“You’re determined to run me down today, aren’t you?”
“Not really. You just seem to get in the way a lot,” Zachary said, matter-of-factly.
Edward laughed. He reached down and picked up the ball that had hit him and held it out. “This is yours, I presume?”
“Thanks, mister.” He turned, poised to run away again, but Edward couldn’t quite take watching him leave again.
“Wait!”
Zachary turned, quivering with barely contained patience. Now that he had his attention, though, Edward wasn’t sure what to say. “Um. What’s your name?” He knew it already, of course, but he didn’t think the boy knew that.
“Zachary Templeton. What’s yours?”
“Edward Mason.” He watched the boy for a reaction, but there was none. He tried not to be disappointed that Anna had never told the boy his father’s name, but he could not deny that it stung. Zachary was looking at him curiously, so he said, “How old are you?”
“Six. How old are you?”
Edward smiled. “Older than that.”
Zachary looked at him as if he were a simpleton. “Well, of course! You’re full grown, and all. You must be fifty or something!”
Edward blinked. “Well, no. Not quite.”
Zachary looked him up and down. “You look fifty to me.”
Edward was rendered speechless by a six-year-old. “Um. I’m only a year older than your mother. How old do you think she is?”
Zachary’s little brow wrinkled in concentration. “I dunno. Twenty, maybe?”
Edward laughed again. Anna would be delighted to hear it. “Close enough. Speaking of your mother, should you not be heading home? It must be close to teatime.”
Zachary shrugged. “I suppose. Would you like to come for tea? Mam always makes me something in the kitchen. She doesn’t like me to eat in the pub, but she doesn’t mind if I go in there sometimes and take orders.”
Edward knew Anna would probably object, but this was a golden opportunity.
“I would be delighted to join you for tea, Master Zachary. Lead the way, if you please.”
Zachary puffed his chest proudly. “This way, sir!”
He scampered away down the street, and Edward would have lost him entirely if he hadn’t known where he was going. He caught up with the boy at the kitchen door, and together they burst in, startling the cook and a scullery maid. They raced each other up the stairs to Anna’s private apartments, laughing and out of breath. Or rather, Edward was winded; Zachary was still full of energy.
Anna looked up from stirring something on the stove. Her eyebrows rose at Edward’s appearance, but she said nothing to him. Instead she looked at Zachary, and her eyes sparkled. Edward thought ruefully that she used to look at him with a similar sort of joy. He would see it there again, he thought. He had to.
He was shaken from his reverie by silence. Both Anna and Zachary were looking at him strangely.
“I’m sorry, what?”
The corners of Anna’s lips tipped up in amusement. “I was asking Zachary who he brought home for tea.”
“But I told her that she already knows you.”
Edward looked blank.
“Remember? You said you was only a year older than me mam, so I figured you had to know her if you knew how old she was.”
“Ah. Such a clever child,” he said, with an unfamiliar feeling of paternal pride. He turned to Anna and bowed. “Miss Templeton, it is lovely to see you again.”
She flashed a wry smile at him. “Good evening, Mr. Mason. I didn’t think to see you again so soon.”
“Well, I was rather hungry after the day I had, so I was heading out of my office in search of food. I chanced to meet Master Zachary, and he was so good as to invite me to tea.” He gave Anna his best pleading look. It had always worked on Mrs. Graham, but with Anna it was somewhat less reliable. “If you don’t object, of course.”
“You don’t mind, do you, Mam? He’s a bit dirty, but he seems a good sort.”
Edward and Anna both burst out laughing. “A bit dirty is an understatement, I think.” Edward looked down at the muddy clothes he had forgotten he was wearing. “But I am not so sure your mother would agree that I am a good sort.”
Anna sobered. “I haven’t yet decided.”
Zachary’s little head whipped from side to side as he watched this exchange, clearly puzzled. Edward stifled a sigh, now feeling rather annoyed with Anna.
“Your mother and I knew each other very well, a long time ago. I…I went away, and I am only recently back in England.”
