by TJ Bennett
The Pangburns arrived the next morning in the carriage Gerard had provided to take us to the autumn festival. No doubt because there would be so many other people present, and because of Beast’s likely reticence to show himself under such conditions, he had left instructions that only Bill the footman need attend me.
True to his word, Gerard had let me go. Mrs. Jones had orders to pack the few belongings I had acquired since arriving on the island and to move them to wherever I wished to reside. Bill was to come with me, and I was to choose a maid of all work from the village. I was to have whatever I needed, but he would not see me again unless I asked for him.
I had found the ruby engagement ring on the floor in my room, and though I would not wear it, I carried it in my small reticule as a reminder of the man who gave it to me. I had also removed my cameo, tucking it very carefully inside the same handkerchief containing the ring.
My past and my future, side by side.
As I climbed into the carriage, Mrs. Howard was silent, not quite meeting my gaze. Matthew made up for her reserve by chatting amiably all the way to the village. His ceremonial sword, sheathed and shined to a sparkling gleam, lay beside him on the squabs.
Once we arrived, I found myself beneath a halcyon sky, walking along with Matthew and Mrs. Howard, Bill trailing behind us while the villagers chatted and laughed and hallo’ed one another and generally made merry on this crisp autumn morning. I had developed the habit of counting the days according to the calendar back home, and I realized tonight was All Hallows Eve, when the barrier between this world and the next was at its thinnest, according to legend. The bright merriment surrounding me seemed a good way to hold back the dark character of this fine day.
I speculated that the entire population of Ynys Nos had turned out to listen to the festival musicians play, watch the pig races, and eat food from tables piled high with roasted meats and sweet pies, or to lay carved gourds and cabbages and shafts of wheat on platforms set up outside the church door for that purpose. When I discovered Bill had family in attendance, I insisted he spend time with them. He only agreed after making Matthew promise he would stay with me until the footman returned.
It was a beautiful day, yet I could take no pleasure in it, for I had wounded the heart of the man I loved.
I gazed at Mrs. Howard speculatively. I determined I must bide my time and wait for the right moment to confront her.
As the day progressed, I tried to enjoy myself a little. Matthew was an agreeable companion, and it became obvious how well liked he was amongst the people of Ynys Nos. He had already led the festival procession, solemnly clasping the hilt of the sword where he had strapped it around his waist and then laying it ceremonially across the steps of the church. He had prayed over the crops, or as he jested, “offered the blessing and blessed the offerings”; flirted with old crones and advised young husbands; given hearty backslaps and received them from farmers and tradesmen alike.
I was also privileged to meet a few of the village’s rosy-cheeked children born before the tragedy that had prevented the addition of any more siblings to their families. One of the elder gentlemen of the council—which I now knew to be composed of former masters whose unique gifts had faded over time—cheerfully teased the little ones by making a marble disappear from his palm and reappear from out of a small boy’s ear to the delighted shrieks of the other children. There were not many children—sadly, most had been lost in the disaster—but it was obvious the three dozen or so who survived were fiercely adored. They appeared to range in age from three to fourteen years. It was odd to think that they might never grow up but remain children forever.
“Will they always be this way?” I asked Matthew, who had just taken a bite of a candied apple and so had to take a moment to chew before he answered.
The gold strands in his hair glinted in the sunlight. “Time passes slowly here, but it does pass. They have already grown a little. They may eventually mature into adults. We simply do not know. It might take hundreds of years by the usual reckoning of time.”
One of the younger children, a towheaded lad, ran up to him and handed up a small bundle of seeds wrapped in fine gauze and tied with a pretty pink ribbon. “From me mudder, for the blessing,” he said, then scampered back to her. The woman, a pretty blonde in a gingham dress, smiled invitingly at Matthew.
