The Baron & the Clockmaker's Daughter

by Suzy Stewart Dubot

  Chapter 8

  Irene came to Marshalswick.

  She was as beautiful as ever, but now she was a woman not a debutant. Her skills were honed.

  It was at the end of the week and there had been a ‘fuss’ in front of the house when a carriage had arrived. Then there had been a ‘fuss’ in the entry hall. Any ‘fuss’ was left to Stokes to handle. He would then inform the master, if he felt it merited his attention. However, Quentin had heard two women’s voices, so curiosity had pushed him to quit the library to see what was going on.

  The blood drained from his face, and it felt as if it had left his body completely. He had hoped she was dead and had even convinced himself that in the three years since her departure, she probably was.

  “Hello Quentin, aren’t you going to welcome me? I have lost track of the miles I have travelled these last few weeks just to arrive here.”

  She put on a face that might express fatigue, while passing the back of her hand across her forehead.

  Stunned, Quentin scowled at her without a word. She disregarded him and wasted no time in addressing the butler.

  “Stokes, have the decency to bring me some refreshment in the drawing room, if you please, and show my maid where she can restore herself, too.”

  To her maid she said, “Jane, run along with Stokes to the kitchen and make yourself known. There’s a good girl.”

  Quentin regained his wits which had temporarily disappeared with the blood.

  “You are not welcome here, Irene. It is best that you go before the horses are unharnessed.”

  His tone left no doubt as to his opinion of her.

  “Goodness, you must have slept badly to be such a poor host,” she said, ignoring his words.

  If Quentin had not come from the library, he might have been able to stand in her way, but she was already next to the drawing room door. She entered it where she discarded, with little concern, her pelisse and bonnet onto the sofa before collapsing gracefully into a stuffed chair. Her ivory-coloured dress, trimmed with fine gold braid, was perfect for drawing attention to her black shiny hair, her own ivory complexion with a hint of pink in her cheeks and lips. Seductive hazel eyes completed the image she wished to project. Her taste was impeccable, as always.

  “You’ve certainly not improved this room since I was last here,” she commented with a wave of a limp hand. “It is as depressing as ever. Does that mean that you have still to find a woman who will accept you?” She laughed with a mocking undertone to her words.

  He watched her with a horrified fascination. He refused to enter into a conversation with a harpy, but she continued unperturbed.

  “Of course, I am no longer available to you, as a man cannot marry his brother’s widow. So don’t think I’ve come to trap you. Although, nothing prevents us from sampling from ‘what might have been’.”

  This time she looked up at him from under those thick dark lashes he remembered so well. He knew that she was only trying to provoke him, and it added fuel to his fury. He continued to stare at her wondering if anything would shut her up, make her cease her nasty innuendoes.

  The tea did.

  It arrived and she really must have been thirsty, as she hardly waited for it to cool.

  He caught Stokes before he left, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the drawing room.

  “Stokes, please make sure that Madame’s baggage is replaced in the carriage, as she will be leaving once she has finished her tea.”

  Whereupon, Irene looked up at Stokes with the sweetest smile before saying, “While you are at it, Stokes, please add those of the children. They’ll be leaving with me.”

  The phlegmatic Stokes’s face dropped. He knew that this was not simply a battle but a war. This was going to finish badly for someone. He looked to Quentin for instructions and sensed he seethed. He honestly felt pain for the man who had finally found happiness only to have it snatched away from him through no doing of his own.

  Quentin looked daggers at Irene. He wanted her dead, but she was the children’s mother. There was no point denying to her that they were in the house because he was their official guardian — or was he, now that Irene had resurfaced in England?

  “I am sorry Stokes, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to accommodate Madam — until I have had a word with my solicitors. Please give her the most depressing room we have. It seems she finds this room rather miserable, so we may have to put her in here.”

  Stokes hid a smirk as best he could. He knew his master would fight to the death if need be, and the staff would be behind him to the last man.

  Quentin left the room with the intention of finding the children. They were out, so he left word that they be brought directly to him in the library as soon as they returned. There he began writing to his solicitors in London wanting to get the missive off without delay. Wishing the letter to arrive in the quickest time possible, it made sense to send it with one of his grooms, so, when he’d finished, he asked Stokes to organise a reliable messenger who would then wait for a reply. If he had to stay over several nights, monies were to be provided.

  Quentin could only hope that his title along with his fortune would pull some weight with the solicitors; that they would make an effort to be thorough and prompt.

  He remained in the library completely unaware of the best course to take with Irene. Knew how determined she could be, but he didn’t want her insinuating herself into his life. For him, she was persona non-grata.

  He needed Faith now.

  The thought had him shuddering, however. Irene was adept at decrying anyone with a viciousness that left its mark. It would be better to keep Faith away from her, if possible. He couldn’t kid himself that Faith had the same type of experience as Irene who had rubbed shoulders with the aristocracy.

