by Hale Deborah
Bennett scowled. ‘Astley never cared who had to pay for whatever was done to vex him, as long as someone suffered. He would exploit any weakness to make certain he got what he wanted.’
This time the weakness Astley exploited had been hers. Caroline’s gorge rose and her skin crawled with shame. Because of what she’d done, not only had Bennett suffered, her son would, too. So would the Abolition Movement for which her father and husband had worked so hard.
‘I wish you’d told me why you wanted me to stay away from…that creature, rather than just forbidding me to speak to him again.’ Though she doubted Bennett would believe her, Caroline still felt compelled to speak. ‘If I’d had any idea what he did to you, I never would have…encouraged him.’
Had it been Astley’s plan all along, to manoeuvre her into a compromising situation, then expose her indiscretion in a way that would do the most damage to Bennett’s family and his cause? That did not diminish her responsibility, for she had made it all far too easy for him. The scoundrel had used her to strike Bennett a humiliating blow, just as he’d used his friends at school all those years ago. Now Bennett must despise her, as he’d despised those boys.
She did not expect her husband to answer. But after several minutes of tense silence, he did. ‘Perhaps I should have told you the whole story. But I feared it might have quite the opposite effect.’
Though he spoke in a tone of quiet resignation, his words stung. How could he believe she would behave with such malicious defiance? She had no right to be indignant, Caroline reminded herself. After all, she had defied her husband’s wishes and done him great harm. Why should he believe that knowing about his past would have made any difference in her behaviour?
‘I didn’t expect him to kiss me that night.’ Why was she bothering to repeat things Bennett would never believe? ‘And I didn’t want him to.’
Her husband shot her a look that seemed to ask what was the use in lying now—to herself especially.
Perhaps she shouldn’t be talking about any of this, with her guard down and her emotions so dangerously close to the surface. She now understood it would be impossible to persuade Bennett of her innocence. He was determined to be free of her and nothing short of her infidelity would provide the escape he sought. So he would cling to the false certainty that she’d betrayed him with the same stubborn tenacity that had fuelled his fight for the abolition of slavery.
But after so many years of corrosive silence, she could no longer hold her tongue. ‘I admit I went too far flirting with Astley. But only because it had been such a long time since you wanted anything from me in that way. I suppose I needed reassurance that I was not entirely undesirable.’
A harsh, dry chuckle burst from Bennett’s lips. ‘You must be joking! Haven’t you noticed the way men look at you, the way they behave around you?’
What did other men matter? Their attention might raise her confidence a little, for a while. But afterwards she would go home to a husband who could scarcely bear to be in the same room with her, let alone the bedchamber. ‘That is nothing but a silly game.’
‘To you perhaps.’ Bennett rubbed his eyes. ‘But some games can have serious consequences.’
Caroline glanced down at her son, whose sleep was growing more restless again.
‘I know that now.’ She had learned it in the hardest way possible. ‘I hope you got back at Astley for that beating he gave you.’
‘Indeed I did.’ Bennett sounded as if he savoured the memory. ‘I soon learned to stand up for myself and for other boys who were being bullied. It was good training for my Abolition work.’
She had always thought of Bennett as so powerful and in control. This glimpse into his past made Caroline see him in a whole new light. ‘Is that why you became an Abolitionist?’
‘In part.’ Bennett’s lips settled into a pensive frown. ‘I also read a book by a former slave. It described how families were torn apart—children taken from their mothers, never to see them again.’
His sympathy with those slave children must have risen from his own experience, Caroline realised. All these years, she’d thought his commitment to Abolition sprang from abstract principles about rights and humanity. Now she understood it was a passionately personal crusade.
She admired the way Bennett had channelled the pain of his past to do something good for others. However, it put her life of trivial pleasure into harsh perspective.
