The Secret Love of a Gentleman

by Jane Lark

  Again he felt the impact of the fact he’d been secretly living within his uncle’s home, his cousins would have walked within a hundred yards of the door a dozen times a day since they’d returned here. He had never really thought of them. Numerous lies must have been told on his behalf the entire time he’d lain here.

  When he reached the hall, a footman opened the door, and then there were more steps down onto the pavement. The carriage waiting there was his father’s. A man held the door. Rob handed his stick to his father and gripped the sides to help himself hop up the step, his right leg was still too stiff to climb the narrow, steep carriage step.

  Inside he shifted over so his father might sit beside him, and then leaned back against the squabs with a sigh.

  “Put your leg up on the far seat,” his father ordered.

  Rob did so and then gritted his teeth as the carriage jolted into motion and it sent a jolt of pain through his leg. The bone may have set but the tissue about it was still healing.

  His father talked of the family, of things his sisters had been doing, of his younger brothers’ jubilation when they’d returned from school, of Harry’s indifference when he’d come up from college.

  Longing settled low in Rob’s stomach. He was looking forward to seeing them all. It made what had happened to him seem more distant. Yet he was looking forward to seeing Caro most. “Papa, after the Christmas celebrations have passed, do you think John would mind stabling my curricle and horses? I wish to drive. I will have more freedom then.”

  His father nodded. “You know John will not mind.”

  When they reached John’s, Rob had barely passed through the door when the madness began. Helen and Jenny came running down the stairs. “Robbie!”

  “Now be careful, girls, he has had a fall from his curricle and his leg is injured quite badly, and so you must treat him with care.”

  More hesitantly, Helen wrapped her arms about his neck and she gripped tight and held him hard. “I am so glad to have you home. Everyone has been wondering what you have been about.” She touched a point above his temple. “You have a scar, was that from your fall too?”

  “Yes, I hit my head, as well as hurt my leg.”

  The rest of the children then raced down the stairs in a tide as Rob fought to keep his balance and not appear as though he was in pain.

  “Robbie!” They were all excited.

  “Now let him through.” His father said, “or I will have to send you all away.”

  If climbing downstairs had been hard, climbing back up a flight was triply so, and it seemed to take an age.

  Once he’d prevailed and reached the top, he stopped, breathing heavily and looked along the hall to see Harry standing beside John. They were watching him with eyes that asked questions Rob did not care to answer.

  “You cannot have been racing your curricle, I know,” Harry stated.

  “I was not, the road was icy.”

  “Did you turn it over?” John asked. “Have you lost your horses? Is it damaged?”

  “No, both the curricle and the horses are fine, it was only myself that was damaged. I lost my seat.”

  “And the horses did not bolt…” Harry queried.

  “I do not remember. I was unconscious by that point. Now if I might reach the drawing room, John, I would be very grateful for a chair.”

  The children chattered as they followed him, walking at the snail’s pace he set. His father walked beside them all with a smile hovering on his lips.

  Yes, Rob felt good now. His life was beginning anew.

  Even when his extended family called to take dinner at John’s, Rob did not feel any lower in spirits.

  He did not eat with the family in the dining room, but was served his alone in the drawing room so he might rest his leg up on a stool. His cousin Henry came in with Harry, before the women had even risen from the table, and teased him over his stick, saying that his limp made him appear a dozen years older.

  When his other first-born cousins returned with the men, Henry proudly told them all Rob was taking over his father’s property, on a lease. He made it sound demeaning, but Rob thought of all he hoped to achieve and did not care. He was certain it was something he would enjoy and it would give him an income and that was all that mattered. He did not feel inferior, he felt better than his cousins, because he aimed to achieve far more than them. When he fulfilled his political aims and helped those less fortunate, then any pride he felt would have foundation and be a worthy thing, not shallow, as theirs was.

