The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton

Author:Kate Morton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Abandoned children - Australia, Cornwall (County), Australia, England, Historical, Abandoned children, Family Life, Grandmothers, Country homes, Literary, Country homes - England - Cornwall (County), English - Australia, Inheritance and succession, English, British, General, Domestic fiction, Fiction
ISBN: 9781416572060
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2009-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,

The Lady of Shalott?

How Rose identified with the Lady of Shalott! Cursed to spend eternity in her chamber, forced always to experience the world at one remove. For hadn’t she, Rose, spent most of her life similarly interred?

But not anymore. Rose had made a decision: no longer would she be shackled by the morbid prognoses of Dr. Matthews, the hovering concern of Mamma. Though still delicate, Rose had learned that frailty begot frailty, that nothing caused light-headedness so surely as day after day of stifling confinement. She was going to open windows when she was hot—she might catch a chill, but then again she might not. She was going to live with every expectation of marrying, having children, growing old. And at long last, on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday, Rose was to look down on Camelot. Better than that, walk through Camelot. For after years of pleading, Mamma had finally consented: today, for the first time, Rose was to accompany Eliza to the Blackhurst cove.

Ever since she’d arrived seven years before, Eliza had been bringing back tales from the cove. When Rose was lying in her warm, dark room, breathing the stale air of her latest illness, Eliza would burst through the door so that Rose could almost smell the sea on her skin. She would climb in beside Rose and put a shell, or a powdery cuttlefish, or a little piece of shingle in her hand, and then she would begin her story. And in her mind, Rose would see the blue sea, feel the warm breeze in her hair, the hot sand beneath her feet.

Some of the tales Eliza invented, some she learned elsewhere. Mary, the maid, had brothers who were fishermen, and Rose suspected she enjoyed chatting when she should be working. Not to Rose, of course, but Eliza was different. All the servants treated Eliza differently. Quite improperly, almost as if they fancied themselves her friends.

Just lately Rose had begun to suspect that Eliza was venturing beyond the estate, had maybe even spoken with a villager or two, for her tales had taken on a new edge. They were rich with the specifics of boats and sailing, mermaids and treasures, adventures across the sea, told in colorful language that Rose secretly savored; and there was a more expansive look in their teller’s eyes, as if she’d tasted the wicked things of which she spoke.

One thing was certain, Mamma would be livid to learn that Eliza had been into the village, mixed with common folk. It riled Mamma enough that Eliza spoke with the servants—for that fact alone Rose was able to bear Eliza’s friendship with Mary. If Mamma were to ask Eliza where she went, certainly Eliza wouldn’t lie, though what Mamma could do Rose wasn’t sure. In all the years of trying, Mamma had been unable to find a punishment that deterred Eliza.

The threat of being considered improper meant nothing to Eliza.

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