by Janet Woods
One bright summer’s day Adele had made a paper boat and written a message on it for him before launching it. She’d been fifteen, and wouldn’t tell him what the message said. She’d blushed and he’d kissed her. Her first kiss, she’d said later, and that on a mouth so soft he’d wanted to eat it.
He could almost hear her voice, creamy with a mixture of amusement and laughter. ‘If you can catch the boat you can read the message.’ He’d waded into the stream after it, slipped and fell, and her laughter had been free and uninhibited when his hat went sailing off. ‘Catch me a trout for my dinner,’ she said and he’d floundered about groping in the dappled shadows under the bank.
Smiling a little Ryder dragged his mind back to the present. ‘Any luck, Hal?’
Hal squatted on the bank and peered into the shadowy depths of the stream. ‘There’s a stone blocking the hole so the gate cannot be fully extended nor completely close. I might have to wade in and retrieve it.’ He poked at the sluice gate with the handle of the hayfork. ‘That stone is too big to have washed there by itself.
‘Be careful. The water will be cold, and it’s deeper than it looks there. Use the horse. There a rope in my saddlebag that we might be able to loop over the stone and drag it to shallow water.’
The exercise was accomplished without too much trouble. A small current of water ran freely through the gate as the excess from the pond began to drain.
Lifting the stone between them they heaved it aside and inch-by-inch they cranked the handle of the sluice to halfway. They managed to achieve an even flow over a short space of time. The ducks kept a vigilant eye on them and quacked their approval now and again.
The two men emerged wet, cold and uncomfortable, to discover they were being watched by a rustic geriatric who was sucking on an empty pipe. An equally ancient dog nudged against his leg and offered his master an expression of adoration through clouded eyes.
‘He won’t like you doing that,’ the man offered.
‘Who won’t?’
‘Mr Ashburn.’
‘Refer Mr Ashburn to me if he complains and give him this message. Tell him we’ve repaired the sluice and expect it to be properly maintained from now on.’
‘And who might you be, sir?’
‘Lord Madigan.’
The man grinned and touched his hat. ‘Reckon you are at that since he wasn’t one to avoid getting his hands dirty when there was real work to be done. Welcome home, my lord.’
New year came and they celebrated, the church bell making a clamour. Adele was too weak to really enjoy it. Her aunt Patience had knitted her some pink woolly bed socks and Prudence had made her a knee rug from brightly coloured squares.
Ryder carried her down the stairs in company of a maid. The intimacy of his warm body reminded her of times past, of childhood, and the happiness of being with him, so she felt all weepy. His chin, closely shaved and a mere inch or so from her mouth, tantalized. ‘Ryder … my lord … thank you.’
‘There’s no need to thank me. I thought your aunts would like to visit for a short time, though the doctor thought it might exhaust you. I’ve told them they may take afternoon tea with you, and must stay no longer than an hour.’
His clipped tone said he was still vexed with her. She wanted to kiss the little dimple at the side of his mouth, make him as aware of her as she was of him, but the maid was there, effectively blocking any intimacies.
The doctor had been right. Adele was soon exhausted by her aunts’ chatter as they fussed about her, but she clung on to the precious hour.
Ryder personally escorted the two women home in the carriage.
Four
Adele was grateful for Ryder’s hospitality, though he rarely sought her company unless it was with Hal in tow, and he didn’t invite her to join him at table.
His polite indifference to her presence in his home was hurtful, but understandable.
Hal collected her aunts for another visit, and they chattered on until she was exhausted and fell asleep. It was almost dark when she woke, to find her visitors gone and Ryder standing by her bedside gazing down at her. He said nothing when she spoke his name, just nodded, and then turned on his heel and left.
People visited and she heard snatches of talk and grumbles of laughter. Ryder raised his voice on one occasion. Hearing her home mentioned she had eavesdropped on the conversation by standing at the top of the stairs. The voices were coming from the study and the door was ajar.
