by Jill Harris
"It's impossible to understand everything," Constance told her, smiling. "And my condolences."
Adeline looked wildly at Branwell, but he appeared to be breathing. She put her hand on her heart. Could she take any more bad news?
"For what?"
Blythe handed her a sealed letter. "Your mother's uncle has died at the great age of ninety-five. He left you an amount of money. Enough to give you independence."
Maria smiled. "Death is followed by renewal. That is the way."
Chapter 47
Adeline had a stack of light novels and a comfortable chair moved into Branwell's room. She also had Hoxley make her up a small bed in the corridor outside, where she could sleep, yet still hear her patient if his breathing changed or he cried out.
He muttered not a word.
For six long months, Branwell lay mute. Yet he was not unconscious. Instead, he stared unseeing at the ceiling. Adeline sat by him, busying herself with reading and eventually, some complicated embroidery on a large quilt. During those long nights Branwell seemed almost normal, closing his eyes and sleeping seemingly peacefully.
Adeline hoped that he dreamed, and that his dreams were good. His mind was there, she kept reminding herself, he was still inside there somewhere. The Captain simply needed to spend time wandering to places no one else could know or see. Adeline hardly left his side.
She tended to his wound. Washed and dressed his body. Shaved him, all with the utmost care. Often, if she was sleepy in the afternoon, she'd curl up next to him on the bed, her head next to his shoulder.
Feeding him was a problem, but she found a way. He could swallow, and she would sit him up to feed him broth from a spoon, very slowly.
It seemed to her that part of him was awake. Awake enough to eat and drink. He just couldn't relate to the world. But he would, she was absolutely certain of it. When he was ready.
Occasionally, she brought out the shock box and administered a powerful shock, increasing her own ability to hasten the healing process. Each day the Captain seemed more alive, and he looked a little better until finally, nothing remained of that terrible night, or the demon, or any bad thing - nothing but a puckered scar on the inside of his thigh.
Adeline kept busy. She wrote many letters to her Aunt Theodora advising her of Adeline's situation. Naturally, Theodora was aware that her niece's fortunes had changed, and sent over an accountant to help Adeline make arrangements.
Adeline promptly bought a house for the couple in Templesea who had taken care of her child. Her cousin Eleonora made regular visits and brought books, gossip and news from the outside world.
Eleonora also helped Adeline to arrange a complete refurbishment of Raven's Nest. Adeline paid for it out of her own funds, presuming that Branwell would reimburse her when he was well. The exterior walls were strengthened and a new roof put over the hall, as well as a brand new chandelier which was delivered all the way from Paris.
A coat of paint was applied inside most of the rooms and served to freshen up the atmosphere, and she also commissioned a new statue of the satyr for the dining room. Never one to give in to superstition, she didn't equate the hideous creature who had tormented Branwell with the innocent nature spirits of old. The befana had said something to that effect before she departed for her native Italy, and Adeline wrote plenty of letters addressed to Maria in Rome.
One day she hoped to visit Italy. She planned a grand tour of the country, and spent many hours talking about it to the unresponsive Branwell. He was unable to move himself, so every day she massaged his legs and arms. She moved his limbs as much as she could, to keep the muscles active. He was, she realised, a beautiful man. Over those days and weeks, she grew fonder of him than she would have thought possible. She thought often of the way he had tried to save her by sending her away, and also of marriage proposal and the look on his face when she refused him.
At night, she would kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have known you would have accepted me, with all the faults I have."
She never once gave up the idea that he would make a full recovery.
Adeline read many novels aloud to him. She wrote letters at his desk, walked about the large room for her own exercise, and often gazed out of the window to the little town below. She grew to love the sandy cove, the rocky coastline, and the ever-changing tide that washed its beaches. She had even got to know some of the people who walked along the quay to take the air. Her cousin had introduced her to a number of her friends from the town of Templesea and Adeline decided that she would stay to be near those she loved. The child and her Captain.
Adeline commissioned a house for herself to be built on the opposite side of Sea Witch Cove, halfway up the slope of the west cliff, with a clear view of Raven's Nest.
The seasons changed.
From winter to spring, and finally, to the first blush of summer. A sunny afternoon in mid-June found her by the window in the Captain's chamber, watching sea birds gliding above the west cliff over her new house on the other side of the cove. Suddenly a gravely voice behind her spoke.
"What are you doing here? I thought I dismissed you from my service?"
Adeline spun on her heels. Branwell was awake, he glared at her, his eyes wide and disapproving.
She ran to him, threw her arms around his neck. "You're back," she said, dissolving into tears.
Chapter 48
For the next two weeks, Branwell had to learn to walk again. While he'd been lost in his restorative fugue, Adeline had ordered him a new prosthetic leg. It was the best that money could buy, was carefully moulded to his stump, matching the shape and length of its opposite number.
The morning of Midsummer's eve heralded a big day for the townspeople of Templesea. They were already gathering at the Dancing Maidens on Black Dog hills. The smell of the smoke from their fires drifted in through the open windows and the sound of drums and whistles set the merry scene.
