"You would keep this missive? Or shall I burn it?"
"Burn it."
"Yes, it is just as well no trace of their... alliance should be committed to paper, no matter how vague the message. Would you have a glass of port then Clayton?"
Consulting his pocket watch, he replied, "I shall have time for a small glass and we needs discuss the girl." Since his sons return it had become harder for him to refer to Hannah as his wife.
"You soothe her with your presence. I would that you could impart your great wisdom to the child, for she has no mother to comfort her, and I am ill equipped to aid her in this." He paused for an instant, and then plunged on, "Will you help?"
Not speaking, Mary nodded her consent, and touched his shoulder lightly in some sympathy, for she could see that he was driven by his desire to right the wrongs he had caused, but she could see as well, that he did not fully comprehend them.
And so the pair of them sat, working through the tangle of deceit and misery, seeking to aid their child and the woman he loved. Anyone passing the house of Gillian Strongbow might have spied them and wondered at their companionable ease of manner with one another, and, in truth, there were a few who did just that, adding a new slant to the gossip about goings on at the manor house.
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* * * * *
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David finished his solitary meal, sitting at a corner table in White's. Though many there knew him, and some might have come to speak with him and share a bit of camaraderie, his forbidding demeanor kept them from approaching.
He was just as glad, for he wanted none of their idle gossip and talk of wenching and gambling. David was a changed man since his last visit here, and though London held nothing for him—except exile and loneliness—he knew that for now, at least, this would be his home. He could not go back, and he could not yet go forward.
It had been difficult for him to leave, more difficult than anything he had ever faced and he had almost caved in to his emotions and stayed. The one thing that had stopped him had been a snip of gossip, overheard accidentally, when he'd been at his grandfather's smithy shop, unseen in a far corner, whittling one of the toy soldiers to pass the time.
Toby Rawlings and his son were waiting for some horseshoes, and had wandered into his area, though he was hidden behind a large three-tiered shelf. Their words had shaken him to the core, and rage had enveloped him so strongly, it frightened him. He remembered again the sneering voice of the older man and the answering snicker of the boy, as they discussed Hannah, clearly saying that 'the old Marquis was cuckold in his own house... by his by-blow'.
He had come from behind the shelves, casually, holding the small carving knife loosely in one hand and the bit of wood in the other, looked at them in such a way that neither father nor son was in doubt a drubbing would occur if they did not leave, and so they beat a hasty retreat.
Sighing at the memory, David wondered if he would have been better off to have beaten them both senseless, but knew that would have only fueled the fire. His silence in the matter—aided by the respect garnered in the community for his mother and grandfather—would eventually prevail, and where there was no sinner, there could be no sin. Thus he had gone straight to the cottage and begun preparations to leave.
Four days had passed since his departure. Four days of torture, for he had not seen Hannah or the babe, had left her no communication, and only the letter for his father had been left behind. His heart gladdened somewhat as he thought of the newfound communion between his parents, for as every child wishes his parents to love one another, the child in David was no different.
He knew that his mother would give the old man the letter, and probably would tell everything he had told her as well. He knew that in future, what he told one, the other would be privy to, and somehow his spirit lifted, thinking of it. But the feeling was only a short respite from his current gloom, and he finished his meal quickly for he had business with the solicitor.
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* * * * *
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Alistair Maguire sat back in his chair, twirling a quill between his fingers as he studied the earnest face of the young man seated across from him. He was a deal astonished at David, for the last time he had had direct communication with the fellow, they had discussed the unsavory details of his seduction of the young Marchioness. The fellow seated across from him now was a far cry from the other, for David had grown immensely, in character and maturity.
The attorney could not quite believe that such a change had come about in so short a time, but the proof was in the pudding, so to speak—in David's request—therefore, he took his time thinking it over.
"Let me make sure I've heard you clearly, Mr. Strongbow. You wish to remove half of your allowance each month into a trust—with the Marchioness as trustee under my tutelage—for your father's heir?"
"That is correct. To be held in trust until he is of an age to properly appreciate and use the funds. I thought five and twenty a good age. Of course, should the need arise before that time, I would give you leeway to make a decision for an earlier release of funds. I do trust your judgment."
"And this other matter... the one of your venture into shipbuilding. You are certain this is a good investment? You know nothing, after all, of shipbuilding."
David sat up straighter in his chair, his hands coming together in a tent as he rested his elbows on the desk. He spoke with confidence, and no trace of arrogance. "While it is true that I have little knowledge of it at this time and my sojourn aboard various vessels this last year would not give me sufficient business acumen to say so... " he paused a moment, feeling his way, "... I have great confidence in Master Quigley and know him to be very successful in his trade."
Reaching into his inner pocket he drew forth a packet and laid it upon the desk between them. "I have here a legal document I would like you to look at. It is the contract he has proposed... though I do have one or two changes I would like to make. Still, I value your advice most well sir."
