by Tracy Grant
"Then he was never a part of the partnership?"
"I didn't say that." Sherry pulled up to allow a woman and two young girls to cross from one pavement to the other. "It seemed obvious, you see, Talbot being in the Ordnance Office. The foundry was new. At least, it was new with the three of us behind it, and Ordnance contracts tended to go to the more established firms."
"Talbot helped you?"
"Of course," Sherry said, sounding surprised that she needed to ask. "That's the way things are done. Lord, they were crying for artillery about that time. There was always room for another supplier if he could get in a good word for himself. Talbot did well by us and we saw that he got his share. None of us grudged it."
"No, I suppose not." Caroline knew she should not have been surprised. What Talbot had done was common. No one would think it out of the way for him to oblige his brother, and if Edward obliged him with the ready in return it was no one's business at all. Sherry had not told her anything more than what she and Adam had suspected, but it was confirmation at least. Talbot had had a stake in the foundry's success.
They were both quiet for a time. Then Sherry said, "Pity, that things turned out the way they did."
Caroline did not want his pity, and when she spoke her voice was sharp with anger. "Don't try to protect my delicate feelings, Sherry. I've long since learned to do without them. I know that Jared bribed an Ordnance inspector. It was morally wrong, if nothing else. It was probably criminally wrong as well, but he had an influential family. I know why he did it. We were always short of money, and his judgment was weak at best." She did not think Sherry knew that Jared had taken funds from Edward's account and saw no reason to bring this up. There was already enough to damn her husband.
Sherry glanced down at her. He must have read the anger in her face, for his words were conciliatory. "I know. I'm as sorry as I can be for what happened to Jared and for what he put you and Emily through." He turned his attention to the horses and chewed his lip for a while. "See here, Caroline. I don't want you to misunderstand me, but we're old friends and I think I have the right to say this. I don't know how Jared left you, about money, I mean, but if you need anything...well, I'd like to help."
Caroline's anger evaporated. She was touched by his concern and the clumsy way he expressed it, but she could not accept anything from him. She told him so, gently but firmly, and when they reached Red Lion Square they were once again on their usual friendly terms.
She parted from Sherry on the pavement before the house. "I had a lovely afternoon," she said. "Thank you for giving it to me."
Sherry was holding her hand rather longer than was necessary. "I'll call again if I may."
"Yes, I'd like that. And do bring your two young friends."
That was perhaps a cruel thing to say, given his reluctance to release her hand. As long as she had known him, Sherry had treated her with something just this side of flirtation. He had made his admiration clear, but he had never stepped across the line. But now she was free and he had come into his inheritance and his mother thought he should be thinking of marriage.
Caroline mounted the steps to the front door. The Wellstones kept a manservant and a parlormaid, but there was more than enough work for both and she saw no reason to ring. She opened the door and closed it firmly behind her. Was it so unthinkable, that she might marry again? For Emily's sake, it would be a sensible move. She wanted above everything to keep her daughter safe, and she knew the world was not kind to women and children who lived without the protection of a man. But she did not want to marry, even someone as kind and generous as Sherry. Even—no, not even Adam.
She heard his voice coming from the parlor at the back of the hall and found him there drinking tea with Margaret. Adam rose as she entered the room, his eyes taking in her unaccustomed finery. "Did you have a pleasant drive?"
Caroline heard the censure in his voice and felt a flare of anger. He had withdrawn from her, but his jealousy persisted. "Very pleasant," she said, untying her bonnet. "I'd forgot how gay and how very crowded the park is. We stopped and talked to dozens of people." She sat down and accepted a cup of tea from Margaret. "Oh, we ran into Andy and Jack. They asked about Elena, whom they still think is Mrs. Plumb, and they asked about Emily. I told them they might call." She turned to Margaret, suddenly aware that this was not her house. "I hope that's all right."
"It's perfectly all right." Margaret glanced at Adam. She could hardly help but notice the scowl that disfigured his face. "Emily speaks of them constantly. They're great favorites."
