by Diane Gaston
The streets of the town were filled with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen who’d come to see the Vale of Elysium. After Wordsworth’s Guide to the Lakes was published the area became a fashionable place to visit. The war had also contributed. When Napoleon had been amassing his empire, travel to the Continent had been impossible.
Keswick was also a market town where farmers came to do the business of buying and selling livestock. Today sheep were up at auction, and Reid had chosen which ewes and tups he wished to sell and knew the ones he wanted to buy. The farmers showed their sheep in turn, and the others examined the sheep’s feet, teeth, their wool and ears. Edmund shadowed Reid, listening and learning.
He learned the qualities Reid looked for to improve their stock and which rams and ewes they’d bred were prized by others. He also gained new respect for the steward.
* * *
When they were done, they met Amelie and Sally at an inn for an early dinner.
‘What did you buy?’ he asked, gesturing to her stack of parcels.
‘Some cloth. Some soap. Other—’ Something caught her eye and she broke off. ‘My goodness.’
He looked to see.
An older gentleman and lady entered the room with a younger man who leaned heavily on a cane.
‘Fowler.’
The man who was once Captain Fowler and had once made Amelie’s face light up in joy was every bit as dashing as he had been in uniform, even though his civilian clothes showed him to be much thinner. He also had the vacant eye of someone struggling simply to take a step. He and the two people Edmund supposed were his parents were walking directly towards their table. Amelie had frozen, a look of distress on her face.
Fowler, though, walked right up to her. ‘Forgive me, ma’am, but did I once know you?’
Edmund stood. ‘You knew my wife as Miss Glenville. I am Lieutenant Summerfield.’ He used his army rank without thinking.
‘How are you, Captain?’ Amelie said, although it was obvious he was not well. She turned to his parents. ‘Lord and Lady Ellister?’
They nodded, but their expressions were less than pleased.
She continued. ‘I never had the opportunity of meeting you.’
‘We know who you are,’ Lady Ellister snapped. ‘We read of your marriage.’
Fowler still peered at Amelie. ‘My memory is not what it ought to be.’ He looked apologetic. ‘I was wounded in the head. When did I know you, then?’
‘In—in Brussels,’ she said.
‘Ah, that explains it.’ Fowler still had his charming smile. ‘I remember nothing of Brussels.’
Amelie glanced at Edmund before again turning to Fowler’s parents. ‘It was my brother who found your son on the battlefield at Waterloo. My husband helped bring him back to Brussels.’
Fowler, obviously, did not remember. ‘Did you help rescue me, sir?’ he asked Edmund.
‘Yes,’ Edmund replied.
Fowler hooked his cane over his arm and extended his hand. Edmund accepted the handshake.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Fowler said. ‘Are you taking a holiday as well, enjoying the scenery and the fresh mountain air?’
‘We live here now,’ Edmund said.
Fowler’s brows rose. ‘Do you?’ He looked at Amelie again. ‘Why do I think of London when I see you?’
‘I do not know,’ she answered.
He smiled again. ‘A faulty memory means a great deal of frustration, I assure you.’
‘Come, my son,’ his father demanded. ‘We need to find a table.’
Fowler shook Edmund’s hand a second time. ‘I hope we meet again.’ He turned to Amelie and smiled. ‘Ma’am.’
His parents hurried him on.
‘He recovered. He seems to be what I thought he was,’ Amelie murmured as they were out of earshot.
At this moment, if it were not for his cane, he made the perfect picture of what sort of husband she ought to have married.
Her brows knitted. ‘His parents do dislike me, though, do they not?’
‘Disagreeable people,’ he admitted. He supposed they would have heard of him, as well. The bastard son of Sir Hollis Summerfield.
Reid leaned over to him. ‘Who was that, laddo?’
Sally’s eyes were wide. She knew who he was.
‘A gentleman my wife once knew,’ Edmund told him.
‘It was a long time ago,’ Amelie said.
It had not been more than four months, but it did feel like a lifetime ago.
‘Were you at Waterloo, then?’ Reid asked.
‘Yes.’ It was easier to talk of Waterloo. ‘I was in the 28th.’
‘My brother fought there,’ Reid said. ‘In the Connaught Rangers. He made it through.’
‘I am glad of it,’ Edmund said.
Amelie became quiet and seemed miles away.
The encounter with Fowler put a pall over the meal that had begun so cheerfully.
* * *
By night back at the house, Amelie still felt affected by the encounter with Fowler. As Sally helped her get ready for bed, all she could do was think of that night. Of what had happened. Of how completely he’d deceived her.
Was Edmund remembering that night, too, and how Fowler’s deeds had set in motion all that had happened to them since?
Seeing Fowler reminded her once more that she was not like other society misses. She heard his voice again, telling her she was wanton, shameful, no better than Haymarket ware.
How totally deceived she’d been. Even today he had seemed so sweet and gentle. If she’d met him for the first time today, she’d have been equally deceived.
‘It was a surprise seeing Captain Fowler again, was it not?’ Sally said, pulling the brush through her hair.
