The Silent Love (21 page)

In a voice choked with emotion, he whispered. "Tis your father, lad. Would that I could be here to see you to manhood, but you must grow without me."

The babe opened his amber eyes and looked straight into David's dark ones, as though he could understand his father's words... as though he understood the deep sorrow in his voice.

Covering the babe once more, he lifted him into his arms and brushed his lips over the soft black down of his hair, breathing in the essence of the child—a faint mixture of sour milk and strong, clean soap. David settled back and began to rock him, his arms strong and sure about the child, whose eyes drifted shut as he fell into slumber once more.

Hannah moved close to the door of the nursery, her body flat against the wall as she sought to keep hidden. She could hear the rocker creaking softly as David rocked their child. She cautiously peered around the doorframe, knowing that the rocker faced the window and she would likely not be seen.

His dark head rose above the back of the chair and she could see the column of his strong neck, the granite of his profile as his head was turned slightly to the side, and she remarked as well, the strong hand that lay atop the child, patting gently as he rocked.

Her heart was beating rapidly, her eyes streaming with tears of grief and loss as she looked at him.

The hair prickled on the back of his neck as David sensed her presence. He knew she watched him, for he could hear the soft breath escaping her lips and knew her pain and longing; knew her eyes feasted upon him. He dared not move or turn his head, lest she run away. He continued to rock gently until the babe whimpered and stirred, his small mouth sucking air as he moved his tiny head, seeking his repast.

Soundlessly, Hannah watched for a long moment, and jumped back quickly as David arose and placed the child in the cradle. Hannah sped on quiet feet, down the short flight of steps and back along the hall to her rooms. She waited just inside the door, her breathing shallow and quick.

His footfalls passed her door, pausing for a moment, and then pressed on slowly, fading into the distance. She fell upon her knees next to her bed, her head bowed in supplication as she prayed for release from her pain and forgiveness for her sin.

She prayed as well for David's safe journey through life.

* * * * *

 .

Declining his father's invitation to stay for luncheon, pleading his long drive as an excuse to be gone, he went to visit his mother, briefly. They spoke of his upcoming voyage, his new curricle, and many things. But they did not speak of Hannah. Sensing her son's withdrawal from the subject, Mary wisely stayed off the topic that was uppermost in her mind.

He visited as well, with his grandfather, who pressed a small carved soldier into his hand, saying only that this memento would mayhap keep him close to home in heart when he should look upon it.

The piece would make the set short by one, and often the child would wonder that he was missing one of his generals, as he grew older.

As he prepared to leave, his mother looked up at him, her dark eyes wise and knowing. And she spoke the words that he could not ask.

"She is able now to cope with the burden, David. I think perhaps in time she will be able to forgive herself, and in doing so, she will forgive you. I know that she loves you, though she has not said so. Women know these things. Be of good cheer and come back to us safe, my son."

David knew not when he would find the time or courage to return. He waved one final time to his mother and his grandsire then slapped the reins, giving the cattle their head.

He swung the carriage about heading back toward London, his eyes feasting upon the countryside, drinking in memories that would have to last; perhaps a lifetime. His heart stayed behind, leaving only the pulsing shell of pain that rested in his chest cavity... pumping the blood through his veins, keeping him alive, though he oft wished it would stop.

 .

*  * * * *

.

"Hannah, I would speak with you." The Marquis stood in her doorway until she yielded and allowed him entry to the antechamber. Seating himself, he dismissed Dobson and looked gravely at the girl. "You know that my son was here today?"

"Yes." Her voice was a whisper of haunted sound.

"Why then did you not come down to greet him?"

Her head flew up at the question, and she glared at the old man, her amber eyes, behind their jeweled frames, alight with indignation. "You know well why I did not. How can you ask?"

"He was disappointed not to see you. And, I am sure the servants are wondering, as well, that you would remove to your chambers instead of receiving family."

"Let them wonder, then. 'Tis no concern to me what those babbling fools think, say or do." Her voice was strident and suddenly very strong as she spoke, knowing the gossip spread about her and David had reached into the far corners of the valley.

She arose and stretched to her full five feet and looked every inch the imperious marchioness as she stood before her husband.

"Would you have me fly into his arms in joy? That would make the tongues wag with new vigor, I am sure." Her color was high and she had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment, though her eyes were troubled more than angry as she added her final words, a catch in her voice. "He will not look upon me again. I would that you never speak his name in my presence."