"Yes," Adam said in a harsh voice, "Emily should certainly receive callers. She's quite at home in London, isn't she? As is her mother."
"Why shouldn't I be, Adam?" Caroline's voice was taut with anger. "It was my home."
Adam met her gaze, then looked away. He drew his hand across his face in a gesture of weariness and resignation. "Of course it was, Caro. If you'll excuse me, I have an errand." He left the room quickly and she heard the front door close firmly behind him.
The silence after he left was a palpable sound. Caroline turned to Margaret, who was quietly sipping her tea. "I'm so sorry. That was my fault. I can't learn to curb my wretched tongue."
Margaret set down her cup and reached for a basket of mending that stood on the floor beside her chair. "Adam behaved badly," she said in a calm voice.
"Yes, but even so."
Margaret pulled a stocking over her hand and inspected a small hole. "Even so." She picked up a needle, already threaded, and began work on the stocking. "You always quarreled like this, even as children."
"I didn't want to." Caroline felt the pricking of tears against her eyelids. "No, that's not fair. I always wanted to control him, to make him do just as I wished. I suppose I drove him to our quarrels."
Margaret looked up from her mending and stared at Caroline, as though seeking something in her face. Apparently satisfied, she turned her attention back to the stocking. "Yes, you did, more times than I can count." She finished the stocking, rolled it up, and returned it to the basket. "But it was not entirely your fault, my dear. Adam was desperately afraid of losing the people he loved. He didn't give his affections easily, but when he did, he clung like a little leech.
"But not with you."
Margaret smiled. "I wouldn't allow it."
"That's why he loves you so much." Caroline looked down at her hands. Jared's ring was still on her finger. It was so much a part of her she had forgot she still wore it. "I suppose it was because of his parents, losing them when he was so young."
"His mother, particularly. Do you know how she died?"
Caroline did not. She and Adam had shared everything but this. "He never wanted to talk about it," she said.
"I think you should know." Margaret returned the basket to the floor, then sat back and folded her hands. She looked suddenly weary. "His mother was Hindu. You knew that, of course. Her father was a shopkeeper and she came from a large family. When Adam was nine she decided to return to her village. Her family had disowned her when she married, but she wanted her son to know something of the heritage she'd given him. In those days Adam could have passed for Indian. His skin was darkened by years in the sun and he spoke Hindi like a native. Perhaps she thought the sight of her boy would weaken her father's anger."
"Did she see her family?" Caroline asked when Margaret did not continue.
"No. There'd been trouble in the village, I understand. There was always trouble in one village or another, and always British soldiers nearby to put it down. As Adam tells it, they were walking through the marketplace. His father was with them, in uniform, I suppose, but he was far from his own base and knew nothing of the situation in the village. Suddenly some soldiers came running by, chasing a Hindu man. Then other Hindus threw rocks at the soldiers, who opened fire. The marketplace, you understand, was filled with people and many of them were shot. Adam's mother took his hand and they ran for cover, straight into the muzzle of a British gun. She fel
l at once and he threw himself on top of her. There must have been a fearful amount of disorder. He vaguely remembers screams and gunshots and people running. He couldn't believe she was dead."
"Oh, dear God." Caroline took a deep breath. "Where was his father?"
"He'd got separated from his wife. I think he was trying to stop the massacre. When he finally saw his son, he ran toward him, but in the confusion he was shot as well."
Caroline could scarcely comprehend the horror of the simply told story. "What happened to Adam?" she asked after a moment.
"No one paid him any attention. The soldiers thought he was a little Hindu boy. Then they found his father's body. They must have been puzzled, since he wasn't one of their men. Adam saw them pick up his father and thought it was one final desecration. He hurled himself on the soldiers shouting very British curses, so they knew then that he was English. They took him away till they could decide what to do with him. They took his father too, for burial, but his mother was left in the marketplace and he never knew what happened to her."
