Windmera-Desperation

by Claudy Conn

  Heather jumped to her feet. “Mabe? End it? I could no more end it than end my life.”

  “Ye’ll get nowhere speaking sech to the vicar, m’darling girl,” Mabe said, and sighed as she shook her head. “Lord bless ye, I’ve a fondness for ye, but still…himself be another woman’s lawful man. Think on that if nothing else.”

  “But, Mabe…I have. It isn’t what you think…” Heather started to object and then cut herself off. At the kitchen door stood a small but hearty lad.

  Mabe’s son was thirteen, round-faced and round-eyed. He walked over to Heather and took her hand worshipfully. “Miss Heather, master saw ye coming down the walk. He says to have ye go to him in the study at once, but if ye don’t want to…if ye want to run away…I’ll gladly go with ye and protect ye, I will.”

  Mabe reached over and touched her son’s shoulder. “Whist with ye now putting such notions in Miss Heather’s head. Go on, young’un…off with ye now.”

  He lowered his head and shuffled out, but it was clear when he turned and gave Heather a long look that he was concerned and ready to help her.

  Heather bolstered herself as she made ready to face her uncle. Before she left, Mabe hurried to turn her and throw her arms around her. “Never ye mind, love…matters of the heart have a habit of working out in the end. He will berate ye, ye tell him ye regret what ye’ve done…tell him ye were an innocent and taken advantage of…tell…”

  “No, how can I do that, Mabe? It would be a lie,” Heather said, and left the cook at her back. Every instinct told her that she was in peril.

  She walked slowly down the long narrow hall, up the two steps to the main hall, down its length and across its width to the study door where she stopped. She took a moment to compose herself as she smoothed her modest, blue day gown, lifted her chin and knocked.

  She knew her uncle despised her. It was the only ‘feeling’ he had ever displayed in her regard. She knew why. She knew she was so like her mother in appearance that he couldn’t bear to be in the same room with her. He had never forgiven her mother for refusing his suit and marrying his brother, and now here she was…accused of being immoral, and it was not a lie.

  His voice was harsh. “Come in and close the door tightly at your back, girl!”

  Heather obeyed meekly. What else could she do? She had sunk their household into shame. How this Abernathy woman found out she could not tell, but somehow she had.

  He eyed her, his expression accusing, his lips forming a sneer. “Is it true?”

  That was all he asked. He knew that she knew what he was asking. She could lie. She perhaps should lie.

  She wondered why he bothered to ask, for he obviously believed what he had been told. She put up her chin and said, “Yes, it is.” She was surprised at the calm she felt.

  He sat back. “Faith preserve me,” he breathed on a hushed note. “I have nurtured a creature of Satan!”

  “No, you have not nurtured a creature of Satan, for you have not nurtured anyone,” Heather snapped back. “You have scarcely spoken more than a word now and then to me since I arrived.”

  “Quiet!” he snapped, and his fist pounded his desk, making her jump. “You stand before me, boldly admitting the foulest behavior without blushing, without shading your eyes from mine?”

  “No, Uncle, I do not admit to behavior most foul,” she answered gravely. She had no idea where she found the strength to face him down.

  “Of your own free will you have just confessed…”

  She cut him off, “You asked me if it were true. I assumed you meant is it true that I, Heather Martin, love Godwin of Ravensbury. Yes, that is true and I cannot admit it to be foul!”

  “You play with words? You stand here feeling no shame and…” He appeared, in that moment, to be overcome as he pounded the table again with his fist. “You have participated in clandestine meetings with his lordship, and yet claim you have done nothing evil? Your actions are only surpassed in wickedness by your attitude.”

  “I am not playing with words or trying to win an argument, sir. You asked me how it was I did not blush, did not hide my eyes by looking at you directly when I answered. You call my lack of shame wickedness…but I cannot call it wicked that I love Godwin. Nay, I am proud of it.”

  How could she make him understand what Godwin had gone through since he discovered Sara had married him on a pretext? She could not without giving away a confidence, and besides, her uncle still would not understand. Her uncle obviously thought Godwin a libertine and she a wicked woman.

  “You find nothing shameful in engaging in unlawful fornication with a man who is wedded to another? It is adultery!” He frowned after a pause, and added, “I can see his lordship has taken advantage of you…and still, your upbringing should have…”

  She cut him off, furious that he should criticize her beloved. “Nay…he took no unfair advantage.”

  “Ah, you are blinded,” he said grimly.

  She did not answer. What was the use?

  He added, “Aha, finally, I have succeeded in making you see!”

  “No, I don’t see at all,” she said, and not cowered, she put up her chin. “We will never agree on this point.”

  Her retort, her unwavering attitude burned through him. “By my faith!” he shouted. “Ravensbury is a married man. Does that not mean anything to you?”

  “Yes, had she been a good woman and he happily married I would cut out my heart before I would allow myself to come between them. That is not the case. You speak from your pulpit of evil. Why would God have put me in Godwin’s path if he had not meant for us to meet, to love?” Did she believe those words? She wasn’t sure.

  “To test you…as God tests us all the time, and you have failed,” he snapped.

  “God is good and you are wrong!” she shouted.

