Secret Pleasures

by Cheryl Howe

  The earl stared straight ahead. Ivy’s ears burned. She would send word to Samuel to persuade the priest by whatever means necessary to adhere to his Christian duty.

  “Excuse me, please.” The earl stood suddenly and stumbled from the room.

  “What have you done, Robert?” Lily stood while her father left the room, then collapsed in her chair and tossed her napkin on her plate in a very unladylike gesture. “Do you have any idea who Diana de Rachelle was?”

  “Who?” said Lea. “I’ve never heard of her.”

  “She was a famous something or other.” Robert found his food suddenly fascinating, avoiding everyone’s gazes.

  “The story is too complicated,” Lily said abruptly. “Well, you could at least have had respect for Ivy. She does not want to hear such gossip. I’m sorry, dear. I’m sure you’d like to forget about your past.”

  “I’m sure no one will let me, Lily, so no need to apologize.” Ivy had avoided her wine glass for most of the night, but decided she’d risk her nervous stomach’s displeasure and drained it.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Lily clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture and did look both frazzled and sincere.

  “Oh, hell. A man just wants to hear a good bit of gossip and all he gets is news of his own family. God love the English.” Major Rand Fitzgerald gave them all a toast and grabbed the bottle of wine from the servant who attempted to refill his glass.

  “How did she die?” Darien said quietly. Ivy glanced at him and noticed he was as pale as his father before he’d stumbled from the room.

  “Well, some say consumption but others say…opium overdose,” Robert said.

  “She was ill.” All eyes turned to Ivy and she wished she could take back her words. Protecting Melody’s identity was even more important than ever. She prayed Diana would forgive her for pretending she did not truly know her dear friend. “I had not seen her in some time, but she had struggled with her health for the last few years.”

  “I had no idea.” Darien shook his head and stared into his plate.

  “Perhaps we should be on our way. It has been a trying night for all of us.” Ivy stood, refusing to continue the conversation for another moment.

  The earl’s reaction to Diana’s death troubled her as much as anything. Could he possibly suspect his former mistress had a child and wonder where that child might be at this very moment?

  ***

  Melody’s wails greeted Ivy the moment she darted through Darien’s front door. She ran up the stairs and found a bleary-eyed Hannah pacing the perimeter of the small bedroom. “Oh, miss, I am so happy to see you. She has been fussy since the moment you left. Even spitting out the sheep’s milk though I knew she gobbles it up most times.”

  “Is she feverish?” Ivy took the screaming child from Hannah. Melody had cried until her eyelids had nearly swollen shut. Ivy brought Melody’s forehead to her cheek. “She’s not hot.”

  Melody suddenly took a gasping breath and whimpered instead of screamed. She had undoubtedly cried herself into pure exhaustion.

  “I tried to give her the bottle, but she just turned her head away and wailed harder.”

  “Thank you, Hannah. I’m sure you did everything you could. Did you give her any of the tincture? I know I told you I wanted her to be weaned off her medicine but—”

  “I tried but she thrashed about so much I feared I’d drop the little bottle. She’s very stubborn for such a wee one, Miss.”

  Ivy thought Melody had to be stubborn to still be alive. Ivy held the child tightly to her breast. Melody sucked up her tears, but her little wounded sighs were just as painful to Ivy’s ears.

  “I think she does not like to be without her mum, miss.”

  Ivy adjusted Melody so she could look into her face. Melody sucked in her lip and looked forlornly at Ivy, her eyebrows drawn together as if she were offended Ivy had left her for the evening.

  “I think you are right, Hannah. I hope I haven’t spoiled her overly much.”

  Hannah seemed to brighten that Ivy was not angry with her care. “My ma says it gives her hope that a fine lady like yourself would take care of her own babe instead of foisting her off on her servants.”

  “Well that is kind of your mother, but I have to admit, none of the nannies I hired lasted very long.” Melody stared into her eyes as if trying to impart something critical. When that failed, she let out a blood curdling scream. Ivy pressed her to her chest and started to bounce her.

