The Hourglass (38 page)

Marie said it was God’s will, and practical Miss Hadley said something was most likely wrong with the babe, that it could not have lived anyway.

Mrs. Newberry was the most comfort. She had lost three babies herself, so she could share Genie’s grief. One infant was stillborn, one was miscarried like Lady Ardeth’s, and one died of whooping cough within a month. That one was the worst, the vicar’s widow said, because she got to hold the babe and suckle him. A mother never forgot any of them, but the world did not end. Mrs. Newberry had had a husband and other children to care for, a whole parish depending on her to visit the ill and the aged. She could not build a cocoon of sorrow to hide in.

If she was chiding Genie for indulging herself, Mrs. Newberry did not come out and say so. According to her, everyone faced such a loss in his or her own way. A body had to stop mourning at one’s own pace, but life was for living.

Genie thought Cousin Spotford was helping the vicar’s widow get over her loss a bit sooner than she might have, but Mrs. Newberry’s words made sense. Besides, Genie was bored, lying abed day and night.

So she got dressed in her prettiest dark gowns and had her hair cut in a new fashionably short style, befitting a new life. She took meals with the family and guests, and she drove around the property with Cousin Spotford. She called on the neighbors, attended church, and established an at-home day for company. This was where she lived now. It was time to put down roots.

Everyone was kind and made her welcome. No one mentioned her loss or her husband’s absence. She had enough funds to make donations in his name, and enough authority to make decisions, too. She approved the site for the new school and was working with the architect, the retired teacher, and the village council to find the best design for the most children. She worked to overcome all of the gentlemen’s prejudice against educating the girls as well as the boys. Yes, they would be taught sewing, but females needed to learn their letters and numbers as well as the boys. A woman could not, must not, always depend on a man. Genie was proof of that.

James Vinross arrived from London with instructions, signed bank drafts, and orders for everyone to defer to Genie’s opinions in all things.

So Ardeth did trust her, despite the terrible things she had said to him. That was something, anyway.

Oh, how she missed him, and how she still loved him. Which went to prove that the poets were right: Love was a madness, without rhyme or reason. It just was, like Ardeth himself. Inexplicable, infinitely worth the pain.

She worried about him, too, alone with Fernell Spotford. The Newberry sisters assured her the young gentleman was everything pleasing. Genie was not pleased. James said the earl took Olive everywhere with him. Genie was not satisfied. They were tracing Snell’s steps, James told her, and discovering that the valet did have ample opportunity to get to London without Fernell’s knowledge, so perhaps that whole trouble was behind them. James also reported that his lordship was locating other “lottery winners,” so Genie could expect more houseguests needing cottages, work, or comfort.

James did not ask why the earl stayed away now that the mystery seemed solved, but he and Miss Hadley had their heads together, so he must know. Everyone knew Lady Ardeth had thrown her husband out of his own castle.

He would not come back unless she asked, she knew, not out of pride, but out of respect for her wishes. How many days before that departure he’d warned her about? What if she never saw him again, never got the chance to say what needed to be said? She could not live the rest of her life wondering if she might have changed things, if she might have stopped him from leaving. Even if he did eventually go, she could have the remaining weeks with the man she loved. Wasn’t that better than nothing?

So she sat down and wrote him a letter. She apologized for the dreadful things she had said. They were not true. He was an admirable man, she wrote, but only a man. She ought not have demanded he perform magic or miracles, then grown angry when he could not. She did not blame him for her loss. How could she, when he had given her so much?

He did not want her gratitude. She ripped up the letter.

She wrote about the plans for the school, the new furnishings for the parlor, the progress of the various courtships at the Keep: James Vinross and Miss Hadley, Cousin Spotford and Mrs. Newberry, the middle Newberry girl and Cousin Richard, Marie and Campbell, Marie and the underbutler, Marie and the architect. Lud, he’d think she was running a matchmaking service! What man wanted to get involved in that? More shreds of paper hit the floor.

She wondered if he was interested in establishing a horse-breeding operation. Campbell would be in heaven, and perhaps Fernell could learn to manage it, which would please the eldest Newberry daughter. Bah, that sounded like she was putting forth a business proposition.

He had to be interested in Miss Frieda Spotford and the woman he had hired, so she wrote a page about that, how the older woman was getting out more, although she ignored Genie entirely. No, he might agree she was ignorable.

Eight torn pages later, Genie gave up. She scrawled two lines, sealed the note, and put it in a
messenger’s hands for the quickest possible delivery.
Dear Coryn
, she’d written,
I love you. Please come home
.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ardeth must have retained some extraordinary skills after all, for no mere man could get from London to Ardsley in so short a time. He left Fernell in the dust on the first day. He would have lost Olive on the second, except for tucking the bird inside his greatcoat. He changed horses at every chance, paying for the best mounts even if he had to buy them. He slept only when it was too dark to ride on without becoming lost or injuring the horse. He ate when some innkeeper thrust a wedge of cheese in his hand, or a street vendor held up a meat pasty. He drank when he remembered to fill the water bottle in his saddlebag.

Genie loved him. Nothing else mattered. That’s what he’d learned, what he had to tell her, so he rode on, and on.

She was waiting for him in the carriage drive. He did not question how she’d known he’d arrive three days before he should or how he’d known she would be there,
her arms open to him. She loved him; that was enough. He jumped off his horse and ran the rest of the way, lifting her off her feet and holding her against him—Olive jumped out of his pocket in time—kissing her cheek, her hair, then her sweet, soft lips when she raised her face to his. So what if half the servants were watching from the front door, the gardens, and the windows? Genie loved him, and nothing else mattered.