Caroline could not deny there were things about that life she would miss. Not the gowns and jewels and opulent amusements, but the admiration of society. She had been hailed a toast and a diamond of the first water. Ladies had copied her little innovations in fashion. Gentlemen had vied to dance and flirt with her. They were not very substantial accomplishments, perhaps, but they were all she had to compensate for the failures in far more important areas of her life. She might not be an adulteress, as Bennett was so determined to believe, but she still fell far short of the kind of wife a man like him needed.
She wished she could tell Bennett how sincerely she regretted the damage her indiscretion had done to his pride and his cause. But he would never believe her, any more than he would believe her protestations of fidelity.
The deeper Caroline reflected on all that, the deeper she sank into her own thoughts.
Some time later, she was distantly aware of being borne securely in Bennett’s strong arms. Her head lolled against his chest as she inhaled breath after slow, deep breath of his scent. All her hurt, anger and guilt had been lulled to sleep and did not stir.
She felt herself being laid gently upon a bed. Warm ripples of sensation fluttered through her in response to Bennett’s touch. She yearned to raise her arms and pull him closer, but the bonds of sleep were too heavy to cast off.
Besides, a quiver of fear warned her that he might despise her overture, even if he was too tired to resist it.
Chapter Six
Did Caroline truly not recognise what a desirable woman she was? Bennett pondered that preposterous notion as he lowered his sleeping wife on to the bed in her darkened room.
It was like being unaware the sun was as golden as her hair or parts of the sea as blue-green as her eyes. Ever since he’d returned to Tresco, he’d been taunted and tempted by her allure. He found her far more appealing in a simple dress, her hair tumbled and her face aglow with motherly affection. The fashionable London socialite, perfectly gowned, coiffed and bejewelled, had left him cold.
He found it difficult to believe that elegant façade had concealed deep doubts and insecurities. But why should that confound him so? He knew all about maintaining a strong, confident image. Sometimes that involved keeping secrets.
These past two nights he’d told Caroline far more about his past than he’d ever intended to—far more than he might have under any other circumstances. It had come out piece by painful piece, like drawing rotten teeth. Yet, once they were out, he had felt a strange sort of relief from the constant dull ache he’d trained himself to ignore all these years. Who’d have guessed Caroline would prove such a sympathetic listener? Not he, that was certain.
Having settled his wife on the bed, Bennett hovered over her, savouring her beguiling scent and the warmth that radiated from her body. He finally managed to wrench himself away only because he feared losing control if he lingered. But when he rose to go, a wave of dizziness knocked him back to perch on the edge of the bed.
The only light in the room came from the distant glow of candles in Wyn’s bedchamber and the faint, silvery glitter of moonbeams filtering in the window. They cast everything in deep, gracious shadows, masking all the imperfections that might have been exposed by the unforgiving glare of daylight.
Carolyn looked so soft and vulnerable, lying on her bed in that dim light. Even as his body roused from the recent sensation of her in his arms, Bennett felt himself responding to her in a different way than he ever had before. In the shadowy depths of night, hovering dangerously near the brink of sleep, he gave that b
ewildering new feeling a wary welcome.
She had made mistakes in their marriage, but now he was forced to acknowledge that he had, too. Was it possible he had driven his wife to seek companionship elsewhere when she could not get it from him? Had she believed he was signalling his indifference to her taking a lover? Such arrangements were common enough in their circles, especially after the wife had done her dynastic duty by providing her husband with a healthy male heir.
Rising slowly to his feet, Bennett was relieved when his head did not spin this time. Reluctant as he was to leave Caroline, he knew he must get back to their son.
As he unfolded a blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over her with gentle care, he reflected on the peculiar irony of their situation. After seven years of wedlock, he and Caroline were finally beginning to understand one another just as their marriage was falling apart.
Tired though she must have been, Caroline did not sleep long. The next time Wyn woke, she heard his voice and responded at once.
‘Please, dearest, drink a little more of the tea.’ Supporting their son’s shoulders, she held the cup to his lips. ‘I know you don’t like the taste, but it always makes you feel better after you take it.’
