by Linda Sole
‘Oh good,’ Jane said a little later that day when she returned to discover that Jane had eaten all her broth and the bread and butter she’d sliced thinly to tempt her. ‘Are you feeling better now?’
‘Yes, much.’ Constance smiled at her. ‘As soon as I smelled your broth I was hungry and I ate it all. I like good soup – did you make it yourself?’
‘Yes. My husband is partial to soup and we have it most days as part of our meal.’
‘I made soup most days in France.’
‘I have always wanted to know how the French make that delicious fish soup of theirs,’ Jane said. ‘My husband was in France fighting with Wellington for a while and he says no one makes fish soup like the French housewives.’
‘I have a recipe, which I will give you,’ Constance said. ‘The secret is to use everything – even the shells of the prawns and langoustines, also the heads of the fish.’
‘The heads?’ Constance looked horrified. ‘I would never have thought of using heads or shells in soup.’
‘You remove and strain of course, but it adds to the flavour – though there are other ingredients. You may find some of the herbs difficult to find here. The best way is to grow them yourself from seed.’
‘I have a herb garden,’ Jane said looking eager. ‘I think we have much in common, my lady.’
‘Yes, I think so. Which is another reason why you should call me Constance. I do not like to use the title – I was married only for a short time. My husband died of his wounds in France.’
‘My husband was wounded fighting Napoleon, but he was lucky and he came home.’
‘Then you were fortunate,’ Constance said. Obviously, Jane thought her husband had died in a similar way. She thought it unnecessary to tell her the truth. ‘Have you seen the marquis? I should like to speak with him when it is convenient.’
‘He went out earlier. I shall ask him to come when he returns – are you comfortable with the night-gown I brought you, ma’am?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Constance smiled. ‘It is good of you to lend me your things. Those I had with me were stolen – but I have some things in store at Dover.’
‘I think the marquis is making arrangements for some clothes, ma’am. He took charge of the gold watch and chain you had tucked into your bodice. It is quite safe.’
‘Thank you. I am glad I chose to carry it that way. Had it been in my bag it would have been stolen with the other things.’
Constance realised that she could ask Moraven to sell the watch for her. He would not be cheated, nor would he be accused of theft, as she might.
She lay back against the pillows as Jane left her. She was no longer as tired as she had been and would have liked something to read, but she doubted that either Jane or the landlady had a volume of poetry or even a gothic novel that she might use to pass the hours.
She closed her eyes with a sigh. Lying in bed wasn’t her favourite way of spending the day. She had always been up and busy long before this hour, but she didn’t feel quite strong enough yet. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day at the latest.
*
‘If you will accept my advice you will keep to your bed for a week,’ the physician told Constance when she asked if she might get up. ‘You were very ill, young woman, and you need to rest.’
‘I thank you for your care of me,’ she said and smiled. ‘I believe I might have died had you and your daughter not cared for me so well.’
‘Jane did most of it, my dear – and your friend was most concerned to see you well again. You are in safe hands and need not concern yourself about taking the time you need to recover.’
Constance thanked him again, sighing and lying back against her pillows when he left her to sleep. In truth she was tired and there was no point in hurrying from her comfortable bed when she did not know what she would do once she was on her feet again. Once, she would have been too proud to accept help from Moraven, but now she could do nothing but thank God that he had come looking for her. At this moment in time she had no energy for anything and must be content to let him order her life.
He walked in as she had settled it with herself that she would not fret, looking down at her with a frown.
‘The doctor tells me you wish to get up but he advised against it.’
‘I did not want to be a trouble to anyone,’ Constance said with a sigh, ‘but in truth I think I must do as I am told for I have no energy.’
‘You will certainly do as you are bid,’ Moraven replied. ‘I have no intention of allowing you to go anywhere until both Jane West and her father tell me that you are fit enough to be up and about. Surely you have not taken such a dislike of me that you wish to put some distance between us?’
‘Of course I do not. It is nothing of the sort. How could you think me so ungrateful after all you have done for me? You must know that I…’
‘I know very little, Constance,’ he said and sat on the edge of the bed to hold her hand. ‘Except that I behaved badly in Paris. I was jealous and you know my temper. I thought you had some fondness for South…’
Her hand wriggled in his but he held it firmly. Her trouble gaze met his. ‘I saw him as the brother I never had, Moraven. In the end I married him only because I believed you had gone for good and he begged me to let him provide for me. At first I refused, but then I saw my precarious situation distressed him and you told me to take his offer. Why did you do that?’
‘Because I am a damned fool,’ Moraven said and the look in his eyes made her hand tremble. Once again she tried to withdraw it but he refused to let go. ‘I left the bank draft and a letter, explaining that I would always be available to you if you needed me. I have been told that your servant destroyed both.’
‘I thought you must have taken the draft back until Pierre told me that Heloise had destroyed your papers. She had no idea what she’d done because she could not read. She thought that I would be safe when I married Jonathan, but he had little money with him and his bank would not release it unless he collected it himself. He was too ill and even when I had my marriage papers they still refused me.’