  “You are mad and I have heard enough!” He stood, and she thought for a moment he was going to slap her. He fisted his hands at his sides. “I had hoped to bring you to your senses before sending you away. I see that it is impossible, which only strengthens my resolve that I am right in my decision.”

  His words struck her a blow and she chided herself. What did she think he would do? Why hadn’t she foreseen this would be his solution? He had never wanted her at the vicarage and this gave him good cause to get rid of her.

  She thought he would try and extract a promise from her to stop seeing Godwin. She had been ready for that, even meant to give it, knowing that soon she and Godwin would be together.

  She gasped. “You cannot mean it?”

  “Indeed, you leave me no choice. I am told that it is Lady Ravensbury’s wish that I send you elsewhere, and without her patronage, there would be no vicarage,” he said, and sat down heavily in his chair.

  “But…Uncle?” she said.

  “Uncle? Do not call me that. You shame me. I have had your aunt pack your bags, and have put a pouch of bills in your purse. It should be enough to see you back to your Devon residence and keep you until you can apply to receive your competence there. If you are frugal, the money should last until you find work. I had sent for you believing I was doing my duty, believing you were but a maid in need of protection. I looked to the proprieties, but you are an ingrate. I can have no scruples regarding your future. I have no niece. You are to me less than a stranger.”

  He was sending her home. Thank goodness there had been just enough inheritance to maintain her small home while she was gone. She had thought he might send her off under guard somewhere, someplace where she would have difficulty escaping. Such was his nature. His decision to send her back to Devon made her sigh with relief.

  So he and her aunt would no longer be a part of her life. What was in that? They had never been a part of her life. She would have no family, but she would have her child and Godwin. It was all she needed.

  Also, her uncle obviously didn’t know about the cottage Godwin maintained in the woods—she would go there, and not to Devon!

  She would take her bags
and what coins her aunt had packed away for her and leave immediately on foot. It would take her less than twenty minutes to walk back there.

  “You are what you are,” she told her uncle. “Society is what it is. I am not governed by such things. I know what is truly right and wrong. Happiness was a thing denied to his lordship because of Sara. Happiness was denied to you because my mother did not choose you over your brother…” She saw the shock and anger on his face.

  “Yes, Uncle, I know. You wanted my mother and hate me because I look so much like her. There is a reason she chose your brother, and we both know what it was. Heart. He had heart and you do not. You treat your wife like a servant and you treat your servants like slaves. You say you are a man of God, but I believe God knows better. What you are is a bitter old man, and you will never know true happiness.”

  She turned and slowly, shoulders straight, started to walk out of the room. She turned when she opened the door and inclined her head. “Goodbye, Uncle.”

  He watched her leave. The door closed at her back. Her words had struck a nerve. For a moment, he thought back to his youth. Had he ever known happiness? Yes, as a young man…the first time he had spent an afternoon with Heather’s mother. How her smile had lit him up and made him believe he could do anything…be anything. But then his brother had entered the picture and she had eyes for no other.

  Damn the girl!

  And even he knew not which girl he spoke of. Perhaps both.

  ~ Six ~

  THE DAY HAD PROGRESSED, SHE would soon accomplish her goals, Sara thought with a smile that was cold and calculating. She was proud of herself. She had accomplished so very much in so little time.

  She sat her horse well, her dark blue riding hat atop her yellow curls was angled fashionably. Her blue riding jacket hugged her body and her matching skirt flowed dramatically over her bay horse’s glistening body.

  Two men rode toward her. She urged her horse forward to meet them. One of the two men was well known to her and when their eyes met, she smiled.

  He sidled his horse up beside her own and leaned in to say, “My lady, looking lovely as ever today.”

  She merely inclined her head. “I have had quite a day and am anxious to get it all sewn up right and tight,” she answered. Indeed, first she had visited with the dower Mrs. Abernathy, who had been surprised by her visit but greedy to hear the gossip. She had made a show of distress while she told her tale of woe. Sara had been clever enough to allow the widow to think going to the vicar with this information was her idea. She even demurred saying she had no wish to upset the vicar and allowed Mrs. Abernathy to insist.

  The veil of Sara’s riding hat was drawn across her face, as immediately upon leaving Mrs. Abernathy she rode into town and made her way to the weathered and not quite reputable establishment known as the Cat & Fiddle.

  Sara tensed as she looked around, for she did not wish to be seen. Satisfied that none of the local country gentry were about, she meandered into the tavern and drew quite a few looks her way, as it was not the sort of establishment a lady of quality frequented.

  It was there that she and Colin saw one another.

  She did not know who he was, but immediately had the feeling that he would be just the person to help her. Later, she would discover he knew who she was.

  Even now, looking at him, she was well pleased with her choice.

  He had been bold when he got up from his chair and walked over to her and said, “My lady, may I escort you to a quiet corner?”

  She had inclined her head and allowed him to do so.

  They sat for a moment and he said, “What do you need, my lady?”

  “More than you can imagine,” she answered, flirting with her eyes and her tone.

  She was well pleased at his reaction, for he sucked in air and bent in closer. “Whatever my lady needs, I am ready.”

