The Forgotten Garden Part 41

Ruby was propped up on one arm, tapping her shoulder. "Are you all right? You were groaning."

"I'm fine." Ca.s.sandra sat up suddenly. Felt her stomach. "Oh, my G.o.d. I had the strangest dream. I was pregnant, very pregnant. My stomach was huge and tight, and everything was so vivid." She rubbed her eyes. "I was in the walled garden and the baby started to kick."

"It's all that talk earlier, of Mary's baby, and Rose, and golden eggs, all getting mixed up together."

"Not to mention the wine." Ca.s.sandra yawned. "But it was so real, it felt exactly like the real thing. I was so uncomfortable, and hot, and when the baby kicked it was so painful."

"You paint a lovely picture of pregnancy," said Ruby. "You're making me glad I never tried it."

Ca.s.sandra smiled. "It's not much fun in the final months, but it's worth it in the end. That moment when you finally hold a tiny new life in your arms."

Nick had cried in the delivery room, but Ca.s.sandra hadn't. She'd been too present, too much a part of the powerful moment, to react in such a way. To cry would have necessitated a second level of feeling, an ability to step outside events and view them within a larger context. Ca.s.sandra's experience had been too immediate for that. She'd felt fired from within by a sort of dizzy jubilation. As if she could hear better, see better, than she ever had before. Could hear her own pulse pumping, the lights humming above, her new baby's breaths.

"Actually, I was was pregnant once," said Ruby. "But only for about five minutes." pregnant once," said Ruby. "But only for about five minutes."

"Oh, Ruby." Ca.s.sandra was awash with sympathy. "You lost the baby?"

"In a manner of speaking. I was young, it was a mistake, he and I agreed it was stupid to go through with it. I figured there was plenty of time later for all that." She lifted her shoulders, then smoothed her sleeping bag across her legs. "Only problem was, by the time I was ready I no longer had the necessary ingredients at my disposal."

Ca.s.sandra leaned her head to the side.

"Sperm, m'dear. I don't know whether I spent my entire thirties with PMS, but for whatever reason the greater population of menfolk and I failed to see eye to eye. By the time I met a bloke I could live with, the baby s.h.i.+p had sailed. We tried for a while but"-she shrugged-"well, you can't fight nature."

"I'm sorry, Ruby."

"Don't be. I'm doing all right. I have a job I love, good friends." She winked. "And come on, you've seen my flat. I'm onto a winner there. No room to swing a cat, but hey-I haven't got a cat to swing."

Ca.s.sandra smiled.

"You make a life out of what you have, not what you're missing." Ruby lay down again and snuggled into her sleeping bag. She pulled it up around her shoulders. "Nightie-night."

Ca.s.sandra continued to sit for a while, watching shadows dance along the walls as she thought about what Ruby had said. About the life that she, Ca.s.sandra, had built out of the things, the people, she was missing. Was that what Nell had done, too? Forsaken the life and the family she'd been given, to focus instead on the one she'd been without? Ca.s.sandra lay down and closed her eyes. Let the nighttime sounds drown out her disquieting thoughts. The sea breathing, waves cras.h.i.+ng against the great black rock, treetops shus.h.i.+ng in the wind...

The cottage was a lonely place, isolated by day but even more so once darkness fell. The road didn't extend all the way up the cliff, the entrance to the hidden garden had been closed off and beyond it lay a maze whose route was difficult to follow. It was the sort of place one might live in and never see another soul.

A sudden thought and Ca.s.sandra gasped. Sat upright. "Ruby," she said, then louder, "Ruby."

"Asleep," came the slurred response.

"But I just figured it out."

"Still asleep."

"I know why they built the wall, why Eliza went away. That's why I had the dream-my unconscious figured it out and was trying to let me know."

A sigh. Ruby rolled over and propped herself on a bent arm. "You win, I'm awake. Just."

