“There is no secret there. Members of all sides of the family were nearby in London when Henry died. My mother’s family, the Brewsters, were here also. For that matter, so were Anthony and Sir Julien. Even Camilla.”
“Oh, surely you do not think—?”
He frowned. “I don’t know yet what I really think about all this.”
“Then … what you’re saying is that it could have been any of them?”
“They all had opportunity to silence Henry.”
She walked over to the bench and sat down. “Thank you for telling me this. It helps more than you know. Is this the matter you wished to see me about?”
“No.” He walked over to the bench and stood looking down at her. “I will come straight to the point. It is not lost on me that you are alone now. I should like to go away to South Africa knowing you are well taken care of.”
Her brows lifted, and she could not hold back the rueful words. “Do you wish to arrange a marriage for me with the village shoemaker, Rogan? Perhaps you regret the haste with which Derwent was taken from me after all?”
A glint of derisive challenge burned his dark gaze. “You misunderstand me. I think you already know what I meant.”
She met his gaze, barely daring to breathe. Did he mean …? “I do not.”
“I certainly am not advocating marriage—to anyone, least of all the shoemaker. And you misjudge me about Derwent.”
“I am not altogether convinced of that. I believe you were involved. Derwent said so in his letter back in January when I returned to Parkridge. The only thing that is unclear to me is why you would meddle.”
“Meddle.” A small smile played at his lips. “Such a potent little word, implying malice. I would think my interest in the matter should be simple to understand. I did not fancy the notion of your marrying him while I was away. I already told you that at the ball, back in December.”
His bluntness embarrassed yet elated her. “Why should it matter to you?”
His smile was full now, and she saw the imp dancing in his dark eyes. “What a leading question, Miss Varley! Naturally, as I’ve told you before, I am … fond of you.”
“Fond of me?”
He placed hands on his hips. “I have known you most of my life. I find myself concerned for your future. I did not twist Derwent’s arm to get him to marry Alice. He did so of his choice and at the prompting of Mrs. Tisdale and Aunt Elosia. It was my father who offered him a good position in Capetown.” He gave her a slanted look. “Of course, offering him some shares in the gold I expect to discover did not hurt the prospects either.”
She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Well, you proved yourself quite successful.”
“Just between you and me, I am not the least sorry Derwent is gullible and, where you are concerned, foolish.”
The way he looked at her, as though she belonged to him, did odd things to her heart. She folded her hands in her lap, forcing herself to breathe slowly. Do not be foolish, she scolded. His interest in you is as a friend, as one who wants the best for you. That is all.
He crossed his arms, watching her closely, as though trying to read her reaction to his words. “I have the feeling Derwent and I will be friends for years to come. He trusts me. I will be forced to honor that trust.”
She smiled at that. “Sometimes I think you actually are fond of Derwent.”
“If I confessed, that would spoil your convictions that I am arrogant and a scoundrel.”
“Oh? Is that how you want me to think of you?”
“I think I told you before that I would prefer your good opinion of me.”
The breeze blew against her, and she watched it ruffle his shirt. “Your opinion that casts my mother in a new light is definitely in line with your wish.”
He bowed lightly. “Thank you. And now I shall get straight to why I wanted you see you. I am aware that your expenses must weigh heavily on your shoulders, particularly at this time.”
She thought of the ten pounds in the treasure box. She did not like to discuss such a personal matter with him, but he seemed quite relaxed about it, showing no embarrassment at all.
“That is why,” he continued, “since I must go away for some time, I would secure a measure of peace knowing you had sufficient funds to care for yourself. Lest you think the removal of Derwent is to blame for this, I hasten to contradict the idea. I knew for some time about your aunt’s dwindling finances. She confided in Mrs. Croft—and we know, do we not, that Mrs. Croft loves to chatter. So it is no wonder it all got back to me. You have ten pounds. Am I right?”
Quick heat filled her cheeks. Oh, Mrs. Croft! Though pleased by his concern, she wondered why he felt it. She searched his features, seeking some clue to his motivation … but he was veiled.
“Naturally I would be sorry to see your final year at the music academy foiled. I would be quite amenable to seeing the tuition paid—as I’ve paid the first three years.”
She sucked in her breath, then surged to her feet. “You?”
“Why not? It was our little secret, your aunt’s and mine. She wanted you to attend so badly that she accepted the gift as a loan. If it makes you feel better, we can consider the final year a loan as well, with the idea you would pay it back at some time in the future.”
Evy silenced an intake of breath. Could she possibly be hearing right? “Are you saying you wish to give—lend me more money?”
