The Prince of Eden (33 page)

As they drew near the bottom of the cliff staircase, the ringing of the bell became even more frantic. Starting the steep ascent, Jane took the lead, reaching back for Marianne's hand, the two of them leaning

laboriously into the ascent, wind increasing, the expression on Marianne's face one of effort coupled with boundless joy.

At the top of the walk the two old women stopped for breath. Jane faced Marianne, whose eyes still bore the look of unbearable anticipation. "Now," she pronounced, "let's see you." Quickly she reached down and made an attempt to brush the dust from the hem of the black gown. She adjusted her sister's bonnet, which had become askew during the climb up.

Marianne stood immobile and docile before her, permitting the minor adjustments. Suddenly her eyes froze on something, an incredible light on her face. Jane looked ahead, and saw him as well. Apparently he'd alighted from his carriage inside the inner courtyard, had found his welcoming committee lacking, and had come in search of his mother.

For a moment, she felt Marianne pause beside her as though the mere sight of him had left her paralyzed with joy. Even from that distance, Jane could see his face, handsome still, in spite of his reputation for dissipation, his long fair hair blowing in the wind, his jacket opened, the best of Thomas Eden, the best of Marianne, combined in one burst of creativity, the whole magnificent effort a mockery for the lack of legitimate vows.

Jane was aware of the guardsmen watching, and there were a few stewards peering through the gate.

Then slowly Edward lifted his arms and opened them wide, a shelter of vast and welcoming proportions, promising protection.

Marianne whispered his name, "Edward," then she was moving, and he was moving, arms still outstretched, slowly at first, then both increasing in speed until at last, the reunion itself, his broad shoulders enveloping her so completely that for a moment it seemed to Jane as though he had devoured her.

Strangely Jane felt her eyes blur and looked quickly away. The whole encounter had a peculiar aspect to it, more like a young woman running to greet her lover than an aging mother going forward to greet a son.

Again Jane glanced back at the prolonged embrace, the two of them apparently content merely to stand in one another's arms. She watched a moment longer, then again averted her face and looked out across the channel. The wind was picking up, causing a ruffle of white caps.

Would the embrace never end?

She remained silent in mild dismay, divided between shock at her sister's wantonness and surprise at her nephew's show of warmth, not exactly knowing who in this moment was the madder of the two, the

mother who received her son in that manner, or the son who greeted his mother in that manner.

Enough, Jane thought sternly, sensing eyes peering out of every window of the castle.

But obviously the two at the top of the incline, locked in each other's arms, disagreed.

It seemed only a moment that Marianne had confused her son's arms for those of her dead husband. No more.

Then she held him at arm's length and studied his face and saw it changed, older, more sorrowing.

He was treating her to the same close scrutiny. "As lovely as ever. Lady Eden," he smiled, inclining his head. Then he caught sight of her soiled gown. "You've been down to Mortemouth," he commented softly.

"Jane's idea," she smiled, motioning to the old woman waiting a distance away.

Gently he broke away and moved toward Jane. Marianne saw him greet her warmly and gallantly extend his arm to her and together the two of them rejoined her.

As they drew near, Marianne heard Jane scolding. "That was quite a greeting," she grumbled. "Enough to keep the servants gossiping for weeks—"

Marianne laughed. "A mother and son have certain privileges."

"Indeed they do," Edward concurred. As he moved between them, they each took an arm and began slowly to make their way toward the castle gate.

"Was it a hard journey?" Marianne asked.

"It was," he said, after what seemed a long pause, as though at first he'd not heard the question. "Jennifer's with me, you know," he added.

She nodded, silently bracing herself for the reunion with her daughter.

Edward spoke on. "It occurred to us while we were in London that Eden Castle lacked a pianoforte. So we brought one with us. Masson's finest, I might add, though it slowed us considerably."

"A pianoforte," Jane exclaimed. "How lovely! It's been years since I've heard Jennifer play."

