by Sandra Heath
“Then we’ll have to see that she does, Robert, for otherwise no one will be really happy.”
There was a soft sound, like a sigh, and Jenny sat forward suddenly, looking at Christina. “My lord, Miss Jane, I think she’s waking up!”
They hurried to the bedside as Christina’s head turned slightly. Her eyes opened, and at first she saw only the maid. She smiled. “Jenny,” she murmured weakly. Then her glance moved on to Jane and Robert. The smile faltered when she looked at him. Vague memories returned again, unpleasant memories of mistrust and deception, disloyalty and shame.
He knew his fears were being realized, and without a word he turned and left the room.
Jane looked quickly after him, about to call him back, but then changed her mind; it would be better to speak to Christina first. She turned to Jenny.
“Go and tell the others that Miss Christina is awake again, but tell them not to come up because she’s weak and needs to rest all she can.” She didn’t want the others to come, not until she’d tried all she could to put things right between Christina and Robert.
“Yes, miss.” The maid hurried out.
Jane sat on the edge of the bed, taking her sister’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
The kindness in her voice made Christina feel more guilty than ever. “Well enough, I suppose,” she said quietly, avoiding Jane’s eyes.
Jane knew what she was thinking. “Look at me, Christina, for I understand everything. I know how you feel about Robert.”
Christina’s glance fled incredulously toward her. “You ... you know?”
“Yes.”
“Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
“If you can forgive me.”
“I ... I don’t understand. What is there for me to forgive?”
“My untruths. It wasn’t Robert that I met in the gardens last night, it was William. Robert was telling you the truth—he followed me and saw me with William. He loves you very much, Christina.”
Christina stared at her.
Jane squeezed her hand. “I fibbed to you because you startled me so when you said you’d seen me, and then I was alarmed when you said you’d seen Robert as well. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known how you felt about him, and I feel very guilty indeed that it was my fault you misunderstood him on the moor. You might have died in the river, Christina, and I would have been to blame.”
“Oh, no, please don’t think that.” Christina’s fingers curled around hers.
“I don’t think badly of you, Christina, for I know that if things had been different, and William had been about to be betrothed to you, I would have done what you did, I wouldn’t have been able to help myself.”
Tears sprang to Christina’s eyes. “Oh, Jane ...”
“Guilty consciences have no place in our lives anymore—you do know that now, don’t you?”
“But Father—”
“Knows everything. He was a little, er, startled at first, but he accepts everything now. Why, he’s even friendly with William.”
“He is?” Christina searched her face. “You wouldn’t fib to me, would you, Jane? You wouldn’t say all these things because of my accident?”
“Of course I wouldn’t! Whatever do you take me for?” Jane smiled then. “Don’t answer that last question, for to be sure I’ve been a horrid wretch to you of late. When I think of how badly I behaved, and what a trial I was to you, I’m very ashamed of myself.”
Jane glanced toward the fire. “My only excuse is that when I met William for the first time, it was like being struck by lightning.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“You and Robert?”
Christina nodded. “Until he walked into the Assembly Room, I was myself, but the moment I looked at him, I was a completely different person. It was like being shaken into life.”
“What a strange pair we are. I don’t think poor Father knows quite what’s hit him, but he has wit enough left to be determined to soon toast all our healths, mine and William’s, yours and Robert’s, and, I do believe, his own and Lady Chevenley’s.”
Christina smiled, but then her eyes clouded over. “Oh, Jane, I said some dreadful things to Robert on the moor. I accused him—”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Christina. All that matters is that you and he make up your differences. He wants you, and now it’s time for you to tell him that you want him as well.”
Jane got up from the bed, hurrying out of the room, and Christina stared uneasily after her. “Jane? I’m not ready yet ...”
But Jane had gone, and the room was suddenly quiet. The firelight continued to flicker warmly over the tapestries and the hangings of the bed, and she turned her head away, closing her eyes tightly. So much had happened in one day, so many confessions had been made, accusations leveled, hurtful things said.
The door opened quietly, and Robert was silhouetted against the light from the passage and gallery.
She looked quickly toward him, unable to speak.
Slowly he came into the room. “Jane tells me you wish to speak to me.”
“Yes. I ...” The words wouldn’t come; it was as if her tongue were frozen.
He drew a long breath, going to the window and looking out into the night. “You’ve remembered everything that happened by the bell tower?”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t have taken you all the way out there, but it’s a place that means a great deal to me. I meant to explain that to you at the time, but somehow it never got said. When I was a small boy, I used to ride there when I had problems, whether it was simply because my tutor had made me write a thousand lines or my father had tanned my hide for taking a pineapple from the pinery. It was a place I always went to when I had things to think about. Because I was there, my troubles didn’t seem to matter anymore. I’d stand by the tower, gazing around the moor, and I was king of all I surveyed.”
He glanced back at her. “I know it’s foolish, but I wanted it to be like that again today. I wanted all the misunderstandings and faults to go away, leaving only happiness behind, for everyone, not just you and me.”
“But it all went wrong instead.”
“Yes.”
“It went wrong because I was foolish,” she said quietly.
“The facts, as you knew them, gave you no reason to believe me.”
“My heart gave me every reason, though.”
He turned quickly. “Your heart?”
“I loved you then, and I love you now.”
For the space of a heartbeat he didn’t move; then he came quickly to the bed, sitting down and taking her hands urgently in his. “And I love you, Christina, I love you with all my heart.”
She closed her eyes, tears stinging her lids as he bent to kiss her softly on the lips. “Oh, Robert,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry I said all those things ...”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Do you forgive me?”
“You don’t need to ask,” he murmured, kissing her again.
“If I could turn the clock back ...”
“Time starts again from this moment, and the past is of no consequence.”
The tears were wet on her cheeks. “I’m suddenly so happy,” she whispered.
“And so am I, for at last I have my quarry where she can’t escape.”
“Your quarry?”
“The right Miss Richmond, the only Miss Richmond for me.”
There was a lump in her throat. “I still don’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you love me, dull, bookish Christina.”
“Then I must make you believe it,” he said softly, taking a small leather-bound box from his pocket. “I intended to give this to you by the tower, but now is perhaps a better time.”
She watched as he opened the little box and took out a ring. It was a beautiful ring, set with a solitary diamond that sparkled and flashed in the firelight. He took her left hand, and slipped the ring onto the fourth finger; then he
drew her hand, palm uppermost, to his lips.
“You’re almost mine now, Christina Richmond, you’re the future Lady St. Clement, but when we say our marriage vows, and you become Lady St. Clement in fact, then you’ll be mine forever.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the kiss. There was no guilty conscience now, no pang of unease that she was being disloyal, just a deep, sweet sense of joy that at last all was as it should be.
Copyright © 1989 by Sandra Heath
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451159151)
Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.