“How did you get that scar?” Zachary asked. “Did you always have it?”
“No, he didn’t. How did you get that scar, Edward?”
“Pirates.” He focused on Zachary’s reaction and attempted to ignore Anna. The boy’s eyes widened, then he nodded in satisfaction.
“I knew it! I knew that it had to be pirates. You have that look about you.” Zachary sat at the table.
Edward sat across from him. “I look like I was attacked by pirates?”
Zachary cocked his head, thinking. For just a moment, it was like looking in a mirror. He glanced over at Anna, who seemed to have noticed it, too.
“No, not really. You look like you could be a pirate, if you were wearing different clothes,” Zachary said. “Your hair is dark, and your face is a bit scruffy.”
He heard a snort from Anna. He sighed. Apparently it was Pick on Edward Day. “It’s been rather a long day. Now where is our tea?”
Zachary seized on the notion of food, and the subject was effectively changed.
Anna added a place setting, refusing to meet his eyes, then plunked a meat pie on the table. She hesitated as if she wished to stay. Edward couldn’t tell if it was because she didn’t trust him with her son, or if she just wanted to join them. He hoped it was the latter. Finally she told them to get started and went downstairs to tend to her paying customers.
Edward relished the opportunity to spend time with Zachary. His son. In addition to the cock of the head, they shared other mannerisms. They even laughed the same way. By the time they had finished eating, Edward was filled with conflicting emotions. Zachary was funny, clever, and sweet-tempered. Edward was delighted to get to know him and immeasurably sad he had missed his first six years.
Anna stuck her head in the door. “Zachary, it’s time for bed. You have school tomorrow.”
She disappeared, and Zach wrinkled his nose. “I’d better be going, Mr. Mason. Mam will come back upstairs in fifteen minutes, and if I am not in bed she’ll be very cross.” He rose and carried his dishes to the sink, then washed them with the air of one who, even at age six, was accustomed to taking care of things himself.
“Do you not have a maid, or a governess?” Edward asked.
Zachary’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh no. It’s just me and Mam. Miss Margret used to stay with me when I was small, but now that I am big, I don’t need anyone to watch over me.”
Edward nodded. “I see.” He rose and took his own dishes to the sink. He knew that he ought to wash them but was embarrassed to admit to himself he had never done so. At home they had maids or Mrs. Graham. Then he was in prison, and a cook fed him and cleaned up after him. At sea they had a galley, which was tended by a boy and a cook. He was twenty-six years old, and he had never in his life washed a dish.
As if Zachary sensed this, he scooted in front of Edward. “I can do the washing up for you, since you’re a guest.”
The boy finished cleaning the dishes, while Edward watched, feeling utterly useless.
“Thank you, Zachary. It has been a pleasure dining with you. I hope we can do so again another time.”
Zachary dried his hands on a dishcloth, then very seriously shook Edward’s hand. Edward was oddly pleased to find the boy’s handshake was firmer than that of many grown men.
“Me too, Mr. Mason. Goodnight!” He turned and scampered away into one of the back rooms, magically transforming himself
into a child once again.
Edward went downstairs. He toyed with the idea of confronting Anna about her failure to tell the boy of his existence, but he hadn’t the energy. He could not face Anna now, and he was so very tired of wearing muddy clothes. He snuck out through the kitchen door when Anna was in the dining room and headed home to Tynemouth.
****
Anna found it impossible to concentrate. Edward was upstairs with her boy. She hadn’t told Zachary that Edward was his father, and there was no way Edward would not discern that. She had been unable to meet his eyes when she had served their dinner, and she’d been torn between wanting to keep them apart and needing to witness their first true conversation. She felt bad for not telling Zachary about his father, both for him and for Edward. And now she didn’t know if Edward would take it upon himself to say something. She didn’t think he would, but she wouldn’t blame him if he did.
