by Danice Allen
“I shall never marry. But even if I did, there would always be a distinction drawn between Victoria and the other children, if not by me or my wife, by other people. No, I want only the very best for Victoria, and if that means I must give her up, so be it. Besides, I shall be her uncle Zachary and shall come regularly to Ockley Hall to see her. You will grant me that indulgence, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, brother.” Zach’s hand was resting on the chair arm, and Alex reached across and covered it with his. Zach turned his hand, palm up, and clasped Alex’s in a strong grip. “God, Zach, I was afraid I’d lost you again.” Alex choked out the words.
“Only wishful thinking, brother,” Zach returned playfully, though his own voice was hoarse with emotion. “You and I are shackled together for life.”
“And Beth? If you have forgiven me, I pray God you have forgiven her, too,” Alex ventured.
A shadow crossed Zach’s face for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve loved Beth forever and shall do so till I die, I suppose. I think I understand my feelings for her much better now. I truly wish her the very best life has to offer.”
“Will you tell her that?” asked Alex.
“Yes.”
“She’s waiting in her room for your summons. Shall I go and get her now? Or would you rather wait till tomorrow to talk to her?”
Zach sighed softly. “No, I want to make my peace with Beth tonight.”
Alex stood up to leave, but Zach stopped him. “Bring the baby, too. Let me see her before you take her away.”
Alex nodded and left the room, returning in a few moments with Beth and the baby. Zach had roused himself sufficiently to light up the room to a reasonable brightness and had also made an attempt to straighten his disheveled clothes and hair. He had propped his shoulder against the mantelpiece and was waiting for them with a rather transparent air of ease, for Alex could tell that Zach’s mind and heart were besieged with diverse and painful thoughts and feelings. Zach’s eyes fixed first on Beth as she entered the room, then on the small bundle she held in her arms.
Beth appeared to feel timid in Zach’s presence, a singular happenstance in their long friendship. But so much had changed between them. Alex watched from a distance as Beth walked slowly up to Zach, as all the while Zach stared at the flannel-wrapped scrap of humanity she cradled against her chest.
“Hello, Zach.”
Zach lifted his gaze from the bundle to Beth’s eyes—her softly pleading eyes. Without words being spoken, without the slightest movement made by either, forgiveness and love flowed between them. “Hello, Beth.” He pushed away from the mantelpiece and stepped closer, his eyes once more drawn to the child. “What have you there?”
Beth smiled and extended her arms. “Why don’t you hold her?”
Zach hesitated, agonized indecision written in his expression. “I don’t think I should.”
“Why not? She might as well get used to the feel of her uncle Zachary’s arms about her. I’ve a feeling he’s going to spoil her shamefully at every opportunity.”
The corners of Zach’s mouth lifted in a tentative smile. He cast Beth a grateful look, then slowly, carefully, self-consciously, took the baby into his arms.
It was a sight Alex would not soon forget. Zach, all six feet two inches of him, was utterly captivated, completely enthralled by a small human being who couldn’t have weighed more than five pounds. For Zach’s sake, for Tessy’s sake, and indeed for Victoria’s sake, too, Alex knew then that he had irreversibly allotted a large portion of his heart to Zach’s child. His protection, his name, and a father’s commitment naturally were included in the portion that he willingly gave.
He caught Beth’s gaze, knew she cherished identical feelings, and was glad.
Dudley had taken the baby in the dead of night to a small cottage across the moor in the opposite direction from St. Teath. A wet nurse awaited her there, as did another capable woman recommended by Sadie to tend her till Alex and Beth could pick her up on the way to Dover, from which port they would continue on to Italy. The two women were paid well to keep mum. All the servants at Pencarrow—except, of course, Sadie and Dudley—were told the following morning that the babe had died during the night and had been placed in her mother’s arms inside the closed coffin.
It was a reasonable lie to tell and an easy one to believe. After all, the child was two months premature. Beth still feared that she might die suddenly from some quirk of nature despite her apparently hearty constitution. But the baby was a scrapper. Game for life, it seemed. She thanked God for that.
