by Susanna Ives
“Here we are,” Theo said as he helped Emily off the horse. “My surprise.”
The ladies remained silent, not seeing anything beyond woods, weeds, and stones. A mysterious smile played on Theo’s lips.
Emily shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Come now, look this way.” He pointed beyond the trees. Helena followed the line of his finger. Between the branches, a vista of Snowdonia opened. Beyond the craggily green mountains rose massive stony gray peaks, strewn with snow. The vaulting earth soared into a heavy mantel of steely clouds.
Helena felt that same awe at the overwhelming vastness of land and sky as she did the day she had balanced on the barn rafters.
“Do you see the third peak from the left?” Theo clasped her finger and pointed it toward the mountain. “That’s Snowdon.”
“From here it looks so much smaller than the others,” Helena observed.
“Well, it’s not,” he said. “I can say that from my personal experience of having climbed it.”
She chuckled.
He gave her light, a quick kiss on her cheek. “Now, my love, imagine if all these brambles were gone.” He gestured around them. “Imagine a summer cottage with a wide veranda and roses climbing up the posts. We could create a small lawn for our children to play on, maybe edge it with lavender, columbine, whatever you want. This will be your garden. Helena’s garden.”
“My own garden? You are giving me a garden?”
A smile stole across his lips. “I know it’s not diamonds or r—”
“Oh, be quiet.” She circled her arms around him and pressed her head to his chest. “I would love it above all things.” She added in a whisper, “I love you.” His hand drifted up and down her back. She would take her husband to this tucked-away garden and make love to him. The wind would blow over their bodies and through the trees, making that low, comforting, hushing sough.
“This will be a delightful garden, and I’m sure you will have many, many children to play in it, since you can’t seem to stop touching each other.”
“Mama!” Megan cried.
He stepped away from Helena. “Let’s eat then. Megan, can you lift the blanket from the basket?”
They spread the blanket on the ground, set about plates and forks, and dined on cold mutton, biscuits, and cream. Helena noticed Theo hardly ate. He would span the landscape with his hand, his eyes squinting as if he were looking far away, and then ask her opinion about different plants and garden arrangements. Half the time, she didn’t recognize the Latin names. She was content just to observe him, the way the sun lit up the gray in his eyes, how his powerful hands fingered the soil, the acceleration of his speech when talking about this or that oriental tree he could plant.
For Helena, the picnic could have stretched on and on. She never wanted to leave this moment. But as the sun began to descend from its zenith, the clouds dipped lower and the air grew dense with moisture.
Theo rose to his feet and sniffed the air. “The rain is coming. Let’s get Mrs. Pengwern back, else Efa will have my head.”
∞∞∞
The rain held off long enough for Theo to get Emily, her daughter, and Helena home safely. Now he was alone again. Away from Helena, his despondent thoughts returned. He was edgy and unsettled. The wind blew the rain against the windows. A low roar echoed through the corridors of his home.
He locked himself in his study. While Branwen dozed at his feet, Theo dipped his pen into the ink still and composed a letter.
Dear Father,
On this coming Monday, I will solemnize my wedding vows with Miss Helena Gillingham. Since leaving London, she came to reside at my neighbor’s home. Although our acquaintance has been brief, I feel I have loved her forever. I know our union will cause censure in society, but I hope not in the hearts of my father, stepmother, and brothers. My affections for Miss Gillingham will not be dissuaded by society’s condemnation or ridicule, nor by my family’s disapproval. She is my soul’s companion.
I wish to give her as a wedding ring my mother’s sapphire and diamond ring. May I press upon you to send it to me?
I hope you will visit us in Wales so I might introduce my wife into her larger family. I am confident that you will come to cherish her as I do. Unfortunately, given the circumstances of Mr. Gillingham’s death and the subsequent investigation, I ask that you keep the contents of this letter in confidence.
Your dutiful son,
Theodotus
∞∞∞
The rain continued into the night. Theo couldn’t rest, his pulse raced, his mind wandered from any book he picked up. Finally, he drifted off to sleep, only to bolt up hours later to reach for his rifle. His fingers dug into the mattress as he cried out, thinking he had lost his Minié in the mud. Then the legions of Russian soldiers slowly receded into the darkness of his room.
He was alone.
His heart pounded in his ears, and the rain pinged on the window. He lay back and forced his mind to think about the way Helena’s chest rose when he kissed her. The rush of her breath against his cheek, how she writhed under him as he moved inside her. Through the night, he revisited the memory of moving in her in the woods by the tulip garden.
Tomorrow he would go to Bangor and acquire a marriage license. In a few days’ time, he would bring her to this bed and let her love chase away his nightmares. As the sky turned gray at the break of a rainy morning, Theo drifted back to sleep.
When he woke again, the sun had been up for many hours, and the rain had ceased but still dripped from the trees. He hissed a curse. It was too late to head to Bangor for the marriage license. He washed with cold water, then shaved and dressed. As he was knotting his necktie, Branwen bolted up, as she did whenever Megan was near, and began whimpering and pawing at the door.
“I know how you feel.” He let the dog out. Branwen shot down the hall. He jogged after her and found Megan and Helena in the entrance hall, pulling off their gloves and cloaks and handing them to Efa.
