The Widowed Countess

by Linda Rae Sande

  “I’d hoped you would ... be here ... during the service,” she stammered, briefly glancing toward the gravesite. A collection of headstones were neatly lined up beneath a live oak tree, some several centuries old, their north sides covered in moss. Some were as new as the one that marked her father-in-law’s grave. She’d been present for that burial, too, although she wasn’t yet David’s wife.

  “As I seem to recall, I was here,” David countered, a brow cocking mischievously as he glanced at the broken ground. “Can’t be two places at once,” he added, ducking his head suddenly.

  Clarinda sighed and shook her head. “I suppose not,” she murmured, not the least bit humored by his poor attempt to make her smile again. Closing her eyes, she found herself wondering if he would still be standing in front of her when she opened them again. Please be here, she prayed, a tear forming beneath her eyelid and escaping when she opened her eyes and found David still standing before her, his expression one of concern.

  “Are you ... feeling faint?” he wondered, reaching out to cup her cheek with this hand, the touch so ethereal Clarinda wasn’t quite sure she felt it. But, like everything else in the moment, she couldn’t seem to feel anything. The numbness was at once comforting and a source of concern. Certainly she should feel something. Agony, loss, anger, relief, grief, panic ... something.

  “I miss you so much,” she managed to get out before a sob took her breath. I’m feeling hurt, she realized, the unfamiliar sensation overcoming her ability to feel anything else.

  “Oh, God,” David said as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “You really have to stop this perfect imitation of a watering pot,” he chided her, his chin nearly colliding with the brim of her black hat.

  “I cannot ... help ... help it,” she replied, the tears now flowing freely. Despite the hanky she held in one fist, she allowed the tears to fall onto her pelisse. “I love you. I miss you. My heart ... hurts.”

  David tightened his hold on her, whispering softly as one hand rubbed her back. He pulled away briefly and slid the other between them, laying his palm across her belly. “You have the twins all in a twitter,” he whispered, his stern expression more effective at seizing her attention than the gentle scolding.

  Clarinda’s eyes widened as one of her hands covered his. “Oh, dear,” she managed to get out before she hiccuped and worked hard to arrest her sobs. She wiped away her tears with the hanky. “Are they ... are they well?” she asked then, moving his hand away so that her own was pressed against the wool of her pelisse.

  “They’re fine. They’re probably just hungry,” he replied, his manner suddenly as nonchalant as he’d been before her outburst. “Go on. Get something to eat,” he urged her, waving his hand toward the country manor home atop the nearby hill.

  “I will,” Clarinda replied with a nod, reluctantly moving in that direction. “Come with me?” she invited, hoping he would at least escort her to the front doors.

  David gave a glance toward the Portland stone monstrosity that was the center of Norwick Park. “No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “It’s such a nice day, I think I’ll stay out here.”

  Clarinda regarded him uncertainly before nodding. “If you’re sure. I’ll see you ... the next time I summon you,” she said, her voice sounding brighter than she felt. She turned and began hurrying up the faint walking path toward the house. She looked back, comforted to see that David still stood there, the bottom of one boot and his back resting against the tree while his arms were crossed in front of his chest. But when she was about to reach the first step of the stairs leading into the front doors of the house, she looked back again.

  David was gone.

  Daniel stood in the second floor parlor window overlooking the front of Norwick Park. Off in the distance he could see Clarinda, still dressed in the mourning clothes she’d worn for the burial, standing near where his brother had been buried earlier that day. He wondered if she was weeping, wondered what she might be thinking, wondered if David was somewhere nearby or if he was gone now that he was buried.

  As if he was conjured up by Daniel’s thoughts, David suddenly appeared behind Clarinda, striking a pose that seemed almost carefree. Stunned, Daniel stared at the pair as they seemed to converse with one another. He really is haunting her, too! he realized with a start. Damn him!

