by Carla Kelly
You’ve been nothing but trouble, but what can I do? she asked herself, glancing at Rob, who slept. If I give up and return to the bakery by myself, you’ll be sent back to Dartmoor.
She looked away. It was almost tempting never to think of Rob Inman or Nantucket again. She leaned back, her eyes closed, struck with the notion that maybe Lady Tutt was right: she had slipped. The worst of it wasn’t the decline in her social status, but the death of hope, which had perished with her father. How a prisoner on parole—and not even the right one—could bring that back, Grace had no idea. But he had. Maybe hope was more uncomfortable than social slippage. Something heavy in her heart told her that if she lost hope again, it would never return.
She looked at Rob again. His eyes were open now.
‘You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world,’ he said.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she replied frankly.
He took her hand and looked at it, as though he wanted to kiss it. ‘You’ve kept me alive. You’ve given me something to do. I’ve done nothing in return.’
He didn’t release her hand until she moved her fingers. Suddenly it was too much. She moved closer to her side of the carriage, away from him. ‘Rob—Daniel—Captain—what you’ve done is make me vastly discontent with my lot!’
He looked away. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘Well, you have,’ she said, trying to control the shaking in her voice. ‘I’m living on sufferance in a dower house, worrying over thirty pounds per annum—thirty pounds!—and you tell me how wonderful Nantucket is. I could thump you for that!’
‘Thump away,’ he said softly, moving closer and turning his shoulder to her.
Aghast at herself, she burst into tears, covering her face with her hands and trying to make herself small in the carriage. Rob reached for her. She slapped his arm as hard as she could, then did it again.
‘Shame on you, Rob Inman!’ she declared, wondering where all this anger came from. ‘I was going to work, buy that bakery and then work harder, with no more expectations.’ She stopped for breath.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
She punched him again. ‘You made me think, even for a tiny moment, that I should want more than that.’ She scrubbed at her eyes, wishing her tears would stop. ‘That there is a place where people would accept me for who I am, not remember who I was!’
She knew she should stop, but she plunged on, scarcely aware of what she was saying. ‘That maybe someone—who, I don’t know—might even marry me.’
‘Someone might,’ he said. ‘It’s quite likely.’
‘Stop it!’ she said, her hands over her ears. ‘You’re just a prisoner of war. A…a mere sailing master! What do you know about anything? I am a baronet’s daughter! You’re nobody, from the Pool of London!’
What she had said was so rude that it took her breath away. The smallest glance in Rob’s direction showed how hurt he was. Appalled, she at last had the wit to be silent.
The bonecracker stopped then, letting them out at the junction where their journey had begun that morning. It was dark now. Too embarrassed to wait for the coachman to help her down, Grace leaped from the carriage and ran. She couldn’t remember a time when she had shed so many tears and showed off her own arrogance so thoroughly, she who had nothing left to be arrogant about. She had insulted the one person, aside from the Wilsons, she could rightfully call a friend.
I’m a fool, she told herself, as she pounded along the footpath by the highway. Maybe before she threw herself on her bed for a good cry, she would write to the elusive Mr Selway and demand that he take Captain Duncan off her hands. ‘He can find another keeper,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t do this. Rob Inman brings out the worst in me.’
That wasn’t it, she had to admit. Whether meaning to or not, her parolee had made her think that she could be more, when she had lost hope. She sobbed out loud. And I insulted him so cruelly, she thought, flogging herself mentally. What was I thinking?
Grace stopped suddenly. She had left the captain by the junction and it wasn’t Lord Thomson’s land. Anything could happen to him. She started back down the road, her heart in her mouth.
There he was, trudging along the footpath, his head down. Ashamed of herself for her outburst, she waited for him. He didn’t see her yet, but there he was, making his way back to the estate of someone he despised, to continue his parole in a country he couldn’t wait to leave, at the mercy of a rude woman, one who had no business being pretentious, who had flung his own low origins in his face. Her face burned with shame.
