Eye of the Wind

by Jane Jackson

  Behind her, the door opened, and Lobb came in.

  Before he could speak, she raised a hand for silence, and turned back to Gabriel as his face changed, fear-filled exhaustion replaced by hauteur, as startling as it was brief. ‘You must allow me this, sir. Honour demands …’ he gasped. ‘I must …’

  As his head rolled again, Melissa’s hand flew to her mouth. He sounded so different. His features tightened and his lips drew back, his breath an indrawn hiss through bared teeth.

  She glanced at Lobb, whose eyebrows registered his shock.

  Gabriel flung up an arm to shield his face. Exhaustion had muted his groans, but the torment in them pierced her very soul. Despite her familiarity with his wild, unshaven appearance, despite their moments of closeness and mutual trust, he was suddenly a stranger. Unnerved, Melissa shivered. Who was he?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Melissa slept little that night. Her busy brain allowed her weary body no peace. She could not lie still. Twice she got up and pulled back the curtains, gazing out across the park and woods to the moon-silvered waters of the Carrick Roads and the sea beyond. But the tranquil view offered no escape from the images that streamed through her mind: captivating, contradictory, confusing images of the man lying injured and restless in her brother’s bed.

  The night hours slowly passed, and eventually sheer exhaustion forced her to stop puzzling over a mystery that defied all attempts at unravelling. But she was still unable to relax. So, instead, she turned her thoughts to what might be achieved.

  She owed him so much, and wanted to repay him. It would have to be done in a way that gave no hint of her true feelings. Nor must she intrude on his privacy. As she reviewed possible ideas, one stood out. She examined it carefully, searching for flaws, and found none. It seemed she had found the perfect solution. At last she slept.

  It seemed only minutes later that Sarah arrived with her hot chocolate.

  ‘Morning, miss. ’Tis a lovely one too.’ She swept the curtains back, flooding the room with sunlight.

  Melissa pushed herself up on her elbows as she forced open heavy-lidded eyes. ‘Good morning, Sarah.’ Her voice was thick with sleep. ‘Has Lobb been in to see Gabriel yet?’

  ‘In there most of the night he was, miss, so Gilbert says. Mr Lobb told Gilbert to go to bed and he’d call him to take over in a few hours. Only he never did. I suppose he fell asleep in the chair.’

  Melissa sipped her chocolate, remaining silent while her mind raced. Had Lobb simply succumbed to tiredness and the demands of age? Or was his real reason for staying with Gabriel a determination to limit contact, and therefore speculation, even within the household? Only she and the butler had heard Gabriel’s feverish ravings, and seen the startling, if short-lived, switch of personality. Clearly Lobb intended to keep it that way.

  Bathed and dressed, her hair in long, loose curls down her back, she left her room and, after hesitating for a moment in the passage, resolutely turned away and went downstairs to the dining-room. Seeing Gilbert waiting to serve her, she realised that Lobb must still be upstairs with Gabriel.

  ‘Good morning, Gilbert,’ she smiled and took her seat. ‘Scrambled eggs, toast, marmalade, and coffee, please. Then you may go.’

  She forced herself to eat slowly. But as soon as she had finished, she went back upstairs. Pausing outside her brother’s room, she smoothed the front of her gown, nervously fingered the pleated gauze at her bosom, took a deep breath, and tapped her knuckles against the panelled wood. To spare each one of them possible embarrassment, she waited for Lobb to open the door.

  Though he looked tired he was freshly shaved, his coat and breeches immaculate, his linen pristine. Melissa was both moved and admiring of his determination to maintain standards no matter how demanding or unusual the circumstances.

  ‘Good morning, miss.’

  ‘Good morning, Lobb.’ She kept her voice low. ‘How is he?’

  ‘As well as might be expected, miss. He was a bit restless during the early hours. Got quite upset, wandering in his mind. A few drops of laudanum took care of it and we were both able to enjoy a few hours’ sleep. I decided that as Gilbert was under instructions to wake me should there be a turn for the worse, it was more sensible for me to remain and avoid a lot of disturbance.’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you. That was most thoughtful.’

