Chapter 15 #3
“The passengers were being sent out to swell the numbers of British there, but they weren’t a salubrious lot.
They were the scaff and raff, many of them fleeing before the law.
There were some young women going out to look for husbands, mostly because they’d already lost their virtue.
Some were with child. One in particular caught my attention.
We became friends in a way.” He looked at Eleanor quickly.
“Platonically, I assure you. In helping her after the child was born, I learned something of babies. Mary was more gently bred than the others, so they were unfriendly to her. She was ill after the confinement. If I hadn’t cared for the child I think they’d have dropped it overboard. ”
Eleanor could tell there had been something of her in this woman. She felt no jealousy, just a realization that Mary’s fate could well have been her own.
“When we docked in Cape Town,” Nicholas continued, “I was dirty, disreputable, and virtually penniless. All I’d had to begin with, after all, was a few items of jewelry and my silver buttons, and the captain had demanded most of that to pay for food and some extra clothing.
He was a little generous with me because he was short-handed, and I was willing to play crew when necessary.
“I cleaned up enough to get some clerking work until I got a message to the governor, Lord Charles Somerset. Fortunately, we’d met once, and so I didn’t have to prove who I was, but he obviously thought I was a damned queer fish.
He lent me some money and arranged passage home for me on a fast frigate.
I gave most of the money to Mary for a dowry, to help her find a good husband, and then set sail. That is my story.”
“What I don’t understand,” said Eleanor, “is why Madame Bellaire didn’t realize you would come home one day and tell me this.”
“She is a different kind of woman, Eleanor, and not, in fact, one who understands the others of her sex. She expected you would refuse to see me. At the best she hoped you would give me up for dead and marry again. I was lucky in knowing Somerset and finding transport home so easily. It could well have taken much longer.”
“She also forgot you were a twin,” said Eleanor.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow in query and she explained about Lord Stainbridge’s lack of anxiety.
“I never thought of that. She probably also didn’t take into account that I am the kind of bold soul who would just come down here and walk into your bedroom.”
“If we are to act as devil’s advocate,” broke in Miss Hurstman, “I am forced to say that most of your story could be complete fabrication. We know you have considerable powers of dissimulation. Perhaps you decided to frolic a while longer with your mistress and then finally tired of her. Or perhaps not even that. Perhaps you have returned to sweet-talk your wife and then intend to indulge your addiction to traveling again, rejoining Madame Bellaire at some point on the globe.”
Eleanor had stirred in instinctive protest, but Nicholas seemed unmoved. “I know it’s virtually impossible to prove what I say. I did, however, take the precaution of obtaining a document from Somerset vouching for my presence.”
He went to a desk and took out a paper. He gave it to Eleanor. Eleanor broke the seal and unfolded the document.
Miss Hurstman craned forward. “It certainly looks official enough.”
Nicholas took out another, similar document. “So does this.” He passed it over. “I obtained that one in London without showing the forger the original.”
It was different, but just as impressive.
Eleanor laughed a little shakily. “Really, Nicholas, there are enough prosecutors without you adding your mite. What is Africa like?”
His eyes warmed at her acceptance. “Pleasant enough, but I wanted to be home.”
Eleanor looked away. It was going too fast. Perhaps she was succumbing too easily.
A discussion about details flowed around her, but she hardly paid attention.
She believed his story, and he couldn’t really be blamed for the debacle at the end.
He’d spoken the truth, however, when he said those months of pain and confusion that had been their marriage had been the result of his arrogance.
And now he was pleasingly contrite—and so damned confident.
Suddenly she had to pay attention again. Lord Middlethorpe was speaking. “Well, Eleanor, I don’t think anything can be added.”
She looked around. She could read on their faces, in their relaxation and good humor, that they all thought they knew what she was going to say. A spark of resentment took fire within her.
“Yes, Francis, you’re right,” she said levelly.
“But I need time to consider. My confinement was very recent, and my emotions are still sensitive. Nicholas will understand that, I think.” She swallowed and summoned her courage.
“I would like him to go away,” she said, not addressing or looking at her husband.
“For … three weeks.” She had in fact meant to say a month, but her nerve failed her.
She could feel the shock from all of them, and a glance at her husband’s face revealed a tightening there. His voice was calm, however, when he spoke. “Of course. I should go and see Kit, anyway. I can carry news of his niece.”
“As you wish,” said Eleanor, feeling unreasonably that he might have protested or tried some of his clever persuasion. As decisions went, this one was hardly a success. It had pleased no one, least of all herself. She was in danger of weeping.
“I should retire,” she said, and stood. She wanted to escape, but then again, she didn’t. Against her better instincts she held out her hand to her husband and he led her from the room.
“Oh, dear,” said Amy. “I believed him, didn’t you, Peter?”
“We all did, dear,” said Miss Hurstman, “including Eleanor. But she’s within her rights. We must hope his nerve will hold.”
“Are you sure?” asked Lord Middlethorpe seriously.
The older woman sighed. “I hope to God I am.”
Nicholas and Eleanor ascended the stairs in silence.
Eleanor couldn’t think of a thing to say.
She’d as good as struck him in the face.
They went into the nursery and looked down on the peaceful babe and then moved through into Eleanor’s room, the master bedroom, where he did not sleep.
She realized she didn’t know where he slept. It was not an appropriate time to ask.
“I suppose I should see to hiring a replacement nurse,” she said at last, relieved to have thought of an impersonal topic. “I don’t think there’s another experienced woman free locally. Perhaps you might find someone in London.”
“I believe our old nurse is still at Grattingley. She’s a pensioner there but still had all her wits the last time I saw her. After all, you’ll only need a temporary replacement.”
Eleanor bit back an urge to correct him. We will need…
“Yes, that will be best.”
There was a vibration between them. It disturbed her. It drew her. She looked up at him seeking something, she was not sure what. She saw it deep within his eyes. A need, a vulnerability. What would happen if she went into his arms now?
Could he stay detached and in control of himself and the situation then? She realized she resented his control.
She distrusted it.
She wanted to destroy it.
His lids lowered, but he came closer and put a gentle finger beneath her chin. “Courage Eleanor, for both our sakes.”
She read in his eyes the reassurance she wanted, that she had not known to ask. The need was real. If she sent him away he would go, but if she summoned him back he would return.
Perhaps he too found the moment difficult, for he moved away and sought an unemotional topic. “The family usually gathers at Grattingley for Easter. I assume we will not go with Arabel so young.”
All her anger returned. He was pretending to bow to her will, but assuming it would all be as he intended in the end.
As always.
“You must decide for yourself, Nicholas. I will let you know later what Arabel and I will do.”
He paled and looked as if he would speak. Then he took his dismissal, closing the door quietly behind him.
Eleanor lay on her bed in dry-eyed misery.