“Not from this angle. Looks damn solid to me. Absolutely immense.”
“Shut up, Darcy.”
Chapter 37
Anne Marie heard a visitor being welcomed at her door by the family butler and, when she recognized the voice, hurried into the hall. “Mark! Hardly see you for years while you travel around the world, and now we can’t seem to rid ourselves of you.”
“Gracious as always, cousin.” Both laughing, they kissed on the cheek.
“My heavens, you’re walking very fine these days. More like a cat, less like a racoon.”
“Thank you, I think. Have you interesting visitors or is it safe to enter?”
She took his arm. “No one remotely interesting. It’s only my sister and your sisters. We’re in the…”
“How nice for you all. I thought I’d visit with the children, if you don’t mind. Make certain there is no residual trauma from our family festival of fun.”
“Not that we don’t adore your visits, Mark, but the children really are perfectly fine. As I told you last week, and the week before that, you needn’t worry so over them.”
“Well… I… have gifts for them. Yes, that’s it. I have gifts.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, of course I’m certain.”
“You don’t seem to be. Anyway, you cannot go up right now, they’re having lessons. Geography. Or drawing. Or reading. Should be finished within quarter of an hour. First come to the conservatory and say hello. We’re having tea and playing with paints.”
“Who is?”
Could his head injury be flaring up? Perhaps his hearing affected? Kathy had mentioned how she’d needed to shout instructions to him while she’d nursed him, otherwise he completely ignored her. “Kathy and Alice are mud wrestling in the nude out in the garden. The neighbors are furious, say they’re ruining the rhododendrons.”
“Don’t believe it will rain. No.”
“Are you all right, Mark?”
“Absolutely. I’ve already told you I feel much better, even begun riding again. The doctors – wait. What did you say about Kathy and Alice?
“Nothing. Come into the back parlor and visit. We are gossiping at a fever pitch – some of it may even be true. In fact, I hear from my cook’s second cousin’s great aunt’s daughter who works for Uncle Fitz that you and Lucille are no longer speaking. Heard you had a huge row and that she slapped you so hard she injured her hand - which, of course, serves her right. Come and tell us all about it.”
“That was weeks ago. It was entirely my fault. I’ll explain later.”
“You will explain now, come along! We want details. You may visit with the children a little later, perhaps before their naps with Nanny Clarke. Do you know I think she’s traveled nearly as extensively as you have, Mark. She’s wonderful, feel ridiculous calling her a nanny. She is nurse, teacher, governess, all in one very pretty, very capable little package. And, did you know her father was General Sir Charles James Napier of India?”
“Yes, I had heard. Is that the correct time, Anne?” Mark compared his pocket watch with the immense, Bavarian grandfather clock ticking loudly in the hall.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Damn me, we haven’t much time.”
“We haven’t much time for what?”
“Nothing.”
“Mm-hmm. I don’t believe you’re at all well, Mark. Anyway, I have lovely gossip about Martha’s father, Sir Charles. Would you like to hear it?”
“Not particularly.”
“Well, Uncle Fitz knew him as well, said he ended a bankrupt, drank himself silly. I think your grandfather wanted Uncle F to court Martha’s mother, many years ago. She’s remarried some dreadful man. The wife, not Martha. Martha is widowed, you know; married beneath herself, or so I surmise, and Sir Charles and his wife tossed her out. How could anyone do that to their own child? Do you like my hair? Had it all cut off and Jamie hates it, wants me to wear a turban to bed. I said to him, I said, do you have any idea how long it will take me to grow all that hair back? I said, you’d better become accustomed to my hair short for a long while or you can just sleep in your own room. Anyway, they should be finishing up any moment. I mean the geography lesson, not Sir Charles and his wife. He’s dead. The children love your visits, Mark, they really do. You should have children of your own, you know. Mark, what do you think of this painting? Mary Margaret gave it to Jamie for his birthday, insists we hang it here in the main hall, but I keep telling her how hideous it is… Mark, did you hear me? Mark?”
