CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shock held all three silent for a moment, staring at the newcomer.
For both Unice and Osmond had also risen, flanking Denzell.
Not a trace of the mask remained in the lovely face, for Verena was looking up at the countenance above her as if her life depended upon his ability to handle this hideous turn of events.
Nor did Denzell fail her. His ailments were shrugged aside.
“Of course I will help you,” he said, collecting his wits and drawing her towards the chair lately vacated by Unice. “Sit down a moment.”
Verena held back. “No, no, I cannot. There is no time. I must —”
“You must be calm, Verena. Nothing will be resolved with panic.”
“Denzell is right, Verena,” said Unice. “We will all help you, never fear.”
“Come, sit,” Denzell urged.
He pushed her into the chair, and made to release her and turn to the others hovering behind him. But Verena’s hand clung to his fingers.
“Don’t leave me!”
“I won’t,” he assured her. His head turned to Osmond nevertheless. “Fetch some brandy, Ossie.”
“No, no, I want nothing.”
“You are in shock, Verena,” said Unice, leaning over her on the other side and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. She called out to her husband, who was already on the move. “Hart’s horn, Osmond! I think hart’s horn would be better, Denzell.”
“Brandy,” Denzell said, and reached out to pull one of the other chairs closer that he might sit beside Verena.
When he turned back to her, he saw not only that her bosom under the wrap-over bodice of the white gown palpitated with her uneven breath, but her lips were quivering and he could feel the trembling of her fingers within his grasp.
Unable to help himself, he lifted the hand to his lips and kissed it.
Verena stared at him. She was unable to think beyond what had happened, but she felt a little of her panic dying away, and wondered at the power he seemed to have to calm her.
“How do you do it?” she asked involuntarily.
“Do what?”
“Make me believe all is not as bad as it seemed only moments ago.”
He smiled. “It’s no special magic, Verena.”
“Yes, it is,” chimed in Unice. She patted Verena’s shoulder. “It is the magic of love.”
Verena did not look round at her, but continued to stare at Denzell’s face. Her fingers moved within his grasp, turning so that, without meaning to, they laced with his.
“Is it?” she asked of the smoky blue eyes.
“Yes,” he responded simply.
For a moment longer the look held between them. Then a sound, half-sob, half-sigh, broke from Verena, and she blinked as her trouble came back to her.
“Mama,” she murmured, and her gaze moved away from him.
But by this time Osmond was returning, a glass of brandy in his hand. Denzell took it from him, curled Verena’s fingers about it, and made her drink.
Verena sipped at the liquid, and choked on the fiery sensation as it caught in her throat. She tried to push the glass away.
“No more.”
“Yes — another sip or two,” Denzell insisted, obliging her to put the glass to her lips again.
She was in no condition to resist him. This time the liquid ran down more easily, and she felt a burning in her chest. And indeed it was having a calming effect. The sensation of panic began to subside.
“That’s better,” Denzell said, removing the glass. He tossed off what remained himself and handed the empty vessel back to Osmond. His head was the clearer for it, and he felt ready to deal with this emergency.
“Now, Verena, tell us the whole. From the beginning.”
Verena shivered, and without knowing that she did so, groped for his hand again.
She was aware only of the gathering despair in her breast as the events of the morning crowded into her memory.
But they did not have quite the same power to overset her, for the burden of settling the business no longer seemed to lie wholly on her own shoulders.
She spoke when she felt again the comfort of Denzell’s hand closing about her own.
At first she addressed herself almost exclusively to him.
“I thought all was well after last night. When Mama saw how you conducted yourself, she appeared to be convinced she had been mistaken in your sentiments — as we agreed she should be made to believe.”
“She said something then?” Denzell asked.
A faint smile flitted across Verena’s face. “She said that if there is one thing worse than abuse, it is the pain caused by philandering husbands. And Mrs Felpham was quick to come up and gloat that you had fallen into your old ways —”
“She would,” cut in Osmond.
“Hush!” Unice uttered. She had herself taken a seat on one of the other chairs, seeing how easily Denzell seemed able to attend to Verena’s immediate needs without any help from his hostess. “Let Verena tell her tale.”
“Go on, Verena,” Denzell said, grinning. “I take it you did not disabuse Mrs Felpham, any more than your mama.”
