Under The Wishing Star

by Farr, Diane

  Hector and Mabel’s startled butler showed them into Crosby Hall’s drawing room. The room fell quiet while they waited for Hector to join them. The squire took a post by the fire, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and a very sober expression on his face. Derek stood at the opposite side of the fireplace, leaning one arm on the mantle and staring moodily into the flames. Mrs. Gilford seated Mrs. Whittaker on a comfortable sofa and took her place beside her, the only member of the company maintaining an air of cheerful calm. Natalie perched nervously on the edge of a settee. Malcolm sat beside her, holding her hand and wishing it were permissible to place his arm around her. She seemed to find the grip of his hand comforting, but she still trembled a little.

  “This is a terrible business,” she whispered to him. “I shall be glad when it is over. Poor Hector!”

  He squeezed her hand sympathetically. “Do not distress yourself, sweetheart. Let Derek and me handle it.” She gave a silent nod of acquiescence, then looked up at the door as a footstep sounded in the passage outside.

  Hector entered, wreathed in false smiles. One sharp glance around the room, however, and his air of forced bonhomie grew even more false. It was plain he smelled a rat. Malcolm rose courteously to his feet to shake Hector’s hand, but Squire Farnsworth cut through their host’s overly-jovial attempts to greet them all in turn.

  “Sorry, lad,” said the squire, with an air both kind and blunt. “But your welcome is misplaced. We’ve some news to impart that I fear will come as a shock to you. Eh, it’s been a shock to us all—but to you it will be more than that.”

  He tried to wave Hector toward a chair, but Hector stood his ground near the door. His eyes narrowed as he looked from face to face. “What is it? You had better tell me at once.”

  The squire looked distressed. Malcolm stepped into the breach, laying a friendly hand on Hector’s arm. “The squire’s idea is a good one, Hector. Sit down, and we’ll all—”

  But Hector shook his hand off impatiently. “What, will you tell me to be seated in my own home?” he jeered. “I can hear you as well where I am as in a chair. What the devil is it?”

  Malcolm shrugged. Hector made it difficult to feel much sympathy for him. “Very well,” he said coolly. “I will tell you, if you insist. Mrs. Gilford, pray allow me to present to you Hector Whittaker, ostensibly your host. Hector, this lady is Mrs. Gilford. She is a nurse, and the lady beside her is her charge: Mrs. Whittaker.”

  Hector’s head went up like an animal scenting danger. “Mrs. Whittaker? Who is she? A relation of ours?” He looked at her again. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She doesn’t speak, sir,” said Mrs. Gilford placidly.

  Natalie rose shakily to her feet. “I will tell him,” she said, pity in her voice.

  Malcolm moved protectively to her side. Warning bells were ringing in his blood; Hector was dangerously volatile. “Be careful, Natalie,” he said, under his breath. “Don’t put your foot in the hornet’s nest.”

  “Malcolm’s right,” said Derek. “Sit down, Natalie. I’ll tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” Hector’s voice was sharp with suppressed fear.

  Natalie did not sit down, but she buried her face in Malcolm’s shoulder. He held her silently, wishing, for the hundredth time, that he could protect her from this scene.

  Derek walked forward, his face impassive, and stood behind Mrs. Whittaker. He placed one hand on her shoulder. “This lady is my mother,” he said simply.

  Hector cocked his head, looking puzzled for a moment. Then the fear returned to his eyes. His face turned a sickly hue. “Your mother? That’s impossible. She’s dead.”

  “No, sir,” said Mrs. Gilford gently. “She’s not herself, but she’s alive. As you can see.”

  The squire coughed. “I must tell you, lad, that I recognized her at once. This lady is, indeed, the first Mrs. Whittaker.” He looked flustered. “That is—”

  “She is the only Mrs. Whittaker,” said Derek quietly. “I’m sorry, Hector.”

  Hector looked stunned. His eyes darted frantically from face to face. “What—what—what do you mean?” he stammered. “What—”

  Natalie lifted her head, her composure returning. “Hector, do sit down,” she said. Her voice was soft with compassion. “You’ll make yourself ill. I nearly fainted when they broke the news to me, and to me it was good news.”

