Gifts of the Heart

by Kruger, Mary

  Jessy, her maid, clucked at her as she helped her undress and exclaimed over her ankles, which had swollen in the heat. Eliza ignored her, but the truth was she felt heavy and uncomfortable, with all of summer and five months of pregnancy before her. It would be bearable, though, she thought as she slipped between the cool linen sheets, if only things were different between her and Robert.

  Once, they had been. Drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, Eliza relaxed the guard she usually kept on her mind and let herself drift back. Theirs had been a splendid wedding, the union of two aristocratic families. No one had consulted the bride and groom as to their wishes, but, in the event, that proved unnecessary. Eliza fell in love with her tall, blond fiancé at first sight, and he, though quieter, more self-contained, seemed to like her. Those first days together—well, there were memories that could still put her to the blush. They were besotted, and though Robert rarely spoke of his feelings, he demonstrated them vigorously enough. He could have left her alone at Stowcroft when she carried their first child, as even then he was active in politics, but instead he was beside her when Delia was born. Eliza’s happiness was complete.

  When had things begun to change? They were supremely happy that year, as summer mellowed into fall and winter followed. She had no intimation that they might not always be that way, until Robert mentioned going to London for the season. Of course he’d wish to go, to take his seat in Parliament. To her own surprise, however, Eliza didn’t want to go. She enjoyed the balls and entertainments of the season, yet she also had the sense that she’d left them behind for more important things. There was another consideration. The journey from Devon would be too long for a child less than a year old, meaning that Delia would have to stay behind. Eliza couldn’t bear it. She didn’t want to leave her plump, blond-haired daughter. The child needed her, her mother, not a wet-nurse or a nanny. Robert, she felt certain, would understand.

  Robert didn’t. Uncharacteristically he blew up, and their quarrel was bitter. Their reconciliation was as volatile as the quarrel had been, but both were aware that something had changed in their marriage. Something had been lost.

  After that the quarrels were less frequent, and soon ceased altogether. Robert seemed to be pleased with his growing family, to her delight not favoring his son over his daughters, and yet he continued to stay away for longer and longer intervals. Occasionally he asked her to come to London with him; occasionally she asked him to stay home. Neither took offense when the other refused. Their marriage drifted into a comfortable routine, and if each missed the joy of those first days, they didn’t show it. Only rarely did the passion flare between them. The last time it happened had been Twelfth Night.

  There was a soft snicking sound, as of a doorknob turning, and Eliza pushed herself up on her elbows. It had been a very long time since Robert had slept in the adjoining room, but she knew every creaking floorboard, every squeaky hinge, very well, indeed. “Robert?” she whispered.

  He came closer, the hand that had been shielding a candle moving, so that she could see him. He was attired only in his dressing gown, making her heart beat faster. “I though perhaps you were asleep.”

  “No, not quite.” She lay back against the pillows as he sat on the edge of her bed, placing the candle on the bedstand. He had come to her, in spite of the strain between them. Her spirits rose. Perhaps she was worrying about nothing. Perhaps this baby would bring them closer together.

  “Are you tired?” he asked. “Shall I go?”

  “No, of course not,” she said, and opened her arms to him.

  Chapter Three

  Laura laid down the French primer from which she had been reading in a halting voice. “How long will Papa be here?”

  “I don’t know, Laura,” Eliza said, looking up from her knitting. “We haven’t discussed it. He did just arrive yesterday.”

  “It would be ever so nice if he stayed.” Laura swung her legs back and forth, her eyes distant. “He doesn’t spend much time with us.”

  “He’s always believed that men aren’t supposed to have much to do with their children. It’s how he was raised.”

  “Was Grandfather like him? Was he always away, too?”

  “Yes, I believe so.” Eliza frowned over a dropped stitch. “So was his mother, I’m afraid.”

  “He must have been awfully lonely.”

