Tempest of the Heart

by Jocelyn Kirk

  “It would be foolish to lie,” I said to my kind friend, “for he can easily learn the truth.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “but you must be absolutely certain of the place and time you last saw Loch. If you waver on the facts, Sparkman will no doubt haunt and harass you to elicit every detail.”

  Mr. Sparkman bowed when he entered the parlor. Georgina seated him and offered refreshments, which he refused. He drew a notebook and pencil from his pocket.

  “Mrs. Stanfield, I have several questions—”

  I interrupted him. “Mr. Sparkman, let me be frank. You may have heard gossip about the relationship between Bartholomew Loch and myself. He was not—I repeat—not my lover. My last sight of him was on April third when he assisted me in my journey to my parents’ home.”

  “Thank you for your frankness, Mrs. Stanfield. Did you have any further contact with Mr. Loch after that date?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Did you at any time attempt to contact him?”

  “No.”

  “So you have no knowledge of his whereabouts; is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “You claim he was not your lover. However, he apparently assisted you in a flight from your husband’s home. Would you care to explain that?”

  Georgina intervened. “Mr. Sparkman, your questions have moved into personal territory. Mrs. Stanfield has no information as to the whereabouts of Mr. Loch.”

  “That is true, Mr. Sparkman. If I knew where he was, I would certainly tell you.”

  “I need to understand the circumstances,” insisted the detective. “The smallest details can become relevant if the gentleman has been harmed in some way.”

  “Harmed! Good heavens! You surely do not suspect me of having harmed Mr. Loch!”

  Sparkman shrugged. “Even if I did, it would not signify. I am simply a private detective, Mrs. Stanfield, not an officer of the law. Mr. Loch’s uncle is paying me to find the man. Whatever state he is in—alive or dead—will not concern me—in a professional sense, that is.”

  Georgina asked, “Do you have any idea where Mr. Loch has gone? Are you working on a theory?”

  Sparkman hesitated, but then he leaned forward and regarded each of us in turn. “I do. Considering all the circumstances, I believe Mr. Loch is dead.”

  “Good heavens!”

  “But why?” Georgina demanded. “Why would you assume such a thing?”

  “Look at the facts,” Sparkman uttered calmly. “Mr. Loch is devoted to his sister and uncle. He would not remain completely out of touch with them for half a year.”

  “When did either of those parties last hear from him?”

  “His sister received a letter shortly before he assisted Mrs. Stanfield in her flight from her husband. In the letter, he expressed confusion and a great deal of lowness. Apparently, he was in love with a woman who would not accept him—forgive me, Mrs. Stanfield, if these details distress you.”

  “No, pray go on.”

  “Apparently, Mr. Loch had an attachment to a Miss Rosamund Quinn. In his letter to his sister, he expressed his intention of renewing his pursuit of her, although he felt it to be nearly hopeless.”

  “And so,” I whispered, thinking aloud, “he must have gone to North Commons Abbey.”

  “Yes, his sister reached the same conclusion.”

  “And yet,” spoke Georgina, “no one saw him there? He was never known to arrive?”

  “Miss Loch, her uncle, and then I myself interviewed everyone in the region of North Commons Abbey. We found no trace of him.”

  I rose. Something was niggling at my mind, a memory just out of reach. But then it came to me.

  I walked to the fireplace and regarded the others. Sparkman rose out of courtesy, but I beckoned him to remain seated. “There is a chance…a slight chance,” I began, “that Bart might have gone to Lyme. He has an old schoolfellow settled there—a Mr. William Ecks.”

  Sparkman stood again. I could see the tension in his air, a cat pursuing a bird.

  “Mrs. Stanfield, would not Mr. Loch’s sister and uncle have known of this friend?”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. Mr. Ecks made an imprudent match, so Bart told me, and lost his place in London society. Bart might have kept his friendship with the man a secret from his uncle and sister out of fear of their censure. Despite Ecks’s imprudence, Bart liked to consult him on various matters. He valued his insights and opinions.”