  “Oh no, there she goes again,” said the obviously exhausted girl.

  “Thank you, Hannah, for staying. Why don’t you run downstairs and ask Darien to drive you home before he unhooks the horses.”

  “Thank you, Miss Ivy. I have never ridden in a carriage before.” The girl darted from the room, and Ivy adjusted Melody, who continued to scream. The brown dropper of opium lay beside the full milk bottle.

  Melody had slept so soundly the last couple of nights. Ivy detested putting more of the hateful drug into the baby’s system. After the recent reminder of her mother’s death, Ivy decided to try rocking her before she resorted to the tincture. Juggling Melody, the milk bottle and several baby cloths, Ivy went downstairs into Darien’s darkened front room.

  She settled into the wooden chair despite her tight corset and beaded train. A square piece of cloth thrown over her shoulder was all the protection she had time for, though baby spittle would likely never come out of her raw silk bodice. Melody tried to fight Ivy’s gentle caress, but the rock of the chair lulled her despite her resistance.

  The brook sounded from an open window in the kitchen, adding a calming effect.

  After a few minutes, Melody appeared to drift off to sleep though Ivy didn’t dare move her to find out. The silence that settled around Ivy gave her no peace. Even in death, did Diana have to be abused, misunderstood, speculated about without a measure of human compassion? Ivy prayed the need for more ghastly scandal would not lead to the discovery of Melody. Was there someone in London who knew about Melody?

  Suddenly Ivy feared the earl might want his child after all. He ran his family with an iron fist and she certainly did not want that for Melody. He would no doubt silence Melody’s cries of outrage, or rather just let her scream to no avail. Then she wondered, had he actually been distraught by news of Diana’s passing? It certainly appeared that way.

  Ivy lifted the babe from her shoulder, determined for her to finish at least half of her bottle, coaxing the infant to take the nipple and drink. Melody would need her strength for their escape.

  On the carriage ride back from Westhaven House, Ivy concluded that Italy would not be far enough to escape her infamy. No, she and her daughter would travel to America. Even contemplating the notion spun Ivy into fear and despair. But the rash idea would not be squashed despite her best efforts. Even death had proved not far enough removed for poor Diana to have a moment’s peace. To ensure Melody’s future required drastic measures. Ivy could write to her friend in Cornwall. Her American husband had shipping interests and would not only secure her passage but provide introductions for a widow and her child.

  Though she had promised Darien that she would stay a month, Ivy feared she would break that promise if anyone came snooping around about Melody. She studied Melody’s unhappy face. Unfortunately, the baby would have none of Ivy’s plans for taking nourishment and jerked her head away, refusing to drink. Now she screamed in earnest. Though half the bottle’s contents did disappear, most of the pungent milk had landed on Ivy’s gown.

  The sad, sweet wail of a violin drifted through the open kitchen window and hushed Melody instantly. She blinked away tears and turned her head to the strange new sound. At first, Ivy thought the forlorn song was a figment of her imagination. Diana had loved the violin and her sad spirit seemed to fill the room along with the music. As the tune continued, the player’s skill became most obvious. Even Melody continued to listen, remaining quietly intrigued.

  Ivy realized the musici
an could only be Darien. He must have never stopped playing. The knowledge filled her with hope. The earl had not completely broken his son’s artistic spirit, no matter how hard he’d tried. Not only had Darien apparently not given up his musical studies, he had gotten much better.

  Ivy rose from the chair, then swayed into the kitchen in time to the music, Melody now content in her arms. She walked out the front door and eventually found Darien in the side yard, moonlight shining upon his dark hair, the babbling brook seeming to become more rhythmic in accompaniment to Darien’s song. His eyes were closed and he seemed lost in the melody.

  He must have heard her slippers crunch a twig because he stopped playing and swung around.

  “That’s beautiful,” Ivy said. “I don’t recognize the tune. Is it Mozart?”

  “Far from it.” He bowed. “Yours truly.”

