by Hale Deborah
The past few days had made Bennett question a few of his cherished assumptions—something that did not sit well with him. For most of their son’s life, he had prided himself on being the more constant, devoted parent. But lately, in the absence of Mrs McGregor’s capable management, it was Caroline who had demonstrated far more patience with Wyn’s complaints and caprices.
More than once lately, she’d seemed to be near her wits’ end. Yet somehow she had managed to hold her temper and soldier on. Bennett had never guessed his wife possessed such tenacity. It made him wonder if perhaps he had misjudged her in other ways, too. He needed to get back to London before he started to question everything about his marriage and his life.
Ushering her through Wyn’s bedroom door, he pulled it partly closed behind them and lowered his voice for Caroline’s ears alone. ‘You aren’t obliged to give him everything he asks for, you know.’
Bennett meant the advice kindly. He did not want her to wear herself out catering to their son’s every whim.
Caroline pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her brow. She looked thoroughly harried, yet still far too attractive. ‘I’m only trying to make him as comfortable and happy as possible under the circumstances. It is the least I can do to make up for bringing him here.’
As they descended the stairs together, Bennett recalled their last headlong rush down those narrow steps. He’d almost trampled over her to get to their son. ‘You must understand, it isn’t good for children to have their own way all the time. They need firm limits and a stable routine they can depend upon. It helps them feel safe.’
Caroline sniffed. ‘The Gospel According to Saint McGregor, I presume?’
Her quip made his lips arch in a reluctant smile. ‘The woman knows her job. And you must admit she has done well raising our son. I know he’s become a bit of a handful now that he’s getting better, but he is a fine little fellow.’
They paused in the parlour, which looked like an entirely different room than the one Bennett had first entered upon his return to Tresco. While Caroline had been busy tending Wyn these past few days, he had hired a crew of local women to come in and clean the house. He could not help but contrast their experience and efficiency with Caroline’s awkward attempt to wash the floor. Still, she had made the effort, for Wyn’s sake. That counted for a great deal in Bennett’s opinion.
He owed it to Caroline to put the house in good order for her—well cleaned, provisioned and staffed. Then perhaps he would not feel so guilty about leaving her here when the time came for him and Wyn to return to London.
In response to his comment about Mrs McGregor, Caroline gave a grudging nod. ‘How did you become such an expert on child-rearing, pray?’
‘I don’t claim to be an expert. But I was a child myself, once, hard as that may be for you to imagine. I remember what it was like. The orderly, predictable routine of nursery and school gave me something to hold on to after the rest of my world turned upside down.’ He wanted his son to have that, too.
‘But did you have to be so harsh with Wyn just now? I’m afraid he’ll think you’re angry with him.’
‘Harsh? Nonsense. I simply enforced a perfectly reasonable request. It’s about time someone did.’ He wished he’d put down his foot with Caroline long ago about her endless social engagements, before the situation got so badly out of hand. He was not about to make the same mistake with their son, overindulging the boy just because he’d been ill.
‘You don’t have to lash out with your hand or your voice to hurt him.’ Caroline rubbed her temples. ‘Your cold, disapproving silence is quite enough.’
The charge hit Bennett like an iron fist in a kid glove. ‘Wyn knows I care about him. There is more to life than doing whatever you fancy regardless of the consequences. The sooner he learns that, the less trouble he will have in the years ahead.’
He braced for their exchange to spiral into yet another argument that would go round and round, striking sparks of hostility without leading anywhere.
Before Caroline could reply, he raised his hand. ‘There is no use trying to talk about this, is there? You have your opinion and I have mine. Like everything else about us, they are as opposite as they can be.’
The gathering antagonism he’d sensed building between them seemed to diffuse a little. He beckoned her towards the kitchen, ‘Now, come have a cup of tea and something to eat while you have the chance.’
She followed. ‘I don’t want Wyn growing up spoiled and selfish either. I know you care about him. I only wish I could be certain he knows it, too. I hate to think of him growing up feeling he can never meet your expectations…never be good enough to secure your affection.’
