The Foundling Bride

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Yes, you can. Two weeks at the most,’ he insisted implacably, trying to maintain his straining patience and calm the escalating pulse-rate caused by the closeness of the magnificent young woman by his side.

  * * *

  For the next two weeks everything was rushed and planned, and ordered and contrived to make the wedding occasion a memorable one.

  When the day of the wedding finally arrived, and they were surrounded by a family gathering and a few friends, Lowena and Marcus gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they spoke their vows, unaware of Lady Alice and Juliet dabbing away their tears of happiness and Sir Robert looking proudly on.

  It was the most poignant moment of Marcus’s life. His expression was so intense, so profoundly proud, that Lowena’s heart ached.

  Afterwards Marcus took his wife in his arms and kissed her with a passion that left her breathless. He was unable to believe that this exquisite creature in her gown if ivory satin and silver lace belonged to him at last. With her large amber eyes and her hair cascading in abundant red and gold curls, framing her enchanting face, she was a vision of radiant, breathtaking beauty.

  * * *

  Standing in the shadows across the square stood a silent observer—Edward, Lord Carberry, only today having arrived in London. He was watching his brother’s wedding. Guests in their finery milled around the bride and groom with smiling, happy faces, having just emerged from the church. Marcus had his arm about his bride.

  On seeing such family happiness, Edward gave a reflective cynical smile.

  Conscience! The irony of it! He hadn’t realised until recently that he had one, and it wasn’t the first time he had regretted the things he had done. Everything he touched, he destroyed. Since Isabel had died he hadn’t given much thought to his behaviour, and he wasn’t proud of what he had become.

  Edward had heard that Lowena had discovered her identity—that Sir Robert Wesley of Devon was her father. The name was familiar to him. Sir Robert was immensely wealthy, by all accounts—owned a silver mine and was well respected.

  He watched his brother hand his beautiful new wife into the carriage, in a drifting swirl of ivory satin and lace, and sit beside her. Marcus’s pride and the love he felt for his bride was evident in his face. It was a scene Edward would have liked to be part of. Marcus’s marriage, and seeing his happiness and the love he bore his bride, made his own wretchedness and loneliness seem more profound.

  There was no one to see his face as he turned away, his stormy eyes filled with sorrow. For the first time in his life he stood apart from himself and examined his soul. Alcoholic drink had always been a thing he could take or leave alone. Now, as he turned towards the nearest hostelry, he needed one badly.

  * * *

  At last they were alone. They were staying with Juliet until they left for Cornwall, and their room was a cosy place to be.

  Marcus drew his wife into his arms. ‘Dear Lord, you’re incredible, Lowena. Have you any idea how lovely you are—and how rare?’ he murmured, touching the smooth cheek of this artless young woman with unconscious reverence, unable to believe that she was his wife.

  His words, combined with the touch of his fingertips against her cheek and the deep, compelling timbre of his voice, had a seductive impact on Lowena. She could not believe the pulsing happiness that glowed inside her, or the exquisite sensations speeding through her veins.

  For a long moment they gazed at each other, feeling more exposed to each other than ever before.

  ‘I never knew I could feel this wonderful wanting...’ Lowena breathed as they lay together, gently placing her lips at the corner of his mouth. ‘I want you to love me, Marcus—like you did before.’

  ‘I do love you,’ he whispered. ‘More than you will ever know. ‘You have come to mean everything to me. I have loved you from the minute I lifted you into my arms that day I found you in the woods. Who would have thought then that I would end up marrying you?’

  ‘I always hoped,’ she murmured simply, her face aglow. ‘I’m glad that you love me.’

  Heat erupted inside her, spreading through her body as his lips found hers. He had kissed her before, but this time it was different. Within the sanctity of marriage this time there was no guilt, no nagging feeling that what they were doing was wrong. It was a kiss of infinite tenderness—a kiss that quickly escalated to something more.