  Wishing for a pair of opera glasses, Daniel glanced around the room, looking for something that might act in their stead. A small telescope stood mounted on a tripod, aimed out the north window from his last attempt to discover a comet. He quickly lifted and moved the instrument to the east window, lowering the tube and training the sight on the tree in the graveyard. Peering through the scope’s lens, he readjusted the focus and position until he could clearly see Clarinda and David. Even though she was in profile, he could see she was crying, and for a moment, his heart clenched on her behalf. He hated to see her like this, hated to see her so bereft – perhaps because he knew she mourned for David, but more likely that he never wanted her to be in so much pain. He was sure he could make out the words she was saying. “My heart ... hurts.”

  Daniel pulled his face away from the lens, suddenly ashamed that he would eavesdrop like this, spy on the woman he was determined to make his own. Curiosity pulled him back, though, and he resumed his watch. David was waving toward the house, apparently telling her to leave the gravesite. Clarinda was no longer crying, but she held one hand against her pelisse as if she was cradling her belly. Remembering his brother’s mention of her earlier miscarriages, Daniel felt alarm slam into his gut.

  Afraid something was wrong with the babies she carried, Daniel rushed from the parlor and down the main staircase, his boot heels clicking on the marble as he descended. He was through the hall and vestibule and out the front door just as Clarinda was about to take the first step up to the house.

  “I’ve got you!” Daniel called out, rushing down the stairs to scoop her into his arms. Suddenly airborne, Clarinda’s half-boots kicked into the air, the edge of her white petticoats appearing from beneath her black gown and pelisse just as she let out a squeak of surprise. Her hat, crushed against Daniel’s chest, hid her face from view.

  Daniel hurried back up the steps, a bit surprised at how heavy Clarinda seemed. Of course, she is carrying twins, he reminded himself. And lately, she had been eating as if she carried quadruplets.

  “What are you doing?” Clarinda screeched, her legs kicking up and down as Daniel barely managed to get her up the steps. “Put me down!” Clarinda shouted, kicking her legs so that her skirts hiked up to reveal her black stocking-clad shins and half-booted feet, and tossing her head so that she could get the damned hat out of the way. She had managed to get one arm behind Daniel’s back so that she could pound on it with her fist while she used the other hand to clutch his lapel. In the event he really did put her down, she didn’t want to tumble to the steps below.

  “My darling Clare, I shall get you settled and send for the physician immediately,” Daniel was saying as calmly as he could, his heart racing with the fear he felt for her and the babes she carried.

  The ancient butler, Hildebrand, appeared at the door. His face, usually a model of impassivity, took on a look of alarm as he eyes rounded and one hand went to his mouth. He stepped back to open both doors as Daniel struggled to get his bucking burden through the opening and into the vestibule.

  “Daniel Jonathan Andrew Fitzwilliam, you put me down this instant!” Clarinda cried out, her volcanic emotions seething. Having divested herself of the crushed silk-covered hat somewhere near the top step, she had a clear view of Daniel’s face, of the look of determination and ... was that fear she saw in his eyes? His heart hammered beneath where her hand still clutched his lapel. The fight, and the pent up steam and pressure, went out of Clarinda in an instant.

  Not ready for Clarinda�
��s sudden lack of movement, Daniel nearly dropped her on the black and white marble tiled floor. “Confound it, woman, I am trying to help you,” he whispered hoarsely. Glancing about, Daniel realized there was nothing cushioned on which to place Clarinda, so he merely hurried into the salon just off the vestibule. “This would be much easier if my lady would calm herself,” Daniel said, keeping his tone as even as possible. His heart was racing. Fear was threatening to overcome his calm façade. And something niggled at his brain, something that warned him to heed her ladyship’s words.

  Given she was as calm as she’d been since he’d collected her at the bottom of the stairs, and given Daniel’s repeated pleas to calm down, Clarinda’s temper flared back to life. “I would be far more calm if you would just put me down!” Clarinda insisted again, this time punctuating her words with a punch to his shoulder. The volcano had returned, ready to erupt in a massive explosion that would no doubt leave Daniel with purple bruises and blistered ears.