He inclined his head, looking as though he was fighting a smile. “Yes. Enough to pay for your final tuition, and then to set you up in your own music school. Preferably here in Grimston Way. London is full of scamps. Here Mrs. Croft could keep an eye on you, as would the new vicar and his wife.”
She could not take it in. “But—why? Why would you wish to do such a thing?”
“I told you I am fond of you … actually, quite fond.” He walked toward her. “It was always your aunt’s wish that you should support yourself. If you are financially independent, then there will be less reason for the well-meaning but errant ladies of the village to try to marry you off to the farmer’s son”—he allowed the smile now—“or the shoemaker. And you will be under far less pressure to agree. You will have time to … make decisions.”
“That is exceedingly thoughtful and generous of you.”
“I have my own reasons as well. We both enjoy a genuine interest in music. I would like to see you pursue it.”
Evy did not know what to say.
“If, in your proper way of thinking, you believe taking money from me is unsuitable, then we could work through a third party. Vicar Osgood, for instance, would do nicely.”
“You are serious, then.”
“Of course. I hoped I made that clear. Well?” He smiled again. “Is it a bargain?”
“But I … Well, it is very considerate on your part. I must say I am astonished. What can I say? You have already paid my schooling for three years.”
“I enjoyed the little secret.”
She could well imagine he did. “However, it is quite out of bounds to even consider taking money. And I must pay you back what you’ve already paid.” She closed her eyes. How on earth would she do that? It had to be thousands of pounds … Oh! What would people think if they knew?
“Nonsense.”
Her eyes opened at his firm assertion. His expression was as unyielding as his tone. “Everyone in the village knows you are virtuous.”
How did he do it? How was it he could read her thoughts so easily? Did he know her feelings toward him as well? Oh, please … no.
His gaze softened. “A loan is not as improper as you imply. After all, I am the squire’s son. One day I will inherit Rookswood and my father’s title, and I shall be squire. All that has been settled years ago.”
Her eyes widened at this. So Rogan would not inherit the Chantry shares in De Beer Consolidated. “Is that why you have your own interest in locating gold?”
“Partly. I always wanted Rookswood; Parnell always wanted the diamon
ds. So for once you hear of two brothers who have completely agreed on the inheritance that will be left them. Arcilla, of course, will share in the diamonds, but most of the shares go to Parnell. That is one of the reasons my father and Sir Julien thought it so important for Arcilla to marry into position and wealth through Peter.”
“I see …”
“Look, never mind about me. As I said, I am interested in your future, Evy. I want to make sure you will be financially secure. Please, will you allow me to help you?”
She looked away from the kindled warmth in the dark eyes, afraid of what was there, knowing that it could never come to fruition. “I—I will need to think about it. Thank you for your offer.”
He looked amused at her grave hesitancy. “All right, think about it, pray about it. But you will need to make your decision soon. I leave for London tomorrow early, and for the Cape next Thursday morning.” He handed her a calling card. “Here is my town address in London. Contact me before Thursday. In the meantime, I will go ahead and draw up the necessary papers. How do you wish it to be written? Through Vicar Osgood and the rectory, or directly to you?” He smiled faintly. “That is, of course, should you decide to go along with this.”
She plucked at the black scarf in her hands, aware of the wind, aware of him, of his gaze and how near they stood. She looked away toward the pond. “If I decide to accept your kind offer, I should prefer to deal through the vicar.”
He smiled. “Very proper. Then the vicar it is. As a matter of fact, I have already talked to him about this. He is in full agreement.”
She looked at him and saw his smile. Suddenly she smiled too. “You were quite certain I would accept.”
“I was hoping.”
“My own music school.” The mere thought of it filled her with inexpressible joy. “Oh, Rogan, how could I resist? It is something I’ve always dreamed of, but never thought possible. I thought marriage to—” Rogan’s mouth turned slightly, and she hastened on, “I expected my life to be different.”
“I think you will agree that life’s plans are not always tied up in neat little packages. Occasionally we find ourselves at unexpected crossroads with more than one opportunity from which to choose. Time itself is often the best indicator of which decision to make, for it can tell so many things that are now hazy. Do you not think so?”
His soft words, his warm gaze wrapped around her, enfolding her. Once again, her heart beat faster. “Yes … only time will tell.”
The awareness between them all but crackled in the warm air, and she forced her gaze away from his, reaching into her handbag and drawing out the small red velvet box. She hesitated, then handed it to him. “I see that neither you nor Arcilla came by for this, so I wanted to return it now. Again, it was kind of you to think of me at Christmas, but …”
“I think of you a great deal, Evy. There is a special relationship between us.”