Something happened to her heart in that small space between the time she watched and the time he saw her. She could have explained it to no one, because she didn’t understand it. Rob Inman was more than someone she had grudgingly agreed to help until a war ended. He had become the only man she would ever love in her whole life. Maybe it had been coming on gradually; she didn’t know, because she generally kept too busy to indulge in idle fancy. But there he was, still on the thin side: a man who had dropped into her life, because of an impulsive decision on her part.
He didn’t know it, obviously, but she did. And here it ends, because I am the fool, she told herself. I doubt he can forgive such rudeness. I know I couldn’t.
She stood still, overriding emotions she had never expected to feel, wondering if there were enough words in the English language to take away the hurt she had just hurled at a decent, kind man.
‘I am so sorry,’ she said, her voice small, when he came to her. ‘It’s not your fault that you miss your home and you’d rather be away from this wretched island. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was inexcusable.’
He raised his head to look at her and Grace was mortified to see tears in his eyes.
‘I had no call to behave that way. Forgive me, Rob.’
If he had walked on past her, she wouldn’t have been surprised. If he never said another word to her, she would have understood. Instead, he put his hands gently on her shoulders and drew her close to him. With another sob, her arms went around him and she clung to him, racked by those horrible deep sobs again.
‘Gracie, you’re my only friend,’ he said finally, making no effort to distance himself from her misery. ‘Don’t make it so hard.’
Your friend, she thought. I will learn to be content with that, because I must. How could you possibly forgive what I said?
Grace said nothing. Rob kept one arm protectively around her shoulders and walked with her. This man is powerless and he is protecting me, she thought in awe.
Silent now, they passed the manor, where more lights burned than this morning. Ugly Butler was outlined in the window, watching the road.
‘Fooled you this time,’ Rob said. He had the effrontery to wave, which made Grace swallow in sudden fright. The silhouetted figure at the window turned away quickly. ‘Oops, made him angry. I’m all a-tremble, Gracie.’
She looked at him, her frown back, her fear there again. ‘Let’s not make him angrier than he already is,’ she suggested.
‘You’re probably right. I mean, he might send me back to Dartmoor.’
‘Don’t even tease about that!’ Grace said.
He squeezed her shoulder. ‘A minute ago, you stormed off and left me to my fate at the junction,’ he reminded her.
‘I still want my thirty pounds a year, because I’m ambitious,’ she said gruffly, which made him laugh, to her relief. She had ruined things, but there wasn’t any need for him to know how badly.
* * *
Emery wasn’t laughing. Grace had never seen a more wounded expression and, underneath it, more irritation than worry, or so it seemed to her.
‘I didn’t know where either of you was,’ he said, as he gestured toward the kitchen, trying to look dignified.
‘We went to Exeter to find Mr Selway,’ Grace said, as Emery dished out the ragout she had made yesterday.
‘What did he have to say?’ Emery asked, sitting down with his own bowl.
‘We couldn’t find him. No one has heard of him,’ she said.
As she spoke, she glanced at Rob, who was seated beyond Emery. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
‘I’ll…I’ll just write to Mr Selway,’ she concluded, turning her attention to the ragout. She understood Rob Inman’s worry. Maybe it was best to keep Emery in the dark. The less he knew, the less likely Ugly Butler could worm anything out of him.
‘What is that man’s name?’ Grace asked. ‘We’ve been calling him Ugly Butler. You worked for Lord Thomson—surely you know his name, Emery?’
‘Ugly Butler?’ The former yardman came as close to mirth as Grace had even noticed. ‘I believe he rejoices in the name of Nahum Smathers.’
The parolee winced. ‘That’s awful! I prefer Ugly Butler.’ He grinned at Grace. ‘Reminds me of New England names back home, which all come out of the Bible, or maybe some virtue.’
He sounded almost like himself again. It was too facile of her to think he could overlook her rude behaviour, but he seemed to want to try. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, intrigued.
‘Would you believe Elaine’s sister was named Patience? Which she was not,’ he added, under his breath. ‘And one of my neighbours rejoices in the name of Tidal Wave, because his father had a dream about that just before his son was born.’
Grace burst out laughing. ‘You’re serious?’