‘You were treated ill by all manner of people,’ Moraven said frowning. ‘I was as much to blame as most for I should have told you that I would return to you. I should have made certain you had money and were safe.’
‘How could you know what would happen,’ Constance said smiling up at him. ‘I lay no blame at your door, Moraven. The Countess of Summerton saw a rival in me and so turned me out even though I had all my papers. She would not believe me – and now I have lost them all, for they were in my bag, which was stolen.’
‘You will not need them,’ Moraven said. ‘Even without the will you would be entitled to your jointure as Lord South’s wife. Summerton will not refuse me if he wishes to hang on to his good name. He knows that I should drag him through the courts and make him pay all the costs. Litigation can take years and be costly. Rather than risk so much he will give you Jonathan’s personal fortune, though the estate is probably entailed.’
‘I have no wish to claim the estate. All I need is enough to be independent and set up in my own house.’
‘Are you still so proud, Constance? Will you not allow me to provide for you?’
She hesitated, then, ‘It depends why you wish to, Moraven. I thought perhaps I had disappointed you and you would not wish to continue our arrangement.’
‘You did not disappoint me, Constance, but you are right to believe that I do not wish to continue the arrangement we had…’
His words struck a blow to her heart. She turned her face away because the hurt was almost too terrible to sustain, but his hand reached out to her, bringing her back so that she was forced to look at him.
‘I quite understand, Moraven. You owe me nothing.’
He laughed softly. ‘You are quite mistaken, my dearest one. I owe you more than you will ever understand. The reason I do not wish to continue our arrangement is because I want more. In fact I insist on more. Unless
your feelings towards me have changed?’ She shook her head but could not answer. ‘My foolish love. I want you to be my wife if you can bear it. I think it is what I have wanted almost from the start. I did not imagine I should ever ask a woman to wed me, but you have changed everything. I care for you deeply, Constance. Will you marry me, my dearest?’
Again she hesitated, then, ‘You are certain it is what you truly wish for? You do not feel obliged because I was a virgin that night?’
‘Not in the least, though had I known I might have waited until our wedding night.’
‘I am glad you did not,’ she whispered. ‘The memory has been the only thing that sustained me since you left. I did not quite give up hope that you cared a little because it was so very sweet between us.’
‘Yes, my love it was, and I should have known then that I could never let you go – but I did not think myself worthy of you. There are things in my past that would shame me if you discovered them.’
‘Hush,’ she said and gazed into his eyes. ‘The past is gone and shall not trouble us. Promise me one thing, Moraven – you will not place yourself in danger again?’
‘It is my hope that all that is finished,’ he said and bent to kiss her on the lips. It was a very satisfactory sweet yet poignant kiss with an underlying hunger that pleased them both. When he sat back, smiling down at her she reached out for his hand and he held it. ‘So, we shall be wed as soon as I can arrange the banns, but first I must allow you to recover. I have brought some clothes that will fit you well enough – and if you wish to come down I shall carry you. It might do you good to sit in the fresh air for a while now that the sun is shining.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said and sat up eagerly. ‘I should like that of all things – if you will not find it too much bother…’
‘Never say that again or I may put you across my knee and spank you, Constance. I have not forgot the lady in black – and I managed to buy your gown back again, my love. I have a certain fondness for that gown and it will do as well as any other until we can have you fitted for your trousseau.’
‘You will spoil me,’ she said sighing.
‘Oh yes,’ he agreed. ‘I intend to, my dearest one. In every way imaginable…’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Are you ready, my love?’ Moraven entered the room just as Constance was placing the jaunty hat he had bought for her on her head. ‘My carriage has arrived. If we leave now we might reach my estate before nightfall. I should prefer that to staying overnight at an inn.’
‘Quite ready,’ Constance replied and smiled at him. The things he had purchased for her were all of the best quality, though perhaps not as fashionable as she had been promised they would buy in London and Paris. For her wedding trip, he had suggested a brief visit to her friends and then a leisurely journey through France and by ship to Italy. ‘I shall do nothing to delay you.’
‘You are perfectly certain you are well enough to leave here?’
‘Perfectly,’ she told him and laughed. ‘You do not need to look at me that way, Moraven. I was ill but I am very strong. I am not going to die and leave you I promise you.’
For a moment the colour left his face. ‘There was once someone I cared for. She was young and I thought her strong but she died of a fever before we could be married. It took me a long time to recover from the trauma. She was too young and lovely to die.’
‘Moraven, I am so sorry,’ Constance replied with ready sympathy but turned aside so that he should not see the profound effect his words had on her. He had once loved someone very much but she’d died before they could marry. No wonder he’d looked haunted when they met. She would have liked to know more but hesitated to probe too deeply. Had he loved his fiancée very much? She was troubled by the doubts that still haunted her from time to time. Did he truly love her or was he merely marrying her out of a sense of duty?
‘It was a long time ago. I merely wished to tell you that I should be devastated if something of the sort were to happen to you so you must tell me if you tire and need to rest.’
