Secret Promise

by Marin McGinnis

  “When did you learn to cook?” he asked.

  She looked at him as if she’d forgotten he was there, which gave him pause. He didn’t much like being forgettable.

  “Our cook taught me, when I was younger. I used to watch her for hours, on days when I could escape the governess but couldn’t go outside to play. I asked her so many questions that she finally gave in and started teaching me. Mother never knew, I don’t think.” She pulled a pan of scones out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool. She added pots of jam and clotted cream to the plates on the table, then removed her apron and sat opposite him.

  She squinted at him, then reached across the table to grab his sleeve and stuck her finger through a hole in it. “What is that?”

  He looked down and examined his sleeve. “Huh. It appears he hit me after all.”

  She released his arm and met his eyes. “Who hit you?”

  “I don’t know. Someone took a shot at me on the way here this morning, but the Grahams scared him off. They saw someone riding away as they came closer to me.”

  “What? Someone shot you? How can you be so calm?”

  He shrugged, knowing it would annoy her. He preferred an annoyed Anna to a frightened one. “Well, he didn’t succeed, did he?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Exasperating man. Why would anyone try to kill you? Other than me, of course.”

  He grinned at her, but then he sobered. “I did think of Weston, but he doesn’t seem the type to dirty his hands that way. It was probably just a hunter who wasn’t a very good shot.”

  “Well, then, how do you explain him running away?”

  “I didn’t say he was running away.”

  “Hmmph.” She reached out to finger his sleeve again. “This has me worried, Edward. Especially after your riding accident the other day.”

  He smiled and covered her hand with his. “Do I take this concern to mean that you are starting to forgive me?”

  She glowered at him and snatched her hand back. “I haven’t decided yet. But regardless of how I feel about you romantically, I should be sad if anything were to happen to you. And I certainly wouldn’t want my son’s father to die in truth.”

  Edward paused. “Ah. So you told him his father was dead?”

  She flushed. The pink of her skin looked out of place with her flaming hair.

  “No. I didn’t want to believe that. To be honest, Edward, he didn’t show much curiosity. The two of us are a family, and he didn’t need anyone else.”

  That stung. Almost worse than having her tell Zachary he was dead. He clenched his fists at his sides. “What of your parents? What did you tell them?”

  The flush spread to the roots of her hair. “They knew Zachary was yours. Who else could it have been?”

  “You didn’t tell them of our handfasting, our betrothal.” It was a statement, not a question. He had suspected as much, but somehow he hoped she had told them, but they had not believed her. He could feel his temper beginning to flare.

  “No. I wrote to you about the baby, pleaded with you to come home before my pregnancy showed, but you didn’t answer my letters. I thought…” Anna’s eyes filled, and she looked away.

  “You thought I had abandoned you. That I had my wicked way with you and then left you to fend for yourself?”

  Anna blinked back tears, but said nothing.

  He stood, planting his fists on the table. His quiet tone conveyed more than his actual words how angry he was, and he knew Anna would understand that. “Our single night together was a mutual surrender of our innocence. I was not your seducer, Anna. I loved you, and believed you felt the same. It was only the thought of returning to you that kept me sane while I was rotting in that prison.”

  He was pacing now, his movements powered by rage, disappointment, and pain. “But now I find that you would rather everyone think you a common whore than tell anyone of our nuptials.”

  He could not bear to look at her. She might be crying, which would soften his heart, and right now he didn’t want to feel soft. Or knowing Anna as he did—or had thought he did—she would be just as angry as he, which would only make him feel more betrayed. He needed to be away from her. He strode toward the door.

  Anna’s voice stopped him. “I never said you seduced me, Edward. I wanted you just as much, possibly more. I was afraid. Afraid and so alone. I didn’t think anyone would believe me, or if they did, I knew they would pity me. It was better, far better, that they think me a whore who boldly made her choice, than a little girl abandoned by her lover.”

  He faced the door. “And this is what you wish our son to think of you?”

  Anna’s voice was quiet, with an undercurrent of steel. “I told Zachary that I loved his father very much. Zachary knows he is a product of that love.”

  Edward was silent for a moment. “I am sorry indeed that the love you claim you bore me was not enough to keep me alive in your heart.” He quietly opened the door and left without turning around.

  ****

  Edward had been so angry when he left Anna that he had stormed across the street to the shipyards and locked himself in his office, so he wouldn’t say something he’d regret to any of the workers. He was, he had to admit, terribly hurt to learn Anna had denied his existence in her life almost from the moment she learned she was pregnant. Surely, she was wrong. It cannot have been better to have been thought a trollop—he regretted now using the word “whore”—than to have been known as the wife of the heir to a barony, even if said heir had disappeared.

  He tried to place himself in her shoes, but it was impossible. He couldn’t imagine what she had been through. His parents were dead; hers had disowned her. And all the while he was in prison, subsisting on the thought of her living comfortably—happily—here, she was raising a child alone and running a public house. Maybe one day she would tell him how that last had come to pass, although he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know.