‘I can understand your frustration over the matter, but I don’t care whose land you think Duck Pond Cottage is on. Until your claim is proven and the law decides I will not have the lives of the Manning sisters disrupted. Duck Pond Cottage has been their home since they were born. Their mother brought it into the marriage. If the water in the stream is allowed to back up and the chalk under it becomes waterlogged, the foundations will be weakened and then the place will be of no use to anyone. Do you understand me, Mr Ashburn?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Good. Then let’s put that behind us and get on with looking at your plan for the estate.’
The door had been closed before she’d heard an answer but it was clear that there was a dispute over the ownership of the cottage. She had the deeds and she had her grandmother’s will, so her claim was safe if it came to anything.
On the first day of March she’d recovered enough to leave Madigan House. Ryder had not once been desirous of her company. Whilst he’d avoided her she’d done the same to him. Two months earlier a posy of satiny snowdrops on her tray had given her hope that he might forgive her, but it had come to nothing.
She’d heard the distant rumble of his voice now and again, and had watched him come and go from her window. Sometimes she’d sensed him near, as though he stood at the other side of the door, hand raised to knock, but too hesitant. Now and again the dog had sniffed the gap under the door and kicked up a fuss, but it had probably caught the scent of a mouse.
Mostly, Sarah stayed with her so she had a companion. Sometimes the girl took Gypsy for a walk and returned with her face glowing. Though she was free to come and go as she pleased, Sarah took responsibility for Adele and shouldered most of the work. She kept their room clean, washed and ironed their garments and fetched their meals from the kitchen.
Hal spent an hour in their company during the afternoons. He told tales about his life as a soldier embroidered by caustic little comments that made her laugh, and he kept her up to date about what was going on in the house.
The doctor’s twice-weekly visits became one. On his final visit he pronounced her free from infection.
Only rarely had Hal mentioned Ryder, but she’d caught glimpses of him from the window. Six years had skimmed the downy softness of youth from his cheeks and his face had become angular. He was still handsome. More so in fact for his face was now tempered by the maturity he’d grown into and the presence that had come with it. He was a lean, taut man with a graceful walk.
One day a carriage with the Madigan crest pulled by a handsome pair of dark bays appeared in the drive. Hal had promised to escort them to Brackenhurst when they were ready.
That time had come. She was loath to go, but had no reason to stay. Neither was there any encouragement. She finished packing the trunk Hal had brought them and rang for Mrs Betts. ‘Would you tell Mr Stover we’re ready to depart?’
Hal and Sarah took the luggage down followed by Gypsy, who displayed no intention of being left behind. Adele had already written a note to Ryder, thanking him for his hospitality. She took a final look around their chamber doubting if she’d ever come here again, for he was unlikely to invite her. If things hadn’t gone horribly wrong all those years ago she would have been the mistress of this house and might have had a child or two to share with him.
She sighed, propping the note for Ryder against the inkwell. She should express her thanks in person, but she doubted if he’d want her to seek him out.
‘I’m coming, Sarah,’ she said, heari
ng a footstep behind her.
‘It’s not Sarah … it’s me.’
She spun round, shocked, and then took a hasty step backwards and brushed against the desk. The hessian bags fell to the floor with a clatter, and the contents slid and spun across the floor, scattering everywhere, until a series of solid clunks brought everything to a halt against the blanket chest. Ryder scooped the spilled contents up and pushed them back into the bags.
Had he materialized from her thoughts? Her guilt enabled her to see the wound she’d scarred him with, reflecting in the depths of his eyes like a turbulent ocean. Her heart thumped erratically before it returned to normal. ‘Ryder … what are you doing here?’
There was a wry twist to his smile. ‘I live here … remember. This was my bedchamber before I left.’
She didn’t know what to say or what she should do. Apologize perhaps.
‘Ryder … there’s something I need to say.’
‘I received your message from Sarah. It doesn’t need to be repeated.’
