Nina Coombs Pykare (15 page)

A scream ripped the peaceful silence.

Chapter Fifteen

Edwina leaped to her feet. The girls! Where were the girls? A frantic look showed her that they weren’t there on the blankets. Clutching her skirts, she ran in the direction of the screams, her bare feet digging into the wet sand, throwing it up behind her.

She raced around a pile of rocks. Henrietta stood at the water’s edge, wringing her hands. “Constance!” she screamed, pointing frantically at the water. “In there.” Edwina’s heart pounded in her throat. Oh God! Was Constance out there? In the water? Was that shimmer of yellow her hair? Her frock?

Edwina threw herself into the water. Her gown dragged on her a little, but it was lightweight muslin and she struggled on, swimming with all her strength.

She reached the spot Henrietta had pointed to, the spot where the yellow had shimmered, and taking a deep breath, dove beneath the surface. The water was clear and she should be able to see. She had to be able to see!

There! Was that Constance? She dove, but her groping fingers closed on nothing. She surfaced to pull in air, faintly hearing Henrietta’s continued screams. She dove again, searching frantically. There! Edwina grabbed, snatching at the hem of the yellow frock and dragging Constance to the surface. Treading water, Edwina turned toward the shore. And the earl was there beside her, his face twisted with fear.

Together they brought Constance to the shore and laid her out upon the sand. She had swallowed considerable water, but they turned her on her stomach and soon it was brought up. When Edwina turned her over, she opened her eyes. “M-Miss Pierce? P-Papa?”

The earl’s face had gone stark white, his eyes two black pits of pain. “Why did you leave us like that?” he demanded. “I told you to stay on the blanket! I told you!”

Poor Constance, already wretched, began to cry, great wrenching sobs, and reached up to clutch at Edwina in terror.

Edwina wrapped her arms around her. “It’s all right, Constance. Milord, it was my fault. I should have watched better. I’m sure Constance is sorry. She will never do such a thing again. Will you, dear?”

“No.” The child shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m – sorry—Papa,” she said between sobs. “Truly—sorry.”

“Papa!” The look on Henrietta’s face sent chills skittering down Edwina’s spine. “It wasn’t her fault, Papa,” Henrietta pronounced in sepulchral tones. “Nor Miss Pierce’s. It was Mama. I saw. A big wave came and took Constance away. It was Mama. I saw Mama’s white robe.”

The earl’s face went even paler. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked at Edwina in consternation.

“No, Henrietta, dear.” Edwina kept her voice firm, though her heart was still racing and her flesh rose in goosebumps at the thought of a watery Lady Catherine reaching out of the grave for her children. “You just saw the foam on top of the wave, dear. Your Mama had nothing to do with it.”

Henrietta shook her head. “I saw her. Mama’s angry! She wants you to leave. To go away from the castle.”

“I don’t believe that.” Edwina gave her words as much authority as she could. “I am giving you the best care I can. I’m sure that is what your Mama would want. How could she want otherwise?”

“No,” Henrietta began.

“That’s enough, Henrietta,” the earl interfered, sending his daughter a quelling look. “We’ll talk no more about it. We must think about getting ourselves dried off.”

Henrietta’s face was set in hard stubborn lines, but she eyed her father’s stern face and remained silent.

Edwina took the hem of Constance’s gown and wrung the water from it. Then she did the same to her own. Her fine new gown was soaking wet. But the sun was warm and should soon dry them with no ill effects. And Constance was safe.

Fortunately his lordship had discarded his coat before entering the water. Now he removed his shirt, too, and wrung the water from it.

Looking up from her chores, Edwina was surprised to see a vivid red line on his broad back . “Milord! You have hurt –”

She stammered to a halt, belatedly realizing that what she saw wasn’t a new injury but a scar. “I’m sorry, milord, I thought you had injured yourself.”

The earl shrugged. “I did, but it was many years ago. I was just a lad, really, but I thought it a great adventure to be with Nelson at Trafalgar.” He stared off into the waves. “Perhaps I would be better off now if I went to fight Napoleon. He, at least, can be seen.”

Her heart threatened to stop. She swallowed hard, trying to think, to answer. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave them. “Your girls . . .” she began.

