Captain of Her Heart: Captain of Her HeartA Father's Sins

by Lily George

  “Why are you crying?” He whispered the words.

  “You would not ask me to marry you if you knew the truth of my situation.” With trembling fingers, she clasped his hand and pulled it away from her waist.

  He refused to loosen his grip or let go of her hand. “Try me.” His voice issued a gentle challenge.

  “Mama took too much laudanum. That’s how she died.” She dared not meet his eyes.

  He sighed. “I suspected as much. Harriet, laudanum is a highly addictive medication. It is not difficult at all to get so accustomed to it that you can mistake how much you’ve ingested. As I recuperated from my wound, I was given laudanum. I know only too well its potency.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “There is more. You know Mama was an actress?”

  He nodded. “You told me so yourself. Why does that matter?”

  “It matters a great deal to the Handleys. Papa’s family. They gave Mama Tansley Cottage and twenty-five pounds per annum, to stay quiet. They will offer you no dowry on my behalf.”

  “I expected no dowry at all, Harriet. Why should that matter? And now that I know the horrible truth about your family, and I don’t care about any of these problems, would you consent to be my wife?”

  She shook her head, wiping her face on a handkerchief he retrieved from his pocket. “You should know that part of the reason for our financial ruin was because Mama was being blackmailed. Someone knew about her past career and threatened to expose her to the ton. Mama paid them an exorbitant amount of money over the years, which, coupled with my parents’ extravagant lifestyle, destroyed my family.” A shudder ran through her body. “I only learned this…on my mother’s deathbed.”

  John squeezed her tightly, helping to suppress the shiver than ran through her. Harriet glanced up, seeking out the reassurance of his gray-green eyes. In their depths, she recognized only reassurance and love. He kissed the top of her hair. His touch gave her the strength to continue.

  “If I marry you, John, I can only offer myself. And that makes me feel very poor indeed.”

  “And having you here with me makes me feel very rich indeed.” He sighed, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck. “You have given me so much, Harriet darling. If only you knew everything you’ve done for me. Will you marry me, Harriet?”

  She traced the scar that zigzagged on his chin, her finger catching on the stubble. “Yes. Yes, I will, John.”

  “My darling…” He bent down and kissed her with the pent-up longing that possessed both of them for too many lonely weeks. But a moment or two later, she placed her hands on his chest, silently asking him to stop so she could catch her breath.

  “We can’t set a date yet,” Harriet reminded him, and held out the dyed skirt of her dress. “It’s not right to be engaged so quickly after Mama’s passing.”

  “We’ll wait six months, but not a day longer. The day you come out of mourning, you will be wearing your wedding gown.” He reached out and grasped her left hand. “But surely there is no harm in wearing this, until then?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sapphire ring, which winked alluringly in the dim parlor light.

  Harriet gave a soft gasp and tried to jerk her hand away. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “It’s too beautiful, too fine…”

  He tightened his hold and slipped the jewel onto her ring finger. “That is precisely why you deserve it. It was my mother’s, and now I want you to have it.”

  “Thank you, John. It’s the most exquisite ring I have ever seen. I shall endeavor to deserve it,” she whispered.

  “Oh, it’s not merely a ring. There is a matching necklace and set of bracelets but I left them at the Park, in case I was accosted by a highwayman on the way over.” He chuckled. “You deserve all of that, and more.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with so many jewels.”

  “Well, you have the rest of your life to find out. But Harriet, I’ve made a dreadful hash of asking your hand in marriage. I haven’t courted you at all.”

  “That doesn’t matter, does it? I feel like we were courting each other while we wrote the book together. The book was my declaration of love for you, and it is one reason why I must find a publisher.”

  “My darling,” he murmured, moving closer. Harriet put up another warning hand.

