Page 43 of Bluebell’s Fate

“Why not? She was lying to herself. Besides…now, she’ll never trust you.” Edwin squatted down and pushed Nathaniel onto his side.

Trust was one of those five-letter words.

“She’ll be fine tomorrow. You just made her upset.” Nathaniel struggled to his feet.

“I didn’t just make her upset—I made her upset at you. There’s a big difference. You’ll see; she won’t be your friend anymore.” He walked away with a swagger a ten-year-old shouldn’t possess.

But the damage had been done. Edwin had planted the seed of doubt into Mary’s mind. The next time she came over to play, it was with Edwin. Nathaniel had lost his closest friend due to his brother’s manipulations.

Nathaniel had promised himself then that he would never be like Edwin. He would never use a person’s emotions to get what he wanted, and he didn’t want to allow someone an opportunity to hurt him by forming an emotional attachment to them. He’d practiced letting go of his emotions so that Edwin couldn’t hurt him anymore—and it had worked, mostly.

It had been a long time since Nathaniel’s emotions had gotten away from him. And now that they were tangled up in his new wife, Nathaniel feared it would only lead to heartache. She was easier to love than Edwin—more pure, and thus, more dangerous to allow close to his heart. He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes, hoping that the answers would come, but when he opened them again, all he saw was a very blue room.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Bell felt the stirrings of magic prick her heart, a feeling of opportunity that spurred her to acquire a spade and some pots from the gardener. She walked out past the kitchen garden and through the tree line to the place where she’d cut some flowers, put down her supplies, and walked a large circle around the area. It made sense now why she’d felt like someone had been here. It had been Nathaniel and the architect.

She tried to imagine the space surrounded by a cage of glass. There was an orangery at Gardner Manor, but Bell hadn’t ever felt drawn to it.

In all honesty she hardly ever thought of Gardner Manor at all. Cairnsby Cottage felt far more like her home. The realization made her throat tight. Maybe the fairies knew what they were doing all along—sending her here.

Bell dug up and repotted a few different varieties of flowers, curious to see how wildflowers behaved when they were confined. She imagined the fairies wouldn’t take well to being shut indoors if they chose to inhabit these particular flowers. One could look at it and see either a trap or a home. Bell couldn’t help but see it as a trap. To trap a fairy would likely bring its wrath upon her, to say nothing of how it could upset her marriage. Bell was just beginning to believe that she’d finally escaped the worst of the fairies’ machinations.

While it was endearing and thoughtful of Nathaniel to try to give her a space to escape to during the winter months, it really wasn’t necessary. Even in the cold, Bell had always explored the woods. The fairies were just as active even when the foliage had gone to sleep. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t about the fairies or lack thereof; it was about her. She loved being outside. She loved her woods, and she missed them terribly. Spring had always been her favorite season; seeing the world wake up from its winter slumber was incredibly exciting. However, would she enjoy spring so thoroughly if she didn’t have winter? The question bounced around in her mind as she took the potted plants up to her bed chamber and set them in the windowsill. The plants would get light in the afternoon through her west-facing window, the same direction as the window in the blue room.

Constructing a glass building couldn’t possibly be an inexpensive endeavor. Although Bell still wasn’t aware of her current financial status, she was bright enough to know that the building would be an exorbitant gift. Nathaniel didn’t seem like the type of person to make such rash decisions. Yes, he’d said it was a surprise. But would she hurt his feelings if she declined?

Building a conservatory just didn’t seem necessary.

Bell made certain her drawing tools were in her leather satchel before she slung it over her shoulder, then took a walk around the outside of the house. She sat down under the large ash tree and laid her head against its trunk. Being this close to an ash tree made her miss her brother something fierce. He would be fine without her: people always were. But that didn’t fill the hole inside her heart for missing him. He was always a good listener, even when Bell needed to talk in stories to get her frustrations or thoughts out to someone. It was amazing how children could understand a problem when presented as a story. Ash had always understood her stories, even from the time he was an infant. When Bell was twelve years old, her life had been altered drastically by the arrival of a baby boy.

