The constant heart

by Mary Balogh

  "Oh!" Harriet said, her hands clenched into fists at her side, "You are always saying that. You are beginning to sound like a parrot who has learned only one phrase. Get away from here, Mr. Carver. I do not need you or anyone else telling me what I should do."

  Rebecca finally regained the use of both her feet and her voice. She rushed forward. "Harriet," she hissed, "what is going on here?"

  "Oh, not you too, Rebecca," Harriet said crossly. "The whole militia will be here soon."

  "You were not really planning to elope, were you?" Rebecca asked incredulously, but she glanced at Harriet's pelisse and at the two bandboxes that had been half hidden beneath the seat of the curricle, and looked back accusingly at her cousin. "Oh, Harriet," she said, "how could you? I did not think that even you could be so lacking in conduct. You must come back with me at once to Maude. We must be very thankful that you have been discovered before it is too late."

  "Ah, and here comes Sinclair too," Mr. Bartlett said. "The whole righteous crew. Are you forever to dog my footsteps, Sinclair? I quite fail to see what concern Harriet is of yours. However, it does seem that there is to be no elopement tonight. One can hardly wave good-by to a farewell party when one is eloping. The effect would be quite ruined."

  Rebecca, glancing briefly at Christopher, was amazed to see just how furious he was. She was suddenly afraid and caught at Harriet's arm in an attempt to remove her from the scene. But Harriet shook off her hand impatiently.

  "Leave me alone, Rebecca," she said. "And all of you can go to the devil for all I care."

  To her chagrin no one appeared to pay her the least attention except Rebecca, who caught at her arm again.

  "Come away, Harriet," she said urgently. "There is going to be violence here."

  Christopher had moved across to stand in front of Mr. Bartlett, beside his friend. "Stand back, Luke," he said. "This is mine. Your behavior here is very much my concern, Bartlett," he said, his voice shaking with such anger that Rebecca pulled anew at Harriet's unresponsive arm. "I should have killed you several years ago, or at least punished you to such a degree that you would never have attempted anything like this ever again. I let you go then, thinking you were beneath my contempt. This time you will not escape so lightly. This time you have committed the mistake of making an innocent though headstrong young girl of good family your victim. You had better prepare to defend yourself."

  He began methodically to remove his coat and roll back his shirt sleeves. Without turning around or removing his eyes from his adversary, from whose face the unruffled calm had vanished, he said, "Becky, will you take your cousin away from here, please? What is about to happen is not for the eyes of ladies."

  Suddenly Harriet's arm was no longer resistant. She looked at Rebecca, bewildered, the beginnings of fear in her eyes.

  "Stop them!" she said. "Stop them, Rebecca."

  "Come," Rebecca said calmly, "we will go and find Maude. I don't believe there is any way to stop this fight, and 1 am not sure I would try even if I thought there were."

  Harriet allowed herself to be led around to the front of the parsonage and out into the street. It seemed something of a shock to both that the crowds and the noise and the dancing were proceeding just as they had been all evening.

  Yet they were not the only ones who were not involved in the festivities. As they drew closer to the crowd, they became aware of Mrs. Sinclair and Ellen hurrying toward them.

  "Ah, thank goodness," Mrs. Sinclair sang out when they were still several yards distant. "We have searched all over the place for you two young ladies. Mr. Sinclair and Julian have gone looking in the other direction. And Christopher is nowhere to be seen either."

  "What has happened?" Rebecca asked.

  "My dear," said Mrs. Sinclair, "a servant came riding in from Limeglade to say that his lordship has taken a turn for the worse and that Dr. Gamble was to come and Lady Holmes. Poor lady! She was almost distracted what with blaming herself for leaving him and looking in vain for Harriet. 'You take our carriage, your ladyship,' I said, 'and leave everything else to us. We will see that Harriet comes home as soon as may be.' Julian was going to drive her, but the Reverend Everett was kind enough to take her himself. He will be a comfort to her and to Lord Holmes if he really is poorly."

  "Papa?" Harriet said rather shakily. "He is really sick? I must go to him at once. Rebecca, come with me, will you?"