He smiled, a sad enigmatic smile. “I know, Miss Pierce. I’m not the bravest man in the world, but I won’t run from my responsibilities—or my guilt. You have my word on it.”

Charles saw the question cross her face. She wanted to ask him what he had to be so guilty about. She couldn’t know. Even if he tried to explain it, she couldn’t know. But he knew. He knew this trouble was all his fault. He’d brought Catherine to the castle, he was responsible for her death.

Just then Constance was taken with a fit of coughing. He helped Miss Pierce attend to her until the child was breathing normally again and cradled in her arms. Edwina Pierce was a remarkable woman. She seemed to know how to do everything. To convince a guilt-ridden father that his children needed him. To pull a drowning child from the clutches of the ocean. She even seemed to think that she could stand against a ghost. But he was afraid even the determined Miss Pierce had met her match there. He was afraid Catherine’s ghost could be every bit as determined as Miss Pierce. And more powerful.

But enough of such thinking. He shook out his wet shirt and shrugged back into it. He glanced back at his daughter and saw the governess, kneeling in the sand in her new gown, sopping wet. The way it clung to her showed that he’d been right about her figure. It was quite an acceptable figure, filling out a little now that she could eat decently. “I am sorry you have ruined your lovely new gown,” he said.

She looked up, her wet hair curling around her face, and smiled sweetly. “It’s not ruined, milord. It just got washed a little sooner than I expected.”

He smiled in return, appreciating her attempt at humor. “Too bad you have nothing dry to change into,” he said. “We don’t want you to take a chill.”

The thought of her taking ill gave him a strange sensation in his stomach, an ache in his throat. Troublesome as she could be, he didn’t want to think about getting along without her. He wasn’t sure the girls could get along without her. Not now. Not after they’d gotten so attached to her.

He picked up his coat and moved toward her, holding it so she could slip into it. “Here, put this around you. I don’t need it.”

She stared up at him, those great eyes wide with surprise—and something else he couldn’t name. “Really, milord,” she said. “I have been wet through on much colder days than this. Much colder days.”

The memory raised such a look on her face that he silently cursed the father who had cared so little for her. “Please, I insist.” He draped the coat around her slender shoulders.

She looked down so uneasily that he almost took it back, but he wanted to keep her warm. He needed to keep her warm. “Please, Miss Pierce, don’t torture yourself with memories of old hurts.” He stumbled over the words, but he wanted to say them. “You’ve done wonders with the girls already and you’re indispensable to me. As long as I’m alive you need not fear hunger and cold again. I promise you, Holmden Hill will always have a place for you.” Somehow she’d gone from nuisance to necessity. He wanted her to stay. But what about her . . .

Edwina tried to smile. The earl’s words brought a big lump to her throat. No one had been kind to her for many years. This was almost too much. First the new gowns, and now this wonderful promise. “You are most kind, milord. Tha-”

His lordship raised a hand to interrupt her. “There’ll be no more talk of thanks between us. Any way, if thanks are to be given, it’s I who should be giving them. Not you.”

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. How ridiculous to be embarrassed by the man’s gratitude. She had helped his children. That was all. It was only right and proper that he acknowledge it. But the warmth she felt when he touched her arm . . . She grew acutely conscious of her straggling hair and the wet gown clinging to her body. She pulled his jacket closer around her — the warmth of it enclosing her, his vague indefinable scent teasing her nostrils. If she could just— “Perhaps we had better take the children home,” she said. “The sun is warm, but it’s best to take no chances about illness.”

The earl nodded gravely. “Of course.”

 If only she could see that little boy smile of his just once more. He looked so much younger and happier when he smiled like that, like a man who could actually enjoy life. But he didn’t smile. The accident had plunged him back into his melancholy.

The girls made no protest, carefully gathering up their shoes and stockings, and climbing the path to where the carriage awaited them. They were equally subdued on the return journey.

Henrietta’s face, in spite of her exposure to the sun, was very pale and her eyes, when Edwina turned to look at her, were strangely blank—almost as though her spirit was off elsewhere and not in the prim little body that sat so silently in her place. Constance scrambled to sit by Edwina, curling up against her. When Edwina put an arm around her and drew her close against her side, Constance made a little whimpering sound and huddled closer still.