Edward smiled, as though pleased that someone shared his sentiments. As for Marianne, her attention had already been drawn through the castle gates and into the inner courtyard where she spied first the enormous wagon with the cumbersome lump, clearly the new pianoforte. Then she saw the tight little knot of people standing on the

steps leading up to the Great Hall, talking animatedly among themselves until at last, apparently spying the three passing through the castle gates, they all fell silent

In spite of Jane's recent efforts to bolster her courage, Marianne felt a compulsion to run. It was never an easy task to face one's failures.

Edward didn't seem to notice, but apparently Jane did and now she caught Marianne's eye and with a massive and stern expression indicated that she was to stand erect.

You are Marianne, Lady Eden, the Countess Dowager of—

Abruptly Marianne withdrew her arm from Edward's. Under her sister's merciless gaze she had received the message. She walked alone now, the other two following after her.

Sustained by Edward's warm embrace, more convinced than ever that the Eden fortune was in the proper hands and would stay there, she drew far ahead of Edward and Jane, her eyes focused on the young woman in the plain brown traveling suit, looking twice her age, Marianne thought, looking as withdrawn and secluded as Sophia Cranford, who stood protectively beside her.

Armed with Edward's recent expression of love, she felt a surplus of love to give, and while she was still a few steps away, she opened her arms, calling out warmly, "Jennifer," then quickly closing them again when it became apparent that the girl had no intention of coming to her.

Instead, as she drew near the stairs, Jennifer stepped politely down and extended her gloved hand. "Milady," she murmured.

With grace, Marianne endured the slight. "It's good to see you again," she said softly. "I must confess I spend a great deal of time worrying about you in cold Yorks."

"The cold differs little from Devon cold," Jennifer replied courteously. "And I apologize for not writing. My duties keep me very busy."

For the moment, Marianne allowed her eyes to wander up to the grinning Sophia, who always seemed to receive a letter a month from Jennifer. Then behind Sophia, she saw Sir Claudius, his soft pink face sobered, his eyes seeming to rest suspiciously on Edward. She noticed for the first time that Caleb was missing, as was James. "Where is—"

Immediately Sophia interrupted, as though reading her mind. "Caleb has gone to fetch him, milady," she said primly.

The traffic on the stairs was quite heavy as the stewards rushed up and down with the trunks. Behind Edward's carriage, Marianne noticed four men standing near the new pianoforte. Hoping to elicit at least a faint light from Jennifer's face, Marianne moved to one side, nearer to her daughter. "Edward tells me that you have promised to

play for us, has even provided you with a magnificent—"

"I did not ask for it, milady," the young woman said, a curtness to her voice.

"No, of course not," Marianne murmured. "I didn't mean to imply that you—"

She broke off, her futile efforts taking a toll. For a moment a confused silence settled on the group as the stewards, with continuous apology, moved back and forth. Marianne glanced over her shoulder toward Edward. He appeared as dejected as she felt. He leaned heavily against the door of his carriage as though loath to lose contact with it.

What in God's name were they standing about for? "Let's move inside, please," she suggested. "There's no reason—"

But again Sophia interrupted her. "We're waiting for James," she smiled. "He's in the stables. As I said, Caleb has gone to fetch—"

Then Marianne heard Jane's voice. "Miss Cranford," she said, moving forward, striking the gravel with her walking stick. "Lady Eden wishes to retire inside. Would you be so good as to lead the way?"

The tall angular woman gaped at Jane. Marianne saw two dots of color rising on her cheeks. "I thought, out of courtesy," she snapped, "it would be best—"

"You're not paid to think. Miss Cranford," Jane smiled, starting up the stairs now, pausing a moment to kiss Jennifer lightly on the cheek. "You look terrible," she said bluntly to the girl. "You need some Devon sun." Then she was on her way again, tapping out with her walking stick her forward progress up the stairs.

Lacking her sister's appetite for tension, Marianne glanced back at Edward, saw a half smile on his face as, still leaning against his carriage, he shook his head. Then Marianne heard Sophia's high-pitched voice. "Here he comes," she proclaimed.

As Marianne glanced up at the shrill announcement, she saw all eyes following the course of Sophia's extended hand. Marianne knew who it was without looking, but she looked anyway along the sandy tracks that led into the inner courtyard from the stables. She had hoped to postpone the meeting, at least until after dinner, after Edward had had a chance to rest, and she'd had a chance to talk with him.