The child turned his head away, whining, ‘I don’t want any.’
‘Wyndham Wilberforce Maitland.’ Staring down at his son from the foot of the bed, Bennett spoke his son’s impressive full name in a tone that brooked no defiance. ‘You must do as your mother says.’
The child’s bottom lip quivered, making his father feel like the vilest ogre. But he turned his head back towards Caroline and took a long sip from the cup.
‘That’s my good, brave boy,’ she crooned, pressing a kiss to his moist brow.
When she glanced towards Bennett, he expected her to shoot him an indignant glare for speaking so severely to their ailing child. Instead her eyes glowed with such warm gratitude she hardly needed to mouth the words Thank you.
Bennett sensed something else in her gaze as well—a plea of sorts. To his surprise, he thought he understood.
‘Well done, son.’ He smiled down at the child, hoping Wyn might understand why he’d spoken sharply before. ‘All we want is for you to get better soon.’
‘Yes, Papa.’ The boy took another drink of the yarrow tea, grimacing after he swallowed it.
They managed to coax the rest of the brew into him, as well as some broth. Then Bennett helped the child up to use the chamber pot, after which Caroline changed him into a clean nightshirt.
‘Shall I tell you another story?’ she asked when he was tucked back into bed.
‘I’d like a story from Papa,’ Wyn replied, ‘about when he used to come here with his mama.’
The look on Bennett’s face must have betrayed his reluctance, for Caroline tried to intervene. ‘Your papa is very tired, dearest. He should try to get some sleep. Perhaps he can tell you a story later.’
‘It’s all right.’ Bennett moved to take his wife’s place beside their son. Though grateful to her for trying to spare him, he knew he must seize this opportunity to forge a closer relationship with Wyn. ‘I believe I can recall enough about those days to make a story. But you must promise to give me a nudge if I start to snore.’
‘I will.’ Wyn sounded a bit more like his old cheerful self. The yarrow tea must be working. Bennett only hoped this time the cursed fever would not return.
Taking advantage of his slumbering defences, Bennett began to tell Wyn everything he could recall about his childhood holidays on Tresco. To his relief, the effort brought back only warm memories that he had buried away. He found it impossible to reconcile the doting mother of those happy times with the wanton adulteress who had abandoned him. At the moment, his wits were too addled to try.
He was in the middle of a story about Tekla Theis, the island harvest festival, when he felt Caroline’s hand upon his arm and her breath caress his ear as she whispered, ‘Wyn’s gone to sleep again and so should you.’
‘I’ll sit with him.’ Bennett staggered as he tried to shift from the bed to his chair.
‘Please be sensible.’ Caroline grabbed hold of his arm to keep him from falling. ‘That usually isn’t difficult for you. If you fall asleep sitting up, I won’t be able to carry you off to bed, as you did with me. So come now, while you can still move under your own power. If you do, I promise I will sleep the next time Wyn does. We won’t be any good to him if we exhaust ourselves.’
‘That does make sense.’ His words slurred as if he’d had too much to drink. ‘Will you steer me in the proper direction so I don’t fall down the stairs?’
A few days ago, he wouldn’t have put it past her to give him a push down those stairs. Now their shared concern for their son overshadowed their differences.
‘Of course.’ Caroline gave a low, melodious chuckle, almost as if she sensed his thoughts. ‘Let’s go.’
They managed to reach his room without mishap. Through the gable window, the eastern horizon was streaked with the opal gleam of dawn. Bathed in that blushing light, Caroline had never looked lovelier. With a pang, Bennett wondered what quiet delights he might have missed by not lingering more often in his wife’s bed until morning.
‘I know we both need sleep,’ he acknowledged in a drowsy murmur as he lay down. Catching hold of Caroline’s hand, he gave her fingers a brief squeeze. ‘But I will miss the chance to talk. Perhaps if we’d talked like that sooner…’
Perhaps if they’d talked like that sooner…what?