  Now that he had calmed down, his mind began to see the situation more like a game of chess. One had to evaluate the possible moves and counter them by thinking ahead—more steps ahead than his opponent.

  What did she want?

  He knew that her ultimate goal was not to take the children. She’d never wanted them and had left them as soon as an occasion had presented itself. Also, if they went with her, they would prejudice her chances age-wise, as they got older. She wouldn’t be able to imply she was younger than she was. He knew that if she took them, it would be to punish him or to put pressure on him, nothing else.

  Did she need money?

  She couldn’t already be short of money, because as Jeremy’s widow, she had been left a substantially generous sum, although some of the money had been tied up in trusts for the children.

  Did she need somewhere to live? She could return to Jeremy’s home which had stood vacant for the last six months, since Jeremy’s death. He wondered why she hadn’t gone there as it was now hers.

  She herself had said that she hadn’t come to trap him.

  The law was such that it was considered incestuous for a man to marry his brother’s widow. The intimacy of families living in the same home did sometimes lead to a shifting of partners but as marriage was illegal, it did mean that there was less chance of someone being assassinated for marital gain.

  So, what did she want?

  He was no nearer to knowing, and he was sure that she wouldn’t tell him. He would only know once it was too late. She’d had years of practicing her intrigues and thrived on them. He supposed that her Italian lover had either died, tired of her, or run out of money. But it was certain that she would never discuss that black blotch in her life.

  He couldn’t say how long he sat testing his theories. The children’s return interrupted his thoughts. Stokes brought them to him in the library with Mrs. ‘What’s Her Name’ in tow and Wizz behind.

  “That’s marvellous, Stokes. Just take their coats please and Mrs.…

  “Mrs. Welby, sir.”

  She seemed resigned to repeating her name for him.

  “Ah yes, Mrs. Welby, go have some tea and
cake while I’m here with the children. I’m sure you deserve it. Come back in an hour, if you would and — please take Wizz with you.”

  “Yes, sir.” she smiled gratifyingly.

  Christopher was still standing straight, obviously sensing something in the air. Helen had already scrambled into an armchair and was sitting comfortably, perhaps ready to doze? When the door was shut tight, Quentin signalled to Christopher to approach.

  “I have some news for you. I hope it will make you happy, but if it doesn’t, don’t let it worry you. We are a family now with Faith, and I want you to know you will be part of the family as long as you want to be.”

  “What news, Uncle?”

  Christopher didn’t waste time. God, he was only five, and he was too old.

  “Your mother is here in the house. I don’t know what her plans are, but she will be staying for a little while,” he explained.

  “Do I have to see her?”

  “It might be beneficial to you both if you did see her, but I’m afraid she does have the right to see you if she wants.”

  Quentin wasn’t very deft when talking to children. He glanced at Helen who had indeed gone to sleep in the armchair.

  “If you say so, Uncle Quentin.”

  He couldn’t resist then. He took Christopher in his arms for a quick hug, but poor Christopher looked lost.

  “Will Faith be home soon? She’ll know what to do.” He tried to reassure himself. He now called her by her first name as she had asked him to do.

  “She’ll be home for you to see on Sunday. In the meantime, you must be polite to your mother at all times. Come and see me if there is a problem, all right?”

  Christopher nodded. His face showed no emotion at all. His mother had been gone out of his life for three years. He’d only been two-years-old when she’d left, so Quentin doubted he remembered her. It was her absence that had marked him.

  “Come and sit at my desk and show me the numbers and letters you know.”

  The rest of the hour was spent with Christopher showing his uncle what he knew, which was considerable for his age. Quentin was in admiration of this little boy. He didn’t want to lose Jeremy’s son now. He wanted them to be a family.

  Mrs. Welby arrived on time to get Christopher and Helen, whom she carried upstairs in her arms.

  Quentin was free to think again. He then had an idea that struck him as ingenious. He hadn’t even made the effort and it had arrived there like a flash of light. He picked up the quill to write again. This might take longer but he was confident that this was the ‘ace’ up his sleeve or perhaps ‘dagger’ would be more apt. The letter was soon ready to go, but by more orthodox methods.

  Quentin felt better for having taken action. Now that his adrenalin had subsided, he was decidedly miserable at the prospect of sharing a house with Irene. It would curtail his relations with Faith and cast a gloom over the household in general. He intended to lay down rules for her, but how to enforce them escaped him. He would nevertheless go to Chipping Barnet tomorrow as planned because Faith knew very little about Irene. He would rather that she hear the worst from him.

  By the end of the evening, he’d heard that Irene had made herself at home in the room she had been given with Jane in the adjacent service rooms. It was down the corridor from his room, but that didn’t worry him as he intended to lock his door each night. He laughed as he imagined changing rooms with Whittle and the shock and the embarrassment she would feel if she did attempt anything. He might just do it…no, he didn’t want to lose Whittle. She hadn’t made an effort to see the children yet. That comforted him in the idea that they didn’t really interest her. The evening meal had been served to her in her room. She was evidently resting to regain her full force before going to the attack.