Her words slipped past Bennett’s defences to strike deep. He sensed Caroline wasn’t only talking about their son.
The appetising aromas of fresh-baked bread and mutton stew enveloped them as they entered the kitchen. The cook was stirring batter in a bowl while Parker attended to some sewing and Albert buffed a pair of Bennett’s boots.
Caroline sank on to the nearest chair. ‘Tea, if you please, Mrs Jenkins, and a slice of that bread. It smells wonderful.’
The cook set down her bowl and lifted the kettle off the hob. She glanced towards Bennett. ‘For you as well, my lord?’
‘No…thank you.’ He couldn’t stay there and try to make banal conversation in front of the servants. Not with all the unsettling thoughts their private exchange had sparked swirling in his mind. ‘I’ve been cooped up inside too long. I need to get some fresh air.’
Hardly breaking stride, he marched to the kitchen door and let himself out.
‘I want to go and see more of the island.’ Wyn thrust out his lower lip in a mutinous scowl. ‘I’m not ill any more. I’m tired of staying in bed day after day!’
The child hadn’t gone to sleep, in spite of his father’s stern warning. Now he was more fractious than ever.
Reminding herself, yet again, that she had brought him here and she was trying to be a better mother, Caroline inhaled a deep breath and summoned up as much patience as she could muster. Unfortunately, it had never been one of her most abundant virtues.
‘But, dearest, even if you were quite well, it is cool and windy out today. Mrs Hicks says you need at least another day’s rest before you’re strong enough to be up and about.’
‘I don’t like her!’ The sharp pitch of Wyn’s voice reminded Caroline too much of his endless infant squalls. ‘She made that awful tea I had to drink. Now she won’t let me go out and play. Papa went out. Where did he go?’
‘I don’t know,’ Caroline admitted. ‘He didn’t say.’
She’d been so relieved to see Bennett go, she hadn’t asked where he was headed. Now that their son was out of danger, the differences they’d temporarily put aside had come crowding back between them, stronger than ever.
It did not help matters that she was more aware than ever of her husband’s intense, commanding presence. In these confined quarters, they often brushed past one another in the narrow corridors. At the table, their hands grazed briefly when reaching for the salt. Every fleeting touch stirred her in ways she did not want to be stirred by him.
‘Can I go out somewhere tomorrow?’ Wyn’s petulant demand set his mother’s teeth on edge.
Tempted as she was to appease him with such an assurance, she did not want to make promises she couldn’t keep. ‘It will depend on the weather and how you are feeling. I have no control over either of those.’
She seemed to have far too little control over anything any more, least of all her own feelings. If Wyn had to stay in bed another day, she would be shut in with him, trying to keep him entertained with stories and games that were rapidly losing their charm. But if the child was well enough to be up and about, Bennett might decide their son was sufficiently recovered to travel.
‘Would you like me to tell you another story?’ she asked in a tone of forced brightness.
‘I’m tired of stories.’ Th
e child heaved a great sigh and flopped about in the bed. ‘I can see the Blockhouse from my window. I wish I could go there.’
Caroline strove to tamp down her mounting frustration. ‘What about a game instead?’
Wyn shook his head. ‘Can I have something to eat? Not all that broth and jelly and porridge, but proper food. Cake!’
The child’s behaviour was making Caroline understand Bennett’s point about not catering to his every whim. It seemed as if the harder she tried to please him, the more demanding he became. On the other hand, when she tried to impose some limits, Wyn grew cross and fretful. She did not want him upset with her during the last few days they might spend together.
As usual, she could not seem to do anything right. ‘What about “Henny Penny”?’
‘That’s a baby story!’
Caroline threw up her hands. ‘Then what do you want to do?’
‘Eat cake! I know Cook made some. I can smell it.’
Caroline’s heart fell. She had certainly walked into that hole. ‘Wyn, you know Papa would not want you spoiling your appetite for supper.’
