Julie Garwood - For the Roses

She put the basket of gifts on the windowsill and took her seat. Corrie touched her shoulder, then dropped the book she'd been loaned into Mary Rose's lap.

Mary Rose still wasn't certain if Corrie could read or not, but she didn't want to insult the woman by asking her outright.

The basket disappeared from the window. Mary Rose waited a minute, and then said, "There's another book in the basket, Corrie. If you don't want to read it, just hand it back out the window."

Corrie patted her on her shoulder once again. Mary Rose concluded she did know how to read, and wanted to keep the book.

It took her a long while to work up enough courage to tell her friend she was leaving for England.

"Would you like to know how I ended up in Montana Territory?" she began.

She didn't expect an answer, of course, and proceeded to tell her friend all about how her brothers had found her in a basket in New York City. She didn't go into a lot of unnecessary details, and when she started to talk about her father and how she had to go to England to meet him, she began to cry.

While Corrie gently stroked her shoulders, Mary Rose confided all her fears to the woman.

"Why do I feel guilty because I don't feel anything more than compassion for the man? I don't want to go and meet him, but I know I have to, Corrie. I'm being terribly selfish, but I like my life now. I hate having it disrupted. Besides, I already have a family. I don't want a new one. I know it's wrong for me to feel this way, and deep inside, I'm so scared. What if none of them like me? What if I disappoint my father? I don't know how to be a proper English lady. They say my name is really Victoria. I'm not Victoria though, I'm Mary Rose. And how will I ever be able to go on with Harrison? What kind of marriage can we have without trust in one another? Oh, Corrie, I wish I could stay here. I don't want to leave."

Mary Rose continued to weep for several more minutes, and then reached up to wipe the tears away from her face.

Corrie grabbed hold of her hand and held on to it. The comfort the woman was giving her made her weep all the more. She thought about all the terrible pain and anguish Corrie had had to endure and how foolish and inconsequential her own problems were in comparison. Corrie had watched her husband and her son die. And yet she had endured.

"You give me strength, Corrie," she whispered.

It wasn't empty praise, for the longer she thought about the dear woman's suffering, the more her own life was put into perspective. Mary Rose knew she would do what had to be done, and regardless of the outcome, she would also endure.

"I'm very fortunate to have you for a friend, Corrie."

Travis let out a shrill whistle. He was letting Mary Rose know that it was time for them to leave.

"Eleanor and I will go to the Cohens' house in Hammond the day after tomorrow," she told her friend. "They're going to Boston for a family reunion, and we'll travel with them. Mr. Cohen will make certain we get on the right ship to England, and if all my plans go smoothly, I'll be back home before the first winter snow falls.

"Travis is going to bring you supplies while I'm away. I've told you all about my brother, remember? He won't ever come closer than the middle of the clearing," she hurried to add when her friend squeezed her hand tight. "May I call to him now? He'll stand by the trees, so you can get a good look at him. I don't want you to be startled when he comes here, and he promised me he would always call out to you so you can watch him."

Corrie finally relaxed her grip. Mary Rose shouted to her brother. Travis appeared on the far side of the clearing and waved to his sister. The curtain obstructed his view of Corrie, but he noticed Mary Rose was holding her hand.

"Storm's coming, Mary Rose. We ought to leave now," he called out. "Good day to you, Corrie," he added before he turned around and walked away.

Mary Rose finally said her good-bye. She turned and kissed Corrie's hand, and then stood up.

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered. "God and Travis will take good care of you, Corrie. Have faith in both of them."

Mary Rose clutched the book in her arms and slowly walked away. The rush of the rising wind mingled with the call of an impatient cardinal and all but muffled the sound of a woman softly weeping inside the cabin.

January 2, 1870

Dear Mama Rose,

Today I am ten years old. Do you remember Adam wrote to tell you that they found papers in my basket and all my brothers think that because the words written on the top of the page said a baby girl was born on the second day of January, and since I was the only baby girl in the basket, they think it must be me.

I'm very lucky to have such a nice family. Travis is making me a birthday cake for supper, and all my brothers made presents for me. Adam said next year he would make sure they got something store bought for me too. Won't that be nice?

Why do you think my mama and my papa threw me away? I wonder what I did wrong.

Your daughter, Mary Rose

Harrison arrived in London on a Tuesday afternoon but was forced to wait until the following evening to talk to his employer. Lord Elliott was staying at his country estate, a two-hour ride from the city, and wasn't scheduled to return to the city until Wednesday morning.

Harrison dispatched a messenger announcing his return. He asked for a private meeting, for he had a highly personal matter to discuss with him. He deliberately implied it was a legal matter he'd gotten involved in, so that Elliott wouldn't include his personal assistant, George MacPherson.

Murphy, Elliott's butler for as long as Harrison could remember, opened the front door for him. The faithful servant's eyes sparkled with delight at the sight of Harrison.

"It's so good to have you back home with us, mi'lord," Murphy announced.

"It's good to be back," Harrison replied. "How have you and Lord Elliott been getting along?"