  Why did this have to happen now when he thought his life had reached perfection? He was sure that Socrates, Plato or Aristotle would have a good explanation and it wouldn’t be simple. His life-line was knowing that Faith was there and that with her support and even her way of viewing things, he could accomplish so much. He could hardly wait to join her.

  He was on the point of departing in the phaeton the next afternoon when Irene breezed into the hallway. If he hadn’t known that she was a ‘sorceress’, he could understand the strength that her looks gave her, because she was beauty personified. She now had the luscious figure of a twenty-five-year-old woman and she was groomed as only the Italians knew how.

  Her dress in heavy dark green silk must have cost a fortune. The braiding on it was with gold thread, as was the intricate embroidery. Her movements caused the sheen on the silk to subtly change colour, so that one way or another, all attention was drawn to her. It didn’t stop him from feeling sick when he thought of the havoc she’d wreaked with Jeremy and the children and even himself. He turned to leave without acknowledging her, when she spoke up.

  “Off so early for an evening of entertainment? But of course, I remember, you did keep uncivilised hours. Will we be seeing you later?”

  “We!” he exclaimed. “Don’t incorporate yourself with anyone else in this household. You’ve done nothing to merit the right to say ‘we’.”

  He slammed out of the house not giving her time to riposte. Ted was ready and waiting for him. A fine rain had begun which dampened spirits more than they were already.

  Faith would be a balm for any problem he had.

  -o0o-

  She put her arms around his chest and hugged him to her so spontaneously that he thought he would burst from his love for her. She went on her toes to place an open kiss on his mouth that had him drawing in his breath with the taste of her. He found himself uncomfortably tight in his trousers but couldn’t allow himself to indulge in any fantasy until he’d talked with her about the critical situation at Marshalswick House.

  “Quentin, I received your letter this week. If I hadn’t already succumbed to you, I would all over again.”

  She referred to the one sent before he had found her.

  “You may seem gruff sometimes, but you certainly know how to write. If it were possible, I’d love you doubly.”

  She kissed him on his heart before going to get her bag.

  But before they went, he wanted to be sure that she would be prepared to come face to face with Irene.

  “We need to talk before we leave,” he told her. “There is a new development in Marshalswick.”

  Seeing his frown, she didn’t hesitate to take him upstairs with her, so they could talk calmly.

  He studied her, taking in her graceful movements. She was wearing a long-sleeved dress in soft cotton the colour of butter. The buttons in the front and on the sleeves were cloth-covered in a darker yellow. The neckline was low with a fine scalloped edge just above the swell of her breasts; those breasts that had lain on him. He shut his eyes briefly as he remembered the feel of the tips as they’d teased the hair on his chest.

  He admitted to himself he was a novice when it came to love. He shuddered to think how close he had come to contenting himself with Irene. He’d needed to flush Irene’s image from his mind, and Faith had done that the instant she had come to him. There was no comparison. With Faith, there was an aura which bathed all that was around her with warmth and light. Her beauty could not be categorized, because it was more than physical. How had he lived before knowing her? The answer was simply, he hadn’t.

  After he’d talked and explained the tragedy surrounding Irene for more than an hour, Faith laughed. Quentin looked at her surprised once again by her self-confidence.

  “What are we doing here when we could be more than half way home?”

  She jumped up and pulled him to his feet.

  “This is going to be a wonderful challenge, because I’m not obliged to follow any rules. I am a commoner. The worse she can do to me is aggress me physically, and I would have no hesitation in retaliating.”

  Although she’d voiced the idea of violence, it was not something she had ever had to deal with
. For her, violence would come in the form of a defensive act. Only the children would be able to provoke her to violence in their defense.

  She kissed him with such enthusiasm that he believed that she was going to enjoy herself.

  “Those poor children have been used unmercifully in all sorts of strategic moves. Luckily, they haven’t been aware of the details. This time Quentin, we have to get them to help. They have to be so obnoxious that no one would want them. You’ll have to pretend that you would be happy to be shot of them, and that the only reason you hesitated when she first arrived was because you didn’t want to give her anything she wanted.” Faith told him. “Anyway, something like that. Your staff will have to play along as well, and I’m sure they will. They are devoted to you.”

  Her suggestion seemed a bit of a gamble to him. He didn’t want Irene to call his bluff and disappear with the children. He was convinced, though, that she didn’t want the aggravation of them now as young children. Hard to tell what her sentiments would be as they grew and she got older, but they weren’t there yet.

  Faith also suggested that he hire someone trustworthy to investigate her, even if it took a while. Best to know your enemy. As it had been his intention to do just that, his spirits lifted with the confirmation that he and Faith thought in the same way. He pulled her close to him in the carriage so he could feel her thigh against his. He kissed her mouth and then her neck below her ear. She had too many blasted clothes on. He couldn’t wait to get her to himself.