Zach pinned the cameo brooch to Tessy’s bodice, and after one last tender, regretful look at her still-beautiful face, Zach had Dudley nail shut the coffin. While he was tempted to keep the coffin open so that he might look at Tess till the last possible moment, Zach was afraid one of the servants might wander into the antechamber just off the drawing room for a glimpse of Tess and discover that the babe did not lie with her mother.
Everyone—the vicar, the servants, and all the others who would hear the tale secondhand—must all believe that Tessy’s baby had died and had been buried with her. This was the only way their plan for Victoria’s salvation from her parents’ indiscretions would succeed. Only by beginning her life in a masquerade as Beth’s and Alex’s child would Victoria stand a chance of not being branded as a merry-begotten, a child of the mist or any other euphemism for an illegitimate offspring.
As Beth, Alex, and Dudley gathered in the drawing room that morning, Beth reflected that so far the plan had come off as neat as wax. The vicar had arrived at the house promptly at nine, displaying an expected amount of barely concealed beatific revulsion to Tess’s lamentable, sin-ridden life and nodding his head with a knowing, pious purse to his lips when he was told that God had taken the child as well.
“Poor wretched souls,” he said, clicking his venerable tongue and implying quite ably that Tess and the child had received their just desserts. Beth was thankful that Zach had not been present to hear the vicar’s sanctimonious expressions, but only came down the stairs in time to follow the coffin as it was taken out through the front door.
Beth and Alex walked on either side of Zach, their arms locked with his. They glanced often at one another, their eyes conveying love, support, grief, and hope.
Dudley, walking just behind them with the vicar, had been nearly run off his legs accomplishing all of the tasks he was only too willing to do. The fact was, due to the necessary secrecy attached to many of the tasks, and also simply because he considered them a labor of love, Dudley would not allow anyone else to do much of anything. Besides, in character with his perfectionist personality, he did not think anyone would do them as well as he could, especially for Tessy. Today his features showed the strain of a sleepless night and the sure signs of a heart too tender for its own good.
Beth was dressed in the same black bombazine she’d worn for Chester Hayle’s funeral, the dress she’d been wearing when she’d first laid eyes on Alex. That day had marked the end of a life and the beginning of Beth’s future. Zach and Alex were dressed in black, too, as was Dudley. Beth considered the color quite oppressive and had been tempted to advise them all to wear gay colors, since she was convinced that Tess would have preferred a bright cortege following her coffin rather than such a sober one. But then she realized that they must convey the proper respect for Tess and not give the vicar any reason to suppose that she deserved anything less than a proper service.
They walked around and along the wall that enclosed the kitchen garden, past the espaliered apple trees, through the clipped box hedges that followed the cobbled walkway, past the tangled flower beds full of fragrant pinks—sops in wine, painted ladies, and nutmeg cloves. When they reached the trellised lych-gate that admitted them into the family cemetery and chapel grounds, Zach stopped and disengaged his arms from Beth’s and Alex’s. The trellis supported heavy vines of honeysuckle.
Zach judiciously picked three exqu
isite sprigs and arranged them in a posy, drawing a length of ivory ribbon from his jacket pocket to tie it together. He carefully positioned the knot to the right. Beth knew the saying that was attached to honeysuckle posies. Zach had explained it to her once. If the knot was to the right, it meant that the recipient of the posy had the sweet nature of the honeysuckle flower.
Now Zach continued on alone, with Beth and Alex falling in behind him, clinging to each other. The pain of lost love was poignantly displayed this bright, hot morning in August, and it made them all the more grateful for their own love for each other.
Now they were arranged around the open grave, which was situated in the lee of the tall horse chestnut. The smell of rich Cornwall dirt filled Beth’s nostrils and reminded her of man’s close kinship with the earth, both in life and in death. The servants who’d carried Tess’s casket were preparing to lower it into the ground by securing it with two thick, sturdy straps that would slide through their firm grip as the casket descended.
