The Captain's Frozen Dream

by Georgie Lee

  He clicked his horse into a walk, bringing it beside her and extending his hand. Red patches of raw skin marred the palms, like old blisters which had healed. It tore at her to see such blinding evidence of what he’d endured, but she was careful to subdue the urge to comfort him. She, too, bore bruises from the last year and a half, only hers weren’t as obvious as his.

  ‘Perhaps we should walk.’ In the face of so many startling events, she could hardly climb in the saddle with him and expect to maintain what little remained of her calm.

  ‘It’ll take too long and we’re already losing the light.’

  He was right, but it didn’t lessen her unease as she placed her hand in his and slid her foot over the toe of his boot in the stirrup. She exhaled with surprise at the strength he used to pull her into the saddle, the vigour which had first caught her notice three years ago when he’d sought out her father’s expertise overwhelming her again.

  She settled herself across his thighs, his chest against her shoulder as troublesome as the front curve of the saddle digging into her buttocks. She shifted, working to keep her balance, worried as much about being this close to Conrad as toppling over on to the ground. She gasped as he slid one hand around her waist to steady her, then took the reins with the other and set the horse in motion.

  ‘What happened between you and Mr Prevett?’ he asked.

  She rocked uncomfortably against him as the steed ambled down the wide lane marked by brown parallel wheel tracks with dry grass growing in between. She kept her back straight, attempting to maintain some distance between them, and ignored the shift of his thigh muscles beneath her own. She didn’t want to tell him, or relive any of the ugly moments of the past eighteen months, especially the night she’d nearly been compromised, but he’d seen too much for her to dismiss it easily. ‘I asked him to drive me to Dr Mantell’s so I could share with him my papers and drawings of Father’s best fossil specimens. Mr Prevett mistook my request as an invitation for something more.’

  ‘Why did he think you might indulge him?’ His body tightened against hers, making her heart race, his solid presence as disturbing as his sudden return.

  ‘Because while you were gone, your uncle did everything in his power to ruin me,’ she retorted, her base reaction to his nearness more unnerving than his question. ‘As you saw, he succeeded.’

  ‘He hasn’t succeeded for good. Whatever he’s done, I’ll undo it and make him pay,’ Conrad said sternly. ‘I promise.’

  She looked down at his wide hand on her stomach, the fingertips spread over her dress. It would be so comforting to lean in to him and believe in his promise the way she used to when they’d lay together in the field above the slate mine with the dust of the rocks still fresh on her hands. Back then, it’d been so easy to trust in Conrad’s love and his promise to treasure her more than any reputation or expedition. Both had been illusions, like a white stone which from a distance looks like something spectacular, but up close is nothing more than a plain rock.

  Pain tightened her chest and she closed her eyes to picture the bones arranged on the small table in her father’s old study, the ones she’d dug from the Downs a week ago. They were clean now, the clinging dirt carefully chipped and brushed away. In her mind, she tried to imagine how each fitted together as she always did, but nothing came to her now. It couldn’t, not with Conrad so close.

  She opened her eyes just as they reached a fork in the road and Conrad urged the horse to the left.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Katie demanded. ‘Whitemans Green is the other way.’

  ‘Heims Hall is closer. We’ll rest there tonight and in the morning I’ll see you home.’

  ‘I don’t want to go there.’ He’d already conjured up too many tormenting memories for her to face more.

  ‘You needn’t worry. Miss Linton should be there and can serve as an appropriate chaperon,’ Conrad offered, as if guessing her concern.

  Katie heaved a weary sigh. It was Miss Linton as much as spending the night at Heims Hall which worried her. The spinster had only ever been grudgingly cordial to Katie; she wasn’t likely to welcome her, or her tattered reputation, with open arms now. More than likely she’d pull Conrad aside and whisper in his ear every disgusting London story the marquis had created and spread, including the one where she’d traded her favours for a single published paper in an obscure journal.