Well, perhaps the visiting bishop mattered. The elderly man cleared his throat, loudly.

“I love you,” Ardeth whispered before reluctantly setting Genie on her feet, a short but respectable distance away.

Her cheeks flaming scarlet, Genie curtsied and said, “Welcome home, my lord. We missed you.”

“As I missed you,” he answered for the bishop’s sake, without trying to liken his missing her to an eclipse of the sun. “Are you well, my lady?”

“Quite, thank you.”

Then they had to go inside. Ardeth needed a bath and a change of clothes. Genie needed to get her feet on the ground. He loved her!

In honor of the bishop’s visit, a lavish dinner was planned for the noonday meal. They were celebrating the donation of a new roof for the local church. Genie was celebrating her husband’s return.

Ardeth was wishing them all to the devil, even as he chatted politely with those nearest him. Who the deuce invited so many people to sit between him and his wife down the long table? He barely recognized half of them, but supposed they were the latest London rescuees. He should have sent them all to one of his other properties. In Constantinople.

At last it was time for the ladies to withdraw. The host could not, blast it. Ardeth sat through toasts, boasts, and belches as long as he could, then hurried the bishop on his way, saying he feared a coming thunderstorm. He told the others he would be at their service to discuss the school, the farms, the horses, tomorrow. The ladies had been alone too long, one in particular.

“Would you care to take a walk, my dear?” he asked Genie when he reached the drawing room.

“What about the thunderstorm?” she asked, then said, “Oh.” The sky was now cloudless, a bright autumn afternoon. “Yes, thank you. I would like that.”

He made arrangements, sending servants scurrying, while she went upstairs to fetch a shawl. Then she took his hand, trusting him to find somewhere private where they could talk. And kiss.

He led her around the back of the castle, near Miss Spotford’s tower, and through the walled garden there, where Spotford and his sister were playing at cards. The new companion was visiting her niece on her half day off, Genie explained. Spotford smiled and waved them on, bringing more blushes to Genie’s cheeks at his knowing look.

At the garden’s outer gate, Ardeth headed toward the ruins of the original fortress, his Keep.

“Is it safe?” Genie asked. She had not ventured here, not after hearing of Miss Spotford’s mishap.

“Where we are going is. I spent time here before I left for London, making sure.”

“You played your flute there.’’

“I felt closer to the land here, closer to the heavens, when I asked for forgiveness.”

“You had nothing to atone for,” Genie said, apologizing
again for her tirade. “You are only a man, and I asked you to be a god.”

“No, I am a monster beyond your imagination, with sins enough before I ever met you. I wanted so badly to be a man, I would do anything. I thought if I tried to be better than most, living with honor, doing good deeds, that would be enough to make me complete. I was wrong. Nothing could make me feel whole except your love. I realize that now, my dearest. And I am sorry for not telling you so. I did not know how. I did not know what love was, until you showed me. Being without you was like being without…”

“Your own heart? I know. I felt it, too. I was living in shadow, until you brought back the light.”

He held her arm as they climbed a few low fallen stones into the center of what had been his great hall, away from the crumbled walls. Grass was growing there, and a few late wildflowers. The servants had brought pillows and blankets and wine at his direction. They also brought his flute, knowing of his past habit of playing in the ruins.

“Will you play for me?” Genie asked. “A happy tune this time?”

“Later. First I would play a different composition, a different instrument. We can create the music of life together, if you are willing.”

She was already arranging the pillows. “No one can see?”

“Olive will warn us. And he will keep his back turned if he knows what is good for him,” he said in a much louder tone of voice.

After he helped Genie spread a blanket over the bed of pillows, he brought her a glass of wine. “Oh, before I forget, I must warn you that you will need a new companion. James asked permission to pay his addresses to your Miss Hadley. I know they are both of age, but I said I would consult with you. James is going to stand for the House of Commons from this borough. That way he will be able to continue the work I have begun with the reforms. I thought we could give them the Willeford house for their wedding present.”

She quickly agreed, happy for her friends. “But what will you do for a secretary?”

“Cousin Fernell is going to take over as my assistant in London, now that he is sober. The Randolphs will keep an eye on him at the London town house.”

“Fernell?”

Ardeth shrugged. “He has a knack for locating the lottery winners.”

“But there is no lottery.”

“There is now. So you shan’t mind parting with Miss Hadley?”

Genie set down her glass. “You are the only companion I will ever need.”

“Ah, Genie, your sweetness touches me to the core.”

She touched him elsewhere, too, stopping his conversation, almost stopping his breathing. She did not care if he hired Attila the Hun as his henchman, not now. They kissed, a homecoming and a promise. They kissed, with their tongues and their sighs and their caresses.

In minutes they were on the blanket on the ground, on his ground, with his black cape like a blanket over them. He stroked her lips, her eyes, her hair, trying not to hurry, trying to memorize every detail of his beautiful bride. He let her new curls slide through his fingers, watching the sunlight catch the fire in the red and gold.

“I cut it.”

“I see. Now you look like a naughty cherub, my own angel.”

She showed him she was no angel, with impatient hands untying the knot in his neckcloth. “Will you mind,” she asked, wriggling out of her gown and stays as he unfastened them, “that your bride is no virgin?”

He kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head. “What would I want with a virgin? Bridal nerves, shyness, and pain?” Which reminded him: “You are fully recovered?”

“It has been a month.” Genie tugged at his sleeves, showing her eagerness.

When his shirt was off, Ardeth raised a ribbon from around his neck, dangling the ruby ring. “Will you wear this now?”

She let him put it on her hand while he recited, “With this ring, I do thee wed.”

“You may now kiss the bride,” she said with a smile.