"This is where Mary stayed when she was pregnant with Ivory, with Nell. Here, in the cottage. That's why William didn't know she was pregnant." Ca.s.sandra leaned closer to Ruby. "That's why Eliza went away: Mary was here instead. They kept her hidden in the cottage, built the wall so that no one would accidentally catch sight of her."

Ruby rubbed her eyes and sat up.

"They turned this cottage into a cage until the baby was born and Rose was made a mother."

FORTY-FOUR.

TREGENNA, 1975.

THE afternoon before she was due to leave Tregenna, Nell went a last time to Cliff Cottage. She took the white suitcase with her, filled with the doc.u.ments and research she'd collected during her visit. She wanted to look over her notes and the cottage seemed as good a place as any in which to do so. At least that's what she'd told herself when she'd decided to make her way up the steep cliff road. It wasn't true, of course, not completely. For although she had wanted to look over the notes, that wasn't why she'd come to the cottage. She'd come simply because she couldn't stay away. afternoon before she was due to leave Tregenna, Nell went a last time to Cliff Cottage. She took the white suitcase with her, filled with the doc.u.ments and research she'd collected during her visit. She wanted to look over her notes and the cottage seemed as good a place as any in which to do so. At least that's what she'd told herself when she'd decided to make her way up the steep cliff road. It wasn't true, of course, not completely. For although she had wanted to look over the notes, that wasn't why she'd come to the cottage. She'd come simply because she couldn't stay away.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Winter was approaching and the cottage was cool: stale air sat thick and heavy in the hallway. Nell took the suitcase upstairs to the bedroom. It pleased her to look out over the silver sea, and on her last visit she'd spied a little bentwood chair in the corner of the room that would serve her purposes very well. The cane had unraveled from the back but that was no impediment. Nell positioned the chair by the window, sat tentatively and opened the white suitcase.

She leafed through the papers inside: Robyn's notes on the Mountrachet family, the contact details of the detective she'd hired to look into Eliza's whereabouts, searches and correspondence from the local lawyers about her purchase of Cliff Cottage. Nell found the letter relating to the property boundaries and flipped it over to study the surveyor's map. She could see quite clearly now the area young Christian had told her was a garden. She wondered who on earth had bricked up the gate, and why.

As she pondered, the paper slipped from Nell's hand and fluttered to the ground. She reached down to pick it up and something caught her eye. Damp weather had buckled the baseboard, pulled it loose from the wall. A piece of paper was wedged behind. Nell caught the corner between her fingers and retrieved it.

A small piece of card, spotted with foxing, on which a woman's face had been drawn, framed by an arch of brambles. Nell recognized her from the portrait she'd seen in the gallery in London. It was Eliza Makepeace, but there was something different about this sketch. Unlike the Nathaniel Walker portrait in London that made her look untouchable, this one was somehow more intimate. Something in the eyes suggested that this artist had been better acquainted with Eliza than had Nathaniel. Bold lines, certain curves, and the expression: something in her eyes both compelled Nell and confronted her.

Nell smoothed over the top of the card. To think it had been lying there in wait for so long. She pulled the book of fairy tales from the suitcase. She hadn't been precisely sure why she'd brought it with her to the cottage, only that there seemed a pleasant symmetry in bringing the stories home, back to the very place in which Eliza Makepeace had written them. Undoubtedly silly, embarra.s.singly sentimental, but there you are. Now Nell was glad she had. She opened the cover and slipped the sketch inside. That would keep it safe.

She leaned back against the chair and ran her fingers over the book's cover, the smooth leather and raised center panel with its ill.u.s.tration of a maiden and a fawn. It was a beautiful book, as beautiful as any that had pa.s.sed through Nell's antiques shop. And it was so well preserved, decades spent in Hugh's care had done it no harm.