  ‘Not at all, miss. Last thing we want is gossip and wild talk. Family’s been through enough without that.’ Having delivered what she recognised as an anxiety-inspired warning, he stood back, allowing her to see the bed and its occupant.

  Propped up on pillows, Gabriel turned his head. Above the black beard stubble, the upper half of his face was blotched with plum and purple bruises. His blue-grey eyes were shadowed and wary.

  ‘Good morning,’ Melissa smiled. ‘I hope you are feeling a little better?’

  ‘Much better, thank you, miss.’ But his voice belied the claim. Lacking resonance, it was little more than a hoarse whisper. Melissa guessed he was in considerable pain. She turned to the butler.

  ‘I think a hot drink and something to eat, Lobb, then perhaps another dose –’

  ‘No,’ Gabriel interrupted. ‘It’s very kind of you, miss. But I’ve imposed long enough. If I could have my clothes –’

  Melissa ignored him. ‘A tray, Lobb, if you please? And perhaps you would find out if Gabriel’s clothes are dry?’ She turned back to the bed. ‘No one will keep you here against your will. But as it appears that at the moment you can hardly move I think you would be wiser to stay, certainly until you have eaten.’ She heard the door close quietly behind her.

  ‘Also, I wish – that is –’ Swallowing the sudden dryness in her throat, she walked over to the window and stood beside the curtain, her back to the light so he should not see the blush she could feel creeping, hot and prickly, across her face. ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’

  He did not look at her, and remained silent.

  ‘It occurs to me that, given your knowledge of woodland management, your talents are really not being used to best advantage at the boatyard. I have given this matter careful thought and –’ Overcome by shyness, she half-turned toward the window, entwining her fingers. ‘I was wondering – that is – I should like to offer you the position of estate manager.’

  She found herself unable to look at him. When he still said nothing, she hurried on, ‘There would, of course, be an increase in pay, and you would be entitled to one of the estate cottages.’

  He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded as harsh and strained as the day they met. ‘It’s a kind offer, miss, and I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful, but I can’t.’

  It had not occurred to her that he might refuse, and his words had the impact of a blow. She turned from the window, every muscle tight. ‘May I ask why?’

  He glanced at the door and the words burst from him in a fierce whisper. ‘I’m a stranger here. Can you not imagine the comments? What of your family? That you should take such action without consulting them must inevitably provoke shock and censure. Do you not see? The repercussions for you would be –’

  She stared at him, startled. Then raised a hand. ‘Please, that is my concern, not yours. But if it will put your mind at rest, I can point out to them that while we wait for George’s return, it is important to keep the estate functioning properly. Your knowledge and expertise will help achieve this. Surely they must recognise the necessity and good sense.’ Would Aunt Louisa ever approve of anything she did? ‘In any case, I am of age and do not require their consent.’

  The tightness in her throat cut her short. She rubbed her hands, her palms slippery, her pulse beating loud and quick in her ears. As the silence lengthened she realised how desperately she wanted him to agree.

  She accepted that their relationship could never develop beyond what it was now. But he was the first real friend she had ever had and she wanted to show him how much it meant to her. The tension in the room increased
. She darted a glance at him and felt her heart clench like a fist at the bleakness in his face.

  He would not meet her eyes. When he spoke, he was the public Gabriel: polite, self-effacing and distant.

  ‘Thank you most kindly, miss. I’ll help in any way I can until you find a proper woodsman. But I must go back to the yard. Tom Ferris has been very good to me. So, with your permission, I’ll stay in the shack.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, to persuade, to plead, when it suddenly dawned on her that she might have made a terrible mistake. The bond between them and the friendship she valued so highly might in fact exist only in her imagination. As embarrassment surged through her in a suffocating wave, she tried to mask it with cool civility.

  ‘As you wish.’ Refusing to acknowledge the fire in her cheeks or the clammy dampness that caused her clothes to cling uncomfortably, she moved toward the door. ‘Be sure to eat well. It will assist your recovery. If the pain troubles you, tell Lobb, and he will bring you laudanum.’ Her voice broke and turning quickly she left the room.