He gave her a friendly wave and moved on, showing her no more special attention than he had the other women of the parish who’d spoken to him. This tableau had played out several times now. In truth, he was far more attentive to me than to them, and some of the women had given me the fish-eye behind his back. It did not bode well for my being invited to any of their homes for tea, I thought glumly. I received the same gimlet stare from the pretty blonde as we passed.
But surely this woman, having a child, had a husband as well?
Mrs. Howard and I exchanged a look. She had avoided my gaze most of the morning, so that surprised me. She answered my unspoken question in a soft voice only I could hear. “Mrs. Bingham is a widow. Her sheep farm brings in a good income, but she needs a man to help her manage it. It does not hurt that my cousin is handsome, hardworking, and respectable. There are several such available widows here, not to mention the never-married women, but Matthew seems oblivious to their plight.”
Mrs. Howard smiled in his direction. She looked almost pretty today. She wore a simple flounced dress of thin white wool piped with silk along the edges, over which she had thrown a tartan wool mantle. She’d pulled back her hair and left a frame of curls around her face. The effect was to display her swan’s neck and highlight her porcelain skin to its best advantage, as well as to bring out the intense blue of her eyes.
I pursed my lips in thought, looking at her as an eligible male might. It was a pity she was still bound to her husband. She was older, but since bearing children was not a factor here, I had no doubt some nice gentleman might decide to court and marry her if she were unwed. She was personable and intelligent, and would likely make someone who appreciated her homemaking skills and thriftiness a fine wife.
I stopped to admire a rack of fluttering ribbons for sale by the town’s haberdasher as we strolled past. Matthew had been pulled into a conversation with a farmer who seemed intent on capturing his attention.
“You should buy the green one,” Mrs. Howard urged, pointing to the ribbons. “For your lovely hair.”
All my money had been in the reticule that had been lost at sea. I was completely dependent on Gerard’s generosity until I could work out some way to earn my own keep. In the meantime, I was loath to incur more debt than I already had. “Another time, perhaps.”
Mrs. Howard shrugged and strolled on. I was about to follow her when the haberdasher’s wife stopped me by putting the green ribbon in my hand and folding my fingers around it. “Take it, missus,” she whispered.
I looked at her in surprise.
“I am sorry. I cannot afford to buy this lovely ribbon, I’m afraid.” I tried to hand it back to her, but she refused with a quick shake of her head.
“It’s for what you did.” The woman looked young—perhaps in her early twenties—with a softly rounded figure and ivory skin shielded by a large, befeathered hat with a wide brim.
I tilted my head, not understanding her.
“For the women,” she explained. Her gaze darting around me, she lowered her voice even more, so much so that I leaned toward her. “There are some who will never like you for it, but as for the rest of us…we’re ever so grateful.” She hesitated, then spoke quickly. “I’ve seen Mrs. Blackpot. Because—well, we’ve already lost two babes, my husband and I. He’s a good man—he loves me and couldn’t bear to see me go through that pain again…” Her voice trailed away, her brown eyes misting. “You’ve given him back to me. A pretty ribbon is a small price to pay for that gift.”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath, understanding what it must have been like for her to lose first two infants and then her husband’s physical
affection. Her gratitude shimmered in the air between us, her eyes huge in her face. My throat closed with emotion.
I cleared it before I spoke again, blinking the tears from my eyes. “Well. In that case, I will take it. Thank you.”
She smiled shyly and waved me on. I quickly caught up with Mrs. Howard, who was examining the sellers’ stalls as she passed.
“What was that about?” she asked, gesturing with a tilt of her head at the haberdasher’s wife.
I tucked the pretty green ribbon into my pocket with a smile. “Oh, nothing, really. Just welcoming me to the island.”
I kept one eye on Matthew as we walked, waiting until he was well out of earshot. There might not be a better chance to speak privately with her than this.
“What is your relationship to Matthew again?” I asked.
She looked at me strangely. “He is my cousin, as you know.”
“Close or distant?” I clarified.