  They arrived home later than the last time because of their delay in Barnet. Stokes had hardly greeted them when Quentin dragged the poor man into the library. Even though it was late, there was no time to be lost. He quickly explained to Stokes what they intended to make Irene believe and asked him to tell the staff, with the exception of Jane, to go along with the ‘terrible children’ fiction.

  Stokes smiled and nodded. His intense dislike for Irene would make this easy.

  “Say no more, my lord,” he said as he glided from the room.

  Quentin had only one idea left in his head.

  He yanked Faith after him, up the stairs to the first floor. Unromantic as it was, they took turns in the water closet before locking themselves into Quentin’s bedroom. They had both had a week to fantasize, so there were few preliminaries. Faith’s presence in his room was all it took to arouse Quentin’s imagination. Locking the door had added the ‘forbidden’ quality’ adding a thrill to the moment.

  No other woman had ever entered his bedchamber. There had never been anyone he cared for enough to invite — until Faith.

  Now he was transformed into a man bursting with passion. He was not aware of their gestures, their shedding of clothing, only the thought that he wanted to hold this woman as close as he could. He wanted to see his body stretched out alongside this enchantingly lovely woman so that he would have memories to tide him over the times when his bed would feel empty without her.

  When they had exhausted their physical desire for each other, Quentin spent a long time passing his hand the length of her body. He took in the long measure from her hip to her ankle, appreciating the silken quality to her skin. His hand passed over her shoulder and along her arm to finish by intertwining their fingers that he brought to his lips. He then took her by her shoulder to turn her to him that he might whisper his feelings in the dim light.

  “I cannot believe you are here with me. It is the very first time in my life when I have felt unmanned by the bounty I’ve been accorded. If this should only be a fleeting moment of my life, I am grateful that you have deigned to pass it with me. I love you, Faith. Never doubt the sincerity of my words.”

  “There is no reason that this should be a fleeting moment. I am prepared to commit myself to you, and I can reassure you that you have given me more than physical pleasure, my love. It would seem that we have more in common than one might suspect. I need to love and to be loved so I think that we are quite suited, don’t you?”

  Smiling, she held his face in both her hands and began to kiss him everywhere. She loved his flavour and was surprised to find he had one. It led her to laving his lips and his mouth with her tongue. He gasped at the sensation and returned the kiss. He laughed and clutched her to him as they entwined their limbs in the jumble of novices discovering that it was possible to wrap yourself around your lover.

  “I want you here with me now. I don’t want you to leave, ever again,” he said with a serious face and a touch of whine to his words.

  She could nearly hear the little boy in him. This grown man needed to be spoiled. His life had been so regulated that there had been no fun in it. She was going to try and put things right. They spoke about a thousand different things before finally drifting off to sleep.

  Hardly any time seemed to have passed when they both jumped awake with a banging and thumping on the bedroom door.

  Quentin sat up rubbing his face and looking down at Faith, who tried to get below the sheets. The noise continued. Quentin got up and put on his dressing gown, not the happiest of men. He unlocked the door and yanked it open to see Christopher and Helen standing there. Down the hallway he caught a glimpse of Irene looking furious before she pushed her door shut as hard as she could.

  Christopher grinned at him.

  “Is that naughty enough?” he smiled.

  Quentin brought them both into the room before carefully shutting the door. He towered over them but Christopher wasn’t worried. He wasn’t surprised to see Faith in the room, as he knew his uncle and she were together ‘forever.’ Helen was too young to think about it at all.

  “Uncle Quentin, we were told to be as naughty as we like, and you would be pleased,” Christopher explained.

  It was too much. Quentin roared with laughter, his deep voice filling the room. That made Faith laugh and then the children were running around the room madly before jumping on the bed.

  “Faith, it’s fun being naughty. We can do as we like.”

  Helen was nodding her head in agreement.

  “I like to be naughty too,” she agreed with her brother.

  Quentin squeezed back into bed with Christopher and Helen at the foot of it.

  “Well that was a good start at being naughty,” Quentin agreed, “but you mustn’t expect to see me look happy. I shall have to pretend that I’m annoyed; Faith too. Don’t worry though, we still love you. We just don’t want you to be taken away from us, and if you’re naughty, you’ll stay. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. It’s so that Mother won’t take us with her.”

  “Do you want to go with your mother?” Faith looked serious as she asked. “You are allowed to go, if that is what you really want.”

  “Oh no. We’re much happier here with you and Uncle Quentin and Wizz, aren’t we Helen?”

  Little Helen nodded and smiled before throwing herself onto Faith who was having trouble keeping the covers up around her naked body.

  “It might be a good idea to bang on your mother’s door tomorrow,” Quentin suggested, “but don’t wait for her to invite you in. Run away quickly.”

