Duster appeared to become impatient with her topic, and with much squawking spread his wings and fluttered back towards the gate.
"No! Oh, you naughty bird! Come back here at once!" cried Jennifer running after the small creature.
She heard the pound of hooves then, and her heart gave such a lurch that she was sure it would break through her ribs. The tall rider with one arm in a sling set his mount at the hedge, cleared it in fine style, and was out of the saddle and running before his horse had come to a halt.
Jennifer uttered a small sob and, quite forgetting both disdain and propriety, picked up her skirts and ran to meet him.
A gardener trudging home with his tools stopped and gawked at her.
"Jennifer—Britewell!" called an indignant voice from the front steps.
Jennifer paid no heed to her aunt's disapproval and reached out yearningly.
Scant inches away, Jonathan plunged to a halt. He took up her hand and pressed it to his lips, but saying nothing, strode past.
Lady Lyme-Rufford, awesome in her outraged dignity, was suddenly just an elderly lady who stepped back, uttered a small shocked scream, and was swept up in one strong arm, whirled about, and kissed whole-heartedly.
"Oh! You wretch! How dare you?" she gasped, her bright eyes and glowing cheeks betraying her. "Put me down at once!"
"How may I ever thank you?" Jonathan set her on her little feet again, and smiled down at her. "Admiral Chetwynd told me that 'twas your letter persuaded him to intercede for me. His defence won me my freedom."
"Well you may tell me about it inside the house," said my lady. "And you shall overnight with us. Oh, my goodness, only look at that bird! Let that be a lesson to you, Jennifer! All men are fickle!" Duster had landed on Jonathan's shoulder and was scolding him fiercely. Struck by uncertainty, Lady Lyme-Rufford asked, "He is a gentleman bird, isn't he? Oh well, never mind about that. Heavens, how different you look! Quite the dashing Corinthian! Samuel!—Captain Armitage's hack! William!—our best guest suite for the gentleman, and hot water! At once! Mary!—tell Chef to set dinner back half an hour, and if he faints, throw a jug of water over his wig. Captain!—we shall expect you in the withdrawing room in twenty minutes exactly, for I am quite twittering with eagerness to hear your news, and Jennifer is—well, never mind."
And so, over a long and excellent dinner, Jonathan told them most of what had transpired in Town, his gaze lingering often on Jennifer's lovely face as she listened raptly, her eyes shining, and a becoming blush on her cheeks. When he finished, she asked, bewildered, "What does that mean, exactly? Are you reinstated? Will you be given another command?"
"I am neither condemned nor reinstated. But I think they must acquit me, eventually. As to whether I shall be offered another command—" He shrugged. "I don't know."
She said fiercely, "Well I think they are a lot of—of muck-worms! They should have awarded you a medal, and your back pay, and your prize money! What about Lord Green and this dreadful League of Jewelled Men? Would they listen to what you had to say on that score?"
He gave a wry smile. "Falcon was right. I was reprimanded for associating with… now how did they word it? 'A group of bored young aristocrats having nothing better to do with their time than to circulate false and malicious accusations 'gainst gentlemen they happen to dislike.'"
"Oh, how can they be so stupid?" said Jennifer in exasperation.
"If they were not, they'd never rise to be government servants," snorted my lady, taking up her cane. "Now, I am tired and 'tis past time for me to get to my bed."
Jonathan stood at once to pull back her chair and usher her into the hall.
At the foot of the stairs she murmured with a twinkle, "The moon is very bright tonight, Captain. And my gardens offer a charming walk."
He lit her candle and handed it to her. "So I had noticed, ma'am."
"I thought you may have." She looked up at him. "My, how tall you are. Not above a half hour, if you please."
When he returned her smile but said nothing, she put a hand on his arm and said, "You kissed me, but I did not see you kiss my grand-niece. Am I mistaken in thinking you had something to ask me, Captain?"
He said slowly, "I can no longer claim that title, my lady. In truth, I think I shall never again be the master of a ship, even were a command offered me. I am not rolled up, but for the moment I am not able to—to ask your permission to—"
The smile faded from her eyes. She interrupted, "You are aware that Jennifer is something of an heiress?"