  Katie sagged a little against Conrad. She’d never thought he would come home, so she never thought he would ever have to hear the nasty things being said about her in London. Now he would hear them all. Whether or not he would choose to believe them, especially after what he’d seen today, she didn’t know. Everyone else had been so quick to accept them, so why not him?

  ‘I’m home now, Katie, you don’t have to worry,’ he whispered in the same soft voice he’d used to deliver the news he was leaving for his expedition. It didn’t soothe her any more now than it had a year and a half ago.

  ‘It would have been better if you’d come back sooner.’ Before she’d lost all faith in him and their future together.

  ‘I would have, but the ice had other plans for me.’

  His hand against her stomach eased. Guilt swept over the back of her neck along with the faint caress of his breath. For everything she’d suffered, his suffering must have been tenfold. She laid her hand over his, noticing the slight tremor in his fingers. She squeezed his hand and the shaking stopped. Their future together might be over, but it didn’t mean she didn’t care for him or couldn’t soothe him.

  He didn’t return the small squeeze, but slid his hand out of hers and took the reins. He was pulling away from her and she couldn’t blame him. This wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected. It wasn’t the one she’d pictured either, though she’d given up imagining him returning months ago. Now he was here and she didn’t know what to think or believe.

  Chapter Two

  The countryside around them appeared to Conrad like a dream. Familiar rocks and trees dotted the landscape and the rising full moon turned them a ghostly grey. A cool breeze brushed through the grass flanking the road, and the steady clop of the horse’s hooves filled the night air. Wisps of Katie’s hair danced about the sides of her face, sliding free of the slim pins keeping the tangle of blonde curls together at the back of her head.

  An owl called from somewhere overhead and the horse broke its steady pace. With one hand, Conrad tugged the reins to stop the horse from bolting. With the other, he held on tight to Katie to keep her from falling. The soft inhale his grip provoked proved as jarring to his nerves as the owl’s screech, more so when his manhood stirred at the shift of her buttocks against him. Conrad drew in a steadying breath. In the evening air hung the faint must of wet, fallen leaves mingling with the sweetness of Katie’s rose soap. Without thinking, he drew her closer against him, the heat of her more welcome than any he’d ever enjoyed from the stove deep in the hold of the ship trapped in the hard-packed ice.

  She sat rigid against him, refusing to relax the way she used to whenever they’d ridden out together in search of fossils and time alone. The distance between them unnerved him. He didn’t know the extent of what had happened while he’d been gone, but he could imagine. Without Conrad to protect her, it would have been easy for Lord Helton to set the dogs of society upon a woman of Katie’s humble background. He’d seen his uncle level several such attacks on his mother and knew the vicious lengths the marquis might employ to ostracise and punish those he didn’t think worthy of bearing the Helton family name.

  Conrad adjusted his feet in the stirrups. He’d promised Katie when they’d become engaged he wouldn’t allow society or his uncle to harm her. He’d failed. It was another in a mounting pile of failures and mistakes threatening to crush him like an avalanche.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, the shortness of it still a shock after he’d grown
it so long in the Arctic. By now Henry must have reached London and handed Conrad’s report to Second Secretary of the Admiralty, John Barrow. Conrad could only imagine what fury and damnation awaited his inability to find the Northwest Passage and bring Gorgon home. Mr Barrow had stood beside Conrad before, when Lord Helton had done all he could to prevent Conrad from receiving a command. He didn’t know if Mr Barrow would stand beside him again or viciously denounce him like he had Captain Ross after Ross had failed to explore the bay Mr Barrow believed led to the Northwest Passage. The Second Secretary had been stealthy in his attacks against Ross, penning anonymous articles in widely read magazines and whispering against him to influential members of the Admiralty. No one could ever prove it was Mr Barrow who’d been behind the attempts to discredit and disgrace Captain Ross, but he’d never been fully exonerated either. If an attack was coming, Conrad wouldn’t see it until it was too late.