“No —” casting him a deprecating glance — “I was too busy trying to disabuse myself.”
The picture leapt back into her mind. So carefree he had seemed, laughing and casting sheep’s eyes all over the room.
Oh, the pain of watching it! And despite the fact that she had wanted him — had, indeed, demanded of him — to create that impression of disinterest in herself, she had begun to believe it was true.
She saw him start to speak, and shook her head. “Don’t scold. I know — oh, I know. But to see you flirting with other women…”
“Ha!” came from Osmond under his breath.
Unice frowned him down, but she need not have worried. Verena had eyes and ears only for Denzell as he murmured his reassurance.
“You would not have concerned yourself for an instant had you seen me at a later time. I have even now been suffering the most devilish head.”
The tiniest of laughs lightened her features for an instant. “So that is why you finished my brandy for me. Are you well again?”
He grinned. “No, but let that pass. I am the more troubled for you.”
Her features clouded again. “Oh, but she fooled me very successfully. Mama, I mean. We were discussing the matter at some length, and when I saw she had abandoned the notion of my marrying you, I begged her also to abandon any thought of this foolish determination to return with Nathaniel.”
“Did she agree that she would abandon it?”
“She said so, but adding the proviso that she might tell him she would ever be ready to go home should I fall in love.”
“To which you replied — what?” Denzell asked, with a brief resurgence of his headache as the heaviness that had so beset him earlier returned in some small measure.
“That I never would.” She looked away, muttering in a low voice, “I did not add my thoughts.”
“What thoughts?”
She shook her head. There could be no admission of that. She could not tell him how she had tried to push away such thoughts — as could never be pushed away. How could she fall in love at some future date, when her heart was already given?
“Suffice to say,” she said, “that Mama believed me, as I thought. But this morning —” drawing a breath against a renewed rise of the panic in her breast — “I was obliged to go out, leaving Mama alone with Betsey. Had I had the slightest inkling of what she intended, I should never have gone. But it is no use in saying that. I went only to make a purchase at Mr Sprange’s shop.
I was gone some while, but I never dreamt… ”
“Verena,” Unice put in, “you cannot blame yourself. How could you have expected that your mother would deceive you?”
“Never mind that, Unice. Go on with your story, Verena,” Denzell said.
She drew a breath, and continued. “When I arrived home, I discovered Mama had gone. Betsey said that a note arrived, and the next thing she knew, Mama had quietly put on her cloak and bonnet and walked out of the house. It had not even occurred to Betsey to try to stop her!”
“Perhaps she thought she was going for a walk,” suggested Unice.
Verena shrugged. “I don’t know what she thought. She does not have my imagination, and she must have supposed — as I had — that there was nothing to be concerned about as regards Nathaniel.”
“What did you do then?” Denzell asked, keeping her to the point.
“I ran straight to the New Inn, of course. Adam was putting up there, and I knew he had taken Nathaniel with him to secure a room there also.” She pressed her free hand to her cheek. “You m-may imagine my feelings when I discovered that both he and Adam had packed up and gone that very morning!”
Suddenly she wrenched her fingers out of Denzell’s hold, and threw both hands over her face, shaking her head in a frenzy of distress. Her words came muffled, but the despairing anger could be heard within them.
“I will never forgive him, never! He knew — he knew how I felt.” The agitated hands returned to her lap, gripped together, as she glanced at the surrounding faces, disbelief in both feature and voice. “How could he do it? How could he connive against me, knowing to what Mama must be subjected?”
Osmond and Unice looked at each other in some puzzlement, but Denzell understood.
“You are speaking of Adam. But you do not know for certain, Verena, that he has done any such thing. Did you make any enquiries at the New Inn? Had your mama come there, someone must have seen her.”
The once more ravaged features turned back in his direction, but it was obvious that she was too lost in the dread of the meaning of these events to take his meaning.
“I did ask,” she uttered in a frustrated tone, “but do you suppose those fools in that place could tell me anything? One ostler had seen Nathaniel leave. But he could not say whether he had seen anyone with him, and no one observed a woman come to him.” She struck her hands together.
“But it must be so. What else could have occurred? They planned this behind my back, and they have all gone together!”
“But you do not know that, Verena,” objected Osmond.
“Ossie is in the right of it,” said Denzell. “You can be certain of nothing at this present.”