The Silent Love

by Diane Davis White

  It had taken all of his skills as a mediator to keep her from leaving. He for one would be very relieved when the child was born and things could return to normal. Of course, he did not take into account that a new babe in the house would preclude anything like what he considered to be normal for a very long time.

  Distracted from his errand by the sound of an arriving carriage, he went to the door and was most gratified to see Master David stepping out of the coach. Rugged and wind burned, his face fairly glowed with health and his neat trim beard outlined the granite of his long jaw very nicely. A gentleman born, thought the old retainer, as he hurried to greet the lad.

  "Darwin, you old devil! So good to see you!" David spoke as though he had known the man forever, but in fact had only met the butler during his brief visits to the house a few months earlier, though they were cousins, of a distant connection, but cousins nonetheless. It was a sign of his newfound confidence that he could come forward to the servant in such a manner.

  "My father? How is he?" David, anxious to see his parent, threaded his way around the footmen carrying his trunks—of which there were many—then moved into the foyer, his eyes darting everywhere for a glimpse of her. He was disappointed as she was nowhere in sight. His heart lifted, however, at the butlers words.

  "Your father is doing quite well, actually. He will be delighted to see you. He has followed your travels and pinned a map to the wall, that he might stick pins in it, marking every port you have been in."

  "And my... stepmother?" David realized with a start that she was his stepmother, and it gave him a very odd feeling indeed. "Is she fairing well in her... condition?"

  "Not so well, I am afraid. She does suffer from a great many things these days. But be of good cheer, for the doctor has assured us all that she will come through fine. Just so... despondent, I suppose you might say. The doctor says that is quite normal as well."

  Darwin, knowing that the young master would want to know as much about the mistress of the house as he could glean, had spoken more than was his normal habit. There were few secrets in this house he was not privy too. He went on his way quietly, his long, aquiline 'Larkspur' nose lifted haughtily, as usual, and his black Strongbow eyes speculative.

  "David, my boy! Is that you out there in the hall! Come in and let me have a look at you!" At the sound of his father's voice, so strong and sure, David hurried into the study and went directly to the old fellow, taking him into a bear hug when his parent, with some difficulty, stood up and held out his hands.

  "Father. I am glad you are well. Mr. Maguire made it sound as though you were on your deathbed. I was beside myself, worrying." David swallowed a lump in his throat and accepted a glass of port, seating himself near his father's desk.

  "Are you home then for good?" The Marquis looked keenly at the man, noting his changed appearance and newfound confidence with gratification.

  "Well, I suppose I shall have to be if you want my assistance with the estate and... other things as well." He alluded to his guardianship and fell silent, waiting.

  "Yes, by all means, I expect you to do your part. You have come through for me in the past... " the Marquis alluded to the pregnancy, "... and I expect you'll continue to do so."

  "How will you explain my presence here?"

  "Nothing to explain. You're my son returned home after a great adventure and you are going to take up country living... giving an old man ease in his last days."

  "Surely not days... more like years from the look of you."

  "Well, one can never be sure, of course, but I tell you that since Hannah came to me with the news, I've been fairly glowing with health. Something about having a new babe in the offing that makes a man young."

  Not wanting David to worry, he failed to tell him about his fretting and the dreams, his stress over Hannah's condition and the length of his recent illness.

  "Yes... I see what you mean." David was thoughtful, and he posed his next question with his heart in his throat. "Will I meet this stepmother of mine today?"

  "Stepmother? Hannah? My word, boy, she is just nineteen years old. Turned last Friday, as a matter of fact. Don't even refer to her as that. More like, you must think of her as a little sister."

  "I could hardly do that... under the circumstances, but I will endeavor to try. Do we have anything to discuss... ah, about the letter I left for you? You did get it, did you not?"