Helena’s face lit up in a gentle smile that contrasted with her severe mourning weeds.
“It’s as if the party didn’t occur.” She gestured about her. “Your house is back to the way it was.”
“Except for a few things.” He flashed her an intimate look as he took her hand and kissed her fingers. A soft blush broke over her cheeks and nose. He kept her hand in his and led her to a parlor, which now felt empty after the last evening when it was filled with music and swirling bodies.
Megan was still playing with Branwen in the hall, so Theo stole a kiss. When Helena was away from him, his imagination couldn’t quite capture the sensation of her presence, how it both excited and calmed him. He drew her close and whispered, “You can’t know how wild I am for you. I can’t wait a week for a bloody wedding dress.”
“If you’re going to cuddle, I’ll take Branwen outside.” Megan now leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest.
Helena tried to extract herself from Theo’s hold. “We’re not cuddling!” she cried, her face flushed.
“No, we’re frolicking,” he explained with a devilish grin. “Why don’t you come back in about a half-hour?”
Megan rolled her eyes. “Follow me, Branwen. Theo and Helena want to be naughty.” She and the hound trotted out.
He turned to his bride-to-be and kissed her jaw, her chin, her lips, letting his hand drift up from her waist to her breasts.
“There’s a carriage here,” Megan said. She had returned and stood in the doorway.
Theo leaped away from Helena. “What? Why are the Rees here?”
Beside Theo and the reverend, who enjoyed lumbering about the village despite his size, only the Rees’s had a carriage.
“It’s some gentlemen,” Megan replied. “I’ve never seen them before.”
Theo strode to the window. Through the thick, wavy red glass, he could see two men in dark woolen coats and top hats conversing with the driver of a hired coach. The more powerfully bui
lt of the gentlemen raised his head, and the wind tossed the rust colored hair poking out beneath his hat brim. Theo recognized the pock-scarred face of Scotland Yard’s Officer Robert Wilson.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered before he could stop himself. Megan and Helena eyed him with alarm.
“I need to take care of something,” he said, almost barking his words. “Remain in the parlor.” He stalked out, shutting the door behind him.
Efa was already waiting outside to take their coats.
“Mr. Mallory.” Wilson nodded to Theo. He wore a delicate, polite smile that was at odds with his rugged face. “You have not replied to our letters, so we felt obliged to call. May I introduce Mr. Middleton, a solicitor with the Bank of England. He has been working diligently with Whitehall on the Gillingham case.”
Theo didn’t return any pleasantry, but ripped into Wilson before he could tamp down his rage. “I thought I made it clear that our conversation was in confidence.”
The attorney glanced at Wilson. His congenial face faltered for a moment. He was a trim man, with intelligent eyes and neatly groomed silvering hair. He projected an easy, disarming charm, the kind cultivated from years of negotiating.
“I’m pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Mallory,” he said smoothly. “We are quite indebted to you. Let me assure you, your name has been protected.”
“How many people know?” Theo demanded.
“We sent word from Wrexham of our intentions to visit,” Mr. Middleton continued without acknowledging Theo’s question. “But I see we have preceded our letter.”
Theo stared at the men. Rage flexed his muscles. He couldn’t very well turn them away, but he didn’t want them anywhere near Helena.
“Mr. Mallory, for the sake of our nation, it is important that we talk,” Wilson said, the hard edge of unquestioned authority under his voice.
Theo wanted to tell him to piss off. Instead, he swallowed his anger. “Let us go to my library.”
Efa collected the visitors’ coats in the hall as they made polite conversation about their journey. Theo ignored them. The parlor door was open and Helena stood just inside. She stared at Wilson with widened, alarmed eyes.
Theo grabbed the knob and shut the door again, praying Wilson didn’t catch a glimpse of her.
“This way, gentlemen,” Theo said, motioning them to the stairs. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he could only catch snatches of the gentlemen’s conversation.
“This is my first sojourn to Wales,” Mr. Middleton said. “Simply lovely country. I daresay I shall have to bring my family back in the summer to see Snowdon.”
Theo knew he was supposed to make some gesture of hospitality, perhaps suggest a site to tour or invite the man and his family to stay in his home, but he remained silent.
“What an unusual house you have,” the solicitor remarked as they continued up the floors. “Quite whimsical. Is this your work?”
“No.” Theo opened the study door. He gestured to the wing chairs. “Please have a seat.” He then crossed to the mantle and retrieved his cigarette case. “What is the reason for this visit, gentlemen?” He lit a cigarette. He could feel Wilson staring at him with eyes like razor blades. The man was trying to probe into his mind. Theo sucked from his cigarette and stared back at him.
“You have received several letters of an urgent nature regarding Mr. Gillingham.” The attorney sat with his legs crossed. “You know Scotland Yard, the Bank of England, and Parliament have been trying to recover as much of the man’s assets as possible. Did you not receive these letters?”
Theo shrugged. “Must have been lost in the mail.”