  He stared at her, his jaw slack, his expression uncomprehending.

  The squire cleared his throat. “Whether you sit down or no,” he said gruffly, “it’s my duty to proceed.” His voice took on the measured tones of authority. “Hector Alphonse Whittaker, you are in possession of property that lawfully belongs to your half-brother. Will you relinquish it voluntarily, or must I evict you by force?”

  “What?” The squire’s words seemed to pierce the trance that had seized young Hector. His head whipped around to gape, wild-eyed, at Jasper Farnsworth. “Evict me? You’re mad.”

  Malcolm felt a tremor run through his wife. He tightened his arm around Natalie as the squire raised a warning hand. “Now, now, lad, let’s be civilized. We’re all gentlemen here. All reasonable men. No need to dramatize the situation. No need to go off half-cocked. All I’m saying is, you must leave Crosby Hall —at least for the present, while things are straightened out. If you think for half a moment, you’ll see the wisdom of that. I advise you to cooperate. I put it higher, lad: I strongly advise you to cooperate. We are all sensible of what you must be feeling this day, but fact is fact, and the law is the law.”

  Hector spat out a word so foul that Natalie flinched. “You fat, miserable toad,” he shrieked, livid. “You can’t evict me from my own home.”

  The squire’s head lowered like a bull’s. “It is not your home, and I certainly can,” he rumbled. “Get ahold of yourself, Whittaker. I’m warning you.”

  “They’ve always had it in for me!” cried Hector, waving an index finger wildly back and forth at Derek and Natalie. “This is some kind of conspiracy, I tell you—some kind of trick! They’ve always been ready to do me a mischief if they could. They’re jealous of me. Jealous!”

  Derek and Malcolm exchanged glances. “I think it might be better if you escorted the ladies upstairs, Malcolm,” said Derek quietly. “I’ll put Mother in her old room, and Mrs. Gilford in the adjoining chamber. Natalie, you know the rooms I mean. Would you lead the way?”

  “Of course,” said Natalie automatically. Mrs. Gilford rose obediently to her feet.

  “I won’t have it!” shouted Hector. His face had gone from white to red with fury. “I won’t have them under this roof! You can bloody well take them to Larkspur—this, this imposter, this fraud, and, and, and, the fubsy-faced old biddy with her! I want them out of my house! Out of my house!”

  Natalie’s eyes flashed, but she wisely said nothing. Everyone behaved exactly as if Hector had not spoken. He continued to rave as Malcolm held the door and assisted Mrs. Gilford and Natalie’s mother through it. He was very glad to close the door behind them. They could still hear Hector ranting and the squire’s brusque voice reprimanding him, but at least Malcolm knew he was removing the ladies from further insults.

  Natalie led them up the stairs. For a few seconds, they climbed the steps in silence. Then Mrs. Gilford gave an indignant sniff. “Fubsy-faced,” she muttered. “Well! I never.”

  Chapter 24

  The sun hung low in the sky when Malcolm and Natalie left Crosby Hall and walked, arm in arm, toward home. Home. How quickly she had grown used to thinking of Larkspur as home! It must have something to do with the accelerated pace of the past few weeks. She had now had so much experience at absorbing rapid changes, she was becoming adept at bending with the wind.

  But, to her, home would always be wherever Malcolm was. She glanced up at him, her heart filled with love and gratitude. This amazing, wonderful man had ridden into her life like a rescuing knight and, from the moment he arrived, her world had irretrievably changed.

  Hi
s face was very serious, and a little tired as he stared into the distance, but she fancied he had lost the haunted look that had so troubled her. She hoped so, at any rate. She loved to think that she had brought him a little of the happiness he had brought her.

  “Malcolm.”

  His eyes refocused and he looked down at her, smiling a little. “Yes?”

  “What happened just now? After you left us in Mother’s room.”