  "Yes, I got it. Broke my heart, it did. But nothing I can think of to talk about right now. Later, perhaps. Have to tell you though. Didn't surprise me one whit, what you revealed, that is. Knew all along, had a look about her... she was glowing." He paused, eyeing his son, whose face had turned into a mask of anguish. Wanting to prepare him for Hannah's condition, he spoke again, " but now, of course, she is not."

  "She is not what?" Lady Darlington came into the room, her gentle voice stroking over David's senses, causing a burning behind his eyes and in his groin, as well. Heart thudding, he turned to look at her, schooling his features to polite interest. Her amber eyes were haunted, and her thin face was pinched and sallow, but the glory of her pregnancy shown through, though it was obvious she was unwell.

  "Are you discussing me with this gentleman?" Hannah, stomach distended with the child, her movements cumbersome, went to her husband and bussed his cheek affectionately, and then turned to her guest, her amber eyes resting innocently on the man who tormented her thoughts.

  "Hannah, this is my son David. The one who has been away at sea." The Marquis peered closely at the pair, his curiosity high, as he witnessed their first public meeting.

  "David, this is Hannah, Lady Darlington, my wife."

  "How do you do." She held out a graceful hand to be kissed. David froze, afraid to touch her, afraid that she might sense something, or worse yet, remember the feel of his lips on her fingertips.

  "Lady Darlington." He bowed over her hand and brushed her knuckles with his closed mouth, not daring to breath as he did so, as her essence was already filling his brain and other parts of his body as well. He stepped quickly back, dropping her hand.

  "Call me Hannah. Even Darwin refers to me as 'That Lady Hannah' most of the time." She smiled at him and his heart went still, then began to beat rapidly, knocking against his ribs.

  "Are you going to be with us for awhile?" Hannah queried him, her eyes full of questions other than the one she had just asked. Something stirred in her subconscious, and a tremor went down her spine.

  "David is moving home, my dear. Going to take over some of my burdens about the estate." The Marquis quickly spoke up, forestalling David's answer. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Actually, he is the designated guardian for my heir, once I am gone. Do you not remember that particular clause in our... contract?"

  For some inexplicable reason, Hannah was having trouble breathing and her face had paled. She clutched the back of her husband's chair to ward off a dizzy spell. "Guardian?" She whispered hoarsely, so low that neither man heard her.

  "You will be with us for a long time, sir. It would not do for you to fly away to heaven and leave your new born without the benefit of your wisdom... and love." David spoke up in his turn, boring his dark eyes into the silver ones, willing the old man to live.

  "Sure I am going to heaven, are you?" The Marquis, reading correctly his son's intent in his dark brown eyes, wanted to lighten the moment. Hannah's hand move to rest on his shoulder and he sensed the trembling disturbance that emanated from her.

  David noticed her distress as well, and moved to pull a large comfortable chair closer to where she stood, not wanting her to walk any further than necessary. She looked as though she might faint.

  The chair was heavy and awkward, but he seemed to muscle it across the room with ease. "Lady Darlington... Hannah, please be seated. You do not look well. A lady in your delicate condition should not be standing about."

  He took her arm and assisted her to lower her awkward body into the deep leather lounge chair, his touch burning them
both. She glanced up at him with startled eyes, the contact so familiar on her bare arm that she thought she might faint.

  Her eyes followed him as he returned to sit on the edge of the desk next to his father's chair. He moved a certain way, with easy grace... so familiar.

  Having never met him, Hannah was puzzled by the awareness his touch engendered. She'd been aware of it when he'd kissed her hand, though in truth he had only bussed his closed mouth against her knuckles, a far cry from those tender lips that had pressed her fingertips in the night.

  Still, there had been a moment when his touch had blazed through her like fire, and she was discomfited to have responded so to a stranger. Just as her silent visitor in the night had been a stranger. Her heart lurched and she looked at him more closely. He averted his eyes, but not before she saw something flicker there she would sooner not have seen.

  Her heart tripped against her ribs, and her hands grew clammy. He knew her. And she knew him, though she could not possibly.

