Adam's Promise (13 page)

Diana cleared her throat. “You farm this yourself? You must at least hire hands.”

“At harvest time, of course, but my sons and I can
manage most of the work ourselves throughout the year.” He winked at Charlie, who smiled proudly in response.

By the blank look on Diana's face, he sensed she was imagining him actually pushing a plow. She seemed to have a hard time swallowing.

Lord Blackthorne changed the subject, and Adam decided he would have to resolve this situation as soon as possible. He could not go on misleading Diana, nor could he continue keeping his true feelings for Madeline to himself. He would have to do the right thing, as swiftly and gently as he could, and do his best to spare any further heartache.

He had an uneasy feeling, however, that no matter how carefully he handled this situation, it was going to be bloody.

 

With Lord Blackthorne's presence in the house, it was necessary for Diana and Madeline to share Madeline's bedchamber, the one that should have been Diana's to begin with. As Madeline slipped into the cool sheets beside her sister, she felt as if
she
were the guest.

“Is it true,” Diana whispered to Madeline in the darkness, “that after you arrived, Adam sent instructions for a proxy marriage? Lord Blackthorne told me so on the ship, but of course I never received the proposal so I wouldn't know for sure.”

Madeline hugged the coverlet to her chest. “Yes, it's true.”

“Adam must have been terribly anxious to have me. It still seems like a dream. Oh, how disappointed
he must have been when it was
you
who arrived that day, and not me. Was he very angry? I'll wager he wanted to brain Father.”

“Yes, he was angry.” Madeline knew her sister wanted to hear all the details, but damned if she was going to give them to her. She simply couldn't, not without revealing how heartbroken she had been and continued to be.

“Oh, Madeline, I can still barely believe I am here in Adam's house. You cannot imagine how, over the years, I have dreamed of seeing him again.”

Madeline rolled onto her side to face her sister. “Was it difficult for you, being married to Sir Edward when you could not forget Adam?”

Diana nodded, and Madeline was suddenly curious about more of her sister's deeper feelings.

Madeline thought of Mary and Jacob and how they'd always told each other every thought and feeling, and consequently, Madeline decided that even though she was having a hard time with the situation now, she should try to think of the future and nurture a closer relationship with Diana. She was flesh and blood, after all, and wasn't it time Madeline reached out to forge a true bond with someone?

“Did you love Sir Edward at all?” she asked.

Diana blinked up at the ceiling. “He was my husband and I respected him, but it wasn't easy being his wife. I was young and naive when I married him and I had no idea how the world worked. I thought I was marrying into a fairy tale—becoming
Lady
Thurston—but to them, I would always be a tenant farmer's daughter. Edward only married me to badger
his mother. He already had his heirs from his first
proper
wife. I was just a pretty reward.”

“But he seemed so in love with you.”

“It was lust, Madeline, not love. Part of the curse of being beautiful, I suppose.” She rolled over to face Madeline, and stroked her curly hair. “You're lucky. When a man falls in love with you, he will love you for what you are on the inside, not what you look like on the outside.”

Despite what Madeline felt was a backhanded compliment, she smiled consolingly at Diana in the dim, flickering candlelight. “Adam truly loves you, Diana. You can be certain of it. If it had been lust, he would not have carried a torch for you all these years—a torch that still burns as brightly as the day it first sparked into flame.”

Diana sighed. “That's what I try and tell myself. It's what kept me going when the reality of my marriage sank in. I had to believe that somewhere out there, Adam loved me. Even when he married Jane, I clung to that hope.”

Madeline confided in her sister. “I read one of your letters to him. He kept them, Diana. All of them.”

“He did?” Diana's voice beamed with surprise and happiness. “He never answered them. I feared he had crumpled each one.”

“No, he still has them and he treasures them.”

Diana rolled onto her back. “I am so happy, Madeline, to be reunited with him at last. It's inconceivably romantic, as if we were meant to be together. That it's our destiny and God is making it happen. Will you stand with me on my wedding day?”

Madeline swallowed over the painful lump in her throat. “I will be honored.” Then she yawned and rolled over onto her side, facing the wall. She tried to keep her voice from trembling as she closed her eyes and said wearily, “Good night, Diana.”

F
or the next two days, Adam escorted Lord Blackthorne all over the marshlands, explaining the workings of the dykes and the
aboiteaux.
When the lieutenant-governor realized that entire hay crops would be lost and the land would become inoperable if the dykes were not maintained, he became more open to the idea of establishing stronger requirements for the farmers, as well as attaining some funding for yearly maintenance.