  “I don’t think he thinks so.” Of course he had been, though it was something she’d never thought of him. Robert always seemed self-possessed and assured. Once, though, he had been a child, left behind while his parents went jaunting off to London without him. As had Eliza. It was why she was determined to be with the children, so that they wouldn’t be brought up by strangers, so that they wouldn’t feel so lost and rootless as she sometimes did, even now.

  “I don’t know why we’re talking about it,” Delia said. “He’ll go back to London as soon as he can.”

  Eliza came out of her reverie. Delia sounded much too cynical for her age. “Perhaps not. Parliament will be ending its session soon. Clive will be home from school, too.”

  “Oh, Clive. Of course he’ll stay home to see Clive.”

  Eliza looked up again in surprise. Was Delia jealous of her brother? “He’s glad to see you, too, Delia.”

  “But we’re not boys.”

  “And thank heavens for that! Laura, please continue reading.” The girls glanced quickly at each other and, after a moment, Laura returned to the primer. Eliza paid her little mind, though, ignoring any and all errors. How long would Robert be home this time? They hadn’t talked about it last night, but then, talking had been the furthest thing from their minds. To her chagrin, that thought sent color surging into her face, making her lower her head to hide it. She was a married woman, not a green girl, to be embarrassed by such things. She had felt like a girl last night, though...

  “Am I interrupting?” a voice said at the door, and Eliza jerked her head up, her eyes meeting Robert’s. For a moment he returned her gaze, and she was caught, unable to look away, knowing he was remembering, too. A knowing little smile touched his lips, and she dropped her head again.

  “Papa, I can speak French,” Laura announced. “Do you want to hear?”

  “Certainly. Do you always hear the girls’ lessons?” he asked Eliza, coming to sit next to her.

  “No. Miss Stevenson has the headache, poor thing, and so I told her to stay abed.” She put her knitting down, pushing it aside, but not before she saw Robert’s eyes fasten on it and sharpen. He had guessed what it was, then, the fleecy white confection she would wrap around her new baby. And what he thought of that, she still didn’t know. “Was there something you wanted, Robert?”

  “I thought I’d see what you were doing,” he said, almost diffidently, annoyed with himself. This was his house. He had slept in a bedroom down the hall and taken lessons in this very same room, yet he felt like an interloper. The girls were polite, and Eliza seemed to be on guard against him. Was it like this every time he came home? He quickly reviewed his memories of past homecomings and decided that this one was different. What was causing the constraint, however, was something he couldn’t even guess.

  The girls were looking at him so uncertainly that he couldn’t bear it. Dashed if he were going to be pushed out of his own house. “I thought you’d like to hear about London,” he said, and for the next few moments held both girls transfixed with tales of what had happened in the city. Laura was enthralled by his story of the Laplanders who had come to England in the winter, bringing with them meat that had been frozen and was in a remarkable state of preservation. Whenever they went out in their outlandish coats of reindeer hide, he said, they attracted a tide of followers. Delia, disdaining such stories, was far more interested in hearing about Princess Charlotte’s wedding to Prince Leopold of Coburg, which Robert had attended. The bride wore silver and white, he said, obligingly dredging up details from his memory, and old Queen Charlotte had been splendid in gold tissue. And everyone
was wearing the new Kendal bonnet or Coburg hat...

  “Papa.” Laura had been shifting impatiently during this recital of current fashions. “Did you bring us any presents?”

  “Laura!” Eliza exclaimed, looking up from her knitting.

  “Of course I did.” He smiled, rising. “Have I ever forgotten?”

  Laura dropped the primer, her face bright, and scrambled down from the table. “See, Delia? I told you he didn’t forget. What did you bring me?”

  “Laura,” Eliza chided again, more forcefully this time, and the little girl subsided. “That was nice of you, Robert.”

  “You know I always bring something, Eliza. Since I don’t get home as often as I’d like.”

  “Mm-hm.” Eliza nodded, and he felt that little spurt of annoyance again. Damned if he were going to defend himself.

  “I have something for you, too, Liza.”

