“I know.”
“You can be very vexing!” he snapped, but he was smiling.
“That I know, too.”
Her laughter faded as she leaned against him again. Whatever had been wrong with their food or drink remained to ache in her stomach. She did not want to be sick in front of Ian, so she fought the distress.
The hours passed slowly as they waited for the water to ebb along the tunnel. In the dampness, they pressed close together to keep warm. They spoke infrequently, but the silence was not uncomfortable. They had passed the point where they must not allow the conversation to falter. It was enough simply to sit quietly and listen to the whisper of the water slipping across the stones.
Whenever the water failed to reach them, they moved closer to the entrance of the tunnel. Ian used his cane to test the depths ahead of them, but no amount of impatience hurried the ebbing of the waves.
The first hint of the end of their vigil was the sparse glitter of moonlight peeking through the top of the crevice. Mariel cheered when she pointed it out to him. Although the light vanished almost immediately, to reappear with the motion of the sea, it meant that soon the water would lower enough for them to escape.
Ian drew her to him and tasted the smile on her lips. He teased, “Are you so happy to be done with our picnic, my dear?”
“It will be memorable.”
“Because of this escapade?”
Her fingers rose to the wilted collar of his shirt. She could feel the layer of salt on the material as her hands clasped behind his neck. Softly she said, “You know I cannot forget this, but it is what we shared on the beach I will remember first when I think of this day.”
“That part we will have to repeat soon.” He lifted her matted hair aside so he could outline the half-shell shape of her ear with his tongue.
Mariel leaned against the wall as her knees threatened to fail her. When he stepped closer, she put her fingers on the back of his head to steer his mouth through the darkness to hers. At her eager gasp of joy, he pressed her tighter between him and the unbending wall. In the soaked dress, every inch of her slender form could be felt through the layers of clinging material.
They parted with a laugh as they were splashed by a wave higher than the others. With his hand on her cheek, he brought her face toward him. In the dim light filtering into the cave, he whispered, “We shall do this again soon.”
“Yes, we—” A shiver raced along her, and she smiled. “But not in this cold water.”
He joined in with her amusement, although he would have preferred to continue kissing her. That she had not complained once about the bone-chilling cold did not surprise him. He guessed the layers of skirts and petticoats she wore would be heavy and uncomfortable hanging from her waist. His own clothes had lost any semblance of their original shape.
Releasing her, he stepped forward cautiously to test the depth of the water. Within a few paces, he paused and called, “I think we can get out now, Mariel. Here!” He extended his hand to her. “Let’s try.”
“Good!” She started to raise her skirts in an automatic motion to keep them from the water. Laughing at herself, she dropped them back into the waves. She could see Ian stood up to his knees in the cold blackness. It might be deeper before they reached the exit.
Her grip tightened on his hand as the motion of the water buffeted them. The undertow threatened to pull her feet out from beneath her. More than once, she clutched desperately to Ian as they reeled toward the moonlight. The pressure increased near the crevice.
Ian paused as he measured the tempo of the water. Warning Mariel to move when he gave the signal, he watched for when they would have the least resistance as they attempted to follow the water through the hole.
“Now!”
Mariel did not release his hand as they surged forward on the flow of the ebbing wave. That they were too slow she learned as an incoming one slapped her in the face and against the stones. She swallowed her moan of pain with a bitter dose of salt water. Ignoring her shoulder which had struck the wall, she continued toward the beach.
When they emerged from the waist-high water swirling through the entrance of the tunnel, she was spun into Ian’s arms. His victorious exultation was silenced as he kissed her joyously. He started to speak, but they heard shouts far down the beach.
Lanterns glowed on the strand like giant fireflies. When Ian bellowed in the tone he reserved for Sundays, the movement of the lights froze. Exclamations rolled along the water to reach them. Almost instantly they were surrounded by the townspeople who had been searching for them.
At first no one asked what had happened. Warm blankets were placed over their wet clothes. Mariel was swept away from Ian as helpful hands drew her toward the path up the cliff. She peered over her shoulder, but could not see which one he was among the press of the crowd on the strand.