  His smile faded. “It was not a pleasant scene. Suffice it to say that Hector was persuaded, in the end, to leave. He and Mabel will be spending the night at the village inn. Jasper Farnsworth supervised the packing of their bags.”

  “Oh, that was clever.”

  “So I thought. And prudent, too. There’s no telling what might have found its way into Hector’s valise, had he been left to his own devices.”

  Natalie sighed. “I hope we are misjudging him, but I fear you are right.”

  “At any rate, better safe than sorry. The squire bundled them into your brother’s gig for transport to the inn, and promised to send a team of reinforcements tomorrow to supervise their further packing.” Malcolm gave a droll little chuckle. “I hope they are sturdy fellows. I shudder to picture what Hector might attempt, after he has had an entire night to plot and scheme.”

  She looked back up at him. “How did Mabel react?” she asked softly. “I must tell you, Malcolm, I feel sincerely sorry for her.”

  “Yes.” He looked troubled. “She was completely silent, poor thing. We were all grateful to be spared a bout of hysterics, but it was pitiful to see her so dazed. She married Hector believing him to possess a fair estate and a fair name. This is the worst possible time for her to discover that he has neither. She is within a few weeks, I would say, of delivering his child.”

  “Derek must do something for her.”

  “Yes. I think he will.” He slanted a small smile down at her. “He’s really an estimable young man. I am growing fond of Derek.”

  Her heart gave a happy little skip. Another wish had just come true. “I’m so glad.”

  They had entered the narrow band of woods where the creek ran. Malcolm held a branch high for Natalie to pass beneath, then led her up onto the footbridge, where he stopped her. She looked up at him, laughing. “What is it? For heaven’s sake, don’t push me in the water. Or slip a frog down my back.”

  He grinned. “You have spent too much time down here with your brothers. No, I am going to do something I have wanted to do since the first moment I saw this bridge.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  Natalie sighed with happiness and gave herself utterly to his kiss. A breeze ruffled the hair at the back of her neck and caused the trees overhead to whisper and dance. The water beneath the wooden planks chuckled and sang. Heaven.

  When the kiss ended, she laid her cheek against his shoulder and relaxed, filled with contentment. “Very romantic,” she murmured.

  His arms slipped more snugly around her. “Yes, I thought it would be.”

  She smiled against his coat. “You couldn’t have wanted to do that when you first saw this bridge. You barely knew me then.”

  He shifted his body so he could take her face in his hands, then tilted it upward, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were so strange…still the color of a frozen lake, but burning with intensity.

  “I wanted to,” he said softly. “Very much. Don’t you remember, Natalie? I asked you to marry me the day we met. I’d been waiting so long for you, I recognized you almost the instant you entered my life.”

  Natalie felt her breath catch. The world seemed to fade like a dream upon waking, leaving her alone in a universe that contained only herself and Malcolm Chase. She could hear her heart beating.

  “Natalie,” he said hoarsely. “I know you wanted to fall in love one day. You told me at the outset that you didn’t want to marry until you did. I took that away from you, and I’m sorry. Is there any chance, sweetheart, that I could make it up to you? Is there any chance you could fall in love with a man who was already your husband?”

  Natalie felt her knees start to buckle. This was more than a wish come true. This was a miracle.

  She forced herself to stand upright. She would not collapse into his arms and weep all over his coat. She wanted to see his face. She did not want to miss this moment. And there was something, one small thing, that needed clarification.

  “You told me love was undesirable in marriage.” Her voice sounded high and breathless.

  “I was wrong.” His fingers traced her cheekbones, achingly tender. “I was wrong.”

  He kissed her again. Natalie’s emotions rose up in an engulfing tide. She clung to him, riding the waves of feeling. Tears stained her cheeks. Finally she tore her lips away, choking on a sob. “Malcolm. Oh, Malcolm.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “I could never marry a man I didn’t love. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know that about me?” She lifted her head and raised her shining eyes to his. “I love you with all my heart.”

