A Secret Passion

by Sophia Nash

  Harry arranged her sidesaddle on his aged horse, laughing the entire time. He then moved to her spirited animal and was successful in his endeavor of placing his saddle on the young mare only after Jane moved to soothe her.

  The party trotted eastward toward the beach of Porthcurno following the winding dirt path through Pembroke’s fields and hedges. Two miles further brought them to a small fishing village, where large, disassembled timber balks marked the outskirts of the parish. These were laid across the small harbor during winter to block the worst of the winter gales. Jane was explaining the practice to Sir Thomas when the carriage drew parallel to the mounted group. Miss Dodderidge called out to them and waved her bright handkerchief. The exercise of the morning had failed to dampen the spirits of the skittish mare, and the sight of the handkerchief set the horse into a dead run. Poor Harry had let the reins dangle freely as they walked through the village to give the animal a rest.

  The group watched helplessly as Harry’s mount galloped through the treacherous cobblestone streets of the village, slipping as she bucked and swerved. Jane knew that going after him would only further frighten the mare. With fifty feet of slippery cobblestone left before the dirt path resumed on the far side of the village, the horse lost her footing and went down with Harry astride.

  Jane had already dismounted, along with William Thompson and the earl. As she ran toward Harry she felt as if time moved forward too slowly and that a tunnel had formed between her and a quite motionless Harry. She reached him just as the horse was trying to right herself, pushing her front legs into a position to be able to stand up. An oath escaped Harry’s lips. With a soothing voice, Jane spoke to the mare and rapidly disengaged Harry’s foot from the stirrup, which had been lodged beneath the horse.

  He was pale and barely conscious as Jane urged the mare away from him. William took the reins and walked the shaking animal to the earl before returning. Jane listened to Harry’s shallow breathing, patting his hands and calling out to him as he slipped into unconsciousness. She noticed, with a wretched feeling, that Harry’s ankle lay at an unnatural angle. A babble of female voices, marked by the high-pitched shriek of Miss Dodderidge, moved closer. Jane glanced at the earl, who intercepted the group and insisted on their restraint.

  “Oh, but, my poor, dear, brave Mr. Thompson,” wailed Miss Dodderidge.

  “Pray, Miss Dodderidge, please attempt to keep your wits about you,” Lord Graystock said dryly.

  “Oh, but I must go to him, this instant.”

  “No, my dear, you must not,” he responded as his arm intercepted her wrist.

  “Miss Dodderidge, please stay back and comfort Harry’s sisters,” Jane insisted without looking at the foolish girl.

  Sir Thomas had joined Jane to feel Harry’s neck and head, when his eyes reopened. Jane brushed the hair from Harry’s forehead and spoke to him. “It’s all right. You fell off the mare. Don’t try to move just yet.”

  Harry groaned and tried to sit up. “Really, I’m all right, I think. It’s just this cursed ankle.” He lay back down and closed his eyes. “Just give me a few moments, please.”

  William came forward from a nearby inn with a pitcher and glass. “Harry, do you want some water?”

  Jane retrieved a handkerchief from Harry’s coat and dipped it into the pitcher of water. She cleaned his dusty face and the small cut on the side of his brow.

  “I’ve really gotten us all in a scrape now, haven’t I?” Harry said as he propped himself up on his elbows.

  “Not for the first time,” Jane responded. “Do you want to try and get up?” Sir Thomas and William moved into position and hooked their arms under Harry as he stood on his one good leg.

  “How do you feel?” William inquired.

  “Like I’ve just been trampled, thank you,” he said as he straightened his dirty, patched coat. “But I’ll survive.”

  “Dr. Coopersmith should see that ankle,” William suggested.

  “Let’s send word to him right away,” Sir Thomas said as he motioned to the pub’s serving girl standing nearby.

  “No, no, I won’t ruin our outing. Dr. Coopersmith is only half a mile from here, right next to the beach where we had planned our picnic,” Harry insisted.

  “Harry, don’t be ridiculous,” Jane said. “We’re taking you back to the manse, straightaway.”