Then, just as they were about to lower the coffin, Zach stepped forward and laid the honeysuckle posy on the wood surface, gently arranging the posy precisely so that the knot was on the right. He stood there for a moment, his fingers lightly stroking the tender stems, his face a mask-of controlled devastation. Then he moved back to his former position next to Alex.
A breeze from the moor stirred the ribbons of Beth’s plain black bonnet and toyed with the hem of her skirt. The smell of honeysuckle eddied around them. The servants lowered the casket and withdrew. As they walked back toward the house, the vicar opened his prayerbook. Without even looking at the pages, he began to speak.
“‘Deliver our sister, Mary Teresa Kenpenny, and her unnamed child out of the miseries of this sinful world. The days of man are but as grass, for he flourisheth as a flower of the field. For as soon as the wind goeth over it, it is gone and the place thereof shall know it no more. And the merciful goodness of the Lord endureth forever and ever upon them that fear Him, even upon such as keep His covenant and think upon His commandments, and do them.’”
As Vicar Bradford’s sonorous voice resonated through the air, the birds chirped cheerfully, like a choir singing joyous hymns. At that moment, more than ever before in her life, Beth thought of heaven and prayed fervidly that Tessy had been received there by a benevolent God.
“‘The Lord hath prepared His seat in heaven, and His kingdom ruleth over all. For inasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God in His great mercy to take upon Himself the soul of our sister, Mary Teresa Kenpenny, and her unnamed child, we therefore commit their bodies to the ground.’”
Henry, the only servant who had been allowed to remain, threw the first clotted shovelful of dirt on Tess’s coffin.
“‘Earth to earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to the eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, who will change our vile body to be like unto His glorious body, according to the mighty workings whereby He is able to do all things unto Himself.’”
When the service was over, the vicar left promptly and was followed shortly thereafter by everyone but Zach and Henry, the servant waiting for word that he might finish the task he’d started with that first shovelful of dirt.
“Come on, Henry,” Alex called from the lych-gate. “Leave Master Wickham alone for a time. You may return later to finish.”
Henry obeyed, and they all started back to the house. But they had barely progressed a few feet past the gate when they discovered Mrs. Tavistock and Gabby coming along the walk. Mrs. Tavistock looked apologetic and more than a little harassed. Gabby had hold of her hand and looked almost to be dragging her mother.
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Tavistock immediately began to explain. “I know Zachary didn’t wish for Gabby and me to be at the funeral, but as soon as she saw the vicar return to the house, Gabby insisted that we had every right to join you now that the services were concluded. I’m not sure why she wanted to come. I don’t think she even understands what’s going on, but she’s plagued me till I’m near distracted—”
“I want to see Zach,” Gabby stated firmly. “He’s very sad, and I want to help him.”
“I don’t know, Gabby,” Beth demurred. “Sometimes people want to be alone, especially when they’re sad.”
“But I can make him feel better,” Gabby insisted with a pleading look designed to soften the hardest heart this side of the Tamar. “Now that you’re marrying Lord Roth, it will be up to me to be Zach’s best friend. Beth, please.”
After but a moment’s reflection, she nodded her consent, and Gabby ran past them and through the lych-gate to Zach’s side. Beth supposed that if he truly did not desire Gabby’s company, he would think of some kind way to send her back to the house. She watched as Gabby stood there, looking up into Zach’s face. He seemed absorbed in grief and hardly cognizant of his surroundings. Gabby reached up and slipped her hand into his. He looked down, and Beth was relieved and grateful to watch his grief-stricken features soften. He touched Gabby’s cheek, then pulled her close with an arm about her shoulders.
“She has a way with him,” said Alex.
“And he with her,” agreed Beth. “Mayhap in time she’ll help his heart to heal.”
