No Other Love (27 page)

Nurse nodded sagely. “Well, mayhap a babe will make her life happier.”

“I hope so. I only hope she is able to carry this one to full term.”

“Aye. Well, I’ll do everything I can to make sure she does.” Nurse set her pudgy jaw determinedly.

D
EBORAH WAS AS HAPPY TO SEE
her old nurse as the woman was to see her. She came out of the drawing room and hurried down the hall toward the older woman, her arms outstretched, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. “Nicola, you brought her! I knew you would!”

Nurse enfolded Deborah in her warm, motherly embrace. Richard followed his wife into the hall at a slower pace, watching his wife’s reunion with her nurse.

“Touching…” he murmured, and turned his gaze to Nicola. “How fortunate that you were at Buckminster Hall when the nurse arrived.”

“Yes, wasn’t it?” Nicola replied blandly. “She arrived this morning.”

“I hope you were able to help Lady Buckminster with the wedding. She seemed a little…shall we say, ignorant?…of exactly what you were doing.”

Nicola forced a laugh. “Yes. Aunt Adelaide cares little for such things. That is why she needed my help. I think we made a start on it, and, now, with Bucky and Penelope and the others coming soon, she will be able to turn all the preparations over to them.”

“Of course.” His tone indicated a certain doubt, but Nicola ignored it. Richard had obviously grown somewhat suspicious about Nicola’s visit to her aunt, but she was sure that he knew nothing about what she had actually been doing. The odds were that he would assume it had something to do with Nurse’s arrival, and as long as she said nothing, all his speculation would be useless.

So she merely smiled at him and went to join Deborah and Nurse.

I
T WAS WONDERFUL TO SEE HER
sister happy and content. Their former nurse was quick to soothe Deborah’s fears and worries, for she spoke with authority on all subjects regarding pregnancy and infants. Under her care, even Deborah’s morning sickness seemed to subside. She took over most of the food preparation for Deborah’s morning and noontime meals, unerringly choosing things that did not aggravate her nausea and coaxing her into eating them. She was also able to pull Deborah out of her gloom, encouraging and helping her to sew and knit for the coming baby’s layette, talking about the wonderful antics of children she had known, and generally increasing Deborah’s optimism.

Nicola quickly found that their ongoing discussions of babies left her a trifle bored, and though she helped them sew, her stitching skills were not of a quality to do the fine work, leaving her with the duller work of seams and hems. Deborah had shifted her dependence from Nicola to her nurse, freeing Nicola from constant attendance on her, but she had little else to do to occupy her time.

She cast about for something and hit upon the idea of sprucing up Granny Rose’s cottage. It had saddened her to see it in its current condition, and it was the sort of active task she enjoyed.

So a few mornings after she brought Nurse to Tidings, she had her horse saddled, tucked her work gloves and a few gardening tools in a bag, and set out for Granny Rose’s cottage.

Nicola was prepared this time for the overgrown state of the cottage, but it still made her sad. She wondered if Jack had come by to look at his grandmother’s house and how he had felt when he saw it. Nicola wondered if Granny Rose had ever received any more communications from him before she died or if she had died, wondering what had happened to him. It made her feel even sadder to think of that.

She tethered her horse in front of the cottage and exchanged her fine leather riding gloves for coarser cloth ones. Then she set to work on the garden. Taking out her small pruning shears, she began on the shrubs, but she quickly found that she needed something larger. She searched in back of the cottage and found a small shed that contained larger tools. Taking out a larger set of shears, she began to clip away the vines that grew over the windows. It was more physical labor than she was used to, but today Nicola welcomed the work. It took her mind off her obsessive thoughts, and that was surely an advantage, for sitting at Tidings the last few days, she had thought of little except Jack Moore.

Once she had cleared the windows of vines and opened the shutters so that light could enter the house, she went inside to investigate. Granny Rose’s furniture stood exactly where she remembered it, giving an eerie impression that the old woman had just stepped out and might be back at any minute. She was pleased to find that it was not as dusty as she had expected, but there was still plenty of work to be done to make it clean. She hauled the rugs outside and hung them over low branches of trees, then applied the rug beater she had found inside. Puffs of dust billowed out, and she kept swinging until the rugs were clean. By the time she finished, her arms ached. But she went on to dust the furniture and sweep and mop the floor.

She had brought a basket of food with her, knowing that it would be a long hard day, so she ate a cold luncheon in the middle of the day and even had a cup of tea and biscuits at teatime. After she ate, she returned to work, and by dark the house was mostly clean inside and she was bone weary. Though she had done her fair share of manual labor at her charitable houses, she was not used to doing quite this much of it at one time. Still, it felt good to work and to have a clean house to show for it.

She returned eagerly to the cottage the next day and picked up where she had left off. She located the cabinet filled with the beakers, vials and jars that Granny had used in her remedy-making, and she took them out and washed them. It pleased her to return Granny’s little work area to the state she remembered it. She decided to celebrate with a rest and cup of tea. She had just set the kettle on to boil and put tea leaves in Granny’s plain teapot when there were noises outside. At first she thought it was simply her horse moving about restlessly and whinnying, but then she realized that if her horse was that agitated, there must be something wrong.

Nicola went to the window and looked out. Jack was dismounting from his horse and leading it around the side of the house toward the back. Her stomach constricted, and she felt suddenly hot, then cold. One hand flew to her hair, tied up in an old kerchief while she cleaned, and she realized in horror how she must look—dressed in old clothes, her hair a mess. She whirled and ran for Granny’s bedroom, whipping off the kerchief and apron as she went. She straightened her hair as best she could and rubbed a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

“Nicola?” Jack’s voice came from the front door.

