The Nightingale Legacy

by Catherine Coulter

  “Certainly,” she said, and tried to straighten her clothes. She walked to the mantel and tucked and patted her hair into place as she looked into the mirror. “How delightful of you to extend me an invitation.”

  “I don’t want to,” he said as he took her arm. “But I see no other choice. If you were to leave without introduction, they would believe you my mistress, a female of no importance at all. You’re their neighbor as well. You must meet them.”

  “Yes,” she said, giving him a grin that made him want to kiss her again and smack her at the same time. “I see that now, though I can’t say that I would have understood anything so complicated a few minutes ago.”

  “Be quiet, Caroline.”

  Caroline left Mount Hawke in the middle afternoon. It had been drizzling lightly, but now it had stopped and a bit of sun was peeping through the still-lingering dark clouds. She rode Regina to St. Agnes Head. She dismounted and walked to the edge of the cliff. She stood there, just looking out over the choppy water, watching it crash against the black rocks below, spewing spray halfway up the cliff.

  “Who did this to you, Aunt Eleanor?”

  Regina nickered softly behind her.

  She sighed and began to walk along the edge, careful to stay back from the earth that looked loose from the rainfall. She found a path some fifty yards up from where Aunt Eleanor had been shoved over the cliff. It was the huge beach North had showed her, shaped like a big quarter moon, the cliffs towering high behind it, stark and barren. Slowly, very carefully, she made her way down the narrow path. It was strewn with small rocks and some not so small, and some she had to lift out of the way. No one had walked this path in quite some time, probably not since summer, when local children came here to swim. It took her ten minutes to reach the beach below. The sand was wet with the incoming tide. It was dark and dirty-looking, particularly with no bright sun overhead to soften the colors. Driftwood and rocks strewed the beach, which was very long, really, and deep, curving into darkness beneath the cliff. She wondered how far back the beach extended under the cliff. Next time she should bring a candle and explore. The rock looked to be shale and sandstone, and that’s why it had eroded so severely over time. She turned about and stared out at the sea. She imagined that at high tide most of the beach was covered in water, perhaps it went all the way to the cliff.

  She sat down on a large black rock and hugged her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. It was chilly, but not that chilly. It felt good. She looked at the waves rolling in, never the same, but always ending the same with the waves tossing themselves as far as they could reach on the beach, fanning out white and wispy into the sand, then withdrawing, again and again.

  She didn’t want to dither, she didn’t want to just let life happen to her. She didn’t want to be like Mr. Trebaw, who’d evidently not done very much. She wanted to be responsible for her life, to make decisions for herself. She didn’t want life to get away from her and leave her wallowing in something she didn’t want. But there was North, the man she wanted, and all he seemed to feel for her was his damnable lust and his wretched indifference, and even though she was fighting with all her might, it just didn’t look hopeful. She sighed and hugged her knees closer to her chest. She watched a sand crab scuttle to and fro for a good long time before it sank under the sand. What was she to do? How to make North agree to make her the happiest woman on earth?

  “I won’t stand for this, Caroline. You scared the devil out of me, damn you.”

  17

  SHE JUMPED, FELT her heart slam against her chest in fear, but for only a moment. Surely he couldn’t be all that indifferent, since he was here. She turned, smiling, and said, “Hello, North. I’m sorry I frightened you. I wanted to think and I came upon this path and came down to the beach. Remember, you showed it to me? Why are you here?”

  He looked uncertain for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I was out riding. I was going to visit Wheal David, then I just came here. When I saw Regina and didn’t see you I thought you’d gone over the cliff. Don’t ever scare me like that again, Caroline.”

  She smiled more widely. “I won’t.”

  “See that you don’t or I’ll throttle you.”

  “All right,” she said, still smiling, for she knew as well as he did that if he allowed himself to lace his fingers about her neck, he’d soon be kissing her.

  “Stop it, Caroline.”

