Secret Promise

by Marin McGinnis

  Edward set his plate aside and reclined again. He closed his eyes. “I was bound for Virginia, as you know, delivering the ship we had built for Father’s friend there. Father thought that even though there were signs of trouble brewing in America we could deliver the ship and return home before the war started. But he was wrong.”

  Edward opened his eyes and glanced at Dora, who was watching him, concern etched upon her face.

  “We were blown off course and finally landed in Boston six weeks late. The ship was very badly damaged, and the repairs took months. I thought about returning home, leaving the ship for the captain to deliver, but I couldn’t risk Father’s disappointment. I thought the fact he was not responding to my letters was evidence enough of his displeasure.”

  “Oh, Edward.” Dora clasped his hand, tears welling in her eyes.

  “By the time we were ready to leave for Virginia, most of the Southern states had seceded. I thought we were safe, though, as Virginia was not one of them. But Virginia joined the Confederacy during the voyage, and when we arrived in the Chesapeake Bay, we were accused of running the Union blockade, and all of us were arrested, accused of being Confederate sympathizers. It didn’t help that my name was Mason.”

  Dora looked puzzled. “Why should that have mattered?”

  Edward was aghast. “Did you not read the newspapers?”

  Theodora gave him a disdainful look. “No, Edward, not regularly. Only when I could sneak them away from Lucien.”

  Edward’s cheeks warmed. “Sorry. James Mason was a Confederate diplomat, expelled from the U.S. Congress and sent to England as a representative of the Confederate States of America. He was aboard a British ship when it was seized by the Union, and he was thrown in prison. It almost got Britain involved in the war. I used to wonder whether I would have been home sooner, if it had.”

  “Thank you for the history lesson, Edward,” Dora said drily. “Please do get on with the part of the tale that explains where you have been.”

  “I was also thrown into prison.” At Dora’s gasp he felt somewhat vindicated. “I spent the war there.”

  Theodora shuddered, her distress palpable.

  “It, uh, wasn’t completely horrible, Dora, I promise. I was sent to the north of the country, to an island prison camp. When the war finally ended, I was released, but I had no money. I sent letters to you, to our parents. To Anna.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking of her. Her smile, her fiery red hair and matching temper. He smiled to himself, then he shook his head to clear the image. “There was no reply.”

  Theodora clutched his hand. “Oh, Edward, if I had known…”

  “What could you have done?” His voice was harsher than he intended, and Dora paled. His tone softened. “There’s little point to such musings, Dora. In any case, I made my way to Boston, where I was able to find work on a ship. Unfortunately I didn’t realize the captain planned to travel to the Far East before traveling to England. It took longer to get home than I would have liked. But I am here now, and that is what matters.” He patted her hand as he would a child. This new frail Dora worried him, and he resolved to end this picnic and get her back to her husband.

  As if he had read Edward’s thoughts, Jonathan appeared, coming through the garden toward them. Edward stood and assisted Dora to her feet.

  “Hello, darling,” Dora said cheerily, although her tone was at odds with the tense expression in her face.

  Jonathan kissed his wife’s cheek. “Are you well, my love?” He scowled at Edward.

  “I am fine. Edward has been telling me of his time in America, which was a bit distressing.” She took a deep breath, tears once again threatening to spill. “But as he says, he is here now.”

  Edward cleared his throat, feeling awkward. He handed Dora off to her husband, who wrapped an arm around her. “Dora, I can’t stay. I need to get home.”

  Her face fell, and she leaned against her husband. “But there’s nothing there!”

  Edward gave her a stony look. “Anna is there.”

  “But surely she has moved on from her girlish infatuation with you. Your family is here now.”

  “There is something you don’t know, Dora.” He met her eyes then, so similar to his own. “We were wed. Before I left.”

  “What? When? You were eighteen!” Theodora’s shocked expression almost made him laugh. Her husband looked from her to him, slightly bemused.

  “Yes, I was. We went to Scotland, just across the border. We handfasted.”