  "You are going to be my son's guardian?" Her voice was strained, for no one had told her this. She remembered vaguely something in the contract about a guardian, but she had not paid much attention at the time. She could not remember, in fact, ever having heard of this man until recently when the Marquis had begun to speak of him.

  She knew he was not legitimate, and she knew that he had been to sea for the last several months... and according to the Marquis, had in fact, sailed, about the time the silent man had gone away.

  A horrible suspicion rose in her breast and she sat up abruptly, her head spinning from the rapid movement. "I... feel ill, Milord. Would you call Darwin to assist me to my room?"

  She put her hands on the arms of the chair and tried to lift her weight, but the chair was deep and she was heavy... heavier than her small thin arms would allow.

  David came off the desk so quickly that papers scattered, and reached to aid her. She shrank away from his hand and would not look at him. "Do not trouble yourself, sir. Darwin is accustomed to... to aiding me and he knows just how. I am rather a handful, I am afraid."

  Her voice was matter of fact and showed no trace of her pain or misery, but her eyes held those emotions, and more, in full measure. She lifted her gaze for a moment and stared hard at David.

  His blood chilled at the loathing reflected there, and he stepped back as though she had struck him. He looked quickly away, unable to bear the stinging accusation in her amber eyes.

  Darwin came instantly to her side and with tender regard for his mistress, lifted her from the chair with practiced ease. She leaned heavily against the butler's arm as he led her from the room. David's eyes followed her, and, suddenly, he knew what had happened.

  "She knows. I don't know how, but she does." He looked at the Marquis with distress, running a hand through his already tousled ebony curls. "I did not think... should not have touched her, I suppose."

  He looked again at his father, whose eyes held a gleam of something he could not fathom.

  "Well, there is nothing for it but to confess the whole thing, I suppose. She did look strange when she came in and saw you. Of course, she has been so ill lately, perhaps you are mistaken."

  "No." The single word, emitted through tightly compressed lips, fell into a silent room. "I saw the look in her eyes." David sighed deeply and went to the drinks tray. "One finger or two?"

  "Two. No, on second thought, brim the glass. I need a deal of courage at this moment."

  "I know what you mean. I feel like jumping off the nearest cliff."

  David, mulling around the idea of running off again, spoke his thought to his father. "Perhaps I should leave. She was terribly upset, and I don't want to make things worse for her. I can see this has not been an easy confinement."

  "Mayhap you could leave and it would ease her. But I somehow doubt it." The elder paused and gave his son a speculative look. "I have changed my will, you know."

  "Well, of course, with the arrival of an heir, one must make accommodations."

  "Nothing to do with that... at least not directly." He waved David to the seat vacated by Hannah, where David leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

  "Tell me then? Are you completely disowning me?" Though it was said in jest, David looked just worried enough that the Marquis nearly choked on the fine malt liquor.

  "Have you done such terrible deeds that I would be justified?" The Marquis, wiping the liquid from his chin, kept his searching gaze on David's face. "Actually, I have given a condition that you and Hannah will have to come to terms with... before I die."

  "What condition is that?" David looked suspiciously at his parent, his glass halfway to his mouth.

  "That you marry, of course."

  David, who was just taking a sip, choked and sat up straight, rage boiling in his dark eyes. "What did you say?"

  He leaned forward and set the glass carefully on the edge of the desk, then got to his feet.

  "I cannot countenance this interference, father. What you suggest is... impossible. And what of her? Do you honestly believe that she could ever forgive me? Or want to wed with me?"

  The Marquis sat up straighter in his chair, deciding in an instant to take charge and deliver an ultimatum. Thinking to force his son to his will he fixed him with an autocratic glare. A glimpse of the iron ruler he once was conveyed itself in his voice and manner. "If you want the guardianship of your son, you will do as I say. And her as well, if she wishes to keep her child close to her."