Feeling pleased with the results of the visit, Adam and the rest of his family said goodbye to Lord Blackthorne and his servants, and waved to the convoy of carriages as it rolled with a flourish out of the yard.

Adam took a breath. Instantly everything seemed quiet. He turned to see Diana and Madeline standing arm in arm, smiling and waving one last goodbye.

“Congratulations, Adam,” Madeline said. “You've done it.”

He would have liked to hug her then, to twirl her around and celebrate, but Diana was smiling at him and he could not.

“Congratulations for what?” Diana asked, and Adam realized he had not explained his concerns about the marsh to her, nor had she asked why he and the lieutenant-governor had gone riding every day. Had she thought it was merely a social visit?

When he didn't answer right away, Madeline answered for him. “Adam has just secured Lord Blackthorne's support to fund the maintenance of the dykes and protect the marsh.”

“Protect it from what?”

“From flooding.”

“Flooding? Heavens.” The information barely had a chance to reach her ears, when she turned toward Agnes. “Mrs. Dalton, what time is lunch being served?”

“One o'clock, my lady.”

Without another word about the marsh, Diana turned to go into the house. “Well, I best go and dress, then. It will be our first meal alone as a family, and I want it to be special. Will you summon my maid please, Mrs. Dalton?”

Adam watched her, feeling dumbfounded, trying to remember what he had expected when he'd sent his proposal to her originally. He'd thought he'd known Diana, but he hadn't. He only knew a fantasy of her, what he
wanted
her to be.

A moment later, everyone was gone, and Adam was left alone in the yard. A longing flared through him, and he could not keep it buried any longer. The time had come. He would break off his engagement to Diana today.

 

After lunch, Madeline heard the tapping of hoofbeats up the driveway, and knew Adam had returned from his inspection of the fields. She sat up straighter on the bench, forcing herself to ignore him—she would not turn around to look—and fight the clattering, painful awareness inside her heart.

She smiled warmly at John Metcalf, who had come this windy afternoon to tell her about the farm he had just leased. “What are your plans, John? Will you raise beef?”

“I reckon so. I still have some work to do on the barn, though, before I can purchase any stock. There's a hole in the roof the size of a wagon wheel.”

“Oh my!” Still trying to ignore the urge to turn and look at Adam, Madeline laughed with John, who began to fidget nervously on the bench. He cleared his throat a few times before speaking.

“The other reason I came, Miss Oxley, is to ask you to accompany me to the summer dance at the Aikens' place. I hear they clear out their barn for a real romp.”

Madeline felt her face color. No one had ever asked her to a dance before. She took a moment to consider his invitation, then she pictured Adam escorting Diana and dancing all night long with her.

A quick decision immediately followed, but she was uncomfortable with it. “Yes, John, I would be happy to go with you. When is it?”

“Next Saturday night. I can come by to pick you up at seven.” He nearly spilled his tea as he took another sip.

Just then, Madeline heard Adam's footsteps over
the hard ground and sensed his approach. He stopped behind them. This time, she allowed herself to turn on the bench and smile casually. “Good morning, Adam.”

“Good morning, Madeline. Metcalf, how are you?”

“I'm fine, sir. I came to tell Madeline that I found land to lease. It's nearby—not more than a stone's throw, down in the lowlands just past the Chapman place.”

Adam unbuttoned his coat. “Congratulations. You must be pleased about that.”

“I am, sir.” John gazed at Madeline and smiled. “I'm
very
pleased.”

Madeline felt her whole body tense at John's blatant show of affection for her. It was the first time anyone had ever looked at her like that. It was just like the way Jacob looked at Mary.

Her insides tugged unpleasantly in response.

Perhaps that tugging sensation would become pleasant later on.

Or perhaps not.

What would she do if it did? Or didn't?

She glanced up at Adam, who was still staring icily at John, who was staring starry-eyed at her. Good Lord, she couldn't believe she was having this philosophical debate with herself in front of Adam.

The wind caught the ribbon in Adam's queue and lifted it. She stared blankly at it for a moment, feeling dazed at the sight of his strong jaw and dark eyes, his broad shoulders beneath his coat, and the way he held
himself—tall, confident, mature. He was so much more of a man than John was.

But he was not the one who was courting her.

At that instant, she knew with conviction that she
must
make an effort not only to appreciate John Metcalf for all his good qualities, but to encourage him, too. She had to forget about Adam and move on with her life. She couldn't go on pining for her sister's future husband.

She pasted on a smile for John and forced a polite reply past her lips. “I'm pleased, too.”