  “There is logic in this,” cried Georgina. “Mr. Loch may have wished to discuss his pursuit of Rosamund Quinn with his friend.”

  “Yes, it would be characteristic of him.”

  Mr. Sparkman picked up his hat and tucked away his notebook. “Mrs. Stanfield, you have given me an excellent lead. I will take the next coach to Lyme.”

  I hastily drew forth my card. “Mr. Sparkman, do inform me if you learn of Bart’s whereabouts.”

  He bowed and promised to do so. With another bow to Georgina, he made for the door; but then he turned.

  “Be aware, Mrs. Stanfield, if you are sending me on a wild goose pursuit to protect your own interests, I will inform the law of the situation.”

  “My good sir!” cried Georgina.

  Sparkman bowed low in Georgina’s direction, placed his hat on his head, and stepped through the portal.

  For the remainder of the day, we were very busy with the children and our preparations for departure. But in the late afternoon, just as shadows were lengthening and the setting sun was turning the sky to gold, I received an express letter. It came from Lila, and I tore it open quickly, expecting some news, good or bad, about Aleta.

  Dearest Cassie,

  I hope this letter reaches you before you leave Bath. I would want you to receive this news before you return, as I am not certain you will receive it kindly.

  Cassie, I am engaged to be married to Farmer Jesse McCrae. I have spent the past several weeks continually in his company, and it was clear to both of us that our friendly feelings for each other were turning into something more. Last night, he proposed to me right in front of his children! They are quite fond of me, and I hope to be such a fine mother to them and wife to their father that I can keep their good opinion.

  Cassie, I feel very fortunate that life has blessed me in this way. Perhaps I do not deserve such happiness, but I will not throw it away out of a perverse need to punish myself.

  I read to Jesse your last letter about the progress of Percy and Paulie. He was very pleased and commented, “The little devils are turning into angels. We will get them to the farm, my dear, for some play with William and George and a great deal of fattening up.”

  That is his way, Cassie. He sees every circumstance in the best possible light.

  Yesterday in the village, John Carter asked when you were returning. I do not know if you informed him of the children, and so I said nothing about them.

  Jesse’s sons are about the age of Percy and Paulie, and his two daughters are twelve and fourteen. They are both pretty and sweet. I do think you will like them.

  Your loving sister,

  Lila

  A great grin broke out upon my face, and I danced about the room in glee. How amazing that Lila had found joy in such a manner! I read the letter to Georgina, and she danced about also. Paulie ran into the room and begged to jig with us, so we taught her a few simple steps.

  Georgina sank into a chair, laughing. “Mrs. Loch has made a complete reversal, from the demon put on earth to torment you to the loving wife of a gentleman farmer and stepmother to four children! Really, Cassie, is there any reckoning the strangeness of life? One seems constantly amazed.”

  I could do naught but agree, since I had in a few months gone from a despairing harpy trying to throw herself off a cliff to the loving elder sister of two children of whose existence I had not known two months ago. Life was strange, indeed!

  On a cloudy, chilly morning in early November, we bundled Miss Little, the children, and ourselves in
to the landau to begin our journey back to Caemre. Percy and Paulie, having never been outside of Bath, were spellbound by the country lanes along which we traveled. Every horse grazing in a field or pulling a plow was rapturously exclaimed at by Percy, while Paulie was charmed by the cottages with their twining rose brambles, showing a few late blooms.

  Miss Little had brought a variety of books to read to herself or to the children, but when the two urchins fell asleep in the carriage after luncheon, Georgina and I forced her to put aside her studies and learn some drinking songs. Miss Little’s pale, serious face blushed at some of the words, but she joined in with her usual good nature.

  A babe was born to milord and lady

  A boy so very fair blessed her

  Alas, methinks there’s something shady

  The child resembles the gardener.

  Ho ho ho ho, he looks quite like the gardener.

  Miss Little’s hair was pulled back in a tight chignon, but as we rode along singing and laughing, Georgina pulled it out. “A little freedom, if you please, Miss Little!” she laughed as the young woman’s hair fell about her shoulders.