  They loved each other until dawn, and Lowena gloried in her power to arouse and bring pleasure to this wonderful man. She felt an overwhelming sense of wonder that their bodies could react to each other in an instant, that they could become one. That wonder soared within her as his lips murmured against her mouth, his body claiming hers. They moved together in a timeless rhythm and Lowena thought that everything was perfect and would last for ever.

  When she lifted her eyes to his, Marcus saw sweet acceptance and all the love in the world concentrated in their fathomless amber depths. He also saw the promise of a perfect future together, of his unborn children and of quiet joy.

  * * *

  Never had Lowena believed she could be so happy as she settled into her marriage at the cottage at Tregarrick. Wanting to give the newly wedded couple privacy, Lady Alice had been more than happy to remain with Juliet in London indefinitely.

  During the day Marcus immersed himself in his work, spending a large part of each day at the mine, and when he was not at the mine they would spend time together, riding through the surrounding countryside and generally just enjoying being together. At other times Marcus could be found fastened in his study, poring over his business investments and seeking other enterprises in which to invest his time and money.

  Lowena saw nothing of Edward. Marcus told her that he’d made a brief visit to London and had returned to Tregarrick recently. Marcus had met him when riding home from the mine and had been surprised when Edward had reined in to speak to him. He had asked about the mine and quietly congratulated him on his marriage before riding on.

  ‘Something has changed,’ Marcus told his wife. He was puzzled by his brother’s behaviour, but he welcomed any change for the better in their relationship. ‘He seemed different, somehow.’

  ‘Different? In what way?’

  Her question went unanswered for a moment, as Marcus thought of his meeting with his brother, and then he told her.

  They had met on the road when Marcus had been riding home from the mine. Edward had been riding in the opposite direction, and he’d halted his horse and waited for Marcus to reach him.

  They’d sat their horses, looking at each other.

  ‘Well, Marcus?’ Edward had said.

  ‘I thought you were still in London,’ Marcus had replied, thinking his brother looked detached and very tired. There had been something in his eyes he hadn’t seen before—something akin to torment. ‘I’d hoped to see you, but I had to get back.’

  Edward had nodded. ‘You are married now.’ He’d smiled thinly when Marcus’s gaze had sharpened. ‘I heard you had married Lowena, who has found her family at long last. What a turn-up, eh? I congratulate you both. You’re a lucky man. I envy you. Rest assured that she will be safe from me in the future.’

  Marcus had looked at him a long time, thinking, I’m a fool. You took Isabel and wrecked my life—and then Lowena. And yet...

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, Edward. And you? Is there no one?’

  Edward had sighed and shaken his head. ‘Isabel is a hard act to follow—besides, can a man who has lived the life I have find what we had again?’ His eyes had met his brother’s. ‘I’ve done a lot of thinking recently...about what I did to you—and her. I should not have let her ride that day. I blame myself for her death, Marcus. More than you or anybody else possibly could. I’ll never stop blaming myself till the day I die. It’s suddenly important to me that that you know that.’

  M
arcus had expected him to be the Edward he knew. He had not been prepared to see a change in him, and had been shocked by the outward show of feeling. He hadn’t been the brother he knew—always so confident and sure, often cruel. He had not expected to see a grave, tormented man and the black depression that had seemed to cloak him.

  ‘Why, Edward? Why—after all this time?’

  He’d shrugged. ‘I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing you think ill of me. I’ve grief enough to suit even you.’

  ‘All my life I believed you hated me.’

  He’d shaken his head. ‘I thought I did—but that’s not what I feel. I do feel hate—but not for you. For myself.’

  Edward had looked at Marcus for a long, slow time, and then he’d looked ahead of him and ridden on.

  ‘And you, Marcus? Lowena asked softly now. ‘Will you be able to forgive him his harsh treatment of you and your mother over the years?’

  Marcus sighed. ‘The enmity between us goes back to childhood. It became more virulent with the passing of years but he was never my enemy. I became his.’