  “Give the girls theirs first,” she suggested, smiling, and after a moment he smiled back. Even Delia looked excited by the prospect of a gift.

  “Very well.” He rose. From the hallway he produced several lumpy, tissue-wrapped packages. “For you, Delia. And you, Laura.”

  “Oh! A doll!” Laura exclaimed, tearing open the paper. “Oh, look, Mama, her gown is like one of yours.”

  “Very pretty, Laura. Did you choose it yourself, Robert?”

  “Of course I did. And wrapped them, too.”

  “Ah,” Eliza said, sounding amused, but this time he didn’t mind.

  “Oh,” Delia said, her voice awed. She was more careful, more deliberate in unwrapping her package, but now she held it up, a fan of ivory and lace and gilt. “Oh, Daddy, it’s so pretty!”

  Daddy. She hadn’t called him that in years. “I thought you’d like it, poppet.”

  “Oh, I do!” She held it before her face, peeping at him over it so coquettishly that he was startled. Delia was no longer the little girl he remembered. Once again he had the dismaying sense that his family were strangers.

  “Your first grown-up fan, Delia,” Eliza said, smiling. “That was thoughtful of you, Robert.”

  “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve turned into a young lady, Delia.”

  “Where’s Mama’s present?” Laura demanded.

  Robert smiled. “Here.” From an inner pocket of his coat he withdrew a long, narrow box of midnight-blue velvet. “For you, Liza.”

  Eliza’s heart sank. Slowly, she took the box. Slowly, knowing her family was watching in anticipation, she opened it, dreading what she would find. Her gasp of surprise and pleasure, though, was genuine. “Oh, Robert,” she said, her voice not quite steady. Inside the box was a magnificent necklace of sapphires and diamonds set in gold. Robert’s taste in jewelry was exquisite, but this time he had outdone even himself. It was beautiful, and she hated it. “Oh, ‘tis lovely.”

  “Do you like it?” he asked as the girls gathered ‘round, their eyes as bright as any jewel.

  “It’s lovely,” she repeated, and because she knew it was expected of her, clasped it around her neck.

  “Oh, Mama,” Delia said, sounding awed. “You’ll need a new gown to wear with it.”

  “A London gown,” Robert said, and their eyes met. Anger flared within Eliza, anger she tamped down rather than display before the girls. How vexing of him! She liked jewels as much as anyone, yet he knew quite well that she had nowhere to wear them. Unless she went to London. Apparently he was going to reopen the old argument, about her staying in Devon with the children. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d used a gift for such a purpose.

  “I don’t think I’ll buy any new gowns quite yet,” she said, rising and crossing the room to kiss Robert on the cheek. “Thank you, Robert, it is beautiful. I think I’d best put it away, though. It’s not really suitable for a picnic.”

  “A picnic?” he said, following her into the hall.

  “Yes. I promised the girls that since Miss Stevenson is ill we could go down to the beach and picnic there.”

  He frowned. “Should you be doing that just now, Eliza?”

  “Yes, I feel perfectly fine. It isn’t a difficult walk.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “What?” Eliza looked up, startled, as they reached her room. “You needn’t, Robert. I know you dislike eating outside.”

  He smiled. “I’ll survive this once. I don’t think you should go down the cliff path alone.”

  “I can manage.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. Besides, I want to. You’re always asking me to spend more time with the girls.”

  “Of course,” she said, after a moment, and turned away, reaching up to unclasp the necklace.

  “You don’t like it, do you,” he said abruptly from the doorway, his back turned.

  Eliza paused, her hands dropping. “I like the necklace, Robert. I just don’t like what it represents.”

  “Aren’t I allowed to give you a gift?”

  “Of course you are, but what this means, and now—”

  “I had no idea you were increasing, as you know,” he snapped. “I’ll leave you to get ready now.”

  “Robert—”

  “We’ll leave in half an hour,” he said, and strode away.