  The horse rounded a curve filled with trees and Heims Hall at last came into view. Conrad straightened in the saddle, indulging in the sight of it. It’d been a long time since he’d seen the sturdy brick walls lined with rows of familiar windows and the steeply pitched roof. Built in the sixteenth century, it was small and intimate, the home of a man, not the seat of a scion. Only Katie, so solid in front of him, kept him from sliding off his horse to kiss the ground in thanksgiving. There’d been too many times when he’d thought he’d never see such a glorious view again, but he’d fought nature and overwhelming odds to return.

  Not all of his men would have the same opportunity to experience this relief at coming home.

  His hold on the reins eased as the intermittent trembles which had plagued him since Greenland weakened his grip once more. Thankfully, the darkness covered the shaking. It was bad enough Katie had sensed it before. He didn’t want her, or anyone, to know how deep the scars from his expedition ran, or how they continued to strangle his belief in himself and his abilities as a leader.

  Conrad settled back down against the leather and guided the horse around the house to the stables behind, determined to allow the events of the past year to lie tonight. In the morning he’d get to the meat of them. He only prayed the damage wasn’t as bad as instinct warned, either to himself, his career or his future with Katie.

  In the shadow of the stable lamp, a groom rose from where he sat whittling, curls of wood falling over his lap. His eyes went wide at the sight of Conrad before he tossed the stick and knife aside.

  ‘Captain Essington! Why, I don’t believe it.’ Mr Peet hustled forward on his long legs to catch the reins, his joy at Conrad’s return as bright on his face as the light from the lantern. ‘Mrs Peet will be so glad to see ya, everyone will be, well, excepting Miss Linton, she’s never happy to see anybody.’

  ‘It’s good to be home. You remember Miss Vickers.’

  ‘I do.’ He doffed his cap at Katie. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Vickers.’

  ‘And you, too, Mr Peet,’ Katie replied, although her voice lacked the same enthusiasm as the groom’s.

  ‘Oh!’ Katie breathed, as Conrad let go of the reins and slid his hands around her waist. It was smaller than he remembered and she seemed more fragile and vulnerable than when he’d left. She gripped his wrists tight as he shifted her off his lap and lowered her to the mounting block. As she stepped off it, she rocked as if she’d been on the deck of a ship for months, not on the back of a horse for a mile or two.

  Gritting his teeth against the stiffness in his back, legs and hands, Conrad slid down on to the block. He turned to see Katie watching him, worry marring the small lines along the corners of her lips. She’d seen him wince, sensed the slowness of his movements and guessed he was weakened by the north. He turned to the saddle bag to retrieve her satchel, not wanting her or anyone’s pity, not even his own.

  With the small bag in his hand, he stepped off the block, patting the horse’s rump as Mr Peet led it away.

  ‘Shall we?’ Conrad motioned to the house.

  * * *

  The rising moonlight glinted off the large bank of windows making up one wall of the conservatory jutting from the rear of the house. Katie didn’t want to go inside, especially with the light burning in the upstairs window. The flick of a curtain in Miss Linton’s room announced the spinster’s presence and her curiosity. Whenever Katie and her father had stayed here, she had gone to great lengths to avoid the thin, buck-toothed woman. More so after Katie and Conrad’s engagement had been announced. The woman, only a year or two older than Katie’s twenty-five, had always looked upon Katie with as little warmth as Lord Helton. However, they couldn’t stand in the mews all night and Katie accompanied Conrad up the walk and into the conservatory.

  She tried not to look at the marble table in the centre as they passed through the moonlit room, her shoulders brushing the delicate fronds of the many palms filling it. It was too difficult to see the empty top of the table and not think of her father working on the strange tiger-like fossil there in happier times. Through the opposite door, they entered the dimly lit hallway and the scent of scouring soap and wood oil overwhelmed her. Surrounded by so many familiar things, it seemed as if she could reach out and take Conrad’s hand and the past year and a half would vanish. If it did, then all the optimism and faith she’d once possessed in him might return. She kept her hands at her sides, unwilling to expose herself to more disappointment and heartache. She’d spend one night here, then tomorrow she’d leave Conrad and their past behind.