  ‘Can you find it in yourself to forgive him for Isabel?’

  He thought a moment before speaking. ‘I was immeasurably hurt and angry at the time. In the beginning I think he took Isabel as an exercise in proving his superiority as the older brother, but then I genuinely felt he loved her. When I came back from America and saw you—how Edward was doing his damnedest to seduce you—I felt it was happening all over again.’

  ‘But forgiveness,’ Lowena persisted. ‘Can you do that?’

  ‘Yes, I would like to think so. Now, after all this time, I feel I can forgive him. Despite his attitude, I think he has suffered in his own way—first losing the mother he adored, at a time in his life when he so needed her, and then Isabel. It left him with a well of bitterness and loneliness. I’d like to think we could become reconciled.’

  ‘Reconciliation and redemption can defy anything that’s gone before, Marcus—forgiveness, too, if you let it. You didn’t turn the other way when he approached you today. One thing I learned when I was growing up is that it’s easy to condemn, but harder being compassionate. It seems to me you have shown compassion for your half-brother, even if the reason is hard for you to understand just now.’

  Marcus smiled softly. ‘You have a beautiful head on your shoulders, Lowena Carberry, and a wise one—full of goodness. However, I’ve no intention of acting like the caring brother all of a sudden, but I will welcome his hand of friendship if he offers it.’

  * * *

  Lowena listened to the wind growing stronger as the day wore on. By early evening it was blowing with a force she found terrifying. When one of the servants came from the hall to tell them that a ship was in difficulty off the cursed cove, in danger of floundering on the rocks, and that Lord Carberry was there and needed all the help he could get, Lowena immediately reached for her cloak, hoping to be of help to any survivors should the worst happen.

  ‘Send word to my husband at the mine, Mrs Seagrove. Tell him what has happened and where I am,’ she said to the housekeeper. ‘And find what you can in the way of blankets.’

  Mrs Seagrove had done exactly that, and was about to send one of the grooms to the cove with the blankets when the door was thrust open.

  ‘Lowena?’ Marcus’s voice was sharp and loud, and could be heard above the storm.

  Mrs Seagrove came hurrying out of the kitchen. ‘Oh, sir. The mistress isn’t here. I sent one of the servants to the mine to fetch you. A ship was seen to be in difficulties in the rising gale. You must have seen for yourself if you came home by the coastal path.’

  ‘I didn’t come that way,’ he said, feeling the first stirrings of alarm. ‘I rode back through the woods.’

  ‘I expect everyone from the village will have gone to help.’

  ‘And Lowena?’

  ‘She went to join Lord Carberry in the cove.’ Marcus stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief—and something else Mrs Seagrove didn’t like. ‘He wanted all the help he could get...’

  ‘And she went?’ Marcus said, frantic for his wife’s safety.

  ‘There is great concern for those on board. If the vessel hits the rocks there may be no survivors. It will be merciful if they can be rescued.’

  Marcus turned away. Since when had Edward shown consideration for anybody—let alone shown them mercy? he thought furiously, thrusting the amicable conversation he’d had with his brother just days ago out of his mind. He wouldn’t put it past Edward to have lured the ship onto the rocks himself, in order to steal its cargo. God help the poor devils on board.

  Without more ado he left the house, his sights solidly fixed ahead. It was still daylight, but the light was fading. Rain and low cloud made visibility difficult. On reaching the coastal path he found the mist swirling around him, but it was a mist whipped up by the gale-force wind from the sea and not the ghostly stillness of fog.

  Arriving at the clifftop above the cove the locals believed was cursed, due to the ships having floundered on the needle-like rocks in the past, he secured his horse and pushed his way through the furze bushes. He saw that all was pandemonium down below on the beach. It was worse than he had expected.

  The gale had become a tempest. Storm-driven waves crashed upon the rocks, sending plumes of spray high into the air. The tide was riding high, thundering onto the shore, the waves capped with curls of foam.

