Tokens of Love

by Mary Balogh

  She lingered until she had heard him enter the breakfast room, but then, just as she was about to follow him down the stairs, she heard a door open and close behind her. Turning, she saw that it was Jerry.

  She smiled, and held out the posy. “I think you left this at the wrong door, sir.”

  He came toward her, looking blankly at the posy. “I, er, don’t understand, Miss Cromwell.”

  Her smiled faltered. “Didn’t you leave this posy? For Chloe?”

  “I certainly left a posy for Chloe, Miss Cromwell, but it was of red rosebuds from the hothouse.”

  Marianne felt a little foolish. “Oh. Forgive me, I… I thought that in the darkness you had mistaken my door for Chloe’s.”

  He smiled. “I fear not, Miss Cromwell.”

  “But… who could have left it?”

  “Perhaps it is from Piers?” he suggested tentatively.

  “I think not,” she replied shortly.

  “Things have not improved between you?”

  “The very opposite, but please do not be concerned, for we will still honor our promise to you and Chloe. At least…”

  “Yes?”

  “I will honor it, Sir Jeremy, but I cannot speak for Piers. I saw him a moment ago, and he cut me.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “So, you see, it is most unlikely that he left the posy for me.”

  “Was he the first man you’ve seen this morning, Miss Cromwell?” he asked suddenly.

  “Yes. Why?” She colored then. “That is one valentine tradition which is going to be proved hopelessly wrong, Sir Jeremy.”

  He said nothing more, but offered her his arm, and together they proceeded to the breakfast room, where the others were already enjoying the hot valentine buns.

  Chloe looked delightful in dusty-pink dimity, and she had pinned several of Jerry’s valentine rosebuds in her honey-colored hair. She was aglow with happiness, for the card Marianne had made for her had been very well received indeed.

  Marianne sat at the table, and selected a bun from the large dish in the middle. She had greeted everyone in general as she entered, but Piers had not responded.

  Now he did, however. “Good morning, Marianne,” he said, catching her unwilling eye across the table.

  “Good morning, Piers.”

  His glance flickered to the posy of snowdrops and violets, which she had placed by her plate, and he said nothing more.

  Mr. Pendeven’s appetite was as hearty as ever as he buttered another bun. “What plans are there for today? This morning I must stay in because the Newnham children will come for their traditional valentine pennies. Oh, and I must give guineas to the servants, of course.” He ate the bun, and then licked his fingers. “Hopefully, the Aurora should be launched on this afternoon’s tide, should you all wish to come.”

  Chloe’s face brightened still more. “Oh, yes, please. I love seeing launches.”

  “Very well. We will all drive together. What will you do this morning when I am philanthropically occupied?”

  Chloe shrugged. “I really don’t know.”

  Piers glanced up. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate the chance to ride. Perhaps we could go down to the riverbank?”

  Chloe clapped her hands. “Yes! We can go to the summerhouse. I know, we’ll take a light luncheon there. The servants will take it down, and we will simply enjoy it when we’ve ridden sufficiently. I know it isn’t exactly picnic weather, but the summerhouse faces south.” Without further ado, she got up from her chair and hurried out to issue instructions.

  Mr. Pendeven smiled fondly as he sat back in his chair. “There are occasions when she so reminds me of my dear Elizabeth. Especially today,” he murmured.

  Elizabeth. The name reminded Marianne of a certain belle de nuit. She glanced briefly toward Piers, and found his gaze already upon her. Quickly she returned her attention to her breakfast.

  Unaware of the undercurrents, Mr. Pendeven mused about the past. “She was quite the most beautiful creature I have even known, my sweet Elizabeth. I proposed to her on Saint Valentine’s Day. Ah, one can always recall magical days, can one not? And for me, it was that particular Saint Valentine’s Day.”

  Marianne could bear it no longer. Putting her hand up to her hair and deliberately dislodging several pins, she gave a cry of quick dismay. “Oh, dear, my hair… Forgive me, sirs, but I simply have to return to my room.”