Though it was earlier times she sought to recall, Nell found her mind returning over and again to Hugh. In particular, the nights he'd read her bedtime stories from the fairy-tale book. Lil had been concerned, worried they might be too scary for a little girl, but Hugh had understood. In the evenings, after dinner, when Lil was clearing the day away, he would collapse back into his wicker chair and Nell would curl up in his lap. The pleasant weight of his arms wrapped around her to grasp the edges of the book, the faint smell of tobacco on his s.h.i.+rt, the rough whiskers on his warm cheek catching her hair.

Nell sighed steadily. Hugh had done well by her, he and Lil both. All the same, she blanked them out and willed her mind back further. For there was a time before Hugh, a time before the boat trip to Maryborough, the time of Blackhurst and the cottage and the Auth.o.r.ess.

There-a white cane garden chair, sun, b.u.t.terflies. Nell closed her eyes and clutched the memory's tail, let it drag her into a warm summer's day, a garden where shade spilled cool across a sprawling lawn. Air filled with the scent of sunbaked flowers...

THE LITTLE girl was pretending to be a b.u.t.terfly. A woven wreath of flowers encircled her head and she was holding her arms out to the sides, running in circles, fluttering and swooping while the sunlight warmed her wings. She felt so grand as the sun turned the white cotton of her dress to silver. girl was pretending to be a b.u.t.terfly. A woven wreath of flowers encircled her head and she was holding her arms out to the sides, running in circles, fluttering and swooping while the sunlight warmed her wings. She felt so grand as the sun turned the white cotton of her dress to silver.

"Ivory."

At first the little girl did not hear, for b.u.t.terflies do not speak the languages of men. They sing in sweetest tone with words so beautiful grown-up ears cannot hear them. Only children notice when they call.

"Ivory, come quickly."

There was a sternness to Mamma's voice now, so the little girl swooped and fluttered in the direction of the white garden chair.

"Come, come," said Mamma, reaching out her arms, beckoning with the pale tips of her fingers.

With a warm happiness spreading beneath her skin, the little girl climbed up. Mamma wrapped her arms around the little girl's waist and pressed cool lips against the skin beneath her ear.

"I'm a b.u.t.terfly," the little girl said, "this chair is my coc.o.o.n-"

"Shhh. Quiet, now." Mamma's face was still pressed close and the little girl realized she was looking at something beyond. The little girl turned to see what it was that held Mamma's attention so.

A lady was coming towards them. The little girl squinted into the sun to make some sense of this mirage. For this lady was different from the others who came to visit Mamma and Grandmamma, the ones who stayed for tea and games of bridge. This lady looked somehow like a girl stretched to grown-up height. She wore a dress of white cotton and her red hair was only loosely tied in place.

The little girl looked about for the carriage that must have brought the lady up the drive, but there was none. It seemed that she had materialized from thin air, as if by magic.

Then the little girl realized. She caught her breath, filled with wonder. The lady was not walking from the direction of the entrance, she had come from inside the maze.

The little girl was forbidden to enter the maze. It was one of the first and sternest rules; both Mamma and Grandmamma were always reminding her that the way was dark and filled with untold dangers. So serious was the decree that even Papa, who could usually be relied upon, dared not disobey.

The lady was still hurrying directly towards them, half walking, half skipping. She had something with her, a brown-paper parcel, under her arm.

Mamma's own arms tightened around the little girl's middle so that pleasure slipped towards discomfort.

The lady stopped before them.

"h.e.l.lo, Rose."

The little girl knew this was Mamma's name and yet Mamma said nothing in return.

"I know I'm not supposed to come." A silvery voice, like a spider's thread, which the little girl would have liked to hold between her fingers.

"Then why have you?"

The lady held out her parcel, but Mamma did not take it. Her grip tightened again. "I want nothing from you."

"I don't bring it for you." The lady put the parcel on the seat. "It is for your little girl."

THE PARCEL had contained the book of fairy tales, Nell remembered that now. There had been a discussion later, between her mother and father: she had insisted on the book's banishment, and he had eventually agreed. Only he hadn't thrown it away. He had put it in his studio, next to the battered copy of had contained the book of fairy tales, Nell remembered that now. There had been a discussion later, between her mother and father: she had insisted on the book's banishment, and he had eventually agreed. Only he hadn't thrown it away. He had put it in his studio, next to the battered copy of Moby-d.i.c.k Moby-d.i.c.k. And he had read it to Nell, when she sat with him, when her mother was ill and unaware.