Not proof against a little flattery, Mr. Maguire smiled—a sincere smile, unlike his officious grimace—and lifted the packet, hefting its weight. "I will read through this then, and, if your are so disposed, I will attend you tomorrow at say... three in the afternoon, and we shall discuss your new venture in more depth."
"One thing more, sir. I would not have Lady Darlington know from whom these funds come. She has developed, shall we say, a distaste for my company, and I should not want her further upset."
Mr. Maguire nodded his compliance and—very wisely—kept his own council on the subject. The two men shook hands, rather unheard of between a peer and his solicitor, and parted company most amicably.
David's new life had begun. And though he regretted having to use the tainted inheritance to further his schemes, he really had little choice were he to become a successful financier, thus his step was light and his heart, if not free of pain, was a bit more gentled than it had been in some time.
The first step of his journey into the world of business having been taken, his mind quickly moved forward to other ventures he had been thinking about and David was preoccupied with his thoughts so that he forgot, for awhile, his troubles.
The contract that had been implemented called for David to travel on at least one passenger schooner or cargo vessel within a month of the agreement. And travel again within six months, and another six months after that, for a total of at least six voyages before he could become fully a partner in the business.
Mr. Quigley wanted his protégée to have the benefit of experience firsthand before he started training him to handle the business. It was a wise move on Quigley's part, for no one wanted a partner who did not know something of the industry, but it was a blow to David, who wanted no more to do with the high seas.
David took Mr. Maguire, and sat down with Quigley for the purpose of negotiating a compromise to this clause in their contract. The final result was that David would go on the next outbound vessel heading fo
r the Orient, and would be required to go only once more on a passenger schooner to the colonies.
Both voyages, being lengthy due to the many stops and side trips involved, would take well over a year. In return for this concession, David would agree to an apprenticeship of two years—to be completed in the Liverpool offices—before coming into partnership.
David agreed reluctantly, for his stomach was already rebelling at just the thought of the roiling decks and fierce storms of the ocean.
Repealing his decision to stay away, before he sailed, he went home once more to visit his father. David realized the note he had left his parent was not sufficient, and he wanted his goodbyes to be in person.
There was a deeper, hidden motive, of course.
David shied from thinking upon it.
Chapter Thirteen
~~
The Marquis leaned over the cradle, bracing his weight on the cane, and peered into the interior where his grandson and heir lay sleeping. The child's wide brow and olive complexion bespoke the Strongbow side of his heritage. His tiny mouth, puckered even in sleep, did so as well, for his bottom lip was full and fat.
But his nose, already shaping into the aquiline 'Larkspur' feature, could have come from either line. For the Strongbow's had been on this land longer than their Norman conquerors, and many a maid from that dynasty had borne a brat or two to the lord of the manor over the centuries.
Even Gillian Strongbow had that nose. He was, in fact, third cousin, once removed, to the Marquis, though neither man acknowledged the kinship.
"He will be a fine strong fellow. Do you not think so Hannah?" Clayton twisted to look at the girl, who sat in her rocker, her gaze lifted to the window, unseeing eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Yes... he shall be that, Milord. And, mayhap he will be much more, for I would have him strong of character and... and moral as well." Hannah's voice was only slightly distracted, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere.
Suddenly she sat up straight in the rocker and leaned forward to peer more closely out the window. "There is someone coming."
She then stood so quickly that the rocker nearly tipped backward, and continued to rock wildly, long after she had fled the room.
"Hannah, Hannah! Where are you going child?"
The Marquis, not receiving an answer, went to the window and spied his son, sitting atop the high-seated curricle, handling the reins with negligent ease. He watched a moment more before turning away.
Admonishing Dobson to hurry it up, he practically pulled his aide along as he made his way to the foyer below. There was no sign of Hannah, for the girl had fled to her rooms.
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* * * * *
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David climbed down from his perch and hurried up the steps, greeting his father with a courteous bow that somehow got lost as his father grabbed him in a robust hug, which David returned in full measure, once he regained his balance.
Dobson, standing ready to aid his master, was quickly dispatched to other duties as David took his father's arm, holding it firmly in his strong grip as they turned into the house.
"My boy, I thought not to see you again in this place. Have you then changed your mind? Are you coming home to us?" The Marquis fired off his questions as they repaired to the study.
David did not answer until they were seated by the fire, facing one another.
"No, father, I am not home to stay. I only come to visit for a day." David then went on to explain his impending voyage, his newfound business venture and his hopes for the future he would build alone. He finished with, "And, so I thought to see the child once more, and you of course. How fares your lady wife?"
That last was torn from him, and his voice was strained immeasurably, his throat working with the effort.
"She does better, though she is hiding, I fear, since she saw you approaching the house." The Marquis looked closely at his son, witnessing the pallor that his words had caused. "David, give her time. When she has healed from her pain, she will give you a better welcome."
"No, father. She will never do that. I would that it were true, but she feels betrayed and rightly so. Still, I am gladdened that she is improving."