The two visitors exchanged glances. Officer Wilson reached into his coat and removed a small black leather notebook that he didn’t have the morning he met with Theo in London. He opened to a bookmarked page. “At our first meeting, you claimed you had traced down at least seven hundred thousand pounds that Mr. Gillingham had invested in illegal holdings.”
“I don’t recall. That was months ago.”
“You had brought many documents and letters,” Wilson said. “You offered to give them to me.”
“And you turned them down,” Theo reminded him.
Wilson’s features screwed with annoyance. He slid forward in his seat. Middleton placed a restraining hand on Wilson’s arm. “I’m terribly sorry for the initial confusion,” the attorney said. “I ask if we may kindly have those documents now.”
“I no longer have them.”
“Pardon?” Middleton uncrossed his legs.
Theo flicked his ash into the grate. “I destroyed the documents.”
“Mr. Mallory, you destroyed evidence vital to the financial welfare of our nation!” Wilson thundered in that voice he must have used to intimidate criminals. Had he used it on Helena?
Theo forced himself to remain still and kept his expression empty. He drew from his cigarette and then gazed at the officer through the screen of smoke. Wilson’s eyes narrowed.
The men were silent for several long beats.
“I say, Mr. Mallory, is that a Minié rifle?” The solicitor rose and strolled to where the rifle was mounted on the wall. “Did you use this in Crimea?”
“Yes.”
“A horrible affair,” Middleton said, shaking his head. “Do you not display your Victoria Cross?”
“No.”
The attorney traced his finger down the barrel. “I remember reading that you suffered a nervous condition when you returned from Crimea, and that you visited a host of doctors who were unable to help you.” He spoke in a casual, cheerful tone, as if he were discussing a cricket match. “I understood you were to be placed in an asylum, so naturally I was pleased to find you were quite well and thriving in Wales.”
Theo knew he was being toyed with and didn’t reply.
Undaunted, the solicitor switched his attention to the window, changing his tactics.
“Good God, Wilson! Have you seen this? Come look at Mr. Mallory’s gardens.”
Wilson gave a cursory glance. “Very nice,” he said flatly.
“Very nice, indeed!” the solicitor boomed. “Mr. Mallory, you are a talented man. I believe London has an inaccurate perception of you. Why not come to Whitehall and explain for yourself what you found against Mr. Gillingham? Redeem yourself in society’s eyes?”
“I didn’t realize I needed redeeming.”
Middleton nodded as if he had received a deserved blow. “A poor choice of words. Forgive me. Please come back with us to London and meet at Whitehall. We won’t use but a few days of your time.”
“I can’t. I’m getting married next week.”
Middleton’s expression didn’t change except to widen his smile. “Well, congratulations. Your fiancée is very lucky.” He waved his hand. “I was about to lure you to London with a promise of an introduction to my daughter. But alas, do bring your bride to London. She can see some plays. I’ll have my wife take her around to all the best shops.”
“My fiancée doesn’t enjoy London.”
The solicitor released a weary breath and held open his palms. “We are not adversaries, Mr. Mallory. I do not understand what has happened to change your attitude towards us. Did you not come to Officer Wilson with documentation of Mr. Gillingham’s crimes?”
Theo paused. “Yes.”
“Then, sir, if you no longer have the documents, could you oblige us with a testimony at
Whitehall?” Middleton beseeched.
Several nasty responses waited on Theo’s tongue, but he knew the best course was to get the men out of his house. He turned and tossed his cigarette into the grate. “I’m sorry, but I’m unable to help you.”
“Sir, the enormity of Mr. Gillingham’s theft rises above our personal desires.” All Middleton’s former politeness was draining away. “You have a duty to your country.”
Theo wheeled around. “I’ve done my duty to your country, sir!” he barked.
Middleton’s face bleached. This
time, it was Wilson’s turn to calm his companion.
“Thank you, Mr. Mallory,” Wilson said coolly. “Come, Middleton, let us waste no more of the good man’s time. If we hurry, we can catch the train out of Bangor this evening.”
The solicitor opened his mouth to argue but changed his mind. “We are not enemies, Mr. Mallory.” He shook his head. “I beg you will reconsider.”
∞∞∞
Helena paced Theo’s parlor, scary thoughts pervading her mind. Megan sat on the floor, rubbing Branwen’s belly and eying Helena nervously.
“Who are those men?” she asked. “Why is everyone upset?”
“The large, red-headed one is a Scotland Yard officer. He was present the day my father died and later directed the inventory of my home.”
“Do you think he is here because of your father?” Megan asked.
“I don’t know. Do you think Theo could have…”Stop! Don’t even think these horrid thoughts. Yet, she couldn’t stem them. Did Theo have something to do with her father’s downfall? After all, the news spread just one night after the ball in London when he chided her for her callous treatment of others.
“But if the men wanted to know about your father, they wouldn’t have come to Theo’s house,” Megan reasoned. “They would have come to you.”
“I’m being ridiculous.” Helena wrapped her arms about herself. “I fret about everything now. I can never relax for long, because I think something terrible is going to happen again.” Theo would never be so cruel as to ask for her hand, make love to her, if he had any responsibility in her father’s ruin. He was a good man, the best she had ever known. She should be ashamed to harbor these hateful suspicions about him.