  As with Chloe a few moments before, the three men had no time to rise politely from their seats as she hurried from the room.

  There were tears in her eyes as she hastened up the staircase, and when she reached her chamber, she flung herself on the bed and surrendered to the sobs that racked her.

  ———

  Mr. Pendeven was distributing the valentine pennies to the children as Marianne, Piers, Chloe, and Jerry went riding later that morning. The sun was still shining, and the horses’ hooves drummed pleasantly on the grass as the four riders made their way down toward the river.

  Marianne rode a pretty cream mare. She wore a kingfisher-blue riding habit, with a black beaver hat from which trailed a long white gauze scarf. Chloe was in lilac, with a plumed gray hat, and she rode a strawberry roan. The two gentlemen were in the pine-green riding coats which were almost de rigueur in fashionable circles, and their mounts were large, restive thoroughbreds which fought the bit all the time and thus gave them both good cause to show off their equestrian skills.

  Behind them the dark green of the forest rose against the skyline, and before them lay the Severn. The tide was low now, and the sandbanks were dotted with wild fowl. Across the river, the tower of Arlingham church rose above the fertile meadows, and its bells were pealing.

  Chloe gave a delighted laugh, and urged her mount forward. “A wedding! It must be a wedding!” she cried.

  Marianne smiled at her excitement, and then reined in for a moment to glance back at Severn Park, so serene on the hillside behind. How beautiful it was here. A matchless place.

  Her gaze wandered over the forest and then descended slowly toward the fields that lay to the south. The first lambs gamboled in the sun. To the north, Newnham looked almost Mediterranean upon its hill, and the river was so still that the little town was reflected on the surface.

  A stream made its way down the hillside along the border of the woods, and it was lined with pussy willow and hazel catkins. Brimstone butterflies fluttered by the branches, and in the woods the birdsong seemed to echo almost shrilly.

  The summerhouse was built on a level area of the riverbank that was above the surrounding land, and was therefore safe from all but the very highest of the spring tides. It was a small wooden building, designed to resemble a Greek temple, and it faced downstream, where the estuary widened as it swept around another curve toward the sea. The tide, when it came, would be so swift that it was visible, and at this time of the year especially it would form a wave known as a bore. From low water to high water did not take long, and the level of the river rose sharply as the Severn flowed back upon itself. When the tide was fully in, the water became stationary, and then began to flow downstream again. The speed and noise of the incoming tide frequently alarmed the cattle in the meadows, so that they fled away from the riverbank to escape the rushing water. Marianne knew of all this, but she had no idea that before the day was out the Severn bore was going to change her life forever.

  They all reined in by the summerhouse, and as Jerry lifted Chloe down, she pointed to little circles of toadstools in the grass. “Look! Fairy rings! Be careful no one treads on them, or we will all be enchanted.”

  Piers dismounted, and came to assist Marianne. He held his arms up, and she slid lightly down from the saddle. He gripped her for a moment, his fingers tight upon her waist.

  “Marianne, I left the posy, and it was no mistake,” he said softly, and then he released her. Turning, he quickly took the reins of both horses, and led them away to be tethered to a bush with the others.

  She stared after
him, but there was no chance to say anything more because Chloe came to take her hand and hurry her toward the summerhouse.

  Without thinking, Marianne stepped through one of the fairy rings.

  Chloe pretended to be dismayed. “Oh, no! You’re enchanted now, Marianne. The fairies have you in their power.” Then she giggled and ushered Marianne into the summerhouse, where a commendable feast had been laid out earlier by the servants from the house.

