smiling as she sat in bed. Anna looked at her almost suspiciously when she came up to deliver her dinner.

 “How are you feeling?” she asked.

 “Oh, I'm feeling much better.”

 “Well, you do look it,” Anna agreed reluctantly. “I wouldn't expect you to feel so well after a crack like that.”

“I've had a lot of rest,” Lydia said, and made an effort to seem a little less vibrant, but felt sure it was useless. Anna granted permission for a short trip downstairs and as soon as she finished her stew – this time the potatoes were hard, oversized lumps – Lydia rose and dressed and headed for the stairs.

“Be careful,” Anna called. “If you fall and hurt your head again you are on your own.”

“Lyddie!” Downstairs, William enfolded her in a surprisingly gentle hug, then pulled back to search her face anxiously. His eyes lingered on her forehead, where her fingers had told her she had a large lump (although it had gone down considerably over the course of the day). “You frightened me. Never do that again!” He pulled her close and embraced her again, whispering in her ear. “Save us! Clara's cooking is even worse than mine!”

 Lydia laughed, but tried to smother it as she caught sight of Clara. She was sitting at the end of the table alone and glowering at Thomas and Henry, who poked unenthusiastically at the lumpy stew rapidly cooling in their bowls. Someone was missing, though.

 “Where's Father?” She tried not to reveal her panic, but it slipped into her voice despite her efforts.

 “Don't worry,” Thomas soothed. “He came down for dinner, he just felt tired after. Anna is helping him to bed now.”

 Lydia allowed herself to be reassured and sat in one of the rough wooden chairs, plucking a green apple with a rosy red blush from the bowl of fruit in the center. “How much longer will there be fruit?” she asked.

 “Not too much longer, truth to tell,” Henry said. “We've been trading the fruit for supplies for the winter. The plums are nearly over, the apples will be done soon, but it will be time to collect nuts in a month or two.” He grinned, an uncharacteristically carefree expression for his serious face. “Don't look at me like that. Mr. Cotter came out and looked at it for me and told me more about what we have out there.” He grew somber once more. “We should have enough to carry us through the winter at least, but things may be tighter in the spring and summer before the orchard bears again. We need to find another way to support ourselves.”

 They looked at each other, each feeling the prick of anxiety in their own way.

 Anna came down the stairs, interrupting them. She took a sharp, measuring look at Lydia and declared her tired out, ordering her back to bed for the night. After hugs from Thomas and William, Lydia allowed herself to be shepherded upstairs with a smile. Her mysterious energy seemed a little depleted, and once she was back in bed she fell quickly asleep.

 When she recognized her dream surroundings, Lydia experienced a moment of terror, but no more, for it immediately became apparent that the nightmare landscape of her earlier dream had vanished. Daylight filled the glasshouse, and except for an overturned chair, no indication remained of the frightening creature that had assaulted her there earlier. The relief was so profound that Lydia felt her knees tremble, and she extended her hand and sagged against the chair. She fought to slow her pulse, but suddenly there was a voice behind her.