  "Yes, of course," Rebecca replied. "We shall take the gig at once. It is such a bright moonlit night that there will be no trouble seeing our way."

  "Not alone," Mrs. Sinclair said firmly. "I will not hear of it, my dears. Julian will take you when he comes back from searching for you in the other direction. Ah, thank goodness. Here comes Christopher."

  They all turned to watch him walk along the street beside Mr. Carver. To Rebecca's searching eyes, he looked quite as calm and immaculate as he had looked earlier in the evening. There was no sign of Mr. Bartlett.

  "Christopher," Mrs. Sinclair called, "here are the Misses Shaw with an urgent need to return home. Poor Lord Holmes has taken a bad turn and the doctor and the ladies have been sent for. The vicar has taken Lady Holmes already and left the gig for the young ladies. And I have just been saying that I will not hear of them going off alone."

  "Indeed not," he said, looking with quiet sympathy at Harriet and Rebecca. "I shall accompany them, Mama. You need not worry. We had best leave immediately. Will you take my arm, Miss Shaw?" These last words were directed quite gently to Harriet, who indeed was looking as if she was not capable of getting anywhere under her own power.

  It was an almost silent journey. Rebecca could not guess what Christopher's thoughts might be. He appeared perfectly calm, and there was no sign that he had just been involved in a fight-no black eyes or bloody nose or split lips. She longed to ask him what had happened, where Mr. Bartlett was now, how Mr. Carver had discovered the elopement plan, why he had been quite so angry with Mr. Bartlett, what exactly he had meant by his references to the past, if he was nursing some broken ribs or some other ghastly but invisible injury.

  She wanted to question Harriet, to find out why the girl had been about to elope with Mr. Bartlett, where they had planned to go, what they had planned to do afterward. Her head teemed with enough questions to keep them all talking nonstop during five journeys from the village to Limeglade. But she said nothing. And what of Uncle Humphrey? Had the doctor been right and was he now really ill?

  "It is all my fault that Papa is ill at all," Harriet said from her seat between Rebecca and Christopher. Her voice was unusually subdued. "That journey to Cenross Castle was just too much for him. Do you think he is really ill, Rebecca?"

  Rebecca murmured something soothing.

  "I know what you are both thinking," Harriet blurted a little later. "You both despise me."

  "I believe your cousin loves you simply because you are her cousin," Christopher said. "And my feelings are merely ones of relief that you have been rescued from the clutches of an out-and-out bounder. You need not fear recriminations from either of us, I think, Miss Shaw."

  "But I deserve to be despised!" Harriet said vehemently and quite unexpectedly. "It was a stupid thing to do. I only did it because Maude tried to separate us. I had not even thought seriously of marrying Mr. Bartlett before that. But I could not let her think that I would give in meekly to her bidding. I really am too stubborn for my own good."

  Neither of her companions said anything to contradict this opinion of herself that Harriet had given. She looked down at her hands for the remainder of the journey home and said no more until Christopher drew the horses to a halt outside the main doors of the house.

  "I do hope Papa felt better once he saw Maude," she said.

  But when they went inside, a poker-faced butler directed them to the drawing room, where they found Maude and Philip standing at opposite sides of the empty fireplace. Maude, her face deathly pale, came hurrying across the room when they entered, her hands outstretched to Ha
rriet.

  "My dear," she said, "it was much worse than we could have imagined. He is gone, Harriet." Her eyes, fixed on her stepdaughter's, were dazed.

  "What?" Harriet said on a gasp. "Papa is-dead? No, he cannot be. I won't believe it. I must go to him now."

  "No," Maude said, catching Harriet by the shoulders as she turned. "We shall both see him afterward, Harriet. But not just yet. He is gone, dear. Your papa is dead. He had a heart seizure."

  And Maude pulled the stunned girl into her arms.

  Rebecca had not moved. She still stood just inside the door. She looked across the room to Philip, whose eyes were fixed on Maude and Harriet, and back to the doorway to Christopher, whose hand was still on the handle of the door.

  It was Christopher who strode across to her, put a firm arm around her shoulders, and led her to a chair before crossing the room and pouring them all a drink of brandy from the decanter that was always kept on a sideboard there.