“Well, good,” Adam said, his voice deep and booming. “Everyone's pleased. If you'll excuse me now, I have some business to attend to.” He started toward the door, but hesitated and turned back. “Madeline, perhaps we could talk this evening. About something rather…important.”

With that final word, he left, taking long strides toward the house. Madeline watched after him, wondering what he wanted to talk about.

“Is there something wrong, Madeline?”

She jumped at the sound of John's voice, pulling her back to the here and now.

“You look melancholy,” he said.

Madeline pulled her teacup to her lips. “Melancholy?” She struggled for an excuse to give him, to give herself. “I suppose it is this ominous weather.” She glanced up at the dark, brooding clouds, blustering across the sky. “I daresay, it looks like we're going to get rain.”

No amount of rain, however, could compare to the tempest inside her heart.

 

Adam stormed into the house, his frustration reaching a new peak. He detested the idea of John Metcalf courting Madeline, yet he had no one to blame but himself, for he had been stalling these past few days. He was not looking forward to confronting Diana, breaking her heart and sending her home, but if he didn't do it now, he would risk losing Madeline forever.

Adam pulled off his coat and carried it to his den. He walked in and closed the door behind him, but froze there on the spot. Sitting at his desk, reading his correspondence, was Diana.

Startled, she turned in her chair, or rather,
his
chair. “Adam, I thought you were out riding.”

He worked hard to keep his voice steady and controlled. “I was.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, then she set down the letter in her hand and stood. “I was just…I was just reading these…” She gestured toward the pile of letters on his desk.
Her
letters. “I had forgotten all the things I wrote to you. I'm so glad you kept them.”

He took an anxious step forward. “Diana—”

“I remember now, how miserable I was that first year of my marriage and how desperately I'd wanted you back. You were everything to me, Adam, and I was foolish to let you go. This brings it all back, makes it seem like it happened only yesterday.”

“It wasn't yesterday, Diana, it was a long time ago.”

“Yes, thank goodness, otherwise I would still be buried in loneliness back there.”

God, this was wretched.

He gazed at the window and saw Madeline outside still talking to Metcalf. The young man was standing by the bench, and she was gazing up at him, her hand on top of her straw hat to keep it from flying off on a gale.

Adam's insides careened at the sight of her talking to John—or any man who tried to court her, for that matter.

There was no way in hell Adam could take another minute of this. He turned back to Diana, who was now walking toward him, her smile warm and inviting.

Adam breathed deeply. “Diana, we must talk.”

A
dam carried his coat across the room and draped it over the back of the wing chair in front of the fireplace. He stood behind it, summoning the right words while Diana moved toward him, tilting her head the way she always did when she was unsure of something.

He gestured toward the other wing chair. “Diana, please sit down.” He took a seat across from her.

There were times he wished he was not a compassionate man, that he could act according to necessity and not be affected by it. He had been compassionate for his irrational wife when she'd collapsed in tears or flown into a rage, and he was compassionate now for Diana, knowing he was about to break her heart.

It had always been his weakness—another person's suffering—and he knew it. He also knew he had to work hard to stand strong and do what must be done, no matter how painful it was.

She perched on the edge of the chair, her back stiff and straight, her hands clasped together tightly on her lap, and he detected her wariness.

Perhaps she had sensed the lack of feeling in him since she'd arrived, compared to the days long ago when he'd loved and worshiped her in Yorkshire. Since she'd stepped off the ship here in Cumberland, she'd confessed her happiness to him numerous times, and not once had he responded in kind.

“What is it, Adam?”

God, this was difficult. “I'm afraid we need to talk about the situation here….”

The situation here?
Hell, he could do better than that.

“What do you mean?” She reached across to take his hand in hers. “You look so serious. You're scaring me.”

He squeezed her hand in return and paused a moment before speaking, then disciplined himself into a steely resolve. “This is difficult to say, Diana, but surely you must recognize that we are not the same people we once were, that there has been a lifetime of experiences between us, and a great deal has changed.”

She smiled charmingly. “Well, of course things have changed, and I'm glad. You are a landowner now, Adam. A wealthy one. You have accomplished tremendous things, when before, we were both young and knew nothing of the world.”

“It's more than that, my dear. I may have wealth, but I am not an aristocrat and I will never be one. In my heart, I am still just a simple farmer. You, on the other hand, are every inch a proper lady and, in your heart, I think you always were.”

She laughed. “I don't understand, Adam.”

He shook his head. “I'm not saying this well at all. It…it has nothing to do with rank or class or wealth. It has more to do with—” he touched a fist to his chest “—with our hearts.”