  Chapter 36

  Two weeks after the Christmas celebrations had passed, wrapped up in his warmest coat and wearing a new scarlet scarf one of his sisters had made for him for Christmas, Rob drove away from Pembroke House in his curricle. It was nearly four months since he’d seen Caro.

  His heart beat steadily. He’d been driving his curricle a short distance every day to get his right hand used to the straps again, and he’d been walking out daily, too, to encourage his leg to heal. But he had not gone anywhere near as far as Drew’s property, and it was a long way to travel when he was still unsure of his capability. Yet when his father had urged him to wait at least another week, Rob’s answer had been. “Have I not waited long enough?”

  The only people who knew he was undertaking the journey were his parents. He’d told no one else. He’d not even written and told Mary of his plans. He wished simply to arrive and discover whatever he did. Largely because he had never been able to find the words he would feel comfortable writing in a letter.

  The pace of his heartbeat rose as he turned the curricle on to Drew’s drive, remembering when he’d done so in the summer, excited about the opportunities he hoped for, and eager to spend a carefree summer here. That summer had left him bruised and battered, both inside and out, and yet he would not change a moment of it.

  The ground was frozen dry, and the sky above him was grey. It had been blue for most of the summer—except during that thunderstorm.

  He prayed as he neared the house that Caro would listen to him; that she still felt something for him.

  When he pulled on the straps and slowed the curricle, two of Drew’s grooms appeared. He stopped before the front door and thanked the men as they gripped the horses’ heads, while he picked up his stick and slid across the seat.

  In a curricle, getting down was harder than getting up, because if he used his good leg on the step then he would be forced to land on his bad leg and it would buckle. So ignoring the step he slid down.

  Pain jolted up from his thigh.

  He leaned on to the stick, taking a breath before he moved.

  The door opened and Mary flew out. “Oh, you rogue!”

  Her arms were about his neck in a moment and then she pressed her lips against his cheek, before gripping him hard again. He grasped her with his free arm, as much to make sure he did not fall as to actually hold her.

  “Hello, stranger,” she said against his ear. “I have written and written and you have not replied. I thought you were angry with us for disappearing so quickly from London. Then I thought you ill.”

  “Ow,” he whispered when she let him go and then firmly held his healing hand.

  “You have a stick. Why? Have you been hurt? Ought I to have been praying for you, not cursing you?”

  “I had an accident in my curricle and fell, but I am nearly healed. You must simply be a little gentle with me for a while.”

  “Why did Papa or Mama not say?”

  “I asked them not to fuss. You know how I hate it.”

  “But you should have told me. I am angry with you again now.”

  He laughed. They walked slowly back into the house, Mary hovering beside him.

  “You were truly injured.”

  “I was, yes. But, as I said, I am getting better now.”

  “Andrew! Andrew!” Mary called through the house, as they stood in the hall. Then she looked at Rob. “I saw you from the nursery. Andrew does not know you are here. Can you
manage the stairs? Andrew!”

  “Yes, but slowly. You will need to be patient with me.” Was Caro still in the nursery? Had she not come down by choice? Did she wish to avoid him?

  “Andrew!” Mary called again as Rob moved to the stairs.

  A footman came to the hall.

  “Where is Lord Framlington, Pip?”

  “In the garden, my lady.”

  “Oh, then would you fetch him? Tell him my brother Rob is here.”

  The footman disappeared as Rob gripped the banister with his good hand and used his stick to support his other leg, then began climbing the stairs, one slow step at a time.

  “We could have taken tea in the library,” Mary apologised.

  “No, I must not avoid activity. If I am to get back to normal, I must keep my leg moving.”

  He wished to ask about Caro, and yet he did not want to appear over-eager. But Mary and Drew had travelled their journey with them in the summer, in a way she would expect him to ask. “Where is Caro? Is she in the nursery with George and Iris?”

  “Oh, no, you do not know. Of course you do not. Have you even noticed that I have stopped writing because you never reply?”