  She just shrugged and looked out over the dark water. “I liked the Carstairses. Lady Victoria wasn’t at all ordinary. She’s very pretty and very charming. Her husband adores her. He’s very possibly nearly as handsome as you are, not as handsome, mind you, but nearly.”

  “She’s also pregnant.”

  “Really? She’s quite slender. How do you know that she’s pregnant?”

  He frowned at her. “You’re a damned female, couldn’t you tell?”

  “Well, no. You’re a damned man, so how did you know?”

  His frown cleared and he said with a man’s wonderful arrogance, “There’s a look about her, a sort of radiance, and her husband was very careful when he touched her. It’s really quite obvious.” He looked thoughtful, then said, “I’d say she was about three months along.”

  “Goodness, I had no idea you were so observant, North. I needn’t have bothered Dr. Treath at all. You could have simply looked at all my pregnant ladies and told them to do this and to do that. I’m very impressed.”

  He looked distinctly harassed. “Very well, you don’t believe me. At least I tried. I heard Rafael tell her that he wouldn’t caress her breasts no matter how much she wanted him to because he knew she was tender and he might hurt her. He told her to be patient, that Dr. Treath had told him that she would become less tender in a month or so. Then he would caress her all she wished. And then she said that she didn’t think he would hurt her because he could be gentle when he wasn’t dancing about the room, holding her with her legs wrapped around his… er, forget that. There, are you pleased now that you’ve pried it out of me?”

  “I didn’t realize that a woman’s breasts got tender.”

  “Caroline! Dammit, control your mouth. That is highly improper, you shouldn’t even know about—”

  “Breasts? Being pregnant?”

  “Be quiet. Now, what are you doing here?”

  “Thinking.”

  “About your aunt?”

  She shook her head, looking away from him at the encroaching tide that had just tumbled a huge splaying wave that finally flattened only two feet from the big rock where she sat. “No, I was thinking about you. I was thinking about how one should take charge of one’s life. I was remembering how I was so very lonely for such a long time and how now there’s so much for me to do that I scarce even have time now to remember that other life and that other Caroline.”

  He went still as the rock she was sitting on.

  “That’s quite a lot, Caroline. However, if you were thinking about me in all that morass, you will stop it now. I don’t want you thinking about me, Caroline.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m simply not interested in you.”

  The lie was so blatantly false that she merely stared at him with as much fascination as she would study an aphid sitting atop a rose.

  “Very well, you force me to be blunt again. I told you it was all lust. Well, it is. If you weren’t so damned innocent, you’d be able to recognize lust for what it is. No, I take that back. You damned women, you want to wrap up a man in sentimental rot, you want him to ply you with flattery and roses and romance and spiritual intermingling.”

  “Then why did you come looking for me? Perhaps you wanted to make love to me? To assuage your lust?”

  It was his turn to look toward the waves since one just missed spewing over the toe of his Hessian boot. He took a step back. “Rafael is assisting me with my tin mines. Wheal David is a mess and there are still no answers. I may have to close it down until we figure out what to do. Howe
ver, Wheal Malcolm is doing well, so I will have as many of the men working over there as I can.” He stopped a moment and sighed. “But there is still so much I need to learn.”

  “I as well. I sent Owen to begin his lessons with Mr. Peetree, my manager.”

  “Ah, good, so Owen will deal with the mines. It’s not a lady’s responsibility to get involved with them.”

  “Why ever not, North?”

  “It’s a man’s sort of thing and well you know it. The miners are rough and tough and well used to danger since it’s a part of their lives. It would distract them to have a woman prancing about the mine.”

  “That sounds like a mare trying to tempt a stallion. Would it interest you if I pranced?”

  “You’re so bloody beautiful it wouldn’t matter if you crawled about with your head down.”

  Bloody beautiful. She liked the sound of that. She gave him another dazzling, very big smile. “Really, you truly believe I’m beautiful?”

  “Shut up, Caroline. Which mines are now yours besides Wheal Kitty?”

  “Wheal Daffel and Wheal Bealle.”

  “They’re both good producers. According to Rafael, Wheal Kitty is the highest producer hereabouts, and this Mr. Peetree is a man to be trusted.”