‘I don’t care!’ The child thumped his mattress. ‘Papa isn’t here. He’s off having fun and he didn’t take me!’
‘Wyn, please…’ This whole day had brought back wretched memories of when her son was an infant and nothing she could do would make him stop crying. Just like today, everything she’d tried only seemed to make it worse.
The child began kicking his feet under the covers. ‘I don’t like it here! I miss Greggy. I want to go home!’
Some barrier inside Caroline gave way. ‘You’ll go home soon enough. Though if you behave like this I doubt your precious Mrs McGregor will want you back!’
‘You don’t care about me and neither does Papa!’ Wyn burst into tears. ‘I want Greggy!’
Before Caroline could say anything more, Wyn pulled the covers over his head, wailing as if his small heart would break.
The tears she’d been fighting back all day began to fall as the frustration and failure of a lifetime overwhelmed her. What had made her think that just because Wyn was older she could redeem her past mistakes and be a proper mother to him at last?
Once again her efforts had ended in disaster. In the years to come, whenever Wyn thought of her it would be of a selfish monster who had dragged him away from his safe, comfortable nursery and made him miserable. By then, he would also know she had mired the family in scandal with her reckless indiscretion. No doubt he would believe she had betrayed his father with other men.
Scraping the heels of her hands up her cheeks, Caroline tried to push the tears back into her eyes, but they would not go. Instead, more poured out, hot and salty, stinging her eyes and leaking through her fingers. Some ran down into her nose and the back of her throat, choking her.
She turned and ran from the room…straight into Bennett’s arms. Part of her longed to subside into the strength of his embrace, but she knew she would find no comfort there because she did not deserve it. She had fallen far short of everything he wanted in a wife.
‘What’s happened?’ Her husband’s question sounded harsh and accusing.
Caroline struggled even harder to stifle her flood of tears and gusting sobs. She might as well have tried to hold back an Atlantic gale. ‘Wyn…h-hates me! He thinks I do not l-love him. I n-never should…have brought him here. G-go ahead and take him away. H-he is better off…without me!’
‘Calm down, now. You don’t mean that.’
‘I d-do mean it! And you know it’s t-true.’ She struggled to escape Bennett’s surprisingly gentle hold. If she yielded to it, who could tell where it might lead? ‘You t-told me what Mrs Hicks said about not upsetting him. What if he comes d-down with brain fever?’
‘He’ll be fine, I’m certain.’ In spite of his reassuring words, her husband didn’t sound certain. He sounded worried, as he had every reason to be.
‘I’ve f-failed!’ she cried. ‘As a wife and a daughter and a m-mother!’
Her outburst succeeded in loosening his grip more than all her squirming. Caroline seized her chance to spin away from Bennett and bolt through the door to her bedchamber. Closing it firmly behind her, she pressed her back against it. Though she knew her slender weight could not keep her husband out if he was determined to force his way in, pride demanded she put up at least a token resistance if he did.
But he did not even try to follow her. After a long silence, she heard his footsteps move toward their son’s room, then the muted murmur of voices.
Her legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor in a heap of wretched misery.
Chapter Eight
His wife’s distraught outburst stirred up the stew of conflicting thoughts and feelings already seething inside Bennett.
Cool reason and practicality assured him it might be for the best if he took Caroline at her word and whisked Wyn back to London the moment he was able to travel. That way he would not have to worry about her making a scene when it came time for them to leave. And it was less likely the child would pine for her, as he’d begun to fear might happen.
But his sense of justice resisted. During the past several days, he had watched his wife trying to be the best possible mother to their son. It did not seem right that such a brave attempt should end like this.
As Caroline’s door slammed shut between them, he was tempted to go after her, but he did not want to risk being alone with her again when emotions were running high. Ignoring one kiss had been awkward enough. Ignoring a second would be impossible.
Besides, Wyn might need him more right now, though he was far from certain of his ability to comfort and reassure his young son.
‘Wyn?’ He peered into the child’s room. ‘Your mother is very upset about something. Can you tell me what happened?’