  He smiled tightly in frustration. “Perhaps the book was a kind of courtship ritual, but we could not admit it to each other then. Nor could we be open about our affection.” He sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “I think ours is fated to be an unorthodox match. I’ve gone about it the wrong way around. Engagement first, then courtship. But since we must wait so long before we wed, I will spend the next six months wooing you, my dear.”

  The front door opened and they sprang apart.

  “Hattie, are you home? Hello?” Sophie’s voice rang out.

  “In the parlor, Sophie. Captain Brookes is here.” Despite her best efforts, Harriet’s voice betrayed a nervous tremble.

  “Yes, I know,” Sophie responded warmly, and crossed the threshold. “May I call him Brother?”

  Harriet nodded, tears in her eyes.

  “How wonderful!” Sophie cried. She folded Harriet into her loving embrace, laughing and weeping at the same time.

  “Let me see the ring! Ooh, lovely!” Sophie grasped her sister’s hand, turning it to make the sapphire sparkle in the light. “Oh, Hattie, it suits you beautifully.” She turned to Brookes. “John, I am happy for you, too. You cannot find a better woman than my sister.”

  He nodded. “‘For her price is far above rubies,’” he quoted, gazing at Harriet with love shining through his eyes.

  “Or, in this case, sapphires,” Sophia chirped merrily, and the little parlor rang with their laughter.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Well, where is my nephew, and is he engaged?” Aunt Katherine’s imperious tones rang out across the vestibule of Brookes Park. Smiling, John rose from his desk in the library and came out to meet her, his arms outstretched.

  “No embraces for you until I find out what has happened, and if you will be taking a bride soon,” she snapped, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Tell me, John, are you betrothed?”

  “Yes, some three days’ now,” he replied, folding her in his embrace. “You see? Had I traveled at your sluggish pace, I would just now be broaching the matter.”

  “Oh, tut, I am an old woman and I have earned my luxuries.” She pulled free of his embrace. “Did you give her your darling mother’s jewels?”

  “Only the ring. She has no wish to claim the rest yet.” He helped her remove her pelisse and handed it to Bunting, who came striding into the vestibule.

  “Ah, Bunting, I have a great wish for some scalding hot tea.” Aunt Katherine smiled. “Bring it into the library directly.”

  “Of course, Madame.” He bowed, and Brookes led Aunt Katherine toward the library.

  “Now, I must have my dear Harriet over to discuss the finer points of the wedding. Has she started making her trousseau? Have you seen to reading the banns?”

  He ruffled his hand through his hair. Aunt Katherine always had an exasperating effect on his nerves, even when he happily anticipated her visits. “I don’t know, Aunt.”

  “What have you been doing these three days, my boy?”

  He grinned sheepishly, feeling rather like a boy caught stealing a piece of cake. “Wooing.”

  “Oh, dear. You are incorrigible, John.” She waved a hand listlessly through the air.

  “No, nothing indecent Auntie, upon my honor. But Harriet and I have enjoyed so little time together that we have been spending as much time as possible in each other’s company. Yesterday I took her for a tour of the estate and the mill. She had never seen the extent of Brookes Park before.
”

  “Well, I need her here with me today. We must plan for the wedding. She probably hasn’t a stitch of trousseau, and I am sure no money to purchase it with.” She sank down onto the settee and rummaged in her reticule, pulling out a wad of bank notes. “This is to be my gift to Harriet for the wedding. This should buy her an ample amount of the necessities and the niceties, too.”

  He quirked his mouth in a grin. “It’s a lovely thought, Aunt, but she’ll never accept it. She’s too proud.”

  “We’ll see about that, my boy. I am wondrously persuasive. It was I who purchased that lovely blue bombazine for her in Bath. You know, the evening she looked so lovely you couldn’t stop staring at her.”

  Brookes did remember, and smiled at the recollection.

  Aunt Katherine jerked him back to the present by continuing her list of orders. “Now, you must see to the reading of the banns. When is the wedding to be?”

  “In February of next year, when her mourning is done.”