Branwell sat on the end of his bed, strapping the leg on. When it was done, he rolled down his trouser leg and stood. Each day, Adeline would arrive at his chamber and take his arm and they would pace the room together. She loved to talk about her new friends in the town as he leaned upon her arm, and he was delighted by her company, and the rosewater scent of her hair.
He checked his pocket watch and frowned. Today she was late. The maid delivered his breakfast an hour ago to his room. Coffee, buttered toast, a bowl of strawberries and some Devon cream. Adeline made sure he had fruit at every meal. Infuriating woman. He was impatient for her to arrive.
They had not kissed or mentioned what had passed between them before Vedmak was defeated. Branwell dared not approach her, mainly because he'd been unable to read Adeline"s feelings and now she was a woman of fortune, he felt he had nothing to offer her.
His emotional indicators, which he had relied upon for so long to tell him how others were feeling, had all gone, left him for good. The coloured circles, triangles and squares no longer emerged from the people he met. Not even Adeline. He supposed it was a small price to pay for peace of mind, but he missed them.
Now he had no way of telling what she was feeling towards him. All he knew was that she had rejected his offer of marriage, and so far, ever since he awoke from that liminal place where he was trapped between waking and sleeping, she had shown no affection towards him. Other than those of a dutiful nurse.
He had not paid her a penny since he dismissed her yet her style of clothes had changed. She had taken to wearing dresses in blue and white stripes. Hats with frivolous feathers atop them. Lacey chemises, buttoned tight over her chest. Such feminine finery of the kind which drove him wild.
There was no point in asking her about it. He didn't want her to tell him she had found a man who could support her but he knew there was money in her life now and it made him too depressed to think she might have found someone while he slept. Soon, he expected to hear of her impending wedding. He would not, of course, attend. She
was lost to him, had never been his and yet he would always yearn for her.
Branwell, who had never been a sailor, felt like a man alone on a sailboat, tacking against the wind. The winds and the tides, like the emotional forces within others, were invisible to him yet he felt them nonetheless. Such a lot to learn for a man in his thirties. He'd considered asking Hoxley to bring him down a whore from London, but had dismissed the idea as soon as it came to him. He didn't have the heart for any of that. Not while it was secretly breaking.
He cursed the slowness of his progress. So far, he had not left his room except to take a few miserable steps down the corridor before collapsing like a fool. Today however, a surge of vigour flowed through his veins. Branwell grabbed his cane and hobbled to the door.
When he got outside, he made his way along the corridor to the top of stairs. At the same time as Hoxley opened the front door. Sunlight streamed in, a beam of it lighting up the hall. Branwell shrank back into the shadows. An elderly woman entered the house. The woman was homely, with a grey bun piled on top of her head. Holding her hand was a small creature. A child.
Adeline shot out of the front living room and rushed towards them. She picked up the child and swung it on to her hip.
The two women embraced. Adeline fussed over the child, a boy with ruddy cheeks and a familiar shape to his face.
The boy had the same dark chestnut hair as Adeline's.
Turning to Hoxley Adeline said brightly. "We'll walk to the beach. Have Roberts bring down the picnic."
"Of course, Miss Winslow."
It took Branwell the best part of an hour to get down the rocky path that led to the beach from the house. He had to stop many times, sitting hard on the ground, his head between his hands. The good thing about it was the feel of the wind on his face.
A hot sun beat down.
The bad thing was the sense that Branwell's legs were so weak he might fall at any moment, since the path descended steeply, and he was so unsteady.
He took off his jacket, left it on a rock.
Branwell battled just as he had years ago when he rode his horse into the valley of death with the Light Brigade. No guns threatened to shoot him down. Only his own sense of balance. Instead of a sword in his hand, the cane. Instead of death on his mind, a blossoming of realisation.
The child was Adeline's son. He had to be. And that might explain a lot. Was that why she had refused him? Was she certain that he'd judge her if he ever found out about the boy? As if he ever would. A child was ever a blessing and that was the end of it to Branwell's mind. Never mind how a babe was got, they should all be welcome in the world.
At the bottom of the path he turned sharp left, his cane sinking into the yellow sand. Shading his eyes with his hand, he searched them out. The old woman had gone and Adeline was at the tide's edge with the little boy. They were picking up shells and pebbles, dropping them into a metal bucket.
Adeline looked up as he approached. Her face fell. She pushed the boy behind her skirts. "Did you walk here alone? Down that steep path?"
"It was nothing," he growled.
Adeline thrust her chest up but her eyes fell. The boy peered out from behind her skirts, his large eyes a mirror of his mother's. "It seems you don't need my services any longer. I vowed to stay until you were restored to full health. Now, it seems, that time has come."
"I'm not a fool, Adeline. You can't hide the boy forever. He's yours isn't he?"
"He is. And I'm so proud of him. His name is Arthur. I shall live with him at a house over on the east cliff. And for your information I've ceased to care one single whit what people think about me for having a child out of wedlock. However, for the sake of appearances, he has become my legal ward."