Anne Marie spun around in a circle, but Mark was gone.
Shaking her head, she went to rejoin her sister and cousins. “You’ll never guess what Mark just told me about that hideous Bunny Armitage.”
Mary Elizabeth looked up, completely confused. “I thought we liked Bunny.”
“Unca Mark!” Little Steven snatched a paper from the table and ran as fast as his little legs could move. “Unca Mark, look! I drew a map of America for Uncle Father Ted! Did you know is going to America? Pick me up, please!”
“You are a bossy little fellow, aren’t you? Hello, Deborah. Oh, I do like your dress.”
The little girl had also run to greet him and was now pulling him further into the room. “Thank you. Miss Martha did my hair. I want to cut my hair like Mama’s, but Papa said no. Did you bring us something today?”
“Yes, I did but–” He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her. “Mrs. Clarke.”
“Mr. Fitzwilliam.” She smiled shyly at him and curtsied.
“Why do you always stare at Miss Martha like that, Uncle Mark?” Deborah patted a chair for him. “You make her stammer. She showed me how to check my heartbeat, she’s a nurse. I want to be a doctor someday, and she and I will help all the poor people when I grow up. Sit with us – we are just finishing learning about Boston, Maine. I want to go there someday. Will you take me?”
“Me too!”
“Yes, I shall take both of you to Boston, Massachusetts one day, and we may include Miss Clarke as well.”
“That will be very jolly. Did you bring me anything?” Steven peeked into a cloth bag Mark had set on the table. “Did you? Ooh, Debby, he did. I see something.”
“I can see no grass will ever grow under your feet.” He set Steven down, pulled an ornate whimsical little box from the bag then brought the boy back in with a hug. “This is for you.”
“I love it! Thank you. I’ve always wanted one.”
“Did you really?”
“Yes!... What is it?”
“This is a cricket box, all the way from China. You keep a cricket in here for good luck, but only for a few days. Then you set it free.”
“May I catch one now?”
“Not until the spring, Steven. Then we’ll look for one together.” He turned to Deborah watching in fascination. “I haven’t a cricket box for you, sweet.”
“Oh, not to mind, Uncle Mark. I can listen to Steven’s cricket sing, can’t I?”
“No! He’s my cricket,” pouted Steven and then immediately felt badly for shouting. “I’m sorry, Debby, I didn’t mean that. Here, you can have my cricket box, just don’t be sad.”
“That was kind of you, Steven, you do the family proud; however, I have a different gift for Deborah.” Mark reached into his bag and brought out a small, carefully wrapped package.
“What is that?” Deborah asked, her eyes wide as Mark peeled back the tissue.
“Is she a princess?” whispered Steven, standing on tiptoe to see.
“This is a Jumeau bebe doll from France. It is rather delicate, so you must be gentle with her.”
“I know.” Deborah nodded then laid it carefully on their work table and stepped back, clasping her hands together in sheer joy. “She’s beautiful, Uncle Mark. Thank you! She’s even more beautiful than the doll from Spain you brought last week, and even more beautiful than the scarf from Brussels.”
“And I love my music box and my soldiers.” Steven wrapped his arms
around Mark’s neck. “I do hope you come back again next week.”
“You like me that much, do you?”
“Oh, yes.” Steven nodded. “You always bring us something wonderful.”
As the children chatted excitedly over their gifts Martha finished moving the small desks and chairs back against the wall. “All right, little ones, no more school work for today; shall we put away our books in their proper places now? Perhaps we’ll start learning about China and France tomorrow. Would you like that?”
Both children nodded vigorously. “Could we learn about Swisaland too?”
“Switzerland, Steven; and, yes. We can talk about Switzerland if you like.”
“Good. Then Unca Mark can bring us chocolates!”
While the children stored their books and papers away Mark stepped back and reached for Martha’s hand, whispering, “I must speak with you.”
