He nodded. “I am home now, my darling, and home to stay.”
With those comforting words—spoken with a hint of guilt and regret I did not yet understand—he wrapped his arm around my waist and walked up the veranda steps with me. We went straight to the nursery to see the children.
o0o
My husband and I had been apart for six months, and upon his return, I came to believe that the old adage was true: absence does make the heart grow fonder. Our first night together was as passionate and exciting as our wedding night had been, and for the next seven days, Sebastian did not leave our home to attend to any business matters or travel anywhere beyond the perimeter of our ocean property. Nor did we invite anyone for dinner or cards or any such activities that required us to pay attention to others. All we wanted was to be together, just the two of us with our children, and to quietly grieve for our recent hardships. We wanted to spend every waking moment together as a family with Nathan and Amelie. We took them for long strolls—Amalie in the pram and Nathan toddling about. We played games with them in the afternoons, went sailing at sunset, and made intimate, tender love after dark.
There was a time I had believed I could not be any happier than I had been in those early days of our marriage, but I soon learned that even in the wake of sorrow, love and joy could prevail. And though I was never cured of my grief completely that first week, the pleasure and comfort that my husband brought home with him dimmed my feelings of loss. Soon, I began to believe that in time, my pain would diminish, and the sun would come out again.
Sadly, however, not long after Sebastian’s return, something in me sensed another round of dark clouds and thunder rumbling on the horizon, threatening to roll in from somewhere across the sea. I don’t know why I felt such foreboding, but I was reminded of Mr. Williams’ words that day at his kitchen table when I suggested that life couldn’t always be roses and sunshine.
“Sometimes it’s dark clouds and hurricanes,” he had replied.
I was about to discover that not even the most wonderful life could be absolutely free of stormy weather.
Chapter Thirty-four
“You’ve been home for a month,” I said as I slid onto Sebastian’s lap at the dinner table, where it was just the two of us, sipping wine by candlelight after the dishes had been cleared. “We’ve been living like a couple of hermits, which has been wonderful in many ways, but perhaps it’s time we hosted a dinner party. Or a musical evening. It’s been ages since we had the Danforths over, and last night, I noticed that their summer house was all lit up. It’s odd that they are here this time of year. If they are, we must invite them over.”
Sebastian kissed me on the lips and shifted me to sit more comfortably upon his lap. “Why must we invite anyone over, when all we need is each other?”
I laughed and kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his ears. “I agree that we are more than enough for each other, but the poor neighbors, going without our splendid social evenings for so long. We must get back in the saddle and provide them with entertainment.”
He chuckled again. “I vote we go to bed, get thoroughly undressed, and discuss it in the morning.”
My body tingled with anticipation. “You are a terrible influence when I am trying to be an upstanding leader of local society. We must not allow ourselves to sink into an oblivion of private activities, where we soon lose sight of what exists outside these walls. Please, Sebastian. I need this. I’ve been living too long in the shadow of loss. It’s time we did something fun. I want to laugh again.”
He pushed a lock of hair away from my face and stared deeply into my eyes. “I would love to host a dinner party,” he said. “But I doubt the Danforths are here. They never come in the winter. I suspect their servants were just testing the lights. Or perhaps hosting a party of their own. You know what they say: While the cat’s away, the mice will play.”
“Fine,” I said. “I will come up with some other form of entertainment. And though I adore Mr. Harvey, I suggest you make good on your promise and invite Mr. Williams, so that he may enjoy an evening out, without guilt, as long as Mr. Harvey is back to man the light. Do you remember how he jested about that when we visited the lighthouse a few years back? We have never had him over. Not once.”
Sebastian bowed his head in defeat. “I forgot about that. But the poor lad won’t know a dinner fork from a dessert fork. He won’t feel comfortable.”
“We will make him feel at ease, because we are excellent hosts. Please say yes, Sebastian. I feel a terrible need to start living again. I want our old life back.”
