by Susan Ward
It was, if nothing else, an interesting room. The tent bed was the most peculiar thing Merry had ever seen. The gilt sphinx settees were horrid. And all the tables had dreadful crocodile feet with large statues of scantily clad women playing harps scattered across them.
Pausing at a table, Merry’s noticed a book, fixed her eyes on the cover, blushed, and looked away. It was then she saw the mirror hanging above the bed, an occurrence she couldn’t begin to make reason of.
Then, Merry’s bewildered study fixed on a large portrait of a woman strangely arranged with a swan.
Emily’s face was cleverly expressionless. “You can see why I didn’t want to put you here. The decor is supposed to be in the Egyptian fashion. If you ask me it looks like…” at Merry’s stare of confusion, she broke off and smiled. “…well, never you mind what it looks like, my dear.”
Emily went to the bed then, and busily went about unpacking Merry’s small bag.
“The woman in the portrait. Is that Lord Deverell’s wife?” Merry asked.
Emily flushed. “God, no. Ann was a lovely girl. That creature was mistress to the old Lord. He was an artist. She was his model.”
Merry blushed. She was not sure what to make of Morgan putting her in this dreadful bedchamber.
Then, as if a thought surprised her, Emily’s face snapped up. “Lord Deverell told you of Lady Ann?”
Merry shrugged and sank down on the bed. “Some.”
“Such a tragedy. But, never you mind.”
Emily was at the windows adjusting the jalousie blinds when Merry finally got the courage to ask.
“Mrs. Randall? Why would there be a mirror above the bed?”
Emily met Merry’s unwavering glance, blushed, and then seemed to unbend in rapid waves.
Laughing, she said, “Vanity, I suppose. No one has been in this room so long, I forgot that wretched thing was there.”
She smiled to herself as she went to the door. She paused to turn back to Merry, and was decidedly more friendly.
“Helga will bring you your bath, and if you require anything else, don’t hesitate, my dear.”
Downstairs, Emily went straight for Lord Deverell’s study and shut the door. He was sprawled on a couch reading and didn’t look up at her.
Frustrated, she snapped, “You can be a horrid man at times, Varian Deverell. You didn’t have to play one of your foolish games and put her in that ghastly room to prove your point. You could simply have explained who the girl is, and why she is here.”
Varian closed his book. “I should not have to explain myself, at all, to you.”
Emily sank down beside him. “Fine. I should have known better than to think you’d bring one of your women to spend Christmas with my children.”
Morgan arched a threatening brow at her. Emily ignored it.
Then laughing, pink cheeked and smiling, she added, “I’d forgotten about the mirror above the bed. Poor little thing, she asked me why it was there.”
Morgan only laughed at that. “I hope you didn’t explain, Emily.”
“Of course not.” She pushed her strangling blond hairs from her face and fixed her eyes sharply on Varian. “I’m not going to let you divert me, Varian. Who is the girl?”
~~~
Merry was helped to bathe by two of Morgan’s young maids. To find herself in the custody of gentle women, after so long exclusively in the care of men, was a strange and soothing comfort. They scrubbed her limbs, washed her hair, patted her dry, and then carefully draped her in a blue satin dressing gown.
An angry whinny from outside caught her attention and she went out onto the terrace. Morgan was astride a black horse, which jigged, snorted and fought his efforts to control him.
The angry beast reared once, but Morgan dug his spurs into him, as he struck the animal between the ears with his crop. He pulled him into a tight rein, spurred him, and fought until the animal settled into the force of his command. Then, he was off in a cloud of dirt, into the jungle, and out of view.
It was Lily, spying on her from the far side of the balcony, who pulled Merry’s attention away from Morgan.
“Lord Deverell won’t be back for many hours. Do you want me to come visit for awhile?”
Merry smiled. “I’d like that very much.”
The little girl darted into the room to jump atop that ghastly bed. She fixed her chin in palms and gave Merry a curious study. “Are you going to marry Lord Deverell? Is that why you are here?”
