Sandringham Rose
Page 51
‘Of course I needed you,’ I responded, holding him to me. ‘I have always needed you.’
He looked up at me, a new light of hope in his eyes. ‘Then are you ready to give me your promise? You’ll marry me, when the time is right?’
‘If you will have me.’
In a rush of motion he got to his feet and reached for me, but stopped himself and, sobering, let his hands fall. ‘First… First I should tell you something. I’ve been to Canterbury.’
‘Canterbury?’ My heart hesitated and then beat on swifter and swifter – my heart understood, even if my head didn’t.
Reaching into an inside pocket, he took out a slim leather wallet. Inside it, he had a photograph which he gave to me. It showed a pretty young girl with long curling hair. She was wearing an apron over a neat tartan dress, and in her hands she held a whip and top. She was, I knew, ten years old.
As I stared down at it, the picture blurred through a haze of tears. ‘Is this…?’
‘Her name’s Annabel,’ he said.
I couldn’t have spoken, even if I had known what to say. Annabel? I would never have called her, that!
‘I employed a detective to find her,’ Geoffrey said. ‘It took a long time, but in the end, with the help of Doctor Proudfoot, the man obtained the information which led him to Canterbury. When he told me what he’d found, I decided to travel down there myself.’
Again I waited, my finger stroking the smooth surface of the picture, touching the image of my lost child.
‘Her adopted father’s a sub-dean at the cathedral,’ he said. ‘His wife was once a nurse. She served in the Crimea with Miss Nightingale. She knew your aunt, Miss Agnes Hamilton.’
I could only nod. Yes. Yes, go on.
‘They’re good people, I can assure you of that. Annabel is their only child, and very dear to them. She’s a beautiful child, happy and unafraid. She has your eyes, your smile…’ He took a long breath, adding more quietly, ‘She put me in mind of Lucy. That was how Lucy should have been – untouched, innocent, her young life unmarred by adult vices…
‘I couldn’t bring myself to harm that innocence. To have wrenched her away, brought her here… it would not have been fair to her. Or to you.’
Lifting drowned eyes, I found him watching me sadly.
‘You understand, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘They let me meet her and talk with her, but I didn’t tell her who I was. They’ve promised to keep us informed of her welfare. I’ll settle some money on her, and perhaps when she comes of age we’ll tell her who she really is. But… Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring her back with me. Not now. Not yet. To her, you and I are strangers.’
‘I know that,’ I managed hoarsely. ‘I’m just… I’m so glad to know she’s well, and happy.’ I looked down at the picture, knowing it would be etched on my heart for ever. So long I had waited, yearned, and wondered. To have this much of her was more than I had ever hoped for. It would be enough. ‘May I keep this?’
‘Of course. I brought it for you. Oh, my love…’ Gathering me to him, he held me close and I let my arms slip round him, leaning on him, comforted by his nearness.
There was so much I wanted to share with him – the truth about the accident at Onion Corner; the truth about my marriage; my hopes and fears and despairs through all the long years we had been apart. But that would come later, at leisure. We had all the time in the world. For now it was enough that we were together, with the rest of our lives still to come.
‘Why have you kept me waiting for so long?’ he asked. ‘I hoped you would write to me from France, but no letter came. And then I heard you were back in Norfolk and I looked in vain for a message. Many an evening I’ve driven by and watched the house – watched the lamp glow in your room – sat at your gate and willed you to look out, or even to spare me a thought.’
I lifted my head, saying, ‘I’ve thought of you constantly.’
His arms loosened their hold on me. ‘That wasn’t the impression I had last night. You appeared to have a whole c-covey of admirers running to your aid.’
Knowing jealousy when I heard it, I refused to give it credence by denying it, even if he wasn’t entirely serious. ‘I needed them all.’
‘Then perhaps I was superfluous.’
‘What nonsense! You know that’s not true! I wanted you above all. Oh, love… until now I wasn’t free to think of my own future. I’ve been too busy. Fighting to keep the farm; battling with the prince; having my steward turn against me, my harvest destroyed, being shot at… But I’ve thought of you all the time, and missed you, and wanted you—’
As I spoke of being shot at, I instinctively cradled my arm, drawing his attention to it, and then to the bandage that showed beneath my sleeve.
‘Were you hurt? No one told me!’ Frowning with concern, he laid his hands on my shoulders. ‘Shot? By whom?’
‘By McDowall. Oh, it’s nothing. Just a flesh wound. It bled a little, that’s all. I was lucky. Young Jack was there. He shouted to warn me, and then he went for McDowall. Got a rib or two cracked for his pains, but he’s bearing up bravely.’
He didn’t answer for a moment, he just watched me with a fierce, possessive set to his mouth. ‘Did you really miss me?’
‘How can you ask that? Yes! Yes, I missed you so much I hurt. Lying awake these long dark nights… If I’d known you were at my gate…’
‘Oh, my love!’ he muttered hoarsely, reaching for me, his mouth taking possession of mine and his arms closing about me to hold me achingly close, confirming all that lay between us, making promises for the future…
When at length we broke apart, he touched my face, tracing the line of my cheek as he surveyed me with tender eyes.
‘Will you marry me?’
‘I’ve said so.’
‘I want to hear you say it again,’ he informed me. ‘I need to be thoroughly convinced that it’s true.’ A little smile curved his mouth and made his eyes gleam. ‘Not that you have a deal of choice in the matter. You may not know it, but you’re obliged to marry me now, whether you like it or not. It’s by way of being a royal command.’
‘Indeed?’ I felt dizzy with happiness. ‘And how could that be?’
He was watching my mouth hungrily. ‘I told you I spent half the night talking to the prince. I told him everything. He understands, love. We have his blessing. With his approval, and his friendship, the gossips won’t dare speak against us. After he has been so kind as to offer his patronage, you wouldn’t dare offend him by refusing me, would you?’
It would not be as easy as he foresaw, but it didn’t matter. Whatever lay ahead, Geoffrey and I would face it, together. For now I was content. For now a bubble of joy was waiting to burst inside me. ‘Blackmail, Mr Devlin?’
‘Blackmail, coercion… kidnap, if I have to.’ Fierce passion burned in his eyes as he swept me more tightly against him, adding, ‘I shall never risk losing you again. Not for a day. Not for a minute. You’re mine, Rose Hamilton. Now and for ever. You’re mine!’
About the Author
Mary Mackie is an English writer of over 70 fiction and non-fiction books since 1971. Work of hers has been translated into 20 languages. She is known especially for light-hearted accounts of life looking after a country house for the National Trust.
Also by Mary Mackie
Sandringham Rose
The Clouded Land
A Child of Secrets
First published in the United Kingdom in 1999 by Knight, an imprint of Brockhampton Press
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo
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Copyright © Mary Mackie, 1999
The moral right of Mary Mackie to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781800324961
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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