  He shook his head, focusing on the steps, as she walked beside him.

  “Well, I did stop writing, and so you cannot know. Caro has left us. She has moved into the cottage Andrew originally bought for her. Yet she came back to spend Christmas with us, and she seems very happy there.”

  She had been happy. Not missing him, then. Nor regretting her choice.

  “Sit down,” Mary said, when they reached the drawing room. “I will ring for tea and biscuits. I am sure you must need something to warm you, and I have not even offered to take your coat.”

  He let her slip it off, then sat in a chair near the fire. The cold had made his leg ache more. “Where is Caro’s cottage?” he asked, as Mary pulled the rope to ring for a maid.

  “Maidstone. It is about half an hour from here. Oh, George is going to be so happy to see you, and you will not believe it but Iris can already stand, she grips Andrew’s fingers and bobs up and down, bending her knees. But George keeps trying to do it with her, and then forgets she cannot stand unless he lets her hold on.”

  Rob laughed. Yes, he could image George’s attention being drawn by something else and him simply letting go.

  Rob heard footsteps in the hall. Drew. He would have stood if it were not for his leg.

  “Look what the winter breeze has blown in,” Mary stated. “The little brother I had thought lost.”

  Drew smiled broadly as he walked across the room. “Rob.” He held out a hand for Rob to take, and when Rob accepted it, Drew held Rob’s hand with both of his. “I am glad to see you.” Rob winced as Drew jarred his right hand.

  “You have a stick…” Drew stated with a frown, when he let go.

  “I have explained it to Mary. She will tell you.”

  A maid arrived. “Tea, please, and cake and biscuits.”

  Drew went up to the nursery to fetch George then, while Mary filled Rob in on all the news she had not included in her letters, including the fact that Phillip had been calling on Caro.

  Rob’s heart tumbled through his chest and fell to the soles of his boots, and the breath froze within his lungs. Caro had forgotten him.

  Foolishness grasped his shoulders and shook him. He’d travelled here to repeat his offer while she’d been allowing Phillip to court her. Rob was no longer hungry, no matter how sweet the smell of the fresh biscuits.

  When George arrived he squealed at the sight of his favourite uncle and ran across the room, then set his hand on Rob’s broken leg and climbed up. Rob gritted his teeth, preventing himself from shouting as he moved George to his good leg. “Be careful, George.”

  Drew and Mary looked at him with concern. He’d not left enough time to come here. He could not hide the severity of his wounds. He had not accounted for the children. George begged for Rob to play tumble.

  “I cannot, George, I’m sorry. See I have a stick to walk with for a while.” He held it up. Of course George did not understand.

  “Would you go up to the nursery and fetch some of Master George’s wooden animals so he might play with those with his uncle,” Mary asked the maid who had brought the tea. She bobbed a curtsey and left them.

  “Here.” Mary stood and crossed the room to pick up two biscuits. She gave one to George to avoid a tantrum. Then she gave one to Iris, who was sitting on Drew’s lap.

  “You must see her stand,” Drew stated, putting her down on her feet. With one hand gripping his, the other holding the biscuit, she balanced on unsteady legs.

  “That is very clever, Iris.” Rob smiled, despite the turmoil inside him. How could he not love his niece and nephew?

  He squeezed George. “Perhaps next time I see you I will be well enough to tumble you.”

  George nodded as he took another bite from his biscuit.

  In the summer Rob had come mostly to see the children. Perhaps he’d lost Caro, but he could not cut the children. He would come back sometime, in the future, when his emotional wounds were healed, but not soon. Now he wished to go to Yorkshire, to the property he’d rented, and get as far away from Caro and the fool she’d made of him as he could.

  He played with George, for a while, and told Drew about the property he’d rented. He hoped Caro would hear of it. He wished her to believe he had not been pining for her. Then he said his goodbyes as soon as he was able.

  “You will come back soon, won’t you, and write?” Mary said when he said his last goodbye in the downstairs hall.