  “Well, we have some time but I want you to see the reverend this morning and make the necessary arrangements. I don’t believe in procrastinating when there is work to be done. I am assuming the wedding will be at the chapel in Crich?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

  She clapped her hands sharply. “Wake up, Nephew! This is your responsibility. You will go and arrange for the reading of the banns with Reverend Kirk. And I will discuss the plans for her trousseau with Harriet and her sister, Sophie. She’s handy with a needle.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and Bunting entered, bearing a silver tray which gave forth the enticing scent of fresh tea. “Ah, Bunting, would you please send word around to Tansley Cottage? I want both of the Handley girls to come here this afternoon, if they are able.”

  “Of course, Madame.” He bowed and closed the door.

  She rubbed her hands together briskly and busied herself pouring the tea. “Some tea before you leave, Nephew?”

  He shook his head, a little embarrassed he hadn’t given much thought to the practicalities of the wedding ceremony. Swept away by the thought of romancing his lovely fiancée, he fell behind on his usual methodical plan of action. “I’ll hitch up the gig and drive over to Crich right away.”

  “There’s a good boy.” She stood up, cupping his head in her hands. “John, you are my only living relative, and you have been like a son to me all these years.” She paused, her keen blue eyes misting over with tears. “I am so pleased you found a woman like Harriet, someone to love, honor and cherish you for the rest of your life. Be good to her, John. She is a good woman.”

  He reached over and planted a kiss on her wrinkled forehead. “Aunt Katherine, you are like a second mother to me. I hope I make you proud.”

  “I am sure you will.” She pushed him away and smiled, her tears drying. “Now, run on to Crich. And give my regards to Reverend Kirk. A kinder and more empathetic man of the cloth you will never find.”

  Talos didn’t enjoy being hitched to the gig, but Brookes’s leg had been bothering him more than he cared to admit, and such a long ride daunted him a bit. After he finished this task, he promised himself a bath. Going to the hot spring would calm his pains, the perfect way to end an arduous, but productive, day. Every time he took the waters, his strength increased and the phantom pains abated. He pulled the reins in gently and Talos tossed his head. Perhaps he should consider taking the waters a few times a week, at least until he married. He wanted to be in fine form for the happiest day of his life.

  The steeple of St. Mary’s rose sharply out of the hills, and he reined Talos in, gazing at it in wonder. The spire pierced the sky like a mighty arrow. In six months’ time, he would be here, hearing the bells peal merrily, on the day he took Harriet to be his wife.

  He flicked the reins, and they were off, closing the distance until he pulled into the churchyard. A little stone house, quaint and tidy, sat in the shadow of the large stone chapel. This must be Reverend Kirk’s residence. He alit from the gig and tied Talos to the hitching post. As he strode up the winding gravel path, an elderly man in a black shirt and coat waved. He was leaving through a side door of the chapel. Brookes squinted, vaguely recognizing the man from the blessing ceremony.

  “I am looking for Reverend Kirk,” Brookes called, extending his hand.

  “You’ve found him,” Reverend Kirk replied, and clasped Brookes’s hand in a firm grip. “How can I help you, my son?”

  “I am Captain John Brookes, and my aunt Katherine Crossley sends you her best wishes.”

  “Mrs. Crossley?” The old man smiled. “Yes, I remember her. In fact, I remember your whole family. You didn’t come to services very often, because of the distance, but when you did I was always happy to see you.”

  Brookes shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much. My parents died when I was a young man of thirteen, and my eldest brother inherited the estate and raised us both.”

  “Ah, yes, Henry. He was a good deal older than you, I recall.”

  “Yes, by five years.” Brookes had grown used to Henry’s absence, but the hushed and holy atmosphere of Crich brought his death sharply back to mind.

  “Are you here to speak to me about Henry?” Reverend Kirk looked at Brookes, his brow furrowed in confusion.

  “No, I am here because I am engaged, and I must see to the reading of the banns.”

  “Of course, my boy!” Reverend Kirk slapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Congratulations are in order. To whom are you engaged?”