Knowing he would never forgive her she said awkwardly, ‘Thank you for your hospitality.’
‘Think nothing of it. I’d do the same for anyone in the same situation.’
That hurt, and tears pricked the back of her eyes. ‘I won’t bother you any more.’
‘You don’t bother me now, so no … I don’t suppose you will.’
He was lying, she thought, and she wanted to reach out and touch his cheek but the air of remoteness about him kept them apart. She said, ‘Don’t, Ryder. You’re too fine a man to indulge in spite.’
His glance flitted over her face, touched on her eyes, her nose and then lingered on her mouth for a moment. His expression softened a little. ‘You always could disarm me. You haven’t changed much, Del.’
Del? Only Ryder had ever called her that and the feeling of loss at hearing it again was nearly her undoing. He was close – too close, so she could smell the soap his servant had shaved him with. He’d left the fine bloom of youth behind and was a man – a man with all the power that came with that state. He knew it and was making her aware of it.
If she took a step forward she could lean into his warmth and feel his arms circle her, like she used to. She closed her eyes against that moment of temptation, remembering the way his chin used to rest on the top of her head and his breath stir through her hair. A little shiver trembled through her and for a moment she felt safe. She took a deep breath, inhaling the essence of him before she said, ‘I must go, Sarah will be waiting for me.’
‘Yes … it wouldn’t do to keep anyone waiting.’
She ignored that. ‘I’ll reimburse you for my wardrobe once I’m settled.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘Yes … I must, I don’t want to be in your debt.’
Was there a touch of irony to his mouth? ‘As you wish. You know, Del, you’re the only woman I’ve ever cried over since my mother died, but at least I’ve now been given the opportunity to say goodbye. Since we are no longer on familiar terms, from now on it would be best if we addressed each other in the correct manner, don’t you think?’
Heat flooded her face and she murmured, ‘Familiar strangers, do you mean? I’m sincerely sorry for the wrong I caused you, my lord. May we leave it there for now or do you wish to humble me further?’
‘Not as much as I’d like to.’ It was Ryder who took that step forward. Taking her chin between thumb and forefinger he tilted her face up to his. His mouth against hers was moist, tender and wounded. She wanted to kiss his hurt away but found herself powerless in the face of the accusation it contained. It had been a long time between caresses but an essential ingredient had been missing from it – love.
‘That will be reimbursement enough for now,’ he said and ran his finger down her nose. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Pelham.’
‘My lord,’ she whispered, and she turned on her heel and ran from the room before she had time to protest, or worse, weep with self-pity for what she’d lost.
She went down and the doors leading off the hall were closed against her. She could hear Gypsy yapping, sharp and urgent in the house. Somebody had closed him in the library. She remembered he was Ryder’s dog, not hers.
It had been a while since she’d been outside. The wind had an exhilarating, buffeting playfulness to it, reminding her it was March. She flattened her palms against her bonnet lest it fly away on its one ostrich feather … though she’d heard that the ostrich was too heavy to fly. She enjoyed the sensation of the fresh day and the dapple of sunlight and shadow as the trees did their own joyous dance.
It was if she’d just begun to emerge from a long sleep – a nightmare really. She should have run from Edgar, and kept running, but she’d had no money, and what he earned was gambled away. The times she tried it he’d come after her. She shuddered to think of the consequence that followed.
She had not thought to see Ryder again.
Her mouth was vibrant and alive with his taste and the shadow of his kiss tantalized. She ran the tip of her tongue over its heat and the wind cooled the moisture into another diamond-sharp clarity of memory. She smiled at the pleasure it afforded her, despite the anger it contained.
Hal gave her a searching look as he handed her into the carriage, but said nothing as he climbed in after her and tucked a rug over her knees. The coachman cracked his whip and they were off.
Looking back at the house Adele saw Ryder emerge from the front door, the struggling dog in his arms. He placed him down and Gypsy began to chase them. At her request, Hal called to the coachman to stop and the dog came racing up and flung himself through the opened door into the carriage and into her lap.