  “No, no, I’ll not be the cause of spoiling all our fun. Just help me into the carriage. Come on. I want to show our guests Logan Rock as promised.”

  Jane noticed that the earl had been watching the scene unfold without a word. Color had returned to Harry’s face, and his body movements proved that only his ankle had been affected by the fall. Sir Thomas had signaled to her and the earl that Mr. Thompson’s head appeared undamaged. Lord Graystock moved forward and told the carriage driver to tie the reins of Jane’s mount, Boots, to the back of the carriage and arranged for the saddle to be switched to his horse. Harry was placed between Fanny and Miss Dodderidge amid much cooing. After checking the nervous mare’s legs and flanks, Lord Graystock swung onto her back with practiced ease.

  Jane swallowed her desire to insist that she ride her own horse. Instead she mounted the earl’s gelding with Sir Thomas’ assistance and followed the carriage the rest of the way, enduring the feminine nonsense trailing the vehicle.

  The doctor confirmed what everyone suspected and prescribed immobilization of the badly sprained ankle for several weeks. The doctor splinted the ankle while Harry’s face remained tight and pale. As Clarissa herded most of the group toward the door, Jane had a moment to lean toward Harry.

  “I’m sorry, Jane,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry too, about your ankle. Does it hurt dreadfully?”

  “No, not really. But, Jane, this needn’t change anything. Don’t worry, we’ll find a way.”

  “You’re not to think of that right now. We’ll make a new plan. Let me think a bit,” Jane replied. Her head throbbed as she massaged her temples. She looked up to see the earl watching her beneath hooded eyes. She didn’t care. Really, she didn’t. She didn’t even care if he had heard their entire conversation.

  The earl walked over to her. “Mrs. Lovering, would you like the doctor to give you something for your headache?”

  “No, thank you, sir. I do not have the headache.”

  “Are you always this contrary? Or do you just insist on favoring me with this behavior?” he said just loud enough for her ears only.

  “No, sir. I was unaware of your misconception of my behavior. I shall endeavor to ensure that your opinion of me changes for the better,” she said with a false smile.

  “I say, my stomach is rumbling. Shall we proceed to the cliffs for the picnic?” Harry said with a smile.

  Miss Dodderidge rushed forward and clung to Harry’s hand. “My dearest friend, I shall find the choicest morsels for you. Please allow me to do this little thing for you,” she insisted while batting her eyelashes.

  “Of course, my dear, “ Harry said, favoring her with a grin. The earl and William assisted him to his feet and his crutch. His bandaged lower leg was impressive enough to ensure repeated girlish fawnings for at least the duration of the outing.

  Upon reaching the small cliffs overlooking the sea, the gentlemen helped Harry navigate the short distance to the site. The ladies arranged the blankets and the picnic, and as promised, Miss Dodderidge stationed herself next to the injured man to fuss over him. At least Harry seemed to be enjoying the attention.

  Jane sighed and walked to the cliff. She stopped and closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh, moist scent of the Atlantic Ocean. She looked below the palisades and watched the swirling surf crash into a huge solitary rock below. Winding up the less steep portion of the cliff, a path twined like a pale serpent.

  Lord Graystock moved next to her and shaded his face with his hand. Jane noticed the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and the whiteness of his teeth as he squinted. His starched white linen cravat contrasted with his
bronzed, angular face.

  He motioned to a promontory point and asked, “Is that the famous Logan Rock?

  “No, my lord. It is just over there, near the jagged ridge. The large roundish rock.”

  “Oh, yes, I see it now. Shall we walk over to examine it?”

  Reluctantly, Jane walked toward the rock, taking the earl’s offered arm. She could feel the outline of his coat and where the shirtsleeve poured out of it. His arm was broad and firm. Her fingers rested on the familiar, strong hand with tanned skin warmed by the sun. She felt awareness of his body prickle her skin as she shivered involuntarily.

  “May I offer you my coat, Mrs. Lovering?”

  “No, thank you, my lord. The sun is quite hot, actually.”

