Endless Time

by Frances Burke

‘Thank you. I will not question you any further. And I’ll leave you to your meeting. But I really have to ask – are you a pirate?’

  He laughed. ‘Non, madame. I am a sailor of fortune, a restless spirit that will not be tied down. But I do not prey upon others.’

  ‘I have it! You are a smuggler. You bring contraband across from France, and no doubt carry people back and forth.’

  An ugly look wiped the good humor from his face, and he took a step forward. Suddenly he was no longer the Gallic ruffler, but a formidable man.

  Charles said sharply, ‘Lafitte! Remember your place. Her Ladyship will not betray you. She knows how to hold her tongue.’

  ‘I sincerely trust that you are right.’ There was no doubting the menace in his tone.

  Karen judged it prudent for her to retire. ‘Goodnight, gentlemen. I shall see you at breakfast, Charles.’

  It was difficult to sleep after her small adventure, but finally she did, undisturbed by frightening dreams of Antony in danger, or worse.

  *

  Amanda had brought with her the entire contents of the Chelsea studio, and Karen set up her work in a well-lit second floor room at the end of the east wing. Beyond the far wall lay the ruined tower.

  She had mixed feelings about this, but decided that she should be sensible and put aside the past. Her memory of life as Karen Courtney grew more shadowy in contrast with the rich fulfillment of the present. Chloe was, in every way, her own child. She felt the bond between them strengthening daily, as the little girl blossomed in the aura of contentment permeating the Manor.

  Lord Edward doted on his grandchild, and it soon became evident that Caro and he had found common ground. Delighted to be asked to sit for her, he had himself wheeled to the studio every morning. On the rare occasion when the light was not good enough he stayed to chat, often enough on the subject most dear to them both, Antony.

  Amanda left for London a few days later, and two days afterward Antony returned.

  Persuaded by Karen, he took his father into his confidence, and dinner that night was a lively affair as the two men rapidly renewed their old ties. Lord Edward, clearly delighted with his son’s new-found happiness, swelled with pride in his exploits and could not hear enough of them. Karen watched indulgently, encouraging the old man to lead the conversation. The wine glasses were filled and refilled.

  Antony smiled at his wife. ‘You would like Sweden. The people may appear stiff and cold, like their buildings in the heart of winter, but they are actually very hospitable. They have such a wilderness of forests, lakes and streams; and in the summertime the fields of flowers should be seen.’

  ‘Perhaps one day I shall accompany you there, when the war is ended.’

  ‘I fear that day will be long coming.’ Lord Edward took up his glass and sipped the port that, despite Karen’s presence, had been brought to table as soon as the final course had been cleared. It would appear that tonight she had been granted honorary membership of the male sex, she thought with a hidden smile.

  As Lord Edward spoke, she looked over at Antony and shook her head slightly. Any explanation of her very odd circumstances to a man like his father would be unwise. He was a pragmatist, a dealer in real values, someone who believed in what he could touch and see. He’d never credit her story; and she would not risk losing his regard.

  Charles said, with elaborate casualness, ‘’Tis my belief that another four or five years may pass before Bonaparte meets his fate. Wellesley is an able man. Perhaps we shall live to be grateful to him.’

  ‘Wellesley? I knew him before he was Viceroy in India. Is he not occupying the post of Foreign Secretary?’ Lord Edward brought out his snuff box and laid it on the table. ‘He is known to be an excellent administrator, but as for defeating Bonaparte, he’ll never do it through the channels of diplomacy.’ He offered the pretty gold-trellised box to Charles, who seemed overcome at the honor.

  Gingerly taking a pinch between finger and thumb, he laid it on the side of his other hand and carried it to his nostrils. He paused before sniffing.

  ‘I was referring to the Marquis’ brother, Viscount Wellington, leading our army in the Peninsula.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The hero of Talavera. He does not impress me. The man is forever withdrawing instead of carrying the war to the enemy.’ He frowned as Charles gave a gargantuan sneeze into his handkerchief.

