by Hale Deborah
‘Yes, Papa?’ Wyn lowered his gaze and clung to his mother’s hand.
‘I told you I am not angry with you.’ Bennett strove to moderate his tone so he would not intimidate the child, while still impressing upon him the seriousness of the situation. ‘I must have your word that you will never run away like that again.’
‘Your papa is right, dearest,’ Caroline added her support, somewhat to Bennett’s surprise. ‘We were very worried about you. You could easily have come to much worse harm out there today.’
Wyn gave a contrite nod. ‘I promise. The rain was cold and I was afraid the wind would blow me into the sea.’
‘Why did you go?’ The question seemed to slip out before Caroline could prevent it.
‘I heard you and Papa shouting at each other. You said something about me and I thought it must be my fault you were quarrelling.’
‘No!’ Bennett and Caroline cried in unison.
Bennett cast his wife a look that urged her to reassure the child. Though he had been acclaimed as one of the finest orators in the House of Lords, he was not certain he could explain such a volatile, complicated situation to a young child. He hoped Caroline would be able to find the right words, which eluded him.
Inhaling a deep breath, she smoothed back a tumbled, brown curl from Wyn’s forehead. ‘Your papa and I were not quarreling because of you, dearest. In fact, the one thing we completely agree upon is what a fine boy you are and how much we both love you. Isn’t that true, my lord?’
‘Quite true,’ Bennett replied after a brief hesitation. It made him vastly uneasy, being forced to admit his feelings. But he must prove to her that he was capable of it. ‘We both…care for you more than anything.’
Wyn’s small brow furrowed. ‘Then why were you shouting at each other in that angry way?’
‘Well…’ Caroline struggled to put the complex state of their marriage into simple words. ‘Our love for you is one important thing we share. But apart from that, we are quite different in many ways. We like different things…want different things. Sometimes those differences make us get angry with one another.’
Did Wyn understand what she was trying to say? No doubt the boy was clever enough to recognise some of the more obvious differences between his parents.
But he still did not seem entirely satisfied with her explanation. ‘I never heard you shout at each other before.’
‘That is…true.’ Though her words were for the child’s benefit, Bennett found himself curious to hear what Caroline would say. ‘But often when people are very angry, perhaps because their feelings have been hurt, they don’t talk to each other at all. They may think it will only make things worse. Or they may be too proud to admit anything is wrong. Or they may be afraid their feelings will get out of control. But if they never talk, nothing ever gets settled because one may not know the other is angry. Or they may not understand why.’
Where was all that coming from? Bennett wondered. He had never thought about their marriage in that way before. And yet, more than a little of what his wife said rang true. He had never really tried talking to her about the widening gulf between them because he’d been certain it would do no good…and because he had not wanted to provoke a row like the one they’d had this afternoon. Yet now that it was over, he had to admit the festering bitterness within him had eased.
Wyn pondered his mother’s explanation and seemed to grasp enough of it to be persuaded he was not the cause of their hostility. With that worry relieved, the child relaxed and yielded to his exhaustion.
He gave a wide yawn, then asked in a drowsy murmur, ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you did talk but without shouting?’
The words had scarcely left his mouth before his eyelids drooped and closed.
Caroline caressed the child’s cheek. ‘I suppose it would.’ She did not seem fully aware that she was speaking aloud. ‘But I’m afraid it isn’t always so easy.’
That was certainly true, Bennett acknowledged privately. There was so much about himself and his past that he’d never told her. He’d convinced himself she would not be interested. Yet some of the comments she’d made today suggested otherwise. Not only had she wanted to know him better, she seemed to resent his secrecy about his past. Could that be why she had turned to other men without a qualm—because they were no more strangers to her than her own husband?
It no longer mattered why she’d been unfaithful, reason insisted, even if his behaviour had contributed to it. After that scandalous scene at Almack’s, Caroline had given him no choice but to divorce her.