  “Lady Lovell!” cried the governess, “you would have me look a tart!”

  “No, indeed, Miss Little. I would simply set you free. Now get yourself out of that corset you always wear, put your feet up on the seat, and be at your ease.”

  Miss Little glanced at me, and I nodded vigorously at her. Georgina unhooked her, and I held a blanket in place to protect her modesty while she wiggled out of the corset. When she was finally free of it, she could not repress a sigh. “Oh, that is such a relief!”

  “And now,” I proclaimed, “we will call each other by our first names. I am Cassie and you are Deirdre.”

  “And I am Georgina. Let us dispense with Lady Lovell.”

  After that, it was a jolly journey to Caemre. Percy and Paulie were quite well behaved, especially when one considers their previous life. They could sulk and kick and complain like all children, but they were certainly no worse than Aleta and I had been as children at North Commons Abbey.

  In the late afternoon of the third day of travel, the children, Miss Little, and I arrived at Caemre Cottage, and Georgina drove on to her own home. We found a surprise upon entering. Aleta, Lila, John Carter, Jesse McCrae, and all the McCrae children were drinking tea and eating blackberry scones, which, I later learned, had been baked by those intrepid cooks, John and Lila.

  Introductions took place with a great deal of chat and laughter, and we were soon all settled again with tea and scones.

  “Father,” cried young George McCrae, “may William and I go out to play in the garden?”

  “Aye, but mind you stay away from the sea. And take Percy with you, eh?”

  Paulie swallowed the last of her scone by cramming it into her mouth and gulping it down. “I want to go too! Sister, may I?”

  “You may, Paulie, if you sit politely until your milk is finished.”

  The boys hurried outdoors, and Paulie soon scampered after them. I leaned back in my chair and surveyed the group around me. “How lovely to be home.” I sighed.

  “Perhaps,” commented Aleta, “fickle Fate has blessed you. Banishment to Caemre has made you a much happier creature, if my memories of the past do not deceive me.”

  “Indeed, Aleta, I quite agree.”

  After the McCrae family had departed, Lila, Aleta, and Miss Little took the children upstairs to read to them and tuck them into bed. John and I sat silently together, staring at the fire and enjoying the peaceful evening.

  I turned to him and without knowing what I was about to do, whispered, “I love you, John.”

  “I love you too,” he replied. He took my hand and kissed it, and the old familiar desire swept over me. I shivered.

  Gently, I removed my hand. “Our situation remains the same, dearest.”

  “Yes, so it does. I had better go before I break my promise to keep my distance.”

  “Before you leave, let me make you aware that I will be traveling again.”

  “Oh?”

  “I am going to North Commons Abbey to see my family.

  “You will not travel alone, I hope.”

  “No, I will ask Lila to go with me. And Aleta will have Miss Little as a companion. Will you call upon them to ensure all is well?”

  “Certainly. Will you take the children?”

  “No, indeed. I cannot risk my father’s threatening to take them from me. I fully intend he will never have them.”

  “And so you plan to rear them?”

  “Yes,” I replied, “and if that changes your intentions for our unlikely but possible marriage, I understand.”

  “It does change them. I am happier than before! We may have children of our own, my darling, but Percy and Paulie will be our first.”

  I clutched my hands together in my lap to prevent reaching out to him. “You are a very, very good man,” I whispered. He did not reply but instead rose and kissed me chastely on the brow. My eyes met his, and I caressed his cheek as he bent over me.

  He sighed. “I had better go because my mind is rapidly forgetting my promise to you.”

  “Be patient, my darling. If I am ever free, I will repay you in full for your self-command.”

  The next morning brought three letters, and they contained such strange news that I had to send the children to Miss Little so I could read in peace and absorb the contents. The first was from my brother Frederick.

  Dearest Cassie,

  I am breaking my father’s dictum and writing to you. This estrangement has gone on far too long.