  “That’s a nice surprise. I have yet to speak to Owen, but I did tell him to learn all he could and not act like an idiot arrogant owner.”

  “He isn’t going to London. There’s no need.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He visited his father this morning and they spoke for quite a while. After Mr. Ffalkes ceased his loudest recriminations, Owen learned that his father is in very deep financial difficulty. He needs money very badly and saw you as his only salvation, thus his relentless pursuit of you.”

  “It’s lovely to be wanted for one’s money and not for oneself.”

  “This is real life, Caroline. Don’t be a fool. Don’t try to make me think you’re at all cast down about Mr. Ffalkes’s motives or that you’re even surprised.”

  “Very well. So what are we going to do?” There, she thought, she’d said it. We, not just her alone. She waited, watching the encroaching waves come closer and closer. If North didn’t pay attention, his lovely boots would shortly be splashed and likely ruined. A seagull flew overhead, then finally landed on a black rock near Caroline. A peregrine falcon lazily tilted his wings toward the beach.

  “I spoke to Mr. Ffalkes after Owen told me all that had passed between them.” North stared down at his feet, then held out his hand to her. “Time for us to retreat.”

  She knew he didn’t want to touch her, rather he wanted to touch her too much, all because of this lust of his, but she just smiled, placed her hand in his, and let him tug her gently off the rock. They walked slowly back toward the dark shadows beneath the towering cliffs.

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said he would get you and he swore that the third try would see him succeed.”

  She cursed, very colorfully and very loudly.

  He stared at her, then threw back his head and laughed loud and deeply.

  That laugh of his, it sounded wonderful. She said, “You’re not at all dour and brooding, North. That laugh was very nice. I’d like to hear it more.”

  He was immediately silent, immediately frowning. “It shouldn’t have happened. If I continue to laugh I shall have to inform Marcus Wyndham that he can no longer call me menacing and dark and dangerous.”

  “How very romantic. No, don’t tell him anything. Dark and dangerous, hmmm?”

  “Now you sound like Marcus’s young cousins, Antonia and Fanny. They found me vastly romantic.”

  “North, what will we do about Mr. Ffalkes?”

  He drew a very deep breath. “I guess you’ll just have to marry someone.”

  “Someone, North?”

  “That’s right. Someone.”

  “Not you?”

  “I’m not available.”

  She gave him a very long look, then sighed and smiled. She pulled away from him, back toward the path that led back up the cliff. She said over her shoulder, “Very well, I’ll marry Owen. That way, Mr. Ffalkes can have my money and I won’t have to worry about him shooting my husband so he can force me to marry him. Yes, Owen is the someone.”

  “Owen! Have you lost what few wits God gave you? He’s a boy, he’s barely got down on his chin. Damnation, he’s barely got a chin. You would badger him to death within a week, Caroline. Already he’s now under your thumb. He would have escaped his father to end up with you, the biggest female tyrant I’ve ever met. What’s more, I like Owen. He doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Well, then, how about Bennett Penrose? He has a chin. Indeed, he’s quite lovely on the outside. He’s three years older than you, so you can’t claim he’s a mere boy. He needs an heiress and I suppose I come close to being that. If Mr. Ffalkes were to shoot him to get me into widowhood, I shouldn’t feel so terrible about it. What do you think, North?”

  “Damn you, Caroline.”

  He strode to her, grabbed her upper arms, and shook her. She did absolutely nothing, just let him shake to his heart’s content. At last he seemed to have stopped dithering. He stopped abruptly and in the very next instant, suddenly wild and urgent, he was kissing her, crushing her against him. She knew then, more surely than she knew anything in her entire life, that this man was the only one for her. Did that mean spiritual intermingling? Did this mean she would expect him to spout sentimental rot? She parted her lips and felt his warmth, tasted the sweet wine he’d had for lunch, felt his tongue lightly stroke hers.