Ryder stood in the porch, making no attempt at concealment – but why should he when this was his home?
She flattened her hands and cheek against the window as they took the gentle curve towards the gate, looking back at him. The sun came out and his image twisted through ripples of slightly distorted glass, as if he were dancing. He wore an air of loneliness. A lump came to her throat when they were out of sight.
Hal offered her a smile when she straightened. He was a quiet man with an air of toughness about him – someone you’d want on your side.
‘Will you be staying long at Madigan House?’ she asked.
‘I’ll stay long enough to help the earl repair the estate cottages. I would hope to finish the commission by the end of August in time for the harvest. Someone took advantage of the earl’s absence to practically demolish the workers’ cottages. Ryder is of a mind to marry and settle down. He wants the estate to be in good working order in case he fathers an heir.’
Jealousy grated shreds from her heart. ‘And then what will you do?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll probably move back to Hampshire. I don’t know anybody there but an aunt left me some property. I could go back to my profession, though I prefer working in the open air to legal. Or I might go back into the army.’
‘You’re not married, then?’
‘My wife and unborn infant died from scarlet fever.’
‘That must have been hard to cope with. You should marry again and produce a family. It would give you a purpose in life and you’d make a wonderful father.’ She placed a hand on his sleeve. ‘I’m sorry you’re going, Hal, but Hampshire isn’t too far away. I hope you’ll visit us, since it feels as though you belong to my family.’
To which he laughed. ‘Are you proposing to me?’
‘Oh my goodness, is that what is sounded like? I’m afraid not, Hal, and you know why. It would be doing you a disservice since I see you as more of a brother.’
‘Then I’ll be contented to remain in that role. You should take your own advice perhaps.’
‘I’m not looking for a husband.’
‘Perhaps one is looking for you. He might tap you on the shoulder one day.’
She imagined Hal was referring to Ryder and shook her head. It would never happen now. All the same, it would be sad if she never saw Hal again.
He was a decent man with an air of toughness about him, and she liked and trusted him. ‘Perhaps you should open your office in Dorset, then we can see you often.’
‘Now that’s an idea worth thinking about,’ he said.
When the carriage drew up at the gate of Duck Pond Cottage, Adele’s aunts came rushing out. Words and exclamations tumbled out of them and she was kissed soundly from all directions, as was Sarah.
‘You look so thin, my dear … don’t you think so, Patience?’
Tears filled Patience’s eyes. ‘Just a little, but we’ll soon fatten her up, like the goose at Christmas.’
Not quite as plump as that, Adele thought.
Hal was kissed on both cheeks by the aunts and the chatter began. ‘Such a sweet man, the cottage is drying out nicely now you’ve repaired the sluice gate.’
‘Did the earl come with you? No? Oh dear, such a pity, and we’ve knitted you a muffler apiece.’
‘It’s a reward for looking after our niece so well. But never mind; first served is best served, or so they say, and you shall have the first pick, Sergeant. One is blue and the other red.’
‘You must be feeling the cold after spending all that time meditating in a hermit’s cave in India, don’t you think so, Prudence?’
Prudence shivered. ‘And fancy the earl surviving the bite of a deadly giant cobra too. Goodness … how heroic and exciting a time you must have had. Who would have thought it.’
Hal raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘Fancy, indeed? The snake takes on more proportion with each telling. The earl charmed the snake right out of the basket with a song, and then he bit the snake in retribution. It died on the spot.’
Sarah giggled, Prudence snorted and Patience chuckled. ‘That’s a tall tale if I’ve ever heard one. We were not born yesterday, young man. The sergeant can wear his muffler and carry the other one back to the earl,’ she said.
‘Of course he can. How clever of you to think of it, Patience.’
Sarah was next for their attention. ‘My goodness, what a lovely, quiet girl, and such a tragedy to be left all alone in the world.’