She was not so certain about this special relationship and believed he was not either. “But a Chantry heirloom …”
“It is not from the Chantry family jewels. I chose this myself in London while looking over some of the diamond and emerald collections at the Company. The green and yellow diamonds reminded me of your eyes. Please accept it from me, Evy. It is simply a Christmas present.”
She was overcome. “But, Rogan—”
His eyes glittered. “If you will not accept it, I will toss it into the pond.”
She gasped. “You would not!”
“I will. I can be rash sometimes.”
There was a half smile that denied this challenge, and laughter bubbled up from deep within her. She snatched the red velvet box back from his hand.
“Such a display of emotion on your part, Master Rogan, would not be fitting. But … since I never know how far you will go to surprise me, I will humbly accept this gift: and will treasure it always.” All jesting gone now, she let her sincerity show in her eyes. “Thank you. I am afraid I did not have a proper gift to give you at Christmas, however—”
“However?” His gaze dropped pointedly to her lips.
Her breath caught in her throat. “However, I am sure you understand.”
His smile was rueful. “Hmmm. Indeed. Well, with that settled, I am sorry to say I must be on my way. I will walk you back to the gate. Unless you wish to sit a while by the pond and enjoy the sunshine?”
He was leaving … And though he was making a generous financial provision for her security and safety, who knew when she would actually see him again? Or whether she ever would? Anything could happen in two years. Anything. He might find someone he cared for in Capetown. He might forget all about her. She had heard that there were quite a few English girls there with well-to-do families serving Her Majesty’s government.
Or Miss Patricia might join him in Capetown, and they might marry …
No, nothing was certain, least of all this shaky relationship that she and Rogan seemed to share. Yes, he said he was fond of her—a fact this present generosity seemed to support—but fondness was not undying love.
His brow lifted as he watched her, but his tone was gentle when he spoke. “You are frowning.”
She looked away. “Was I?”.
“Still disappointed about losing Derwent?”
Oh, Rogan! She looked at the box in her hand and shook her head. Moisture filled her eyes and before she could stop the flow a splotch dropped on the velvet, darkening it.
“Evy.” Sympathy deepened his voice.
No … That was the last thing she wanted from him …
She looked up at him, and her heart contracted. Their gazes held, and he reached with gentle hands to take her arms. As the June breeze blew her hair and rustled the skirt of her mourning dress, Rogan’s arms encircled her, drew her close. A small sigh escaped her as his lips lowered to hers.
A searing flame scattered the dismal shadows and the blackness of gloom. The moment was wonderful, even if it was only a moment. This was now. This she would always remember. The memory of his lips on hers would warm her in the long, lonely nights ahead. Her arms went around him, and he held her tightly, his kiss deepening, lingering.
After what seemed an eternity of wonder, Rogan withdrew. His hands moved to her shoulders.
“I will come back, Evy, and when I do, I expect to find you here waiting for me. Until then, it is never good-bye.” He studied her face, as though memorizing it. “It is merely au revoir.”
She was unable to speak, though her heart cried out when he released her and turned to walk away toward Rookswood … and Capetown. Her gaze followed Rogan until he was out of view, then she turned, blinking back scalding tears, and looked toward the silvery-blue pond rippling in the warm breeze. A graceful white swan glided peacefully toward the shade of a willow whose long branches swayed over the water. A meadowlark sang in the lilac tree nearby, while out of view in the distance its mate answered sweetly, confidently.
Evy turned and looked back toward Rookswood, where Rogan had disappeared. Out of sight, she thought with a sudden glimmer of hope and confidence, but not forever gone.
“Au revoir, Rogan,” she whispered. “I promise I will be waiting for you when you return.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Lee Chaikin has written eighteen books for the Christian market. For Whom the Stars Shine was a finalist for the prestigious Christy Award, and several of her novels have been awarded the Silver Angel for excellence. Many of Linda’s books have been included on the best-seller list.
Behind the Stories, a book about writers of inspirational novels, offers Linda’s personal biography. She is a graduate of Multnomah Bible Seminary and taught neighborhood Bible classes for a number of years before turning to writing. She and her husband presently make their home in California.
Dear Reader,
I hope you will look for the second book of the East of the Sun trilogy, when the story of Evy Varley and Rogan Chantry continues to unwind toward their destiny in Capetown, South Africa.
; I would be pleased to hear from you. You can write to me through my publisher:
Linda Lee Chaikin
c/o WaterBrook Press
12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200
Colorado Springs, CO 80921
Sincerely,
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