“People do, I’m afraid,” he said gently.“It’s nasty, I know, but I suppose it’s one way to make a living.”
She shuddered again.“That could have been L-L-Louis’s finger bone.”And tears spilled from her eyes.“S-s-sorry,” she began, trying to scrub the tears away, but he just drew her into his arms and held her.“It’s all right,” he murmured.“Let it out.”
His soft words released a torrent of tears.He held her for a long time, until the raw sobs slowed and juddery breaths took their place.Eventually she stepped away.“I’m sorry,” she began again.
“Don’t be.I think you needed it.”He handed her a handkerchief.She took it, wiping her eyes and staring at him as if bemused.After a few minutes, calmer but still a little shaky, she tucked her arm in his and resumed her slow examination of the ground.
“Those horrid men are still hovering, aren't they?”she said.
Marcus glanced back and nodded.“To be fair, the way you’ve been examining the ground, they probably think you’re looking for some kind of souvenir.”
She looked up at him in dismay.“But I’m not!Of course I’m not!”
“What were you looking for then?Wildflowers?”
“No, somewhere to plant these.”She pulled a small bag from the pocket she’d had made in her riding habit and tipped the contents onto her palm.
Marcus frowned.“Acorns?And...bulbs?”
She nodded.“English acorns and bluebells.I was looking for a good place to plant them.Somewhere where they won’t be dug up by farmers—or horrid scavengers.”She continued scanning their surroundings, and explained, “When he was a boy, Louis loved to climb into the biggest of the oak trees at Ferndale.He’d sit there for hours, just thinking and dreaming and listening to the birds chattering.And he used to pick a big bunch of bluebells every spring and give them to my mother.”
She paused and glanced up at Marcus.“That was before I was born, of course.NannyJune told me about it.Mama loved bluebells too.So I want Louis to have a little piece of England, here in this foreign field where he died.”
“I see.It’s a nice idea.”He glanced around.“What about over there, where there seems to be a natural border between fields?Less likely to be ploughed.”
Yes.”She headed over there, then glanced back at the souvenir sellers, who were watching her avidly.“I suppose they’ll imagine I’ve found some horrid souvenir.I don’t want these dug up.”She thought for a minute.“Pretend I am relieving myself, will you?They won’t want to digthatup.”
Her back to the observers, she squatted down, spreading her skirts carefully, and Marcus, quietly amused by her practicality, drew the horses closer and tried to look as if he was protecting his lady’s modesty.
She drew out a small trowel, dug a hole in the ground and placed an acorn in it, then covered it over.Then she made a small ditch and surrounded the acorn with half a dozen bluebell bulbs.She filled in the holes and stood, pressing down the dirt.“We brought water, didn’t we?”she asked.
Marcus pulled a flask of water from his saddle bag and handed it over.
“Now, move out of the way,” she said.“I want them to see this.”She proceeded to wash her hands, being careful to ensure the water fell on the disturbed earth, giving the acorns and bulbs a start in life.
She dried her hands and as she handed the bottle back, gave him a mischievous smile.“They won’t want to disturb that now.”
Twice more she found a place to plant an acorn and some bluebells.
The men were still watching.“They’ll be suspicious now,” Marcus commented.
“No, they’ll think I have a weak English bladder.”
He laughed and she slipped her arm through his, smiling up at him.“Thank you for this.You don’t know how much it means to me.I’ve never had a grave to leave flowers on—Edgar wouldn’t even organize a proper funeral service for him—so planting a tree or two and some bluebells in his memory has been immensely comforting.”
Not to mention the outpouring of grief that had briefly overwhelmed her.He bent, cupped her chin and kissed her.“I’m glad.Now, have you finished here?”
She nodded.“Yes, I’ve done what I came for.”She glanced across to where the men with the gruesome ‘souvenirs’ had approached several other visitors.“I don’t want to spend another minute in this unhappy place.”
“Very well.”He tossed her into her sidesaddle, mounted his horse and side by side they headed south.