She had gone upstairs to tell Zachary it was time for bed, but instead of going in, she stood outside the door for a few minutes. It was obvious he and Edward were having a lovely time. They were laughing and talking nonstop. She felt guilty, even a little jealous. She had not intentionally deprived Edward of his son, but after her first few letters went unanswered, she stopped writing. Maybe she should have tried harder. Maybe she should have had more faith in their love—he obviously had. But then his life had stood still for seven years, while hers had changed immeasurably.
She had returned downstairs for the rest of the evening, trusting Zachary would prepare for bed and Edward would wait for her, or come down to the pub. She alternately dreaded and anticipated being alone with him again.
She ended up closing the pub without an appearance either by Edward or by Mr. Weston. He had been appearing every day for months, just after last call. The fact he did not do so after being thrown out on his ear by Edward was troubling—she wondered what he was up to. As she trudged up the stairs, she steeled herself for another talk with Edward and hoped it would not result in more kissing. At least that’s what she told herself; her treacherous lips tingled in anticipation.
But when she let herself into her apartments, the kitchen and sitting room were empty, and Zachary was in bed, reading.
“Why are you still awake? And where is Edward? Mr. Mason, I mean.”
“He left.”
“Oh.” She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers ruffling his hair, damping down her disappointment.
“He’s ever so nice, Mam. We had a grand time.” Zachary’s eyelids began to flutter.
Anna smiled at her boy, her lovely boy who had just spent his first evening with his father. “I’m glad.” She paused, took the book from Zachary’s hand and set it on the nightstand. “Um, Zachary, darling, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Zachary’s head cocked just like Edward’s, as interest in what she wanted to tell him warred with sleep.
She took a deep breath, the words coming quickly before she could change her mind. “Mr. Mason is your father.”
Zachary nestled into the bedclothes and smiled sleepily.
“Good.” His eyelids fluttered one last time and closed. Within moments he was asleep.
Anna stayed on the bed, watching his little chest rise and fall, for a long time.
****
Edward arrived in Tynemouth without any more mishaps. He stepped into the warmth of the kitchen and inhaled the scent of roast chicken, parsnips, and apples. Damn, he thought. He forgot to send word that he was dining elsewhere. Mrs. Graham came into the kitchen and greeted him warmly. She was so cheerful, so pleased that she had someone to care for again, he hadn’t the heart to say he had already eaten.
Mrs. Graham’s cooking was just as good as it had ever been. He had thought he’d eaten his fill at Anna’s, but he managed to eat a quarter of the chicken, parsnips, potatoes, carrots, and a baked apple.
He leaned back in his chair, uncomfortably full and certain he was not going to be physically capable of walking up the stairs to his bedchamber. He would have been perfectly content, were it not for all the niggling worries fighting each other for dominance inside his head. His parents, Anna, the shipyards, his burned-out home; all had conspired to knock thoughts of his sister Theodora out of his mind, but now that he was full and sleepy, sitting in the kitchen where they had talked Mrs. Graham out of so many pastries, visions of Dora swam in front of his eyes.
“Mr. Graham. You told me Dora was involved in her husband’s death. Do you know any more than that?”
Graham sat back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. “According to the newspaper, Miss Theodora and her husband were in Durham, oh, maybe nine months ago now. Ravensdale was shot and killed. Miss Theodora was never charged with a crime. There was a lord there, too.” He looked thoughtful. “Longley, maybe? The Earl of Longley is from Durham.”
“Listen to you, Graham!” his wife exclaimed from the sink, where she was washing up. “Reading Burke’s Peerage in your spare time, dearie?”
The tips of the man’s prominent ears turned red. “And so what if I do?” he said, just a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. “We’ve been working for a peer for the last forty years, woman. There are things a butler should know.”
His wife harrumphed, and Edward grinned at both of them. “I am glad you’re reading it because I certainly haven’t. Do you think I should go see this Longley? He might have information on what happened to Theodora.”
“Can’t hurt,” Graham said. “And if you find her, bring her back home where she belongs.”