  “Ow!” Stopping in the middle of the room, Daniel looked down and regarded his burden for several seconds. Beware the volcano, he remembered. Her face was flushed, her anger making her aquamarine eyes turn a stormy green. Under his scrutiny, she seemed to settle a bit, her body no longer fighting his hold. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another. Dormant for the moment, but its power can be unleashed without warning, he remembered reading about some volcano that had taken out an entire ancient civilization.

  Clarinda fought the urge to gasp, stunned at what she saw when she finally looked at Daniel. His concern for her was evident in his face. Drawn and pale, he appeared every bit as fearful as he must have felt. Worried, she realized. For me. She thought to remind him once again that he should put her down, but she thought better of it, thinking he really would drop her on the floor. There was Axminster carpeting below, but Clarinda doubted it would absorb much of the shock of her solidly landing on it. And, at that moment, she found she rather liked being in Daniel’s arms. He was certainly stronger than she would have imagined, given he seemed to be able to hold her up when she was already a stone heavier than usual. In fact, she could feel the muscles of his upper arm bunched behind her back, the muscles of his lower arm bunched under her knees – even through the fabric of her gown and coat. The thought of it caused her breath to hitch, and a pleasant sensation rippled through her belly.

  “Are you ... well?” Daniel asked then, his words so quiet she had to read his lips to be sure she heard them correctly.

  “I am fine, really,” she replied with a nod, opening her fist so her palm rested on the front of his coat. She felt his racing heartbeat beneath the fabric, wondered at his fear for her. Her other arm snaked up his back so she could grip his shoulder from behind. “What were you ... thinking?” she whispered then, noting how very much like David he looked just then. His hair was only a shade darker, probably because he’s spent far too much time indoors working on estate matters when he could have been out riding or fishing or hunting. The golden highlights were just then glinting in the late afternoon sun that filtered through the salon windows. The scar next to his eye was barely visible; perhaps in a few years, it would be completely gone, and then he really would look exactly like David. He was certainly stronger than David; she rather doubted her husband would have been able to hold her like this as long as Daniel had. And he had even carried her up the steps with her fighting him every step of the way.

  “I thought you were ... in distress. You looked as if ... as if something was ... wrong,” he stammered, never taking his eyes from hers.

  Clarinda shook her head. “I ...” She had only ever seen that look of fear one other time, seen it on the face of her husband when he’d been summoned to her room as she lay bleeding from her first miscarriage. Something clutched at her chest just then, a sensation she probably would have recognized if her present situation wasn’t so otherwise unexplainable. “What do you think is wrong?” she whispered then, just then realizing she hadn’t let go of him so that he could put her down.

  Daniel frowned. “You had your hand ... you looked as if you were ... in pain,” in managed to get out. He took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh.

  “Pain?” she repeated, her brows furrowing as she tried to reason how he would have come to that conclusion. “I am hungry,” she complained, her breaths finally coming in even bursts.

  “Oh,” Daniel exhaled, nodding his head as if he finally understood. He glanced about the room, deciding Clarinda was truly growing heavier by the moment. Noticing the Greek lounge near the north window, he moved there and settled her down onto it, keeping an arm around Clarinda as he sat next to her.

  Her energy spent, Clarinda removed her hand from his lapel and loosened her arm from around his back. Without the weight of her hanging onto him, Daniel nearly lost his balance. He righted himself, noticing his thigh brushed hers as he did so.

  “I was speaking with David,” she blurted out then, not intending to actually admit she saw her late husband down by his grave.

  “I know. I was ... I was watching,” Daniel admitted, wincing when he realized his words made it sound as if he’d been spying on them. When one of her eyebrows shot up, he added quickly, “I didn’t intend to, I promise, Clare.”

  “You saw him?” Clarinda whispered, stunned at his comment. If Daniel saw David’s ghost, did others as well?