Chapter Eighteen
The spring of 1822 would always be remembered in the village of Positano, Italy, as especially warm and balmy, having come in like the proverbial lamb. Dudley watched from the veranda as Beth and Alex strolled arm in arm along the beach one fine morning in April, enjoying the sun’s glint off the sapphire-blue waters of the Gulf of Salerno. Shadow ran along the shoreline, jumping at low-sweeping gulls and chasing the foamy waves that lapped at the sand.
Beth was dressed in a rose-colored muslin gown, her hair loose and flowing down her back, and she carried a frilled parasol to protect her freckle-prone nose from the strong Italian sun. Alex wore burgundy trousers and a blousy white shirt that was open at the throat, the full sleeves billowing softly in the breeze.
They were the image of wedded bliss, their two dark heads bent confidingly close in low-voiced conversation, the contented curve of his lordship’s lips showing the pleasure he took in supporting the light pressure of his wife’s leaning form. They were elegant and easy in their carriage and appeared as happy as ants in a sugar dish.
Now, although he hated to interrupt their morning promenade, Dudley was determined to catch their attention. “My lord? My lady?” he shouted, flailing his arms about till Beth turned and discovered his urgent gestures and spoke to Alex. Now they were both looking up at him, and Alex did not appear pleased. But despite Alex’s annoyed expression, they bent their steps toward the villa.
“Dudley, if you have summoned us from such a delightful occupation for reasons similar to those you cited yesterday when, as you recall, you also interrupted our morning walk, I will be most displeased.” Alex assisted Beth to a comfortable chair by a table laid out with fine china and small dishes filled with pastries and confections. A crystal vase in the center of the table held a bouquet of bright red poppies. Shadow joined them and stretched out in the sun at the top of the stone steps.
“My lord,” Dudley began officiously, “by interrupting you two days in a row, 1 realize I’ve probably relegated myself quite permanently to your black book. Today, however, I hope you will forgive me, as I have something of great import to communicate to you.”
Beth chuckled softly and reached for a scone and the jam crock. “Dudley, don’t tease us. I assume this important communication has to do with Torie’s nurse.”
“Has Miss Brynne once again been bathing the baby in what you perceive as frigid water?” Alex drawled.
Dudley frowned. “I should hope not, my lord. But perhaps I had ought to stick my nose into the nursery in a few minutes just to make sure of it, you know. Thank you for reminding me.”
Alex sat down in a chair he had pulled up next to his wife, then ran his palm along Beth’s thigh till he cupped her knee. Dudley pretended no
t to notice. Indeed, by now he ought to have grown used to their open displays of affection. Truth to tell, he rather enjoyed seeing two people so completely in love. But now was not the time to ruminate on such romantical matters.
“A thank-you is unnecessary, Dudley, since I’m sure you would have remembered to check on the temperature of Torie’s bathwater without my poor assistance,” his lordship answered dryly, his annoyance with Dudley dissipating under the influence of his wife’s radiant smile. “But, pray, what has Miss Brynne done now?”
“I do wish to speak to you about something that concerns Miss Brynne,” Dudley admitted, “but at the moment I feel this other news I have is more important.”
Alex raised a brow. “B’gad, what can possibly be more important to you than the well-being of that golden elf loaned to us by the fairy world to be raised among mortals?”
“I own myself equally curious,” said Beth, licking a tiny dollop of jam from her pinky while Alex watched with avid interest.
“There’s a letter from England, my lady,” Dudley announced, his own excitement bubbling up in anticipation of theirs.
Beth’s attention was captured completely, despite the eddies of desire swirling through her, which had been so easily created by her husband’s admiring look and his warm fingers cupping her knee. She could feel Alex’s response to Dudley’s words in the increased pressure of those warm fingers.
“From Brookmoor?” questioned Alex.
Dudley shook his head.
“From Pencarrow, then?”
“Indeed, my lord,” Dudley said with a sniff, “you don’t think I’d make such a to-do over a missive from your solicitor, your agent, or even your dear aunt Saphrona, do you?”
Beth clapped her hands in delight. “It’s from Zach! See, Alex, I told you it was just a matter of time. I knew he’d write eventually; he simply needed to recover a little from his grief.”