Caroline, remembering the haunted look in Adam's eyes the day he arrived in Finley-Abbott, could see the scene clearly. She had an impulse to throw her arms round the child he had been, to offer comfort and safety. "He blamed himself, didn't he?" Caroline knew this with certainty.
"Yes, he thought he should have been able to protect her."
As twenty years later, Caroline thought, he had tried to protect her. "That's why he came after me in Acquera."
"I suspect that's part of it. He feels responsible for you and Emily. He doesn't trust Lord Sheriton."
"I can understand that. I'm not sure I trust anyone either."
Margaret smiled. "Then perhaps that's a useful lesson. You always trusted too easily."
"No," Caroline said, trying to be honest, "I was always concerned with getting my own way. I didn't pay much attention to other people."
Margaret regarded her for a moment in silence. "That's a remarkable statement," she said at last. "You've changed, Caroline. I never thought you were good for Adam, you know. I'm no longer so sure."
From Margaret, this was genuine praise, but Caroline could not accept it. She knew how badly she had behaved, and she felt an urgent need for confession. Besides, Margaret, of all people, had a right to know. "I've hurt Adam so much in the past," Caroline said. "I used to punish him when he wouldn't do what I wanted. That's part of why I married Jared. Adam grew up and he expected more from me than I was ready to give." Caroline hesitated, wondering how she could explain how a grown-up Adam with grown-up sexual needs had terrified her. But Margaret merely nodded as though she knew exactly what Caroline was talking about.
"He was so intense," Caroline went on, "so jealous and demanding. So I was punishing him for changing the way things had been between us. I was running away from him too. I didn't like the way he was making me feel." Caroline felt the color rise in her face. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I think I do." Margaret's face showed no trace of censure. "I guessed it was something like that."
Caroline hesitated, then knew she had to say it. "I hurt him badly then, and I've hurt him again. Emily is his child."
Margaret drew in a sharp breath. "Emily. That I hadn't guessed. I didn't know you'd seen him at all during those years."
"It was only once. Adam was in London, investigating the ordnance fraud. I learned he was about to accuse Jared, and I went to him—I thought he'd accused Jared because he was angry with me, though I know better now. I went to plead with him to leave Jared alone."
"Then you became pregnant."
"Adam didn't know. Jared did, though he didn't know the name of the father. When Adam found us in Acquera I told him Emily was Jared's daughter. I didn't mean to tell him the truth, ever, but it slipped out somehow when we were on the ship coming back to England."
Margaret's eyes were sympathetic. "Perhaps a part of you wanted him to know."
"Perhaps." Caroline had not thought of this before, but it seemed right. "Adam was furious with me. We'd become good friends again, but now that's all gone. He's furious still. Aunt Margaret, what am I going to do?"
Margaret lifted her hand in a gesture of futility. "I don't know what you will do, Caroline. I don't know what it would be best to do, for you or for Adam or for Emily. I don't think this is a moment for decisions."
Caroline thought of her meeting with Granby, of the boxes of Jared's papers they were to go through that evening, of the threat hanging over Adam and perhaps herself. She was being self-centered, as usual. There were more important things at stake. "You're right," she said, "this is not the time. But Aunt Margaret, thank you for listening to me."
Adam had no other errand than walking off his fury by striding rapidly along the pavement. He was appalled by this new eruption of jealousy. What had he thought would happen when Caroline returned to England? Acquera was an aberration in the fabric of her life. Had he expected her to accompany him on endless forays into Spain, or to follow the army like some poor woman besotted with her husband? Caroline had lost her husband. That was behind her. She had to build a new life for herself and Emily, and if Sheriton or someone like him chose to marry her he had no right to object.