  The hallway opened into a tall entrance hall with a slate floor. In the moonlight coming through the window, she could see the scattering of ammonite fossils embedded in the flat stone. Then the dark imprints of curving shells caught the orange light of a candle from somewhere above them and Katie looked up to watch Miss Linton descend the stairs.

  A plain house dress hung from Miss Linton’s scrawny shoulders and her lacklustre brown hair was pinned in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Unlike the groom, there was no wide smile to lighten her long face. She fixed her eyes first on Conrad and then Katie, her scowl deepening with each step until she was at last in front of them.

  ‘Conrad, what are you doing here?’ It was exactly the sort of dismissive greeting Katie expected from the shrewish woman.

  ‘Cousin Matilda, it’s a pleasure to see you as well,’ Conrad replied with a sarcastic bow.

  ‘Of course, I’m glad you’ve returned safely,’ she replied as if he’d been out in the fields, not presumed dead for nearly a year. ‘It’s certainly most unexpected.’

  ‘Is the guest room and my room as I left them?’

  ‘They are, but the linens haven’t been changed or the fires lit. If I’d received some notice of your arrival instead of being startled at night, things might have been better prepared.’

  ‘A man doesn’t have to send word to his own house.’

  Miss Linton stiffened at the reminder of her place. Frustrated in her effort to enforce some control over Heims Hall, she turned to Katie. ‘Will she be staying here?’

  ‘You mean Miss Vickers?’ Conrad’s voice was low and warning. ‘Yes, she will.’

  The little colour in Miss Linton’s face drained out, leaving her an unappealing shade of white. ‘But, Conrad—’

  ‘We’ll rely on you to serve as an appropriate chaperon.’

  Miss Linton jerked back her shoulders in indignation, as if Conrad had asked her to walk down the high street of nearby Cuckfield naked. ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate for a woman like me—’

  ‘Thank you, Matilda.’ He cut her off, turned to Katie and held out his arm. ‘Shall I escort you to your room?’

  Only the desire to vex Miss Linton prodded Katie to place her hand on the firm muscle beneath the wool coat. ‘Thank you.’

  Conrad guided them around his cousin and they climbed the stairs. His solid form beside her was a welcome c
omfort against Miss Linton’s hostile stares burning a hole in the back of Katie’s dress. If only he had come back sooner, before Lord Helton’s lies had done their damage.

  The staircase curved, taking them out of sight of Miss Linton and Katie removed her hand from Conrad’s arm, reluctant to encourage any intimacy between them.

  Conrad didn’t protest, but continued to escort her down the short hall illuminated by the light spilling out of Miss Linton’s open bedroom door. It filled the narrow space with a wavering amber glow and sharpened the lines of Conrad’s straight nose and strong forehead.

  He stopped before the open door of a bedroom in the middle of the hallway. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of the adjoining rooms at the end, the ones she and her father had occupied when they’d stayed here to study the tiger fossil. There were enough lingering memories to torment her, she didn’t need more.

  ‘In the morning, after we’ve both had some rest, we’ll talk,’ Conrad stated, as if the problems of over a year could simply be surmounted with a conversation.

  She took the satchel from him, careful to keep her fingers away from his. ‘There’s little to discuss.’

  She moved to enter the room, but Conrad shifted between her and the door. ‘There’s everything to discuss. Whatever happened while I was gone to make you think differently of me, I’ll see it set right.’

  Katie fingered the rough spot on the satchel handle where the varnish had been rubbed away during her father’s many trips to visit scientific men. They’d appreciated his ability to find fossils, but not his theories on why the strange animals no longer existed. ‘Conrad, I spent my childhood listening to my father make promises to my mother, one after another. He’d make sure she never regretted leaving her family for him, he’d spend time with her once he was done with this paper or cleaning that fossil. In the end he couldn’t keep any of them.’

  ‘I’m not your father.’

  ‘But you have his passion for work, the all-consuming kind which places itself above anyone and everyone. When you first proposed, I told you I had doubts about entering your world, making myself visible to society. You were so gallant in your promise I’d never suffer and I believed you. Then you left and everything I feared, everything you assured me wouldn’t happen did.’