A Rose for Beauty

Chapter 9

Back at the cottage, Thomas and William transported their new charges to the yard at the rear of the house. The chickens were mostly white, with bright red combs and black spots everywhere but the heads and tails. The cockerel had a long, silky white tail with spots of black at the very ends of the feathers, and carried himself with the air of an arrogant gentleman. Lydia smiled to see her brothers, once the toast of fashionable dinner parties, laughing and awkwardly tossing out handfuls of corn as they stepped gingerly around the clucking hens to avoid treading on them.

Henry came outside to help them patch a hole in one wall of the coop, and Lydia went back into the house. She checked to be certain that Anna had gone upstairs to see their father before she pulled out the packet of lavender and assembled ingredients for the tea. She combined them quickly, nervously checking over her shoulder to be sure that no one was going to come in and see what she was doing. Once they were all together, she stirred it clockwise three times and spoke the words written in her book. 

A peculiar sensation swept over her, like blood rushing to her head and being taken by a chill all at once. Well - that was alarming. Nothing like that had ever happened from using the little spells in her book! As it receded a wave of dizziness took its place, and she braced both hands against the table and leaned on them until it passed. Anxiously she examined the contents of the teacup, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It looked like a perfectly innocent cup of tea, albeit pale purple and smelling strongly of lavender.

Anna came down the stairs looking worried, but her face cleared a little when she saw the steaming cup on the table. "Oh good! It's ready." She took the teacup carefully and headed again for the stairs, but after only one or two steps she paused and looked back at Lydia. "You don't look at all well, Lydia. Perhaps you ought to lie down."

Lydia wanted to argue, but felt too frail to be convincing. She nodded. "I think I shall, at that."

Anna went up the stairs, and Lydia followed more slowly. She staggered and clung to the wall, more tired than she could remember being in a long time. Finally she made it to the top and wrestled open the door, but stopped short at the sight of Clara lying in the bed, staring motionlessly at the wall. Lydia wavered in the doorway, unwilling to deal with yet another problem when she was so depleted. Still, there was nowhere else for her to go, and the lumpy straw-filled mattress looked more inviting than it ever had before. Too tired to resist, Lydia slipped off her shoes and climbed into bed on the other side. Within instants, she slipped into a deep sleep.

In that sleep she dreamed. Lydia found herself in the same gardens as before, with the same soft summer air and the same silence. Distressed, she looked about her: she seemed to be in the 'ruined' temple she had been in before she woke the night before. Every detail was the same, but she was alone. She sat on the bench fashioned like a fallen column and tried to think. Why would she dream of this place she had never seen? Why was it so vivid?

Sitting provided no answers, so she rose to her feet and began walking with hasty steps in a direction she had not yet been. The flowers and fountains no longer provided the distraction they had when she first saw them, but she did not see any alternative to walking except for sitting down again. Even the dubious diversion of walking through the silent grounds all night was preferable to sitting idly in one place until she awoke. Her greatest fear - though it was half a hope - was that she would encounter the same man she had before. As she walked she tried to decide if she feared or hoped more.

After a time she noticed a sound, faint but growing louder. Soon it became loud enough that she could tell it was a voice. A man's voice. And he was calling her name.

At the sound of her name on his lips, shouted over and over, Lydia decided that she would rather not meet with him, after all. She turned in the direction that seemed it would take her farther from him and hurried away. As she did she looked behind her and saw him, silhouetted against the sky at the top of a rise. She strove to walk faster, seeking some shelter from his gaze before he could catch sight of her, but she was too late.