  Quentin thought he might be able to think up a few other naughty things for them to do. This was all strange to him — in bed with the love of his life and two wonderful children smiling and happy in the middle. He felt his eyes smart, so he turned and kissed Faith in front of the children who clapped with enthusiasm.

  He got up and shooed the children out, telling them to go and have breakfast with Mrs. Welby. (ah, he’d remembered her name, at last). He would come and get them later for an outing. They left happy enough. He locked the door, dropped his dressing gown and went straight back to bed with Faith.

  “Nothing like a bit of excitement to get an appetite worked up and I’m hungry for you,” he said. “Bloody hell, Faith, I never say silly things like that. What has happened to me to get me spouting idiotic hyperboles?”

  She didn’t answer as her mouth was already on his.

  They prepared themselv
es before going down to breakfast. There was no sign of Irene. She probably slept until midday. He’d worried unnecessarily about her meeting Faith, although now he was sure that Faith could give her as good as she got.

  They decided to take the children into St. Albans to show them all the Roman vestiges that marked its history as a Roman settlement. There were Roman mosaics and parts of a Roman wall which they thought might interest Christopher. Faith would be happy to read to them later about the Roman army too. The more gruesome history of the martyr St Alban getting his head chopped off was, perhaps, something they would mention another time.

  They stopped at The Goat Inn for lunch and the naughty children were very well behaved.

  The serving girl remarked on what a nice, happy family they made. Faith smiled and took Quentin’s hand under the table. Every time she showed him a mark of her affection, he thought of how nearly he had lost her. It still made his stomach drop. He knew he had to marry her before he would feel truly secure, and yet it frightened him to speak about it for fear of scaring her away. He raised her hand and kissed it to reassure himself.

  They were home in time for tea.

  So was Irene. They had already asked to have it in the drawing room when Irene appeared.

  “So, I was wrong. You have found a woman who will have you,” she said with a laugh one might think pleasant. They all knew the comment wasn’t meant to be pleasant.

  “I am much honoured that Quentin would have me. It is not every day that one meets a man who is: Intelligent, Handsome, Generous, Humorous, Diligent, Altruistic and Caring. I believe that gives you a fair idea just how honoured I am,” Faith said with a similar tone to her voice.

  “You forgot wealthy,” Irene was quick to add.

  “Oh yes, …and I forgot to mention an excellent lover.”

  Faith spoke as though she hadn’t heard Irene’s sharp remark.

  Quentin sat with a grin on his face. He was enjoying this. He knew Irene would have stamped her foot in a tantrum had she been standing.

  “Yes, well they do say that ‘Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them’. It probably holds true for all the rest.”

  “What does it matter as long as it holds true for me?” Faith lifted her cup in a toast to Quentin, who winked at her.

  “I can see I am ‘de trop’, one too many, so I’ll just go and see my children.”

  She tried to use her words to slice the ambience, but, before she could open the drawing room door, there was the sound of breaking china in the hallway and childish cries and protests before more china crashed to the floor.

  They both saw Irene hesitate before opening the door, but she could hardly back down now.

  Faith turned to Quentin and said, “We’re going to have to replace the Sèvres service. Those children have broken more pieces than I can count.”

  Irene opened the door and went out as the children ran up the stairs and disappeared. Stokes appeared with a maid carrying a pan and broom. It was obvious that Irene tried to bang the door behind her, but Quentin already knew from experience that none of the doors slammed.

  ‘Air pressure,’ he thought smiling.

  He got up and leaned over Faith holding the arms of the chair on either side of her.

  “So I’m an excellent lover?” he beamed down at her.

  “Yes, and I thought it would irk her no end.”

  Faith grabbed his waistband and he had to pull back quickly.

  “Don’t do that to me, unless you want to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

  “It still wouldn’t be enough, Quentin. I want you all the time,” she whined.

  “At last I have found a way to get you to do what I want, if not…” He grinned.

  “Faith, I want us to marry. We have to decide when and then set things in motion.”

  He looked hopeful.

  “Shall we say that the day I am carrying your baby, we can begin the formalities. Does that seem fair?”

  She looked at him with her head on one side. He suddenly pulled her to her feet.

  “Come on then, let’s not waste time,” he urged.

  He was joking but not a hundred percent.

  Stokes had informed them that the broken china had actually been old chipped pieces of kitchenware. This was part of the plan to make Irene change her mind about taking the children. Both Christopher and Helen were enjoying the comedy. He warned them not to be surprised at anything unusual that took place with the children, as the staff had come up with a ton of ideas. There was nothing like a conspiracy to meld the troops.

  Quentin did get Faith back in his bed in the late afternoon. He couldn’t bear the idea of the week ahead without her. He wanted to hold her in his arms, their flesh touching and breathe in the arresting perfume that was Faith. She had discovered the strange pleasure she received from licking him. Did other women like to lick and suck? She doubted she would ever know. She had so much to anticipate. Oh how she loved him and to think she had nearly left him aside.