“But my heart has always belonged to you. Even while I was married.” There was a pleading note to her voice all of a sudden. It tied his gut into a knot.

“Has it really? Or has it belonged to a dream of me?”

“I still don't understand what you are trying to say.”

Adam leaned back in his chair, searching for the grit to see this through. “We don't know each other, Diana, and I'm not certain we ever did. Something gave you reason not to marry me years ago, and whatever that reason was, it still exists. We are different people. Your feelings for me have merely been a way of escaping whatever was missing in your own marriage, just as my feelings for you were an escape when times were difficult. We both wanted to return to the past when we were innocent and happy and knew nothing of the kind of pain or loneliness life can bring, but we can't go back to that innocence. All we can do is learn from the past and move forward.”

Her jaw clenched visibly and her tone deepened. “What is your point, Adam?”

He suspected she already knew, but he had to say it anyway. “My point is—I don't think we should marry.”

Her chin rose as she gathered her dignity around her. “I beg your pardon?”

He forced himself to say it again, as if it weren't
hard enough the first time. “I believe it would be a mistake for us to marry.”

The pleading tone returned to her voice. “But…maybe it's…maybe we just need time alone together. We need to start again. How can we enjoy each other in a house full of children? Maybe we should think about sending the younger ones away to school. Then we could go back to what it was like when we—”

Adam felt sick. “I do not wish to send my children away.”

She confronted his resolute answer with a look of anger. “This makes no sense. Surely you are not put off me because I have
risen
in life. If anything, you should be honored and grateful that I have come all this way to marry you. I am
Lady
Thurston!”

Pausing to allow her time to let the shock settle in, Adam leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

“You are a beautiful, charming woman, Diana, and I have had difficulty myself letting go of the dream of you. But that's all it was—a dream. In reality, we are not compatible. You are in love with the man you want me to be, not the man that I am. I couldn't possibly hire other people to do my work for me. I
like
my work. I want to plow my own fields and stick my hands in the dirt at harvest time, and I doubt you would enjoy welcoming me home after I've just slaughtered a hog.”

A delicate finger came up to rest under her nose. “Good gracious, Adam, there's no need to be cruel, saying such things to me.”

Adam wondered with a sigh which part she considered more cruel: his breaking off their engagement, or his mentioning the hog slaughter.

“You see, Diana, we are not right for each other. You would be much happier with a different kind of man.”

She continued to hold her head high. “You sounded like Madeline just now, talking about sticking your hands in the dirt. What is it about dirt that people always like to torture me with it?”

Baffled by her comment—baffled by everything about her—he patted her hand. “I am deeply sorry for bringing you all this way for nothing.”

“You are sorry? Sorry!” She snatched her hand out of his grasp and stood. “I spent six weeks on a stench-filled boat with a bunch of laborers! Now, you have the nerve to tell me that
I
am the one who is living in a fantasy!
You
were the one to send the proposal!
You
were the one who started all of this! You've barely spoken two words to me since I've arrived, yet you presume to think you know enough about me to conclude that we are not right for each other. Is it because I am older? Am I not as beautiful as you remembered? Is it my hair? Have you noticed the gray?”

Adam stood. “No, Diana, you are as beautiful as ever.”

“Then what, may I ask, has changed since you wrote to Father to ask for my hand in marriage?” Her voice was harsh and demanding.

Not entirely sure how much he should say, or how
truthful he should be, he replied simply, “
I
have changed.”

The features of her face hardened; her voice faded to a hush. “How? And why?”

Adam moved to stand in the center of the room. “It grieves me to say this, Diana, but I have changed because I've met someone who…someone who sees the world the way I do. I have learned to appreciate what is here before me in the present, to let go of the past and all the pain that went with it. I have met someone who is, I believe, my true mate.”

That last comment shook her physically. “There's someone else?”

“Yes.”

“Who? Who has cheated me out of my place in your heart, and stolen you away when I have waited so long?”

“I can not tell you who.”

“Why? Are you afraid I will go to her and tell her what a faithless, fickle man you are? That you could propose to a woman one week, and forget her the next?”

“It wasn't as simple as that. I was not cavalier about this.”

“Then what was it? How could you sweep me from your heart so expeditiously, after wanting me all your life? Madeline assured me it was so—that you still cared for me.”

The mention of Madeline in this conversation unnerved him but, for the moment, he concealed it. “I do still care for you, Diana. I always will, but we are not meant to be husband and wife.”

“But the letters…you kept them.”

He struggled to keep his composure. “I never meant for you to see those.”

