Caroline awoke sore from sleeping in a strange bed. She glanced at the small clock atop the bureau. The hour was still early. Her sister was likely still asleep. Caroline would normally be asleep at this hour too, but she tossed and turned, unable to fall back asleep.
I suppose a walk could do me some good.
Rising, she summoned her maid, who dressed her in one of her favorite morning gowns, a butter yellow with green ribbons that she had copied from an issue ofLa Belle Assemblée.It had a matching cap which tied snugly over her hair and would prevent the wind from destroying her coif. She wrapped a lace shawl over the gown and tied it with the sash so that it too would not blow away in the wind. Then she set off.
As she suspected, the rest of her family were still asleep. She declined her maid’s offer to accompany her.There is no need for a chaperone at this hour. Besides, I will only be promenading on the grounds.
She had spied the gardens the day before and thought they would be the perfect place to begin her self-guided tour of her new surroundings. The path from the house led directly to a magnificent walled garden. Perfectly sculpted geometric shapes glistened in the morning dew. Beds of brightly-colored crocuses, daffodils, and hyacinths brightened the lush greenery leading to a circular parterre with a statue in the center. Caroline chose the path to the right of the parterre which led to a shaded grove of manicured lime trees. The path dead-ended at a small reflecting pool guarded by cylindrical shrubs spaced evenly around it. She turned and took the other pathway, which led her to the kitchen gardens where several gardeners were already hard at work weeding a vegetable patch near a large, glass conservatory. She was about to return to the house when she spied a small gate at the far corner of the garden. Curious, Caroline decided to investigate.
The gate, covered with ivy, looked like the doorway to a fairy kingdom. She opened it, and found herself in a charming rock garden. Here the pathway rambled amidst scattered boulders and smaller rocks of various colors and sizes. Flowers dotted the scene, poking out from the rocks almost as if they had no business being there at all. Where order and perfection ruled the walled garden, here, everything seemed wild and unplanned. Caroline felt drawn to continue, as if some mystical force were pulling her further in. She heard the call of seagulls hunting for their breakfast and the faint sound of the ocean lapping at the shore. The rock garden had no fence at the border of it, instead blending straight into the short, coastal grasses and shrubs which gradually sloped towards the sea. One could hardly tell where the garden ended and the wild plants began. As she wandered towards the sound of the sea, suddenly, the water came into view and the sunrise with it, lifting slowly over the horizon.
Caroline found her breath suddenly taken away at the splendor before her. The cultivated elegance of the gardens behind her could not compare with the natural glories on display here. Vibrant pinks, purples, oranges and blues lit up the sky, reflected on the water below. The same force led her to climb the rocky path down the cliffs to the sand.
The beach was deserted. Caroline thought for a moment of the dangers of walking alone on the shore, and contemplated whether she ought to turn back. But the sea looked so calm and beautiful and the sandy path beneath the cliffs so inviting, she decided there couldn’t be any harm in walking a short distance. Besides, she was sure to return long before anyone could miss her.
The sea reminded her again of her childhood in Blackpool, before the days of lessons and lectures on the art of refinement at the seminary. Before the days of being restricted to “feminine” pursuits: perfecting and displaying her accomplishments in music, drawing, singing, needlework, and the like. Before it became her singular goal to secure a husband and a good future.
Back then, she lived without a care in the world. Free to run and play. Free to enjoy nature. Free to be whomever she wanted, instead of the carefully molded creature who fit into society’s picture of a lady and who could attract the sort of gentleman her mother, and later her sister, expected her to marry.
A crab poked his head from a hole and scuttled along. Caroline followed it, watching as it ducked down into another hole, then reappeared with a second crab. A gull swooped down and began chasing them. The pair of crabs continued running from the gull, while Caroline followed with interest, until at last, they turned and darted into the water and the gull flew off in search of other prey. The strip of smooth, sandy beach gradually gave way to a more rocky, rugged shoreline. Caroline continued on, lost in her thoughts, enjoying the sea breeze and the sounds around her, not noticing the waves gradually creeping closer to her as the sea cliff loomed to her right. Suddenly, she felt water splash her ankles and looked down. The tide was coming in! She looked back the way she had come. The water was already at the cliffs. There was no way to return. Ahead, a short stretch of beach remained, leading up to another sloping path and a man-made staircase cut into the cliff.