  Chapter 16

  Maude, Harriet, and Rebecca were sitting in the garden. Each was wearing deep mourning, black shawls in place over black dresses. Early autumn was already in the air.

  "It is all my fault," Harriet said, staring listlessly ahead of her. "Papa would never have died had I not insisted on going to Cenross Castle for my birthday. No one else wanted to go, but I would insist. And he had to climb all that way up the hill and sit in a windy courtyard for a full afternoon. And then I scared him by going down to those infernal dungeons and hurting my ankle. I had no idea that his heart could not stand the strain. Oh, I am so selfish! I killed Papa."

  "Nonsense, Harriet," Rebecca said. "Of course you did not kill him. Your papa was an adult. He could choose for himself where he wanted to go and where not. And what was more natural than that a young girl whose birthday falls in August should want to go on an outing for the occasion? You must stop blaming yourself. Grief is hard enough to cope with without that."

  "Yes, dear," Maude said, "Rebecca is quite right. You are in no way to blame. Your papa was afraid of fresh air and exercise. If he had taken his normal share of both through the years, I am sure his heart would not have weakened as it did."

  "I would not even have been here on the night he died if it had not been for Mr. Carver," Harriet said drearily. "I am the most selfish, thoughtless creature in the world."

  "I think perhaps we should take a short walk, Harriet," Rebecca said, getting decisively to her feet. "There is nothing like exercise to calm the mind." She turned to Maude. "Mr. Carver was the one who brought Mr. Sinclair along in time to drive us home from the village that night," she explained, No one had told Maude of the failed elopement plan. She had had enough to cope with in the week that had elapsed since the death of her husband, receiving calls and preparing for the funeral two days before. Everyone who knew avoided the subject of her brother and left her to assume that Mr. Bartlett had decided to return to London the night of the fair instead of waiting until the next day. Indeed, Rebecca guessed that she was secretly relieved that her brother had not delayed. Had he done so, he might have used Lord Holmes's death as an excuse to stay awhile longer.

  Harriet rose listlessly and obediently to her feet. She had been unusually docile in the past week. She and Rebecca strolled together along the winding driveway toward the gate.

  "Harriet," Rebecca said when they were out of earshot of the garden, "please do not let Maude know what happened on the night of the fair. It would be very upsetting to her to know that about her brother."

  "I think she already knows what he is like," Harriet said, "or she would not have gone to such lengths to warn me off. I have been such a fool, Rebecca. I did not even particularly like the man. I certainly did not wish to marry him. But I always have to assert my independence. I feel greatly mortified to think that several people had to become involved in order to rescue me. But I must admit that I am glad I was stopped. I would be married to him by now. And Mr. Carver has told me terrible things about him since that night."

  "Well, it is all over," Rebecca said, "and I think it is best forgotten. You have learned a lesson from it, Harriet, and that is the important thing."

  "He wants to marry me," Harriet said suddenly, a hint of the old spirit showing through the indignation in her voice.

  "Who wants to marry you?" Rebecca asked, her stomach lurching uncomfortably.

  "Mr. Carver," Harriet said. "Can you imagine, Rebecca? He wants to marry me. The nerve of the man!"

  "He has asked you?" Rebecca asked incredulously.

  "Yesterday, when he walked over here with Ellen and Primrose," Harriet said. "He did not exactly ask me, but he did say that with Papa gone I should need someone to look after me, someone who would not be afraid to tell me a few home truths. And someone to give me a good thrashing once in a while. Horrid man!" Her voice quivered with indignation.

  Rebecca had a hard time keeping her face straight and her voice steady. "How do you know he was talking about himself?" she asked.

  "Because I asked him!" Harriet said. "And he said that he would he committing himself to a life sentence if he took on the task, but he might be persuaded to do it. I really could have thrown something at him, Rebecca, and I would too, but the only thing to hand was that Wedgwood vase that Maude sets such store by. And I really did not think he was worth a Wedgwood vase and Maude's tears."

  "What will you do if he really does offer for you?" Rebecca asked curiously.