‘Yes. It was.’ Amelie was not inclined to elaborate.
But Sally looked puzzled and about to burst with questions. ‘May I ask you something?’
‘Of course,’ Amelie said, although she did not want to talk of this.
‘Why were you with Mr Summerfield that night in Brussels instead of Captain Fowler? I remember seeing you with Mr Summerfield in his uniform and all, but it was Captain Fowler who went with you to the ball.’
This was an impertinent question for a lady’s maid to ask her mistress, but it had been Amelie who had encouraged a closer relationship between them.
‘I will tell you.’ Amelie met her eyes through the mirror. ‘Captain Fowler walked me home from the ball, but we quarrelled and he left me on the street alone. Lieutenant Summerfield rescued me from a ruffian who tried to accost me, and he walked me safely back to the hotel.’
Sally’s eyes grew starry. ‘And that is where you fell in love with him?’
Yes. It was probably then, although she had not realised it. He’d been the finest man she’d ever met from the moment he saved her on the street.
She did love him. It hurt how much she loved him, because she still felt uncertain about him. He’d told her he did not regret marrying her, but was that the truth?
She’d been fooled before.
Sally stood waiting for her answer.
‘Yes, I believe that was when I fell in love with him,’ she told her.
‘So it is easy to fall in love very fast, do you think?’ Sally asked.
The subject had turned to Sally, apparently. ‘I do not know about it being easy, but I suppose I am proof that it can happen.’
‘Even if you thought you were in love with another man,’ Sally went on.
Yes, even so. ‘It happened to me.’
Sally put her hair in a plait and stood back, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘But it won’t work the other way around, will it? He won’t love me, not with another man’s baby in me and me lying about being married!’
<
br /> Amelie rose, ready to put her arms around Sally and comfort her, but Sally backed away.
‘Is there anything more you need from me, ma’am?’ Sally asked, wiping her face with her apron.
‘No, but—’
‘I’ll bid you good-night then.’ Sally rushed out the door.
Amelie sat back in the chair.
Had she been wrong to convince Sally to lie about being married? It seemed she was as capable of deceiving as she was of being deceived.
And now she had to face Edmund. The encounter with Fowler had affected him, too, she could tell. It had created a distance between them, when these past few days and nights had been so happy. Would he want her tonight? There was only one way to know. She must walk to the connecting door and ask.
And face the fact that he might say no.
* * *
Edmund stripped down to his shirt and drawers. Somehow, tonight, he did not want to be naked, even though the thin cloth could not be any sort of armour.
He flopped into a chair and waited for Amelie, then wondered what he would do if she did appear.
Her bedchamber door closed and footsteps hurried down the hall. Sally had left. If Amelie was to come it would be soon.
He waited. He rose and paced and took a step towards the door, when it opened.
He loved the way she looked at night in her white nightgown draping her curves and tantalising his senses. He’d undo her plait and free her curls with his fingers. Then the picture would be complete. He’d kiss her and carry her to the bed.
But she remained in the doorway. ‘Do you want me tonight?’
She’d not asked before. ‘Why? Do you not want to come in?’
‘I want to know if you want me.’ She spoke louder.
Did she want him to say no? ‘Only if you want to be here.’
‘That is not my question!’ she cried. ‘You never say! You never tell me what you want.’
‘I do tell you,’ he protested. He did tell her, didn’t he? ‘But it should be as you wish it, not me.’
‘Why can I not know?’ Her voice turned shrill. ‘Why hide the truth from me?’
Now she was being unfair. ‘I never lie to you.’
‘No, you never lie, but you never really tell me, do you?’
‘Tell you what?’ Did he want her to hear that he felt she deserved a better man than him? That she deserved a man like Fowler. Or rather how Fowler appeared to be. Gentle. Refined. Devoid of scandal?
‘I asked you if you wanted me to share your bed tonight. Tell me if you want that.’ She placed her hands on her hips.
‘Only if you want it.’ How much clearer could he be? Would it not be contemptible of him to require her to bed him if she did not desire it?
She made a frustrated sound.
‘What is this all about, Amelie?’ he demanded. ‘Why tonight must I be put to this test? Is it because you saw Fowler?’
‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘Because he reminded me that I can never know if you—or anyone—is telling me the truth!’
He softened his voice. ‘Have I given you any reason to doubt what I say to you?’
She glanced away.
He extended his hand to her. ‘Come to bed, Amelie. We will just sleep. It has been a long day.’
She hesitated but finally took his hand. He did not kiss her, nor did he gather her in his arms. When they reached the bed he did lift her onto it and climbed in next to her, spooning her against him as they’d spent their other nights here. One difference was he still wore his shirt and drawers.
* * *
Sally was too restless to retire to her little room on the second floor. She wanted the fresh air in her lungs. She wanted to gaze up at the stars and wrap herself in the darkness of the night. She grabbed her shawl and a candle and walked downstairs and outside through the conservatory door.
She ran to the middle of the lawn and lay down on the grass to gaze up at the stars, still in their place. She searched for the groups of stars she and Calvin used to find. Lyra and Perseus. Pegasus and Andromeda.