  As the door closed Gabriel shut his eyes: teeth and fists clenched against an overwhelming desire to call out her name, beg her to come back. No drug could ease the pain of hurting her. She saw his refusal as rejection. And he was powerless to explain the real reason: that acceptance would focus too much attention on him and thus increase the risk of his being recognised.

  The memory of her beloved face flooding scarlet with humiliation would haunt him for ever. But as an outlaw under sentence of death, he could not – dared not – admit his feelings for her. His suffering equalled, exceeded even, hers. For she was everything he admired, everything he had dreamt and despaired of finding. Yet better he should suffer that than she should be tainted by the scandal attached to his name.

  Knowing how much extra work had fallen on the head groom because of John’s absence in the wood, and her own trips to Truro, Melissa declined his offer to drive her over to her uncle’s house in the gig.

  ‘No, thank you, Hocking. I’d much prefer to ride, and Samson needs the exercise.’

  ‘If you’re sure, miss.’ Visibly relieved, he didn’t argue and stumped off to fetch Samson’s tack.

  She had changed into her black habit and her hair was drawn back into a low chignon. Her eyes were slightly red from her spell of secret weeping in the garden. Of course, Sarah had noticed and asked what was wrong.

  ‘I’m just tired. There has been so much to do. Then Aunt Louisa … And I suppose too waiting to hear from George.’

  ‘You’ll hear soon. Bound to,’ Sarah comforted. ‘Bring you some witch hazel for your eyes shall I?’

  ‘Oh Sarah, I should so much enjoy lying quiet for half an hour with pads on my eyes, but there just isn’t time to spare.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Fresh air will have to do instead.’

  ‘All right then,’ Sarah said. ‘How about I pin a veil to your beaver hat? Shield your face lovely from prying eyes he will.’

  ‘What an excellent idea! Aunt Louisa will compliment me on my good sense in taking such care of my complexion. She will also point out that I should have done so years ago, and what a shame it is that I have left it far too late.’ The sigh was so deep it felt as if it came from her toes.

  ‘’Tis only for a couple of hours, miss,’ Sarah comforted. ‘Then you can come home again.’ She set the hat on Melissa’s head with the veil hanging down over her face, then drew the two long ends up, tied them over the brim at the back and let them hang down to her mistress’s shoulders.

  The ride to Gyllan House took almost half an hour. But controlling Samson, who was bursting with energy, allowed Melissa little time to brood on the events of the morning. Though desperately disappointed by Gabriel’s refusal, she clung to the fact that though he had rejected her offer he still wanted to stay on at the yard.

  As she trotted up the carriage drive to the front door, a stable boy ran out to take Samson, and Cardew, her Uncle Brinley’s butler, welcomed her.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Tregonning. May I say, on behalf of all the staff, how sorry we were to learn of your bereavement. Allow me to offer our sincere condolences. Your father was a fine man. He will be sadly missed.’

  The unexpected tribute provoked a sharp pang of grief. Melissa forced a smile. ‘How very kind. Thank you.’

  ‘Everyone is down by the lake, miss. Shall I – ?’

  ‘No, that’s all right, Cardew. I’ll find them.’ She removed her hat – the veil had served its purpose, her eyes no longer felt hot and gritty, and she was away from public gaze now – and handed it to him with her gloves and riding crop. Then she went back out into the sunshine. But the small puffs of cloud were moving faster and beginning to join together.

  At the wide steps that led from the upper lawn she looked down toward the wide grassy area edging a reed-fringed lake and her heart sank. Aunt Louisa’s invitations to the rest of the family had clearly been couched in terms similar to a royal decree, for there were at least a dozen people sitting in chairs or on rugs.

  All in full mourning, they looked to Melissa like a flock of scavenging crows amid the white cloths spread with dishes of pastries, plates of cakes, and bowls of raspberries and strawberries. There were even fresh peaches from the succession house, a source of great pride to her aunt who delighted in being able to serve at her table a selection of fruits that must, she was convinced, be the envy of her neighbours. Several children were playing under the watchful eyes of nursemaids who maintained a respectful distance from the main group.

  ‘Ah, there she is!’

  Her aunt’s voice rang out like an accusation, and, fighting an immediate and urgent desire to turn and run, Melissa raised a hand, and walked down to join the party.

