Arden knew Danny could not deny the bloom of Helena’s cheeks, nor the bright alertness of her dark brown eyes. He moved aside and opened the door for his brother’s widow. Bonnie followed Arden out in the name of safety, despite the narrow odds of anyone on that stretch of road accosting even a lone woman with a baby.
Arden’s black cloak proved ample enough to fold another layer of warmth over Helena. Holding her to her chest, Arden started walking. Bonnie drew up beside her, but did not speak. Only Helena’s cheerful coos and the sound of the women’s boots broke the comfortable silence.
When Arden noticed the horse and rider coming from the direction of Oxford, she could still see the Malley farmhouse if she turned around. Something in the way the man sat his horse made Arden try to see him better. No. Utter foolishness. No reason for it to be him, for Lord Robert to be in Oxfordshire. Besides, she did not want to see him, anyway. She would just continue walking until she passed the stranger he’d surely turn out to be.
With every step Arden took, and with every step the bay horse took, her impression that the rider looked like Robert Courtenay grew.
“Isn’t that—?” Bonnie began to ask.
“No. It couldn’t be.” A few more steps, though, and Arden could no longer deny the truth. Robert Courtenay on horseback, headed right towards her.
“Doesn’t mean he’s here for me,” Arden told Bonnie. “Many men have business in Oxford.”
“He's got a bad sense of direction, then,” said Bonnie quietly. “We’re the ones headed towards Oxford.”
Arden partly wanted to turn and run back to the farmhouse. She knew it would be futile. If he wants to see me, she thought, he can use the bay to run us down. Besides, she partly did want to see Courtenay. Unfortunately, she only partly wanted it for the purpose of telling him in vivid detail exactly what a rat-hearted scoundrel he was.
At a distance of a few yards, his eyes drew hers. She could not then break their mutual gaze, though she instinctively clutched Helena more tightly to her breast. Surprised in the middle of one of her coos, the baby emitted a soft gasp. Arden motioned for Bonnie to stay back, and she obeyed. Courtenay dismounted quickly, but maintained a dignified pace as he continued towards her, leading his horse.
“Arden!” he called. “Or should I hail you as Mistress Malley? Though I understand I should offer you condolences for your loss.”
“Don’t offer me anything you don’t really wish me to have,” replied Arden. Her voice sounded steadier in her own ears than she had dared hope.
“Ah, Arden, let’s not be so cold,” Courtenay said. He reached for her hand. Because of the bundle she carried hidden beneath her cloak, she backed away in refusal. “Aren’t you the slightest bit glad to see me?” Courtenay asked. One coal-black brow rose up, proclaiming his self-confidence. Despite this, Arden could not lie.
“I am glad you have survived your journey, Lord Robert,” she admitted. “I have had enough of death, and want no more.”
Palpable fear rushed across Courtenay’s darkly handsome face. “The child? The child is well?”
“I don’t know why you should care,” said Arden. She shifted her hold upon her daughter unconsciously, giving herself away.
Immediately, joy replaced fear in Courtenay’s expression. A woman would forget the sun’s light when he smiled, thought Arden. “You have her right here, don’t you? Under your cloak? Let me see her!” He moved towards her, reaching for the dark folds that protected his daughter from the winter air.
Arden unveiled the child so he could look. “Helena Charlotte Maria Malley,” she pronounced, emphasizing the last name.
“I don’t know why you bother, Arden,” he chuckled. “Even if the King hadn’t told me, I’d know her for my own. Let me hold her.”
“No. You didn’t want her. You left instructions with Shire so you’d never be so burdened.” No matter what Kitty had said, Arden had to be sure. Kitty. Another pain in the way of showing him kindness.
“Arden, I swear to you, I’d never treat you that way. Shire acted on his own whim. He’s a minor cousin of my betrothed, and he thought—Well, never mind what he thought. He is out of my employ.” Courtenay’s eyes were persuasive. “Let me hold our daughter, Arden.”