  Theodora was silent for a moment, obviously thinking. “So that’s where you went! Father was decidedly annoyed with you for disappearing for hours the day before we left for London. And you took the carriage.”

  “I bribed the coachman with a bottle of Father’s brandy.”

  Dora rolled her eyes. “You always were incorrigible. When were you going to tell us?”

  “We were going to have a church ceremony at home when I came back from America and you returned from your honeymoon.” He cleared his throat. “Obviously that never happened.”

  “Was the marriage even legal?” Jonathan asked. “Doesn’t a handfasting require witnesses? Were there any?”

  Edward shrugged, feeling about ten years old. He had wondered the same thing himself, but in his adoration of Anna, he had pushed those thoughts aside. “I have no idea. Our stable hand told me that even though handfasting required witnesses in England, in Scotland it did not. That’s why we went across the border.”

  Jonathan laughed, and Theodora’s eyes widened, her lips curving into an incredulous smile. “You took legal advice from the stable hand? What on earth is wrong with you?”

  “He was Scottish!” he protested. “He married in a handfast ceremony. He certainly knew more than I did.”

  “Well, we can look into the matter,” Jonathan said sensibly, although he was still grinning. He turned to Theodora. “But for now, you seem tired, my dear, and I think we should lie down for a bit.”

  Theodora gave her husband a secret smile, and Edward blushed. Really, there were some things one should not know about one’s sister.

  “I am going home, Dora. I left things with Anna…unresolved.” He opened his mouth to tell her about Zachary and then closed it again. He somehow didn’t think it was the right time to mention his son; she would never let him leave, or worse, she’d want to come with him. “And I have retaken control of the shipyards, from Mr. Weston. Do you remember him?” Dora nodded. “I don’t trust him. I need to get back.”

  She clasped his hands in her own and squeezed tightly. “I understand, Edward, I do, but I am disappointed. You must write to me every day, so I can be sure you haven’t been captured by pirates.”

  Edward laughed. “In Northumberland?”

  “Well, you never did tell me how you got that scar. Who knows what other trouble you can get into?”

  The fact that she could joke about his experiences made him glad he hadn’t told her everything, and confident that she would be just fine with her new husband and family.

  “Hmm. Never you mind. You must write to me when the baby comes, and I will be here straightaway.”

  Dora rubbed her swollen belly and smiled serenely. “Hopefully he will wait.”

  Jonathan chuckled. “He?”

  Dora nudged him with her shoulder. “I have a feeling.”

  “I was rather hoping for a girl. One who looks just like you,” he said, earning himself a poke in the ribs.

  Edward smiled. He was quite sure now that all would be well, at least for her. For himself, he wasn’t so sure.

  ****

  Edward was back in Wallsend by nightfall. He was still reeling from the excitement of seeing Dora, but happy she was so well-loved. He had demanded that Caxton contact him immediately when the baby was on its way, and the man had promised. Edward wasn’t sure whether Caxton liked him or simply tolerated him because Edward’s return made Dora happy. He supposed it didn’t really matter.

  He walked past the pub and st
opped. There was a trio of musicians playing, and the smell of roasted lamb wafted through the open door. Through the window he could see Anna. She moved gracefully between the tables, balancing trays of food and chatting easily with her patrons. Light from the candles glinted off her brilliant red hair, giving the effect of a fiery halo. Although it still stung that she had never told Zachary about him, on some level he didn’t blame her. What he didn’t understand is why she hadn’t told her parents that they had wed, and that the child was, for all intents and purposes, legitimate.

  She glanced out the window and saw him. He thought about fleeing, then her lips parted in a silent exclamation, and her face brightened. He watched her excuse herself, walk toward him, out the door. He could see hesitation, insecurity, in her eyes as she stood before him, arms folded in front of her to stave off the evening’s chill.

  “You’re back.”

  “Yes.”

  “I brought you scones.”

  “You did? When?”

  “Yesterday.” Her gaze was soft as she looked up at him. “But you weren’t there. Mr. Caldwell told me that you had gone to Durham.” She chewed on her lower lip, then looked away. “I thought you were angry with me.”