His chin lifted. He said, "No, ma'am. I was not aware."
"And I have put your back up, I see. Pride is a great thing, no matter what some strait-laced humility-ridden dullard may tell you. But, I'd not see my grand-niece hurt, Jonathan. Don't let pride smother your chance for happiness."
Five minutes later, strolling in the fragrant, moonlit garden, Jennifer was beginning to think her chances for happiness were lost after all. The man to whom she had given her heart was beside her, he was safe and his arm was almost healed; the terrible weeks of waiting were over, and they were alone together in an idyllic setting for romance. Yet not once had he attempted to kiss her or to speak the words of love she so yearned to hear.
Even as she had the thought, her arm was seized and she was wrenched to face him. "Jennifer," he said huskily, gazing into her hopeful eyes.
"Yes, dearest?" she answered provocatively.
"Jennifer…" He bit his lip, drew back and began to walk on again, then said in a strained voice, "You told me you have heard from your family?"
Offstride, she answered, "Yes—er… Oh, yes! My great-aunt was furious when I told her how Papa had tried to make me marry Hibbard Green. She sent off what I suspect was a very fierce letter to him, and ten days later, Tilly came to us, with his reply. He asked that I go home at once, Johnny, and—"
"The devil!" Once again she was jerked to a halt while his eyes searched her face. "You will not?"
She leaned to him and murmured lovingly, "Don't you want me to, my dear one?"
He released her, but said fiercely, "I'll have a word with Lady Lyme-Rufford at once!"
"No!" She caught his hand. "Do not disturb her. She would not let me go."
"Do you say you considered such a foolish step?"
She sighed. "Howland is very ill, Johnny. It seems that Hibbard Green deceived him into believing he had found gold in the Blue Rose. Oh, 'tis not so outlandish as you may think. Gold has been found here in times past. Green convinced my brother that it must be kept very secret, or we would have all the world digging about the mine. Howland began to be suspicious, but he was too involved by then, and could not get clear. When his lordship decreed that we must all be killed, Howland tried to stop him, and was shot down. Papa wrote that he is getting better, but—but has not as yet the use of his legs. He wants to see me and beg my forgiveness for the way he treated me."
"I am sorry for him. Is Green still at Triad?"
"No. Tilly said he and his men went back to the mine after we sailed away, but next day there was no sign of them. Papa is helping the village people rebuild their homes, and"—she smiled sadly—"Lord and Lady Morris have evidently been exceeding generous."
"Noble of 'em," said Jonathan ironically. "Did any of the military ever put in an appearance?"
"A naval midshipman and several army officers arrived just as Tilly was leaving. She says my father told them some tale of a fight with wreckers. The village folk would say nothing, of course. Poor souls. At the end they stood by us, Johnny."
"Even so, I'll not have you going back there."
Joy and hope were reborn. Swaying to him, she asked, "What do you… propose, Captain Armitage?"
"Mr. Armitage," he corrected, releasing her hand so as to run his fingertips down her temple and along the delicate curve of her cheek.
Jennifer shivered, and closed her eyes.
The moonlight bathed her lovely face. Leaning to her, Jonathan had to call up all his self-control b
efore he could manage to draw back. "I—propose," he gasped, "that we leave very early in the morning, ma'am. I have something to—to show you."
Disappointed, she opened her eyes and looked at him uneasily. "Where?"
"In Dover. My—er, sister is there. I find that in trying to clear my name, she also lost the home and inheritance her husband bequeathed her. I must—somehow—repay her. She is betrothed now to Gordon Chandler, a splendid man. Had I told you that? I forget, but—"
"You forgot to tell me one thing," she said, interrupting the nervous rush of words. "That you were married."
He had started to walk on, but at this he jerked to a halt and stood rigid and silent.
"Why did you not tell me, Johnny?"
He stared at the moonlit path, and said, low voiced, "I would have, if I'd remembered it."
"You remembered when Mr. Taylor spoke your name, I think. But still you did not tell me."