Branwell seemed to have grown in stature since his release from the demon. Adeline saw his skin had already been touched by the sun and was glowing. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He stared at her steadily as if he was seeing her for the first time. She wondered if he despised her as much she feared he would. With an impatient movement he flicked the hair out of his eyes.
"Arthur," he said. "Young man. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." His hand shot out in a greeting.
The boy laughed, broke free of his mother, shook Branwell's hand, turned and ran up to the beach with his bucket. Both adults watched him go, his little legs pumping with the sheer joy of youth. Arthur stopped near the rocky outcrop of the east cliff, tipped all the shells and stones out onto the sand and began sorting them into piles.
Adeline folded her hands in front of her. "I've decided to settle in Templesea for the fresh air. Besides, Arthur has always known this place. He has friends here and relatives of course. Everyone thinks Mr and Mrs Galton are his grandparents. It suits us. If you don't like it, we never need to meet. I intend to live a quiet life."
"You will live alone?"
She turned to him, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "With my son."
"How will you live?" Branwell said.
"I have come into a small inheritance. If I'm careful, it will do."
Branwell grinned. She was not getting married to another man. He stepped closer. "I see. You are a woman of means now. That's good. And I intend to pay you for the last six months. No one could have cared for me better and I insist, and this will add to your coffers significantly. You saved my life, Adeline Winslow, and I can never thank you enough."
She shrugged. "As you wish. I was trained to save lives. Perhaps it makes up for my frivolous past."
He put a hand on her arm. "I don't care about your past."
"There's so much you didn't see, you didn't know about me, yet you thought you knew everything."
"I know, I'm an arrogant fool. You know it's true but I feel like a better man when I'm with you and I wish for more of it, more time with you I mean."
Adeline glanced at her son, then at Branwell. The boy was scooping sand into his bucket. "What is it you wish for, specifically, Captain Hughes?"
"To make you mine. To take you for my wife. I think we've known each other long enough for love to grow."
Adeline shook her head. "For most of that time, you've been asleep."
"I felt you there. Beside me."
"And I will marry you. Because I know you did."
Fluttering, her heart in her throat, she tilted her face up to him. He took her chin in his fingers, tracing a gentle kiss on her mouth.
Chapter 49
They waited until Branwell could walk without his cane. It was a December wedding and snow fell in thick flakes over the roofs of Templesea. Candles burned amongst wreaths of holly in the church of St Mary and All Saints. Adeline held Branwell's hand on the steps of the church, and she carried a sprig of witch hazel, the long yellow petals soft against her white gloves. In her mouth, the taste of his kiss.
Little Arthur clutched a wooden train. He had slept in the arms of old Mrs Galton through most of the service, wrapped in a new blue woollen coat. Raven' Nest house was already rented out to a gentleman for the winter months. She could see her own new little house, its brick facade, the slate tiled roof, now smothered with a thick layer of snow, from the church. Smoke curled from the chimney. They had decided to live there during the winter months. Raven's Nest would become their summer house, perched high above the ancient temple to the goddess of the sea.
Branwell squeezed her hand. He was anxious to get home and take her to his bed. Arthur was to spend the night at the Galtons. Adeline closed her eyes. She knew every inch of Branwell's body. Had washed him many times during his long, strange illness, but never once had she seen him active and naked in her presence.
She thought of his hands on her breasts, her hips, her thighs. She shivered. They had years to explore each other, yet she could hardly wait.
He was hers and she was his.
Reverend Gillyflower gave her a knowing look. "This is a blessed union," he said. "If ever I saw one."
Aunt Theodora put a hand on Adeline's shoulder. "He's
a bit aloof. But I like him," she whispered.
Adeline smiled, the kind of smile that grows from the inside out.
Chapter 50
By the end of the summer Raven's Nest had been fully wired. Electricity was the future, Adeline insisted, and Branwell may as well accept it.
Her influence swept through every room in the house. Crumbling brickwork was restored to pristine condition, fresh drapes fluttered in the breeze. She even had all the furniture recovered in lighter fabrics. The house rang with the sound of children playing since Arthur was a sociable little person and his friends loved to run along the corridors or fly their kites in the windy courtyard.
Flowers graced every room, scenting the air and softening Branwell's heart. He removed many of his old reference books to a study at the back of the house. Brooding less and less over demons and spirits left him time with his now growing family.
As summer gave way to the sepia colours of autumn, Adeline announced she carried another child. Branwell took this news with a huge helping of gratitude. He had never foreseen such joy was possible for a man like him, and every night he lay with his hand on Adeline's belly, his heart fit to burst.
With the careful choosing of a talented stonemason, Adeline ensured the raven statues guarding the house had all signs of weathering smoothed away. There was nothing which did not prosper with the proper application of a good eye and a loving heart. More and more she looked at her husband and saw this to be as true of humans as it was of bricks and mortar.
In the main hall, she had the mosaic cleaned and polished. The hieros gamos. A sacred marriage between the soul and the spirit.
Surrounded by the serpent of universal regeneration.
She felt the life inside her whirling round and round as a new soul began its long journey. Turning to the man standing tall by her side she told him the truth of her soul. "I love you."