"We've missed all the scandals you get into with your criminal cases, mi'lord. We haven't had a good fight since the day you left. Lord Elliott continues to worry me, I'll admit. He's working too hard, and you know how stubborn and unreasonable he can be. He won't slow down, no matter how much I nag him. I fear he'll continue to run until his heart stops beating. You're bound to cheer him up, however. I must say, he's missed you sorely."

"Is he upstairs?"

"Yes, mi'lord, in the library."

"Is he alone?"

"He is, and impatient to see you again. Why don't you run on up?"

Harrison started up the stairs, then stopped. "Murphy, he's going to need some brandy."

"Is the news you bring bad, then?" the butler inquired with a frown.

Harrison smiled. "Quite the opposite. He'll still need a drink of brandy though. Is there a bottle in the library?"

"Yes, mi'lord, but I shall bring up another one to be on the safe side. The two of you can get sotted together."

Harrison laughed. In all his years living with Elliott, he'd never once seen him even remotely tipsy. He couldn't picture him roaring drunk. Elliott was too well bred to ever consider doing anything that would take away his control or his dignity. Getting drunk would have robbed him of both.

He hurried on up the stairs, rounded the corner, and went into the library. Elliott was standing in front of the fireplace. He spotted Harrison and immediately embraced him.

"So you are home at last," he said in greeting. He hugged Harrison, and pounded him on his back with a great deal of affection.

"You're a sight for these old eyes," he whispered. "Sit down now and tell me all about your adventure in America. I want to hear every detail."

Harrison waited until Elliott had taken his seat before he pulled up a chair and sat down. He noticed how tired Elliott looked and was saddened by his observation. The country air hadn't done the elderly man much good, for his complexion was tinged gray, and there were the ever-present dark half-circles under his eyes. Grief had taken its toll on him.

Elliott had never remarried, but the determined ladies in London society still fought for his attention. Not only was he an extremely wealthy man, he was also considered handsome. He had silver-tipped hair, patrician features, and held himself like the statesman he was. Elliott had been born and raised in an affluent family, and his breeding, education and manners were therefore impeccable. Far more important was the fact that Elliott had a good heart. Like his daughter, Harrison thought to himself. She had perhaps inherited her sense of decency from him, and that noble quality had been nurtured by her brothers.

Elliott was also strong-willed. A lesser man would have been destroyed by the horror of having his only child taken away from him, but Elliott fought his desolation in private and presented a brave front to the rest of the world. While he had retired from active participation in government, he continued to work behind the scenes to bring about change. He was as much a champion of the less fortunate as Harrison was and certainly just as dedicated to the belief that all men were entitled to equal representation and equal rights. He wholeheartedly supported Harrison when he took on unpopular causes, such as defending the common man.

" America seems to have agreed with you. Is it the new fashion not to wear a jacket, son?"

Harrison smiled. "None of my jackets fit. I seem to have grown between my shoulders. I'll have to call in a tailor before I go out in public again."

"You do look bigger to me," Elliott said. "But there's something else that's different about you." Elliott continued to stare at Harrison another minute or two, then shook his head. "I'm very happy to have you back where you belong." He gave the admission in a quiet voice. "Now, give me your promise, Harrison. There will be no more hunts. I'll have your word before we discuss your legal problems."

"No more hunts," Harrison agreed.

Elliott nodded with satisfaction. He leaned back in his wing chair, folded one leg over the other, and said, "Now you may begin. Tell me everything. Whatever this legal problem is, we'll work it out together."

"Actually, sir, there aren't any legal problems. I just wanted to make certain we had a private talk. I didn't want your assistant to overhear what I had to say to you."

Elliott raised an eyebrow. "You didn't want George here? Why in heaven's name not? You like MacPherson, don't you? Why, he's been with me for years now, almost as long as you have. Tell me what's bothering you."

"He's going to give you good news, mi'lord."

Murphy made the announcement from the doorway and then came inside with a full bottle of brandy. He placed the liquor on the table and turned to his employer.

"Mi'lord says you'll need a stiff drink when you hear what he has to say," Murphy explained. "Shall I pour for the two of you?"

"If Harrison believes I'll need it, go ahead, Murphy."

Harrison was happy for the interruption. He was suddenly feeling tongue-tied. He didn't think it would be a good idea to simply spring the news on Elliott. The shock might give him heart palpitations, but Harrison couldn't come up with a simple way to ease into the announcement.

Murphy left the library a moment later. Elliott took a sip of his drink and turned to Harrison once again.

"I got married."

Elliott almost dropped his glass. "You what?"

"I got married."

Lord above, why had he started out by telling him that? Harrison was almost as surprised as Elliott appeared to be.

"Good heavens," Elliott whispered. "When did you get married?"

"A couple of weeks ago," Harrison answered. "I didn't mean to start out with my announcement. I have other more important news to tell you. You see, I went to…"

Elliott interrupted him. "Nothing could be more important than hearing you're married, son. I can barely take it in. Am I to assume the young lady you married is from America?"

"Yes, sir, but…"

"What is her name?"

"Mary Rose."

"Mary Rose," Elliott repeated. "Is your bride downstairs? I must confess to being disappointed I wasn't in the church for your wedding. I would have liked to stand by your side when you spoke your vows."

"Actually, sir, we weren't married in a church."