Secret Promise

by Marin McGinnis

“You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Sorry, I was…woolgathering.”

  “Hmph.”

  Edward was silent for a moment, until Mrs. Graham entered the room. She looked from one man to the other and narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips. “What schemes are you hatching now, old man?”

  “Master Edward here is making plans to win back his lady.”

  “And about time, too! Dear Anna and that little boy of yours, waiting for your return.” Edward’s mouth dropped open, and Graham chuckled. So much for no secrets between them. She ignored them both and continued, “I don’t think she ever truly believed you were dead. She has been resisting other suitors for years, including that snake Weston.”

  Edward’s mouth snapped shut, and he half rose out of his chair, hands on the table. “What do you mean, Weston? He’s been courting her?”

  “He has. I’ve heard he’s been the last customer in the pub most nights.”

  Edward seethed. She hadn’t told him, just as she hadn’t told anyone they had wed, or that he was the father of her child.

  Mrs. Graham swatted him on the hand he had not realized had formed into a fist. She smiled reassuringly. “Stop looking so fierce, my lord. She’s never encouraged him; quite the opposite. But until you came back, she couldn’t risk offending him. The man would have ruined her business.”

  Edward took a deep breath, forced himself to calm. Sank back into his chair, released his stiff fingers, savoring the tingle as the blood returned to the tips and the rage dissipated.

  Mrs. Graham patted his shoulder in approval as she passed, went to the sideboard, and pulled out another glass. She returned to the table, poured what was left of the whisky into each glass. Taking a seat next to her husband, she took a sip from her own glass.

  “Now then, my lads. How are we going to win Miss Anna back?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Washington was hot. The sweat dripped off his brow, collecting in puddles at his collar. He was always thirsty; there never seemed to be enough water, and what liquid there was, was tepid and nearly undrinkable. The food the guards brought him was usually lukewarm, as if it had sat on a table in the sun for several hours, juice from some mysterious meat congealing, covered with flies. The humid air was filled with the stench of unwashed bodies, rotting food, mildew. His clothes were damp, and the filthy piece of cloth that was once a handkerchief merely moved the sweat around on his forehead, leaving traces of dirt behind.

  Edward had spent the past three months in this circle of hell. Nearly every day other prisoners were released, traded for Union prisoners. For the first two months, he demanded to see the British ambassador, protested his imprisonment, pleaded his innocence, but he was ignored. Only once did he ever receive a reason—a guard told him the United States had no wish to stir up more trouble with Her Majesty’s government, which had been only a hair’s breadth away from joining the conflict. On the Confederate side.

  So they kept him here, telling no one of his imprisonment, not allowing him to correspond with anyone. He had become a cipher.

  For the last month, he had become almost resigned to his fate, eating only enough to keep him alive, although he was beginning to wonder why he bothered.

  “Mason!” The guard woke him from his fitful slumber and opened the door to his cell.

  Edward blinked sleepily and stared at the rotund, cheerful guard, one of the few who’d been reasonably kind to him.

  “What’s going on? Am I being released?”

  “Don’t think so. You’re being transferred.”

  “To where?”

  “Dunno. I’m just told you’re to be brought to the front gate.”

  “Should I bring my…Never mind.” He looked around the barren cell. His only belongings were the clothes on his back and a sketch of Anna. She had given it to him before he left England, to remember her on his brief journey. His journey had been anything but brief, and the drawing, the girl portrayed within it, was his only tether to his old life. To life in general.

  He splashed some tepid water on his face from the stagnant basin on the room’s only table. Sticking the drawing in his pocket, he followed the guard out of his cell.

  ****

  Anna answered a knock on her door very early the following Sunday morning to find Edward standing there, a picnic basket in his hand. He bowed deeply.

  “Good morrow, my lady. Your carriage awaits.”

  Anna looked around but saw nothing that could be called a carriage. “What carriage?”

  “It’s a figure of speech, actually. We’re walking.”

  “Walking where?”

  “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.” Edward grinned, looking very pleased with himself.