“But they were here on your desk, for all the world to see!”

Adam tried to keep his anger in check. “They were locked in a box.”

Diana realized her gaffe but brushed it off and pointed a long finger. “The key was sitting out, right there.”

He gazed at it on the desk. “A key on a desk is not an open invitation to go through a man's personal belongings!”

“They were
my
letters!”

Good God, why were they arguing about this? Adam pinched the bridge of his nose to try and thwart the headache that was beginning to throb. “You may have them back if you wish.”

She glared hotly at him. “Indeed. You're through with them, are you?”

He said nothing. He merely met her gaze, hoping she would see how truly sorry he was.

She marched angrily over to the desk and picked up the box of letters. “I believe I will take them, thank you. And
you,
Adam Coates, can burn in hell.”

With that, she walked out of his study. Adam followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, where she threw the box of letters onto the fire. Sparks snapped and crackled and flew into the air, and Diana slapped her hands together as if to brush off the grimy memories.

Alone in the kitchen, they stood face-to-face, star
ing at each other. Adam didn't know what to say. If she had wanted to slap him, he would have let her, for she deserved some kind of satisfaction for what he'd put her through.

If he could have changed the way things had occurred to have avoided this altogether, he certainly would have. If only he could have seen into the future. He would have sent for Madeline's hand in marriage in the first place.

Life, however, was never as easy as that. He had to face the difficult truth that he had caused Diana great pain and inconvenience, and had also displaced her from her home.

“The least you can do is tell me who she is and where you met her,” Diana said.

Adam stiffened. He could not tell Diana that it was her sister he loved, when Madeline herself didn't even know. “I would rather not.”

“I deserve to know the truth, Adam. I
want
to know.”

He would not waver. He shook his head at her.

“Have you already proposed to her?”

“No.”

“Does she know about me?”

“Yes.” God, he wanted this to be over.

For a long time she stood there, glaring at him, and when he offered her no further information, she pushed past him toward the stairs. “I'm leaving on the next ship. And I'm taking Madeline with me.”

Before he had a chance to realize what he was doing, he was reaching for Diana's arm as she passed. With a quick, tight grip, he stopped her. “Madeline
stays here.” Diana's startled expression shook his resolve. “At least until I have a chance to talk to her myself.”

Diana yanked her arm out of his grasp. Her chest rose and fell with deep, furious breaths. Then her face changed; her voice was like an echo. “It's Madeline, isn't it?”

He met her challenging glare but said nothing, for what could he say when his world was crumbling all around him?

“You've fallen in love with my sister! How could you! How could
she!
She assured me you still cared for me. She pretended to be my loyal sister, when she was betraying me all along!”

“No, she is innocent in this.”

“Innocent! An innocent girl does not steal her older sister's…” Diana's outburst halted on her lips. She appeared to be putting all the pieces together on her own, without his help. “She doesn't know….”

He swallowed uncomfortably. “No, and you can't tell her. I need to tell her myself.”

“I'll tell her whatever I want! And don't think for one minute that I will sing your praises.”

She gathered her skirts and walked quickly to the stairs. Adam went after her. “If you have a kind bone in your body, Diana, you will leave this to me. I love Madeline and I'm going to ask her to be my wife. Don't take this chance for happiness away from her.”

Diana continued to scurry up the stairs. “I won't let her marry you. Not after what you've done to me.”

“It is not your decision to make. She is a grown woman.”

Diana stopped on the landing. “She is my obstinate little sister! She has always been jealous of me, and she probably seduced you just to get back at me for being prettier and smarter and for always getting what I want! No one has
ever
chosen her over me!”

Feeling weak and stunned by Diana's brutal, egotistic honesty, he stood on the staircase looking up at her, squeezing the railing in his fist. It seemed almost impossible that he could have loved her once.

She whirled around with a swish of silks and petticoats and floated the rest of the way up the stairs. A few seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut.

Adam quickly summoned his thoughts into action. He had to find Madeline before Diana spoke to her. He had to tell Madeline he loved her and explain what had happened with Diana.

He went out to the front porch, but she and Metcalf weren't there.

Returning inside, he took two steps at a time up the stairs and went from room to room, searching, but the house was quiet and still, all except for Diana's maid, Hilary, who was stitching a hem in the hall by the window. “Have you seen Miss Oxley?” he asked her.

She shook her head.

Penelope had gone to Mary and Jacob's house to help them prepare to move in, and the boys were out in the fields. Where was Madeline? He listened at Diana's door but heard nothing and knew Madeline
was not in there with her. If she had been, there would be screaming and tears.