David wanted nothing more than to climb the stairs to Hannah's room and take her into his arms, speak with her and gain her forgiveness, but knew the folly of it, and so contented himself with a trip to the nursery instead.
Both men stood over the cradle, David's eyes brimming with pride in the babe, who had one tiny fist curled tightly round his sire's thumb. "He is strong, has a mighty grip for such a tiny whelp."
"If you think his grip strong, you should hear his screams when he wants the tit. I vow I have not had a good night's rest these last six weeks." The Marquis gave a small snort of laughter and spoke once more. "Take the boy up and sit with him in the rocker for awhile. He has been fed within this hour, so should not scream the house down around our ears for awhile at least."
The Marquis turned away, adding, "You may join me in the study when you have done visiting."
David gently lifted his son; one large hand splayed at his neck and head, the other supporting his body, and carried him to the rocker. Laying the child across his lap, he carefully removed the swaddling blanket and studied the child's form, counting toes and running his hands over the sturdy little body.
In a voice choked with emotion, he whispered. "Tis your father, lad. Would that I could be here to see you to manhood, but you must grow without me."
The babe opened his amber eyes and looked straight into David's dark ones, as though he could understand his father's words... as though he understood the deep sorrow in his voice.
Covering the babe once more, he lifted him into his arms and brushed his lips over the soft black down of his hair, breathing in the essence of the child—a faint mixture of sour milk and strong, clean soap. David settled back and began to rock him, his arms strong and sure about the child, whose eyes drifted shut as he fell into slumber once more.
Hannah moved close to the door of the nursery, her body flat against the wall as she sought to keep hidden. She could hear the rocker creaking softly as David rocked their child. She cautiously peered around the doorframe, knowing that the rocker faced the window and she would likely not be seen.
His dark head rose above the back of the chair and she could see the column of his strong neck, the granite of his profile as his head was turned slightly to the side, and she remarked as well, the strong hand that lay atop the child, patting gently as he rocked.
Her heart was beating rapidly, her eyes streaming with tears of grief and loss as she looked at him.
The hair prickled on the back of his neck as David sensed her presence. He knew she watched him, for he could hear the soft breath escaping her lips and knew her pain and longing; knew her eyes feasted upon him. He dared not move or turn his head, lest she run away. He continued to rock gently until the babe whimpered and stirred, his small mouth sucking air as he moved his tiny head, seeking his repast.
Soundlessly, Hannah watched for a long moment, and jumped back quickly as David arose and placed the child in the cradle. Hannah sped on quiet feet, down the short flight of steps and back along the hall to her rooms. She waited just inside the door, her breathing shallow and quick.
His footfalls passed her door, pausing for a moment, and then pressed on slowly, fading into the distance. She fell upon her knees next to her bed, her head bowed in supplication as she prayed for release from her pain and forgiveness for her sin.
She prayed as well for David's safe journey through life.
* * * * *
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Declining his father's invitation to stay for luncheon, pleading his long drive as an excuse to be gone, he went to visit his mother, briefly. They spoke of his upcoming voyage, his new curricle, and many things. But they did not speak of Hannah. Sensing her son's withdrawal from the subject, Mary wisely stayed off the topic that was uppermost in her mind.
He visited as wel
l, with his grandfather, who pressed a small carved soldier into his hand, saying only that this memento would mayhap keep him close to home in heart when he should look upon it.
The piece would make the set short by one, and often the child would wonder that he was missing one of his generals, as he grew older.
As he prepared to leave, his mother looked up at him, her dark eyes wise and knowing. And she spoke the words that he could not ask.
"She is able now to cope with the burden, David. I think perhaps in time she will be able to forgive herself, and in doing so, she will forgive you. I know that she loves you, though she has not said so. Women know these things. Be of good cheer and come back to us safe, my son."
David knew not when he would find the time or courage to return. He waved one final time to his mother and his grandsire then slapped the reins, giving the cattle their head.
He swung the carriage about heading back toward London, his eyes feasting upon the countryside, drinking in memories that would have to last; perhaps a lifetime. His heart stayed behind, leaving only the pulsing shell of pain that rested in his chest cavity... pumping the blood through his veins, keeping him alive, though he oft wished it would stop.
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* * * * *
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"Hannah, I would speak with you." The Marquis stood in her doorway until she yielded and allowed him entry to the antechamber. Seating himself, he dismissed Dobson and looked gravely at the girl. "You know that my son was here today?"
"Yes." Her voice was a whisper of haunted sound.
"Why then did you not come down to greet him?"
Her head flew up at the question, and she glared at the old man, her amber eyes, behind their jeweled frames, alight with indignation. "You know well why I did not. How can you ask?"
"He was disappointed not to see you. And, I am sure the servants are wondering, as well, that you would remove to your chambers instead of receiving family."
"Let them wonder, then. 'Tis no concern to me what those babbling fools think, say or do." Her voice was strident and suddenly very strong as she spoke, knowing the gossip spread about her and David had reached into the far corners of the valley.
The Silent Love Page 13