  “Thank you, God,” she whispered.

  She returned to Barnet that evening.

  “I’ll see you next month, Quentin.”

  When he looked puzzled, she giggled saying ‘next Saturday is the first of October.’ He breathed easier.

  Monday saw the return of his groom with correspondence from his solicitors. The news wasn’t good because, although he had been named the guardian of the two children, it was in the case that their parents were dead or untraceable. At Jeremy’s death, they hadn’t known if Irene was alive or dead and if alive, where? That was how the children had come to be in his care.

  But Irene was back, so she now had legal responsibility for them, unless she relinquished it in his favour. The idea of losing them troubled him deeply. He had to determine what she was really after. He’d hired someone to investigate her, but it would take a lot of time due to the fact she’d been living in Italy.

  So, this week would end September.

  Quentin found he was wishing his life away so that he could be with Faith all the time. The thought sent the tiniest sensation to his lower abdomen, but he tamped it down not wishing to spend the week in agony. He shook his head in disbelief. Unlike some of his peers, he had never had a rampant libido in all this adult life and yet now... He was going to have to concentrate more on the ethereal side of love if he wanted to make it through the next week sane.

  He made a special effort to catch up on business that had been neglected during the month, but tomorrow, James Reed would be there to give account of the monthly finances. He smiled as he heard the children screaming at each other and things dropping. He doubted that Irene would be smiling.

  The library door opened without a knock and there stood an indignant Irene.

  “Haven’t you any control over those children? They are abominable!” she screeched.

  “You’re their mother. If you’d been more caring when they were babies, they’d certainly be better behaved today. Be careful whom you tar with your brush.”

  She swirled her skirts and left the library unsuccessfully slamming the unslammable.

  He loved those children.

  The Saturday routine took place without variance. Except, James Reed offered his congratulations to Quentin, having heard from a number of sources that he and Faith were reconciled to the hilt. He wouldn’t go as far as to saying the best man had won, because he didn’t believe he had. He was just happy if Faith was.

  He knew Irene from long date and did his best to avoid her. He considered her a viper and had never understood her attraction to men. She must have sensed his dislike, because when their paths did cross, she ignored him. None of her wily ways wasted on him.

  After lunch, there was a crisis when Irene found snails crawling up the mirror in her room. She yelled for “Stokes!” at the top of her lungs, but his back was aching, so he took longer than usual to arrive.

  “I will not tolerate anyone entering my room without my
permission, do you hear?” she ordered.

  “Would that mean maids as well as your children, ma’am?” Stokes dared ask.

  “Don’t be daft, Stokes. You know I mean those little devils one calls children.”

  Stokes organised his face to look shocked, but it was lost on her.

  “Now, get rid of those slimy creatures and get someone to clean the mirror.” With a grimace, she gestured towards the snails and their trails on several mirrors.

  He very slowly left the room holding one hand on his non-existent ache. She couldn’t see the smile on his face.

  Quentin left at the first opportunity to get Faith. How was it that he was still excited and still in a hurry to fetch her? His enthusiasm hadn’t waned an iota. He had the impression that the more that time went by, the more he regressed in age. He was acting like an adolescent now, and yet he didn’t remember ever feeling like this at any other period in his life.

  In his youth, there had been one or two girls whom he’d lusted after, and he’d had full sex with maybe six women, all told, but that didn’t make him much of an expert. He’d never felt happy afterwards. In fact, he was hardly more experienced than Faith, when it came down to it. He’d never had a durable relationship with a woman. It was beyond him to understand why it was so good between them. Faith wasn’t experienced, but she was naturally responsive to him, which fuelled his passion. It wasn’t just because he loved her. He’d been drawn to her before that. He did know that he was also enraptured by her smell, her taste. There really must be some invisible ingredient at work.

  To think, all he had to do to keep her was to give her a child and he was more than willing to do that. There was only a month separating them from a life together, and it would have to have thirty-one days in it.

  The weekend with Faith passed in a blaze of bliss.

  At one moment, Faith had asked Quentin if it were possible to go and visit the Brosnans, the time it would take to let Eloïse know that she was back. She didn’t want to stay. If they were not receiving, she would leave a short note to the same effect.

  They went with the children in the pony trap and Faith had the pleasure of seeing Eloïse, who was now quite large with her pregnancy. Eloïse had asked them to stay, but Faith explained that they had not planned on it and had promised other activities to the children. She told her that she would be back permanently at the end of October, and that she hoped to be able to spend a little time with her then. She also announced that she and Quentin hoped to marry at some time in the future. They left the Brosnans on their doorstep waving heart-felt goodbyes.

