The Rose Garden

From the track his conversation took I gathered he’d concluded that his brother was still off aboard the Sally, which to me made perfect sense. It explained, too, why the constable had seemed so sure that no one would be in the house.

‘And so you’ve been here all this time and on your own?’ He would have answered that himself as well, I think, except he saw my face. He stopped. ‘Have you then had a visitor?’

I nodded, once.

His chair came down, but slowly and controlled, and when he spoke again his voice had changed, no longer lightly teasing but more serious. ‘A welcome one?’

I shook my head, and knew from how his eyes had altered that he didn’t need to be told who, any more than he needed to have anything spelt out for him when I showed him the smashed cabinet lock in the scullery.

He was quick enough putting the pieces together.

‘The constable came on his own? Did he search the whole house? Did he find anything?’

Here, instead of a nod, I was happily able to shake my head ‘no’.

Jack Butler said, ‘That must have spoilt his temper.’ He seemed pleased by that, until another realisation crossed his mind and he looked down at me. ‘Did he then do you harm?’

I shook my head, but he had seen my moment’s hesitation.

‘Are you certain?’ He was looking at me clinically, not trusting what I’d told him, when I saw his face change once again, as though he’d just this minute noticed what gown I was wearing.

Though he obviously recognised it, he did nothing more than raise his gaze to mine a moment before going on without a comment, ‘Good, for Daniel would have gutted him.’

I hadn’t thought of that. I had forgotten that in this age men still felt an obligation to defend a woman’s honour. Having lived so long where men were more likely to push their way past me than open a door for me, I hadn’t even considered the fact that if I had been harmed, Daniel Butler might well have responded with violence. I gave silent thanks that the constable had only struck me with words, not his hands, even though I felt sure that he’d wanted to.

Thinking of it now, I wasn’t certain what had stopped him, since it would have been another way to try provoking Daniel into action, if that had in fact been what he had intended. I remembered how the constable’s dark gaze had raked my gown. It made me wonder if he’d seen a ghost himself when he had looked at me, and she had stayed his hand.

Whatever the reason, I was thankful for it, just as I was glad I’d taken time last night to tidy up the rooms before Jack had a chance to see them, for I knew there was no chance of keeping anything from Daniel if Jack knew it. Fergal might have been exaggerating when he’d said Jack Butler couldn’t keep a secret – after all, a man who made his living smuggling had to keep a secret now and then – but I could understand what Fergal had been getting at. Jack Butler liked to talk.

About himself, mainly, but he was good-natured about it and, in spite of my earlier misgivings, after being alone in the house I found him welcome company. Besides, I felt better with someone around for protection, and I had a feeling Jack Butler was good in a fight. Not as good as his brother, I guessed, because Jack seemed like someone who didn’t have much self-control, but he likely fought dirtier.

Still, he was not without manners. The mutton I’d roasted came out a bit charred, and my barley and carrot broth didn’t have even a bit of the flavour that Fergal’s had had, but Jack ate them without a complaint, and then ate them a second time, cold, for his supper.

It was not until afterwards, when twilight settled outside on the hills and Jack lit the candles on the table and the atmosphere inside the kitchen grew close, that he showed a small flash of his mischievous nature.

‘So, mistress,’ he asked, ‘shall I help you to bed?’

I probably wouldn’t have dignified that with an answer in any event, whether spoken or otherwise, but as it turned out I didn’t have to give him a reply. The answer came out of the dimness behind us, surprising us both.

‘’Tis a kind offer, Jack.’ Daniel Butler had settled himself in the doorway that led to the corridor, arms folded over his chest. ‘But I think that would be my prerogative.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Fergal was having none of it. Shouldering his way past Daniel Butler he said drily, ‘You can both of you behave yourselves, or do you need reminding in the way of it? My sister has the wit to see herself to bed without the aid of either of you.’

I heard Jack say in surprise, ‘Your sister?’ and I was aware that Fergal answered him, but the bulk of my attention was still focused on the tall man in the doorway and the warmth within his eyes.

He looked as pleased to see me there as I was glad to have him back, and if we’d been alone I would have told him so, but I could only let my smile speak for me.

‘… and that will be my only warning to you, so you pay it heed and mind your manners,’ Fergal finished off, to Jack.

‘Would I do otherwise?’ Jack’s voice was mild. He’d turned to look at us. ‘And I do fear you may be warning the wrong Butler in this instance.’

‘Ay, I’ve said the same to him and all,’ said Fergal. He had noticed the remains of what I’d cooked, an eyebrow lifting at the blackened meat. ‘Where did you find this mutton?’

‘I did meet with it upon the road on my way home,’ said Jack, ‘and in so sad a circumstance that pity moved my hand to see it liberated.’