At first, her new brother was a welcome change for Bell. Her mother—in need of recovery—gave Rose, Bell, and Lavender more free time than they’d ever been gifted. After a couple months though, Ash decided that he would make his presence known in the form of continual crying. And yet, the Countess Gardner refused to send him away with the nurse unless there was company. What was more, she insisted that the girls all stay and admire their little brother—their family heir and their saving grace. Bell didn’t understand how the screaming infant was their saving grace. He seemed much more like their impending doom. She even wondered if she had made some terrible misstep amongst the fairies to deserve this?

On a particularly loud day, her mother stood and rocked Ash, cooing to him and making sure he was wrapped tightly. All three of the girls sat side by side on the settee waiting for their turn to hold the baby. Rose went first. She always came first. The wailing did not subside, but Rose diligently did her best to soothe the child.

Then, her mother transferred Ash to Bell. He looked up at her through teary eyes, and Bell instantly wanted to make him happy—to stop the tears from falling and help the screaming to subside. “Did you know, Ash, that I went walking in my woods just yesterday? The bluebells are preparing to bloom, and the ground is soft enough for their stems to poke through the dirt. And when the bluebells bloom, so do the magic fairies.” Her brother’s screams silenced. His eyes, as big and wide as a full moon, peered back at her. He was a beautiful baby when he wasn’t crying.

As soon as the countess took him from Bell’s arms to give Lavender a turn holding him, the crying started again. Lavender, young as she was and unpracticed in the art of baby-holding, only lasted a minute before she looked at Bell with a pleading for help in her eyes.

Bell needed no more prompting. “May I have another turn holding him, mother?”

“Of course.” She gently set Ash into her arms, and he instantly quieted.

Bell’s young heart seemed to expand into her lungs, restricting her ability to breathe. There was something magical about this connection to her baby brother. She stroked his soft cheek, and he grabbed hold of her finger, effectively sealing her adoration and love for him. He liked her, perhaps he even loved her. She kissed the top of his head.

“I think he wants to hear about the fairies.” Bell looked at her mother for permission.

The countess was disheveled and obviously exhausted. If not for that, Bell would have guessed that the idea of filling the young lord’s mind with talk of fairies would have been forbidden. As it was, her mother simply nodded her head in consent and told the girls she was going to lie down for a nap. With Bell’s reputation for being absentminded, she was shocked that her mother agreed to leave Ash with her, but the mere idea of forgetting Ash was impossible.

Needing no more encouragement than that, Bell set off telling her baby brother all the rules of the woods, how the bluebells were not to be picked or trodden on or the dark magic would be set upon him. There was one instance when picking bluebells was to be permitted, however. If one needed to be certain a person was telling the truth, you could pick some bluebells to create a crown. When a person was wearing the crown of flowers, they could not tell a falsehood.

On and on she spoke to the baby, until he fell asleep in her arms. Since then, Bell had been the one person for whom Ash never cried. He loved to hear her stories and the sound of her animated voice.

It was also a turning point for Bell, little did she know it at the time. Her mother came to rely on her to keep her brother happy—for nothing mattered so much in the Gardner home as the happiness of the future Earl Gardner. It just so happened that since Bell made him happy, she also gained favor in the eyes of her parents. She was given liberties that Rose was denied. For a long time, Bell was so happy to be given the chance to be helpful and needed, she was blind to the preferential treatment she received. As she grew older, though, she saw just how unfairly her parents treated Rose and Lavender.

Although Bell was grateful for her relative independence, it came at a cost. Rose was distant, cut off from her almost entirely. For as much time as Bell spent in her woods, Rose spent twice the time in the drawing room working on her many accomplishments. By the time Rose turned fifteen, she was untouchable by society’s standards. Aside from caring for her younger brother, Bell knew she could never match Rose in even a single womanly art.

Bell anchored herself to the tree and drew her brother’s face as she remembered it at her wedding breakfast: face upturned, eyes shining, and the promise of cook’s cake on his mind. Bell might not have achieved much in her growing up, but she would sacrifice all the tutors and lessons over again to keep the relationship she had developed with Ash.