“Exactly! To the point of insanity,” Robert crowed.
“She has come back from that,” I countered, “and is improving daily. As much as losing David was devastating, I think she has come to terms with it. Now that she cannot lean on him, she is learning to manage for herself.”
Robert glowered at me, but I stood firm. “Therefore,” I continued, “there is only you to worry about. You who would martyr yourself for your father’s sin.”
“I am not—”
“Oh yes, you are. I have no idea what your reasoning can be—do you think to assuage his guilt by taking it on yourself? Absurd! It will not work. And do you think you are the only soldier who committed dire deeds, who is haunted by nightmare visions? Wars are dark, as mass murder is dark. Who better to understand darkness of the soul than I?” I challenged. “Than someone who has seen war firsthand, someone who knows what it is to kill?
“Someone who shares your secrets,” I added more softly, my gaze fixed to his face, searching for any sign that his stubbornness might be crumbling.
We were sitting in matching wingchairs again, a good blaze warming the room, even though our conversation was sending chills up my spine. Robert turned his head away, studying the glowing fire as if searching for the remnants of the gloriously privileged life he had once been destined to lead. Before Napoleon Bonaparte conquered Europe. Before Robert’s father killed his mother. Before his sister met disaster and a monster roamed the moors.
I waited, stuck in limbo, wondering if I had reached him at last or if we were destined to go on like this forever, the spinster companion and the heir who would never marry.
And then his hand shot out, and with a choked cry I gripped it tight. A pause of nearly a minute as, finger to finger and palm to palm, we silently acknowledged our pledge. Then a sharp tug precipitated me into his lap, the pent-up emotions of the last few weeks resulting in his lips devouring mine, and all was right with the world.
Or so it seemed. But it was December 1814, and we were not yet destined to enjoy the peaceful life we so craved. The war, we soon discovered, was not over. The shock of Napoleon’s escape from Elba and his return to France, gathering an army in his wake, reverberated throughout Europe, England, Scotland, Wales, and down to Moorhead Manor, where Robert and I had barely begun to look to the possibility of a more settled future.
“Nothing will come of it,” Kenrick pronounced. “The French have had enough fighting.”
“Ha!” Robert scoffed. “Napoleon is the Pied Piper—right or wrong, they will flock to him.”
“He’s making enough of a stir that spies are not needed,” I pointed out. “Everyone knows what he is doing!”
“Spies?” Lord Hycliffe rumbled.
Huntley let out a whoop, while Kenrick slapped his knee, exclaiming, “I knew it!”
“Now you’ve done it,” Robert grumbled.
“I beg pardon,” I murmured, keeping my head down.
“That is what you were doing on the Peninsula?” Hycliffe asked, his azure eyes fixed on his elder son.
“Ah . . . yes,” Robert admitted. “And I’ll be needed again. We have to know how many men he can field—how much infantry, how much cavalry, how much artillery. Where they are and when they’ll be ready to fight.”
“And you’ll be off, of course,” I ground out. Not even my years as a daughter of the regiment could make me like it.
And that is when Lord Hycliffe stunned us all. “Exmere,” he said, “on the day you marry this girl, I had planned to sign over Power of Attorney and leave on a lengthy journey. I’ve a mind to make up for the years I’ve spent behind these walls. Italy, Greece, Egypt, perhaps India and the Antipodes.”
Jaws dropped, but Robert and I understood. The past would be easier to endure if the Earl of Hycliffe no longer resided at Moorhead Manor.
“But you can’t go off, sir,” Huntley protested, “when Rob is going back to war.”
“Agreed,” said the earl. “So I will stay until he returns. But after a suitable killing of the fatted calf, I’ll be off. It’s for the best,” he added softly.
Silently, I mouthed, “Amen.”
Fortunately, Napoleon was moving slowly, his exact whereabouts a deep, dark secret, allowing time for Robert and I to be married in a quiet ceremony, our only complaint that Mr. Cecil Aylworth must perform the ceremony. In March Robert rode off to report to whomever spies report to, and we all suffered great unease, which turned to anguish in June as the first reports of disaster in Belgium came drifting in from London. And though news of a great victory came hard on its heels, the report of casualties was so appalling, we could do nothing but pray.
It was the end of June before we heard from Robert, the end of August before he returned home with nothing worse than a scar on his forehead and a limp that would never quite mend. Considering what other families had suffered, we allowed ourselves to hope that God had seen fit to show compassion, raising the darkness that had beset Moorhead Manor.
Ten years have passed since we lived those difficult times, and writing of those long-ago events has brought pain and sorrow, as well as bittersweet recollections of the beginning days of love. Lord Hycliffe did indeed become a world-traveler, meeting his end only four years ago in a storm in the South China Sea. Huntley married his Jocelyn, and Vanessa stunned us all by accepting Lord Norvelle, irrevocably allying our family to the Durrants for generations to come. Fortunately, Lady Daphne married a wealthy and titled gentleman who indulged her in cutting a swath through the ton, leaving her little time to give her family connections more than a passing thought.
As for Robert and me, we have a hopeful family of four, none of whom show any sign of violence beyond the fisticuffs boys inevitably get up to and occasional displays of temper on the part of our girls, which I can only attribute to my own rather determined disposition. Do we remember those dark days? Of course we do, but only as I remember the deaths of my parents and the death of someone I still cannot help but think of as a friend. Life hurts, but life goes on. And if we are fortunate, love and joy temper tragedy and sorrow, leaving us to move forward into a more serene future.
And, I hasten to say, I have been most fortunate indeed.
~ * ~
1Historical Note
As I neared the end of The Mists of Moorhead Manor, I realized I could not project a Happily Ever After ending for a hero and heroine with military backgrounds on the eve of Napoleon’s escape from Elba. Particularly when June 2015 is the 200th anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. Therefore, it was necessary to postpone the happy outcome to this romance for more than six months, something the casual reader might find objectionable, but which I hope historical purists will appreciate.
About the Author:
Believing variety is the spice of life, I also write Romantic Suspense, Mystery, Steampunk, and Futuristic. (Please see the list below.)
The Golden Beach (GB) books are not a classic series. Some have connected characters; others, only a connected setting, a very real Florida Gulfcoast resort and retirement community whose name has been changed because the residents would like to keep its uniqueness a deep, dark secret.
I am always delighted to hear from my readers. I can be contacted at [email protected]. My website is http://www.blairbancroft.com/. My blog: http://mosaicmoments.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @blairbancroft
Blair’s books currently online:
Regency Gothics
The Mists of Moorhead Manor
Brides of Falconfell
The Regency Warrior Series (in order)
The Sometime Bride
Tarleton’s Wife
O’Rourke’s Heiress
Rogue’s Destiny
Other Regencies & Historicals
Lady of the Lock
The Courtesan’s Letters
The Temporary Earl
The Harem Bride
A Season for Love
A Gamble on Love
Lady Silence
The Last Surprise (Christmas novella)
Mistletoe Moment (Christmas novella)
Airborne - The Hanover Restoration
The Captive Heiress (medieval)
Regency Darkside novellas
Belle*
Cecilia
Holly (late 2014)
Juliana (2015)
*packaged with Cecilia thru 9/20/14
Contemporary Romance
Florida Knight* (GB)
Love At Your Own Risk
*a story of the SCA
Romantic Suspense & Mystery
Florida Wild
The Art of Evil
Paradise Burning (GB)
Shadowed Paradise (GB)
International Thrillers
Limbo Man
Orange Blossoms & Mayhem (GB)
Mists of Moorhead Manor Page 22