  He looked like a rugged sailor, yet he had breeding and his English was genteel. His manners were intriguing as he seemed a rogue, but was he up to what she needed him to do? He put up his hand to the tavern keeper and asked her, “Ale?”

  She inclined her head, thinking, why not?

  Sara asked, “What is your name?”

  “Colin, and as I said, no need to tell me yours,” he answered.

  The ale was delivered and he toasted her silently before taking a long swig. She sipped at hers and for a moment she felt free, wild, and young. It was as though she were seventeen, meeting Raoul on the cliffs.

  Was she now about to pass the boundary of wrong into evil? Perhaps.

  She knew that the vicar would banish Heather from his home. She knew him, had endured his boring conversations, and because he was dependent on her good offices for his continued presence at the vicarage.

  Yes, the vicar would no doubt send his niece away, but that would not solve her problem. Godwin would follow and find her and be angrier than ever. No, she had no choice but to proceed with her most intricate plans.

  “Colin, I should like to hire some men,” she whispered. “For a very special job. Discretion is utterly important.”

  “I’m your man, then,” Colin answered

  La, was she making a mistake? This man knew her. If she left now, she would be safe, but Heather Martin would also be safe. She couldn’t have that.

  She had to go through with her plan.

  The tavern keeper returned at that moment and said, “Madam…perhaps ye would like a table alone, or better yet, I can recommend another tavern more suited to the likes of ye.”

  “Well, Jenkins, mayhap you don’t understand that the lady is quite comfortable here…with me.” Colin inclined his head and asked, “Aren’t you, my lady?”

  “Yes, thank you…er, Jenkins,” Sara answered. What was she doing? What? She would go to hell for this? Well, hell in the afterlife was uncertain…if she didn’t do this, if she didn’t ruin Heather, she would be ruined. Easy choice.

  Jenkins, the tavern owner frowned but seemed to wash his hands of the situation as he walked off and returned to ordering his barmaid about.

  “Well then, my lady, how can I be of service?” Colin asked.

  Sara hesitated.

  Colin lowered his voice, “Is it protection you are looking to hire…for a journey? If so, my men and I are at your beck and call.”

  “You say your name is Colin. That isn’t enough. Your speech is that of an educated Englishman from the north, I think, and yet you have the sea written all over you. Just who are you, Colin?” she asked quietly.

  “Ah, very astute. Yes, I am from the north and I am the third son of a squire whose estates are to let. I took to the sea—the navy, and when I sold out, my love of the sea suggested there was a living to be had transporting goods to and fro.” He eyed her. “Now, what is your need of me and my men?”

  “Are you saying you are a smuggler?” Sara already suspected this, but she wanted to gage his reaction.

  “Aye, ye could say that we are,” Colin answered with a grin. “Bred a gentleman but born for the sea and the excitement it has provided.”

  “And, of course, one must survive and a third son doesn’t always have choices,” Sara said, not because she cared, but because she was still taking stock of him.

  “Exactly,” he said.

  “I think I have seen you before, in the village,” she said as they exchanged a long glance at one another.

  “Indeed, though we have never been properly introduced, we have on occasion passed one another here and there. I am Colin Falwell, and I would appreciate it if you would tell me what it is you need, as I would very much like to give it to you,” he said with a smirk and a slight bow of his head.

  “I am not sure you are just the sort of gentleman for the job,” she started doubtfully.

  “Oh, but I am exactly what you need,” he interrupted. “My crew…and I are at the moment in-between…gainful employment, and I would be happy to serve you in any manner you deem fit.”

  She laughed. “Very well.�
� She was attracted to Colin. He brought out the flirt in her immediately. “Perhaps you may be in a position…to…er…please me.”

  He grinned and reached for her gloved hand. She allowed it.

  He rose from the table and pulled her along. “Let us take a stroll out back, where we can be more private and you can draw less attention.”

  She rose and a thrill swept over her as he slipped his arm around her waist. He gave her a squeeze as he led her out the tavern’s back door to a small stone bench.

  He saw her seated and sat beside her. “That is better, as I am certain you would not have wanted the luncheon crowd to take note of your presence.”

  “Oh, no…is it that time already?” she said, momentarily distressed. She would have to hurry.

  He lifted her chin and their eyes met as desire flared at his touch. She hadn’t been stirred like this in a long time. It had been months and months and then she had only a few stolen moments with one of the sturdy stable hands, which had proven inadequate to her needs.

  She had come to the town of Penzance with only business in mind, but this good-looking rogue had reminded her that she was a desirable woman, and she liked the sensation it aroused.

  Colin led her out the back door and through an ill-kept garden to a dirt path before he said, “Now, my lady, tell me what troubles you and how I may alleviate that trouble.”

  She felt his dark eyes penetrate hers and then travel over her body. She liked him, indeed, she liked everything about him.

  “Do you have men you can trust?” she asked.

  “I do, my sweet, I do,” he answered.

  “I shall require your services and those of your crew,” she said carefully. “You will need to work both on land and at sea.” How fitting, she thought, that Colin should have introduced himself to her. How convenient. It was as though the fates smiled on her grand plan.