But apparently it was not to be. With fixed eyes she watched along with the rest as the distant figure appeared at the far end of the courtyard. She noticed that he wore his blacksmithing apron. Obviously he'd been attending his horses. Although there were four trained blacksmiths at the Eden stables, nothing brought James greater pleasure than to preside over the forge himself.

Behind him, she saw Caleb Cranford, his rigid figure in curious

contrast to James's slouched one. The tall Yorkshireman seemed to be herding her son along the path, as though, at the first sign of retreat, he was there to change his mind.

The man in the black apron was drawing nearer, his head still down, his step slow and uneven as he fumbled now with heavy gloves. Then he made an attempt to straighten his long dark hair and again commenced forward motion, moving not toward Edward, who had stepped forward to greet him, but rather toward Jennifer, who stood halfway up the stairs.

"Jennifer," he smiled, taking a step upward, then extending his hand which, as far as Marianne could tell, her daughter took eagerly and came down the steps and into her brother's arms for a quick embrace.

Smiling, he held her back. "I'm in no fit condition, I'm afraid," he apologized.

Jennifer looked with what seemed to be genuine affection upon her brother. "I've missed you, James," she smiled.

"You look splendid. The school must agree with you. You must tell me all about it. The only word we receive is secondhand, through Sophia's letters—"

Throughout this exchange Marianne looked at Edward, who stood, head down, both hands shoved in his pockets, all his considerable attention apparently focused on moving small pieces of gravel about with the toe of his boot. He had to be aware of the slight.

Then the light banter at the steps ceased. All about the gathered company was a new tension, as though something of great import was about to happen. Then James was standing before his brother, apparently amused by Edward's preoccupation with gravel.

"Edward, welcome home," James said, kindly enough.

Edward looked up, as though surprised by both the voice and the sentiment. He seemed to be having difficulty bringing James into focus. Say something, Marianne thought quickly, say something back to him, kind and unimportant.

And Edward did. He extended his hand and as James took it, Edward murmured, "I fear we've interrupted important work." He smiled, gesturing toward the smithing apron.

"No, not at all," James reassured him. "There are always small jobs to be done, and countless men who can do them better than I can. Still—" He paused and shrugged, as though for a moment calling to account his own worth.

Now James caught sight of the enormous wagon, the four men still poised beside the canvas-covered lump. "What prize have you brought from London?" he inquired, moving around Edward, walking toward the wagon.

At his approach, all four men bobbed their heads, as though in recognition of the Lord of the Castle in spite of his smithing apron.

Edward followed after him and shouted up, "Unveil it. Let's see if Masson's worries were groundless."

The four men scrambled upward, each to their corners and commenced untying the ropes. All heads swiveled in that direction as the men released the canvas covering and drew it back. A low murmur of appreciation arose from the company as all stared in admiration at the handsome instrument. Clearly it had made the journey safely and intact.

"I bought it for Jenny," Edward explained. "She's promised to give us several concerts, haven't you?" he called back to the young woman on the steps.

The sudden shift of attention brought a blush to her cheeks. "If you wish," she murmured and seemed to push closer to Sophia as though for protection.

Edward was now calling instructions up to the men, telling them where to place the instrument. As Edward grew more expansive, something seemed to have sobered James. He withdrew several steps from the activity around the wagon and continued to eye the grand pianoforte as though assessing its cost.

If Edward saw the expression, he gave no indication of it and merely followed after James, his manner still light. "I had ulterior motives as well," he said, his voice low, but loud enough for Marianne to hear. "I've been trying to coax Jenny not to go back to that Yorkshire prison. I thought perhaps if she had a pianoforte—"

But James stiffened and interrupted. "I was under the impression that she enjoyed teaching—"

"Enjoyed it," Edward exclaimed. "Being shut up and cut off with only women and screaming children for company." He leaned closer, his voice very low now. "Yours may not be the only wedding in the coming year. Daniel Spade may have plans for Jenny. They get on very well."