Chapter Eighteen #3
The staff all seemed to delight in the little girl too, which was a huge relief.
“It’s been too long since there were children at Alverleigh,” was something she heard a number of times, from Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, down to the lowliest maidservant.
“Such a happy little soul. And look at the smile on her—lovely it is.”
For Flora was smiling and talking more and more, seeming not just unfazed by all the new places and new people, but delighting in all the attention.
Even the gardeners welcomed the child—despite her and Billy once relieving themselves on the lawn, much to her embarrassment. But the gardeners just laughed.
Her first day as mistress of Alverleigh was a busy and challenging one, and when the long day came to an end and she and Marcus sat down to dinner Tessa was exhausted. She wanted an early night to bed, preferably with her husband.
But Marcus had other ideas. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said to her after dinner. “I need to stretch my legs after all the sitting I’ve been doing. And it’s a lovely evening.”
It was a lovely evening, she had to admit. The sky was slowly fading to a soft lilac, the air was warm with a light, fragrant breeze and she could think of no excuse to refuse. Flora had been put to bed in the beautiful nursery, with Clothilde sleeping in the adjoining room.
It was just that Tessa didn’t want to see Ferndale and what had become of it.
Which was cowardly.
And foolish as well. Most people would be glad to see the restoration of a fine old estate that for years had been neglected, overgrown and falling to ruins. She fetched a shawl, and arm in arm they stepped out into the balmy night.
“Let’s go this way,” Marcus suggested and began to lead her in the direction she least wanted to go—toward Ferndale.
“What about over here?” she suggested. “I haven’t explored the maze yet. It looks most enticing.”
“We can do that another day. It’s better in full daylight.” Marcus led her firmly onward.
Tessa swallowed. Change was inevitable in life, she told herself.
She needed to face the changes at Ferndale, accept that her old home was no more, that there would be no fox cubs to visit, no otters frolicking in the pool, no badgers to watch by moonlight.
They belonged to her childhood, and her childhood was well and truly gone.
He was heading straight for the forest. She bit her lip. She needed more time to prepare for this. She could have told him, insisted they go the other way—he would listen, she knew. He always did.
But she said nothing. She could not look, however, and kept her eyes on the ground in front of her, trusting in Marcus to keep her on the path.
She knew when they entered the forest: she could smell it all around her, that fragrant melange of damp earth and fallen leaves and a million green scents. So dear and familiar.
Marcus said nothing, just led her on and on, while Tessa kept her eyes on the ground and silently berated herself for her cowardice.
He stopped and she stumbled to a halt. “Look,” he said softly.
She took a deep breath and raised her gaze.
And gasped. The forest—her beloved forest—was unchanged.
Well, of course it wasn’t, but it hadn’t been cleared and chopped and pruned neatly back into unrecognizability.
It was still the forest she’d grown up in and loved—with ferns and tangled undergrowth—and teeming with life.
Bewildered, unable to talk for the emotions flooding her, she turned to Marcus. “What? But I thought . . .”
He wrapped his arm around her waist. “I should have told you this before, but I was a coward. When your brother sold Ferndale, I bought it.”
“You?” She stared. “You bought it?”
He nodded. “I was the one who had the orchards brought back to productivity, and the gardens weeded and restocked, and the house repaired and refurbished.”
“But this . . .” She gestured all around them.
“I gave orders for minimal interference here. I knew you loved it wild and untamed.” His gaze flickered, and he turned her around. “Look.”
And across the lawn they’d come from ran a fox, a fox who limped slightly.
Tessa gasped. “Is that—it can’t be —it’s Russett! But how has she survived all this time?”
“It’s not Russett,” Marcus said gently. “Foxes don’t live that long.”
Tessa nodded. “Of course. I forgot that. My Russett would have died years ago. But there are still foxes living here?”
“More than ever. When I came into my inheritance, I banned hunting on all my estates. And traps are forbidden, so I don’t know how that one hurt her leg.