‘We call him Tidy, for short.’ Rob grinned at Emery. ‘So Nahum is nothing. I still prefer Ugly Butler.’
Emery dished up more ragout for Rob, who nodded his thanks and dug in again. ‘Smathers walked up and down in front of the dower house a few times this morning,’ he said. ‘I thought he went to town, but I lost him.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Emery, you’re a regular Bow Street Runner,’ Rob exclaimed.
Emery lowered his eyes modestly, looking surprisingly coy for someone of advanced years. Grace turned her head so he would not see her smile.
‘As to that, Captain, I’m becoming skilled at sidling along just out of sight, and blending into the foliage.’
If I don’t leave right now, I’ll embarrass him, Grace thought, her weary brain suddenly lively with visions of the cadaverous Emery, so ramshackle, turning into an elm. She got up. ‘Goodnight!’
* * *
Grace braided her hair and got into bed, lying in the dark, her hands behind her head. Her worries returned as she stared at the ceiling, with its whorls of plaster applied during the reign of a much earlier George. Tomorrow she would write to Mr Selway and… ‘Ask him what?’ she said out loud to a plaster whorl that looked like a lopsided apple. ‘Where he is? Tell him I’m worried about Ugly Butler? Demand some money?’
She punched her pillow, wishing it were less lumpy. I could use more money, considering that I spent the last of it on our fruitless trip to Exeter, she decided, then turned her face into the pillow, smothering a laugh. At least Emery was watching Mr Smathers. I would almost give a portion of my increasingly hard-earned legacy to see that, she told herself.
Still aching with the needless pain she had caused Rob, she listened to the house grow quiet. Finally she heard the American’s footsteps on the stair. Don’t pass my door, she thought suddenly. Knock and come in, please.
She held her breath. He knocked.
‘Come in,’ she said, mystified at the ways of providence.
He had removed his shoes. He closed the door quietly behind him, stood a moment, uncertain, then sat cross-legged on the end of her bed. She watched him, unsure of herself, even though she had wished him here. The room was still light. She hadn’t bothered to close her curtains and he was visible, down to the wry look on his face.
‘I ate too much ragout,’ he said. ‘Never thought I’d ever say I ate too much, but I did. Do you have a remedy?’
‘Peppermint tea,’ she said, pulling back the sheet, relieved to think she could do something for him besides wound him. ‘I’ll get you some.’
He put his hand on her foot. ‘Later.’ He released her and she got under the covers again.
‘I worry too much. Is there a remedy for that?’
‘I do, too,’ she admitted. ‘No remedy.’ If you can overlook my rudeness, I can, too, she told herself.
He leaned back against the footboard, making himself comfortable. ‘Maybe Captain Duncan would have been less trouble to you than Rob Inman.’ He smiled, his eyes reflecting an earlier memory. ‘He was always more inclined to let matters take their own course. On the Orontes, I was more like you: worrying, testing the wind, wondering why no one else seemed as concerned as I was about the smallest things.’
‘You sound like a captain.’
He looked at her seriously, then nodded. ‘Before the old man died, Dan’s stepfather told me to keep an eye on him and not fear to prod him into action when he needed it.’
‘Did you?’
‘Aye, often.’
Grace drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. ‘I will allow you to worry about both Emery and Mr Smathers, if you want.’ She hesitated a moment, wanted to hold out her hand to him, but was afraid to. ‘Forgive me?’
‘For what?’ His expression turned to something close to chagrin. ‘I have to confess, this afternoon when I said I was going to look for a broadside—anything with news about the war—I was planning to do a runner.’
‘Rob! You assured me you wouldn’t!’
‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘I noticed two East India merchant vessels in the harbour. I could have been on one…’
‘…going to India.’
‘Out of here, at least,’ he finished. ‘Once I got into a
foreign port, it would be simple to jump ship for home.’
‘I think you know I wouldn’t have screamed for a constable. Why didn’t you?’
He scratched his head; the wry look returned.
‘I can have peppermint tea for you in a minute or two,’ she offered again.
