Chelynne (22 page)

“What is the danger?”

“Primarily the Indians. They run naked through the wood, quiet as air. It is said there are as many different tribes as there are trees in the forest. And their customs vary as well. Some pray to the sun and eat only grass and leaves while there are others who cut the flesh off a man before he’s even dead and have him for dinner.”

The excitement mounted and rose in his voice until he stopped to see Chelynne leaning back in her chair, swallowing hard and taking on a rather odd pallor. “Madam,” he laughed. “Methinks England more your style.”

“I’m a coward,” she confessed. “But it sounds grand.”

“They haven’t the advantages we have with sale and barter. There are many things that must be brought from England and the wait is a long one. They live in some mighty meager shelters while their homes are being built. But once you’ve known the thrill of seeing something made with your own wit and devices it’s hard to think of living any other way. Why, any man—”

He stopped as he noticed a faint smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. He looked at her empty dish and his nearly full plate. She had listened attentively, genuinely interested in every word. But he had been led into a conversation on a topic he had been pleased to discuss. The mood had been passable if not unpleasant and she had changed it without his even realizing it until now.

“I think I would love it there,” she said thoughtfully. “So fresh and new. I think it would be better to start your own traditions, rather than to live your life for ancestors dead a thousand years.”

“Oh, they’ve a fondness for their heritage, perhaps more so than we, but they’re far enough removed from it all to give them some peace. Here we’re constantly bound to it, afflicted with it. The court, the state...”

“But you’re so often at business, so determined...I would have thought you loved that part of it.”

“Love it? Hardly. I’d leave it in an instant, but I cannot. There is no other in the family to take the earldom and if I did not, it could fall to some meager-witted bumpkin or a devil the likes of Shayburn. No, I don’t love it, but it must be preserved. For the Hawthornes and for England.”

She watched him adoringly as he talked. It was the first time he had really talked to her. And it did not stop. He told her about his plantation, about his land and ships, about the overseer who was managing things for him and about all the servants he had left there. Then came the ports he had visited and the battles fought. He was candid about his feelings toward the court, disliking intensely the inane games they called diversion. He could be coerced into throwing the dice now and then, but he found little pleasure in going to the theater every day and drinking himself into oblivion. For him there was more contentment in business dealings and men’s games that involved skill and vigor, such as hunting and yachting.

She was seeing here a depth of character she wondered if he would ever let her probe, touch. And his strength and confidence could be the pillar she could lean on if they ever reached a point where they could share and build together. But everything he had acquired now was being maintained. His habits and way of life were set. There was only the possibility that she could slip into his world, fit into his pattern; but he could never fit hers.

When she smothered yet another yawn at the end of a long and happy evening, he suggested it was time she prepare for bed. She hated to see it end, but called Tanya and Stella to prepare her anyway. It was not unusual to have him stay while she made ready, but when he lingered long after she had slipped into bed it struck her as odd. When he started to remove his coat as if he would slide in beside her she almost gasped with astonishment. As if remembering something, he halted himself, blew out the candles, and continued undressing.

He chuckled lightly, almost apologetically, as he climbed into bed. “That loose-lipped servant who reports my every move to Gwen will inform her that I slept the night with my wife.”

“What servant is this?” she asked, sitting up in surprise.

“Would that I knew,” he muttered, settling himself deeper in the bed. “The fact is that whoever, the story is startlingly accurate. I prefer my private life to be my own and not the issue of some wagging tongue.”

Chad seemed at ease in the same bed with her. His breathing, smooth and even, indicated that he found sleep easily. For Chelynne it was not so simple. His totally, alarmingly naked state brought a combination of excitement and unease. She was a long time in falling asleep.

Sometime deep in the night a slow smile grew on Chad’s lips. He felt Anne as she pressed close to him. His soul was flooded with contentment, peace. He pulled her nearer, covered her sweet body with kisses, whispered love words and gently titillated her with caresses. His brow beaded with sweat as he noticed a deep and gaping hole somewhere behind them. It beckoned her, called her name. He held her to him, trying to love her, but she was being pulled away. He pleaded with her, told her how much he needed her, how he loved her beyond his own life, how their son needed her. But she shook her head sadly and withdrew slowly from him. He clutched at her frantically but his usually strong hands were limp and lifeless. He urged his whole body,
hold her,
he commanded himself, but he was useless. She moved into the open ground and the dirt slammed together over her like a door, sealing her off from him.

A scream formed in his subconscious and his eyes popped open. The canopy of the bed was above him, the breeze billowing out the draperies in the large bedchamber. Only a dream, a foolish dream, but the body of his wife was too real. His eyes moved to Chelynne, sighing in her slumber and moving trustingly close to share the warmth of his body. His hands were on her hips, drawing her near, and her soft limbs were thrown casually over his. His first reaction was to throw her away from him, so bitter was his resentment that she would even dare occupy this place beside him, this place that rightfully belonged to Anne.

But he was aware of the security of her sleep, the innocence of her presence in this bed, and he moaned softly as he drew her near to warm her. A slow unconscious tear traced its way down his cheek and dropped unheeded onto her hair. The ache in his heart slowly and haltingly gave way to slumber.

Three days after her arrival, Chelynne was informed that Lady Graystone was preparing to leave. Chelynne had avoided contact with her. While she wondered painfully if Chad was seeing Gwen, she never asked. For herself, she had some pride and would not stand witness to the woman’s seduction of her husband. She had no hope of changing either of them or preventing them from doing what they would, but she would not encourage the affair by being complacent about it. She was angry and hurt and did nothing to hide it.