‘I am sure I shall not,’ Constance said. She forced a smile to her lips but inside there was a small pinprick of hurt. Of course a man like him would have known other women and other loves. She would be foolish to allow it to bother her. ‘What happened to me was unfortunate. I shall not be so foolish as to walk miles in the rain again.’
‘You would not be allowed to,’ he replied. ‘Come, dearest, we shall say our goodbyes. I believe Mrs West is waiting below to say goodbye to you.’
‘Yes, that would be like Jane. Had she not been married and happy with her life I should have asked her to come with us. I shall need a maid and I liked her.’
‘I know your lack,’ Moraven said. ‘I have sent for a young woman I think will suit. She will be on her way to my home by now I dare say but for the moment you will have to manage with me. Should we need to break our journey at the inn you must ask for the innkeeper’s wife to help you – or put up with my efforts.’
‘I dare say you have acted as a lady’s maid before?’
‘I have some experience with hooks and eyes,’ he admitted and grinned at her expression. ‘I am no saint, Constance. I shall not lie to you. There were several for none of them meant much except as a warm body to cling to. However, you have my word that there will be no other woman but you in my bed from now on.’
The look in his eyes was so heated that it brought a flush to her cheeks but she merely smiled and arched her brows. He was deliberately provoking her.
‘I imagine you know your fate if it were otherwise,’ she replied.
‘Would you tear my eyes out, Constance?’
‘I should certainly make your life uncomfortable.’
He laughed delightedly and she knew her answer had pleased him. Moraven had made it clear that he did not wish for a simpering miss. It might be better not to show her love too plainly. He had told her that he cared for her deeply, but caring was not loving – not in the way she wanted to be loved.
For a moment she wondered if she would have done better to ask for money and returned to France. Her pride was not the only thing that would suffer if he tired of her too soon, but she would be foolish to let her pride come between them. She would take what she could from her marriage, make him happy if she could and hope that she gave him the children he must need as his heirs.
‘What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?’
‘Nothing in particular,’ she replied but flushed. He knew her so well. Yet she could not confess that she still had doubts, because she was certain that he did not wish for a clinging wife. All she could do was be grateful that God had brought her safely through and given her this chance.
‘We’ll talk later in the carriage…’
Jane West was in the entrance hall of the inn. She was talking to her father and it was obvious that they were speaking of a patient for they were deep in conversation, but they stopped and turned as she approached.
‘I shall never be able to thank you enough,’ she said. ‘I know that Moraven has given you a gift of money but I shall send you something personal as soon as I am able to visit the shops.’
‘I have been well paid for what I did,’ Jane assured her. ‘It was a pleasure to be of service to you, my lady. I should like to wish you the best of good fortune for the future.’
‘Thank you.’ Constance replied and then turned to thank the doctor. They all shook hands before Constance and Moraven walked outside. The sun was shining and she could see the carriage waiting for them. She walked towards it but Moraven hesitated, to speak to the groom Jim. Constance glanced back for she knew the man had been instrumental in finding her that terrible night. She smiled and nodded at him and then, suddenly, her eye was drawn to something that sparkled in the sunlight. Shading her eyes, she saw a man standing in the inn yard. He had something in his hand…a pistol! He was pointing it at Moraven. Fear welled up in her and she rushed back, knocking him aside at the moment the pistol
was fired. She was an instant or two too late and the ball struck him in the arm, but had she not caused him to stumble it might well have caught him in the chest, as it had been intended to do. ‘Moraven…my love…’ she screamed and fell to her knees in the dust beside him as he staggered and crumpled to a heap on the ground.
Even as she did so another shot rang out. Constance was not looking but the man who had just fired at Moraven pitched forward to the ground face down. Shouting around her told her that others were aware of what had happened. She vaguely heard the words, ‘He’s dead,’ and gave a cry if alarm, but Moraven’s eyes flickered open and looked at her.
‘Damn it,’ he muttered thickly. ‘I thought it was over. What the hell happened?’
‘Someone shot you.’
‘He followed you from France, Captain,’ a man’s voice said and another man loomed over them. ‘It was one of Renard’s men – the one that got away that night we rescued the girls. I’ve been keeping an eye on him and you, but I was a mite too slow. I beg your pardon, sir. I should have shot the bastard as soon as I saw him.’
‘Not your fault,’ Moraven said and swore as he tried to stand. ‘It is merely a flesh wound, Constance. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Indeed?’ she frowned at him. ‘You will not be foolish and expect to carry on as we planned I hope? Come back inside and let the doctor look at your arm. It must be cleansed and bound – and I do not think we shall be leaving here today.’
Moraven’s protests were ignored as he was helped inside the inn. Doctor Morgan was one of those who assisted him to a chair and lost no time in cutting away his elegant coat so that he could see the damage. After examining it thoroughly, causing a few smothered curses from Moraven, he smiled and nodded.
‘It is as you say a flesh wound, my lord. Had Lady South not seen the assassin and knocked you to one side you might have been killed where you stood. This will take no time at all to cleanse and bind but I think it wiser if you stay here one more night.’