She acquiesced, and nearly melted, watching his expression change as he cradled Helena and looked into her face. He loves her! Courtenay sheltered the baby with his own cloak. “You’re beautiful, Helena,” he told her. Arden heard a delighted cry from her child. He can even charm extremely young women, she thought ruefully. She took Helena back from him.
“She’s beautiful,” Courtenay repeated. “And so are you. I’ve missed you, Arden.” He moved closer to her, brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Arden wanted to lean into him, to feel his arms around her. She believed him―about Shire’s acting without his sanction, at least.
“Kitty wrote and told me just how much you missed me,” Arden forced herself to say, stepping back from him once more.
“How can you reproach me with that—that—meaningless exercise? You married Malley! I’d just learned it from the King when I met Kitty in the road.”
“You know why I married Brian,” replied Arden. “What was I supposed to do? Follow Shire’s instructions?”
“No, of course not. I understand why you felt you had to marry Malley. I forgive you,” said Courtenay. “Forgive me, in return, for dallying with Kitty. She means nothing to me.”
“And what do I mean to you? Am I just supposed to fall back into your arms, as if you’d never gone to Tangier?”
“Yes,” he said simply, dark eyes smoldering. He cupped her face in the long fingers of his right hand, tilting her lips up so he could kiss her easily. Arden wanted to kiss him, and his touch upon her cheek brought memories of the way his fingers had felt upon the rest of her body. But she forced herself to back away from him yet again.
“N-n-no!” she protested. “I can’t.”
“You can. You want my kiss as much as I wish to give it. Why must you play games?”
“Games?” hissed Arden. “That woman waiting for me is Brian’s cousin. She knows about you, about Helena. Still, I would not have her see me kiss you in the road like a common trollop! And Brian’s brother and sister live in that farmhouse, back the way I came. Bad enough they may have seen me hand over this child they believe their niece to a strange gentleman. Bad enough they may have seen him touching my face. But do you think I would seal their suspicions with a kiss? I’ve already had to lie about her brown eyes in order to keep them believing their brother did not die childless!”
“You care so much then, about these people’s feelings? About your dear, departed husband’s memory?”
“Brian was my friend. He was there when you were not,” said Arden, fighting sobs. “His family took me into their home, welcomed me as one of their own.”
The mocking mask Courtenay had worn to speak of Brian softened visibly. “Very well, then,” he said, by his turn increasing the physical distance between them. “I will honor your sentiments—for a time. But if you don’t return to London with our daughter soon, I’ll be back here to visit. I’ll insist upon your introducing me to the entire Malley household.”
The smile he flashed her was kindly rather than malicious. Though the thought horrified her, Arden couldn’t fail to see the humor in it. A small, shocked laugh escaped her.
“I know you, Arden,” Courtenay added. “You will be back. If not for me, then for the stage. And I’ll be near that stage when you do. Au revoir.” He was still close enough to take the hand not wrapped around Helena, turn it palm upwards, and kiss it. Even in such a formal gesture, his lips sent a surge of heat through her.
“Au revoir,” Arden managed, as Courtenay mounted the bay and turned it back towards Oxford. When she walked back to Bonnie, the pity she saw in her companion’s eyes seemed somehow worse than the disgust she had expected.
When Arden and Bonnie returned to the farmhouse, Danny waited until the
young mother had adjusted her daughter once more for the warmth of the downstairs family area and placed her on a quilt upon the floor. Then he asked: “Who was the gentleman I saw you meet on your walk?”
Arden couldn’t prevent her face from flushing, but she found the presence of mind to study her brother-in-law’s own countenance. His eyes held not suspicion, but the ordinary curiosity of a country farmer met by the prospect of an interesting stranger.
“A—an acquaintance from London,” she told him.
“Someone with the Duke’s Company?”
“Yes, exactly.” Only a small lie. Lord Robert had no official tie to the players, but he did enjoy the theater.
“What was he doing out here?” Esther asked. Even from the distance of the farmhouse, a gentleman stranger cut a romantic and mysterious figure in her young and sheltered eyes.