But there was a social responsibility bred into Chelynne that would not cease nagging her conscience, and she finally made her way to the landing when the coach was ready to take Gwen away. Gwen flounced down the stairs, making her way quickly to the door, but stopped short when she saw Chelynne. Her green eyes sparkled with hatred as she looked over the young bride Chad had claimed.

“Have a safe journey, my lady,” Chelynne said softly.

“My thanks for your warm hospitality,” Gwen bit out icily.

“I’m sorry it couldn’t have been more pleasant for all of us, my lady,” Chelynne replied with calm dignity. “If you would pay us a visit again perhaps we can share our common interests.”

Gwen laughed. “It seems to me we have only one common interest, my dear. I strongly doubt the day will ever come when we can share that.”

Chelynne lowered her eyes. She refused to give in to anger in front of this woman and could think of no polite response to this brazen statement.

“You’re young, Chelynne,” Gwen was saying. “You’ve a great deal to learn of this world. Whitehall will surely be your doom if you react to every innocent indiscretion with such candor.”

Chelynne looked into Gwen’s twinkling eyes with disbelieving ones of her own. She had never expected this much frankness.

“I’ll give you some advice, Chelynne, though I shouldn’t. It would be much more fun to watch them eat you alive at Whitehall. But since you’re Chad’s and he seems to have a penchant for protecting you, I’ll give him aid. The way of a wife now is to accept a man’s habits graciously, without fuss. Even the queen manages herself thus. She befriends and acknowledges His Majesty’s mistresses with ease, never attempting to manage the king’s affairs to suit herself. Chad has been about a long time. He’ll do as he pleases with or without your approval. To create hostilities where there is no cause will be your ruin. If you don’t accept him as he is you’ll lose him.” Gwen’s teeth flashed in a bright, wicked smile. “I think you’ve probably begun to lose him already.”

Chelynne’s eyes took on a dullness as she studied the woman before her. Gwen couldn’t read the expression. Was it pity? “If what you say is true, my lady, I won’t begin to lose him.” She shook her head lightly and then went on very softly. “But he may begin to lose me.”

When Gwen was gone the days were as before. Chad was seldom about and Chelynne used her time in riding and in visiting the earl. The old man was deteriorating. There was no hope that he would go to London unless some miracle quickly restored his health.

Every afternoon Chelynne brought a book from the library to his bedside. She didn’t know when she went to him this day that it would be the last time she would visit with him.

“When the smell of death is so strong as to drive any other away, still you come to me, Chelynne. You’re an angel. I’m grateful.”

“No angel,” she laughed. “You fill my days, too.”

“There are some things I cannot take to the ground with me, Chelynne. Tell me truly, have I failed? Has he not yet reconciled himself to the marriage?”

“He is very good to me, my lord.”

“Of course he is good to you. He is tolerant and fair. Is he in love with you?”

She looked down into her lap and folded her hands over the closed book. “In his own way,” she murmured. “Yes, in his own way I think maybe he loves me. He is kind.”

“But there is no child...”

“Not yet, but there is time, my lord.”

“Time is a tender thing, Chelynne. Time can be a healer in some ways and in other ways it is a curse...a tomb.”

Chelynne looked at the old man and saw energy in his eyes while his body lay wasted, the aura of death almost strong enough to touch.

“Every time I’ve thought for my son, planned for him with his best interests in my heart, I have failed us both. I won’t fail you, too. Give him time, then. Give him ease and offer him love, but when he has cast the last part of you away, as he has me, do what you must. Don’t let him destroy you, too.”

“Why do you tell me this? Why do you encourage me to flee him?”

“Because, dear heart, ‘twas my hand that brought him his misery and I thought to find peace from my conscience before my death. It will not be so, but this is no fault of yours or Chad’s. I do not deserve his hate so heartily as he believes.” Then he groaned, and whispered, “He hates me with every fiber of his being.”

“He’ll come to you in time and with but a small urging will—”

“No! I’ll not grovel and beg my son to forgive my actions! I was quite taken with my position, doing only what I was forced to do under the circumstances. Chad is a man now, he should better understand obligations and what a father’s love means. I have crawled like any aging fool and begged him to see that he accuses me unjustly in many things. I will not again. If there can be no dignity in my death, what purpose has there been to my life?”

Chelynne hung her head sadly. She was the last person able to answer a dying man. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and reached out to touch an old and withered hand. “Rest easy, my lord. If there is any way I can bring Chad ease in his life, I will do so. There is always tomorrow.”

“And for you there will be many. But one day you will be old, like this. I hope you do not ask yourself then what has become of your life.”

She rose and placed a kiss on his cheek, patting his hand, forcing a reassuring smile. “ ‘Twill not be so. All will be well.”

She sought out the drawing room in quiet determination. She sent Bestel to find Chad, he being the only servant in the house to know where his master could be found. The afternoon was aging when he finally returned.

“I was told it was urgent,” he said, as if piqued at being summoned home.

“It’s your father. He seems to be...dying.”

“I for one am surprised he lasted this long. I thought it hopeless a year ago.”

“It’s different this time, Chad. Now he wishes to die.”

“Good,” he muttered under his breath. Her eyes shot to his face in stunned disbelief. “He’s suffered much, Chelynne. It pains me to see him go on like this. I wish him only rest.”

“Chad, go to him...”

“Aye, I’ll go.”

“This time let it be different, Chad. He dies heavy of heart. Make your peace...if not for him, for yourself.”

He stared at her, his eyes cutting through her. She had been cautious not to dig into any open wounds. She had never mentioned or questioned the battle between father and son. Now she lost her voice. As he started away from her she timidly touched his arm. “Chad, I have never known the love of a mother and father. I was left as the burden to a relative shortly after my birth. I would give anything to have one small chance, one short moment with either of those who brought me to life.”