  Karen opened her mouth, then closed it on the hasty words that would have revealed foreknowledge of events. But she could not let the great commander go undefended.

  ‘Wellington drove the French out of Portugal; and Massena’s troops outnumbered him almost four to one. He has never yet been defeated.’

  Her father-in-law’s eyebrows rose. ‘You are well informed, my dear.’

  ‘I am interested enough to follow the war bulletins, particularly now that Antony is so involved.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Can you tell us about your latest mission, or must it remain a secret?’

  He lifted his shoulders. ‘I must not speak of some matters. But I can say that Bernadotte appears to be giving ear to Britain’s blandishments. He actually fell into a fury and dismissed the French Ambassador last week. And it is a fact that he has for some time been intriguing with certain traitorous French ministers. I am hopeful of the outcome of our negotiations.’

  Charles sounded a mournful note. ‘He is still ruler of a small and not particularly important country – strategically important, I grant you – but without influence. After all, the Tsar is technically in alliance with Bonaparte, and he is the powerful one.’

  ‘Yet Alexander grows weary of his French ally, and wary of him. He is in communication with Bernadotte. In fact, I myself have a finger in that pie.’ Antony paused to look at his father, whose fingers had slipped from the stem of his wine glass. ‘Sir, I fear we have wearied you.’

  With an effort, Lord Edward held himself erect. ‘By no means. I have enjoyed the discussion. Although I confess that I am unused to such late hours.’ He turned to Karen. ‘If you will excuse me, my dear, I will bid you goodnight.’

  ‘Of course.’ On an impulse, Karen rose and went to him, bending to kiss the wrinkled forehead. ‘Goodnight, sir.’

  Wilkins was summoned, and the Earl was escorted to the door by Antony.

  Karen felt that Charles’ attempts at conversation tonight lacked his usual aplomb. He seemed dismal, and she wondered whether Amanda had given him his dismissal before she left for London. Yet, surely she’d have said something to Karen. Lost in her worry; over Amanda’s affairs, she was alerted to a change of topic when Lafitte’s name was mentioned. Soon Charles was relating her adventure in the estate office when a smuggler came to call.

  Fortunately, Antony seemed amused. ‘Lafitte need not concern you, my love. He is totally loyal to me, although not necessarily to any particular nation. Money might be his god, but his word is his bond.’

  ‘I’m glad of that. I was afraid I had done some harm. Does he help you leave the country secretly?’

  ‘He does. His ship berths in various hidden coves along the coast; but our contact is his sister, who lives out near Seven Rock Point.’ He grinned. ‘You may trust Lafitte with your life, but not with your honor, you understand?’

  ‘I shall keep it in mind, my lord.’ They both laughed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Antony ordered champagne brought to Karen’s boudoir, an elegant chamber, its walls washed in palest blue and ivory, and furnished with restraint. The Chinese rug was a particular favourite with her, as were the pale-wooded chests and the cream brocade chaise beneath the window. As a setting for the vivid Caroline it could not be bettered, although she’d had no hand in decorating any part of the Manor. Jenny was mistress here, the last woman to be chatelaine.

  The thought made Karen uncomfortable. Or maybe it was a new shyness in her husband’s presence. The week spent with him before he’d gone way should have made his familiar. In some ways it had. But their argument, bitter and devastating to her,
and his perilous absence, had changed him. There were many facets to this man, and so far she’d discovered only a few.

  Then there was the embarrassment of her own new-found sensuality. She’d never suspected its existence. If she could be so abysmally ignorant of her own nature, what hope was there of understanding Antony? She did not doubt her love for him, but she hadn’t yet come to terms with the effect he had on her. And she was afraid to give herself wholly, to surrender her cherished independence, for fear of being let down again.

  Antony had removed his evening clothes and donned a magnificent padded dressing gown, frogged and quilted in gold thread upon green. He looked very much at home in her room, lying back on her chaise longue and watching her through lazy-lidded eyes.

  Her own gown was a chaste satin, enclosing her from neck to toe, and yet she felt exposed. She moved to the table and poured two glasses of champagne, saying with bravado, ‘A toast to your safe homecoming, Antony.’ She drained the goblet and poured another.