” He smiled ruefully. “It’s not a popular move, especially from those who raise chickens, but I remind them that foxes are God’s creatures too and they have to eat.
” He shrugged. “It doesn’t impress anyone, but still. . .”
Tessa watched, her heart full as not-Russett disappeared into the underbrush. Marcus continued, “And badgers still live in that sett, and otters still frolic in the pool. Your forest creatures are all safe.”
She turned in his arms, her eyes full of tears and embraced him. “Oh, Marcus, I don’t know how to thank you. I do love you so much!”
He stiffened, and she realized what she’d said. She hadn’t planned to say it—it had just burst from her full and overflowing heart. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Marcus,” she said. “I didn’t mean to say it.”
There was a short silence. Neither of them moved. His eyes bored into her. Finally he said in a curious voice, “You didn’t mean it?”
“No, of course I meant it. I just planned never to tell you, to burden you with my . . my feelings.”
“Burden me?” he repeated in that same curious voice.
She nodded. “You made it clear when you proposed that you didn’t want a love match. I should have told you back then that I thought I was falling in love with you, that I’ve been half in love with you since I was a little girl. But I didn’t.” She hung her head.
There was another long silence, broken only by the breeze fluttering the leaves, the far of cry of an owl, and the distant bark of a fox.
“You love me,” he repeated, as if checking his ears hadn’t deceived him.
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve been in love with you almost from the start.
” He paused, looking down at her, gripping her shoulders in a light firm hold.
“I was so sure you didn’t want to marry, that I made you think a practical marriage was all I wanted.
” He swallowed. “But we don’t have a practical marriage, do we? ”
Her heart to full to speak, she just shook her head.
His arms tightened around her. “At the time, I thought that’s what I wanted, too.
But I was in love with you long before I realized it.
I’m not very familiar with love, you see, so I didn’t recognize it at first.” His ice-gray eyes burned as he said in his deep voice, “But I love you, Tessa, darling, so very, very much.”
“And I love you, too, so very, very much,” she responded. And then they were kissing, and for a long time there was no more talking, only the giving and receiving of love.
Later they walked to the otter pond, and saw two otters playing and diving.
It was getting dark, and the clouds were coming back, so by mutual consent , arm in arm, they walked slowly back to the house.
“I first realized I felt more for you than I knew that time you were kidnapped. I was beside myself, fearing you’d be harmed—or worse.
And I could do nothing—nothing!—to help you.
The thought of going the rest of my life without you in it—” His voice broke and he kissed her again, hard, his kiss showing her what he couldn’t find the words for.
“And then,” he said as they resumed strolling, “on our honeymoon everything just kept getting better and better.”
“It was the same for me,” she said. “I was bursting to tell you what was in my heart—oh, so many times—but having married you under false pretenses I couldn’t burden you with my unwanted feelings.”
“False pretenses?” he laughed. “What a pair we are. But it’s not a burden—far from it.
I’m a changed man from the one you married, all cold and repressed and buttoned-up.
In fact, I’ll show you! I was longing to do this after you’d been kidnapped, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
” And without warning he swept her up into his arms and carried her, laughing and exclaiming that she was too heavy—to which he merely snorted.
He carried her up the front steps of Alverleigh, where he paused.
“Could you ring the doorbell please? I don’t want to put you down. ”
She pulled the bell pull and Peverill opened the door. “My lord,” he began, with a perturbed expression.
“Just carrying my bride over the threshold, Peverill. Nothing to be concerned about,” Marcus said airily and, with his precious burden, headed toward the stairs.
“Very good m’lord,” the butler said and beaming, he began to clap.
Within minutes another half dozen servants appeared and seeing what was happening, joined in the applause.
A shrill wolf-whistle showed that young Joey had joined them.
Attempting to maintain his habitual dignity, Marcus continued carrying his laughing bride up the stairs, kicked open their bedchamber door and deposited her, with a sigh of relief, on the bed.
“And now, my darling Lady Alverleigh. . .”
She opened her arms to him. “Yes, now please, Marcus darling.”