Thrilled by the memory, Nell stroked the front cover again. The book had been a gift from Eliza. She opened it carefully to the place where the ribbon bookmark had lain for sixty years. It was deep plum, only slightly frayed where the weave had begun to unravel, and it marked the beginning of a story called "The Crone's Eyes." Nell began to read about the young princess who didn't know she was a princess, who journeyed across the sea to the land of lost things to bring back the crone's missing sight. It was distantly familiar, as a favored tale from childhood ought to be. Nell placed the bookmark in its new spot and closed the book, laid it back on the windowsill.

She frowned and leaned closer. There was still a gap in the spine where the ribbon had been.

Nell opened the book again; the pages fell automatically once more to "The Crone's Eyes." She ran her finger down the inside of the spine- There were pages missing. Not many, only five or six, barely noticeable, but missing all the same.

The excision was neat. No rough edges, tight up against the binding. Done with a penknife, perhaps?

Nell checked the page numbers. They jumped from fifty-four to sixty-one.

The gap fell perfectly between two stories...

The Golden Egg by Eliza Makepeace A long time ago, when seeking was finding, there lived a young maiden in a tiny cottage on the edge of a large and prosperous kingdom. The maiden had few means and her cottage was hidden so deeply within the dark woods as to be obscured from common view. There had been those, long ago, who knew of the little cottage with its stone fireplace, but such folk had long since pa.s.sed and Mother Time had drawn a veil of forget around the cottage. Aside from the birds who came to sing on her windowsill, and the woodland animals who came in search of her warm hearth, the maiden was alone. Yet was she never lonely or unhappy, for the maiden of the cottage was too busy to pine for company she'd never had. long time ago, when seeking was finding, there lived a young maiden in a tiny cottage on the edge of a large and prosperous kingdom. The maiden had few means and her cottage was hidden so deeply within the dark woods as to be obscured from common view. There had been those, long ago, who knew of the little cottage with its stone fireplace, but such folk had long since pa.s.sed and Mother Time had drawn a veil of forget around the cottage. Aside from the birds who came to sing on her windowsill, and the woodland animals who came in search of her warm hearth, the maiden was alone. Yet was she never lonely or unhappy, for the maiden of the cottage was too busy to pine for company she'd never had.

Deep within the heart of the cottage, behind a special door with a s.h.i.+ny lock, there was a very precious object. A Golden Egg whose glow was said to be so brilliant, so beautiful, that those whose eyes lit upon it were rendered instantly blind. The Golden Egg was so old that no one could properly remember its age, and for countless generations the maiden's family had been charged with its protection.

The maiden did not question this responsibility, for she knew it to be her destiny. The egg must be kept safe and well and hidden. Most importantly, the egg's existence must be kept secret. Many years before, when the kingdom was new, great wars had erupted over the Golden Egg, for legend told that it had magical powers and could grant its possessor his heart's desire.

So it was the maiden kept her vigil. By day she sat at her little spinning wheel in the cottage window, singing happily with the birds who gathered to watch her work. By night she offered shelter to her animal friends and slept in the warmth of the cottage, heated from within by the glow of the Golden Egg. And she remembered always that there was naught more important than protecting one's birthright.

Meanwhile, far away across the land, in the kingdom's grand castle, there lived a young Princess who was good and fair but very unhappy. Her health was poor and no matter that her mother, the Queen, had scoured the land for magic or medicine, nothing could be found to make the Princess well. There were those who whispered that when she was but a babe a wicked apothecary had cursed her to eternal ill health, but no one dared utter such sentiment aloud. For the Queen was a cruel ruler whose wrath her subjects wisely feared.