  Antony rose and took up his own glass. It seemed to her that he towered over her more than usual, and certainly she distrusted his expression that seemed to hide secret laughter.

  What did he have to be amused about? She recalled the patronizing way he’d treated her enquiries; the way he’d ridden off without explanation. She said, abruptly, ‘What did you do with Sybilla and Basil?’

  ‘I bundled Sybilla out the door and informed them both that their days of sponging were over. They may apply to their parents for assistance if they wish, but I will not continue to support persons who plot to injure my wife.’

  ‘Is that all you did?’ She was suspicious of such a mild reaction. There had been murder in his eyes when Charles told him of the plot.

  He drank his wine and replaced the glass on the table, watching her move in agitation from one part of the room to the other. She could not seem to settle. Gently he took her arm as she passed by and led her to the chaise, seating himself beside her.

  ‘Did you think that I might call Basil out? Or even arrange for the two of them to suffer the fate they planned for you?’ The teasing note left his voice and it hardened. ‘They deserve far heavier punishment; but I cannot risk the scandal. Your name will not be bandied about while I have the power to prevent it.’

  ‘I see.’ The name again. Always he was concerned with the name, with preserving his precious heritage.

  She looked away from his searching gaze and thought that she had never felt less amorous. She loved him, yes, but she didn’t want him to touch her while every inch of her skin felt bristly with disappointment. All the difficulties and sadness she’d suffered in the past months rose up to choke her. She felt she’d had enough to bear. And now the man she loved seemed remote, no longer the kindred soul whose loving empathy had reconciled her to her lot.

  ‘What are you thinking, Caro?’ He waited while she struggled to steady her voice. ‘Well, my love?’

  ‘I… You’ll think I’m a fool.’

  ‘I could never think such a thing. Look at me, Caro.’ He turned her gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. ‘What is troubling you, my heart?’

  ‘You! It’s you troubling me. I’m in love with a man I know and don’t know. You and Jenny had this wonderful relationship which you remember and tack on to me, expecting me to feel the same. I mean… I know I was Jenny, but I don’t remember what it was like. I don’t feel it, here.’ She hit her chest with a fist. The desperately inadequate words couldn’t begin to describe how she felt. How could she expect him to understand? Tears of frustration swam in her eyes, blurring his face. The old, terrible feeling of aloneness swept through her. What was she doing here? She’d been mad to think she’d ever fit into this strange way of life, with a stranger who could make her heart turn over but had not the smallest understanding of the woman, Karen Courtney.

  ‘I understand more than you might think.’ His eyes held hers, but he did not touch her. His smile had gone, and something in his face made her wonder whether he had ever been young and carefree. ‘We are two of a kind, Caro, both lonely creatures in search of someone to care about us. I believed my search had ended when I found Jenny, only to lose her. As you say, I see many of her lovely attributes in you, and I cannot help but revere them. But ‘tis you I love, not a past memory – you, Caro, with your vital beauty, your intelligence and courage, your empathy with those in misfortune. Everything about you is precious to me, including the occasional prickliness and temper. I see many things that are not, and never could be Jenny. But Jenny belongs to the past. You are the present. You have given me back a reason to love life. You are my life.’

  She sat very still, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, feeling his emotional outpouring as a tingle of awareness through her body. Something that had lain sleeping for a lifetime stirred – something so foreign to her that she had no terms of reference to describe it. It had sweetness and a poignancy that hurt her. It had no name.

  In his striving to make her understand, Antony gripped her shoulders with hands that trembled, drawing her close. When he kissed her, her rigidity collapsed. She slumped against him, glad to be held and supported. His mouth was kind and undemanding, giving her the opportunity to draw back. When she did so, he sighed and picked up her hands, looking down at them as he made his plea.

