Safe in the Earl's Arms

by Liz Tyner

‘Only because we found an inviting island…full of lovely ladies…’ He let his face reminisce on glorious sights he never saw. ‘You need to go with Ben next time.’

  Dane’s head bobbled and his smile was smug. ‘Oh, you’ll not catch me that easy.’ He paused. ‘So the trip—as bad as I said?’

  ‘Worse… Your brother…’ Warrington grumbled. ‘Put a captain’s coat on him and he thinks he’s Captain Cook without possibility of demise. I would insist you go with him on the next voyage, but that would surely increase the danger. With the two of you on board, the ship would sink. It was perilous enough this time.’

  Dane watched him, waiting.

  ‘Ben banged himself up sliding around the ship in a storm. But he’s healing.’

  ‘Papa,’ Jacob interrupted, looking at his father. ‘I have a boat. I brought it. Nurse is keeping it for me. I want to show you.’

  War brushed Jacob’s hair from his eyes. He was looking as ragged as the cabin boy. Warrington nodded and Jacob darted out through the door.

  ‘And the, uh…’ Dane tilted his head to the left, in the direction Melina had left. ‘The woman—you brought her back because we have no suitable English governesses to teach Willa the ways of our country.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Instead, you find a woman—I’m sure you noticed—and install her in your house.’

  ‘We will not be discussing it.’ He sat on the sofa and looked at Dane. ‘And you will keep ten paces from her at all times—and keep your head down when she enters a room.’ He grinned at his brother. ‘Perhaps you should just leave now.’

  ‘I will visit Aunt Adelphinia. She says I am her favourite nephew.’ Dane spoke lightly, but he moved to lean against the unlit fireplace. ‘And is the mighty Captain Ben returning home before he sails again?’

  ‘He had to stay on Ascalon to make sure the repairs are being completed and to prepare her for the next voyage. As soon as the ship is ready, he’ll sail. But he will make time to see you and tell us he’s leaving.’

  Dane nodded, lips pressed before he spoke. ‘I believe I’ll have to speak with Ben. You might not want to discuss the woman, but I’ll wager he will.’

  ‘Captain Little Brother will tell you Melina did spend some time with me. I took care of her when she was ill as I didn’t wish for any of the randy seamen to push themselves on her. And he will find great joy in telling you how he made up senseless errands to keep her busy so I could not enjoy her company to the fullest.’

  ‘Ha. If you had that woman near you, then you had enough time to find some comfort.’

  ‘Doesn’t signify. She’s here. As far as Jacob will know she is merely another servant. I’ve certainly dressed her in sacks.’

  ‘Those shapeless rags she is wearing do not hide all of her.’ Dane teased with his eyes.

  Warrington nodded, picturing Melina’s form. If he had found Melina before he met Cassandra, things might have been different, but he hadn’t. And he had Jacob. Warrington needed to be a true father and he’d already brought enough turmoil into Jacob’s life.

  ‘Have you heard from our stepmother?’ Warrington asked.

  ‘Yes. You received a letter from her.’ Dane paused, moving the fripperies around on the mantel the way one would move chess pieces. ‘I did open it. I sent her the funds. And a firm response. From you. You were a bit angry. Much more so than I would have been. You bluntly told her she must stop the wagers.’

  Warrington nodded. ‘I’m not as understanding as you are.’

  ‘No. You’re not. But I’m her favourite, too.’ His chin jutted a bit, in the traditional family pose.

  ‘You didn’t like it any better than I did when she sold Mother’s jewels.’

  ‘I didn’t relish it, but it made little difference. I didn’t like her from the moment she called on her dear friend Adelphinia to see how she was faring over the loss of her mother. As if anyone who truly knew Adele would call her that.’ He shrugged while he spoke. ‘You also should be aware that you sent a man Broomer knows to our dear stepmother’s house. The man is quite skilled at wagering and is to teach her not to lose so grandly.’ Dane grinned. ‘I am Broomer’s favourite, too.’

  ‘A favoured dung heap is still a dung heap.’

  ‘As long as it is preferred above the other dung heaps, I am pleased.’ Dane scratched at his chin and moved beside Warrington so that their boots almost touched. ‘You’re very close to the favourite, though.’