  They walked the short distance to the landmark in silence, neither one of them capable of maintaining the flow of conversation. They stopped in front of the huge boulder. Lord Graystock passed his hands over the face of the rock and pushed. As discussed the night before during supper, the rock moved from side to side.

  “Amazing,” he said in surprise.

  “It is said to weigh sixty tons,” added Jane.

  “And no one has dared push it off its base? A remarkable feat of restraint.”

  “Yes, we Cornish are a restrained lot. No one from here would dare disturb this landmark.”

  “Are you a restrained creature?”

  “I would not know. That is for my acquaintances to decide.” Jane was embarrassed, given events of the recent past. He exhibited remarkable self-control by not voicing a cynical reply.

  Rolfe turned to the horizon and motioned toward the faint trace of an island. “What is the name of that small island?”

  “That is not an island. It is Lizard Peninsula, the most southerly point of England.”

  “I had thought Land’s End held that distinction.”

  “No, Land’s End is the farthest point west.” She guessed he was trying on his best manners in an effort to make her less uncomfortable around him.

  “I should very much like to see it,” he said.

  “It is a good thirty-mile trip, my lord.”

  “Well, perhaps we could organize an early-morning expedition with those from the manse who are interested.”

  “Hmm,” replied Jane. She had little desire to plan an outing of this nature when her hopes to fly to Gretna Green had just been postponed.

  “That is an answer that displays admirable restraint, Mrs. Lovering. You are in danger of revealing your Cornish nature,” Lord Graystock said in a mocking tone.

  “Yes, I suppose I was. Is that also what I revealed by allowing you to bully me into relinquishing a green horse to Mr. Thompson?”

  “Ah, we get to the heart of your pique today.”

  Jane made an annoyed noise. “I am not piqued!”

  “The lady doth protest too much.”

  “Why do you insist on staying on?” Jane changed the subject, for her anger had taken hold.

  “For the pleasure of your company, my dear.”

  Jane snorted. “I think not.”

  “Well, then, to ensure that you choose the best path, Mrs. Lovering.”

  “I have been out of leading strings for this age, my lord. You insult me by insisting that I am not capable of finding happiness on my own.”

  “You will be doing a poor job of it indeed if you elope with Mr. Thompson.”

  Jane paused and tried to organize her mind before speaking. It seemed that there were no words to reply that would be appropriate, so she said nothing.

  “Do you deny it? It is no use, you know. You have left a trail of evidence more obvious than a snake shedding its skin.”

  “Ah, now you compare me to a snake!”

  “No. I compared your packed trunks to a snake’s skin. And I still haven’t heard your denial.”

  “And now you are entering my chambers and spying on me. How dare you!” Jane could tell that she had finally punctured his armor by the fierce anger she could see in his dark gray eyes.

  “I won’t deny it. Will you deny you are planning to hike off?”

  She tried to calm herself by taking a deep breath. She knew enough of him to know that if she continued to goad him, he would interfere further. “I won’t deny it. I have nothing to hide from you. I told you I would marry him,” she said. “I would ask, if you have any regard whatsoever for my feelings, that you would not expose my plans to anyone.” She brushed the hair from her face and gulped as she grasped his hand in her own. He appeared surprised by her bold action. She forced herself to look deep into his turbulent eyes. “I am begging you. Please do not betray me. This will make me happy. It is what I have wanted for almost ten years. I love him. Please don’t allow anyone to take this one dream away from me. Aren’t I allowed one fulfilled dream in my lifetime?” It pained her to beg this gentleman.

  Lord Graystock appeared discomforted. “I would not deny you your dream, Mrs. Lovering. I had only hoped it would be a dream that had a chance of ending happily,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “But it will.”

  “And this is a dream held by Mr. Thompson as well?” he asked, nodding toward Harry, who sat far in the distance.

  Jane shaded her eyes and looked at the groups on the blankets, spotting Harry surrounded by his sisters and the ever present Miss Dodderidge. He looked so young, and full of laughter, as the latter popped a grape into his mouth. Lord Graystock’s eyes narrowed as she turned back to him.