My husband kissed the side of my neck. “All I want is to see you happy and satisfied. Will you be happy if I say yes and give you permission to order the most expensive champagne we can get our hands on? And perhaps caviar?”
“I will most decidedly be happy,” I replied, “but I will only be satisfied when you take me upstairs and remind me why I married you.”
Sebastian threw his head back and laughed. Soon I was being carried up the wide, ornamental staircase, praying that one of the servants wouldn’t catch a glimpse of my skirts flying up over my kicking legs.
o0o
As it turned out, the Danforths had indeed returned to Cape Elizabeth during the deep chill of late November, when ice began to form on the roads and winter weather was a constant threat. I wouldn’t have known they were in town, except that the mystery was niggling at me. Why would their house be so brightly lit if they were in New York? Was their butler secretly running a gentleman’s club or some other operation on the sly? Concerned about the situation, I marched up to the front door one afternoon, and knocked.
The butler answered and informed me that Mrs. Danforth was indeed at home. I was surprised to find her there, and she was equally surprised to see me. She offered her condolences over the death of my mother, and invited me in for tea. I took the liberty of asking her to join us the following Saturday for dinner at 8:00, and I requested that she and her husband honor us with a musical performance after the meal.
Knowing of my mother’s recent passing, Mrs. Danforth respectfully asked what sort of tone might be right for the evening. Should it be celebratory or reflective and mournful?
After an intimate conversation about my travails during the past six months—where I expressed far more than I intended about my loneliness and frustration due to my lengthy separation from Sebastian—I left it open to her and Mr. Danforth to determine an appropriate program. Perhaps a mixture of lively tunes and sentimental favorites?
She agreed that that would be an appropriate choice, then rose to her feet and kissed me on both cheeks before walking me to the door.
o0o
Our musical evening was a resounding success, and for the first time in months, I felt almost like my old self, eager to socialize and laugh and engage in interesting conversations with people I hadn’t seen in a long while.
Mr. Williams attended as well, and though he could not, like his uncle, regale us with stories from the sea, he certainly had many interesting tales about daily life as a lighthouse keeper.
After dinner, Mr. Danforth—who had been conspicuously quiet all evening—sat down at the piano to accompany his wife, who brought tears to my eyes when she sang Lorena—one of my mother’s favorite ballads. Had she known?
Seated in a chair at the back of the room, I bowed my head and discreetly wiped a tear from my cheek. When I lifted my gaze, I locked eyes with Mr. Williams, who had been watching me during the performance. He nodded his head, to let me know he understood and sympathized.
Afterward, when the audience began to applaud, I noticed his chair was empty. Fearful that he felt uncomfortable—as Sebastian had predicted he would—I rose and ventured out to the main hall.
Not finding him there, I checked the dining room and library, but Mr. Williams was nowhere to be found. The last place I thought to look for him was the veranda—for it was late November and most of the guests preferred to crowd around the warmth of the
fire—but there he was, bent forward with his forearms resting on the balustrade, his hands clasped together while he gazed out at the cold, dark sea.
“Mr. Williams.” I opened the door to join him and hugged my arms about myself as the chill touched my flesh. “What are you doing out here?”
“I needed a moment,” he replied, turning to face me. “But you shouldn’t be out here. It’s freezing.”
“Yes, but that makes you the pot calling the kettle black, doesn’t it?”
He smiled. “Indeed. Please, take my jacket.” He shrugged out of it and swung it around my shoulders. I relished the warmth from his body, deep in the weave of the fabric.
“Thank you,” I replied, “but now you will be cold.”
“I am the son of a fisherman,” he proudly replied with a grin that reached his eyes. “This is nothing.”
“You may be the son of a fisherman,” I argued, “but you are also a gentleman, straight to the bone. Thank you for the jacket.”
He watched me uncertainly for a moment, then turned to look out at the moonlight reflecting off the ripples on the water.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked him.