  Marcus saw Edward. He had his telescope and was looking at the vessel. Men and women had collected on the shore, watching helplessly, waiting for the inevitable. In desperation his eyes searched for Lowena—and then he saw her, standing close to Edward, her cloak billowing about her like a giant kite.

  In its moment of peril the vessel was pitching violently. Unable to change course, it was being tossed up and down, blind and helpless, at the mercy of the elements with the wind driving it to a deathly trap.

  Hurrying to Lowena’s side, Marcus placed his arm about her waist. Turning her head to look at him, her expression registered the horror she was feeling. Neither of them spoke. They watched as the bulk of the vessel seemed to rear up and then collapse with a sound like thunder as it hit the jagged rocks. There was a terrible rending of timbers, followed by the total collapse of rigging and masts.

  Lowena closed her eyes to shut out the scene of the stricken ship, her frozen lips sending up a silent prayer for the unfortunates on board. The crew—about fifteen or twenty men—could be seen on the deck, clinging on to anything that might save them.

  ‘What can be done to help them?’ she cried, raising her voice to be heard above the storm. The wind whipped the words away as soon as she had uttered them.

  ‘Very little,’ Edward replied, having come to stand beside his brother. His face was drawn and anxious, in an expression not often witnessed. ‘It’s too far out to be reached.’

  As he said this one of the crew could be seen falling into the water. His arms flailed once before he was swept away. Nobody would be strong enough to swim against the surges of the water.

  Seeing this, Marcus was galvanised into action. He turned to the men from the village and told them to fetch one of the boats that had been dragged up the beach for safety. When someone like Marcus assumed command, others obeyed, and soon the men were pulling a large rowing boat down to the water’s edge. He ran towards it and slotted the oars into the rowlocks, turning as Lowena, beside herself with terror because she knew what he was about to do, tried to pull him back.

  ‘No, Marcus! You cannot go out there. It’s too dangerous. I beg of you not to go.’

  ‘She’s right!’ Edward shouted. ‘Don’t be a fool, man. It would be suicidal.’

  ‘I can’t stand by and watch them drown,’ Marcus told him. ‘There’s a chance some of them can be rescued. There’s no time to waste and it will be dark
soon. The rocks beneath the water are holding her, but when she is swept free she will be dashed against the cliff face and battered to pieces within minutes.’

  ‘And you along with her!’ Lowena cried. ‘Please, Marcus. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’

  ‘I have to try, Lowena. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something. If I can save just one soul it will be worth it.’ He looked at the men gathered round. ‘I need just one man to come with me. Just one to man an oar. More and there will be no room for survivors.’

  There was a shuffling among them as they moved back. Nobody was willing to risk their life.

  Seeing their reluctance, Edward uttered a sound of disgust. In this moment of extreme danger, and perhaps death, his brother was prepared to risk his life to aid his fellow man. In the face of Marcus’s courageous determination, Edward felt admiration surge through him.

  ‘Damn it all. Get in,’ Edward said to Marcus, climbing into the boat and taking up one of the oars.

  Marcus stared at him. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘Neither do you. I cannot think of any combination of circumstances that would make me risk my life, but I cannot allow you to do this alone. Get in. There are people to be saved and we’re wasting time.’

  Lowena watched with paralysed anguish as Marcus sat beside his brother and took hold of an oar. She stared after them, her pulse racing like a maddened thing, sensing impending doom as she watched them battle the savage sea. Sick with worry, all colour having drained out of her face, she was insensible to the fact that her feet were sinking into the wet sand.

  She felt so small and insignificant, standing there with the vast expanse of water before her—so alone. How could Marcus possibly survive the savage sea?

  Every time the boat sank into a trough her blood ran cold. In her terrible, heart-rending anguish she wanted to scream, to cry out her husband’s name, but she remained silent. She stood straight and still, her eyes staring out of her stricken face, her mind frayed with worry.