Love Comes in Three

Chapter Seventy-Six "Treats and Treasure"

            By the time we got back home the three of us were thoroughly drenched.  Charlotte ushered us in through the kitchen making enough fuss to bring Freddie, Mr. Nassar and even Patience who decided to carry on about my health.  When I reminded her that Dr. Crane said I was well except for a little exhaustion she changed her tune.  I think I saw Freddie was hiding a laugh as his wife scolded me as if I were a naughty child who shouldn't have been out of her sight.  I wanted to be upset at her for treating me so, but seeing him as amused as he was, I just couldn't.  Once Patience had her say the three of us were sent to our rooms to get out of our wet clothes while she had something prepared to warm us.

            I took Leah, who had also been snickering at Patience's antics, by the hand and was leading her towards the stairs when I noticed that Owen took his journal from his jacket and handed it to his father.  Mr. Nassar nodded solemnly and patted his son on the shoulder, telling him to do as he was told.  Then the elder Mr. Nassar said something to Freddie.  I was highly curious in regard to that journal.  Owen kept it with him as if it were part of his very soul, yet the only thing I saw inside was a map.

            "I'm cold," Leah said through chattering teeth, bringing me back into the moment.  I looked at my friend, her hair had fallen in the rain but the long tresses were taking on curl and the chilled temperature brought out a delightful color in her cheeks.  "Margaret, why are you staring at me like that?"

            "Leah, you're positively lovely," I smiled.  When Owen began to walk past us hastily, I called out to him, "Mr. Nassar, don't you think that the sudden change of weather has brought out the beauty of our Miss Edgehill?"  I did not have to look at Leah to know she was not happy with the attention I was bringing to her.  She let go of my hand and wrapped her arms over her body, rubbing her arms.

            Owen looked at us both, briefly, "Only Mother Nature could improve upon such daughters."  With that he quickly ran up the stairs and disappeared.

            "What could that mean?" I said turning to Leah.

            "It means that he's cold too but smart enough to get changed!"  She brushed past me in a hurry and I found myself practically running to catch up with her.  "Really, Margaret," she sighed when she got to her door.

            "Leah, promise me that you'll sit for me," I begged.

            "What are you talking about?  You don't paint . . . not that I've ever seen," she contested.

            "No, but I do sketch.  Let me sketch you one day?  I swear I won't let anyone else around," I pleaded, "I'd just love to draw you with your hair down like it is now.  You'd be a lovely composition."

            "I think your sister is right and you do need a doctor's care," she scoffed opening her door.

            "Please, Leah?  One day . . . "

            "Perhaps," she sighed, "but ask me again when I'm warm and dry!"  I stood there as the door closed in my face, realizing at once that I too was cold.

            The rain threatened to continue for the rest of the day, I did not mind as I loved to be in the library and just listen while I read.  I decided to make that my plan in case Leah did not return from her room.  I heard one of the maids prepare a hot bath for her so I installed myself beside the fire while I changed.  I took my time warming myself so that Patience would not fuss again. 

            Once I was mostly dry I grabbed a wrap and headed for the library with the intent to hide behind a book and stay out of the way.  I was sure to blame for everyone's misery . . . for soaked children, for unwanted attention, for damaged treasures.  I felt another wave of uncertainty crash over me.  My thoughts returned to Percival's heartfelt letters as well as Isaac's violets that I cherished.  If only he'd send word.

            I kept clear of the main rooms, skirting around doorways.  Freddie and Mr. Nassar were busy talking over brandy, and from the smell of it, our father's pipes.  It was good to hear my brother laugh so much.  I imagined that Patience had returned to the nursery, at least I hoped she had.  I could not bear with her fussing much more.  I was not sure if I preferred her attention or dissatisfaction at this time.  Both seemed suffocating.

            As I ducked into the library as quietly as I could, Charlotte caught a glimpse of me and nodded.  I knew that a tray would be on its way with a steeping pot of tea and some cakes at least.  I was prepared to enjoy a little solitude, not to find Owen kneeling in front of the hearth with papers spread all around.  "I keep stumbling upon you when you're in distress," I tried to sound lighthearted.

            "M-miss Woodbridge," he stammered trying to get to his feet, keeping his eyes averted.

            "Please, don't," I said stopping him, "Is there anything I can do to help?"  I stood close but did not hover, not wanting to intrude if he didn't want any assistance.

            "I'm just drying . . . " Owen let out a sigh as he looked over the scattered pages in front of the fire, "I s-suppose you think it's silly."

            "Oh, no," I said as I knelt opposite him, "I would be equally upset if my journals were ruined."  I carefully lifted one page and held it against the warmth emanating from the fire, "I hope you did not lose anything."  I noticed that some of the ink began to bleed, but honestly it did not look that bad to me.

            "I don't think so," he answered wistfully.  I noticed at times when he was calm or preoccupied that his voice took on a heavier tone, much like that of his father.  It was a pleasant, earthy voice not like those of most English men.  Also the stuttered barely existed if he was in his own thoughts, "Maps can always be redrawn."

            The doors opened and Charlotte bustled in with a large tray, "A special treat for my dearies," she smiled.  She set the tray at the table and began setting our places.

            "Is that hot chocolate?" I asked excitedly.  It was a rare treat that she would make, usually only around the holidays.

            "Yes, and cakes, but you mustn't tell Mrs. Woodbridge, she'll be after me for spoiling your dinner."  Charlotte smiled widely and gave me a wink before she turned to leave, "Now you children be good and eat that all up!"

            I took a cup to Owen so he could stay by his work and as I was getting myself a cake, the doors opened again and Leah peaked through, "Have we moved the party in here?"  Her voice was barely audible but I had come to recognize the lyrical tone and I waved for her to join me.  "What are we doing?" she looked past me to see what was keeping the young Mr. Nassar busy.

            "We are trying to save his journal," I said handing her a cup.  I watched as she tentatively stepped beside him and looked over his shoulder, "Maps?"

            "Y-yes," he smiled towards her but kept his eyes on the pages.

            "Like treasure maps?"  The way she asked was so innocent it made me smile, as it did for Owen as well.

            "Ah, only if there's an x," I watched as he looked at her, he must have felt it was safe because she was intently studying one of the drawings that was hanging from the mantle, "treasure maps always have to show you were to dig."

            "Do you have any of those?" She looked to him wide-eyed.  I kept quiet as two of the most shy people I ever met were building a repertoire.          

            "I-I'm sure that we can find one," he laughed.

            "Margaret, did you hear that?  A real treasure map!" Leah bounced back to me, a happy light in her eyes.

            "I did," I patted her hair, "I wonder what it will lead to?"

            "We w-will just have to find out," Owen answered as he sipped his hot chocolate, going back to turning the dampened pages.