Authors: Anne Ireland
“I fear you forgot your shoulder,” she scolded as she slid from him to lie at his side, her face buried in the dark hairs on his chest, tasting the salt of her sweat and his with her tongue. “I meant to save you pain, but you were too impatient.”
“If you but knew how much I have wanted you,” he murmured against her hair. “When I am myself again, I shall show you just how much I adore you, my love.”
“You must rest now and get strong,” she said, holding him. “Sleep now, my darling.”
“You will not leave me while I sleep?”
“I shall never leave you again,” she promised and knew that even as she spoke, he was slipping away into a restful sleep.
She smiled in the darkness as she held him, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. He was at peace now, and so was she. She would not need to doubt her place as his wife again. It did not matter what others said of her, Paul loved her—and to her surprise, she had discovered that he also needed her, perhaps as much as she needed him.
“You were wrong, Papa,” she whispered into the darkness. “I have found a decent man to love me. And I think he is a better man than you ever were.”
Tears of happiness and love trickled from the corner of her eye as she let the past go finally. There would be no more shame, only the happiness of loving and being loved.
* * * *
Charlotte left them the next morning, for as she said, they were on their honeymoon and did not need her to play gooseberry.
“My advice is to rest here for a few more days,” she told them, tapping Paul playfully on the arm with her fan. “You look better this morning. I believe Hester must be a good nurse. Now, I must go. Remember that you are promised to me for the end of next month.”
Paul stood with an arm about his wife’s waist as they waved her off. Then he looked down at Hester and smiled.
“Your cousin is a sensible woman. I think we shall call our first child after her—Charles for a boy, and of course Charlotte if we have a daughter.”
“We already have a daughter.”
“Yes, but she is called Sylvia, and I do not think we should change that, for there are enough changes in her life. I am sure that you are longing to see her, dearest, and I believe that I may be able to travel tomorrow.”
“Are you certain?” Hester asked, looking up at him anxiously. “I do not want you to make yourself ill. I have waited so many years that I can wait a few days more.”
“I feel much better this morning,” Paul said and dropped a kiss on her nose. “It is being with you, my darling. Yes, my shoulder still pains me, but I am no longer in fear that I may lose you.”
“I should have stayed to comfort you,” she said with some regret.
“You did what you thought right,” Paul said. “I understand and honor you for your decision, wrong as it may have been. Let us speak no more of the past. The future is what concerns us now. It is a pleasant day. Let us go for a little walk. It will give us both an appetite, and we may spend the afternoon exactly as we please.”
Hester saw the mischief in his eyes, and smiled inwardly. She could not doubt that he was on the mend. “Yes, if you wish it,” she said and took his hand. “I am your wife—yours to command as you choose, my dearest.”
“Ah,” Paul said and his eyes danced with laughter. “I think I like the sound of that.”
* * * *
They set out on their journey the next day. It had been decided that they would travel in easy stages, which meant they would be at least four days on the road. Paul rode in the carriage with her for the first two days, but on the third, he decided to ride part of the way on horseback, and Hester joined him.
It was wonderful to be riding together again, even though she noticed that he was a little pale and strained that evening. But in the morning, he was refreshed and again rode for part of the way. They stayed one last night at an inn, sending word ahead that they were to be expected the next morning.
As the time drew nearer for her meeting with her daughter, Hester grew increasingly nervous. What would her daughter think of her? Would she hate her for having abandoned her as a child?
Paul took her hand as the carriage drew up outside his house, which was a lovely Queen Anne building, the roof long and low and thatched. Not a rambling mansion, it was a pretty, family home for which any woman would happily care. Hester knew at once that she would be content here—if only her child would forgive her.
“She is a sweet child despite the hardship of her life,” Paul said. “Courage, my love. I am sure she will adore you, as I do.”
A woman of middle years was waiting with a handful of servants at the front of the house to greet them. Hester was introduced to Mrs. Bradbury and the various maids, Cook, two footmen, and Mr. Hadleigh, a smiling elderly man, not in the least stately, who was the butler. She learned later that he was not above giving a hand wherever needed, for this was a small, close-knit household, which was very different from the house of Paul’s parents.
“Well, there you are, sir—my lady,” Mrs. Bradbury said bobbing a curtsey to her. “Here safe and sound at last. And what’s this we hear, Captain Crawford? You’ve been getting yourself into trouble again, just like when you were a lad. You’d best let me take a look at that shoulder for you, and you shall have one of my special rum possets by and by. That will set you up. We’ll soon have him chipper again, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bradbury,” Hester said. “I fear my husband’s shoulder has been paining him for a while, though he will not confess to it, of course.”
“He was always the same as a lad,” the friendly woman told her, smiling and nodding her chin. “But we shall put him right, my dear.”
Paul looked on, an eyebrow quirked, a quiver of amusement on his lips. “And how is my daughter, Mrs. Bradbury?”
“Why, she’s a little love,” the housekeeper replied. “High-spirited at times and into mischief, but what else would you expect, sir? You weren’t exactly obedient yourself.”
Clearly the household believed Paul’s story. Hester said nothing, for she was new here and must find her way.
“Where is she? May I see her?”
“I thought Miss Robinson would have brought her down to greet us,” Paul said, frowning slightly.
“The child was overexcited, sir. Miss Robinson thought it best that the meeting should be in private, when you’ve had time to settle after your journey.”
“Very well,” Paul accepted the answer with a nod. “We will have some refreshments in the back parlor please, Mrs. Bradbury, and something for the child. Ask one of the maids to step up and beg Miss Robinson to bring my daughter down.”
Hester followed Paul into the house. He led her to a small parlor at the back of the house, which was south facing and looked out on a large and beautiful garden. At the far end of the well-kept lawn, there was a summerhouse, crowded borders of herbs and flowers to either side and here and there an ancient tree. From the direction of one of those trees, the sound of childish laughter came through the open French windows.