Wouldn’t it be better if they talked without shouting? Her young son’s innocent but wise advice echoed in Caroline’s mind as she and Bennett worked to prepare the other two bedrooms to be occupied that night. As they went about their tasks in pensive, guarded silence, the storm continued to rage outside. Were they both afraid to open their mouths in case they unleashed another angry tempest that had been brewing inside them for years?
A familiar flicker of resentment had flared within her when Bennett had made her explain to their son why they’d been arguing so heatedly. She’d been about to shoot him a hostile glare when she sensed an air about him unlike any she’d noticed before. It was as if the stout shield behind which he usually hid had slipped for a moment, allowing her to glimpse the kind of feelings he usually took care to hide. Those emotions—guilt, regret and a certain helplessness—were an almost perfect mirror of their son’s.
It made her wonder if Bennett hadn’t intended to foist that difficult task upon her as punishment. What if, for the first time in their marriage, he’d been seeking her help, trusting that she would be able to find the right words to reach their son?
If that were true, then Bennett had more confidence in her abilities than she. To her astonishment, that confidence had not been misplaced. The words that poured out of her seemed to come from some other source, yet intuition assured her they were true. Both she and Bennett had their faults, but neither was nearly as bad as the other had come to believe.
Those thoughts ran through Caroline’s mind as she swept her bedroom floor, when suddenly Bennett appeared. ‘Could I trouble you for some help making my bed? I’m having a devil of a time squeezing in the side against the wall.’
‘Of course.’ She strove to ignore the treacherous skip her heart gave when he spoke to her.
They spread and tucked the bottom sheet in silence.
Then, as they draped the top sheet, Bennett spoke. ‘I wanted to…thank you for finding Wyn this afternoon. I was very anxious about him.’
He refused to meet her gaze, keeping his stubbornly fixed on the task at hand.
‘I had to find him,’ she muttered fiercely. ‘It was my fault he was lost out there in that cold, driving rain. Shrieking like a mad woman—no wonder the poor child was frightened out of his wits.’
‘That hardly makes it all your fault,’ Bennett protested gruffly. ‘It takes two to quarrel and I may have said some things that were better left unsaid.’
Until a few minutes ago, Bennett had been quick to think the worst of her and blame her for things she’d never done. Now, when she’d freely admitted her responsibility for something so serious, he refused to condemn her as she’d expected and deserved. Did he not realise their argument was only part of her wrongdoing?
‘I’m not sure those things were better left unsaid,’ Caroline mused. ‘We were open and truthful with one another about how we feel. Perhaps if we’d done that sooner…’
As they unfolded a blanket, his hand brushed against hers. The brief contact sent a jolt of disturbing energy crackling between them.
Caroline’s fingers still tingled from it hours later as she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Partly it was the storm that kept her awake. Rain pounded against the windows like the fists of an angry giant, determined to shatter the thick panes of glass. The wind sounded like the creature’s shrieks and howls of frustration at being denied entrance. Any minute she feared it might
rip the roof off!
Yet the storm did not alarm her as much as the prospect of Bennett sailing off with their son tomorrow, leaving her on this remote island with nothing but her regrets to keep her company…
The final thing that plagued her was the vexing awareness of Bennett sleeping so nearby. Though his bedchamber at Sterling House was only a few doors down from hers, it had seemed like a vast distance. Here, he felt so much closer. During the past several hours, they had talked more than in the whole previous month at least.
‘Greggy? Greggy!’ Wyn’s terrified cries pierced the storm’s tumult.
Caroline sprang from her bed. A shiver quaked through her when her bare feet made contact with the cold floor. The night air chilled her to the bone. She longed to burrow back under the bedclothes, but she could not resist the urgent summons of her son’s cries, even if her name was not the one that sprang to his lips.
Wrenching open her door, she stumbled out into the pitch-dark hallway and directly into her husband. The unexpected contact made her gasp and jump back. Even through their nightclothes, his flesh felt so hot she wondered if it would sear her skin where they touched. She had a desperate urge to plaster herself against him, simply to soak up his warmth.