Then everyone around her began pelting her with questions. Kept busy responding, she was able to forget her aching shoulder and her feet sliced by the rocks in the cave. Gentle hands lifted her into a carriage she recognized as one from Foxbridge Cloister. She only had to time to identify the driver as Walter Collins before the door closed and the carriage lurched into motion.
She peered out of the window as they turned in the direction of the Cloister. Another buggy waited for Ian among the scattered vehicles on the marsh grass. Nowhere did she see her automobile. She wanted to ask about it, but realized someone would have mentioned it if there had been trouble. She suspected it had been driven back to the Cloister.
Leaning back against the lush cushions of the carriage, she sighed. Phipps was sure to be outraged, even though their adventure had been accidental. She wondered what Rosie would be thinking. As vehement as the child had been about her not going with Ian, trouble was guaranteed. If only Rosie would relent …
Mariel sighed again. After today, nothing could be the same for her and Ian. The first kiss by the path had forced her to face what she had been fleeing for a month. She could easily love this man she had despised on first meeting. His gentleness, which covered the steely strength he fought to subdue, fascinated her. On the beach, she could dream of happiness. Back among the rest of the world, she wondered if it could be as she wished.
The harsh light of flares penetrated the windows of the carriage as it stopped by the front stairs. Dodsley swung open the carriage door before it had halted completely.
“Lady Mariel!” he cried. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “She is here! Unhurt.”
“Almost,” she answered with a grimace, as he helped her to the ground. She could not stifle a moan when he took her left arm to help her up the stairs. “My shoulder,” she whispered. “I bumped it.”
Moving his hand to her other arm, he assisted her up the steps. He shouted orders for Walter to bring Dr. Sawyer from the village. When she mumbled that the doctor was not necessary, he hushed her with uncharacteristic sternness.
He did not allow her to pause in the foyer, but led her directly up the staircase, which must have lengthened while she was away from the Cloister. She feared they would never reach the top. When the butler spoke to someone, she forced her eyes to leave the floor to meet Phipps.
The reprimand she expected was left unspoken. The older woman quietly urged Dodsley to take Lady Mariel into her rooms without waking Rosie. He assisted her to a chair and watched as she lowered herself into it gingerly.
“I have sent for the doctor, Amanda.”
“Thank you,” Phipps said without taking her eyes from the disheveled woman. “And the reverend?”
Dodsley started. “I didn’t think to ask. I can go—”
“He is fine.” The two glanced at Lady Mariel who was cradling her left arm in her right hand. “We were caught in a tidal cave by the high waves. We simply had to wait for the water to come down.”
The gray-haired woman’s lips tightened in anger, but she spoke to the butler. “I am sure they will bring him here. The guest room is available for Reve
rend Beckwith-Carter’s use.”
“Yes, Amanda. I will see to it.”
“Try to keep everyone hushed, so the child can sleep.” Her glare riveted on Mariel as she continued, “She had a great deal of difficulty going to sleep tonight, worried as she was. I hope she can rest enough so she does not take ill.”
Dodsley left to do as requested while Phipps went to run water in the tub. Mariel forced herself to her feet to follow. She saw her companion bent over the Dutch tiles, which decorated the claw-footed tub. Dropping the damp blanket on the Grecian vase styled water closet, she began undoing the hooks on the back of her dress. Involuntarily, she gasped as she stretched her aching shoulder.
“Here,” stated Phipps in her most no-nonsense voice, “let me help you with that.” As Mariel turned compliantly, she continued, “You know better than allowing the tides to catch you off-guard, Lady Mariel. There will be much talk about this.”
“Not if the truth is told.” She winced as she lowered the ruined sleeve along her arm. Meeting Phipps’s eyes squarely, she stated, “Ian and I were doing nothing illicit, if that is what you are suggesting.”
Phipps’s mouth became a straight line of disapproval. “I did not suggest that, Lady Mariel. Others will. How could you be so foolish?”