  “Yes. Unfortunately,” Daniel answered with a nod. “He has been haunting me since my arrival at Norwick House.” The air seemed to go out of him all at once as his gaze settled on Clarinda. Several pins were missing from her hair. A long, thick lock of brunette silk lay across her throat while another trailed over one shoulder. Her skirts and petticoats were left barely covering her knees, leaving her black stockings exposed. They enhanced her shapely calves, which curved down to dainty ankles that barely showed above her black half-boots. Despite her state of dishabille, she was beautiful. More beautiful than he could have imagined. And he was about to put voice to the sentiment when he remembered they were discussing how David had been haunting them.

  “When you said David had told you things, I didn’t realize he was haunting you, too,” he stated, using his now-free hand to unfasten the buttons of her coat. He straightened her so he could help remove the garment. Her bonnet fell from her lap in the process, but she ignored it as it rolled away from them.

  “I would not say he was haunting me,” she countered, her eyebrows indicating she took a bit of umbrage at his comment. “Just ... visiting and ... checking on me and the babies,” she explained, her face suddenly flushing when she realized she could not tell him he had kissed her. Even made love to her the night before last and held her close just last night. That had been heaven, to be held and caressed and pleasured as if she was made of bone china, much like Daniel’s fingers were caressing her face and throat right now.

  Daniel frowned. “Does he ... visit you in your bedchamber?” he asked, remembering her words to Lady Torrington when she had mistaken him for David.

  Clarinda’s face suddenly reddened with embarrassment. “A few times, although it was usually to tell me ...” She stopped. She couldn’t tell Daniel what David had said. She couldn’t tell him that David insisted she marry Daniel! “To tell me about the babies,” she managed to get out.

  Daniel was about to ask about her feelings on the subject when his mother appeared in the doorway.

  “What, pray tell, is going on here?” Dorothea Fitzwilliam demanded as her fists took purchase on her hips. Somehow her face managed to display an expression that made her appear both scandalized and extremely satisfied by what she was witnessing.

  How does she do that? Clarinda wondered, suddenly realizing her thigh was pressed rather solidly against Daniel’s thigh while the edges of her petticoats and most of her calves were on display. She decided to leave her thigh exactly where it was. Let my mothe
r-in-law think what she will. Reaching over her knee, she shook out her skirts so they would settle back down to her half-boots. At least she could display some sense of propriety.

  How does she do that? Daniel wondered at seeing his mother’s expression. He considered moving his thigh a bit to the right, but decided his thigh rather liked where it was. He made no move to move it. He felt a bit of satisfaction when he realized Clarinda didn’t mean to move her thigh, either. “Is everything alright, Mother?” Daniel wondered, realizing just then that his thigh had to move – a lady had just entered the room. He stood, reluctantly, and gave a bow in his mother’s direction. Clarinda, bless her heart, remained exactly where she was.

  “Well, obviously,” Dorothea responded, her arms spreading out to her sides. “Why, this is the best news I’ve had since Wally said he was paying a visit to Rundell and Bridge!”

  “Wally?” Clarinda repeated in a whisper, remembering when she’d last said the name. Adele had overheard it when she came to see her off the day before.

  “Wallingham,” Daniel clarified, his own voice barely a whisper. He had to suppress a shudder at the realization that the viscount might soon be his step-father. The man may have been responsible for the shot that killed his brother.

  “What news is that, my lady?” Clarinda called out, her brows furrowing in confusion.

  Dorothea frowned as she gave her son one of those Meaningful Looks. She had obviously jumped to an incorrect conclusion. Although, Daniel realized later, if he thought about it just a bit more, he could have used the opportunity to inform Clarinda she would be marrying him. He was rather glad that he didn’t inform her of the fact just then, though – she would have been incensed at being informed she was to marry him. No, it was far better that they have the opportunity to discuss the issue in private, perhaps when they were naked in bed, when she was replete with having been pleasured within an inch of her life and was unable to argue convincingly. Of course, that would require that he be of sound mind, and he rather doubted he could ever be accused of having a sound mind and certainly not a sound body when he had just made love to her. He wasn’t sure he was recovered from their last encounter. Since Clarinda seemed to believe David had been the one to visit her in her bedchamber, Daniel thought he could just consider that last encounter a practice session.