  “Of course it is,” she answered, embarrassed.

  “Really? I have not noticed a preference, to be very blunt.”

  Jane mounted her defense in much annoyance. “Harry is careful to conceal his feelings because of our delicate situation.”

  “I did not know young gentlemen were capable of concealing their sensibilities. Most write bad poetry in their drunken passion and litter a lady’s person with their comical musings.”

  “Yes, well. Harry is Cornish as well.”

  “Ah, the famous restraint.”

  “So, my lord, do I have your word—that you will not reveal our plans?” Jane finished with the hope that she could end this nightmarish conversation.

  “Yes,” he said in his deep voice.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Jane walked away from Graystock toward the general party. A recent habit forced her to feel for the earl’s ring in her pocket. All at once she paused, then continued walking. She was frustrated that she had again forgotten to return his ring to him. But nothing could make her go through the further embarrassment of returning to his side. She would just have to remember during the next opportunity. It annoyed her that she didn’t feel more exhilarated from having convinced him to let her live the life of her own choosing. Instead, she felt deflated as she turned her eyes away from the sea and toward the blankets where her future and her past lay.

  Rolfe scanned the coastline, his eyes coming to rest on Lizard Peninsula once again. He knew he should just leave this miserable part of England. He did not want to be here. Jane did not want him here. In fact, the only person who seemed to be happy with his presence was Miss Fairchild, for some unknown reason. For the last few days she had gone out of her way to ensure his comfort by conversing with him and arranging events that would tempt him. But he knew what had to be done. He would leave as soon as possible for London. He had done his duty. And now he would keep his promise to Jane. He would not meet with her father until after she and Mr. Thompson had eloped. For the rest of the summer he would reside in London. Society would be thin at the end of summer, and that was how he liked it.

  He was tired of all the idle chatter and frivolous activities. He would do a thorough review of all the estates’ holdings by calling all seven of his stewards into town. Then he would tour several properties if necessary on his way back to Hesperides prior to the fall season. The plan was sound, and he itched to leave. He felt a dark mood penetrate his being, not unlike the ones suffered before and after a hard battle. He longed to ret
rieve his horse and ride back to the house, but decorum dictated otherwise. He cursed the fact, as he moved toward the others, that even being an earl did not excuse one from performing distasteful acts of socializing.

  Sir Thomas spied the brooding expression on the earl’s face and proposed a walk down to the beach to give Graystock a small chance at solitude. He felt his own opportunity for happiness was improving, while his great friend’s was diminishing. Sir Thomas looked at the even profile of Miss Fairchild and noticed that despite the faint lines on her face, and the ridiculous white lace cap, she was still lovely. One could almost forget the plainness of her brown wool dress when noticing the feminine, proper arch of her back as she sat perched on a rock. He had renewed his hopes for them since arriving at Land’s End. After four days filled with trivial talk, he was at least perceptive enough to know that perhaps Miss Fairchild would not repel his advances.

  Thomas offered his hand to Clarissa, and she rose from the ground gracefully. With the exception of Jane, Miss Dodderidge, and Mr. Harry Thompson, the group managed to wend their way down the cliff with only a stumble or two.

  Once on the narrow strip of beach, the group separated not unlike a strand of pearls breaking. Graystock refused to be anywhere near the party. Fanny and her two sisters, in their maidenly white muslin dresses, created a lovely picture of innocence as they held hands and laughed while running ahead. The girls kicked off their boots and walked in the foamy water’s edge. William Thompson endeavored to chastise them on their unladylike behavior while Clarissa and Thomas followed the young girls at a distance that promised a measure of privacy.

  “Your friend does not seem to be enjoying his stay here in Land’s End,” remarked Clarissa.

  “A certain lady is to blame,” Thomas responded. After a brief dozen steps, Thomas glanced at Clarissa’s profile and began again. “Why must you wear these caps? Have you given up all signs of youth? They do not become you.” He reached over to finger the lace on her modest white cap. In a swift movement, he snatched it from her head, removing half the pins from her hair in the process.