“Something in our food put us to sleep.”
“To sleep?” The older woman could not hide her horror. The thought of her charge curling up next to a man she was not married to insulted her most Victorian sensibilities. “Lady Mariel, you will not be able to show your face beyond these walls again.”
Mariel scowled as she untied her petticoats. “My face and I will continue as we have in the past. I am alive. Ian is alive. That is all that should be important. If I had not shown him the cave where my great-grandparents triumphed over their enemy, we might have drowned on the beach. That strip is covered totally by high tide water at this time of the moon.”
Phipps mumbled something and flounced out of the room, her insulted dignity evident. Untying the stiff ribbons of her underclothes, Mariel wanted to shout after her. She knew it would be useless. Phipps considered reputation to be of the ultimate importance. On this one thing, they had argued often in the past.
Sinking into the lusciously warm waters of the tub, Mariel closed her eyes to savor the heat. She wanted it to ooze all the way to the center of her bones. Only the sting in the cuts on the soles of her feet broke into the perfection. She ran her hands along the ceramic and delighted in the luxury of this bath tonight.
A knock on the bathroom door roused her from her half-slumber. When Phipps informed her the doctor had arrived, Mariel called that she would be out in a moment. Rinsing the soap from her hair, she hurried from the tub. She pulled a dressing gown over her. The loose garment would allow the doctor to examine her shoulder.
Hobbled by her sore feet, she went to greet the doctor. Dr. Sawyer did not smile as she walked unevenly toward him. His broad jowls, accented by his wide sideburns, quivered with barely suppressed emotion. Dark eyes appraised her clinically, and his frown deepened. As he motioned for her to sit on the settee, his sparse silver hair glistened in the lamplight.
“Lady Mariel, the reverend is unfamiliar with the dangers of the Cloister beach. His ignorance I can forgive, but how could you have been so foolish?”
“Please, doctor,” she said tiredly. “Miss Phipps has already regaled me with my idiocy. I will tell you what I told her. There was some impurity in our picnic food, which made both Ian and me ill.”
His rage vanished as if with the flip of a switch. “Ill? How?”
“Tired, dizzy, sick to the stomach. Just a general malaise. We lost our battle with it in the tidal cave. When we felt better, the water was too high to escape. We had to wait for it to lower.” She carefully said nothing about the unspeakable sin of falling asleep so innocently in Ian’s arms. Dr. Sawyer would be as unaccepting of that as her companion had been.
“Hmm …” He added nothing to that, but ordered her to show him the soles of her feet. Opening his bag, he pulled out a salve and lathered them generously, then he bandaged them until she was sure she would not be able to feel the floor through the many layers.
Phipps added from the shadows, “Her shoulder also, Dr. Sawyer. I understand she struck it when they were coming out of the crevice.”
Examining her through the thin material of her dressing gown, he frowned. He apologized before asking her to loosen the robe so he could see the shoulder. She tried to submerge the blush rising along her skin as his fingers moved competently along the curve of her shoulder and across the front of her chest. As soon as he was finished, she pulled it closed again.
“I think you have only bruised it, my lady. I can feel no broken bones. If it continues to bother, I can send you to the city for a Roentgen ray picture of the bones. I believe there is a technician in Liverpool.”
Emerging from the shadows, Phipps stated, “No, doctor. I will not allow such. I have heard of those so-called X-ray photographs. People have been burned badly by exposure to them.”
Dr. Sawyer nodded. “I agree. I think soaking the shoulder in epsom salts and warm water will suffice. The Roentgen rays have not yet proven that their value is greater than the risk.” He looked directly at Mariel as he ordered, “Rest, Lady Mariel. No more larks on the beach or about the shire until that shoulder is better. Do you understand?”
“Of course, doctor.” She smiled at him, knowing she had no intention of being quiet simply for a bruise on her shoulder.