Wyn called out again. ‘Mama? Papa?’
Their son’s cry propelled them down the hall, jostling against one another in the darkness. Caroline reached for the latch of Wyn’s door, only to feel Bennett’s large, powerful hand close over hers. Immediately he wrenched it back again. When the narrow door swung open, they both rushed forwards, mashing their bodies together as they squeezed into the room.
Her husband’s nearness waged an assault on Caroline’s senses. The swift rasp of his breath seemed to drown out every other sound. His hot, vital scent invaded her nostrils, plunging deep into her lungs. The unyielding pressure of his lean-muscled frame against her made the blood race through her veins.
‘What’s wrong, son? Did you fall out of bed and hurt yourself?’ Bennett’s question made Caroline feel sick with shame for letting those sensations distract her from her child.
Groping towards the bed, she sank on to it and reached for Wyn.
‘I dreamt a giant was chasing me!’ Her son nestled into her embrace. ‘When I woke up I could still hear it roaring.’
‘That was only a dream,’ said Bennett. ‘And nothing that happens in dreams can hurt you.’
‘They can frighten you, though.’ Caroline ran her hand over Wyn’s hair. Much as she relished this opportunity to cuddle and comfort him, a stab of guilt pierced her to think how often he might have taken refuge in his nurse’s arms while she was off at one of her social engagements. ‘I thought the storm sounded like a giant, too.’
‘You did?’ Wyn sniffled. ‘Were you frightened?’
‘A little,’ she admitted. ‘Would you like me to lie down with you until you get back to sleep? Perhaps I could tell you a story to take our minds off the storm.’
Wyn’s soft cheek and silky hair brushed against her upper arm as he nodded. ‘Yes, please, Mama.’
Caroline was only too glad to slip under the covers.
She almost forgot Bennett was still in the room until he spoke. ‘If you’re not hurt, then, Wyn, I will return to my bed. Goodnight.’
A fierce gust of wind rattled the window sashes.
The child gave a terrified yelp and clung to Caroline. ‘Please, Papa, can you lie down with us too?’
‘It is only the wind,’ Bennett tried to reassure the child. ‘It sounds louder because this house is so much smaller than you’re used to.’
Caroline sensed his reluctance to get in bed with her, even with their son between them. Though she did not relish the prospect any more than he, she wished he would make an effort to understand how storms and nightmares might frighten a small child, even if they posed no real danger. Had he never been afraid of anything when he was a little boy? It was difficult to imagine her husband as anything but the strong, self-reliant man she’d always known.
‘Please?’ Wyn repeated. ‘Mama and I won’t feel so frightened if you’re with us, will we, Mama?’
Though she had good reason to fear Bennett’s wrath, Caroline forced herself to say, ‘No, indeed. Even a storm giant would be very foolish to take on your papa. Here, I’ll move to the other side of the bed to make room for him.’
Bennett gave in to their combined entreaties. ‘Just for a little while. There truly is nothing to fear. This house has withstood the pounding of storms for many years.’
As he slid on to the bed, Caroline moved as close to the edge on her side as she dared to avoid having her bare leg brush against his.
‘Is that better, dearest?’ she asked Wyn.
‘Yes, Mama.’ The child snuggled against her. ‘Why do they call these islands silly? I haven’t seen anything comical here at all.’
Was that the sort of place to which he thought she’d been bringing him? Caroline wondered. An island of harlequins, performing monkeys and endless Punch-and-Judy shows? Storm-swept Tresco must have come as a great disappointment.
Before she could answer her son’s question, Bennett’s voice rose out of the darkness, just loud enough to carry over the furor of the storm. ‘Scilly is the name of the islands, but it does not mean comical. The word may come from the old Cornish tongue or a lost language even more ancient. There are those who believe these islands are all that is left of the drowned kingdom of Lyonesse.’
‘How can a whole kingdom drown?’ asked Wyn.
