by JayneFresina
Catching her reflection in the window, she raised a hand to her hair and then her cheek. How did one prepare for a daring three-day trip with Mr. Gabriel Hart, Boxing Heavyweight World Champion? Would people recognize him, where they were going? If so they would wonder who on earth she was and what she was doing there at his side.
And then she remembered that it was Thursday. Bath day for the female house servants. She had better make the most of this opportunity for a thorough scrubbing if he was taking her out in public. Perhaps this was the occasion to use her perfumed bath salts.
* * * *
Mr. Blythe, the coachman, drove them to Aylsham in a Brougham carriage. The weather was slightly milder that evening, and the icy rain had stopped, although there was a hefty but silent expectation in the air, the suggestion of snow on its way.
They had two hot water jugs for their feet and fur blankets for their knees. Mrs. Fullerton, apparently worried that the carriage might become stranded, or that they would get lost on their ten-mile journey to Aylsham, provided a basket of cake, biscuits and sandwiches, as well as a flask of tea.
"This must be in your honor, Greene. She'd never do all this for me," Gabriel murmured, digging through the basket and discovering all the treats like a little boy opening his very first Christmas present.
"Of course she would," Ever replied drily. "That woman thinks the sun gives its heat for you. As do they all."
He looked at her as if he had no idea what she meant. Taking a silver flask of something stronger from inside his coat, he offered to pour a splash into her tea, but she politely declined.
As the carriage took them inland along country roads, he raised his chin, swayed toward her and sniffed. "What's that perfume?"
"Perfume?" She looked about the carriage interior, feigning innocence.
He fell back against the cushioned seat beside her, sighed with satisfaction and said, "I hope you wore that for me, Greene."
"I do not know what you mean."
"You washed your hair too, didn't you?"
"I fail to see what business that is of yours."
"Palgrave told me, because she was worried about you catching a chill, going out with wet hair and not having time to let it dry properly." He smirked. "I'm to take very good care of you. I've been given my orders and woe betide me if you come back with any dainty bits dirty and broke—broken— off."
"Well, neither of you need be concerned about me. Or my bits."
"I know," he groaned, "you don't need a man looking after you." After a short pause he added, "I suppose you want separate rooms at the inn."
She gave him a sideways look which answered for her.
"I thought so. But we'll dine together. The cook there does a very good Toad-in-the-hole and a more than adequate fish pie. Nothing amiss with dining together in public before we go to our separate rooms, is there?"
Ever turned her head to look at him. "You have been there often?"
"I've stopped there a few times on my way to Norwich." And when she remained quiet, he added, "Alone. Not with a lady. It's different traveling with a lady, of course. I'll have to be on me best behavior."
"Indeed. But you'll have me there to remind you of the rules of etiquette, as you pointed out."
Truth was she didn't know what was going to happen on this "trip", but expectation was, like the hint of snow, heavy in the air.
She was, after all, twenty-four and had never kissed a man passionately until a few days ago. Perhaps it was time to expand her knowledge. And what better man to expand it with? Unlike her mother, she was not afraid to kick off her shoes and walk on the sand, to feel it beneath her toes. And her father had taught her that there was nothing to fear in flying to the moon if one was needed there. Having spent his life studying books and reading about other people's adventures, Everett Greene had secretly yearned for escapades of his own. His lessons to her had, she realized now, prepared his daughter to do all those things he never could.
Almost as if he'd known.
* * * *
Since that kiss Gabriel been waiting for another and he was not a patient man. She knew that. Was she playing with him? He didn't think so; Miss Greene wasn't the sort. Apparently she waited for the precise moment, when all the stars were aligned. Well, he had plans. It might require a little manipulation of those stars, but he knew what he wanted. He knew this was the woman he'd been waiting for. She was the one.
There was an expression that occasionally crossed her face and it reminded him of being underwater, surrounded by her soft, warm light, the twisty tendrils of her hair floating and stretching around him. The calm in the center of the storm.
In that moment, when he thought death had come for him as a boy of sixteen, he wasn't in the least afraid. Didn't care about swimming for the surface. Had no cares at all, in fact.
Because she was there with him. As if she was a good luck charm of some sort.
At first, when they fished him out of the water, he'd actually felt anger, disappointment. He'd shouted at his rescuers to look for the little girl, but they claimed to see no one else. They thought he was confused and they pointed to the nasty wound on his head. When he got up and tried going back into the water to look for her, he stumbled, dizzy, falling back to his knees in the sand. Blood ran down his temple, alarming one of the women who stood nearby so that she screamed hysterically. For several painful breaths all was chaos. Then he passed out.
For eighteen years he'd been wondering about that little girl who tumbled from the pier and took him under the sea. Nobody else believed she ever existed. For some reason they hadn't seen her. But he'd always known she was out there, waiting for him.
Now he had to make her believe it too.
Chapter Twelve
When they arrived in Aylsham the inn was crowded and lively with a large roaring fire to chase off the wintry chill. They had a table to one side of the hearth, where they ate a very good dinner of fresh fish and potatoes.