For an instant, he saw no sign of the boy. Then he caught the sound of a faint sniffle coming from a lump beneath the bedclothes.
Bennett forced himself towards the bed and sank on to the edge of it. ‘Son, I’m not angry with you, but I need to know.’
‘I’m sorry, Papa.’ Wyn’s muffled voice emerged from under the covers. ‘I was naughty. I shouted at Mama. I said I didn’t like it here and I want to go home to Greggy.’
Surely that could not have upset Caroline so much. ‘Was there anything else?’
Wyn’s head slowly emerged from his cocoon. He responded to his father’s question with a guilty whisper. ‘I said she didn’t love me because she wouldn’t let me eat cake or go outside.’
‘There now…’ Gingerly, Bennett reached out and ran his hand over his son’s head. It felt rather warm, perhaps from being buried under the covers.
Would the gesture help Wyn realise his father loved him, though he might not approve his behaviour? ‘That wasn’t a very kind thing to say to your mama, was it? Especially after she’s tried so hard to keep you amused these past few days. I’m afraid you hurt her feelings’
‘I’m sorry,’ the child squeaked.
Stroking his son’s hair seemed to help, so Bennett continued in spite of how self-conscious it made him feel. ‘Luckily for you, your mother loves you no matter what you say or do. Though I still believe you owe her an apology.’
Wyn gave a silent nod.
Bennett seized upon something practical he could do for his son. ‘First let me fetch you something to eat. Not cake, but it might make you feel better all the same.’
After he had settled Wyn for the night, Bennett made another trip to the kitchen and returned upstairs bearing a bowl of Mrs Jenkins’s mutton stew.
He tapped softly on Caroline’s door, not wanting to wake her if she’d managed to fall asleep. She needed rest even more than food.
But a muted answer to his knock emerged from the room. ‘Go away and let me be.’
Balancing the bowl in one hand, Bennett opened the door with the other and entered. The room was swathed in shadows, the only sounds intermittent drops of rain splattering against th
e window and the constant low murmur of the sea. ‘You need to eat…and sleep. I don’t believe you’ve done enough of either lately. It’s no wonder you’re worn out and easily upset.’
‘I told you to go away.’ Caroline rolled over in bed, turning her back on him. ‘Haven’t I done you enough harm? I’ll have all the opportunity in the world to eat and sleep after you’re gone.’
Bennett did not want to think about the harm she’d done him for fear it would reignite his anger. Instead, he found himself wondering what harm he might have done her. ‘How am I supposed to persuade Wyn to eat if you won’t? Come now, try a little of Mrs Jenkins’s stew. The local mutton has a rather sweet flavour.’
‘I’m not hungry! Why do you suddenly care whether I eat or not?’
What could he tell her when he did not know the answer to that question himself? ‘Wyn doesn’t seem to be falling ill again, though he is sorry for what he said to you. He wanted to come and apologize, but I thought that might not be the best thing for either of you tonight.’
When he received no reply, Bennett continued, ‘He didn’t mean it, you know. He’s just frustrated at being shut in when there is so much he wants to see and do on the island.’
Caroline heaved a sigh and turned back towards him. ‘I’m not angry at Wyn. I’m disgusted with myself for losing patience and not knowing how to handle him. Just like when he was a baby, everything I do is wrong. I was a fool to think I could be a good mother just because I want to.’
‘What do you mean, when Wyn was a baby?’ Bennett eased himself down on the edge of her bed.
‘You don’t remember?’ A convulsive sound burst from her, something between a bitter chuckle and a sob of despair. ‘I only wish I could forget. But what is the use in dredging all that up again? There is nothing I can do to change it now. It will only make me feel worse to dwell on it.’
Had he ever truly taken the time to listen to her or get to know her in more than a superficial way? Bennett’s conscience demanded an accounting. What would he have found out if he had? Something that might have prevented that humiliating scene at Almack’s, perhaps? Something that might have kept their marriage from crumbling?