"No." Looking anywhere but into her wistful eyes, he said, "I had thought, you see, that you would be better off with me, even in poverty, than wed to Hibbard Green. That however bad it might be, we would be together. What I'd very stupidly not foreseen was that I might not even be able to offer you my—poor protection, for I could very well be sent to prison for my dereliction of duty. Perhaps even hanged. And you would be left all alone, which was not to be thought of. So I had no right to speak, and there seemed no point in—in telling you about… Lillian."
She thought tenderly, 'How dear that his every thought was to protect me.' And she said, "But now you are not in prison, nor condemned to death, and still, you did not tell me."
He took a deep breath. "What do you want to know?"
"What she was like. Whether you loved her very much. Whether she was a good wife."
They walked on, and after a small pause he said quietly, "She was tiny. Golden hair and blue eyes, and flawless pale skin. So very lovely, but—a fragile, almost ethereal loveliness. From the time she was in the nursery, artists would want to paint her. My father's portrait of her is quite famous. You may have heard of it."
Jennifer said in awed disbelief, "Not—not the one they call 'Lily of the Valley'?"
"Yes!" He asked eagerly, "Have you seen it? My sister tells me it was sold."
"Fleming is acquainted with the Earl of Elsingham, and I was so fortunate as to be invited to his country seat last year. It is a great castle near Falmouth, and the earl is a rather formidable gentleman, but he likes Fleming, and was very gracious. The portrait hangs in the Great Hall, and is one of his most prized possessions. I was quite in awe. Your wife was indeed exquisite. Had you been long acquainted?"
"I knew her all my life. Everyone loved her, but when we were children she used to cry because she couldn't climb trees or swim in the pond, or jump her pony over the hedges, like the rest of us, for the least injury would make her ill. It was an arranged marriage. We both were very young but we were perfectly content with the arrangement. And—yes, I loved her. Only… I lived with fear, because I had to be away a great deal and she was so delicate. She was devoted to me, and she had such plans…" He stopped talking, and then said abruptly, "She did not even live long enough to celebrate our wedding anniversary. When I look back, I see her more as—as a precious thing of beauty that shone on my life very briefly, and that I scarcely dared to touch for fear it might shatter and be gone."
She clasped his hand and tried not to be jealous of the beautiful Lillian. But she was afraid and it took all her courage to say, "Now that you remember her, Johnny, perhaps your feelings for me have—changed. I shall quite understand if—"
He jerked his hand away, and demanded harshly, "Will you come with me? We would have to overnight, but my sister has a cottage on the estate, and you could stay with her. It would give you a chance to—er, to become acquainted."
He had not responded to her question, but at least he wanted her to meet his sister. She said, "Yes, of course. I will like to meet her."
Chapter 18
It was quiet and very peaceful in the garden, and seated on a stone bench, Jennifer looked about her with delight. Jonathan had told her something of Lac Brillant as they drove through the sweeping park, but she'd not envisioned anything so breathtaking. The mansion consisted of three separate white stuccoed villas in the Italian style, set in a wide crescent. The extensive gardens were bright with flowers, and several quaint little bridges crossed the meandering stream. A great fountain sent delicate plumes high into the warm afternoon air. Fine trees provided a verdant frame behind the houses, the tower of a small chapel could be glimpsed nearby, and to the south was the rich blue sweep of the Channel. She did not quite understand why Johnny had asked her to wait here, rather than taking her up to the mansion, but she thought she had never seen such a beautiful estate, and was quite content to sit down and admire it.
She was gazing dreamily at the chapel when he spoke her name.
She stood, smiling as she turned to him.
He looked pale and anxious and somehow pleading. And with him were two small boys, about five years old, she thought, and so much alike that they could only be twins. Their fair curls were lighter than their father's, and their eyes were deep blue, rather than his cool grey, but the resemblance was strong and the relationship unmistakeable.
Stunned, she knew at last why he had been so hesitant to speak of marriage.
Her eyes flashed to meet his. He said, his voice strained, "May I make my sons known to you, Miss Britewell? Thorpe, Jacob, make your bows."
They responded obediently, but their eyes never left her, and she knew she was being appraised critically from top to toe.