  Afterward, she was never certain how long they stayed on the bridge, exchanging hearts. Time was meaningless in paradise. But eventually they returned, if not entirely to Earth, at least close enough to it to resume their journey home. Malcolm had suggested that they continue their conversation in the privacy of their bedchamber. This had struck Natalie as an excellent idea, so they wandered blissfully toward Larkspur, arms wound around each other in a way that was brazenly indiscreet. Neither Malcolm nor Natalie cared who saw them. They could not bother with such mundane considerations while in the thrall of so much bliss.

  As luck would have it, just as they were about to climb the stairs to their rooms, Natalie’s eyes fell on a small, neatly-wrapped parcel lying on the hall table. Her eyes widened in amazement. “Already?” she exclaimed.

  “What is it?” Malcolm nuzzled the top of her head. He didn’t sound very interested in the parcel.

  “Something I ordered in London,” murmured Natalie, torn between desire to continue upstairs with her husband and curiosity to open the package.

  “You can show it to me later.” He tugged gently at her hand.

  “Yes,” said Natalie absently. “Later.” But now the unfinished business of the morning reared its head, distracting her. She had put off telling Malcolm where she had taken Sarah in London. She could not delay that conversation much longer.

  He sensed her hesitation and paused, lifting an eyebrow at her. “Is it so important?”

  “It is important,” she admitted. She studied him, uncertain where to begin. Halfway up the stairs seemed an odd place to tell him. “You never asked me where I took Sarah, that last morning in London,” she blurted.

  Silent laughter shook him. “And you want to tell me now?”

  “I must tell you sometime.”

  “Very well.” He shrugged agreeably. “Where did you take her? Shopping, I thought you said.”

  “Well, actually, it was you who said that,” said Natalie apologetically. “And since we had visited a milliner, Sarah was not telling you an untruth when she confirmed it. But we had not set out to purchase a hat.”

  A certain wariness flitted across Malcolm’s features. “Natalie, what is it? You look as if you feel guilty about something.”

  “I do.” She glanced hastily behind her. It would not do to have the servants overhear them. “Come into the library with me,” she urged. “For just a moment, Malcolm. I promise.” She darted downstairs, snatched up the parcel, led the way into the library, and closed the door behind them.

  “Well, this is all very mysterious.” He did not sit, but leaned against the back of a tall chair, crossing one ankle over the other and watching her with hooded eyes. She could feel at once that he had withdrawn from her. She didn’t blame him. “What’s in the package?”

  She took a deep breath and leaned her back against the closed door, holding the parcel before her with both hands. “Spectacles.”

  “What?” He stared at her.
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  “Oh, I wish there had been time to think out what I would say,” exclaimed Natalie wretchedly. “I never dreamed the package would arrive so quickly. Pray, pray, hear me out.”

  “I’m listening.” He looked stunned.

  She walked up to him and laid a pleading hand on his sleeve. “Malcolm,” she said in a low voice, “you have always been so protective of Sarah. I know you are sensitive to any…flaws people perceive in her. But this is different.” When he was unresponsive, she shook his sleeve a little. “This has nothing to do with her mind,” she said urgently. “Indeed, we both know there is nothing wrong with Sarah’s brain. She’s cleverer than most children are at her age. Why, she reads beautifully, and draws, and paints, and sews—she’s remarkable.”

  Her eyes searched his frantically, begging for a response. She could not read their expression. His thoughts were utterly hidden from her. His eyes were blank and shuttered. “Malcolm,” she said, her voice breaking. “She can’t see. I took her to the finest optician in London. Our little Sarah can’t see.”

  Suddenly Malcolm brought both hands up and covered his face. His whole body went rigid with tension. “No,” was all he said. It was a groan of disbelief.

  Natalie hastened to reassure him. “Oh, she can tell light from dark, and she can see colors. But…apparently the world is all a blur to her.”

  “Dear God.” He dropped his hands. His features were hard and set in lines of anguish. Disbelief. Self-reproach.

  As if he could not bear for her to witness his emotion, he walked away from her and stood by the window with his back to the room. “Oh, dear God.” The words sounded like prayer, not curse.