Song From the Sea (22 page)

E
ngland really was a very attractive country, Callie decided as the carriage barreled down the road to Folkestone. The hedge-banks teemed with shiny yellow buttercup and snowy white campion, the roadsides sported pink-tipped daisies and the bright yellow and purple of heartsease along with a myriad of other wildflowers she'd already identified the day before.

Spotting a clump of valerian growing in the crack of a wall, Callie smiled, thinking of Nellie and her fretful Georgie. She'd have to gather some valerian and make a nice infusion to bring to Nellie—she could make all sorts of infusions and decoctions from the plants she'd seen. That would keep her busy and her mind off Adam for a change.

He sat next to her, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. She had no idea where his thoughts had taken him, but she felt unaccountably shy after their late-night conversation, as if she had stripped her soul bare and was now badly feeling the exposure.

She could only be grateful that Adam had made no mention of their exchange. Indeed, the casual way in which he'd behaved all morning would have made her think she'd dreamed the entire interlude if every moment wasn't burned so clearly into her mind. What was it about the night that brought forth the deepest secrets of the heart?

At least she'd managed to keep her feelings about him to herself, and she thanked the good Lord that she had, for she wouldn't have been able to bear him looking at her with shock and horror, and almost worse, inevitable pity.

She really was ten kinds of fool, and given his extraordinary acuity, he was bound to figure that out for himself in no short order if she wasn't very, very careful. She hadn't managed to keep anything else from him very successfully, had she, no matter how hard she'd tried.

“Callie?”

She belatedly realized that Adam had spoken, and for an awful moment she thought he might have read her mind. She had to mentally shake herself back to the present moment. “I beg your pardon. Did you say something?” She schooled her face to reflect nothing more than polite inquiry. They were on their way to visit the dressmaker, nothing more. He couldn't
possibly
know what she'd been thinking about, no matter how acute he could be.

“I did,” he said, regarding her with a tinge of curiosity. “I asked if you minded being left at Mrs. Sorrel's shop while she does all the measuring and so on. I'd like to run some errands that would only bore you if you were with me, and frankly, I'd be bored to tears if I had to perch on an uncomfortable chair and make approving noises all afternoon.” He smiled. “I apologize, but I can't help being a man. Even my tailor tries my patience.”

“He might try your patience, but the results are worthwhile,” Callie said. “You are always well turned out. But do you think it wise to leave me on my own, Adam? I know nothing about ladies' fashions, and might very well choose designs and materials better suited to a scarecrow.”

“Callie. You could not possibly resemble a scarecrow, no matter how much effort you put into the endeavor. However, Mrs. Sorrel will not allow you to make any mis-takes—she is very particular about how her clients reflect on her. I trust her implicitly.”

“I am sure she charges you the moon for the privilege,” Callie replied dryly.

“Indeed she does, and if the next words out of your mouth are going to be that I should not be buying you a new wardrobe at all, I do not want to hear them. I, like Mrs. Sorrel, have a reputation to maintain.”

“Honestly, Adam, the way you talk anyone would think you kept a stable of mistresses.” Callie gasped when she heard what she'd said and blushed furiously, wanting to kick herself. “Oh! Forgive me. I—I didn't mean …”

Her words were drowned out by Adam's laughter. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks and he had to struggle to catch his breath. “Ah,” he said, clutching his hand to his ribs. “Ah, Callie, I don't think …” He collapsed with laugher again. “I don't think,” he finally managed to say, wiping his eyes, “that anyone in his right mind would reach such a conclusion.”

Callie tried to smile in response, but she felt like an utter idiot for having thoughtlessly made the joking remark. Adam was the least likely man to keep a mistress and all of England probably knew it. He'd been far too busy being happily married to his beloved Caroline and just as busy grieving her loss to give any thought to another woman.

He lightly took her hand in his. “You needn't look so mortified, Callie. I assure you, I'm not in the least offended, and if you're worried that Mrs. Sorrel might leap to the wrong conclusion, I'll make very sure that she doesn't.”