  She could not help but laugh. “Very well. I will need to ask Margret to keep an eye on Zachary.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Graham are right behind me and will tend to Zachary while we are gone.” He gestured to the street, and she could see the elderly retainers making their way toward them in a pony cart. “Mrs. Graham is greatly looking forward to having a child to spoil. She spent all of yesterday baking. There’s so much food in their cart it’s a wonder the two of them fit inside it.”

  Anna arched a brow. “Yesterday? You have this all planned out, haven’t you?”

  “I have. It’s best you surrender without a fight.”

  The Grahams and their wheezing pony arrived. Anna greeted them, leading Mrs. Graham upstairs while Edward and Mr. Graham unloaded the cart.

  Zachary was curled up in a chair in the sitting room, reading.

  “Zachary,” Anna said, “I have a surprise for you.”

  Zachary’s head snapped up, and he sniffed the air. “Have you been baking, Mam?”

  “I have not, but Mrs. Graham has.” The woman herself appeared at the top of stairs, smiling in welcome. She removed a cinnamon cake from the bag she carried and held it out to Zachary.

  Zachary leapt out of his chair. “Is that for me?” He hesitated, looking from a smiling Mrs. Graham to Anna for verification.

  Anna nodded. “Yes, it’s for you. Mrs. Graham spoiled me with treats when I was young, and I have no doubt she’d very much like to spoil you, too.”

  Zachary took the cake, inhaling its sweet, spicy smell before devouring it in three bites. “Thank you, Mrs. Graham. It was delicious!” He raced down the stairs to help Edward and Mr. Graham, who were hauling parcels into the pub’s kitchen.

  Mrs. Graham’s gaze followed the boy, and only after he disappeared from sight did she turn to Anna. “He’s very like Edward, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is. Although he’s like me as well. He has the best of both of us, I think.” She paused. “I suppose it’s common knowledge that he’s Edward’s son?”

  Mrs. Graham patted her hand. “Oh, no, dear. But I raised Edward, he’s like my own son. I could tell. Edward only told Mr. Graham the other evening, and the man had no idea. As for others in the village, I don’t know, but I doubt it. People are not terribly observant, in my experience.”

  Anna sighed. “Would you like some tea, Mrs. Graham? I was just going to brew a pot when Edward arrived.”

  “I should love some tea, Anna. May I help?”

  “No, please sit down; it’s the least I can do.” She pulled out a chair at the table for the older woman, then put the kettle on and gathered the tea things.

  “Anna, if you don’t mind my asking, I’ve been curious about something.”

  Anna looked over her shoulder as she took a tin of tea out of the cupboard. “Yes?”

  “Why did you not tell your parents you and Edward had handfasted?”

  The kettle began to whistle, saving Anna from an immediate reply. She finished making the tea, then set the pot and the cups on the table. “Sugar? Milk?”

  “Milk, please, dear.” Mrs. Graham did not ask her question again, but Anna knew she had not forgotten, was still waiting.

  Anna poured tea for them, then sat and sipped. “I was waiting for Edward
to return before I said anything. It would have been so much easier if he’d been by my side. My parents always liked Edward, although my father only did so because he was the heir to a barony.” She snorted. “I know they suspected Edward was the father, but once he’d disappeared, they couldn’t very well force him to make an honest woman of me. Did you know my father tried to marry me off?”

  “No!”

  “He did, to a wealthy merchant from Edinburgh. The man was sixty if he was a day and smelt of cheroots, which he smoked incessantly.” She shuddered at the memory. “I refused, and my father has not spoken to me since.”

  “I am sorry, my dear. It cannot have been easy for you.”

  “No, it hasn’t, but I don’t regret my choice. I have been able to raise Zachary as I saw fit. I was able to purchase the pub, and it is successful. It has not been a perfect life, but I have no real complaint.”

  “You did not miss Edward?”

  “Oh, of course I did! He has always been my best friend, and I missed him terribly. But I thought he was dead, and for my own sanity, I needed to move forward with my life.”

