“Me?” Katherine shook her head. “Probably Mrs. Pratt. I learned long ago not to give her gifts.”
“What do you mean?”
Katherine chuckled dryly. “As a girl, I made a little vase for her birthday. My art tutor at the time took it to a potter he knew in Stroud to have it fired in a kiln. I painted it blue, her favorite color. I was so foolishly proud of that little thing. I added a few flowers and gave it to her. She thanked me and set it on her dresser. She was not exactly effusive in her praise—then again, she rarely is—but even so I went away pleased. But two days later I was playing outside and happened to pass the rubbish heap and there it was. Cracked and discarded, waiting with the rest of the worthless trash to be burned. I picked it up and carried it to my room, repaired it as best I could, and tucked it away in the drawer of my bedside table. She never mentioned it again, and neither did I. But every time I open that drawer, I remember. And my heart sinks all over again.”
Katherine glanced at Anne and then away again. “You will think me silly. So many real problems in the world. Children going hungry, men crushed by mill machinery... I have no reason to feel sorry for myself, I know. Self-pity is never attractive.” She uttered another humorless chuckle. “And if you saw that humble little thing, you would no doubt understand why Mamma got rid of it.”
“I would not. And I have seen it. A small blue vase with a repaired crack.”
Katherine gaped up at her. “How could you ... ? Where?”
“It was on your mother’s luncheon tray today with a few flowers and—”
“What?”
She’d been about to saybeesbefore Katherine interrupted her.
Katherine threw down the remaining stakes in her hand and turned. “Come with me.” She stalked up the garden path and across the lawn in long, energetic strides, little resembling the delicate, mincing woman she was reported to be. Anne had to hurry to keep up with her.
Pushing through the side door, Katherine cast her gloves onto the hall table, took hold of her skirts, and started up the stairs. Anne followed.
Reaching her room, Katherine marched straight to the bedside table and pulled open the drawer. Anne hovered near the doorway, unsure she should enter.
“It isn’t here,” Katherine said breathlessly. “Who would take it? And why?”
Why indeed, Anne wondered. “I don’t know. But your mother has it now.”
“Until she discards it again.”
Anne felt for the woman’s bruised daughter-heart and was thankful anew for the kind and affectionate mother who had raised her.
Tentatively, Anne asked, “Do you ... want to ask her about it?”
“Heavens, no.” Katherine drew herself up to her full height. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to finish staking the delphiniums.”
“Y-yes. Of course.” Anne watched her walk away, bewildered by the reactions of mother and daughter both.
That night, something woke Anne yet again. A moan from Lady Celia? She quickly rose and slipped into the adjoining room to investigate.
The fire had gone out, and the shaded lamp as well, and Anne had no ready means to light a candle. She didn’t want to fumble around in the dark for the phosphorus bottle and sulfur matches. Dim moonlight shone through the transom window above the balcony door. She opened the shutters to let in more light. As her eyes adjusted she saw Louie gazing at her from his basket.
Lady Celia moaned again.
Anne stepped to the bed, wondering if the woman was in pain or having another disturbing dream. “My lady? Shh. I’m here.” She gently rubbed her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
The older woman awoke with a gasp. “Oh! Oh, Anne. Thank God.”
“Another bad dream?”
Lady Celia nodded and her whole body shuddered with it. “A nightmare.”
“It’s over now.”
After Anne soothed the woman and offered her a drink of barley water, Lady Celia calmed and lay back against the pillows.
Anne returned to the window, planning to close the shutters. Through the glass, she glimpsed movement below.Someone walking across the moonlit lawn. Anne had heard the clock strike midnight some time ago. Who would be roaming about the grounds at such an hour?
The figure was obscured by the shadows of house and trees but emerged briefly into the open as it moved toward the garden.