"Not a patch on Fullerton though, eh?" He gave her a wink across the table. "Now you know why I keep her, despite those occasional skirmishes with Palgrave."
She thought of what Signora Brunetti had said about Gabriel collecting people around him. "Yes. You are fortunate to have such a capable cook. Did you acquire her from the newspaper too?"
"You bein' saucy again, Greene?"
"No. I was interested."
"In that case, no, I didn't advertize for a cook. I ate one night at a friend's house in Scotland and liked my dinner so much that I made Fullerton an offer to work for me instead."
"You stole her away from a friend?"
"Why not? I needed a good cook, and she suited me."
"Was your friend displeased?"
He shrugged, stabbing a potato on the tines of his fork. "Don't know. Don't care. He should have paid her more— paid her what she was worth— then I wouldn't have been able to steal her away, would I?" Depositing the impaled potato between his lips, he smirked, self-satisfied as usual.
She watched him chew. "Where did you find Mrs. Palgrave then and Mr. Bede? She said they've worked for you for years."
"I suppose they have. Since I were a young man and began making good money. Palgrave was a parson's widow, penniless, doing house cleaning, laundry and all sorts for a fellow in Guildford. He cheated her out of a good wage and worked her to her knees. I knew I needed someone to keep things in order for me, so I—"
"But how did you find her?"
"He was an associate of Max Connolly's. A crooked scoundrel. Had come to her looking for some debt he claimed her dead husband owed him, so the poor widow woman felt indebted. Didn't know which way to turn. Well...I stepped in, made her an offer and took her out of it."
"That was very kind of you."
He laughed. "I ain't all that bad. Got me good points."
"And Mr. Bede?"
Gabriel took a swig from his tankard of ale, his eyes watching her above the pewter brim. "He were a soldier, wounded in the Boer War
. Discharged they call it. Boot up the backside I call it. Thank you for your service, but we've no more use for you young Bede, not now that we've took your life and health from you. Off you go. Came home in a bad way, deemed unfit for any job he tried. Turned to drink and gamblin'. I found him after one of my fights. He were slumped in the alley, half dead. So I took him in, cleaned him up, gave him a job."
"You must have been young then."
"About twenty I should say."
"And he's been with you ever since?"
"Fourteen or fifteen years. As long as Palgrave, I reckon." His fingers tapped against the empty tankard. "He's got nowhere else to go, of course."
"I'm sure he's very thankful to you. That was a wonderful thing you did."
"I don't look for thanks. What else are we here to do but help each other? No point waiting for them at the top to help. To make the world a better place we have to start at the bottom. Lend a hand where we can."
She swallowed and nodded. He had a simple goodness that she would never have expected when they first met. The fat-headed arrogance that came across before anything else was all bluster— mostly. It had efficiently hidden from her the fact that he had a soft-heart and an inherent sense of justice and right. Beside his example she felt very self-absorbed and stupid. And she was supposed be the governess with something to teach him.
"What about the others who work for you?"
"Palgrave finds them mostly. I leave that to her."
"Except me."
He leaned forward, resting both arms on the table, fingers still wrapped around his tankard. "Except you."
"And you suddenly decided you needed a governess."
She saw the bulge in his cheek where he pressed his tongue for a moment. Then, rather guiltily, he confessed, "I needed you."
* * * *
Her eyelashes swept slowly down and up again. "You knew I would come?"
"Well, I didn't know exactly. I took a chance. If you weren't right I would have sent you back and tried again."
"But I was the right one."
He grinned, feeling sheepish, but not wanting her to see it. "First time lucky."
The tavern was noisy and crowded, but he had forgotten everybody else around them. There was only this woman with the mesmerizing eyes and the dark brown hair that he longed to see unbound. He reached across the table and took her hand.
"You didn't really need a governess. You know very well how to behave like a gentleman. When you want to."
But none of that mattered. "Still don't remember me, do you?" he said softly.
"Remember what?"
"Eighteen years ago, that day in July."
She studied his hand around hers. "What am I supposed to remember then?"
Slowly he moved his thumb over her palm. How soft her skin was. Made him afraid to touch her, for fear of leaving a mark or breaking something. Palgrave's warnings still sat in his head. And she was right; he did have to be gentle and cautious with this young lady. She wasn't like anybody else he'd ever met, and that was why he needed her so.
He took a deep breath. "When I was in the water that day, somebody landed on me. Fell on me from above."
"I don't understand what that has to do with me."
He felt her tensing, ready to pull her hand away so he tightened his fingers around it, carefully though, not to hurt or frighten her. "Yes, you do. You're just pretending it doesn't exist, trying to stifle it. Like your screams."
* * * *
Ever tried to shut out all the other noises. So many of them, making her head ache. Too many minds inside that tavern. Chattering, busy minds. Lusty minds and tired minds. Other people's problems, once again, filled her senses. No wonder she couldn't breathe.
Then there were forks and spoons scraping over plates and bowls. A high-pitched woman's laughter somewhere behind her. A dog barking.
But she had to focus. This was important.