“I am. Dinner was wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted so many interesting flavors in one sitting. I ate things I didn’t know the names of. No idea what they were.”
I chuckled. “Our cook is very talented.”
“And what about you?” he asked, turning to look at me. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
I thought about how I’d become sentimental during Mrs. Danforth’s rendition of Lorena, and took a breath. “I am, even though I did feel some melancholy earlier. But you, of all people, must understand…”
“Yes.” He gazed out at the dark water again.
“I am just glad Sebastian is back and life can finally return to normal,” I added. “I will be glad to put this year behind me. Although, certain things still don’t feel quite as they used to.”
“How so?” Mr. Williams asked.
I gathered his jacket more snugly about my shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. Something felt off tonight. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Try.”
I turned around to lean against the balustrade and face the house. “You are going to think I’m foolish, but at dinner, Mr. Danforth mentioned that he took Mrs. Danforth overseas on a business trip last summer, and they visited Paris, London and Rome. I was a bit…oh, I don’t know.”
“Tell me,” Mr. Williams insisted.
I exhaled sharply. “What hurts me is that her husband took her with him on a luxurious business trip to Europe, while I was forced to stay behind. I realize it wasn’t Sebastian’s fault that I had to remain here to care for my ailing mother, but I am jealous for some reason. It’s petty of me. I don’t know why I am confessing this to you, Mr. Williams. You must think me a spoiled child.”
“No, Mrs. Fraser. I could never think that. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.”
I felt my cheeks flush with heat and worried suddenly that I had been mistaken about his feelings for me. That he was not simply a friend I could rely upon to listen to my most personal, emotional confessions. I began to worry that he felt more than friendship toward me, and that I was encouraging him.
I hadn’t wanted to think such a thing before, because I enjoyed our conversations very much. I did not wish to feel compelled to avoid him in the future. That would be absolutely…
Absolutely what?
Tragic.
I hoped I was mistaken. He was only trying to be kind.
But still…
I looked away. “You shouldn’t say such things.”
“Why not?”
“Because they aren’t proper. They sound like a flirtation. I might even go so far as to say a seduction, and that could cause trouble, Mr. Williams.”
He shook his head at me, as if I should know better.
I felt suddenly embarrassed and ashamed of what I had said and what I was implying. Seduction? We were friends, and he had paid me a compliment. That was all.
Please, let it be all.
I let out a long, heavy sigh and endeavored to change the subject completely. “Oh, my dear Mr. Williams. I don’t know what I am saying tonight. My thoughts are all in a jumble. Perhaps I’ve had too much wine. And I don’t know why I am worrying about things that happened in the past. Things that cannot be changed. But I did find it odd that Sebastian was so against hosting this party tonight.” I turned to face the water again, and bent forward to rest my forearms on the rail, mirroring Mr. Williams’ stance.
“He didn’t even want to invite Mrs. Danforth to sing,” I continued. “He tried to convince me that she and her husband weren’t here in Cape Elizabeth, when they were. She hasn’t graced us with her lovely singing voice in almost two years. Now I am wondering if there was some disagreement between my husband and Mr. Danforth. A business conflict perhaps. Because Mr. Danforth was not his usual friendly self at the dinner table this evening. He was silent and reserved. Almost standoffish. Did you notice? I felt it created some tension in the room. Or was it just me? Perhaps I am being foolish again.”
Mr. Williams stared at me for a moment, then he gave me an apologetic look. “I should probably go.” He turned away from me and started off, then seemed to realize his social blunder and halted. He faced me again and bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Fraser. It was a delightful evening. Please say goodnight to your husband and thank him for his hospitality.” He turned and descended the veranda steps.
“Wait!” I was bewildered and flabbergasted. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
I followed him down the steps, my shoes tapping quickly as I went.
Mr. Williams let out a heavy sigh and turned around—almost as if it were a terrible inconvenience to do so. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fraser. You know how I feel about you, but I don’t belong here. I’m a simple man. This isn’t my world.”
