Chapter Fourteen
Kieran gripped the back of his chair, ashen-faced at the news. Only the soft snaps of the fire and the rain striking the windowpanes filled those few seconds of silence.
She took a step toward him, but he lifted a hand, sharply, to fend her off. “No!” He regarded her as though he could not focus clearly. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”
Hurt at his rebuff, Diantha swallowed. “Of course, I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He sighed, and it seemed to her that a burden of immense heaviness settled on his shoulders. “Pray for the dead.”
She nodded, unsure of her next course of action.
Barclay’s voice burst through the door. “Kieran!” Anger shaded it now.
She wanted to hold him to her, to comfort him, but he only turned and disappeared into his room. His departure released her from her own state of suspended animation. Going to the bellpull, she jerked it imperiously.
By the time Florette entered, she knew what she wanted to do in the immediate future. “I need to dress, and the table must be cleared away. I should find out if the house has any supplies which can be sent along.”
The Frenchwoman nodded soberly. “Oui, milady.”
Diantha dressed as quickly as she could, feeling remarkably useless. Her father’s company had lost ships only twice in her memory. They had been serious occasions, but had involved no more action on her part than attending the memorial services with her mother.
This would not do. Rising from her dressing table, she moved to her writing desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. She needed a list.
For a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft scratching quill on paper and the clink of dishes. She lifted her head and swiveled around in her chair. Florette had quietly stacked the dishes and stood prepared to pick up a tray.
Diantha regarded her lady’s maid in amazement. “Whatever are you doing? We can summon footmen.”
The older woman’s hands stilled. “I know, milady, but this news has affected many of the servants. Several had friends or relatives on the boats.” She sighed. “Not only that, many large waves hit the town. They fear the town itself may be badly damaged.”
Diantha shuddered, then recollected herself. “I shall leave you in charge of removing the dishes, then. I shall make sure messages have been sent to the rest of the estate and Doctor Andrews. If you need me I shall probably be in the gallery or the drawing room.”
She left her chamber to find signs of panic immediately. Charles, the footman, rushed up the stairs with a housemaid in tow. Seeing her, both came to a halt. The footman apologized for not fetching the dishes from her room earlier, while the young girl beside him tried to choke back her tears.
Diantha took command. First asking Charles if he knew anyone on the missing vessels. At his negative answer, she asked him to take a note to Dr. Andrews in Ulladale. “You will notice it on my writing desk. When you get back from your errand, please come find me.”
He nodded and gave the girl a sympathetic look. “Beattie here is from Cariford, your ladyship.”
As he hurried off, she put her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “My dear, I am so sorry. Did you know anyone on the boats?”
A sob escaped the servant. “Me dad’s a fisherman—and Jamie Cruikshank—we were supposed to be married in the fall.” A lump rose in Diantha’s throat as the slight body shook with weeping. “Please, I must go home. Me mum needs me.”
“Of course, I understand.” Leading the girl to a bench, she held her close and rocked her while she cried.
The door to Kieran’s bedroom opened. She scarcely recognized her husband in the grim-faced man that stalked down the hallway. Dressed in heavy trousers and a thick jumper, he resembled a villager.
For the sake of the girl sobbing on her shoulder, she softly called him. “Kieran?”
He looked at her absently, the way he had when they were first engaged. Her heart failed her before she reminded herself that he had just suffered a shock.
She told the girl’s story briefly. “I told her we could spare her for a few days to go to Cariford.”
“No!” He nearly shouted the word before hunkering down to the servant’s eye level as she sat next to Diantha.
He took her hand until she lifted her gaze to his.
“Beattie, I know you want to go to your mother, and I think you have two sisters as well?” He spoke firmly, but gently.
“Think: all will be confusion for the next few days, and you won’t be able to help.
“Now, if your family needs you, perhaps we can find a place for them near here. Don’t you think that would be better?
” She hiccupped and nodded. “Good girl. Now, go downstairs and have a cup of tea to compose yourself. I’m going to Cariford now and I promise to send word of what has actually happened. ”
The small maidservant heaved herself to her feet. “Thank you, your lordship.” Hanging onto the wall for support, she slowly made her way toward the stairs.
