Helen Dickson (9 page)

But he would find out.

When the little group had left the beach and the mysterious vessel had sailed like a ghost into the darkness Edward glanced up, automatically, at the sky. The moon and stars were concealed behind thick cloud, making it a night of miracles—a night perfect for a landing. Everything was back on schedule. He turned his face to the sea, his eyes alight with a burning intensity, as he waited for the moment when the cutter with its illicit cargo would enter the bay some time after one o’clock.

T
he hall was warm and welcoming, the candles and the red glow of the fire doing much to erase the shadows, and the two hounds, sprawled in a heap of legs and soft brown eyes in front of the hearth, lightened the mood. But Caroline saw none of it as she stood holding her baby, her eyes moving aimlessly about her, as though she neither knew nor cared in which direction she went.

Discarding his cloak, Lucas took Laura aside, his face grave with concern. ‘As you can see, Caroline is sunk in lethargy and depression. The journey has been long and arduous and has taken its toll,’ he said quietly. ‘She is exhausted. The infant needs feeding. You have done as I instructed and prepared a room?’

‘Yes—although,’ Laura said, turning to John, ‘perhaps you would see about fetching the crib from the nursery, John.’

‘I’ll see to it right away.’

‘It is vitally important that no one knows Caroline’s true identity, Laura. The servants must be told no more than is necessary—everyone but John, that is. She will be known as Mrs Wilton—a close friend of yours from London.’

‘What is her real name, Lucas?’

‘She is the Countess de Mournier. Perhaps you remember Anton, her husband. He and I were good friends.’

Laura recalled the Comte de Mournier. It would be difficult to forget such an attractive, extremely charming and amiable young man. ‘Yes, I remember him. But—you speak of him in the past tense, Lucas. Has some mishap befallen him?’

Lucas’s eyes clouded. ‘Anton went the way of all the others of aristocratic birth—to the guillotine. At this present time the life of a noble is not worth the candle in France.’

‘Oh, God! No—not that,’ she whispered, horrified. Like everyone else in England, Laura had heard all about Dr Guillotine’s newly invented machine for beheading victims, which was meant to spare them needless pain—and instead he had created a monster. The new republic considered the contraption to be a real social advance—democracy in action—but its efficiency meant an increase in the severed heads of innocent victims, from tens to hundreds a week.

‘I am so sorry, Lucas,’ she whispered, sensing his discomfort at bringing up the terrible incident.

He looked down at her, sensing her sympathy. ‘I know you are. We will speak of it later.’ There was an edge to his voice that told Laura how deeply he mourned his friend. ‘The most important thing now is to see Caroline and baby Louis settled.’

Laura went to Caroline and looked at the swaddled bundle in her arms. Gently she drew the blanket from the baby’s face. He was beautiful, with the same delicate features as his mother, and the downy hair covering his perfectly shaped head was the same colour as his father’s. His little blue eyes were wide open and regarding her seriously as he sucked hungrily on his tiny fist.

‘Oh, he’s adorable—and so small,’ she breathed. ‘How old is he?’

‘Three weeks,’ Lucas told her. ‘Take Caroline to her room, Laura. I will see to it that refreshment is sent up.
She hasn’t eaten since Dieppe—and then I could only persuade her to eat by stressing how important it was that she kept her strength up for the infant. She has few clothes—for herself and the child—but I’m sure you can accommodate them.’

‘Of course. I’ll find something out,’ she said, unable to notice anything about her husband’s present mood except that he was tense.

‘You and I will talk later,’ he said, ‘when she is settled.’

Laura turned from him and placed her hand on Caroline’s arm. ‘You look tired, Caroline. Come, let me take you to your room.’

Caroline appeared unwilling to go anywhere without Lucas, and her eyes flew to his face in alarm. ‘Lucas?’ she uttered, which was the first word that had passed her lips since stepping onto English soil.

He smiled reassuringly at her, his eyes resting tenderly on her face. ‘It’s all right, Caroline. The journey is over. You are quite safe and can rest now. Go with Laura. She’ll take good care of you and Louis.’

In the submissive way of one accustomed to obeying, Caroline traversed the long stone staircase with Laura to the room that had been provided for her and her child. Lucas watched them go, grateful and proud for his wife’s forbearance.

It was not until John brought in the crib that Caroline’s eyes lost their frightened look. She placed Louis into it while she removed her cloak and unfastened the buttons at the front of her gown. When Laura spoke softly to her she allowed her to put an arm about her waist and lead her to a chair so that she could feed the now wailing infant, who was most indignant that his food was being held at bay.