Caroline picked up her skirts and hurried as the incoming waves splashed her gown and soaked her boots. She climbed the slope, which was more difficult than it had been going down, but she kept climbing until she reached high ground. The land at the top of these cliffs was rocky and grassy and uneven. A high stone wall that reminded her of a fortress ran the length of the ridge. As she approached the wall a tall castle-like dwelling came into view, and Caroline realized where she was.
I have wandered all the way to Raven’s Cliff.
The castle looked different from this angle than it had from the lane, more imposing, and far older.
It is as if I have stepped into a medieval kingdom.
By luck, or perhaps by design, the gate had been left open. Caroline entered, and found herself in a terraced garden. The garden was in a state of serious neglect, as if the owners had not cared for it in a long time. Climbing past the brambles and overgrowth, Caroline soon found herself in a wide orchard. Knowing the sea was to her right, the way to Fairclough must be ahead somewhere. If she could only reach the lane, she could find her way back. She turned in what she thought must be the direction of the lane. Her soggy boots squished as she walked and the hem of her dress felt heavy with surf and sand. She grumbled aloud at having her favorite dress in such a state. A memory rolled past her mind of Elizabeth Bennet appearing in a similar state at Netherfield Park on a muddy day and Louisa’s remark about it.
I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain.And her hair- so blousy!Caroline had laughed with her sister over Elizabeth’s unfortunate appearance at the time. Now, she wondered whether she would become the object of similar scorn. The trees of the orchard were overgrown. They snagged at her lace shawl, and at one point, her cap became caught on a branch, and she had to untie it in order to free herself. Her hair came loose in the process, several red curls dangling down her back and blowing freely in the wind.
Walking for miles and getting one’s attire ruined. This is the sort of thing Elizabeth Bennet would do, not you!She scolded herself. She had not meant to walk so far. She should have remained in the gardens at Fairclough and not gone down to the sea. What would Louisa say when she returned?
So distracted by these thoughts, she did not notice when she passed by a man on a ladder.
“I say there, what are you doing here?” his voice called out.
Chapter 3
The sun was still low when Theo began work on the pear orchard. He knew that his two under gardeners ought to be doing this sort of thing, but as usual, they were slacking off, nowhere to be seen on the grounds, and he had no inclination to bang on their cottage doors and wake them. He meant to replace Bill and Jack soon, and hire additional men to assist Mr. Hodge with the restorations to the grounds. He had plans to design a country garden like those he had seen in Ireland, and to add a water feature. Additionally, he hoped to manage the orchard and harvest a good crop this year. Too long had it lain overgrown, bearing almost no fruit, and what little fruit it bore left to rot on the trees. With proper care, he knew he could make it beautiful and fruitful again. This was the first order of business, to ready the trees for a summer harvest before they blossomed.
Theo was up on a ladder, pruning a pear tree, when he spotted a glimpse of yellow coming towards him. The lady seemed exhausted and wet.
Did she come from the beach?
He had already been down to the beach earlier that morning, and knew it must be about high tide by now. He wondered what a lady might be doing all alone on such a morning, and where she could have come from. She did not seem to notice him as she pecked her way through the rows of pear trees, trying to avoid being scratched. He watched her remove her cap in frustration after it got caught on a particularly long branch. A tumble of red curls fell out of her coif. Theo felt his breath hitch.
Miss Bingley!At least, he presumed her to be Miss Bingley. He supposed it could be her sister, or perhaps even her maid- which might account for her state of dress- but it was clearly the redheaded woman he had seen in the carriage the day before. As she passed by his ladder, he called out. “I say there, what are you doing here?”
Startled, the woman looked around, then up into the tree, where she finally spotted him.
“Sir! You gave me a fright. What do you mean by hiding up in that tree?”
“I am pruning it. But you have yet to answer my question. Why are you trespassing?”
She pushed her shoulders back and stuck her chin out indignantly. “I am merely passing through. I was walking along the beach, but got caught by the tide, and so was forced to seek higher ground for my safety. I had no choice but to trespass. I am sure that your master would not deny a lady safe passage through his land in such an instance.”