  He tipped up her chin with his index finger and forced her to look at him. “Why did you think that?”

  “Because I hadn’t told Zachary about you, never told him who his father was.”

  “I was a bit angry, but more…hurt, I suppose. But that’s not why I left. I learned that my sister was in Durham.”

  Her eyes widened. “Dora is in Durham? Not London?”

  He frowned. “You didn’t know that she was no longer with her husband?”

  “I had heard some murmurs about her and her husband, but I pay no attention to gossip, Edward. I never have, you should know that. Besides, I run a public house. My clientele depend upon my forgetting the things I hear.”

  “I can only imagine.” He fought the urge to press his lips to hers. He settled for lightly rubbing his thumb against her chin, then released her. “I will tell you everything, I promise, but I must get home. Mrs. Graham is expecting me. May I call upon you tomorrow?”

  Anna snorted softly. “I am no longer a debutante for whom you need to leave your calling card, Edward.”

  “Old habits die hard, it seems. But you didn’t answer the question.”

  She flushed. “Of course you may call on me, Edward. I…I have things I would like to say to you.”

  He raised his brows. He wasn’t sure what that meant. “Very well. What time shall I be here?”

  “Come for breakfast.”

  “For those scones?”

  She laughed. It was much deeper, throatier, than when they were children. It was pure seduction, all the more so because she had no idea. He could feel his body stirring in response.

  “Not those scones,” she said now, distracting him from his thoughts. “Mr. Caldwell ate them all. I will make fresh ones.”

  He said nothing, just reached for her hand and held it to his lips. He brushed a featherlight kiss across her palm and enjoyed the delicious shiver that pulsed through her.

  “Until tomorrow, then. Good night, Anna.” He bowed, then strode away. He felt her gaze boring into his back and wondered what she was thinking.

  ****

  Anna watched him go, her hand still tingling from his touch. She sighed. She had wanted him to kiss her, to reassure her, but he was hurt and had every right to be. She didn’t know his entire story, didn’t know how he had received that scar, but she did know now that he had not abandoned her. He would have returned to her quickly, had he been able.

  He stirred her blood, brought all those youthful feelings back to life. When love was new, innocent, with no responsibilities. It was disturbing to realize that although she had changed immeasurably, as had he, she still loved him. But just as she was cautious, afraid to let this new Edward into her heart again, he seemed to be as well.

  She heard a noise behind her, startling her from her reverie. Her gaze darted over the street, but it was deserted. Anyone who was about was inside her pub. Attributing her unease to an overactive imagination, she went inside. Zachary sat at the bar, chatting with Mr. Caldwell. Candlelight danced on his dark hair, and his giggles carried across the room. This—the music and chatter, the laughter, the smell of roasted meat and ale, the smoky air—this was home to her now. She was not sure she could change her life for Edward; perhaps neither of them truly wanted that. At least, not yet.

  Chapter Ten

  Edward woke bright and early the next morning, feeling happier than he had been in years. Dora was well, he was about to be an uncle, and Anna still quivered when he touched her. Things were looking up. It had rained overnight, and the air smelled damp and fresh. Nothing had ever smelled quite the same anywhere else he had been; this mixture of sea air and fresh dew was quintessentially English. Retracing the path his father had ridden nearly every day of his working life, Edward finally understood why he had built his family’s home so far from the shipyards. Having this time to himself, to do nothing but listen to the creak of the saddle, the soft footfalls of his horse, the rustling wind, and the meandering of his own thoughts was a kind of blessing.

  He was passing a copse of trees when something whistled by his head, followed by the unmistakable crack of a rifle. Instinctively he slid off Galahad. He tugged at the animal, and they ducked behind the trees. The horse was almost unnaturally calm, following placidly behind then tipping his head down to nip at some grass. Edward tried to quiet his ragged breathing, listening for his assailant. Nothing. He slumped down against the trunk of a tree, his thoughts racing.