Chapter Eight
He stopped at the shipyard in the morning to make sure all was well. The new workers had already been hired, most of whom had worked for Edward’s father. He glanced at Anna’s pub on his way to the train station and was glad to have some more time to think before he saw Anna again. Even though his evening with his son had been delightful, he didn’t think he could do it again unless Zachary knew who he was. He wondered when—or if—Anna would ever be ready to tell him.
As the train pulled into the station at Durham, he gazed out the window at the Wear Valley and the magnificent cathedral that dominated the landscape. He got off and decided to have a bite to eat before he went looking for the Earl of Longley.
He asked directions to the nearest pub from the stationmaster, and a short while later was tucking into a ploughman’s lunch and a pint of cider. Since it was not quite the normal luncheon hour, the pub was fairly empty, and the bartender was chatty. Edward was happy to listen to him prattle on, and then something the man said stuck in his head.
“Excuse me, what did you say?”
“I was just remarking on the new baby they be expecting at the big house.”
“The big house?”
“Longley Hall. His lordship’s son, Viscount Caxton, wed a woman last year; big scandal it were.”
“What was scandalous about it?”
“What wasn’t scandalous?” The man chuckled. He rubbed a pint glass with a towel, apparently gathering his thoughts before he spoke again. “First, her ladyship, as she is now, arrived at Longley Hall with no notice, and nowt but a small satchel, in the dead of night. She were supposed to be the cook, and a right good one too, by all accounts.” He put the glass down and leaned over the bar to whisper conspiratorially. “But it turned out Milsom or whatever she called herself weren’t her real name. She were a married lady from London. She’d run away from her husband; tried to burn their house down, some said. Her husband came up here from London, a fancy barrister or some such. Killed a lady’s maid, then tried to kill his wife, but she shot him instead, and married the viscount.”
He smiled in satisfaction as Edward sat there with a pickle halfway to his mouth, and straightened, resuming his wiping of the glass.
Edward leaned back and put down his food. “Her ladyship. Do you know her real name?”
The bartender idly waved his dishtowel. “Summat odd, Thea summat or other. Frail looking thing; skin and bones, pale skin
and hair, like a raven’s wing.” He stopped and peered over the glass at Edward. “Looks a bit like you, truth be told, except for the scar, of course.”
Edward pulled some coins from his purse, threw them on the bar. He swallowed the rest of his cider and grinned. “That would be because she is my sister. Much obliged, my friend.” Edward bowed with a flourish and was amused to see that now the barkeep was the one with his mouth hanging open.
Within a few minutes, he had hired a horse and obtained directions to Longley Hall.
****
Edward managed to get quite lost—his sense of direction had always been pathetic—so did not arrive at Longley Hall until late evening. His knock was answered by a stern-looking butler with eyebrows so bushy Edward thought they might crawl off his forehead when Edward identified himself. The man instructed him to wait, but he was closer to his sister than he had been in seven years, so he followed quietly behind, toward a room to the left of the hall.
The butler opened the door and stepped in. Unaccountably nervous, Edward stood off to the side and took a deep breath. He was suddenly terrified that it wouldn’t be Dora. The story he’d heard was so fantastic it seemed improbable in the extreme.
“Lady Caxton,” the butler intoned. “There is a man at the door who claims to be your brother.” His tone suggested he didn’t believe a word of it.
Edward heard a woman gasp. “Edward!?”
Oh, thank God. “Dora!” He burst into the room behind the butler, who turned and protested at this utter lack of decorum. Theodora jumped up from her seat and rushed into his arms, tears now streaming from her eyes.
“Edward!” They held each other close for a few moments, until Theodora gently pulled away to look at him. “Oh, Edward. Where have you been?”
He laughed. “I think perhaps I could ask the same of you, Dora. I have been hearing such tales down the pub. And you are rather larger than the last time I saw you.” He pointedly looked down at her swollen belly.
Theodora gave him a stern look that would have had him quaking in his shoes when he was a lad, but this time it had no effect. She sighed and placed her hand on her abdomen. “There’s rather a lot to tell on my part, but you obviously have some explaining to do as well.” She pressed a finger along the scar on his face and grimaced.
Secret Promise Page 6