  Eventually he had calmed down enough that he no longer felt the need to isolate himself. He went out in the yard, spoke to every worker. There were three ships in various stages of completion. Things were almost back to the way they had been when his father was alive. The sound of whistling and laughter harmonized with the smack of hammers against nails, the rasp of blade against wood. The air was thick with sawdust, and even though it made him cough, he inhaled deeply. It smelled like home.

  The foreman approached him, and they returned to his office, discussing staff assignments, contracts, and proposed completion dates. When they were finished, Caldwell assumed a serious expression.

  “My lord, Miss Templeton came looking for you the other day, with a basket of scones.”

  “Yes, she told me.”

  “She interrupted Mr. Weston in your office.”

  Edward’s eyes widened. “What? What was he doing in here?”

  “I couldn’t say, my lord. I didn’t see him enter. When I saw Miss Templeton, I followed her to see what she wanted. He was, well, leering at her, I suppose.”

  Edward forced himself to remain calm, when all he wanted to do was rip Weston’s head off.

  Caldwell continued, “He was escorted off the premises by two of the men, but I don’t know how long he had been here before Miss Templeton arrived.”

  Edward looked around the room but could see nothing amiss. “I think I had better hire a clerk. Do you know of a suitable candidate?”

  “I could ask around, but I think you might need to find someone from outside of Northumberland to be sure Weston hasn’t had his clutches in him.”

  Edward studied Caldwell thoughtfully. “Have you always been this suspicious, Austin?”

  “I worked for the man for the seven years you were gone, my lord, and a few more before that. Let’s just say I have reason not to trust him.”

  “Very well. I shall write to my new brother-in-law to see if he can recommend anyone. In the meantime, perhaps you can find someone to…stand guard?”

  “Of course, my lor
d. I will ask one of the men. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you.” Caldwell turned and walked to the door, but Edward called him back. “Austin?”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Thank you. You have made it much easier for me to step into my father’s shoes. I still cannot fill them, but I will certainly try.”

  Caldwell smiled and nodded, then left. Within minutes another man, John Baxter, arrived to stand guard. He would be replaced by another, and then another, so the shipyard was monitored around the clock. Edward didn’t know what Weston wanted, but he felt more comfortable knowing that, whatever it was, Edward had made it harder for him to obtain.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna stood with Edward on a cliff overlooking the churning North Sea. The clouds swirled, a dance of light and dark, and the wind whipped through Anna’s long red hair as she clasped his hands with her own, wrapping a scarf around their wrists with trembling fingers. Even the elements seemed to mirror Anna’s emotions. Her eyes met his dark brown ones, sparkling with anticipation.

  They beamed at each other as they spoke the ancient vows, exchanged the Fede rings that had been in her family for generations. They came together then, in a sweet, inexpressibly innocent kiss. As if in benediction, the clouds opened, and within moments they were soaked. Heedless of the rain, they remained tight in each other’s embrace, until she shivered and realized how exposed they were. They broke apart, laughing. Hands still clasped, wet scarf looped loosely around their wrists, they raced for shelter.

  The shed had likely served as a gatehouse in years past, but now it was unused and in disrepair. It was a paradise to Anna, and she laid out the blanket she had brought, and a picnic dinner of roast chicken, cheese, and fruit that she had wheedled out of her father’s cook, as well as the wine he had pilfered from his father’s butler. They sat close together, alternately feeding and kissing each other, until the food sat neglected on the side of the blanket. They shed clothing piece by piece, until they lay panting, entwined. Anna couldn’t tell where Edward ended and she began.

  For a long time afterward, they were quiet, listening to each other’s soft breathing. Finally, Edward whispered, “We must go back. They will be looking for us.”

  She sighed. “I know.” A single tear slid down her cheek, and he brushed it away gently with a fingertip, then with a touch of his lips.

  “I will return in a few months, no more. Then we will announce our handfasting to our families and will wed before the vicar. It’s not as if no one expects us to wed. We may have done it a bit quicker than your father wished, that’s all.”

  “Always so sensible. Oh, Edward. I will miss you so very much.” She cupped his cheek in her palm, rested it there, savoring the warmth of his flesh on hers.

  “And I you. But we won’t be parted long. I promise.” He took her hands in his own, kissed them. They slowly dressed, their clothes still damp from the downpour. She gathered the unfinished remains of their picnic. They took one last walk along the edge of the cliff. The rain had stopped, and the world glistened with the same dewy wonder Anna felt inside. With the approaching dusk, the sky was streaked in pink, gray, orange, and blue; the water below lapped softly at the shoreline. Anna felt the sea air on her face and gathered her skirts around her.

  ****

  Anna’s eyes flew open. The dream was so vivid, her clothes felt damp as they tangled around her legs. For a moment, she had been on that cliff top, loving Edward, before her life fell to pieces. Then she realized her clothes were wet because the wind was blowing rain in through the window. She shook her head to clear it of the image of that perfect night, that perfect sunset, that perfect love. Perfection, she thought as she scrambled out of bed and slammed the window sash down, was overrated.