  "I shall give him such a length of my tongue that he will never forget it!" Harriet said vehemently. "Horrid, presumptuous man. Though the challenge would be almost irresistible. It would be great sport to marry him and to bring him so under my thumb that he would cringe if I so much as looked at him. That would teach him a lesson."

  "Yes," Rebecca said dryly. "But somehow, Harriet, I do not think it could be accomplished. And what would happen then?"

  Harriet considered. "Then I should probably have a sore posterior a few times," she said. "And I should probably fall in love with him because I have always longed to meet a man who would not put up with my whims and tantrums. Horrid man! He could never do it." She smiled.

  Rebecca lapsed into silence, content with some very interesting thoughts for the moment. Harriet and Mr. Carver. It was almost too preposterous for belief. But-it just might work. Her attention was caught after a while by the sound of horses' hooves and the almost immediate appearance of Christopher and Mr. Carver riding towards them along the driveway.

  "Horrid man," Harriet muttered. "Here he comes again. I thought he and Mr. Sinclair were supposed to leave the day after the fair. Why did he have to stay and plague me with a visit every day since?"

  "I believe they stayed to lend us some support," Rebecca said hastily, and composed her face to greet the two men, who were soon close to them and dismounting from their horses.

  They turned back toward the house, Harriet walking ahead with Mr. Carver, and Rebecca and Christopher behind.

  "How are you, Becky?" Christopher asked. "I was unable to come over here yesterday. It must be something of a relief to you and to Lady Holmes and Miss Shaw to have the funeral over."

  They talked about inconsequential matters as they walked. Rebecca had at least part of her attention on the couple ahead of them. Harriet had chin and nose in the air in a theatrical effort to be disdainful. Mr. Carver walked along at her side, his face solemn, his shirt points digging sharply into his cheeks. They did not talk much.

  Maude was still sitting in the garden when they reached the front of the house. With her was Philip. He hastily dropped her hand when the others came into sight.

  "Lady Holmes," Christopher said, walking forward, his hand outstretched. "How are you?"

  Maude smiled. "Better," she said. "Now that Lord Holmes has been laid to rest and the will read, we can begin to recover again. Poor man. None of us realized just how ill he really was, even though Dr. Gamble had warned me that he might have a weak heart. I am very grateful to all your family and to Mr. Carver, Mr. Sinc
lair, for all the support you have given us in the last week. I really do not know how we would have gone along without you. I understand that you and Mr. Carver have even postponed your departure in order to be with us."

  "We leave tomorrow," Christopher said. "We have ridden over here this afternoon to say good-by. What are your plans, Lady Holmes? Will you remain here?"

  "Oh, yes," she said, glancing hastily at Philip, "I shall stay here with Harriet for our year of mourning, anyway. Neither of us can really make plans for the future until then."

  Rebecca did not think it would be obvious to any of the others. She hoped it was not so; it would have been somewhat unseemly with Uncle Humphrey dead for only one week. But to her the rosy glow in Maude's cheeks and the almost chiseled set to Philip's face said worlds. Only time would tell, of course. But she would be very surprised if there were not a wedding to celebrate in little more than a year's time. And she would be very happy for them. They would suit.

  "Miss Shaw," Mr. Carver was saying, "will you walk a little way?"

  "If I do," Harriet said tartly, "I want Rebecca to come too. I am too young, sir, to be alone with a gentleman."

  Rebecca and Christopher exchanged a straight-faced grin. Now how could she know that he was grinning when not a muscle in his face had moved? she wondered. Probably in the same way that he would know she was smiling! They had often been able to communicate without words or even facial expressions.

  Mr. Carver made a slight bow in Rebecca's direction. "Miss Shaw," he said, "can't I interest you in a walk? Your cousin has suddenly turned respectable."

  "Suddenly!" Harriet muttered, taking his proffered arm disdainfully. "Stay close, Rebecca."

  They did not walk far, just a short way into the pasture. There Mr. Carver stopped, ascertained that they were out of sight of the group in the garden, and turned to Harriet.

  "Don't know if you really want to embarrass Miss Shaw by having her here," he said. He paused for her reaction.

  Harriet had turned rather pink in the face, but she looked severely back at him. "Rebecca," she said, without turning her head, "don't you dare move away."