“Not here. Not now,” Martha shook her head and chewed her bottom lip, watching the children to see if they heard. The truth was there was nothing Martha wanted more than to be alone with Mark again. They had been meeting as often as possible, both inside the schoolroom or outside in the park, but for only an hour each time so as not to raise suspicions. There was never enough time with him, the rushed conversations, the confidences spilling back and forth, the limitless tenderness for each other. The loving. He was relentless in his pursuit, and she was a more than willing participant. It had all begun in earnest weeks before…
On her very first afternoon free from her duties at the Durand household Martha visited her husband’s grave. She had not been there in a long while, not since she’d used the last of her small inheritance to return his body from the battlefields of Crimea. Now she sat quietly on a stone bench in the old churchyard, lost in memories, good and bad. Finally, she spoke.
“Sorry it’s taken me so long to visit. At first it hurt too badly that I’d lost you; and, of course, I was also a bit put out with you for deliberately charging into that cavalry stampede, attempting to save your friends, all drunk as lords. I was more than put out, actually; I was furious! I thought you very selfish, Thomas Clarke, never considering I would be left alone after abandoning everything to marry you – my family, my home, stranded millions of miles away from my country! I…”
She stopped and took a deep breath. “Dear me. Apparently, it still rankles. Sorry. I hate to admit this, but Papa may have been right after all – perhaps we were too young to marry when we did. Of course, we believed we were very grown up and mature at the time, capable of anything. I suppose too that I thought it would be exciting to travel to another part of the world and you were so very handsome in your uniform. In the end you gave your life for your friends, a true hero. Even if they were all idiots.” She huffed a lock of hair from her forehead.
“But it has been difficult for me. I’ve been all alone, lonely enough to want to die some days; and well, the thing is… I’ve met someone very special. Tom, I have fallen deeply in love. Sorry. Anyway, you may be pleased to learn it is also absolute hell. Yet another incredibly impetuous emotion on my part; still, the heart goes wherever it wants. He’s brave, handsome, noble, funny, brilliant. You have no idea how much I hate him.” She dabbed her watering eyes with her handkerchief.
“The brute kissed me last night! And, oh my goodness, I melted into a sort of pudding at his feet before reality came crashing down around me. It appears Mark Fitzwilliam belongs to another woman, left with her to go to the opera – I hate the opera – and I stood there like a fool, all sweaty and with my heart pumping wildly. He just walked out, the cad. Why must he be so adorable? Well, he treated me no better than I deserved, a common servant being seduced by the master. Yes, dear, I do realize I’m being overly dramatic.
“If I’d only met him when I was in society, remember? When I was the daughter of General Sir Charles Napier. Of course, I never could have, since I was in India and he was here. Still…”
“Mrs. Clarke?”
A few feet in front of Martha stood the very man of whom she spoke. She stared dumbly at him for the longest time. Perhaps he was a dream. A sick, vile, wonderful dream.
“Mrs. Clarke, I hope you won’t think me too bold – however, I followed you here today, when you left my cousin Anne’s house. Actually, that makes me sound rather disturbed, doesn’t it?”
“How long have you been standing there?” she squeaked.
“Not very long. I wanted to give you privacy. I could see you were speaking to… whomever is in that grave – in fact, it seemed you’d never stop speaking. May I ask who that is?” He had heard enough to know already that it was her late husband, felt the bile of jealousy rise up his throat for a dead man. Good God, he was losing his grip on reality because of this woman. Mark fiddled with his gloves, shifted his weight from one foot to another, nearly dropped his cane, cleared his throat.
She stood proudly. “Not that it is any of your concern, but this is my late husband, Thomas Elvin Clarke. He was a Lieutenant with the rank of Captain. I’d ask him to stand, however…”
Mark stifled a laugh; didn’t seem appropriate, somehow.
“… that commission cost him both his life and his last fifteen hundred pounds. He thought that would impress my father. The purchase I mean. It did not. He was killed during the Crimean War. I learned to be a nurse there. After he died, I brought him back with me to be buried near his home – how silly of me, of course it was afterward, I would not have attempted that before – I mean – well, here he is. Are you satisfied?”