Merry glanced up in surprise. “No, I’m not marrying Lord Deverell. Why would you ask me that, Lily?”
Lily gave a careless shrug. “I hear mama and papa talking at night. They are always whispering about how Lord Deverell should marry again. Now you’re here, so of course I wondered, is she here to marry Lord Deverell?”
Trying to change the subject, Merry asked, “Where did Lord Deverell go? It looks like there is nothing but jungle out there.”
Lily’s eyes sharpened, at once. “Oh, that is a mystery. There is a village on the other side of the island, though we are never permitted to go there. Lord Deverell always takes off in the morning, for hours on end. We are not to ask, and we are not to follow. Mama would not be pleased.”
There was nothing cute about that disclosure. Merry had been with Morgan, long enough, that she didn’t have to think hard to come up with a multitude of unpleasant possibilities to solve Lily’s mystery.
Merry gave a pert nod, though she felt far from light-hearted.
Watching Merry change into a gown, Lily said in a dramatic way, “I’m going to get married, someday. Lord Deverell has promised to take me to America and I shall find my husband there. Is that why you are going to America? Did Lord Deverell promise to find you a husband?”
Startled, Merry responded, “I’m not going to America, Lily.”
“Indeed you are. Lord Deverell said so. So of course, it seemed logical that he was taking you there to find a husband, since you will not be wedding Lord Deverell.”
“I have no plans to marry, ever.”
That confession clearly perplexed the little girl. “Why ever not? I want to marry. Don’t you want a husband? Children?”
That question Merry chose to ignore, though the question brought to her an unpleasant pondering. Would it have been better to stay and marry than never to see her family again? That she asked herself at all, was foolish. She could not undo the events of the past.
When Merry finished dressing, Lily eagerly grabbed her hand, tugging her along out of the bedchamber. “Mama told me to fetch you, at once, when you were ready.”
The air outback was genial, as Merry was guided into Morgan’s terraced garden. There was an unmistakable British look to it, with the neat lawn edged by limestone walkways, the fountains, the benches, and the iron frames dripping with lavender blossoms.
The older boys were studying at their mother’s feet. Young Charles was asleep on a blanket beside her. Emily was busy, a large basket of garments beside her, needle moving efficiently in delicate fingers as she mended a man’s shirt.
The smile Emily gave her over her shoulder was warm and friendly.
“Ah, I get a rest at last,” she said in a satisfied way setting aside her work. “I waited to have tea with you, my dear. Perhaps, you’ll sit with me while the children finish their studies.”
Merry sank into the chair beside Emily, as Lily went back to her books and grass. Watching Emily’s neat moves with the teapot, a thousand uncertainties roiled through Merry. What was Morgan’s relationship to the Randall family? Why had Morgan brought her here, since this was clearly one of his careful guises he should not have wanted her to have knowledge of?
Sipping her tea, Merry didn’t realize Emily was calmly studying her as well.
Merry smiled. “Lord Deverell seems most generous with your family.”
“He is that. Tell me, what do you think of Lord Deverell?”
It was more than a casual question. “I don’t think of him, at all.”<
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Emily laughed. “Aside from the fact that he is not a man that a woman could ignore, your answer is very much a smart one. The less a woman thinks of a man, the better it is for the woman.”
Having no idea what to think of that discreet warning, Merry finally said, “Your children are lovely. You have a magnificent family, Mrs. Randall.”
Emily’s gaze floated her children, as she smiled in satisfaction. “Thank you, my dear. I am a lucky woman. I should hate if anything were to change that.”
Something in how Emily said that, made Merry’s cheeks redden.
Emily carefully tucked her mending back into the basket and rose. “If you’ll excuse me, my dear. I must attend to supper.”
~~~
Merry did not see Morgan again until dinner. He was hunkered down in his study working. Emily made a constant effort to the keep the children and Merry from disturbing him.