‘What do you see up there?’
She sat up. His voice startled her, but it did not surprise her that he also was outside at night.
‘I am watching the stars,’ she said.
He lay down on the grass beside her. ‘Do you know the names of the stars?’
‘I do.’ She pointed. ‘There is Perseus, holding the head of the Medusa. See the square? That is Pegasus.’
She glanced over at him, but he was not looking at the sky. He was looking at her.
She felt blood rush to her face. ‘You should not look at me like that.’
‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘Ye’re prettier than stars.’
She sat up. ‘Please don’t.’
He sat up, too. ‘Don’t what?’
‘Do not talk like that!’
His face turned serious. ‘Why do you repel my attentions, Mrs Brown? Are they so objectionable to you?’
‘Mrs Brown.’ She felt as though those words were sin itself.
His brow creased. ‘Do you object to my calling you Mrs Brown?’
She could not hold the lie inside any longer. ‘I am not Mrs Brown!’
He continued to stare at her. ‘Who are you, then?’
She wrapped her shawl around her tighter. ‘I am Miss Brown. Miss Sally Brown and I’ve never been married.’
‘Why say you are Mrs and a widow, then?’ he asked, but his voice was low and even.
‘Oh, Mr Reid!’ she cried. ‘Can you not guess?
He kept his gaze on her but finally shook his head.
She rose to her feet. Dropping her shawl, she pressed the cloth of her skirt against her belly. ‘Can you see now? It is starting to show. I am going to have a baby and I am not married.’
He stood, too.
She turned away from him. ‘It was Mrs Summerfield’s idea to tell everyone I am Mrs Brown. A widow. But I cannot like lying to—to you.’
‘Can you tell me about it?’ He spoke calmly.
‘About the father, you mean?’ She swiped at her tears. ‘It was in Brussels. He was going to marry me, but he was killed in the battle.’
He said nothing.
‘I do not want you to think that I—I did what I did with just anyone! I knew him a long time. We grew up together in Hampstead.’
‘Then it is a sad thing he was killed,’ he said. ‘I am sorry for it.’
‘I do not know what will happen to me!’ she cried. ‘What will happen to my baby? Mrs Summerfield says not to worry, but I do. Surely I can’t pretend to be a widow for ever! And what will happen to my child if someone finds out! Will he be shunned? We both will be shunned.’
‘It cannot be as bad as all that if Mrs Summerfield will help you,’ he said.
‘I do not know how. I cannot keep working as a lady’s maid if I have a baby, can I? Whoever heard of such a thing?’ She took several deep breaths to keep from falling apart entirely.
He picked up her shawl and wrapped it around her. ‘You should go inside now. But do not worry. Your secret is safe with me. I will not tell anyone.’
He was being very kind, and it endeared him to her even more than before.
But he was still sending her away.
* * *
The next morning the wall that had risen between Edmund and Amelie was still intact. In the next few days they went through the motions of rising, conversing with each other, talking over the events of the day, as if that cocoon of closeness still bound them.
Curse Fowler, Edmund thought. Why did he have to show up again? Their marriage was built on shaky ground to begin with. Why did he have to put cracks in the fragile foundation they had been building, day by day? Night by night?
Now, again, it seemed in danger of crumbling.
Their days were busy, though, so busy that the only time they spent together was at the dinner meal and afterward. They made love, but almost sadly, as if they were both remembering a giddy pleasure of the past that could be no more.
* * *
Edmund rose early and tried not to wake Amelie.
As he was picking up his boots to leave as quietly as possible, she spoke. ‘Are you off, then?’
‘Yes.’ He and Reid were bound for another market day in another town. ‘What do you do today?’
‘I am going to visit the tenants’ and farm workers’ homes,’ she said. ‘I think I ought to, don’t you?’
He walked back to her and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. She seemed to stiffen at his touch. ‘I think it will be a good thing to do.’
‘I’ll ask what they need. See if anything is amiss.’
‘I have heard no complaints through Reid, but perhaps the wives will tell you more.’ It was an inventory he’d not yet had time to do. He was glad she’d taken the interest.
‘My father will expect some sort of report about the tenants and workers, will he not?’ she said.
‘It is likely.’ He kissed her again, still savouring her lips. ‘I’ll be late, I suspect.’
She nodded.
He left feeling as if he were being crushed by grey clouds.
Chapter Twenty
The sheep auction kept Edmund too busy to think much about Amelie. Today there would not only be sales, but also a show to offer prizes for best sheep. Edmund was beginning to understand what made certain sheep better than others. Some of it was pure theatre—keeping the best sheep out of sight until the judging, then trying to get them in the best position to be seen. Some of it was personal opinion and some the fashion of the moment.
The show was meant to generate excitement for the sales to follow, as well as to show what the judges believed were the highest standards and how well or ill the other sheep met them. The sheep were walked into the judging ring by their breeders, who each tried to get their animal to stand out from the others, by their proud stance or, as Reid was skilful in doing, by getting the sheep on the highest ground so as to be the most visible.