  The view down the estuary was astonishing, and it was hard to remember that this was February, for the horizon shimmered in the sunshine. Chloe and Jerry were so rapt in each other that they didn’t notice the awkwardness between their two companions. Piers lounged back on the summerhouse seat, a thoughtful look in his gray eyes as he stared at the estuary. Marianne sat nearby, her eyes downcast as she thought about the posy. Why had he left it? Why-bother with a valentine when they had parted so bitterly the night before? He was soon to be betrothed to his mysterious lady, and so whatever his motives now, they could not be honorable. It was just another example of his shabbiness. And yet still she loved him with all her heart…

  After an hour, which Chloe and Jerry found delightful, and the others simply endured, they all remounted and rode back up through the park toward the house. Soon it would be time to change for the drive to Newnham and the launch of the Aurora. The tide was about to change, and the new trow would be launched at high water.

  The thought of being confined in a carriage with Piers and the others was suddenly not very appealing to Marianne, and on top of that she realized that she’d left her riding crop in the summerhouse. It was a valuable present given to her by her father, and had a beautifully engraved silver handle. She had almost reached the house, but nothing would do but that she return to the summerhouse.

  Chloe was dismayed. “But there isn’t time, Marianne, not if we are to go with Father to Newnham.”

  “I… I don’t think I will go now, Chloe. I have a headache, and when I’ve retrieved my riding crop, I’ll go to my room to lie down for a while. Please extend my regrets to your father, won’t you?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Marianne turned her horse around, and urged it back down toward the river.

  When she reached the summerhouse she quickly dismounted, meaning merely to collect the riding crop and then return to the house, but as she left the horse to go to the little building, she again walked through the fairy ring.

  Stopping, she crouched down to touch the tiny toadstools. Enchanted? Was she? Yes, and had been these two years or more, ever since she’d met Sir Piers Sutherland. He’d beguiled her, cast fairy glamour into her eyes, and she’d been under his spell ever since. He was right. Even if she married Brandon, she would still belong to her first love.

  Straightening, she went into the summerhouse, where the remnants of the luncheon party were still littered on the table. Piers’ wineglass stood where he had left it, and almost unconsciously she put her fingertip on the rim, running it slowly around, knowing that she must touch where his lips had been.

  She closed her eyes then. She was lost beyond redemption in this passion. She had tried in vain to cast him out of her heart, but still he was there. It would be wrong to marry Brandon. Totally wrong. She would never be able to forget Piers, and Brandon deserved better than that. Her father would be disappointed, but she knew what she must do. The Forrester match had to be rejected a second and final time.

  The riding crop lay upon the bench, but as she bent to pick it up, a new sound filled the air, a rushing, bubbling, hissing sound totally alien to the quiet that had just preceded.

  She went to the entrance, staring downstream toward the noise. She could see a frothing line of white stretching across the river. It was the bore. The cows in the meadows took fright as it passed, kicking up their heels as they fled from the bank, and flocks of waterfowl rose with a clamor as the incoming tide swept swiftly over the shining sand.

  Marianne watched as the foaming wave raced noisily upstream toward her. She wasn’t in danger, and knew she could remain where she was as the bore flashed and gurgled against the rocks right by her. Too late she remembered that she hadn’t tethered her horse, and even as she turned to snatch at its reins, the animal threw up its head in alarm and galloped back up the park toward the haven of its stables.

  Marianne gazed after it in dismay. Now she would have to walk back to the house. For the moment, however, there was the spectacle of the tide to watch. It was exhilarating to be so close to the churning, boiling water. The bore itself had already passed upstream, and now the swelling tide surged along behind it. Driftwood bobbed and spun, and the birds wheeled excitedly. There was a new freshness in the air, an almost invigorating tang from the open sea.

  She was fascinated, and suddenly felt as if the wretchedness of the past had been swept away and a new future had come to her. It was a foolish feeling, but so strong that she could not ignore it. What did it augur?

  She was so absorbed that she gave no thought to the alarm that would be raised when her riderless horse returned to the stables.

  ———

  Mr. Pendeven’s carriage was at the door in readiness for the short drive to Newnham, and everyone had just emerged from the house when they heard the galloping hooves.

  Piers turned toward the sound, and his eyes sharpened uneasily as he recognized the cream mare. “That’s Marianne’s horse,” he breathed.