“He had business in Oxford,” Arden replied, “but they’d heard of our loss, and the Company asked him to see how I was holding up. Lucky we were out walking―saved him several paces out of his way.”
“Quite a fancy gentleman, that,” Danny observed, mildly. “Kissing your hand and all.”
“Well, what’s a theater company without lots of men with a flair for the dramatic gesture?” countered Arden, trying to sound light.
“At least he likes children,” Esther commented.
“Yes, apparently he does,” Arden agreed. “But who wouldn’t adore Helena?”
*****
Helena had finally fallen asleep in her makeshift nest. Arden quickly got into her own bed to catch a few hours’ sleep before the baby awoke again, wanting to be fed. As she pulled the blankets up to cover herself, she realized she might as well return to London sooner than she had planned. After all, she had already returned to acting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
New Year’s found Arden in the process of making a large resolution. “I need to talk to you, ask you some serious questions,” she told Bonnie. They’d put Helena down for at least the first part of the night, and both Danny and Esther had already retired. The two young women sat alone in what the Malleys now called “Arden and Helena’s room” without a catch in either of their voices.
“Helena and I will be going back to the Duke’s company soon,” Arden continued. “Will you be coming with us?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” said Bonnie.
“Not a farm girl, Bonnie?” Arden chuckled.
“No,” replied Bonnie, dramatically bringing the back of her hand to her forehead. “My nerves are delicate, and I cannot bear the excitement connected with raising sheep! I must get back to the workaday world of London to regain my equilibrium!”
Arden stifled her laughter so she wouldn’t wake Danny and Esther. Then, almost immediately, she sobered. “I have to ask your advice about something, Bonnie. Should I tell Danny the truth about everything before we go?” Arden didn’t mention Esther because of the girl’s youth. She couldn’t imagine explaining Helena’s parentage to such an innocent. If she told Danny, she’d let him decide whether to pass the information along to his sister.
“You’re asking your maid? For serious moral advice?”
“I already know what Father Fernaut would say,” returned Arden. “Besides, I’m asking Brian’s cousin. And my friend.”
“Well, I agree with Father Fernaut,” began Bonnie. “Catholic, Anglican, or Dissenter, we are all taught to avoid deception.”
“You’re right. But you’ve not said a word about it until now.”
“You hadn’t asked me until now.”
*****
Before Arden found the nerve to carry out her resolution, Margaret came to call. “Wilt thou walk with me?” she asked. The young woman’s pale face glowed with suppressed excitement and urgency.
“Certainly, Margaret,” Arden replied, putting on her cloak, gloves, and stout boots. The weather had turned, and a crusty snow had made patchwork of the ground for a few days. Arden needed no persuading to leave Helena briefly to the care of Brian’s relatives.
When Arden closed the door on the Malleys and the two young women headed for the road, Margaret began speaking. “Please, Arden, forgive me for all the questions I shall ask thee. First, when dost thou plan to return to London?”
Arden chuckled. “Strange you should ask that, for it will be very soon indeed.”
“Wilt thou let me accompany thee?”
Arden stopped, almost slipping on a small puddle of ice in the road. “What? Margaret, do you mean to run away?”
“Oh, no, Arden, of course not. My parents shall permit this. I shall have a room with my Aunt Jane and Uncle George―they live in London.”
“Good. I am glad nothing is wrong at your home.” Arden shivered, independent of the weather. Treadwell couldn’t harm her now, but the thought of the innocent Quaker having to fend off the kind of advances she herself had escaped—No, of course not. Margaret’s real father still lived.
“Then thou does not mind my company upon the journey, and my calling upon thee often in London?”
“No, of course not, Margaret. But—”
“What is it, Arden?”
“Your mother and father. They do know that I intend to return to the stage? They don’t object to your hanging about with such a scandalous creature as an actress?”