Caroline ate and drank what Laura gave her, saying nothing other than thank you. When she was washed and put into one of Laura’s clean nightgowns, after glancing at her
son sleeping in the crib beside the bed, she gratefully slipped between the sheets.

‘I can’t thank you enough for what you are doing for Louis and me,’ Caroline murmured.

Conscious that the other woman was reaching out to her at last, Laura sat on the bed beside her and met her dark eyes, seeing the sadness there. ‘I’m glad Lucas and I are able to help, Caroline. I’m sorry about Anton,’ she said gently. ‘Lucas told me what happened.’

‘Yes. When he sent me to the convent—I was near my time, you see—I didn’t see him again. Had I not been carrying Louis I would never have left him.’ Her voice was low and husky with emotion. Her eyes misting with tears, she looked away toward the window. ‘It has been hard coming to terms with what they did to him—knowing that Louis will never know his father.’

Her mouth quivered, her eyes meeting Laura’s with a look so mournful that Laura felt her heart contract with pity. Caroline swallowed down her tears, looking down at her hands. ‘Ours wasn’t a love match,’ she confided softly. Her frankness startled Laura. Caroline could see that, and a faint smile curved her lips. ‘But it was a good marriage,’ she went on, ‘and I felt a deep affection for Anton. He was a good man—none finer.’

She began to weep quietly, silent tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. ‘I will never forget the look in his eyes when I told him I was to have a child. He—he was so proud, so happy.’

Laura’s throat tightened. How she wished she could find some words of comfort. Caroline’s features were fine and delicate, her eyes huge and doe-like, fringed with dark, curling lashes. It was easy to see how Lucas would be driven to console such a lovely, appealing young woman. No man could remain unmoved by her beauty. The candlelight softened her hair to a silver glow, while her unhappiness was enough to melt a heart of stone.

But still Laura’s heart ached at the image of Lucas and Caroline together. It made her flinch to think of it, and she was ashamed that she should have such thoughts. How could she, when Caroline was mourning the loss of her husband? Even so, she reached out to touch Caroline’s hand in sympathy.

‘I wonder how I can live. I am so torn with conflict,’ Caroline went on, with a catch in her voice and a strange look of absorption appearing on her face. ‘Ever since Lucas came to the convent to fetch me, I have lived from one moment to the next. He has been so kind and considerate to Louis and me—a tower of strength. Of course, Mama would be horrified if she was to learn I had travelled halfway across France alone with a man other than my husband, but Lucas and I have known each other too long for us to worry about such formality.’

Laura’s eyes never moved from Caroline’s face as she listened to her praising her husband in such glowing terms. Clearly this other woman had seen him as her knight in shining armour. Suddenly it was as if Laura was made of stone—and she wished to God she were. As she fingered a coil of her pale blonde hair a smile appeared on Caroline’s face, and died out like a flicker of firelight. That was the moment Laura perceived that under the softness and vulnerability of this still figure was something desperate and resolved—something not to be ignored. Something threatening and dangerous.

Caroline looked at her steadily. ‘My sister Daisy and I both knew Lucas well in London, and counted him as our good friend. I’d like to count you as a friend too, Laura.’

Caroline was so smooth, so plausible, especially drawing Daisy into the conversation. Laura couldn’t detect the slightest hint of mockery or rivalry in her eyes or manner. All the same she wanted to say that she didn’t think they could ever be friends, but she realised that if she was to
spurn Caroline’s offer it might create embarrassing difficulties as time went on.

‘I am sure that would be sensible,’ she murmured.

‘Good. You and I are both far removed from our beginnings, Laura. It must have come as a tremendous shock to discover Lucas was still alive after two years.’

Laura experienced a brief rise of irritation, but forced it down, for there was nothing about the tone of Caroline’s voice or her manner to suggest it had been said in anything other than innocence. ‘He told you about that?’

‘Yes. I recall your wedding, and how surprised everyone was when he married you—someone he hardly knew. You were always so shy, so quiet—and Lucas was very much a man of the world. It was generally thought he would never settle down. I remember it gave rise to an enormous amount of gossip at the time.’

Of course Caroline would know the truth of her marriage to Lucas, and that he had married her out of duty, Laura thought bitterly. After all, it was highly probable that Caroline would now be mistress of Roslyn Manor, were it not for Lucas’s mistake in abducting the wrong woman. How Caroline must resent her, because she had the prize she’d coveted. Laura felt suddenly exposed. Humiliation engulfed her.