In spite of his wish to intimidate her into listening to his suggestions, he could not help returning her smile. He admired Lady Mariel. More than anyone else, he understood the tragedies she had suffered. He had arrived in Foxbridge shortly before the typhoid epidemic that had killed her parents. He had been called to the house the night her twin died and often in the horrible years before then. What he knew of the Wythes, he spoke of to no one else. That Lady Mariel had survived with this resiliency impressed him.
“Very well, my lady. I am going to check on our adventuresome parson now. I suggest you go to sleep. Do not hurry to rise in the morning.”
“Soon,” she promised. “First, I want to relax with a cup of hot chocolate to take the last of the cold from me. The water is frigid this time of year.”
When the doctor chuckled and went to the room down the hall, Phipps offered to go for the cup for her lady. Mariel thanked her, but asked her to bring it to the solarium. At that moment, she did not feel like sleeping. She was not tired, for she had slumbered for hours during the afternoon.
She was not surprised to see many of the household staff waiting in the room when she entered. With pleasure, she soothed their concerns. That her disappearance had caused this much worry surprised her. She had known the Wythes were well loved by their servants, but had never expected this outpouring of emotion.
Within minutes, she was sitting on the sofa and laughing with them over her misadventures. Her voice faded as she heard the distinctive sound of Ian’s cane on the stone floor of the hallway. She stood as he limped into the solarium. Aware of the others around them, she did not rush to throw herself in his arms as she wished. Instead she asked, “What do you think of this reception?”
In the same light tone, he said, “More than I expected.” Phipps arrived with a tray. She handed him a cup of steaming chocolate and urged him to drink it. He took a sip, but did not remove his eyes from Mariel. Dressed in a mauve silk dressing gown with her hair in dark waves along her back, he wondered if anyone could be more desirable than this blithe spirit.
“Reverend,” repeated Phipps insistently before he realized she had spoken to him once.
“Yes, Miss Phipps?”
“Please sit down. You must be exhausted. If you will give me a list of what you need, I can have clothes brought for you from the parsonage.”
Tightening the belt of the too wide smoking jacket he wore over trousers which did not reach his ankles, he shook his head. Lord Fox
bridge’s wardrobe had yielded little to fit him. This was the best available. He placed the barely touched cup on a table. “There is no need to put yourselves out like this, Miss Phipps. If I can impose on one of our rescuers to give me a ride into the village, I will—”
“Nonsense!” she retorted. “Neither you nor Lady Mariel are stirring from the Cloister until you are rested. I cannot understand why you chose today to go to the beach. It is barely spring. If you do not take care, you may catch your death of cold.”
Mariel put her hand on Ian’s arm as she moved to stand next to him. “Orders,” she said with a light laugh. “I have learned it is better not to argue with Phipps when she uses this tone.”
Much later—long after all of the searchers had left to seek their own homes and hours since they had washed the salty crust from their skin, the adrenalin of their adventure having seeped away to leave them so exhausted they could not think of moving—Ian found himself alone with Mariel. Phipps had reluctantly gone to bed when she could stay awake no longer, but had left no doubts that the two would be well chaperoned by the staff of the house.
He smiled at that thought and regarded Mariel with her feet hidden beneath the silk folds of her robe. She reclined on a settee. He rested his feet on a hassock as he stared at the dance of the flames on the hearth.
“I should go home.”
“In the morning,” she murmured. “It must be nearly dawn already. You are welcome to stay here to sleep, Ian.”
He smiled. “Yes, I would say you have the room. Now I can understand why you welcomed the idea of bringing Rosie to live with you. Did you ever get lonely here all by yourself?”
“Yes.”
At her strangely terse answer, he lifted his head from where it leaned on his fist. All fatigue vanished when he saw her sorrowful expression. Softly, he said, “You still miss your twin sister?”
“It sounds odd, but I do. When she died, it was as if a part of me did, too. Not that I always liked her. Sometimes I hated her. We were sisters, after all, and she was as strongwilled as I am. Maybe it comes from being together before memory begins.” Suddenly, she sat up and said in a tight voice, “I don’t want to talk about this, Ian.”
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