  It had been many a year since he had conveyed such an order, but his tone and manner were such that one would think he did it every day. David, rising abruptly from his chair, saw only the glitter of willfulness in the eyes of the Marquis, missing the fleeting look of dismay that passed into them as he turned toward the door.

  David crossed the room in three long strides, fury evident in the taunt line of his bearing and as he reached the door, he swung back, stormy ebony eyes meeting cool silver ones. "I will be at the cottage for a day or two, then I shall be gone. If you change your mind about this folly, perhaps we can make some arrangement, but I will not stay here. It is too obvious to me that she loathes me, and I cannot abide the look of hate she will surely have in her eyes when I see her next... if I see her at all."

  He paused for a moment, saying, "I hope you do not mean to tell me that you would threaten Hannah with the loss of her child. I would fight you for that, Father. I would tell all... mark my words.

  "Do not tempt me in this, for I will not have her hurt by your manipulations. For a while you had me fooled with your smiles and generosity but I can see my early impressions of you were correct. You are a heartless selfish old devil." Drawing himself up to his full six foot three, he challenged his father's gaze then quit the room.

  The Marquis slumped back in his chair, worrying the situation, mulling it over in his ponderous way. He had known that David might be adverse to his plan—at first, at any rate—but had not expected the rage and pain he had seen in his son's eyes.

  The old peer had thought to get the pair of them wed and make them happy, but he could see that forcing the issue would not work, and he must think of a new plan.

  In the meantime David must be kept on the estate, else nothing could be done to aid the two young people. He called for Dobson and with the servant's help, made his way to his wife's rooms. He needed to determine the state of her knowledge... and her mind.

  .

  * * * * *

  .

  Hannah heard the knock on her door, but she turned on her side and ignored it. She wanted to see no one, speak to no one. Her suspicion about the Marquis' son was true; she knew it in her heart.

  She had responded to his touch in a way that she thought she would never do again with any man... and knew that he was the man who had come to her in the dark. She had seen his knowledge of her in his eyes... for one brief moment.

  David Strongbow... silent lover. She had allowed her own stepson such intimacy that God could su
rely never forgive her. The sin that lay heavy upon her soul crushed her with its weight. How could she live with this duplicity?

  The pair of them had plotted against her, pretending that a stranger would be selected. Someone who would not know her true identity.

  I was such a fool to believe them. Of course my identity could not be kept from the man. He would have to know why he was here, and who I am.

  Hannah thrashed about on her pillows, uncertain how to respond to this humiliation, but knowing in her heart that she had been ill used.

  Suddenly, she felt dirty all over—as though she would never be clean again. It had been difficult enough when she knew not the identity of the man who had come to her in the night. Now she didn't think it possible she could face anyone—especially him.

  She sat up with some difficulty as her door opened and her maid came in. Behind the maid, Darwin hovered, an anxious expression covering his features. She saw the Marquis as well, leaning against Dobson's arm at the opposite wall.

  "Milady? Are you needing anything?"

  "Go away... all of you. I am fine. I only wish to be left alone." Her voice strident, her manner cool and aloof, she fooled no one. The look in her eyes and the morose set of her shoulders told their own story.

  "Close the door and leave me," she managed in a gritty voice, just as pain attacked her abdomen. She doubled over and nearly fell from the bed, an excruciating cramp reaching clear around her from front to back and then down her legs.

  "Go for the midwife and the doctor, quickly!" The Marquis, moving with an agility normally alien to his crippled legs, shoved into the room and caught Hannah's right arm, as the maid caught the other, easing her back onto the bed.

  Hannah doubled over once more, drawing her knees up, thrashing about with one arm pressed to her swollen middle, while the other clawed the air in desperation. Elspeth grabbed the flailing hand and pressed it with her own, astonished at the strength of her mistresses' grip and she clung to her. "Milord, perhaps we should get my aunt... she is closer by and has seen many a first birthing through with success."