The Queen's daughter, however, was the apple of her mother's eye. Each morning the Queen paid a visit to her bedside, but alas, each morning the Princess was the same: pale, weak and weary. "It is all I wish, Mother," she would whisper, "the strength to walk through the castle gardens, to dance at the castle b.a.l.l.s, to swim in the castle waters. To be well is my heart's desire."

The Queen had a magic looking gla.s.s from which she gleaned the comings and goings of the kingdom, and day after day she asked, "Mirror of mine, favored friend, show me the healer who will bring this horror's end."

But each day the mirror gave the same answer: "There is no one, my Queen, in all the land, who can make her well by his healing hand."

Now one day it happened that the Queen was so upset by her daughter's condition that she forgot to ask the looking gla.s.s her usual question. Instead she began to sob, crying, "Mirror of mine, that I so admire, show me how to grant my daughter's heart's desire."

The mirror was silent for a moment, but within its gla.s.sy center an image began to form, a tiny cottage in the middle of a deep, dark wood, smoke pluming from a little stone chimney. Inside the window sat a young maiden, spinning at a wheel and singing with the birds on the sill.

"What is this you show me?" gasped the Queen. "Is this young woman a healer?"

The mirror's voice was low and somber: "In the dark woods on the kingdom's edge lies a cottage. Inside is a Golden Egg with the power to grant its holders their heart's desire. The maiden you see is the guardian of the Golden Egg."

"How will I get the egg from her?" said the Queen.

"She does what she does for the kingdom's good," said the mirror, "and will not easily consent."

"Then what must I do?"

But the magic looking gla.s.s had no more answers, and the image of the cottage faded so that only gla.s.s remained. The Queen lifted her chin and stared down her long nose, holding her own gaze until a slight smile formed on her lips.

Early the next morning, the Queen summoned the Princess's closest handmaiden. A girl who had lived in the kingdom all her life, and who the Queen knew could be counted on to perform whatever task was necessary in order to ensure the Princess's health and happiness. The Queen instructed the handmaiden to retrieve the Golden Egg.

The handmaiden set off across the kingdom in the direction of the dark woods. For three days and nights she walked east and, as dusk was falling on the third night, she came to the edge of the woods. She stepped over fallen branches and cleared a path through foliage, until finally, standing in a clearing before her, was a tiny cottage with sweetly scented smoke pluming from its chimney.

The handmaiden knocked on the door and waited. When it opened, a young maiden stood on the other side and, although she was surprised to see a visitor on her doorstep, a generous smile spread across her face. She stepped aside and welcomed the handmaiden across the threshold. "You are tired," said the maiden. "You have journeyed far. Come and warm yourself by my hearth."

The handmaiden followed the maiden inside and sat on a cus.h.i.+on by the fire. The maiden of the cottage brought a bowl of warm broth and sat quietly weaving while her guest ate. The fire crackled in the grate and the warmth in the room made the handmaiden very drowsy. Her desire to slumber was so strong that she would have forgotten her mission had the maiden of the cottage not said, "You are very welcome here, stranger, but you must forgive me for asking whether there is a purpose to your visit."

"I have been sent by the Queen of the land," said the handmaiden. "She seeks your a.s.sistance in healing her daughter's ill health."

The birds of the forest sometimes sang of goings-on within the kingdom, thus had the maiden heard tell of the fair and kind Princess who lived inside the castle walls. "I will do what I can," said the maiden, "though I cannot think why the Queen has sent for me, as I know not how to heal."

"The Queen has sent me to seek something that you harbor," said the handmaiden. "An object with the power to grant its bearer her heart's desire."

The maiden understood then that it was the Golden Egg of which the handmaiden spoke. She shook her head sadly. "I would do anything to help the Princess, except that which you ask. Protecting the Golden Egg is my birthright, and there is naught more important than that. You may stay here tonight and shelter from the cold and lonely woods, but tomorrow you must return to the kingdom and tell the Queen that I cannot relinquish the Golden Egg."