Twice Merry passed the open study door, surprised to see him hovered over papers on his desk. There was something oddly normal about the pattern of Morgan’s day. Morning ride. Tea. Long hours in the afternoon, industrious and working in his study. An ordinary man, not a myth at all, but real.
Dinner was a boisterous affair. The children, all except Charles, were permitted at the table. They laughed and talked in an easy flow that held the flavors of a family.
After dinner, Morgan joined them in the evening parlor, brought out a chessboard and set it on the table beside Emily. Something in their manner told Merry this was a familiar routine.
She watched them play until the evening grew late. The irritation of being ignored grew unbearable. She promptly excused herself from the room.
Merry was sitting on her bed, braiding her hair when she heard familiar footsteps beyond her door. Expecting him to pass by, she was startled when Morgan entered without knocking. For all his politesse in front of Emily, his gentlemanly manner obviously did not extend to her. Deeply gasping, she exclaimed, “You could have knocked.”
He gave her a look that made her feel foolish without even an effort. “I apologize. I forgot where we were.”
She tossed the unfinished braid over her shoulder. “So much for the gentle care of pirates.”
He fixed her in a humorous regard that made her blush. “I am wicked past redemption, Little One. Would you like me to leave? Would you like me to start this over and knock? Or, would you like to join me in an evening of the stars?”
An evening of the stars? Her foolish heart responded to that in a doubly foolish way. From the back of a chair, he retrieved a robe. She was disappointed in herself when she put it on.
He extended his hand and peevishly she accepted it. He guided her out onto the darken balcony, down a narrow staircase, and then, she felt foolish a second time, since Thomas obediently sat on the back lawn waiting for them.
“Do you know the names of the stars?” Thomas asked.
Merry sank down beside him, shaking her head. “No, not a one. Why don’t you tell me the ones you know?”
To Merry’s surprise, she found she was fascinated as Thomas went on to point out the constellations, and showed her how to draw a line from Mizar, the second star in the tail of the Great Bear, to find Cassiopeia. He showed her the Little Dipper, and then enthusiastically said, “That’s the North Star at the end of its handle. It’s the most special star in the sky. Do you know why it’s important?”
Charmed by the boy, Merry asked, “I don’t know, at all. Why don’t you tell me?”
With satisfaction, he said, “It is the only star in the sky that is constant. There is more, but I can’t remember.”
After a moment, she chanced a look at Morgan, and found him watching her intently. “It is the star that guides all captains on their journeys. But more importantly, it is the star that guides them home.”
There was something in his low voice that made her shiver. Looking up into his chiseled face, something in how he was staring at her made her heart drum faster, her cheeks grow hotter, and a strange tingling sensation to course through her veins.
Making a silly face at Thomas, she said, “Then, I will let it guide me on my journey to bed.”
She sprang to her feet and hurried up the stairs.
Alone in her room, she tossed and turned all night. She laid awaken listening for Morgan’s firm thread. Hours passed before she heard him enter his chamber.
Sleep eluded her as she listened to him moving about, then to hear if he remained alone in his chamber or if Emily joined him. Much to her displeasure, that was how Merry’s first night on the island passed. Alone in bed listening to Morgan.
~~~
True to Lily’s disclosure, Morgan rose early every morning and was off on his horse into the jungle. Merry breakfasted alone in her bedchamber. But by midmorning, Morgan returned, and sometimes he fetched Merry for a walk, if the children hadn’t already claimed her.
Her days began to wax into a comfortable pattern with him, of morning walks and afternoon talks in the garden. On rarer occasions, a quiet game of chess followed after dinner when Emily excused herself early.
For all Merry’s internal unrest, Isla del Viento was a lovely place, and her days almost idyllic. With the Randalls, Morgan was never Morgan, not even a glimmer of the pirate captain rose to betray his persona as Lord Deverell. He was only those subparts she now considered Varian.
This new persona was as dangerously alluring as Morgan had been on ship. There was an irresistible charm to his ability to savor the simple pleasures, to be found in abundance, on the island.