  At that moment, the sun broke through the clouds and they were bathed in fierce light. It felt odd, the heat of the sun overhead and the heat he was building deep inside her, beneath his hands, through her clothes.

  This time she knew he wouldn’t stop. She also knew she wouldn’t stop him, not that she’d ever tried to stop him in the past. Come what may afterward, tomorrow, next week, she wanted this to happen. She wanted him and perhaps, just perhaps, he would sense the love she felt for him, the commitment she was offering to him.

  Ah, she would give him laughter, surely there was nothing more seductive than laughter.

  But he stopped cold, in the very next instant, dropped his arms from her, and stumbled back several steps.

  “North?”

  He looked at her as if he hated her. “Listen to me, Caroline, if I don’t stop now, I won’t. That’s the truth of it. Do you want me to take your virginity here on a wet beach?”

  She looked him squarely in his face. “Yes,” she said. “I shouldn’t mind where you made love with me. I just wish you’d get a grip on yourself and do it, North.”

  He stared at her and she could see he was trying to come up with more arguments, but it was obvious his own lust, his own full-blown need, was hampering his thinking. It was probably a good thing.

  “Sand gets into everything,” he said at last. “I made love to Emily Trevedor on a beach when I was fifteen, and I itched in very embarrassing parts for a good week afterward. Poor girl, I don’t know how she dealt with the miserable sand.”

  Caroline laughed, she couldn’t help it. “Oh, North, you are so wonderful. I don’t care where you make love with me. I just want you so very much. I want you to teach me everything. I want you to show me how to please you and give you as much joy and excitement as you give to me.”

  He frowned at her, but said with some humor, “If you gave me any more excitement, I’d explode.”

  She cocked her head to one side in question.

  “Men are excessively uncomplicated when it comes to sexual matters. Don’t look at me like that. All right, Caroline Derwent-Jones. Just what the hell am I going to do with you?”

  Here I go, Mrs. Trebaw, she thought, no more dithering, and said, “Marry me.”

  He plowed his fingers through his thick hair. He looked harassed. He looked distracted. “Damnation, I hadn’t thought to marry anytime soon. I’m o
nly twenty-five years old, my birthday isn’t for four more months. I thought to marry when I was much older, say thirty-five or so, beget an heir and that would be that.”

  “Begetting an heir would be nice, North, but I think there are other things as well that would bring you pleasure and contentment and joy. Perhaps you could consider me being with you, laughing with you, discussing things with you—”

  “Fighting with me, doubtless.”

  “Certainly. That’s all a part of life. I can’t believe I’d smash you under my female tyrant’s thumb like you seem to think I’d do to Owen.”

  “Since when do you know so much about life?”

  She was silent for just a moment. She didn’t look at him, just said quietly, “I was very much alone for a good many years, and to be honest, I didn’t know much of anything. I knew there was more, but I didn’t know how to get it or even where to find it.” She drew a deep breath and looked at him straightly. “Now I have so much. Now I have you, and it’s wonderful to have someone to care about, someone to worry about, someone to trust. It’s still very new to me, and if I offend you, please forgive me, for I do it out of ignorance.

  “I think I grew up quite magically that night Mr. Ffalkes tried to rape me. I didn’t learn all that much about life, but I did grow up. No, no, I’m not trying to get you to pity me, to soothe me. It’s not that at all, North. It’s just that I want to marry you. No other man, just you. I want to spend my life with you, no other man. I want very much to be with you forever. I’m a good sort, North, and I swear I’ll try my best not to disappoint you, or pry when you want to be private, or beg you for flattery or romance or anything like that. I swear never to be maudlin.”

  He looked ready to stamp his boot into the sand. Instead, he plowed his fingers through his hair. “Why, for God’s sake? You see me as your best protection against Ffalkes? If so that’s nonsense. I’d kill the bugger before I married you for that reason.”

  “Oh no. I think I want to experience this lust business of yours for the next fifty years of my life.” She walked to him then and was pleased when he didn’t back up anymore. She slipped her arms around his back and looked up at him. “I think you’re the most wonderful man in the world, North.”