“You live simply, but you are not simple,” I argued, realizing he had walked off without asking for his jacket back. I pulled it off my shoulders and handed it to him. “You’re as brilliant and worldly as any person in that drawing room. Just because you don’t wear a silk neckcloth or sip single malt scotch in the evenings, that does not make you any less worthy of my friendship, or anyone else’s. Please do not go.”
“I really should,” he replied, slipping his arms into his jacket. “Again, thank Captain Fraser for me. And tell him I was…not feeling so well.” Mr. Williams then surprised me by reaching for my hand. He raised it up and kissed it. The touch of his lips lingered for a moment, and I felt slightly breathless. “Good night, Mrs. Fraser.”
“Good night,” I said as he turned away and strode off down the driveway, melting slowly into the darkness.
A chill came over me suddenly and I saw my breath, like puffs of rising smoke that disappeared instantly on the air. I folded my arms at my chest to keep warm as I whirled around, climbed the veranda steps and hurried back inside.
Later that night, when Sebastian slipped into bed beside me, I was still cold. I curled into him and rested my cheek on his shoulder. “It was fun tonight, don’t you think? I thought everyone had a good time.”
“It was a great success.” I waited for him to say something more, but he was quiet.
Swallowing uneasily, I lifted my cheek and rested my chin on my hands to look up at him. “I didn’t know that the Danforths were in Europe over the summer. Mr. Danforth said they went to London. Did you see them while they were there?”
Sebastian ran his thumb back and forth across my shoulder. “Yes, once or twice at a few social gatherings.”
“I’m surprised you never mentioned it in any of your letters. How long were they there?”
His eyebrows lifted, as if he had to think about it. “Oh, I don’t know. A couple of weeks, maybe? As I said, I only saw them a few times. I was very busy, trying to get the company back on track.”
/> He yawned and rolled to his side to turn the key in the lamp. Even after the flame sputtered and went out, the room remained bathed in the flickering, golden light of the fire in the hearth.
It was nearly three in the morning, and I thought perhaps Sebastian might wish to go to sleep right away, but he slid close to me, took me into his arms and whispered in my ear how much he loved and treasured me….
Chapter Thirty-five
A few days later, Sebastian traveled to South Portland to meet with one of his captains about his oldest and most prized steamship, which was in need of a full refurbishment. He rose early and left before dawn.
A light snow began to fall by mid-morning—the first snowfall of the year—so Nanny and I took the children outside to play in it. Though there was only an inch or two on the ground, we had a marvelous time building tiny snowmen until Nathan got snow on his wrists and wailed in agony. I took his hand to lead him inside and change his mittens, but stopped at the bottom of the veranda steps when I spotted something shiny in the garden.
“Wait, sweetheart,” I said as I let go of his hand and moved to pick it up. Wearing my black leather gloves, I brushed the snow off it and held it in my palm. “Look what I found. Someone lost an earring.”
I recognized it immediately. It was the emerald and diamond set Mrs. Danforth had worn to our dinner party. It must have fallen off as she descended the stairs at the end of the night, perhaps when she was gathering her fur mantle tightly about her shoulders.
I was reminded of how grateful I was to Mr. Williams that day in the keeper’s cottage when I was unaware I had lost an earring and he had found it for me.
“This belongs to one of our guests from the party the other night,” I said to Nathan. “I must see that it is returned. But for now, let’s go inside and get you a dry pair of mittens so we can build some more snowmen.” I took hold of his hand and led him up the steps.
o0o
Later that afternoon, when the children went for their naps, I asked John, one of the footmen, to take me to the Danforth’s house in the small Stanhope buggy. By then the sky was blue and the sun had come out, but it was still wickedly cold. The snow had not melted and the water was peppered with whitecaps, so I dressed warmly with a fur scarf and hat, and covered my legs with a thick woolen blanket.
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