While logic warned Merry this adventure should not have been pleasant, there was nothing to her days she considered disagreeable.
On this morning two weeks later, she found herself in a small boat with the older children as Morgan rowed them toward an underwater landscape of limestone caverns. He’d set a fish pot the day before with Lily. The girl had roused Merry early that morning, eager to discover what treasures she had trapped.
Listening to Lily’s racing chatter, Merry focused on the starfish speckled walls and the brilliantly colored fish that swirled in the deep green water.
More often than not, when Morgan invited Merry to leave the villa, the children were with them. It seemed to Merry as though Emily deliberately maneuvered this. She wondered at the woman’s relationship with Morgan, since clearly she never wanted Merry alone with him.
It was obvious they shared a deep affection between them, their manner causal and friendly. Yet, Merry knew for certain that Morgan never passed a night in a room with Emily.
She looked at the children, all dark eyed, a mixture of light and dark hued hair. She felt her stomach turn with the suspicions that had haunted her for hours on end.
Two days ago, she had mustered the courage to ask Emily, directly, her relationship to Lord Deverell. Emily’s answer was far from a thorough disclosure, and only added to the suspicions Merry couldn’t bank.
She’d been sitting on a stool in the kitchen watching Emily busily at work, and surprised herself by saying, “Lord Deverell seems to be a very fond of your family. Who are you to him?”
Emily’s face snapped up from the bread she’d been kneading. She smiled. “I am his kindness, Merry.”
At Merry’s frown, Emily slapped the bread dough once against the counter, formed it into a ball, covered it, and then sank down on the stool across from Merry.
“I was born on the wrong side of the blanket,” Emily explained. “That dreadful creature in the portrait in your bedchamber was my mother, the old Lord her benefactor. When Lord Deverell inherited the estate, he found me here not provided for. His kindness possessed him to take on the obligation of me. He saw to my education, and then saw me well settled in marriage to the Captain. He has permitted me to raise my family here and to treat his home as if it were my own.”
Merry sat back, staring at her. Few men would take on the obligation of a woman unrelated to them. Pensioning off the bastard daughter of a man he’d murdered made no s
ense.
“But why? Why would he do such a thing?”
Emily smiled blandly. “Who knows what possesses a man to do anything? You would have to ask Lord Deverell, my dear. I really couldn’t tell you.”
“It is almost Christmas. When do you expect Captain Randall to return? The children seem most eager to see him.”
Emily rose, wiped her hands on her apron, and she said, “He will be here when he is here. A captain’s wife must always be patient, and know that the sea has its own timetable, unconcerned for the wants of a woman.”
Merry was brought back to the present by the raised voices of the children, and the sound of splashing water. Across from her, Morgan and Lily were leaning over the side of the boat.
Soon, the pot was pulled free by his capable hands, a woven cane-work box designed to trap sea creatures. He set in the center of the boat, and the children were atop of it instantly. There were six fish, though an occasional sea shrimp could be found now spotting the floor of the boat.
Across from him, Merry watched as he patiently identified them for the children, trying to answer the rapid fire of questions.
When the children’s inquisitiveness had been satisfied, with glowing eyes, he asked, “So what say you? Do we roast them over a fire or return them to the sea?”
The children heatedly demanded their release. Merry watched in amusement as the pot was quickly returned to the water, and the creatures promptly released.
From the caverns, Morgan rowed them to a small cove, well from view of the villa. He carried Merry from the boat to shore and the children scattered like leaves on the wind.
“Now off with you,” Morgan announced to the children. “I wish to eat my meal in peace.”
The children obeyed without pause. Merry spotted, in surprise, that a picnic had been laid out on a greenbelt several yards away.
The meadow they entered was tranquil, but Merry slowed, wondering why Morgan had done this. She had not been alone with him for many weeks.
Her eyes darted to see where the children had gone. Lily was busy with her gathered flowers, making a colorful chain wreath, far from view in the greenery that edges the beach. Thomas had found something to amuse himself with in the tide pool, on the other side of the cove.