“Ah. Close, dear lady. He is my first cousin, and we were raised together from an early age, when my parents died of cholera. Thus he is as plain as a brother to me, and I find I am quite immune to his charms.” She slid me a glance. “A woman who was genuinely interested in him would not find me an impediment to her cause.”
“Hm,” I said noncommittally and decided to act on the intuition that had taken root throughout a sleepless night and blossomed this morning. “Is that why you lied to me about your relationship with Gerard? You hoped to separate us so I might consider Matthew as a suitor instead?”
Mrs. Howard stopped short. “I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Briton.” Her gaze darted around, and she flushed. “I did not lie.”
I took her arm in mine, gently nudging her forward again so no one would be privy to our conversation. “In fact you did, and we both know it. What I want to know is why. It seemed cruel of you, and you did not strike me as that sort of person.”
She made a choked sound and turned away from me, her bonnet shielding her face from view. In the weighty silence, waves of guilt emanated from her.
I knew then for certain: Mrs. Howard had lied. Gerard had been telling the truth. How could he ever forgive me for thinking so little of him—of us both? I had not had faith in either his love or in myself, and as a result, I may have lost my only chance at happiness. I said a silent prayer that Mrs. Howard’s lie, and my distrust, had not driven Gerard away forever.
“Perhaps you intended the best when you struck at my heart with your hurtful words,” I said sternly to her. “But you had better explain it to me now, while there is still a chance of us remaining friends.”
A soft sob escaped from her lips. “I am sorry,” she whispered, turning to me with a stricken expression. “I did an awful thing, but I did it to save you. As God is my witness, I meant you no harm.”
I let her see in my face the harm her words had caused. “Then why did you do it?”
Her blue eyes shimmered. “You are a kind and decent person, and he has preyed upon your generosity and innocence. I tried to tell you, but you would not listen to me. I-I suppose I became desperate and resolved that I would do whatever it took to make you heed my words.” Her gaze became pleading. “He is dangerous. Not only to your virtue, which is reason enough, but to your very person. I am sorry for what I did. Even so, I may have exaggerated about our affair, but I did not lie about having been intimate with him.”
My heart softened at her distress. “I know that,” I said gently. “He told me before you did. He still feels badly for having compromised you and would like to make it up to you, if you would but allow him to do so.”
She looked surprised. “He did? He does?”
“Yes.” We started walking again. “Mrs. Howard, believe me when I say this: I am fully aware of who—and what—Gerard is. Whatever becomes of us, I am a grown woman and I can take care of myself.”
I gazed at her directly. “I will accept your apology because your cousin and I are friends, and quite frankly, I like you. But, my dear, you must learn to leave the past behind you if you are ever to get on with your life.” I took a sharp breath, the meaning of my own advice sinking in. “And I must do the same,” I murmured.
She blinked at me, a tear sliding down her cheek before she dashed it away. “You are right. I am ashamed of myself. I have been foolish in my unhappiness, focusing on other people’s problems so as to ignore the muddle that is my own life. It would be only what I deserved if you never spoke to me again.”
“Nonsense. I have forgotten it already.” I smiled, relieved to have this behind us, though I worried what the future held for Gerard and I. “And your life is not such a muddle. One cannot be in too much of a muddle if one has friends. Which you do.”
She ducked her head shyly. “I would like for us to be friends. If you would agree to call me Mariah?”
I took her hand in mine. “Only if you will call me Catherine.”
We beamed at one another, hands clasped.
“There,” I said. “All fixed. I do like being a woman, don’t you? So much easier to settle disagreements this way then with fisticuffs or pistols at dawn.”
Mariah agreed but then bit her lip. “I hope I did not create too much trouble for you, dear lady. With the master, I mean.”
Remembering the difficulty of our last parting, I sighed. “Let us say it gave us an opportunity to discuss certain subjects that needed discussing.” Mariah looked stricken again, but I squeezed her hand. Gerard was a proud man, and I had hurt that pride. Would he forgive me because I had not trusted him with my heart?