“Paul, I believe she must be in that tree,” Hester said, moving towards the open door. “I think Miss Robinson is trying to coax her down.”
“She shouldn’t let Sylvia climb trees.”
“Why not?” Hester said and smiled as he raised his brows. “I did—and I am perfectly sure that you did, my love.”
“That was different.” He laughed as he saw the look in her eyes. “Well, she is your daughter. Go and see what she is up to for yourself if you wish.”
Hester nodded, for it was what she had intended. She went out of the door and began to walk unhurriedly across the lawn. A very anxious-looking governess became aware that her new mistress was approaching, and she bobbed a hurried curtsey and launched into an apology.
“I have been trying to get her to come in and change for the past half an hour, my lady. She is wilful at times, though usually she is very good at her lessons.”
“I am glad to hear that Sylvia is good at her lessons,” Hester said and smiled. “But we all need to play as well as learn, Miss Robinson.” She walked to stand just beneath the tree and look up. Sylvia was perched on a substantial branch just a few feet from the ground and did not look to be in any danger of falling. The child was looking down at her now, her eyes wide and dark with a hint of apprehension. Hester’s throat caught with emotion for she had lovely dark curly hair and a beautiful cream and roses complexion. “Hello, Sylvia,” she said. “Is it nice up there?”
“Yes,” the child called down. “I like trees. They are nicer than people, but Mrs. Bradbury is nice too. She gives me biscuits and milk to drink sometimes.”
“We are going to have some biscuits in the parlor soon,” Hester said. “Would you like to come down and share them?”
“I don’t know. Miss Robinson is cross with me for climbing trees. She might not let me have any biscuits if I come down.”
“Oh, I think she will if we ask her nicely,” Hester said and turned to the apprehensive governess. “I think Sylvia must be forgiven this time, don’t you? I expect she was a little nervous because we were coming.”
“Yes, my lady, if you say so.”
Hester looked up the tree once more. “Shall you come down, Sylvia, or shall I come up there so that we can talk?”
The child tipped her head to one side. “I don’t think you can climb trees, can you?”
“I used to climb them when I was very young,” Hester said. “When I grew up, I decided that I would rather wear pretty clothes. I can climb up to you, but I may tear my dress. Shall I risk it?”
“No, it is too pretty,” Sylvia said and started to scramble down. In seconds, she was standing looking up at Hester and touching the pale green silk of her gown. “I’ve never seen a dress as pretty as this one.”
“I bought it as part of my wedding clothes,” Hester told her. “Do you know, Sylvia, I believe I have some more of this material. We might make a gown for you, if you would like?”
“Could it be just like yours? With sleeves that puff out and ribbons?”
“Yes, if that is what you would like,” Hester said. “But it would not be for climbing trees in you see so you might not like it.”
“I am getting too grown up for climbing trees,” Sylvia said. “What did you do when you grew up, apart from wearing pretty dresses?” She eyed Hester curiously. “Someone said you were going to be my mother. Are you? And is Captain Crawford my father?” Her accent had some rough country edges, but the intelligence shone out of her eyes, making Hester’s own eyes prick with tears.
“What a lot of questions, Sylvia,” Miss Robinson said. “I am sure her ladyship needs to rest after her journey.”
“Oh, I am not in the least tired, though I thank you for your concern, Miss Robinson.” She smiled at the governess and at Sylvia. “Well, when I became too old for climbing trees, I read lots of books, I learned to sew and do embroidery. I played the harpsichord, and I also made sketches in a little book. I liked going for walks. Sometimes I played a game of cricket with my brother—and I learned to dance. That was great fun, Sylvia.” She held out her hand to the child. “Shall we go up to the house now? Your papa is waiting for us—and yes, I am your mama.”
Sylvia gazed up at her. “Are you my real mama—or just someone who pretends to be?”
“I am your real mama,” Hester said. “Can you forgive me for not looking after you all these years, Sylvia? I—I wasn’t well at the time you were born you see, and they took you away from me. I didn’t know, because they told me you had died. It was only a little time before your papa brought you here that I knew it wasn’t true.”
“I have dreamed about you for years,” Sylvia told her, reaching out to take the hand she offered and curl her small fingers about it. “I prayed to God to send you to take me away. I prayed hard, but it never happened—and then one day Captain Crawford came.”
“I expect our prayers are not always answered in the way we think,” Hester said. “But I am here now, and this is to be my home. It is your home too, Sylvia. Sometimes we may go to another place for a while, but even if you do not always come with us, you will be cared for here—and then we shall come back. I promise you that both your papa and I will always look after you and love you.”
Sylvia stopped walking and looked up at her, her eyes wide. “I had a pet mouse once. I fed it and cared for it, and I loved it—but then the man who called himself my father gave it to the cat. My mouse died, and I have never loved anything since.”
“You will learn to be happy,” Hester told her. “We are all here to help you. Mrs. Bradbury, Miss Robinson, your papa, and me. And if you would like a pet mouse, I shall see if we can find one for you.”
“I think I would like a puppy. There are some at the farm down the lane. I asked Mrs. Jackson—she is the farmer’s wife—if I could have one, and she said they were mongrels and she didn’t think Captain Crawford would approve.”
“Who is taking my name in vain?” Paul came out to the terrace to greet them. “Have you seen a puppy you like, you little monkey?”
“Yes, Papa.” Sylvia broke free of Hester and ran to him, laughing as he caught her and swung her off her feet. It was clear that they were already at ease together, though Sylvia had not been certain of her place here. “He is black and white and looks as if he has a patch over his eye. He is what Mrs. Jackson says is the runt of the litter because he is so little—but he licked my face when I picked him up, and he cried when I left him.”