‘By a great flood, I suppose.’ No sooner had Bennett spoken than another powerful gust rattled the house.
‘Like the one in Noah’s Ark?’ Wyn’s voice squeaked with terror. ‘Greggy told me that story. Do you think this storm will make a great flood and wash us away?’
Recalling how tiny these islands were, out in the vast Atlantic, Caroline wondered the same thing.
‘Not a bit of it.’ Bennett’s voice rang with steadfast certainty that banished her fear. Then it softened in a way she’d never heard him speak before. ‘You needn’t fret, Wyn. I am here and I will not let any harm come to you.’
Was it the storm from which Bennett was anxious to protect their son? Caroline wondered. Or was it her?
In the past few hours, she’d begun to realise that he cared for Wyn as more than just his necessary heir. For some reason, he was unable to show those feelings except in tangible, practical ways such as cooking a meal or protecting their son from harm. Worthy and important as those things were, she still believed the child needed more from him.
Bennett had told his son there was no danger of the storm engulfing them in a great flood. Yet, as he squeezed into his old bed with Caroline and Wyn, Bennett felt as if he’d been swept out to sea.
He was not accustomed to sharing a bed. Even in the early days of their marriage, he’d been reluctant to linger with Caroline after they’d taken their pleasure. He always felt so deucedly self-conscious after having been carried away in the throes of passion. Besides, he’d sensed there was something more his bride wanted from him that he’d been unable to provide.
Her earlier accusations still echoed in his thoughts. He might not feel comfortable lavishing their son with the caresses and shallow endearments she bestowed so easily, but he could express his devotion in practical ways. Comforting his son’s fears fell into an awkward middle ground where he did not particularly care to tread, but knew he must.
Who could understand better than he how Wyn must be feeling? When a tempest of scandal had engulfed his family, he’d been cast adrift into a disturbing new world. If he wanted Wyn to be able to turn to him in the difficult days ahead, Bennett knew he must begin laying the groundwork tonight.
‘I’ve seen far worse storms than this on Tresco.’ The words stuck in his throat, for he never liked to speak of his early years. Especially not the happy times he’d spent on this island with his mother. For they had been swept away as completely as lost Lyonesse, until only a few scattere
d, lonely peaks remained.
‘You have?’ Wyn asked in a doubtful tone. ‘When?’
‘When I was your age. I used to come here on holiday. This was once my bed.’
‘Oh.’ Wyn sounded as if he could scarcely believe his father had once been child like him. ‘Did you come with her and your papa?’
That innocent question hurtled out of the darkness at him, an ambush he should have foreseen, but hadn’t. Bennett told himself it was a perfectly natural enquiry and there was no reason why he should not be able to answer. ‘Only my mother. We came every autumn for several years and this one time—’
‘What was your mama like?’
Perhaps it was being back in this house again after so many years, but suddenly Bennett could recall his mother far more vividly than he’d been able to in a great while. Though part of him cherished this clearer memory, another part shrank from it.
‘We’ll talk about her some other time. Now I want to tell you about that storm. Besides the wind and the rain there was lightning and thunder so loud it sounded as if the heavens were cracking open.’
Bennett paused, hoping Wyn would not raise the subject of his mother again. But it seemed his story had provided an effective diversion. Or perhaps the child grasped his reluctance to talk about it.
‘Were you very frightened?’
Uncertain what answer Wyn was hoping for, Bennett fell back on the truth. ‘Very frightened indeed.’
His mother had held him, crooning endearments, running her hand over his hair. In the middle of violent chaos, she had made him feel secure in her love. Reluctant as Bennett was to admit it, that memory reinforced some things Caroline had said about their son’s needs.
‘But after a while the storm let up and a huge, brilliant rainbow appeared in the sky.’ He continued to talk quietly to the child, telling him about some of the points of interest on the island. The castles that stood guard over the northwest coast. Piper’s Hole, a vast underground cavern that was said to connect with one of the other islands. The smaller islands off shore that were home to great colonies of birds.