  “Robert,” she repeated, but he was gone. Ooh, he always did this to her! Whenever the conversation threatened to get too serious, too painful, he always walked out, leaving her simmering with anger and unspoken words. Now, adding insult to injury, he had just taken command of their expedition to the beach. What else, she wondered, dragging a brush through her fine, wispy hair and bundling it into a knot at her neck, would he take charge of while he was here? It was almost enough to make her wish he’d return to London.

  Almost. Eliza set down the brush and stared at her reflection, hesitantly touching the necklace that still lay at her throat. Another gift. It was the way Robert showed his affection, by giving extravagant presents, rather than gifts of the heart. When first they had been married, that hadn’t mattered, but now it did. Because he would leave again. Nothing she could do would stop it, and it hurt. No present, no matter how expensive, could salve that pain.

  Eliza looked at herself in the mirror and then raised her chin. She would survive it; she always had, no matter how bad things got. This time she had another reason to hold on, her child. In the meantime she would do all she could to protect herself and her children from the pain that would come with Robert’s departure. If that meant holding a part of herself aloof from him, then that was what she would do. No matter how much it hurt.

  With that, she pulled off the necklace and swept out of the room.

  Chapter Four

  Some time later they all assembled on the lawn, Robert carrying the picnic hamper and the girls running ahead. At the top of the cliff Robert stopped, his hand holding Eliza's elbow. "Are you sure this is safe?" he asked.

  "Perfectly. 'Tis an easy climb and I rest when I'm tired. And, oh, look at the view, Robert."

  "Yes." The view of the cove, formed by two protecting arms of the cliffs, with its dancing whitecaps, was indeed spectacular, but at the moment all he wanted to look at was his wife. Her skin had a luminous quality that made her glow, her figure a lushness that was alluring. Lord, he wanted her, with an urgency that startled him. He thought he'd outgrown such impulses, but apparently it was possible to desire one's wife, even when she was heavy with child.

  In London, he stifled the normal urges a healthy male, separated for long periods from his wife, would feel. He had never kept a mistress and had never felt the lack. One night with Eliza, though, and he was as randy as a young boy. No matter his hurt over her rejection of his gift, so carefully chosen. His desire for her was as strong as it had been when they'd first married. Dangerous, this fierce, fiery passion. Such feelings had led to their current predicament. Another child. Good God.

  "Papa," Laura said later, when they had nearly demolished the meal of cold roast beef with bread and cheese, and early strawberries in thick
clotted cream, "how long are you staying?"

  Robert paused as he sipped at his lemonade, his eyes meeting Eliza's. "I'm not sure, Laura."

  "You'll be returning to London, though, won't you?" Eliza said.

  "I don't know. Parliament will be ending session soon, and we're not accomplishing much this year in any event." He leaned back on his hands, looking up to the sky. "All we seem to be doing is arguing among ourselves. The radicals are talking revolution, which of course the government is determined to stop, and the rest of us are caught in the middle. In the meantime soldiers keep returning from the Continent and can't find work, rents are dropping, and no one's buying anything. No one's doing anything except pointing the blame at everyone else, and everything's at a standstill. I don't remember ever feeling so frustrated, Liza." He lowered his head and looked at her, feeling as if a vast burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Talking with her had always had this effect. "I was glad to come home," he said, knowing in that moment that he spoke only the truth.

  Eliza looked away. "Still, I've never known you to miss a minute of it."

  He shrugged, but before he could answer, Delia rose. "Mama, may Laura and I look for shells?"

  "Of course," Eliza said, and the girls set off, leaving silence behind, leaving Robert feeling vaguely guilty. There was no reason why he should. The way he and Eliza lived was the way most people in the ton lived. He liked his life in London. He felt he was doing important work, and he liked that feeling. No question, though, that London's grayness, its sooty air and misty weather often pressed in on him. Until this moment, sitting on a sandy blanket on a glorious spring day, he hadn't realized just how oppressed he'd felt. And yet, when the time came, he'd be eager to leave.