  He nodded, knowing he would not come back soon. He would not feel comfortable here, in case Caro called. “I will be up in Yorkshire for a while, getting the estate set up.”

  She nodded, her eyes saying she was truly concerned for him. He brushed her cheek. “I shall be fine.”

  She nodded again, tears glinting in her eyes. “I wish you had written and told me you’d been hurt,” she whispered. “At least then I might have understood your lack of contact.”

  “I’m sorry if I scared you, but Papa told you I was well.”

  “Yes, but now I know he was lying.”

  Rob smiled gently, then turned to shake Drew’s hand. Iris was on his arm and George had wrapped his arms about his papa’s leg, bemoaning the fact his uncle must go.

  “Caro would have wished to see you.”

  Rob took a breath, but did not know what to say. If she was letting Phillip court her, then any desire she would have to see him could not be very strong, and he he’d no desire to see her if he’d already become nothing to her.

  Mary hugged him one last time before he went back out into the cold.

  He climbed up into his curricle, then slotted his stick beneath the seat and pretended it did not exist.

  ~

  When Rob reached John’s, he left his curricle to John’s grooms and told Finch not to tell anyone he’d returned. Then he hobbled upstairs to his room.

  It was dusk outside, and gloomy. Without candles the grey light suited his mood, so he left the room unlit.

  He struggled to strip off his outer coat, and then his morning coat too, tossing both garments onto an empty chair. Then he sat in another, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bowed, pressing his hands to his face. He’d never felt so despondent in his life. If this was what loving someone did to a person, he wanted no part of it. He wished to forget.

  God, he wanted to weep, but it was not really in him to do so. He’d never been the sort for tears; he was the sort for solutions. Tears were tools his brothers and sisters had used to gain his parents’ attention, never him. Yet there was no solution to this. Nothing to be done. But live on.

  He sat in the chair as the room became darker, dusk turning to night.

  A light tap struck the door.

  “Rob, I heard you return, it is nearly dinner. Will you come down or would you like to talk up here?”

  Damn. His fath
er. “I do not really feel like talking, Papa, or eating. I am tired.” Rob’s voice was gravelly.

  “May I come in, son, just for a moment?”

  “If you wish.” Rob straightened in his seat, as the door opened. He did not rise. His leg was too painful.

  “Shall I light a candle?”

  “No.”

  “Fancy getting foxed?” his father walked about the chair so Rob could see him and lifted the decanter he gripped by the neck in one hand, while his other held up two glasses.

  Rob’s lips lifted in a weary smile. “Surely, if it is dinner time, you ought to be preparing.”

  “I think your mother will excuse me, in the circumstances.”

  His father set one glass down on the arm of Rob’s chair and filled it. Then he poured another for himself and sat down beside Rob.

  “I got foxed the night your mother refused me. Very drunk,” he laughed at the memory. “Then she arrived in the early hours of the morning, when I was four sheets to the wind. She had changed her mind. She wanted me to run off with her and fetch John. I had not known I could sober up so fast.”

  Rob smiled at him and sipped the liquor. It slid down his throat as heat, and culled some of the pain in his leg, but not the pain in his heart. “Is this supposed to do the trick, then? Is this supposed to conjure her up? It will not work for me. It is really over. Yet I suppose it is better. This way I can get on with my life as I intended, without distraction.”

  His father’s dark eyebrows lifted. He was cast only in black and white as they sat in the moonlight. “I take it she refused you again?”

  “I did not even ask. She is walking out with Phillip. Mary said Phillip has been calling on her and she has left Drew’s home and now lives alone, in a cottage in Maidstone. I have heard what I needed to hear. Her answer was truly no, and I am sitting here allowing my heart to break in peace. I did not wish to annoy you with it.”

  His father smiled and leaned forward to grip Rob’s forearm for a moment. When his hand slid away he said, “What will you do?”