Kieran’s gaze followed her for a moment before he took Diantha’s arm. “Come with me, please.” Opening the door to the nearest room, he drew her inside.
Alarmed at the tightness in his voice, she turned to him as soon as he shut the door behind them. They stood in an unused bedroom. All about them furniture lay shrouded in Holland covers.
He held up a hand before she could utter a word. “I understand you want to help, but under no circumstances should any of the staff be allowed to return to Cariford just now.”
She gaped at him in disbelief. “That is the most inhumane thing I have ever heard!”
He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Diantha, have you ever seen the aftermath of a shipwreck?” She shook her head. “It’s hideous. That poor child is suffering enough. Do you think the sight of her father or her sweetheart after three days in the water will ease her grief?”
His words brought her up short. “I’m sorry, I was stupid.” She grimaced. “I suppose this means you don’t want me there either?”
He placed a hand under her chin and lifted it until she looked into his eyes. They were red-rimmed. “Not stupid. You just didn’t know.” He took a shaky breath. “You have no idea how much I will want you there, sweetheart. But I need you here.”
She did not want to cause a scene, but he was pushing her away once again. “Iona can run the house. Surely there is something I can do to help.”
“There is.” He pulled her into a hard embrace as his lips grazed her hair. The rough wool sweater prickled against her cheek as he took a near-sobbing breath. She wondered why as he spoke. “Look after my mother. And stay here. I need you safe.”
He tilted her head back, fingertips brushing her cheek. Kissing her deeply, as if he wanted to take her breath with him, he then let her go. With a last look and a shaky breath, he left.
The next morning dragged past. Diantha divided her time between her mother-in-law’s room and the gallery, where Iona sat near the great window at the far end. Barclay disappeared into the estate office.
When he did emerge for luncheon, he spent most of the meal frowning down at his plate. Only the two of them sat in the main dining room, for Iona had retired with a headache. Further, she had ordered that until the household returned to normal, servants need only wait on the family at dinner.
Polite conversation struck her as frivolous under the circumstances, so Diantha too ate in near silence.
She eventually brought up the possibility of preparing a wagon of supplies from the house to send on to Cariford.
Barclay stared at her abstractedly before giving an impatient shake of his head. “Unnecessary. My cousin will send for them if they are required.” With that, he returned to his cold chicken.
His snapped reply nettled her, but she reminded herself that the loss of the fishermen would hit him harder than it had her. Before leaving the dining room, he apologized in his usual quiet manner.
Diantha regarded him sympathetically. “I beg you, not to dwell on it. We must all feel for those poor men and their families.”
He stood looking down at her as though he wanted to say something. With the air of a man making up his mind, he took a deep breath. “I fear Kieran’s involvement in the village is far more personal than mine.”
She cocked her head, confused. “I’m sure it is; he cares greatly for Duncarie and its people.”
With a harsh cry, he gripped her shoulders. “You don’t understand! Kieran has near relatives in Cariford.” He looked at her meaningfully. “Young relatives.”
Feeling faint, she pushed back from him slightly. He released her shoulders at once and helped her to the nearest chair. Pulling another out, he faced her, taking her hands in his.
He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. “My dear Diantha, forgive me. To have given you such a shock on top of this disaster is unconscionable.”
Her entire face seemed to have coalesced into stone. Removing her hands from his grasp, she straightened her back. “Tell me.”
Barclay spoke gently. “My cousin takes after his father, not only in how he manages his estate, but in his fondness for women of a certain class.”
Her heart beating painfully, she nodded. “I see.”
He sat back with an expression on his face that she would have described as ludicrous at any other time. “You do?”
Almost violently, he pushed himself to his feet and paced away from her, knuckles pressed against his mouth.
“My God, that swine.” Whirling, he faced her again.
“I have felt a certain amount of sympathy for you ever since he brought you here. The man has some appetites that hardly bear thinking of, and that a lady should be subjected to his rutting—it is unconscionable.”
Remembering the lovemaking she and her husband had shared yesterday by the loch, she kept her gaze fixed on her clasped hands. “In other words, it may be for the best that he goes to common women to relieve his more base wants.”