  She shivered and pulled on a robe, then hurried down the hall to check on Zachary. She opened his door and peered in. He snored softly, a strand of hair on his cheek. He had been in a strange mood when he came home from school but refused to tell her what was wrong. Given that she was not particularly cheery herself, she didn’t pry. Even little boys were entitled to mope after a bad day. They had spent the evening together but separate, each pretending to read but instead lost in their own thoughts.

  She tried to remember how it had felt to be six years old, but even if she could remember it clearly, she knew it wouldn’t help her understand him any better. Their childhoods were so very different. She had been raised by nurses, cooks, and governesses. She rarely saw her parents, her father especially, but every material need had been met. She had never been exposed to anything unseemly and had certainly never set foot in a public house.

  Zachary, on the other hand, lived in one. He was mature for his age, very independent. He was alone more than he ought to be, taking care of himself as she worked downstairs. When he wanted to be closer to her, he served patrons, and they ate together downstairs. He was a favorite of the clientele and heard more of their life stories—some more sordid than others—than any young boy should hear.

  She crept to the bed and brushed the hair off his face. She kissed his soft, warm cheek, slightly flushed and sweaty from sleep. She tiptoed to the window to make sure it was secure. Unlike her, he had had the good sense to close his windows, and so remained undisturbed by the storm. She peered out at the street. The rain lashed the cobblestones, and they glistened in the lamplight. Across the street, near the entrance to the Mason Shipyards, Anna could just make out a figure hurrying away. She thought it was odd that there should be anyone about, given the lateness of the hour and the fact it was raining buckets. If she had learned anything about life in this small village, however, it was that people did not always behave as one might expect.

  She yawned and went back to her own room. She lay on her side, watching the rain smack against the window. Edward had been so angry this morning. If she were being honest with herself—always an uncomfortable exercise—she had to admit that part of her knew he had a right to feel betrayed. But another part was just as angry with him as he was with her. He had been the one to leave her, after all. And he had been the one who had managed to get himself thrown into prison.

  What she was supposed to do now? She wished she could ask her mother for advice. Although she had been scandalized by the choices Anna had made, she’d never wavered in her loyalty, even though it had strained her marriage. Anna also suspected it had contributed to her death shortly after Zachary was born. Anna knew many people and was friendly with them, but had no friends to speak of.

  No, her best friend had always been Edward. Even though she missed the physical aspect of their relationship—the kisses, the caresses, the…heaven they had experienced that night in the dilapidated shed—she missed their friendship more. And now that she had hurt him, she feared she had lost that forever.

  ****

  Edward had ridden past the pub when he left the yard the evening before, but he hadn’t stopped. Part of him wanted to go in and beg her forgiveness, but another part wanted her to beg his. She had lost faith in him, denied his love even in the face of the son they had created together. Even after learning he had been unable to return to her, detained beyond his will, she still refused to tell Zachary the truth. That was even harder to forgive.

  He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about her, or Zachary, but he knew he couldn’t face her just yet. Instead of stopping, he had returned to Tynemouth—mercifully without incident—and spent the evening playing cards with the Grahams. Today being Sunday, he didn’t go to the yards but wasn’t quite prepared to go to church either—the prospect of being on display did not appeal. Instead, he spent the morning immersed in plans to rebuild the manor. He had met with a builder a few days earlier, who promised to start the following week. They would remove the debris from the fire first, salvaging as much as possible to be used in the new structure. As much as Edward enjoyed living so close with the Grahams, he needed to reassert himself, to reclaim his birthright and all that it entailed.


  This was the part of his life that was easy to control. The part that he couldn’t control—the part that was Anna—would need to wait.

  He was just sitting down to luncheon when a knock sounded on the kitchen door. Mr. Graham answered it, and ushered a man in a constable’s uniform into the room.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” the constable said. He stood at attention, as if straightening his spine could make him appear taller, but he held himself awkwardly, as if uncomfortable in his own skin.

  Edward felt a rising sense of panic in his chest. “Constable. Is Anna all right?”

  The constable’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Anna?”

  Edward forced himself to breathe again. “Never mind. What brings you here? Would you like some luncheon?” He spread his hands toward the table in front of him.

  “No, thank you, my lord. I am here on official business.” He stuck his finger between his collar and his neck, as if trying to loosen his shirt.

  “Very well. How can I assist you?” Edward rose, his mind reeling as he continued to imagine all the possible reasons for the constable’s visit.

  “You own the Weston Shipyards, my lord?”

  “I own the Mason Shipyards. Is there a problem?”

  “You might say that. I suggest you come with me, my lord.”

  “What? Why?”

  Another knock sounded, and Mrs. Graham pulled herself away from the unfolding drama just long enough to answer it. Austin Caldwell strode into the room.

  “My lord…” he began, before noticing the constable. “Oh. You already know.”

  “Know what? Would someone please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?”

  The constable and Caldwell started to speak at the same time.

  “Baxter is dead…”

  “A man was found dead…”

  “What?” Edward’s patience was wearing thin as panic began to rise in his breast. “One at a time, please. Who is dead?”

  The constable gave Caldwell a quelling look and consulted a notebook he pulled out of his pocket. “One of your workers, a Mister John Baxter, was found dead this morning.”