  “So why did you never marry? Surely there must have been suitors more to your liking?”

  “Not really. Men don’t particularly like independent women, especially ones with illegitimate children. Weston was the only persistent suitor, and you can imagine how I felt about him.”

  “Indeed.” Mrs. Graham was silent for a moment, clearly pondering something. Finally, she said, “Anna, dear, you should know. I told Edward Mr. Weston was courting you. He was, um, not best pleased.”

  Anna laughed. “No, I imagine not. I do hope he also knows I did not encourage the man.”

  “Yes, he knows that as well.” A shout came from downstairs. Anna had almost forgotten the men were there, and she was destined for a mysterious outing. She attempted to pick up the tea things, but Mrs. Graham shooed her away. “You go and gather your wrap, my dear. I am sure Edward is waiting impatiently.”

  “You wouldn’t consider telling me where he’s taking me, would you?”

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t dare spoil the surprise.” Mrs. Graham had a mischievous twinkle in her eye, making her look about twenty years younger. Anna realized Mrs. Graham must have been truly beautiful when she was a lass, and for the first time, she understood the Grahams’ devotion to each other. Mrs. Graham was, it seemed, quite a romantic.

  “Anna!” Edward called again from downstairs.

  “Coming!” She smoothed her hair, then grabbed her wrap off the peg by the door and rushed downstairs. Zachary was chatting animatedly with Mr. Graham, while Edward looked on with mild amusement and an unmistakable air of affection. Then his gaze turned to her, and the soft affection gave way to a smoldering heat that almost made her knees give way.

  She cleared her throat, and Edward grinned. Damn the man. “Shall we go? Wherever it is?”

  “Absolutely. All right, Zachary?” Edward ruffled the boy’s hair and received an adoring grin in return.

  By contrast, Anna’s goodbye kiss merited only a “Bye, Mam!” before he turned back to Mr. Graham to continue his conversation.

  Anna sighed, and Edward took her arm. “Come along, Anna. The boy will be fine. You wouldn’t rather he cling to your skirts crying, would you?”

  Anna thought for a minute, her desire to be needed warring with her wish to raise an independent, self-reliant boy. “No, of course not.”

  “That’s my girl.” He gave her arm a squeeze full of promise. “Let’s be off before he changes his mind and decides he’d rather stay with his mam after all.”

  Edward steered them toward town, rather than toward the seaside, as she’d expected. It was still early, and the streets were very quiet. “Where are we going?”

  “The train station.”

  “Why?”

  “To get on a train, of course.” Edward’s matter-of-factness was irritating in the extreme, but he looked like such an imp she was inclined to forgive him. Almost.

  “So where is the train going?”

  “Never you mind, Anna. You’ll see soon enough.”

  Anna sighed petulantly, which only made Edward laugh. “You hate not being in control, don’t you?”

  Anna glared at him but said nothing. She was reluctant to admit just how little she liked to relinquish control. They walked in silence for a bit. Anna sneaked a glance at Edward, who was looking at her, a satisfied smile on his handsome face. “What are you smiling about?”

  “I’m just pleased to be with you.” Edward shifted the picnic basket to his other hand and grasped her hand in his free one. His hand was warm, slightly rough to the touch, as if he’d been working alongside his men. It was oddly comforting, and she relaxed a bit, enjoying the feeling of closeness. Sneaking another peek at Edward beneath her lashes, she noted his smile was even broader, and she couldn’t help sharing it.

  “So if you aren’t going to tell me where we’re going, tell me something else. What is Theodora’s new family like?”

  “You’d like them, I think, especially Julia. She reminds me of you, in a way.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Fifteen or sixteen, I think. Not yet out, chafing at the restrictions society places on her.”

  Anna snorted. “Yes, I suppose that is a bit like me.”

  “Theodora’s husband was not at first disposed to like me very much.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “Theodora is with child.” Anna thumped him on the arm, as if they were children. “Ouch! Why did you do that?”