"How do you do?" she said, trying to be calm. "I expect you must be very happy now that your papa has come home."
"We are," said the boy she thought was Jacob.
"Aunty Ruth takes care of us," said Thorpe.
"She's pretty, too," added Jacob.
"And we don't want to go 'way," said Thorpe with faint defiance.
"I can see why." Jennifer sat down again. "This estate is—is like fairyland. It must be lovely to live here."
A pause, through which they stared at her.
Then, "Papa says you live by the sea," said Jacob. "In a castle."
"An' he says you like boys," added Thorpe doubtfully.
She said, "I like boys, and girls. I wanted very much to have some children of my own, in fact. But, sad to say, I will never have any."
"Oh." Intrigued, Thorpe edged a step closer. "Why?"
"Because some ladies aren't able to have babies. I'm one of them."
"If you'd got some," said Jacob, coming up on the other side, "how many would you have wanted?"
"Lots and lots," she answered. "But—I'd have been so happy to have been given even one."
Another pause. The two pairs of blue eyes bored at her.
"We've got a hedgehog," said Thorpe.
"His name's Being," supplied Jacob.
Jennifer laughed, clapping her hands. "What a good name!"
They looked at each other. Thorpe asked, "Would you like to see?"
"I would, indeed."
They were away, knees pumping, heads back. One of them called cheerfully, "P'raps she won't take him away."
"She's not as pretty as Mama's picture. But she's got smiles in her eyes."
Jennifer stood and walked into Jonathan's arms. After an ecstatic moment, he drew her down beside him on the bench. "You don't mind? I was so afraid—"
"Foolish, foolish man! Didn't you think I meant it when I said I had longed to have children? Oh, my dear—they are so splendid! I shall—I shall have a family, after all! If'—she wiped away a happy tear—"if you mean to ask me."
"Ask you? I mean to implore you! But—darling, darling Jennifer, I have so little to offer you!"
"You have already given me a gift I treasure above all others." She lifted the golden locket she wore, and opened it. Inside was a seashell, small and fragile and of a rare beauty.
Lo
oking at it, the past swept back, and Jonathan was so overcome that his eyes blurred. He said gruffly, "It is a poor gift, but—"
Her fingers touched his lips. "It was given with love. I want to have it put into a proper setting, and I shall wear it proudly. And now, you offer me the family I thought I'd never have. Only… your sons seem devoted to your sister, my dear. And they love this beautiful place."
He took both her hands and held them tightly. "I hope to be able to offer you a proper home in time, dearest heart. I've quite a sum set by, but it is in the care of my dubash—that is to say, my general steward, in Calcutta. He's a splendid fellow and will be wondering when I mean to return. I've written instructing him to arrange for my funds to be sent here, but in the meantime—well, it seems that the Chandlers have been long in need of a good bailiff. Sir Brian, he's Gordon's father, has offered me the position. It is a far cry from what you deserve, my love, or what I once could have laid at your feet. But—if you were willing there's a charming house that goes with the offer. The old fellow is extreme fond of the twins, and—Oh, my beautiful, brave, and most adored love—could you—would you stoop so low as to consider…?"
The lady from the castle threw her arms about the neck of the village idiot, and there was no doubt as to her answer.
They were married ten days later, by special licence. The ceremony was performed in the small thirteenth-century chapel at Lac Brillant. Jennifer and Jonathan's sister, Ruth Allington, were already fast friends, and Jennifer was overjoyed when her brother Royce came to give her away. Lady Lyme-Rufford looked very spry and saucy on the arm of a distinguished gentleman named Admiral Chetwynd. Sir Brian Chandler attended, with his son Gordon, who was soon to marry Jonathan's sister, and James Morris and August Falcon arrived from Town accompanied by Falcon's sister, Katrina, who was a striking beauty, as dark as her brother and with the same intriguing slant to her midnight blue eyes. Last to arrive was Joe Taylor, shy and self-effacing, but overjoyed to commence his new duties as his Captain's manservant, and losing no time in gravitating to Tilly's side.
A Shadow's Bliss Page 31