  “Miss Harriet Handley, of Tansley Cottage.”

  Reverend Kirk dropped his hand and his smile widened in approval. “Harriet Handley? She is a fine young lady, Captain, you are lucky to have her.” His smile faded and he looked at Brookes searchingly. “I was very sorry to hear about her poor mother.”

  Brookes nodded. “Lady Handley suffered much pain in her life.”

  Reverend Kirk sighed. “Well, come inside, we’ll confer here in the chapel, if that is all right with you. My housekeeper is cleaning the house from top to bottom in preparation for the autumn and winter months, and everything is in uproar.”

  Brookes chuckled, and inclined his head in agreement. They passed through the wooden side door into the main chapel. The midafternoon sunlight glowed through the stained glass windows, illuminating the sanctuary in a kaleidoscope of jewel tones. The reverend motioned to a pew, and Brookes sank onto its velvet cushion gratefully.

  “Now, my son, we don’t usually read the banns until three Sundays before the ceremony. When’s the wedding to be?”

  “In February, when Harriet is out of mourning for her mother.”

  Reverend Kirk nodded. “Well, then we have an abundance of time. I will be sure to see to it for you, my son. Would the first Sunday in February work for a wedding ceremony?”

  Brookes toyed with the seam on the velvet cushion, to hide his mounting discomfort. Something was welling up inside his very soul, and he couldn’t understand what it meant. “First Sunday in February?” he echoed. “Yes, that should be fine.” He looked around the empty chapel, trying to come to grips with whatever was disturbing him.

  “Is there something else, my son?” Reverend Kirk lifted an eyebrow and looked at Brookes.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Brookes sighed heavily. A sudden urge to confess overwhelmed him. “May I speak frankly?”

  “Yes, of course you may.” Reverend Kirk sat down beside him on the pew and turned to face him.

  “Until I met Harriet, I had no faith in God. I had grown up, you must recall, with my parents teaching me a little about the Lord, but when they died—and Henry and I were lads raising ourselves—faith passed out of my life.” He paused, finding it difficult to put his emotions into words.

  Reverend Kirk me
rely listened, his countenance open and friendly.

  “I almost died at Waterloo. When I tried to pray, I could not even form the words in my mind. I lost my faith, and my leg, that horrible night. I did not even think I could regain my hope in God until Harriet opened my heart to Him.” He exhaled slowly. The knot in his chest loosened. The words flowed more easily, like the waters into the hot spring at Brookes Park.

  “I have a friend, a brother in arms, named Charles Cantrill. Charlie and Harriet have both tried to show me the way since my return. I am beginning to believe. But now that I am marrying Harriet, I feel unworthy of her unless I start my faith in God anew. Tell me, Reverend, what must I do to properly start my walk in faith?”

  Reverend Kirk shook his head and smiled. “Every day is a walk in faith. Your actions on a daily basis determine your relationship with the Lord. There is no need to perform any action to start your walk anew.”

  “But I feel the need of some formal ritual, or rite, or sacrament—”

  Reverend Kirk held up his hand. “You feel that way because you are used to regimentation. That is a soldier’s lot in life. But there is no need of formal rituals, my son. If you wish, I will be happy to pray with you. Or I will leave you in peace here in the sanctuary so you can pray alone. Whatever you wish.” He gave Brookes a kindly pat on the shoulder, but Brookes had one more question.

  “Until Harriet came into my life, I would have these nightmares. I couldn’t sleep. I actually feared slumber, because with it came these horrible night terrors. But once I began reliving my experiences, and talking to Harriet about what happened, they ceased. Why?”

  “I cannot be certain, Captain, but I would imagine they ceased because in sharing the horror of what you suffered, you did not feel alone anymore. In telling Harriet of your experiences, you drained the pain and the terror from your conscious being. She has truly been your helpmate, or so it sounds to me.”

  “She has.” His heart glowed.