Adam stopped abruptly. He had paid no attention to his direction, and now he found himself facing the long entrance to the Foundling Hospital. Memories of Salamanca flooded his brain. They were in damnable straits and this was no time to be thinking of Caroline's marriage. Hell, Sheriton had only taken her driving. Adam cursed himself for a fool and rapidly made his way back to Red Lion Square. He ought to apologize, at least to Margaret. As for Caroline, he would tell her what he had learned that day. That would be apology enough.
He found her going up the stairs, a slender figure in a lavender dress that accentuated her fragility and the curves of her body. Adam felt the anger melt in his throat. "Caro," he said, putting his hand on the banister.
She turned abruptly and ran down the stairs toward him. "Adam, I'm so sorry about your mother. I didn't know. I'd no idea—I hate myself for all the insensitive things I must have said."
Adam tensed. "Aunt Margaret."
"Yes. It was her idea to tell me. I hope you don't mind."
Did he mind? God above, he could still scarcely bear to think about it. But Caroline's face showed nothing but an anguished sympathy. He could not fault her for what Margaret had chosen to do. In a strange way he was glad this barrier of ignorance had dropped between Caroline and himself. Part of him wanted to spill out his hurt. But that was to risk intimacy, and intimacy would only bring the pain he had felt on the Sea Horse.
Then Emily erupted from the back hall, flung her arms about his knees, and informed him that she had baked bread that day and had saved some especially for him.
It was evening, with Emily safely asleep upstairs and the rest of them gathered in the parlor, before Adam was able to talk of his visit to Captain Leighton. "I went to the Ordnance Office today," he told the others.
Caroline looked up. "Did you find him?"
"Eventually." Adam drew up a chair near the fireplace, well removed from Caroline. To be near her was too painful and too dangerous.
Caroline turned to the others. "His name is Leighton. He was the man my husband bribed."
"A captain, an Artillery officer," Adam explained. "He resigned his commission and is living privately."
"I would have thought he'd have gone to prison," Charles said.
"I suppose Lord Anandale saw to it that he didn't. He wanted no more scandal than necessary surrounding his son's name. Still, it was punishment enough for Leighton. His career was ruined, and now no one in Ordnance remembers him at all." Adam grinned. "At least they don't want to talk about him. He's living in Hammersmith. Hawkins and I went looking for him."
"We didn't have his direction," Hawkins said, "so we had to ask a lot of questions."
"Which is why you were so late returning, yes?" Elena gave him a look that was not quite a rep
rimand. "Not that I missed you, of course."
He took her hand and kissed it. "Of course."
"But you did find him," Caroline insisted. "What did he say?"
Adam kicked back a log that had fallen out of the fire. "Not very much. He remembered me, all too well. He denies that anyone but Jared was involved in the bribery. He admitted to knowing Talbot, but only as an officer assigned to Ordnance. However—"
“Yes, Adam, get to the point," Margaret said.
"I'm not sure there is one, save that I'd swear he knows Talbot Rawley better than he claims. Also, he's living very well for a man who's lost his position and his pension. While I was with him, Hawkins was talking with the neighbors. They agree that he seems comfortably off. He bought a house in Hammersmith some five years ago, and no one there has a word to say against him."
Charles frowned. "You think he was paid off."
"It seems likely. His parents died years ago. He's never mentioned a rich relative, and his wife has no money of her own."
"You're very enterprising, Hawkins," Margaret said.
"People like to talk to Hawkins. He seems so harmless." Elena's mockery did not hide her affection.
"Do you think Lord Anandale gave him money?" Charles asked.
Adam gave the matter some thought. "It's hard to say. I can see him intervening to keep his son's name out of a trial, but he'd have no reason to buy Leighton's silence."
"He knows something," Hawkins said.
"Agreed. But we don't know how to beat it out of him."
No one spoke for a while. Then Caroline said, "I have something to report. About Talbot. Sherry—Lord Sheriton—told me. Talbot was responsible for putting contracts in the way of the foundry and the partners paid him for doing it—Jared and Sherry and Talbot's brother Edward. Sherry didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with it. He said that's how things are done."