  The afternoon was spent teaching the children to ride on the pony. Helen took to it with the greatest of ease while Christopher was a little nervous. Once he saw Helen laughing as she went around in the saddle, he managed just as well. Not even Irene was able to cast a shadow on the weekend with her mean jibes or her criticisms. Faith and Quentin would just look at each other while trying to stifle their laughs whenever they heard her make a snide remark. It was the quickest way to end any of her comments. More often than not, she left in a huff.

  The saddest moment was when Faith had to leave, yet again. They both agreed that it could have been worse. What if she’d found a job much farther away — in London, for example?

  “Don’t give me nightmares, Faith. I would have been stuck here on my own with Irene.”

  Quentin had planned to return to Chipping Barnet on the Thursday, sixth of October, their joint birthday. It was to be a surprise for Faith as he’d implied he’d see her as usual on the Saturday evening. For their birthday celebration, he had reserved the best room in The Mitre Inn in the name of Baron and Baroness Isleworth. It would assure them of the best birthday dinner possible.

  His ‘surprise’ for Faith nearly killed him…

  At seven o’clock on the sixth, he was waiting across the road from the shop when he saw Faith come out of it with a tall young man. She locked the door before the young man took her hand to his arm, and they began to walk down the street chatting and smiling to each other, obvious friends.

  It was as though he had been rammed in the chest. He backed into the brick wall behind him and had to hold on to it to stop from falling. He didn’t know what to do. He gasped. He managed then to gulp in great quantities of air as he tried to take control again. His mind tried to refute what his eyes had seen.

  Then, before he could move from the wall, he saw a woman on the same pavement walking towards them. Upon reaching the two, who acted surprised to see her, she took the man’s other arm and pulled them round to return to the shop.

  It had been a false alarm. Faith hadn’t deserted him for another man.

  The sweat on his face mingled with the water brimming from his eyes. He took his handkerchief and wiped all his face and then wiped it a second time without thinking. The relief he now felt made him want to laugh hysterically. How easy it would have been to think the worst. Was he so insecure? It seemed that love brought pain as well as pleasure.

  He waited five minutes before crossing the road. He wanted to be sure that he was breathing normally and that his face was no longer perspiring. The shop door had been closed with the blind pulled down as it was well past seven o’clock. He knocked sturdily on the door and waited until Faith peaked from behind the blind.

  Her face lit up, leaving Quentin in no doubt that his visit gave her pleasure. He still had trouble functioning, so when she opened the door to him, he nearly fell into her arms. He seized her tightly burying his face in her neck breathing heavily.

  “What’s the matter Quentin? Are you ill?” she asked anxiously.

  “No, no. I’ll be all right. I think I must be more tired than I realised.”

  He tried to excuse himself.

  “I wanted to surprise you for our birthday, my love. Happy Birthday.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. He kissed her and couldn’t stop. He deepened their kiss and finally had to pull back or disgrace himself on the spot. He knew that somewhere in the building there were at least two other people. She sensed his uncertainty or his insecurity, so pulled him to her to hug him. She never again wanted to be responsible for making this man unhappy.

  “Quentin?”

  He looked at her squarely with the thinnest smile. He didn’t want to explain anything, at least not now.

  “Yes…”

  “Will you marry me as soon as possible?”

  She added as an afterthought, “Please.”

  “Do you think you’re with child?” he asked tentatively, remembering the condition that she had made.

  “No. I want you for you. I want you to be mine for no other reason than I want you. I’ve anticipated long enough. I want the real thing NOW.”

  She laughed. He kissed her face on every exposed surface and then began again until someone coughed in the back of the shop.

  Faith turned while saying to Quentin, “This is my dear friend Lydia Curzon. This is their shop and they’ve come home early. Lydia, this is Quentin Wolfe, the man I am going to marry, in the shortest possible time.”

  Then everything was normal again. Niceties were exchanged and Quentin invited them all to have dinner with him at the Mitre Inn. As Faith hadn’t expected the Curzons, it was the perfect solution in every way.

  The Curzons were surprised when the landlord addressed Quentin as ‘my Lord’. Faith hadn’t said anything to them about him being titled. He didn’t seem to notice, so nothing was said. They were taken to a table away from the main bustle and began to order their meal. As they ate, it was agreed that Faith would finish the week and would leave them on Saturday, late afternoon. Now that they were home, there was no need for her to stay longer.

  Quentin liked the Curzons. They were simple and unpretentious. Mr. Ciaran Curzon obviously had Irish blood in him, because he had the gift of the gab. Of course, he had an Irish accent, too. They had a lovely meal, and it was the first time that he and Faith had social
ised as a couple. He felt good again. The inn’s landlord came to their table after the meal was finished with a small birthday cake and a bottle of champagne that Quentin had ordered beforehand. They all toasted the happy and unusual event of the double birthday.

  As it was getting late, the Curzons left saying they would probably see one another tomorrow at some time. There was no embarrassment apparent about Faith staying with Quentin. Perhaps the Curzons had indulged before marrying, or perhaps they were just happy that others were happy too.