"I remember...a kite. I'd been watching it all day." The words came out as if they were afraid, embarrassed by every syllable. "When I was by the railings on the pier, it flew by again and I thought...I thought I could reach it." She saw again the shadow swooping and soaring, the wind puttering over its surface. "I thought if I stood on the railing, just for a boost..."
"And you tumbled in."
So that was him below, whistling that horrid tune. "Something distracted me." The man with the coins, the shiny, rattling parade of pennies that fell through the hole in his pocket. For just a split second she looked down, and lost her balance. But why was she alone there by the railing? Where were her parents?
"The pier looked different then, to how it does now," she said, her voice sounding small and thin.
"Yes. I suppose it would."
Several people had glanced over and saw him holding her hand, but she determinedly shut out their thoughts. His, of course, were not available to her.
"Do you remember being in the water?" he asked.
She shook her head. "You know I can't swim." The question had been tugging at her like those ghostly ice-cold fingers. "Why...why didn't I drown?"
"Somebody must have seen you fall and rescued you. As they did me."
But that made no sense to Ever. She knew that she'd vanished completely from the pier that day— she'd read all that in her mother's mind and, years later, in the notes of Dr. Frazer, who didn't know she could read his spidery scrawl upside down. Astrid Greene had never stopped blaming herself for losing sight of her daughter. Nobody had seen Ever fall from the pier, and no trace of her was found, despite a long, thorough search.
Her last memory was of that awful tune being whistled, those eleven notes that had stuck with her into her nightmares for years after. She knew the lyrics that went with them now.
The daring young man on the flying trapeze...
The kite drifting just beyond the reach of her fingers, and then the coins rolling along the boards toward her. For that split second she hadn't known what to do— reach for the fluttering kite or the shiny pennies. Her foot had slipped. Her wrist hit the railing.
The next thing she knew she was standing at the door of her house, waiting to be let in.
After that she started to speak, having spent the first six years of her life as a mute.
And the nightmares...the nightmares began soon after her return home.
That was when Pumpymuckles came into her world while she slept, charging down his tunnel, whistling that dreadful tune and telling her he was coming to get her. What the devil had let him into her imagination? Pumpymuckles. Where would she get such a name?
Gabriel Hart was staring at her. "What else? There's more you're not telling me."
"Yes, but there is so much more that I don't know. Where were my parents? How had I wandered away from them to be alone by the railing? How did I not drown?"
Where had she gone for four months? And what or who, exactly, was Pumpymuckles? The very thought of his name gave her goose-pimples. She daren't say it aloud. If she did, would it conjure him into reality.
"Well," he smiled slowly, "you didn't drown, and neither did I, or else we wouldn't be here together now."
"But it's such a strange coincidence, don't you think, that we should meet again?"
"That, Miss Ever Greene, is destiny."
Yes, it must be.
"Some things, as you say, ought to remain a mystery," he added. "Perhaps it should be enough for us that we're here. That we found each other again. Now we can live in the present. Whatever that may be."
He raised her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss very gently upon it. So gently that she barely felt it at first, but then it traveled through her, like an echo, and every part of her body felt warmer. Cherished. The goose-pimples were gone.
"We had better retire for the night," he said. "You look tired. Shall I have the landlord escort us to our rooms, Miss Greene?"
"How polite you are tonight, Mr. Hart. See you don't really need me. I was right."
"Wrong. It's
all your hard work paying off at last."
"Mostly it's yours." She stood and folded her coat over her arm. "In truth, it hasn't been work for me at all. I've rather enjoyed it. So far. Even if you did lure me to your house under false pretenses."
He looked uncertain, but after studying her somber expression for a moment and seeing it remain unchanged, he beamed, suddenly looking boyish again. So pleased he met with her approval.
"I do wish you wouldn't do that," she murmured.
He threw out his arms. "What?"
* * * *
Alone in her rented room under the thatched roof of the inn, Ever felt disturbingly cheerful, oddly optimistic, even a little giddy. It took a long time to get ready for bed, as she kept forgetting what she was meant to be doing, her mind drifting off. Then she would catch herself smiling stupidly at a scratch in the bedpost. Perhaps she had drunk too much cider.
For him it was simple— It should be enough for us that we're here. That we found each other again.
Ha! And Mrs. Palgrave had thought her little more than a child. Gabriel Hart was far more childlike than she had ever been. He viewed his world with the egotistical eye of a five year-old. If he wanted it he must have it. Without delay. Everything revolved around him and nothing should be allowed to obstruct his comfort and contentment.
She'd even seen a few temper tantrums when he was frustrated.
But he had also shown that he could be caring and compassionate. He was a man of action who understood that while he couldn't solve all the world's problems, he could help those immediately around him.
When she really thought about it, his advertisement in the paper had helped her too, rescued her from the prison in which she'd been held.
Was "prison" too harsh a word? Her parents had been over-protective, but how could they not be after the unexplained vanishing and then the following episodes, when she fell into a fugue state, forgetting who or where she was for hours or days at a time? Naturally they worried about her and wanted to keep her safe. That meant never letting her go far out of their sight again, in case she suffered an incident when they were not there to watch over her and keep her away from danger.