Callie only nodded, feeling as if Adam might just as well have slapped her. If she'd held out any fantastic hope that he might find her even vaguely desirable, he'd just effectively quashed it. He thought of her only as a friend— a good friend, perhaps, but nothing more. He'd made that very clear. Anything beyond that was no more than a foolish dream on her part, and she couldn't afford dreams.

“Look, Callie—we approach Folkestone,” he said, pointing ahead at the outskirts of the city. He shot her a mischievous smile. “If you'd chosen to arrive on the shores of England by the usual method, you might have arrived over there at the docks.” He moved his arm to the right. “See the masts of the clipper? She probably came in last night. She's the
Mirabelle
, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Adam …” Callie suddenly sat up straight as something blindingly obvious occurred to her. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. “Wouldn't there be a record of a female passenger who left France but didn't arrive in England on the day that you found me?” Her mouth went dry with excitement. Maybe at last she would learn something, anything, about who she was, where she belonged.

“I'm sorry, Callie. Nigel made every inquiry imaginable both here and in Dover, but no information came up at all.”

“But how is that possible?” she said. “I was on a ship! I fell off it—you saw me. That's one thing we can be certain about.” She thought hard. “There
has
to be a record of some kind, Adam. People aren't allowed to board as they please without a ticket and identification, are they?”

“No, they're not. I'm as mystified as you are, and to be perfectly honest, I've wondered if you didn't stow yourself away.”

“Why on earth would I do a silly thing like that?” she said. “It sounds both dangerous and uncomfortable.”

“You did disembark in a rather imaginative fashion,” he pointed out. “Maybe you'd been ferreted out and were afraid of the consequences.”

“So I deliberately jumped overboard into the middle of the English Channel in a gale? I might not have any memory, Adam, but that sounds like the height of stupidity. I don't think being charged with illegal passage would warrant such an extreme act.” She chewed on the fingertip of her glove, trying to think of another possibility. “Anyway, you said I was singing. Why would I be singing if I planned to leap to almost certain death?”

“You do a great many things that I don't pretend to understand,” he said. “For example …” He hesitated, scratching the side of his cheek as if reluctant to say anything more.

“For goodness' sake, don't stop now,” Callie said with impatience. “I'm already beginning to think myself quite mad.”

Adam turned her to face him directly. “Now I'm going to sound mad, but I've noticed that—that you really do seem to have a gift of communicating with … well, with birds and beasts and … and seemingly even bees,” he said. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“Of course,” Callie said, wondering why he looked so embarrassed. “What of it? As I've said before, you talk to your horse and he talks back, doesn't he?”

“Mmmph. Yes and no. I don't—that is, we don't communicate in the same way as I'm referring to.” He looked away as if trying to find a polite way to say that she really was away with the fairies.

Callie, far more worried about other matters, just patted his arm. “It's all right, Adam. You are very gifted when it comes to running an estate and looking after people who depend on you, and I happen to be good at understanding God's smaller creatures. Really, there's nothing more to it than that.”

“Yes, but Callie, there's something I should tell you about the day I pulled you into my boat and brought you back to Stanton, since I haven't been able to make rhyme or reason of it since.”

“What?” she said with alarm. She couldn't think why he was being so evasive. Had she done or said something truly crazed? “Please, just tell me, Adam.”

“Very well,” he said with resignation. “If you must know, a Great Black-backed Gull was circling over your head just before you fell. You had your arms outstretched, and at first I assumed you were preparing to jump, but perhaps you were singing directly to the gull. That seems odd enough, but what truly puzzles me is that the gull seemed to be protecting you.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Callie, that bloody bird accompanied us all the way back to shore, fighting against the wind the entire time. It only left once you were safely on land. To be absolutely honest, and this isn't easy to admit, I'm not sure I would have made it safely home if the gull hadn't shown me the way.”

Callie, so deeply moved that she couldn't speak, slipped her hand up to his cheek. “Thank you for telling me,” she said simply.

“You're very welcome, and by God, don't think you're getting any more admissions out of me for at least six months. I've done enough confessing in the last twelve hours to make me a candidate for Catholicism. But seriously, Callie, does this mean anything to you, anything at all? Can the gull have been your pet, perhaps? Can you think of any reason that you would have been standing out in the raging elements singing to it?”