  “Darien.” Ivy could not hide the raw emotion in her voice. “It’s magnificent. I had no idea you had become such an accomplished violinist. Have you been taking lessons again?”

  “I have been the pupil of moonlight and Irish whiskey for many years.” He strode toward her and casually hid the instrument behind his back. His father’s ridicule at his passion had obviously taken root in the man. “Did I wake her?”

  Ivy glanced down at Melody. Her eyes wandered to Darien at his approach and she smiled. “Not at all. I think she loved it. She’s stopped crying. Play some more.”

  “No, that piece is only making me sad.”

  She studied his face. His eyes were red and strained as if he’d been fighting tears.

  “Are you all right?” Ivy wondered what had set him off. There were so many conflicting memories, and too many ghosts to guess which he’d stumbled upon at Westhaven that had affected him so.

  “I should have done something for her. I guessed she was in bad shape but, I had no idea she was that ill.”

  “Diana?” Ivy studied Darien’s sorrow-stricken face. “I was not aware that you two knew each other.”

  “Lost souls love company.” Darien kicked at something in the dirt with the toe of his boot.

  “When did you see Diana last?” Ivy clutched Melody, wondering if Darien had any idea he might have a half-sister.

  “A while ago. Let’s not talk of it. Our last meeting would not honor her memory, nor make me look like anything but an ass. Which I am sure you—”

  Melody, who had begun to fuss in Ivy’s arms, suddenly let out an eardrum-piercing scream.

  “Hurry. Play something.” Ivy bounced Melody.

  Darien jumped into action. He played a lively jig and hopped in circles to his own tune. Melody was not amused and screamed with such force she drowned out the violin.

  “No, the other tune. Hurry.”

  Darien switched to the mournful tune he had been playing earlier. The music drifted over them and Melody settled down. Ivy found the steps for the back door leading to the kitchen and sat, Melody cradled in her arms. The sorrow on Darien’s face as he played made the tune all the more haunting. Melody stuck her thumb in her mouth and let her heavy eyelids fall against her cheeks. She watched as Darien stared into the utter darkness, playing as if he could drive away the night. Ivy did not want to forget Diana, though claiming Melody as her own is what she must do for now. Even well-meaning Darien could cause more harm if he suspected Melody’s connection to his father. After all, look what losing his brother had done to him. He was grieving so many losses.

  Ivy rested her chin lightly against Melody’s soft head and mourned Diana for both of them. She hadn’t had the opportunity to properly pay respect to Diana’s passing. At least someone else realized the world would be a dimmer place without Diana de Rachelle to shock them from their grey moral fortitude.

  Darien’s tune came to a slow sad end.

  “I knew Diana, too,” she said, needing to talk about the woman who had given her so much, even the little bundle in her arms. Ivy once again had a future. A future that could be filled with love and laughter.

  “I know,” he said.

  “How could you?” Diana had befriended Ivy after her broken engagement to Darien. Before that, neither of them had dared to run in Diana’s heady circles. “My relationship with Diana was rather unique, private.” Ivy decided not to tell Darien that they understood each other. He would assume something sinister, which her relationship with Diana definitely was not.

  “So was mine. Diana would put me up when I was too belligerent to be admitted to any London establishment, respectable or otherwise.”

  “She never mentioned you two were friends.” But then again, she had always talked of Darien Blackmore in the familiar. Ivy only suspected the reason being that Diana was on such intimate terms with the earl, so it would be natural for her to discuss his troubled family as if she knew them personally. Diana had loved Darien’s romantic nature and scorned his father for sending his music teacher packing, or selling the boy’s instruments.

  “Her profession called for discretion, did it not?”

  “You slept with her?” Ivy said a little too loudly and was relieved Melody had not been startled.

  “You should not sound so outraged.” He grinned a little too smugly. “I have not been celibate all these years.”

  “I never expected you had.” All right, she had at least fantasized about it, and this latest revelation was just more overwhelming proof to the contrary.