“Well, I will be living with relatives,” Margaret reiterated. “As for the rest, my wise parents know even better than I that Our Lord chose not to ‘hang about’―in thy words― with the pious. He spent His time among those who needed His light the most. Not,” the Quaker added hastily, “that I mean to imply anything about thy needs.”
Arden laughed outright. “I take no offense.” Then she sighed. “I want you to know the whole truth about me, though, before we make the journey together.” Telling Margaret the truth about Helena’s parentage, Arden realized, would be good practice for breaking the news to Danny. On the one hand, Margaret shared much of her moral code with strict Puritans. On the other, she was not emotionally close to the situation.
“The truth? I doubt it can be anything that will change my good opinion,” said Margaret.
The pair had walked well away from the house by now. Nothing for it but to start right in, thought Arden. She took a deep breath. “Helena is not my late husband’s child,” she began, then proceeded past Margaret’s grave little gasp to tell the entire story. The Quaker’s face began to relax when Arden related that Brian had known the situation in full before he proposed. The young midwife’s features softened even further after Arden confided the role her fear of Treadwell had played in her liason with Lord Robert. Soon after that, the two of them turned back towards the farmhouse.
“Now, I want you to tell your mother everything I’ve told you, to make sure she has no objection to our continued friendship,” said Arden. “This evening I’ve made up my mind to confess to Danny―and I thank you for the practice,” she finished.
“Thou art welcome,” Margaret answered solemnly. “And do not worry about my parents. They trust me and the faith in which they have raised me. Arden?”
“What?” She couldn’t help her amazement at the differences between Margaret’s response to her confession and what Treadwell’s would have been. And yet, Quakers had been part of the dissenting coalition supporting Oliver Cromwell, though their non-violent principles had prevented them from countenancing regicide.
“Dost thou intend to see this man again when we return to London?”
“I do not know,” Arden admitted. She lacked the courage to tell Margaret she wanted to, but felt guilty. She definitely didn’t want to tell Margaret her indecision stemmed from lack of surety that Lord Robert truly cared whether she returned to London.
As planned, Arden gave her second performance that evening for Danny, after Esther and Bonnie had retired. Learning from her experience with Margaret, Arden assured Danny of Brian’s full knowledge of everything she was about to say before she began. “I’ve never had such a great friend,�
� she finished. “I miss him terribly.”
“He has no child!” sighed Danny, when she stopped speaking. “I forgive you, Arden,” he assured her. “Anyone could see he loved you, so I can have no quarrel with your marriage. There’s really nothing to forgive. But it kills me to know there is nothing left of him.”
“I would have been happy to give him his own children,” said Arden.
“He looked forward to Helena,” nodded Danny. “He would have treated her as his own.”
“I know,” Arden agreed. “He will always be in our hearts.” She patted her brother-in-law’s shoulder, then added: “And there is his play. I promised him I’d finish it, and I will. When the Duke’s Company stages it, I’ll send word, and you and Esther can come and see.”
“You don’t have to leave so soon,” said Danny. “No matter the truth of it, we can’t stop loving a babe now we’ve started. And you, Arden, will always be part of our family.”
“Thank you, but I still think it best if I return to London in a month’s time,” Arden replied. “Bonnie has agreed to come with me, and will help with Helena. Margaret’s moving to London, too, for a time, so she’ll be close by.”
“That’s good to know,” said Danny.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When the time came, the Quaker’s companionship on the journey was good to have. Danny drove them to Oxford in the wagon, and Esther rode along, too. The similarities and differences between this trip and the one which had brought her to Brian’s home a mere ten months ago would have been unbearable were it not for the addition of Margaret. Helena’s presence, Arden reflected, was both a help and a poignant reminder. The baby distracted her mother, both with her need to be fed and changed and with the wonder of her sweet, transient expressions. Remembering the ride when Helena had only been the vaguest possible flutter in her belly, however, proved all too easy. Remembering leaning her head upon Brian’s chest as the wagon creaked and swayed. Remembering listening to the steady beat of a faithful heart and feeling safe. Remembering that the comforting beat had now long stilled.
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