Nicola’s heart jumped into her throat, and she went to the door of the bedroom. Jack stood across the main room of the tiny house, just inside the door. Nicola thought suddenly of the times she had seen him this way when they had met here ten years ago under Granny’s less-than-approving eye.

“Hello.” Her voice came out much softer and more fluttery than she would have liked.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Nicola raised an eyebrow. His abrupt question and flat tone had chased away the breathless feeling inside her. “I might ask you the same thing.”

“It is my grandmother’s house,” he pointed out.

“And it was my friend’s,” Nicola responded. “When I saw it the other day, I knew that I could not leave it in this condition. Granny Rose would have hated it, especially the garden going to seed.”

“This isn’t the garden.”

Nicola grimaced. “Are you afraid I’m stealing Granny’s old pots and pans? I started work in here. Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” he responded honestly. “I—it just surprised me to see your horse tethered outside.”

In fact, it had made him think of the times when they had met at his grandmother’s when they were young and in love. He remembered how his heart would rise when he came around the curve in the road and saw Nicola’s bay mare tied in front of the house. For a moment he had felt back in that time and place, his pulse jumping with anticipation, his lips widening involuntarily into a grin. It had been decidedly irritating.

Jack closed the door and advanced into the room. “Have you thought that perhaps I liked the cottage being so inconspicuous?”

“Leave the ivy, then. You don’t have to have weeds as tall as I am in your yard. Especially the herb garden. It is disgraceful. Granny Rose had the finest herb garden in all Dartmoor.”

He shrugged, but Nicola could see a vaguely guilty look steal into his eyes.

“What does it matter if the garden is cleared?” Nicola pressed her argument. “It isn’t as if you were living here. No one is going to search for you at Granny Rose’s cottage, and even if they did, you wouldn’t be here. Where’s the harm in making it look nice?”

“There is none, I suppose. Maybe I have been suspicious for too many years.” He glanced around at the room in which they stood. “It looks much nicer. What did you do?”

“Just cleaned it—beat the rugs, mopped the floors, things like that.”

His brows rose. “You?”

“Yes, me.” Nicola put her hands on her hips pugnaciously. “Why shouldn’t it be me? I am quite capable of cleaning a house.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you had ever even swept a floor.”

“Well, it isn’t how I normally spend my time, but I have cleaned a few houses. The places I bought for my women were not exactly sparkling.”

“I would have thought you hired people to do that.”

“In general, I find the money is better spent on other things, such as food and clothing. We try to do as much of the work as possible. Once we have a house set up, the women who live there keep it clean.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Just as he started to speak, the kettle began to whistle sharply, startling them both. Nicola jumped, then laughed.

“I was about to have a cup of tea. Would you like some?”

Jack hesitated, then smiled. “All right.”

He followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame and watching as she poured water over the tea and left it to steep, then bustled about, getting out cups and spoons and taking a tiny bag of sugar from her basket. Jack leaned over and looked into the basket and grinned.

“I must say, you come well-prepared.”

“I intended to spend the day.”

“Did you bring enough for two?” he asked.

Nicola looked at him, feeling suddenly as if her lungs had stopped working. “Probably. Why?”

“I thought I might stay and help you. Out in the yard, I mean. I would think much of the work is too heavy for you.”

A smile curved Nicola’s mouth and warmed her gray eyes. She felt so suddenly, eagerly happy that her knees turned shaky. She strove to keep her voice light. “Why, thank you. I think I could manage to find enough food to make it worth your while.”

He returned her smile, and for a moment Nicola thought that he was going to say something else, but then he pressed his lips together and turned away. “Uh, are there tools still around?”

“Yes. Everything seems to be pretty much as she left it. I guess there were no heirs other than you, and no one knew what to do with it.”

“There are few people who would want to live here,” he explained. “People always came to Granny, but they feared her, too. They thought she came from a long line of witches. That was one reason why she enjoyed your visits. You were the only one who wanted to learn, who viewed her as a…a sort of doctor, I suppose, instead of someone who made magical potions.”

“I never knew that.” She looked at him. “Do people view me that way?”

“Not that I know of. I listened when people spoke of you, but I tried not to ask questions. I thought they might find that strange.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Not the best policy. It resulted in some misinformation.” At Nicola’s questioning look, he added, “At first I thought you were Lady Exmoor.”

“Oh.” She looked away, uncomfortable now, with the estrangement between them suddenly intruding on what had been a pleasant, even friendly time.

“I have been thinking the last few days…” he began, looking down at his hands as though they had suddenly become fascinating. “What if I have been wrong about other things? What if I was too—too hasty in my judgment?”

“And have you decided anything?” Nicola asked, her breath uneven.

“No,” he replied honestly, and this time he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “I don’t know what to think. I look at you, I think of you, and all I can see is how beautiful you are, how good you are, how kind and hardworking and generous…and I think, I was a fool! I was the one who wasn’t true. I doubted our love. And you.”

He clenched his jaw and pushed himself away from the door frame, walking away from her. “But then I think that it is now that I am being a fool, that I am believing what I
want
to believe, not the evidence. That if I let myself trust you, I shall fall into that pit all over again.”

“That is how you think of our love? As a pit?”

“No. The pit was the pain afterward, the bone-aching loss, the realization that I wished my life was over because I felt as if everything in me had already died.” His voice was harsh, his eyes blazing. “That is the pit I lived in for years, when the only thing that kept me alive was hating you and Exmoor.” He slammed his fist into the wall. “Bloody hell!”