  Darien walked to where Ivy sat on the step and leaned on one knee before her. “Diana and I were friends,” he said quietly. “I don’t wish to dishonor her memory by saying anything more or less. In fact, we were kindred spirits in a way.”

  Ivy clutched her daughter to her breast, sure she was working herself up into a panic for no reason whatsoever. Melody shifted and Ivy loosened her grip.

  “Play the tune again. She’s about to wake.”

  He seemed to relax, believing Ivy had accepted his vague declaration. Little did he know, Ivy only had more questions but needed time to ensure she ask them very carefully.

  He bowed, then brought the violin to his chin. “Diana liked this melody, too.”

  Melody. Diana had named her child Melody, fathered by a kindred spirit. Ivy closed her eyes and cherished the feel of Darien’s child in her arms for one shining moment before dread curled around her heart.

  But to my surprise, delight and sheer dismay, I have been forced into the light by love.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Arianna eased her mount upon the stone bridge. She paused to listen for another rider. Strangely, a violin’s mournful song cut across the forest’s whispers. Below, a stream gurgled past hidden croaking frogs. Wooded silence stretched out in the distance. The music drifted from somewhere not too far away, but she found the tune more haunting than comforting. A twig broke behind her. Arianna turned in her saddle, causing the unfamiliar horse to stumble forward.

  Her heart raced with the knowledge that she had no idea if Robert had actually received her message. Arianna had no knowledge of Devon, not the land, nor the people. She had been a fool to risk going about at night alone, but Robert’s family resided only a few miles north. It was the closest they’d been to each other in what seemed like an eternity. Robert would come. He had to feel her presence just as clearly as she did his.

  A figure emerged from the shadows. His dark coat blew out behind him. A brimmed hat shadowed his face. He appeared an unearthly visitor cut out from the night. Arianna held her breath at the sight of him. They had not spoken a word in almost six months, but Arianna had thought of nothing else but the feel of his lips pressed against hers. She had relived their every moment together in vivid detail, extending the encounters to the most lurid conclusion she could imagine. Studying anatomy and listening to whispered rumors could only get a semi-sheltered virgin so far.

  Arianna slid from the horse, wanting to run to him, embrace him, but she hesitated. He stopped and watched her from the other side of the bridge. He seemed taller, more broad shouldered. Perhaps it was the
coat he wore, one she didn’t recognize.

  “Are you angry?” she called.

  His face remained in the shadows. Moonlight spilled onto his crisp, white neckcloth. Except for his shirt, his clothes were entirely black but obviously well tailored. He wore highly polished knee boots that reflected soft light from the moving brook below. Robert had always been too busy with his studies to polish his boots much less cut his shaggy hair.

  “Robert, is that you?”

  The man did not move. Did not say a word.

  “Excuse me, I must be confused.” Arianna took a step backward. “I am meeting someone here.” She turned and reached for the reins of her horse, but the animal must have wandered. A glance over her shoulder found her mount on the other side of the bridge, nosing around in the grass.

  Then the man’s boots sounded against the stone bridge as he started toward her. Had he slipped off his horse so silently? Arianna picked up her skirts and ran for her horse. How foolish could she be? She should have at least waited for a reply from Robert.

  After stumbling only a few desperate steps, he grabbed her firmly under her breasts and dragged her roughly against him. Her anguished scream only managed to spook her horse. The mount galloped back down the path they’d come, probably returning to the stable from where she’d “borrowed” him.

  The man shoved her against the stone railing. She swiped at his face. He grabbed her wrists and held them tightly.

  Arianna took another breath to scream. The violin continued to wail in the distance.

  “Stop it, Arianna. Do you want to awaken all of Westhaven?”

  “Robert,” she said, immediately ceasing her struggles, but he did not release his painful grip.

  His hat had come off and his shorn hair made him appear older. He’d grown tanner and more fit in Cornwall. And much more serious.

  She tried to kiss him but he turned his head, pressing her harder into the bridge. The fact he used his body to hold her in place made Arianna not mind at all.