I straightened my spine. He may have his choice of any woman on this island, but I was the one who loved him. I would make him forgive me.
I was unstoppable.
I grinned, slipping my arm through Mariah’s, eager to see Gerard again. “Never mind. Everything will work out for the best; I’m convinced of it. For both of us.”
Of course, I could not see him again until this evening, but in the meantime, I was determined to make the most of the day.
We turned in the opposite direction, heading back toward Matthew. I glanced at her, my curiosity getting the best of me. “If you do not mind my asking…how did you and Roger Howard come to marry? You seem so different.”
“Perhaps it was because he was ‘brae and bonny,’ as the Scots say, and I had stars in my eyes. Perhaps it was because he said he loved me. In the beginning, it might even have been true. But really, it was because he was a tragic figure, and I thought he needed me. I thought I could save him.” She glanced at me sheepishly. “I suppose that is a problem of mine.”
I said drily, “It is in our nature to want to rescue those we love, particularly men, from themselves.”
She tugged absently on one of the curls beneath her bonnet. “When I married him, I did not know what kind of beast he was. Although he was poor, I married him over the objections of my family. I had a small inheritance from my mother, which we lived on until he ran through it trying to implement his schemes to get rich. When his expectations did not come to fruition, we had to borrow from Matthew’s parents to stay afloat. He grew bitter and angrier each day. He began to drink and sometimes…” Her voice dropped so low I could barely hear her. “Sometimes he would hit me when he was in his cups. Not often, but the master caught wind of it and made it stop. That only made things worse. Roger felt unmanned. Then the infidelity started—”
She darted a glance my way. “I asked for a divorce. Thus far, he has refused to let me go. He insists he still has a say in my life. I do not know why he will not simply release me and let us move on.”
Something struck me about what Mariah had said. “Mr. Howard was poor? Have his circumstances changed so much since you left him?”
Her forehead creased into a frown. “He seems to have found a way to provide for himself. He lives quite well now. He even owns a horse. How he can afford the clothes, the women—I do not know. I cannot help thinking how things might have been different for us if he’d made his fortu
ne while there was still a chance for us to be happy.”
I felt sorry for her. “Let us not waste time raising the ghosts of the past. Let us find a way to enjoy ourselves, shall we?”
Taking a deep breath, she smiled bravely. “Yes. We should.”
We located her cousin and soon found ourselves engaged in an impromptu game of horseshoes with a few of the children and their parents in a charming park situated just off the high street. We played until the sun had passed the noon mark and the air began to warm, until only Matthew and I remained in the game, the lead going back and forth, until one of the councilmen approached him with an apologetic smile and murmured into his ear.
Matthew turned to me. “May we postpone my trouncing at your hands for a bit, Catherine? I am needed by the council on a church matter. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Of course.”
I looked around and noted the sun had set much lower in the sky while we had been playing. “I wonder what has become of Mariah.” She’d been gone quite a while. “I will find her and help her dish that blackberry pie you purchased from the baker. Do not take too long, or we may eat your slice,” I teased.
I headed back to the churchyard where some of the villagers had placed blankets for picnicking along the grass, but I did not find Mariah. It soon became apparent that no one had seen her since she had left the game with the pie. A frisson of unease ran down my spine.
That is when I saw it.
A squashed blackberry pie turned over and trampled in the grass, the pie tin bent and dirty. My unease grew. Something was not right. Instinct told me to find Matthew immediately, but just as I turned to do so, I felt a tugging at my skirt.
Looking down, I noted the bright face of one of the children gazing back at me. His eyes were dark and wide, the knees of his short breeches stained with grass, and he was perhaps seven or eight years of age. He stared up at me as if in awe. I imagined I might be the first stranger he’d ever seen.
“Did you wish to speak with me?” I prompted him, trying not to sound impatient.