  Someone had shot at him. He had heard enough gunfire during the war to recognize the sound. But why? And who? The only man whom he could have offended was Weston, but surely he wouldn’t have taken the loss of the Mason Shipyards so hard as to try to kill him?

  It must have been an accident; someone hunting nearby must have misfired. He sat for a moment, thinking, when he heard the sound of approaching hooves. He peered around his tree to see Mr. and Mrs. Graham coming up the road in his sister’s old pony cart. Sure that the couple wouldn’t have taken a shot at him, and that whoever had done so was gone, he emerged from the wood to hail them.

  “Master Edward! Oh, you gave me a fright!” Mrs. Graham’s eyes were wide, her hands fluttering at her chest.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Graham. I didn’t mean to startle you. Did either of you see anyone on the road just now?”

  “I saw a rider up ahead a ways, but no one else.”

  His assailant, clearly. “Did you see what he looked like? What kind of horse he rode?”

  “No, he was too far ahead. What were ye doing behind the trees, lad?”

  Edward decided not to say anything in front of Mrs. Graham. She wouldn’t take it at all well if she knew someone was trying to kill him. “I thought I saw a pheasant in the trees,” he said. “Thought it would make a fine addition to the table this evening.”

  “So where’s the bird?” Graham scowled, his eyebrows nearly crawling off the top of his head.

  Edward shrugged. “I was mistaken. Must have been something else.”

  Graham gave him a searching look, then nodded. “Hmm. Well, get back on your mount, lad. We can travel together. I’m taking the missus to Wallsend to see our grandson.”

  Mrs. Graham beamed. “He’s ten today, if you can believe that.”

  “Young Max is ten? That is rather hard to believe; he was a wee one the last time I saw him. Let me just get Galahad, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Edward mounted, and they continued their journey. The peace Edward had felt earlier had evaporated. He listened to Mrs. Graham’s chatter with only half an ear. The rest of his brain was occupied with trying to figure out who wanted him dead. By the time he got to Anna’s, he was no closer to finding a solution.

  He bade farewell to the Grahams, who assured him they would be back in time for his dinner.

>   “It’ll just be bread and cold meat, my lord,” Mrs. Graham said timorously. “We’ll return too late to put a full meal on for you.”

  “I can eat at the pub, if need be,” he said hopefully.

  Mrs. Graham frowned. “No, no, my lord. There’s no need for that.” She had not been happy he was having breakfast at the pub; there was no way she’d allow him to sup there as well.

  “Very well. Have a lovely visit, and give my best to Gwen.”

  “Thank you, my lord. She will be pleased to hear you are safe at home again.”

  Graham frowned and looked as if he were going to say something, but Edward shook his head. The older man looked at his wife, then nodded. Graham wouldn’t be content until he’d heard the whole story, but he also wouldn’t say a word to his wife.

  Edward dismounted and went around to the back door of the pub, where he tied his horse out of sight of the street, near a patch of sandy grass. Anna answered his knock looking frazzled, a smudge of flour on her cheek. He brushed it off with the back of his hand, pleased to feel her skin quiver beneath his touch.

  “Good morning. All right, lass?”

  “Such a morning I’ve had! Zachary knocked the plate of scones off the table when he was racing out the door to school, so I’ve had to start again.”

  He noticed a streak of flour in her hair, which coupled with her exasperated scowl made him want to laugh, but he was not secure enough with her to risk it. He adopted a sober, understanding expression, then proceeded to remove his coat. As he hung it on the peg by the door, he asked, “Can I do anything to help?”

  She waved a dusty, white hand at him. “No, they are almost done. I’ve put the kettle on, though, if you’d make the tea.”

  He thought for a minute, trying to recall how to make tea. He was English, though; it was not as if he could forget. Anna had laid out the tea things and pointed him toward the canister of tea. He opened the lid and inhaled. Another quintessential English smell, he thought. He tossed a few spoonfuls of leaves into the pot, then filled it with hot water. He sat and watched Anna bustle about the kitchen.