  ‘I cannot believe I let you watch Jacob.’

  Dane laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I pretended to be you. Stern and aloof.’ He plopped himself down on the sofa. ‘Now tell me what the trip was really like.’

  Warrington began to talk, but his mind stayed on Dane’s words. Stern and aloof. Just the way his own father had been.

  *

  Melina woke well into the morning. She’d had trouble falling asleep and hadn’t slept soundly.

  She’d spent the evening with Willa, instantly finding the child endearing.

  In the night, she’d heard Warrington’s laughter echoing in the house and the raised voice of his brother, telling some bold tale. Warrington had his own way to keep his shadows at bay.

  And she wanted to find the place Cassandra was buried and take a hammer to the marker. This woman she’d never seen. A ghost with far-reaching tentacles. A woman who had everything she could have wanted and could have needed, and found her joy in destroying others around her.

  Melina dressed slowly, knowing she would be leaving soon and never see England again.

  She’d never see Warrington free himself of Cassandra. She’d never know if he could truly have a reprieve from the past.

  A knock sounded at the bedchamber door and she hurried to open it. A draggy-eyed Broomer stood there, his waistcoat buttoned askew. ‘Miss. You’ve a caller. An older woman. A real lady. Not one like that Ludgate’s woman.’ He shook his head. ‘I’d have shot her.’

  He plodded down the stairs, his words fading. ‘I put this one in the sitting room because she had a peaceable face. Tired-like. But if you shout, I’ll be there with the pistol.’

  Melina found her father’s wife examining the harpoon, her face only inches from it. She had her braided hair wrapped into a bun and lace ringed the neck of her peach dress. Her eyes were serene, but she had to have known something of Melina’s life or she wouldn’t have been standing in the room.

  Melina could see no lack of strength in the woman in front of her. In fact, the woman reminded her of the stories she’d heard of the mythical Greek heroines. Even the scent Lady Hawkins wore fitted her, not a flowery delicate one, but more bracing, almost the same as the resin the men used to coat the ship.

  ‘Interesting…’ The older woman gave her a warm smile when she turned to Melina. ‘I’ve never, ever been near so much of a sailing collection in a home. The seashells are amazing.’ She pointed to the collection at the sides of the fireplace.

  ‘Yes. Warrington’s brother selected the objects.’ Melina’s eyes roved the room. ‘Few women would choose a tooth, a weapon or a broken ship’s bell.’

  ‘Even the blue curtains hint of the water. This man has a fascination. I am impressed.’ She touched the tooth. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a room an ordinary man planned—though I have been to Carlton House. One can’t consider that an ordinary man’s creation, though.’ She looked to Melina, her eyes saying she expected Melina to agree.

  Melina smiled and nodded. She’d never heard of Carlton House.

  The woman’s mouth quirked up. ‘Like you, I cannot imagine a woman who would appreciate the decorations, but they are interesting.’ She stood solemnly, and interlocked her fingers in front of herself. ‘You’re my husband’s daughter, aren’t you?’

  Melina raised her chin in agreement, not seeing anger in the woman’s face, but a searching perusal. ‘How…’

  The woman touched above her own breast. ‘I saw the mark. My husband’s sister had one on her arm. She’s passed now. And one of my daughters has a smaller
one on her back and one has one on her scalp, which is hidden completely by her hair. I doubt my husband is even aware of his daughters’ marks.’ She examined Melina. ‘You have the same nose and perhaps profile of my daughter, as well. My husband doesn’t know—but I saw the painting of you. I always made it a practice to see his showings.’ She shook her head. ‘He never thinks to ask what I do when he paints. I truly think he doesn’t know the world exists at that time for other people.’

  ‘I did not mean for you to discover…’ Melina felt she’d betrayed her father. Although she didn’t think he deserved kindness on her part, she didn’t wish to create problems.