  As she moved around the group, pausing to exchange polite greetings, respond to enquiries after her mother’s health and remarks concerning the delightful weather and wonderful view, she was aware of being watched. It was not one of the sidelong glances, accompanied by a sympathetic smile, of her aunts, uncles and cousins; she was being studied. Then she realised with anger and dismay there was a stranger present.

  ‘Melissa, my dear, how delightful.’ Remaining in her chair, Aunt Louisa grasped her niece’s hands and pulled her down to kiss the air by her cheek. ‘I knew you would not disappoint us. You can have no idea what a pleasure it is for me to see you here among the family.’

  ‘Family, Aunt?’ Melissa said quietly, furious that she had been duped.

  ‘Of course.’ Louisa’s brief frown conveyed surprise and irritation. ‘Did I not say so? Ah. You refer to James. But indeed he is family, Melissa.’ She beckoned to a plump, pleasant-faced man loitering just out of earshot and clearly awaiting this signal.

  He was wearing the coat, breeches and boots of a country gentleman. Though Melissa hazarded his age to be approaching 40, his shirt points were starched, his cravat modishly tied, and he had discarded his wig in favour of a fashionable forward-brushed style that curled in front of his ears.

  ‘You must,’ Aunt Louisa insisted, ‘remember my cousin, James Chenoweth? His mother is my father’s youngest sister.’

  Melissa would have denied the acquaintance, but he did not give her the chance.

  ‘Miss Tregonning,’ he bowed. ‘I fear my aunt expects too much. We met but once, and that was many years ago. I have not been in Cornwall for some time. But I hope you will not be offended if I say that I share your sadness, and deeply regret the loss of your father. A most enterprising man as I remember.’

  Melissa curtsied. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Charlotte.’ Aunt Louisa leant over slightly, addressing her elder daughter. ‘If you were to move that way a little … Excellent. There, now there is plenty of room on the rug. Come now, Melissa. Do sit down. We do not wish to keep poor James standing on ceremony.’

  Melissa had no choice but to sit in the space her aunt had arranged for her as James lowered himself down beside her with a soft grunt. Turning from him, she smiled at her c
ousin.

  ‘You look very well, Charlotte.’ As sleek and smug as a well-fed cat, Charlotte leant forward, her eyes bright as a blade. ‘I am increasing again. Henry is delighted, of course. We hope it will be a girl this time.’

  ‘That is wonderful news. My felicitations to you both.’

  A small frown wrinkled Charlotte’s smooth forehead as she tilted her head, observing Melissa with a critical gaze. ‘I believed my mother to be worrying without cause, but I see now her concern was justified. You are grown so thin! I have to say it does not become you. You being so tall. I can only suppose you have been terribly anxious about Aunt Emma.’

  Drawing her legs up beside her, Melissa brushed her fingers lightly over the skirt of her habit. ‘Indeed, I was, for a while. She and my father were very close, and his death came as a great shock. However, Aunt Lucy assures me in her latest letter that my mother is in much better spirits.’

  Charlotte seemed unimpressed by this good news, preferring to dwell on matters of concern and anxiety. ‘What of my cousin, George? Have you heard from him yet? Your situation must be really very difficult.’

  Melissa had had enough. ‘It is true, Charlotte,’ she confided, ‘I am quite at a loss.’

  ‘You poor thing!’ Charlotte’s voice dripped sympathy, but the expression on her face did not reach her china-blue eyes. They were avid, hungry for misery. ‘Tell me the worst. You may rely on my total discretion. I shall not breathe a word to a soul.’

  ‘Oh, I will not swear you to secrecy,’ Melissa said kindly. ‘You see, what has startled – no, I may go so far as to say overwhelmed me – is the affectionate regard in which my father was held. Even more touching have been the many small acts of kindness I have received from people who knew him only by reputation. I do not know how I may thank them adequately. Then, with my mother taken ill and my brother not yet returned – though we expect word any time – I was quite fearful as to how I should manage. But by great good fortune our lawyer has been able to deal with everything with a minimum of fuss. So I’m sure you can imagine that with all my terrors coming to naught I feel very foolish.’