‘That’s not the matter. It’s a delicate thing, Gracie.’
‘You’d miss my Quimby Crèmes,’ she teased, then threw up her hands. ‘Rob, you baffle me.’
‘I realised if I fled Exeter, I’d miss you.’
He said it so quietly she wondered if she had heard wrong. ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard me.’ He put his hand on her ankle again. ‘I think my sojourn, courtesy of Captain Duncan, has taken a strange turn.’
Chapter Sixteen
Good thing I’m sitting down, Grace thought, her mind a jumble. She moved her foot and he removed his hand, murmuring ‘Sorry.’
‘Poor man,’ she told him gently, even as her heart hammered against her ribcage. ‘You’re missing your late wife. Do I remind you of her?’
‘Not at all and that’s the funny part,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Elaine was calm and peaceful and never raised her voice. You’re a worrywart and a manager and not precisely shy about ordering me around.’ He grinned at her. ‘You remind me of a little rat terrier Dan Duncan used to own.
Tenacious little thing.’
‘Oh, horrors, then, you’ve lost your mind,’ she joked. ‘Do I look like Elaine at least? I know you’re homesick.’
He shook his head again. ‘I can’t imagine two more different people, in temperament and looks. She had curly blonde hair and was short and round. Sorry, Gracie, but kneading bread has given you quite a set of shoulders and we nearly see eye to eye. Of course, you have the trimmest waist I’ve ever seen.’
‘And my hair is straighter than a market road and my eyes are brown,’ she concluded, her face rosy. ‘Rob Inman, you’re just lonely for women!’ Her face felt even hotter. ‘Pardon my plain speaking.’ That’s all it is, she thought, relieved and sad at the same time.
‘You’re entitled to your plain speaking,’ he said. ‘It’s what I expect from you, words with no bark on them. Since we’re speaking plain, it’s true I haven’t enjoyed a woman since my wife died, and that was going on four years ago. That’s not it,
Grace. I’ve been trying to figure this out. Part—but only part—of your charm is that you seem to have no idea how lovely you are.’
She couldn’t think of any quick remark. ‘Mama said I was pretty,’ she said cautiously, after a long silence between them.
‘She was right. You’re also lively and opinionated. I loved my wife, Grace, but she had no opinions of her own. Humour me here a minute.’ He glanced at her. ‘The way I see it, my dear, is that you and I have something in common. I’ve never noticed it in a woman before, but let’s face it, a seagoing man isn’t around a lot of females. Maybe women like you are a penny a dozen, but I seriously doubt it.’
She prodded him with her foot. ‘You’re stalling, Rob Inman, and I’m losing patience with you.’ That’s right, Grace, just joke with him, she thought.
‘Elaine never, ever would have said that to me. She was patience personified, even if her sister wasn’t.’ He grabbed her ankle through the sheet and she laughed, covering her mouth, before remembering that Emery was in the servants’ quarters off the kitchen.
He released her ankle and raised up on one elbow to look at her. ‘Grace, you’re an impresario.’
‘A what?’ she asked, amazed.
‘You heard me and you know what it means,’ he said. ‘You can take an idea and turn it into a success.’
She moved closer to him so she could take him by the arm and shake him. ‘Rob, you peabrain, I am an assistant in a bakery! If I can’t raise the money to buy it, that is all I will ever be!’ She waved her arms around. ‘Ordinarily, I live behind an oven.’
She grasped him by both arms now, trying to make him understand, when the silliness of her situation struck her. ‘I’m raising my voice, I’m frank and I am opinionated, which must make me well nigh irresistible to you right now,’ she said as she started to laugh.
‘Oh, Grace, you can’t imagine,’ he teased.
‘But by God, if I owned that bakery, I would make some changes.’
‘See there? I told you so,’ he declared, triumphant.
‘“See there” what?’ she demanded.
‘It’s this way, Grace, some day, someone besides a prisoner of war from—horrors!—Nantucket will see that quality in you,’ he explained. ‘And he’ll be a lucky man, because he’ll never, ever have to worry if you could manage things, should their whole world fall apart.’