  “You never told me!”

  “Didn’t I? Sorry. Yes, she’s with child. But she hasn’t had an easy time of it, and he is worried. So worried. He loves her very much.”

  “I’m glad. Well, not that she’s having a difficult pregnancy, but the rest of it. She deserves to be happy.”

  Edward was quiet for so long Anna looked at him, alarmed. His lips were thin and tight, his eyes, so hard, focused on the road ahead of them. She squeezed his hand, and he jumped, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. “Are you all right, Edward?”

  “It’s just…I feel guilty, sometimes. I assumed all was well here—I had to, to survive. I came home expecting to find her happily married and myself an uncle several times over. I expected to be greeted by my gracefully aging parents. To sleep in my old bedchamber. And you.” He stopped, placed the basket on the ground, and turned to face her. “Oh, God, Anna. I am so sorry. I never meant to leave you, to make you raise our son all by yourself.”

  His eyes were misty, and Anna felt tears sliding slowly down her cheeks. She grasped his face in both hands and pulled him toward her, her lips meeting his with a longing so intense she thought her heart might burst. She could taste the salt of her tears mingled with his, the cool sea air warming instantly as it touched their cheeks. She hugged him fiercely, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his lips again. Then she pulled away, her palms on the sides of his head.

  “It was not your fault. It was no one’s fault, except perhaps for a vengeful God. We are together now, and that is what matters.”

  “Are we? Together, I mean?” The hesitation in Edward’s voice nearly broke her heart.

  “Yes. We are.” Anna’s tone was rather fiercer than she intended, since she had not realized until she uttered the words that it was true.

  She turned away, blinking back tears that threatened to continue to fall, and changed the subject. “Now, where are you taking me?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Edward watch her for a moment, a smile playing on his lips. “Oh, nice try. But you’ll see soon enough.”

  They continued to walk just a little further until they arrived at the station. Edward had already purchased the tickets, apparently, and bustled her onto a waiting train so quickly she wasn’t even able to tell which direction they were headed.

  They settled into a compartment, and Edward stowed the basket on the rack above their heads, then sat next to Anna. She trie
d not to squirm, but the suspense was killing her. She used to love surprises, but in the past seven years, surprises generally meant something unpleasant. They meant barmaids who didn’t bother to come to work, a child’s sore throat, a stove that ceased to function during the dinner rush, an unexpected argument between patrons who’d had too much to drink.

  Edward must have sensed her unease and turned to her with an amused twinkle in his eye. She ignored him and looked out the window, trying to figure out which direction they were headed.

  Just then the train moved, and the conductor called out the next stops. Aha, they were headed north, but it wasn’t much help. They could be going anywhere along the route. Edward grasped her hand, entwining his fingers in her own, and promptly fell asleep. She couldn’t decide if she was more irritated or amused, so she rested her head on his shoulder and soon joined him in slumber.

  What seemed only moments later, she felt something tickling her face and smacked it.

  “Ouch!”

  Her eyes flew open as she remembered where she was and who she was with. Edward’s face was close to her own, a lock of his hair touching her cheek. He kissed her quickly, then moved away.

  “This is our stop. Time to get off or we’ll miss it.” He grabbed the basket off the shelf and pulled her to her feet.

  “Where is here?” Her head felt muzzy from sleep, disoriented.

  Edward just grinned and clasped her hand. She followed him off the train and finally saw the sign on the platform.

  Her eyes widened, and she stopped suddenly, forcing Edward to a halt. “Edward. Why are we in Berwick?”

  “You’ll see,” he said again, infuriatingly. Anna was tempted to stamp her foot like a child, but Edward would just laugh.

  He pulled her along again, and they made their way to the front of the station. They hired a gig from one of the inns next to the station and headed east, toward the sea. A notion was forming in Anna’s mind, as they passed scenery she had last seen seven years before, in a gig very much like this one, with a picnic basket similar to the one that lay at her feet, the same man by her side.

  She turned to look at that man, her mouth agape. Edward winked.