  Chloe gave a gasp of dismay. “Oh, no…”

  Without another word, Piers ran to the stables, where he shouted to a groom to bring him a mount immediately. He waited only long enough for the man to put a bridle on the bay thoroughbred that was brought out, and then vaulted onto its bare back and kicked his heels to fling the startled horse out of the yard and down the park toward the summerhouse far below.

  Behind him the others stood by the carriage. They had by now perceived Marianne standing unharmed on the bank, but they made no attempt to call any reassurance to Piers as he dashed to her rescue.

  Chloe gave a sleek, satisfied smile. “This could not have gone better had I planned it,” she murmured, shading her eyes against the sun as she watched Piers.

  Jerry and her father exchanged long-suffering glances, and then her father sighed. “Chloe, my dear, it must be about the only thing you haven’t planned recently. I’ve never known so much engineering and fibbing.”

  “In a good cause,” she pointed out in a slightly injured tone.

  “I trust so.”

  She was arch then. “Look at the way he’s rushing to save her,” she said, pointing toward Piers. “Need I say more? Of course it’s in a good cause.”

  ———

  Marianne was now seated in the summerhouse, watching the river as it rushed noisily inland. She didn’t hear Piers’ horse approaching, and the first she knew of his presence was when she heard him calling her.

  “Marianne! Marianne, can you hear me?”

  Startled, she left the summerhouse and saw him as he reined the horse in and then looked anxiously around for her. His face was taut and worried as he controlled his nervous, capering mount.

  “Piers?” She hurried toward him.

  Relief lightened his brow, and he slipped from the horse. “Thank God! When your horse returned…”

  Her face fell guiltily. “I… I didn’t think. The tide came in and frightened the horse while I was watching the river. Forgive me.”

  “I’ll forgive anything, provided you are all right,” he replied quietly.

  She looked up into his eyes. “I’m quite all right, Piers. I’m sorry to have alarmed you.”

  “This bank may be safe enough, but at the same time it is a very hazardous place. One false step, and…” He didn’t finish, but looked toward the surging river. His glance flickered briefly back to her. “It wouldn’t do for some mishap to befall you on the eve of your betrothal to Forrester, would it?”

  “There isn’t going to be a betrothal,” she replied.

  He turne
d to face her. “There isn’t?”

  “No. It would be a terrible mistake. I know that Brandon thinks he loves me, but I’m sure it isn’t the sort of love which should be between a man and his wife. We have known each other for so long that it is sibling love we feel. I know that I do, and in my heart I think Brandon does as well.”

  Piers was silent for a moment. “Are you sure about this? I mean, you were on the point of marrying him when I first met you, and he stayed around throughout our betrothal. Now he’s still here, and on the point of marrying you again.”

  “He’s my dearest friend, after Chloe.”

  “Marianne, I’m glad you’re not marrying him.”

  She looked at him. “What of your own match? Why won’t you tell me who she is?”

  “Well, perhaps I may do now, for a serious obstacle has just been removed.”

  “Has it?”

  He gave the wryest of smiles. “Marianne, why do you imagine I left that posy at your door this morning?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Have you no notion at all?” He drew a long breath, and looked at the river. “No doubt you credited me with further shabby motives?”

  She went a little pink. “I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Which can only mean that you didn’t regard it as an honorable or even loving gesture.”

  “Loving? Piers, when we parted last night, things were very acrimonious between us.”

  “Were they? It seems to me that the flame was enduring very sweetly,” he said softly.

  The pink intensified in her cheeks. “Perhaps dinner had been a little too convivial.”

  “Oh, yes. It would have to be something like that, would it not?” he murmured almost mockingly. “Come now, Marianne, why do you not simply admit that whatever else lies between us, the attraction has never died.”

  Her eyes flew to his face. “Please don’t, Piers—”

  “What will you do? Begin your walk back to the house? Marianne, I will simply walk with you, and continue with this discomfiting conversation. When I kissed you last night, you responded. Am I right?”