  The woman rubbed her right hand against the rings on her left, which she wore over her gloves. ‘When I saw you in my house, I near had an apoplexy. It took me a day to think about it before I truly accepted that you were in England. I decided to find you. All I had to do was get in one of those dreadful hackney carriages and say I wanted to go to the Earl of Warrington’s home.’ Her eyes, wreathed in wrinkles, deepened into smugness. ‘And to know about my husband’s other life—I was fairly certain years and years ago. More than a decade, I would suppose.’

  ‘You spoke to him about it?’

  Her eyes flashed anger. ‘I saw no reason to speak my doubts if he would not speak his deceit.’ Her ringed fingers fluttered again. ‘No. I saw no need to talk to him about this. I could not confront—accuse—and demand confession. He would have professed innocence—and other than hiring a man to follow him on a sea voyage, I had little chance of proving my suspicions. I was content to wait, knowing the truth would surface.’ She pointed a gloved finger at Melina. ‘It does, my dear. Remember that and it will help you sleep better at night.’

  ‘Why did you suspect?’ Melina hadn’t expected the woman to be so calm about something that should have caused such intensity.

  ‘Too much secrecy. Too much contentment to be from England for long spells. And when I first viewed his painting of you, I saw it at a sideways glance and assumed he’d painted my daughter with a different hair colour. But why would he paint her years younger than she is? Then I saw the shoreline behind her. The sea. Hmm.’ She touched a gloved finger to her cheek. ‘He told me, and yet, he didn’t know he did.’

  ‘You were content with it?’

  She shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. But it makes little sense to move from a man who is hardly at home and seems to care little when he is. Why make a change when there wasn’t a need. My secret, you see. He left for the island. I waved goodbye with a stoic promise I would try hard to survive while he was gone—and cherished the imagination of storms at sea. If he never returned, I would toddle along as always, wearing a lovely shade of black for a while. When he did return, I toddled along as always, wearing a lighter shade of black, for myself.’ Hurt flashed behind her eyes, but was replaced with a wide, innocent blink. ‘He does not touch me. I told Lord Hawkins my physician diagnosed a serious female complaint for me—and described ghastly lesions, bloody flux and being treated with leeches. I showed him a handkerchief covered in blood.’ She shuddered. ‘The poor maid had fallen and broken the mantle of a lamp, gashing her hand. But he didn’t know.’ She patted her silver hair. ‘My children—I love. My husband—he is like a picture on the wall to me. I have him for display on occasion.’

  Melina smiled at the thought of her father reduced to a painting. ‘I was furious. I never suspected him married to someone else.’

  ‘The question probably did not enter your mind with as much insistence as it entered mine. I had months and months to think of nothing else.’

  The older woman took a breath, and her eyes darted to the side. This time, Melina could see the struggle she used to keep her voice light.

  ‘Do you mind telling me the particulars?’ Lady Hawkins asked. ‘Why you came here? Your mother? Other children?’

  ‘I have two sisters and my mother died. No brothers.’ Melina looked to the window. ‘I needed to come here to see if I could find a way to fund a dowry for my sisters.’ She smiled, her gaze locked to the wall. ‘Our lives are not the same as here. I cannot believe what I see. The plouti, gold and silver—for buttons or spoons. Even the servants have fine clothing.’ She thought back to the island and the contrast.

  The older woman appeared to shrug off the talk of wealth. ‘How much dowry do your sisters need?’

  Melina told her.

  She tilted her head back. ‘That’s all?’ She smiled. ‘My dear, I will quietly see to having the funds for you. I think I could arrange it within a few days.’

  Melina shivered. To think, she could be on board a ship for Melos—with a dowry for both sisters.

  ‘What will my father think, spending the funds?’

  The woman put her hand to her cheek. ‘Oh. It was such a horrible injustice to both my husband and me when my father died and left all his funds in the care of my cousin. And my relative, he is such a strange young man. He will not listen to a word concerning the accounts unless it is from my lips. I could throw every pence into the ocean and he would simply say, “It’s what your father wanted”.’ She smiled at Melina. ‘You know, I think it never occurred to my husband who might have suggested such a spurious arrangement to my father before he died. It was at a particularly rough time in my life, when I’d just seen a painting of you, my dear.’ She reached out and examined her gloves. ‘I do feel I owe you.’ Lady Hawkins stood. ‘I must get home, although my husband will not even notice I’m gone. He painted well into the night and woke early to catch the light. He found inspiration again—and the rest of the world is lost to him.’