If only Henrietta could be as open about satisfying her needs for affection. But in spite of all Edwina’s efforts, Henrietta still seemed distrustful of her. Edwina swallowed a sigh. Sometimes she could swear that she saw a wistful expression on the child’s face.

Suddenly feeling someone’s eyes upon her, Edwina looked up to find the earl gazing at her speculatively. As her gaze met his, something flickered there between them—flickered and was gone. She sighed. His lordship, seeing her with his child in her arms, must have been reminded of the delicate and beautiful wife that he had loved so much. And lost.

She felt the telltale lump forming in her throat again. She blinked back hot tears. How did it feel? How did it feel to be beautiful, to be loved devotedly? With sinking heart, she reminded herself that no number of new gowns could change the fact that she would never know love, wasn’t meant to know love. She was a governess. Just a governess. Nothing more. She must learn to be content with her station in life. She pulled his jacket closer around her. She must.

Chapter Sixteen

The rest of the trip back to the house was made in silence. Constance dozed in Edwina’s arms and Henrietta sat silent, staring still into space. Edwina, too, sat silent, but in her heart she was giving fervent thanks that the child in her arms was safe, that no more tragedy had befallen the earl’s family.

Edwina saw the girls to the stairs and prepared to follow them, but the earl put a detaining hand on her arm, an arm that was still encased in the sleeve of his jacket. “Miss Pierce?”

She felt the warmth of his hand through the damp sleeve, but she schooled her face to blankness. “Yes, milord?”

“I wish to see you in the library.”

“Yes, milord.” She’d already removed her straw bonnet and put it on the foyer table. Now she moved to get out of his jacket. Reluctant to let go of it but knowing she must, she pulled at one arm.

“No, wait,” he said. “It’s colder in here than outside. You’ll need its warmth while we talk.”

She pulled it around her. “Thank you, milord.” She couldn’t help noticing the difference in the man. Just stepping into the castle had changed him back into the morose gloomy man she had first encountered. Of course, Constance’s accident had been upsetting—to them all. But much more for the earl. There was no sign now of the laughing carefree man who had lifted them all down from the carriage and walked barefoot in the sand with such joyous abandon.

She turned back to the girls, standing there woodenly in their damp dresses. “You go on up,” Edwina said to them. “Put away your bonnets and get out of your damp things. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, Miss Pierce.” Constance’s unusual quiet could be attributed to her dunking in the water. Surely by tomorrow she would be her cheerful self again.

But to reach through Henrietta’s barrier of ice to the very frightened child within—that was going to be a difficult task, made even more difficult by today’s accident. Edwina sighed. The child was so completely convinced of the curse, it was no wonder she wanted nothing to do with her new governess. That moment of closeness on the way to the shore had been only that -a moment. Now Henrietta had closed herself off again, as unreachable as ever.

Edwina turned back toward the library, pulling the jacket closer around her. What could the earl want with her now? Surely there had been ample time to talk to her on the ride home. But perhaps this was something he didn’t want the children to hear.

Once more she hesitated outside the library door, again with a damp gown and straggling hair. She tugged at the gown, but nothing was going to make her more presentable. She pulled in a deep breath, though this time it was not because she feared the earl. This time it was because- Well, she could not exactly say. But she did know delay would serve no purpose, would only make matters worse. She squared her shoulders and advanced into the room. “Yes, milord?”

The earl looked even sadder than usual. He motioned her to one of the highbacked wing chairs that flanked the hearth and settled into the other. “This afternoon I told you that you should always have a place at Holmden Hill.”

Edwina nodded. Why was he bringing that up again? “Yes, milord, and I thank you for it.”

His lordship sighed. “I meant what I said, but I have given the matter considerable thought and I have come to a decision.’

She settled her damp skirt over her knees, pulled his jacket around her, and wished the fire burning a little brighter. Then she turned to face him. “A decision, milord?”

He nodded. “Yes, it came to me on the way home. I realized it was unfair of me to take advantage of your financial condition.” He raised a silencing hand when she tried to protest, his face going even more sorrowful. “It was very wrong of me. I hope you’ll excuse me. Forgive me. As I told you, I haven’t been myself since I lost Catherine.”