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Mrs. Tanssen smuggled clean blankets and a fresh tick over the course of the first few days, though how she managed without the dowager’s knowledge baffled her. Except for the chair she currently sat in, and a rickety three-legged pedestal table, the chamber was devoid of furnishings.
Gazing out the window, a half-smile tilted the corners of her mouth. She was certain the dowager had no idea how splendid the view was from the tower. It was a perfect setting for drawing and painting—if Vangie had the desire.
She didn’t.
Scanning the formal gardens and mazes below, she settled on her favorite scene—a pond on the other side of a large expanse of grass glistened happily in the morning sun. Black and white swans swam leisurely across the blue-green surface. A listing footbridge hugged the east side of the pond where it joined a meandering path to a glorious wisteria covered arbor. Everything was overgrown and neglected, but the underlying beauty of Somersfield’s grounds remained undeniable.
Nestled in a glen on the other side of the pond, barely visible through the trees, sat a stately stone cottage. The dower house, she presumed.
Somewhere beyond her view lay the Romani camp. She hadn’t remembered the note Milosh handed her in Brunswick until her eighth day of imprisonment. Retrieving her reticule, Vangie had dumped the contents on the table. Unfolding the note, she recognized her grandmother’s familiar writing. The Roma were encamped in a meadow under a maple grove near the Ouseburn River.
Oh, how she missed Grandmother.
A week ago, Jasper had brazenly dared to seek a few moments with Vangie after her grandmother had called at Somersfield. Puri Daj had visited the Caruthers and learned of her marriage.
The dowager had refused to receive Puri Daj, going as far as to instruct him to forbid her access to Somersfield lands. The dowager had even threatened Grandmother with arrest for trespassing if she dared to attempt to contact Vangie again.
Jasper, bless his heart, had endeavored to reassure her. “I promised Madam Caruthers I would personally see to your well-being as much as I am able to.” He withdrew an apple and a scone from inside his coat. Standing a mite taller he’d said, “I would consider it an honor to carry missives between the two of you.”
Vangie sighed, closing weary eyes, gritty from lack of sleep. How she wished to explore Somersfield’s lovely acreage and to visit her Romani relatives. Grandmother anxiously waited for word from her, and Besnik, a dear Romani friend, covertly watched the estate, lest Vangie attempt to communicate with her Roma vitsa, her kin.
How long did Ian and his stepmother plan to keep her imprisoned?