“It’s nothing to me with whom you speak; however, I noticed he wasn’t saying much back.”
“He was always very shy. You probably believe it’s silly to be speaking to a grave.”
“No. On the contrary. My father speaks to my mother all the time. He also has his meals at her resting place during good weather where he argues with her, tells her naughty limericks. Sings. Must for torture for the poor woman. However, I don’t find it silly at all. He adored her. He still does. Do you still adore Lieutenant Clarke?”
Her legs wobbly, she sat again, looking embarrassed, nervous, uncomfortable. “Adore? No. I will always love Tommy. However, in the end I still am upset that he didn’t protect met. He knew I wasn’t properly prepared for camp life, I was too young to marry, pampered. He never told me what to expect because he feared I wouldn’t go with him.”
“Why did you?”
“My father was very strict, my mother unfeeling. They fought a good deal over his gambling and drinking. And, of course, I was curious about life. I wanted to be thought a woman. Most importantly, Tommy had lovely hair.” She smiled sadly. “In reality I was a silly, spoiled little girl.”
“Yes. Sounds as if you were. Are you done here now? May we speak?”
Who could have guessed the man she adored could be so abrupt? And why did she find that bizarrely endearing? “Very well. What do you wish to discuss?”
“You know perfectly well.” Mark loosened his suddenly too tight cravat. “There’s nothing to it but for me to just say it outright. You’ll find I’m a very forthright person. Always speak my mind. You ask anyone, especially my sisters. They’re always telling me I’m too blunt for my own good. Well?”
“Well, what? You haven’t said anything yet.”
“You’re in love with me.”
“I am not!”
“You were just saying so, to Tommy.”
“I thought you were giving me privacy!”
“I lied!”
“Of all the ridiculous, arrogant things. Love you? I hardly know you.”
“Nevertheless, you kissed me very thoroughly last evening.”
“You kissed me!” Why did he keep pointing this embarrassing fact out to her! “Stand aside, I’m leaving.”
“You don’t deny you love me because you cannot. I just heard you tell your dead husband that you were madly in love – which must have been devastating to the poor fellow.”
“Again, you told me you
heard nothing!”
“Stop shouting. I heard enough.”
“You – you took advantage of me yesterday. It was unfair – you’re a family member and I am a servant. Decent men do not try and seduce servants.”
“I didn’t need to try very hard though, did I? And what of the hospital? You were not a servant then. No. You were a nurse and I your helpless patient. You could say it was you taking advantage of me.”
Martha was shaking now with humiliated fury. “I could barely walk by your bed without you pulling at me,” she hissed.
“Aha, so you do remember! And, you loved it! Admit it.”
“Of all the egotistical men in the world, you must be their king!”
“You kissed me as if your life would end if you did not. Admit it.”
She meant to grab her reticule and stomp away, but only ended up turning in circles in search of it. “To say such things! And in front of my husband!” Suddenly she burst into tears. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you torturing me?”
“Who better to torture than the woman I love?”
The sudden shock stopped her tears. “Hmm?”
“I love you, Martha, as deeply as you claim to love me, and much more. In fact, I adore you. I always have, and I always will.”
She blew her nose, never taking her gaze from his.
“Kissing you makes my heart race, my blood boil, my entire life worth the living of it! There, I’ve said it. I’ve never met any other woman that made me feel like this; and, believe you me I have made a very good sampling on four continents.”
“You were doing so well until then,” she sighed. Her heart would break if he were lying, if he walked away from her again.
“Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there. You’re wonderful and beautiful and kind and brave, and I’ll not lose you again, damn it! Have I made myself clear?”
She melted. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“I’ll never understand women. Of all your qualities that’s the least important to me and the only one you seem to have heard. Yes, you’re exquisite. Your face has the delicacy of a Delacroix, or a Manet. Your figure would seduce the Pope. Your voice is deep and sweet, like a dozen violins…”
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