  Yesterday, Rosamund and I became engaged to be married. You will wonder at this, since the last time you saw me I was determined to continue my pursuit of Bettina Loch. After you and Lila left for the west, I journeyed to London and confronted her. I told her that I was just as much a second son and clergyman as ever, but I hoped she would reconsider her prejudice against the cloth. I begged her to become my wife and share with me in the Lord’s work.

  I wish I could find words to describe the expression on her face! She looked horror-struck. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth formed a thin line. I gasped at the hate in her voice as she said these words. “The Lord’s work! You expect me to live in some muddy village and go about preaching to the poor folks, who would all be far better off if they were not forced to tithe?”

  Out of the blue and by the grace of God, my eyes were opened. Here was a woman so selfish she could not leave her life in London to do good works with the man she had previously professed to love! I understood then that she did not love me; she loved no one but herself and her rogue of a brother.

  I immediately returned to North Commons, where I knew I could find a woman who truly did love me and was willing to share my quiet life as a clergyman. Unfortunately, I was chilled on the journey and developed the fever that has plagued me in the past. But now I am fully recovered and happier than I have been in many years. Rosamund received my declaration and proposal exactly as I could have wished, with her usual modesty and gratitude.

  Our wedding will take place next week. Rosamund sends her love to you and Lila.

  Your loving brother,

  Frederick

  Lila had entered the room, and I handed the letter to her with a smile. While she read it, I ripped open the next; it was from my husband.

  Cassandra,

  I have made a decision regarding our marriage. Unlike you, I take my vows seriously and will not apply for a divorce. You will return to my house immediately and reassume your duties as a wife. I will forgive you for your past treachery, and with time, we might recover our footing in society.

  Charles Stanfield

  I gasped and quickly passed the letter to Lila with a shaking hand.

  “This does not surprise me,” said she.

  “What on earth am I to do?” I pleaded. “How can I return to him?”

  Lila paced about the room, but then spoke. “Cassie, we must consult w
ith John and Lady Lovell. Between them, I feel certain something will be struck out. If we all put our heads together, perhaps—”

  “I must write to him!” I declared, barely hearing my sister’s words. “I must write and beseech him to release me.”

  “Wait! Wait only one day. Let us gather the opinions of the others.”

  I nodded. Lila scribbled notes to Georgina and John and bade Mattie deliver them on her way home. “Take the pony and cart, Mattie. You can return them tomorrow.”

  Willing myself to put the matter out of my mind, I turned to the last missive, which had been sent express from London. It was from Bettina Loch, and I dreaded wading through her self-pitying ramble. But open it I must. Its predictable contents were as follows:

  Dearest Cassie,

  You will be shocked to learn that I have not yet located my brother. My uncle has engaged the services of a private detective, but I believe you are already aware of that. I received an express letter from Mr. Sparkman, sent a few hours after he interviewed you.

  To my horror, Sparkman opined that he fears Bart is deceased. He hinted that he believes you know more than you admitted. Can this be true?

  I have heard nothing from your brother Frederick since last year, when he shocked me by asking me to be his wife, even though he knows I am not willing to marry a second son and spend my life in the country. He should marry his shrinking violet of a friend, Rosamund. After breaking my brother’s heart, I’m sure she will not hesitate to worm her way further into your family.

  Entre nous, I would not be amiss to accepting a courtship from your elder brother, Winslow John, who will be the baronet someday. There is more than one way for us to be sisters-in-law!

  “Ugh!” I cried before I could stop myself. Lila took the letter from me and perused it briefly.

  “Ugh indeed!” She crumpled the letter and threw it in the fire.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lady Lovell and Dr. Carter appeared at nearly the same time early the next morning. We all settled in the parlor while Mattie gave the children breakfast in the kitchen. I briefly explained the situation and read Charles’s letter, which caused Miss Little’s eyes to open wide. In her world, one did not abandon one’s husband, but I now knew there were other worlds. I was quickly learning from Georgina that such “rules” were in place to give men power over women. I wanted happiness for myself with the man I truly loved—the man who was deserving of my love! I would not let society’s dicta deter me.