Her demeanor suddenly faded from defiance to defeat and her shoulders slumped wearily, for Hannah was not of a nature to remain angry, but it was not in her just yet to forgive the Marquis, either.

"If you are so against him, why then did you sneak to the nursery and peer round the corner as though a thief in the night?"

 The Marquis gave her a sly glance, for she fooled him not with her angry words. There was too much pain in her eyes.

"I did not sneak!" Squaring her shoulders once more, she glared at him fiercely.

"I saw you lurking there, and it was not in openness." He chided her gently. "If the servants should see you behaving so... "

"Don't! Say nothing further!" Hannah had endured more than she could bear from this old man and his son. She could not hear another word on the subject, for her heart was still heavy with the guilt of her sin, and worse, having loved David.

Hannah's sense of right and wrong was not balanced, nor would it be, until she came to grips with the fact that life was not black and white, but shades of gray. The Marquis wished to tell her this, but decided—and rightly—that she would reject his statement.

And so, he kept silent, studying her anguished face with sorrow.

"Shall we speak of other things then?" He hoped to lead her away from their bitter quarrel.

"I will have you leave now. I cannot abide this conversation longer." She went into the inner chamber and closed the door firmly.

Hannah had done with the Marquis as well.

The Silent Love

~ Book Two ~

~~

"The young master walks well for his age, does he not?" Elspeth stood at her mistresses' shoulder, watching young Clay as he cavorted on the lawn, chasing a low flying meadowlark, his chubby legs wobbling but holding him up as he ran.

At eighteen months, he was a sturdy child, and his sunny disposition was well remarked by all. His baby laughter rang out across the lawn as he changed directions, fell into the grass and raised himself up once more, going now after a squirrel that escaped his tiny fists as it scurried up a tree.

"Clay, come here now. 'Tis time for your lunch!" Hannah, who had only nodded to the maid's remark, now called to her son, who turned at her voice and came bounding to her. Laughing, Hannah held out her arms to the child, saying to Elspeth, "He knows well the words that depict being fed. I vow he shall be as big as an oak before he is two."

The child came to his mother and buried his black curly head in her lap, grasping her skirts with his fat little hands, his voice piping up. "Mamma, see the quirl?"

"Yes, my love, I did see it. What was the other one that you chased?"

"A bwird... a bwird." He leaned back from her and clapped his hands in glee, for quick-witted he was and knew well that he had given her the correct answer.

"You wonderful boy! How quickly you learn!" She praised him lavishly, and scooped the boy into her arms, heading for the manor.

"Elspeth, have cook prepare the nursery meal and have her send along my luncheon there as well. I would feed my son myself today."

Clayton Ambrose David Larkspur, 16
^th
Marquis of Darlington, clung to his mother's neck as she carried him, his small face pressed to her shoulder. "Momma fwed me?"

"Yes, you little piglet, momma will feed you."

The Marquis stood to the side of the door as she entered and bowed formally to Hannah who gave an awkward curtsey as she clutched the squirming child, eager to be let down that he might run to his second favorite person in all the world... his grandsire whom he called Papa.

"Hannah, may I join you in your nursery feast this day? I am fair famished, and you look so... happy and carefree. I need your brightness to lift my gloomy old spirits." The Marquis' voice held a faint note of pleading as he gazed at his young wife.

She strove to avoid him much of the time, but was always distantly polite when in his company, so he used her natural good manners against her, knowing that she would not refuse him such a direct request.

"As you say, Milord. I will have cook bring your luncheon along with mine. Clay!" She scolded the child, who had wiggled from her grasp and now threw himself at the Marquis' legs, nearly tumbling the man over. "Be gentle, son, with your... Papa. His legs are near as unsteady as your own."

That she hesitated in calling him sire to the child was not lost on the Marquis. He gave her a rueful grin. "Too bad the child has no grandfather to spoil and coddle him, but his Aunt Mary Strongbow does well enough in that respect, I should think."

Not knowing how to present his grandmother, Hannah had simply called her aunt and though she would have preferred a different name, Mary was content with her place in the child's life.

Hannah took the child and visited her in the village once or twice a week, taking pleasure in her friendship and guidance.

The time had passed quietly at Darlington Manor. Hannah had grown easier in her mind as David's presence was no longer there to remind her of the most heinous sin of adultery. Though she gradually accepted what Mary had told her about the grievous sin—that there was none, for it was true that she and her silent lover were not related by blood—she was still under the charge of adultery in God's eyes, and her own.