‘I do not need reminding that Lucas married me for honour’s sake and not for his own, Caroline,’ she said, having no wish to refer to the misunderstanding that had occurred at the time, and which Caroline must know about. ‘But I resolved from the beginning to make him a good wife. In that nothing has changed.’

Laura rose, looking down at the other woman, her misgivings etched in the troubled frown on her face. Whether future ally or foe, Caroline was a guest in her husband’s house, and was to be treated to a warm Cornish hospitality. For the sake of her own happiness she must accept the
situation. But, despite Caroline’s apparent goodness, she neither cared for nor trusted this clever young woman.

‘Try not to worry,’ she said. ‘Everything is going to be all right—and you have such a lovely little boy.’

Caroline gazed down at her sleeping son and smiled wistfully. ‘Yes, he is, isn’t he? Louis is the joy of my life.’

Laura followed her gaze. ‘I would like to have a son,’ she murmured absently. ‘You are so lucky in that.’

Caroline met her eyes, offering a teary smile. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

Overcome with tiredness, Caroline closed her eyes. Laura stayed with her until she fell to sleep, before going in search of her husband. She desperately tried to crush the apprehension that had stirred restlessly at her first sight of Caroline, but she was finding it extremely difficult.

Caroline had known Lucas long before she did—and what was more they had been close. After Anton’s death and the time Caroline had spent alone with Lucas, had her aspirations been revived? Laura wanted to know and yet feared to know the truth. Oh, if only Caroline hadn’t confided to her that her marriage to Anton had not been a love match—and she could not for the life of her understand why she had, for she considered the relationship between a husband and wife a private matter.

Intuition was doing all kinds of things to her self-esteem. She told herself that she was being over-sensitive, but she could not conquer the unease that was gnawing at her heart. However, as she descended the stairs she was determined to try and deal with the situation with a semblance of equanimity.

Lucas was still in the hall, standing in front of the fire deep in thought, one booted foot resting on the fender. He had discarded his coat and neckcloth, and the arms that showed below his rolled-up shirtsleeves were hard and sinewy.

Laura’s eyes skimmed the tall, lean narrowness of him,
and she sensed the tension inside him. What had happened to him in France? she wondered. Where had he been and why had he returned with Caroline and her child? Her heart ached. She wanted to go to him and have his arms around her, for him to hold her tight and kiss away all her fears, desperate for him to reassure her that there was nothing to substantiate her jealous imaginings.

But he seemed unduly brooding and withdrawn from her. Sensing her presence, he turned. A heavy lock of black hair fell over his brow, and the candlelight washed over his angular face. She had difficulty reading his expression, but she could see his features were taut with some kind of emotional struggle.

‘How is Caroline?’ he asked.

‘Sleeping. I must go back and stay and keep vigil—in case she or the child wakes. She—is really quite beautiful, isn’t she?’ Laura murmured hesitantly.

‘She is,’ he agreed amiably, ‘and I am sure Caroline will return the compliment when she is feeling more herself.’

Laura was a bit at odds as to how best to proceed. Lucas sensed this.

‘I suppose you are confused about what is happening—which isn’t surprising. There are times when I am confused myself.’

Laura’s mind groped around like someone caught in quicksand. ‘Yes—yes, I am. I am also curious. Could you be specific and tell me what happened in France, Lucas, and why Caroline has returned with you? And why is there this need for secrecy where she is concerned? Is it not enough that you must remain hidden from everyone, without there being two of you?’

‘For myself, now I have managed to bring Caroline and Louis safely out of France without mishap, it no longer matters who knows I have returned. Had I made my presence here known earlier, there was every possibility that something of an unpleasant nature might have occurred that
would have prevented me from returning to France. However, Caroline’s and Louis’s presence in this house must be concealed for the time being.’

‘I see—or at least some of it,’ Laura said wearily, bewildered by all the happenings. ‘How long was Caroline in the convent?’

‘Six weeks. Shortly before I was released from La Force, Anton, who had been captured when a mob of revolutionaries stormed the Chateau de Mournier, was brought in. As an aristocrat he didn’t stand a chance of reprieve when he was taken before the tribunal. Having feared such a thing happening, thank God he had the presence of mind to send Caroline to a convent in Touraine to await the birth of their child.’