  He and Faith went up to the room he had booked which was decent and adequate with a corner reserved for washing behind a folding screen. They both undressed and passed to their ablutions before getting into bed. Once in bed, Quentin pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her and caress her with a vigour he had never before shown. He was hardly aware of the overflowing passion he felt. He brought her to fulfilment without taking possession of her and continued to stimulate her until she herself lost control and she urged him on, pleading for release again but he held her on the brink until he could wait no more. They melded.

  He was breathing raggedly at the edge of his emotions. He realised that the shock he had received earlier in the evening had pushed him to claiming Faith as men had done, time immemorial. He had branded her with himself. He had wanted to mark her with his body.

  Guilt now predominated as he remembered what she had said about him. He was jealous and possessive and would never change. He covered his eyes with one of his large hands and took deep breaths. He couldn’t stop. He was afraid to look at her.

  For some inexplicable reason, Faith understood his distress. She didn’t know what had provoked it, but she somehow understood. He had been alone too long, and he wanted her to belong to him. She now kissed him gently on the lips. She half pulled her body onto his so her face was above his and she hugged him while kissing his chin, his cheeks, his ears until he lowered his hand. She took his face between her two hands and turned him to her. She whispered to him that she loved him and nothing would ever change that.

  “I’m sorry Faith. I love you too much. I don’t know why there is a limit but I have the impression that I passed it. I am just so afraid of losing you again.”

  “You’re mad, Quentin Wolfe. Can’t you tell that I’m addicted to you? We can be married by the beginning of next month if banns are called soon. In fact, after tonight we’d better hurry because I’m sure you’ve taken possession of me in more ways than one.”

  They interlaced themselves with their mouths at kissing distance and went to sleep exhausted.

  In the morning, everything was well with the world. Quentin and Faith had slept comfortably, each reaching out for the other at different times in the night so as to be reassured that they weren’t dreaming. Quentin cuddled Faith and she had the impression that the panic that he seemed to have endured had passed.

  She hurried to get ready for work and then Quentin came awake and had to hurry too, because he wanted to have breakfast with her. He walked her to the shop and left her saying he would meet her at seven. He planned to keep their room at the inn so that they would be able to spend Faith’s free time together. He kissed her tenderly and left. Faith watched him until he was out of sight, suspecting that she wasn’t the first woman in the world who had a man with doubts.

  The two days went very quickly as Lydia was with her in the shop.

  Lydia described their trip to Ireland which had lasted too long for them both. There had been so many aunts, uncles and cousins to meet that she was afraid that she only remembered half of them. She would never have asked Ciaran to cut short the visits, but it was he who asked her if she minded if they left sooner than planned.

  The journey around Ireland was supposed to have been a holiday, but the real holiday was coming home. She confided in Faith that she was increasing and that the baby would be due in less than six months now. She was grateful that they had been able to make the trip at this time, because knowing the extent of the family now, she was daunted by the idea of making it with a babe in arms.

  She had been surprised to find that Faith’s situation had changed so dramatically in the time they had been away, but from the beginning, she had suspected that there had been more to the story than Faith had been willing to tell. She was very happy for her, and as it seemed that Quentin had enjoyed their company as much as they had his, there was every chance that they would visit Marshalswick. As Marshalswick was relatively near, the farewells weren’t as sad as they might have been.

  Some of Faith’s belongings were still in the Curzons’ storage, so they knew they would be meeting again before too long. Faith assured Lydia that she would be ready to help her in any way before or after the arrival of the baby. Lydia smiled saying that she hoped that she would agree to being the baby’s godmother, but they would speak about it at a later date. There was no point in tempting fate…

  ‘Faith had become free on the eighth of October, so it didn’t matter how many days there were in the month after all,’ Quentin thought.

  They were able to load a good part of her belongings into the phaeton and they left feeling excited as their new life together began.

  “You better not change your mind about me, Quentin Wolfe, or you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

  He laughed and began singing “I’ve got sixpence, jolly, jolly sixpence…”

  She looked at him in astonishment. It was the first time he had ever sung in her presence, and he sang exceedingly well. My goodness, he would never cease to surprise her.

  There was a happy time to be had by all when they arrived back at Marshalswick House earlier than expected. Even Wizz seemed to sense the excitement.

  “You really don’t have to leave any more?” Christopher questioned her. He wanted to be absolutely certain she was going to stay.

  He came and put an arm around her waist and leaned against her as any child belonging to her might have done. In a flash of insight, Faith imagined she was seeing Quentin young, except at five, Quentin hadn’t had anyone, because he had been two when his mother had died at Jeremy’s birth. She would never be able to change what was in the past, but she would try her best to prevent him dwelling on it. It would become vaguer as happy memories supplanted distant ones and now he had his chance at a second life…