“If you're asking me if the story sparked a memory, I wish I could say it had. I have no answer to your question.” She dropped her gaze. “I imagine you think me quite mad to have been doing anything of the sort, but I must have had a good reason.”

He nodded, lowered her hand, and straightened. “I have come to believe that your reasons for doing anything might be unorthodox, but they're generally sound. Never mind, we'll eventually work through the puzzle and come up with answers, but for now let us focus on the present. We are arriving at Mrs. Sorrel's establishment.”

Adam called to the coachman, who pulled the horses over, and Callie straightened her dress, lifted her chin, and set her mind to conducting herself as she imagined a proper lady might behave so as not to embarrass Adam.

“Lord Vale! How nice to see you again,” Mrs. Sorrel, a plain woman somewhere in her middle years who wore a simple but beautifully cut gray dress, hurried toward them as they entered the premises, smiling pleasantly. Adam introduced Callie as the sister of an old friend, much to Callie's amusement, and explained why they were there. Mrs. Sorrel listened carefully to Adam's instructions without interrupting, and when Adam took his leave she sat Callie down with a book of fashion plates.

“These will give you an idea of this year's fashions,” she said, pointing at two of the samples. “I don't think we'll have any trouble finding suitable styles, my dear, as you are blessed with a lovely figure. You look through this, and then we'll discuss materials and colors.”

Two hours later Mrs. Sorrel finally finished compiling her list and Callie, staggered by the size and probable expense of what Adam had meant by a “complete wardrobe,” felt badly in need of some fresh air. Adam wasn't due back for another half-hour and she really didn't think she could sit still any longer.

“If you don't need me for anything further, Mrs. Sorrel, I'm going to take a stroll down the main street before Lord Vale returns. I shouldn't be long.”

“Very well, Miss Magnus,” Mrs. Sorrel said, looking slightly surprised that Callie would venture out unaccompanied, but she quickly schooled her features into neutrality. “I think I have everything I need. I believe Lord Vale will be pleased with your choices.”

Callie hadn't had very much to do with choosing; she'd followed Mrs. Sorrel's tactfully phrased suggestions for the most part. “Thank you, Mrs. Sorrel,” she replied equally tactfully. “I am sure he will be very pleased, as will my dear brother. He most specifically requested Lord Vale's help in finding a suitable dressmaker, and Lord Vale did not hesitate to suggest you,” she added for good measure, just in case Mrs. Sorrel thought Callie might be Adam's recently acquired mistress.

Callie walked out into the sunshine, happy to stretch her legs. The shop windows teemed with all sorts of interesting goods, but she was particularly struck by the display in the bookstore front at the far end of the street. She wished she had some money, for she would have loved to buy Adam a copy of Thomas Moore's
Lalla Rookh.
Adam had mentioned wanting to read it.

“Good heavens! Look, Harold, it's
her
, as I live and breathe! Do something quickly!”

Callie glanced up, wondering what sort of woman possessed such a loud, grating voice. She froze as she spotted the source of the racket, only about thirty feet away. A thin woman with sharp features and dressed from head to toe in black stood staring directly at her, one finger pointing, her eyes looking as if they were about to pop out of her head. The plump and highly unattractive younger man at her side gaped at Callie as if he'd seen a ghost.

Her heart pounding with alarm, Callie's immediate instinct was to disappear inside the bookstore and hide behind a shelf, but she didn't even have a chance to move before the pair had descended on her in a rush.

“Miss Melbourne! It
is
Miss Callista Melbourne?” The bony woman grabbed her by the arm as if Callie might bolt. “Of course it is—you are exactly like your picture. I am Lady Geoffrey, dear. But where in heaven's name have you been? Harold and I have been beside ourselves with worry for the last month!”

“My mother understates the matter,” Harold said. “We have been extremely put out by your thoughtlessness, but I suppose one shouldn't expect more from a girl raised as negligently as you have been.”

“I—I …” Callie, dizzy with shock, couldn't manage to formulate a single coherent thought other than horror that these two offensively behaved people might actually have something to do with her missing past.