  ‘I know very well what your life has been these past months. I have seen you grapple with the unfamiliar, the distasteful. Your pain has so often been mine. You have been victimized by the restraints of our society, forced to play a role you dislike, burdened with fears and misunderstandings and grief. I wonder that you have retained your balance under such a load. And ‘tis my everlasting regret that you were left to combat these things alone for so long. I did not realize… I could not believe that what I felt for you was indeed love. I resisted. I fought my own desires, hourly and daily, telling myself that you were the old Caroline, that you were false and devious and would trample my poor battered heart, if given the opportunity. But I could not withstand you.’ His composure cracked. ‘In the name of God, Caro, do not turn from me now. I could not bear it. You are all that I want in a life companion. I need you, so much.’ Dragging her hands to his mouth he covered them with kisses, burning with the despair he didn’t attempt to hide.

  ‘You need me?’ She couldn’t keep the doubt from her voice. No one had ever needed her, save Adele. No man had ever said she was so necessary to his happiness. Could she believe him?

  He raised his face, and she almost cried out. ‘Don’t! I can’t bear you to look like that. I love you, truly and deeply, my darling. Oh Antony.’ Wrenching her hands free, she flung herself at him, burying her face in his neck so that she would not have to see his naked craving. No man should have to live with such a hunger in his heart.

  The urge to comfort him gave her the words she needed. She said, unsteadily, ‘It’s been hard for us both. Maybe we needed to tell each other how we felt. Our reunion has been too sudden for complete understanding between us. If, as you say, you don’t see me as Jenny, then we are really two strangers, powerfully attracted and thrown into intimacy almost against our will.’ His pulse quickened under her cheek and she felt his arms tighten in response. She looked up. ‘Forgive me, Antony. I was thinking only of myself.’

  He gave her a little shake, then slid his hands beneath her hair to cup her head inches from his own. ‘I, to forgive you! Oh, my dear one.’

  ‘Then we’ll forgive each other. We start afresh from this moment.’

  His lips were on hers, this time demanding a response. Then the satin robe fell from her shoulders and she stood revealed in her sheer bedgown, her glorious hair cascading down in a river of amber. She welcomed his gaze, glad that he found her lovely, wanting him to claim her. For a heartbeat they faced one another on the brink of their great commitment, the rare moment stretching out to bridge the gulf of time and experience that divided them.

  Then she was held fast against him, feeling the leap of passion as it speared thr
ough her body, melting it to a flux that blended and bonded with his. He lifted and carried her into the bedroom. She would not release her hold, not even when he threw off his clothes and hers, tumbling with her into the depths of down mattress. Mindless with her need, she closed her eyes and rode the waves of sensation that billowed and rose ever higher, until reaching a final crescendo of exquisite pain. She heard his shout at the moment of her own release, then together they dropped back into a gentle trough of exhaustion, limbs entwined, their breath mingling – unable to bear any kind of separation.

  Sated, drifting, Karen felt her mind blaze with sudden understanding. Up until this moment her whole life had been subject to her great weakness, the need for love. The desperate search that had led her into so much unhappiness was over; and in the revealing light she saw what she might have been, far more clearly than in the night of revelation at the village inn. That had been a vague groping, an almost grasping of possibilities. Now she knew it all. The giving and receiving of genuine, soul-deep love had made her whole.

  She heard, but shut out, a small voice that warned of humankind’s deepest superstition – the jealousy of the gods, the need to pay for happiness in equal measure. It was a myth, after all. Things would be perfect from now on.

  Turning her lips to Antony’s ear she whispered, ‘“Love is many things. From day to day, by simply being, it enhances life.” Now I know what it means – that love is not merely sensation, no matter how enchanting. It’s as prosaic as a master’s tool of trade, and just as important.’ She sat up, so that she could look into his face. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? Love is a part of everything we say or do. It makes noble the dullest task when performed in a loving way, blessing the one who performs it and the one who benefits. Where did you find those words, Antony?’

  His face had changed. Looking down on him, relaxed against the pillow, she saw that lines of strain had been smoothed away as if by a hand brushed across sand. She saw a youthful eagerness and impetuosity in eyes that had for too long been weary with the weight of memory. The mouth that had so recently seemed shaped especially for her pleasure now smiled in delight.