  Melina rose, and the woman moved close to her, looking intensely at her.

  ‘I can’t help but see my own children in your face.’ She shook her head. ‘And I never really thought to see you standing before me.’ Her features eased. ‘I didn’t know how I would truly feel if I saw you, but you’re a lovely woman.’

  She looked at the harpoon again. ‘I’m sure the painting session will be nearly over when I return home. But…’ she touched her hand to Melina’s ‘…should you encounter a problem, I’d be pleased if you send a message to me. I will help you as my own daughter—quietly, of course. I’m not ready to explain the truth to my children. They have been sheltered, I think, from their father’s true nature. I would like as little upset as possible in the flow of my life.’ Her eyes had a malevolent glint. ‘I do like taking my husband’s secrets and keeping them from him.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Her face softened again. ‘I would be pleased if you consider me a friend.’ She hesitated in the doorway. ‘In some deep part of my mind, I must have wondered since he returned with the painting of the three girls playing in the waves. That one.’ She looked to the wall. ‘Their faces were obscured.’ She winced. ‘Such a painting was not his usual style. And when I saw the portrait of your face…and then the mark…’ she touched above her breast ‘…like my own daughter.’ Her eyes wavered. ‘You were no longer a stranger to me. You were a part of my family. I only ask that you keep our ties private.’

  When her father’s wife walked out through the door, Melina knew she had no reason not to return to Melos. She could take funds back to her sisters and buy the statue. But now the island felt lonely to her in a way she’d never noticed before. She would be returning to a gaol, locked alone with her heart—and dreams too secret to mention aloud.

  Warrington had distanced himself from her and she knew he wouldn’t even let his thoughts linger on her. They were still taken by another woman.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Melina sat in the children’s room, which for some reason smelled like linseed oil—possibly someone’s idea of a good cleaning solution. She felt an intense need to be near the little girl who had no true father and whose mother had died.

  Willa chewed her doll’s painted shoe. The nursery maid slept, lips parted, in a chair beside the window.

  Melina didn’t know if she should wake the woman up and t
ell her it was the children’s bedtime, or put the little ones to bed herself and let the nursemaid wake naturally.

  Quietly, Jacob walked to his sister and snatched her doll from her arms. Willa lunged at him without a cry and her teeth went for his leg. He jumped aside, his hand at her hair, restraining her. All done in silence.

  ‘Give the doll back to her,’ Melina commanded. He did, shoving it between her mouth and his leg.

  ‘She bites hard,’ he said. He stepped back, staring at his sister. ‘Don’t you, Ratface?’

  ‘Jacob. Your sister has a name. Use it.’

  Willa took her baby and hit him with it, and he grabbed the doll’s arm and held on. Willa tugged the other direction. He pulled at the doll once and then released it. ‘You can have her back, Willa, Lady Ratface.’

  He smiled at Melina.

  ‘Jacob. It is nearly your bedtime and you must behave if you wish to stay up any longer.’ Melina stood.

  He shrugged. ‘Willa likes it.’

  Melina kept her voice stern. ‘I do not. Do not do it again. The two of you are not to fight. Brothers must be kind to their sister.’

  He nodded. ‘I am. She likes hitting me with the doll and I like calling her names.’

  Warrington opened the door and walked in, making all the noise of a spirit, but Jacob saw him.

  The boy jumped from the floor and whirled to his father. He gave a bow and schooled himself into the manner of an Englishman. Warrington reached out and tousled Jacob’s hair, laughing when the child used both hands to straighten it.

  ‘I need to show you the picture I drew. It’s of Uncle’s ship,’ Jacob said, then scrambled to pull a paper from inside a book. He unfolded the drawing and handed it to his father. ‘You can have it,’ he said. ‘I’m drawing another one.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Warrington took the picture, pulling it closer to his face. ‘We must save it. Tell your nursery maid to start collecting your best drawings. I will have them bound into a book and we can look at it together.’

  Jacob smiled. ‘I’m going to sail with Uncle—Captain Ben, when I am bigger.’