Bennett was too exhausted to finish his thought. He paused as if searching for the right words to continue. But before he could find them, his hand fell slack from around hers and his breath settled into the slow, easy rhythm of sleep.
With great difficulty, Caroline stifled the urge to linger there watching him, as well as even more daring inclinations. She reminded herself this unlikely intimacy between them was only a sleep-starved dream. A few reluctant confidences exchanged in the middle of the night would not save their marriage.
Once Wyn recovered and Bennett caught up on his sleep, everything would go back to the way it had been before. The only thing to change would be her understanding of why their marriage had failed—why it might have been doomed from the beginning.
She wanted to allow Bennett a good long sleep, but that proved impossible. Barely two hours passed before Wyn woke again. His forehead felt hotter than ever this time. What frightened Caroline even more, her son did not seem to recognise her or know where he was. He kept calling her Greggy, begging her to stop his parents from shouting at each other. Could this be the brain fever Mrs Hicks had warned them about?
‘Parker, please call his lordship!’ Caroline ordered the maid, who had just arrived with more water. ‘Then send Albert to fetch Mrs Hicks. And bring me another cup of her tea for Master Wyn.’
‘At once, my lady.’ Perhaps alarmed by the edge of panic in Caroline’s voice, the maid hurried away.
A moment later, Bennett rushed into the room. ‘Is Wyn worse? I knew I should have stayed with him.’
‘There was nothing you could have done.’ Caroline’s hand trembled as she tried to hold the damp cloth to her son’s fevered brow, but he resisted her clumsy ministrations, tossing his head from side to side on the pillow. ‘He was sleeping quietly until a little while ago. But when he woke…he didn’t seem to know me.’
Would her son have called her by another woman’s name, her conscience whispered, if she had not abdicated so many of her motherly responsibilities to a hired servant?
Before Bennett could reply, the child grew more agitated and began to whimper. ‘Stop, Greggy! I already had my bath. Is Mama coming to say goodnight before she goes out?’
Caroline glanced back at her husband, seeking reassurance that this was not as troubling a development as it seemed to her. But when their eyes met, she glimpsed fear in his that mirrored her own.
‘Have you sent for Mrs Hicks?’ Bennett strode to their son’s bedside and kn
elt next to Caroline, who nodded in response to his question.
‘Your mama is here, Wyn, and so am I.’ He grasped the child’s hand and spoke in the most soothing tone Caroline had ever heard him use. ‘You must try to lie still.’
‘Papa?’ Wyn shrank from him. ‘Please don’t be angry with me and don’t shout at Mama.’
The more Bennett tried to calm the child and reason with him, the more upset he grew and the more frightened Caroline became.
By the time Mrs Hicks arrived, Caroline was at her wits’ end.
The healer’s worried look drove her over the edge. ‘This is my fault! I should…never have brought him here. What if he…?’
She could not bear to put her deepest dread into words.
Bennett and the healer exchanged a look. The next thing Caroline knew, her husband rose from his knees and pulled her away from their son’s sickbed with a firm but tender hold.
‘Hush, Caro. All will be well.’ He spoke as he had to Wyn, all the while drawing her towards the door. ‘Come, we must let Mrs Hicks do what she can for him.’
Though she allowed Bennett to lead her away, Caroline could not contain her tears. It was as if a dam had burst inside her, releasing all her pent-up fear and guilt and longing for things she could never have because she did not deserve them. Her little son was going to die because of her selfish actions and she would have to live with that burden. She would willingly surrender him to Bennett in a divorce a hundred times rather than this!
Though her feet moved, she had no idea where she was going until Bennett eased her on to the edge of her bed and sank down beside her. Adjusting his embrace, he drew her towards him until her forehead rested against his broad shoulder. He raised his other hand to pat her back with awkward tenderness.