Lovers Forever (42 page)

Read Lovers Forever Online

Authors: Shirlee Busbee

A rueful grin lurking at the corners of his mouth, Nick shook his head, marveling at the effectiveness of the household news-vine—he and Tess had barely discovered the state of their own hearts, and already it was known throughout the court. At least, he thought as he rolled the cart forward, we won't have to make any excuses for our absence tonight—obviously everyone knows what we were doing!
Aside from a little embarrassment about the circumstances, Tess was deeply touched by Pallas's note. Reading it for a second time, after they had enjoyed a thoroughly splendid meal, she said thoughtfully, “She really is impatient for a grandchild, is she not?”
She was sitting in the middle of the bed, the sheet draped across her lower body, her firm little breasts gleaming in the candlelight. Nick lounged beside her with his arms behind his head. His eyes were roving caressingly over those same little breasts, but at her words he glanced at her face and cocked an eyebrow. “You're displeased at the idea of a child?”
“Oh, no! It isn't that,” Tess answered quickly, the thought of his child growing within her making her feel giddy. “I just meant that having a grandchild seems to be of paramount importance to her, and if I do not conceive immediately, I shall feel as if I have failed her.”
A boldly sensual smile curved his bottom lip as he reached for her. Gently kissing her collarbone, he said, “Then we shall just have to do our best to see that you become pregnant as quickly as possible, won't we?”
Her eyes glowing softly, she caressed his dark head. “Oh, yes!”
They made love again, and not long afterward Tess fell asleep cradled in her husband's arms. Sleep eluded Nick, however, and he lay awake in the darkened room for some time, listening to Tess's even breathing. He was far luckier than his grandfather had been, he mused somberly. Not only would he have his love, but he wouldn't have to leave home and hearth and travel halfway across the world to have her, leaving scandal and shame in his wake. His arm tightened around Tess. With his heart full of love for her, he again felt a stirring of sympathy for his grandfather. Would I have made a different choice if I had been faced with the same circumstances Benedict had been? he wondered. He moved uneasily in the bed, knowing the answer, guiltily aware that he would have allowed
nothing
to come between himself and Tess. If he admitted that, how could he continue to blame his grandfather for following his own heart? He scowled, not liking the path of his thoughts, especially when all he wanted to think about was his happy future with Tess.
But thoughts of his grandfather would not go away, and finally he slipped his arm from beneath Tess's head and got out of bed. After dragging on his dressing robe, he lit a candle and left the room.
Traversing the dark and silent house, he went directly to his study. A few minutes later, the diary in his hand, he returned to his bedchamber. After setting the candle by the bedside, he rejoined Tess, smiling faintly as she mumbled slightly in her sleep when he climbed back into bed.
For a long moment he stared at her averted profile, at the straight little nose and soft mouth. His heart felt as if it would burst inside his chest from all the love he felt for her. Almost reverently he touched the heavy mass of thick curly hair that cascaded wildly across his pillow. No, he swore fiercely, nothing would ever come between
them.
Reluctantly he turned away from her and, settling back against the pillows, picked up the diary. Avoiding the last few pages, not wanting to know the precise end of the tale just yet—he
already
knew it ended tragically for his grandmother—he thumbed back toward the middle of the diary until a notation caught his eye: Benedict's emotions on first learning that Pallas was pregnant. Since having read of the birth of his own father earlier in the day, Nick found it interesting to discover his grandfather's musings on the probable sex of the child—and how much he was looking forward to its arrival, be it girl or boy. With Tess sleeping peacefully at his side, the candlelight flickering softly in the darkness, Nick read for quite some time, following the course of Pallas's pregnancy and his grandfather's growing delight, not only in his coming child, but in his young wife as well. The diary was full of Pallas's doings, the way she smiled, her kindness, her sweet laughter, and the increasing pleasure it gave Benedict to be with her, to watch her, to tease her and cosset her, and how very much she had come to mean to him....
A frown grew between Nick's brows. It was plainly evident, to him, at least, that Benedict had fallen headlong in love with his young wife. Nick started as something suddenly dawned on him. For pages now, pages that covered the early months of Pallas's pregnancy, there had been not one word of Theresa, not even
one
reference, and he was puzzled by that glaring omission. Had he skipped over it? It was true that previously he had been reading the diary randomly, jumping backward and forward, skipping pages at a time, following no particular order. But not tonight. Tonight he had started with Pallas's announcement of her pregnancy, and he had read right through the first seven or eight months of her pregnancy... and all during that time there had been no mention of Theresa. Had Benedict simply stopped writing of his assignations with Theresa?
His frown increased, and he backtracked, skimming quickly over the heavy black strokes of Benedict's handwriting. The early months of his marriage to Pallas. The wedding itself. Nothing about his love for another woman. No mention of Theresa. It was as if she had never existed. The diary was full of day-to-day happenings, his grandfather's deepest thoughts and emotions, but nothing about Theresa. How could that be? His fingers turned the pages more swiftly, his eyes flying across the written words. And then he found it.
February 26, 1743:
I just made the most agonizing decision of my life, and though it grieves me unmercifully, I know that it is only right and just. Theresa, her lovely face pale and set, those purple-jeweled eyes of hers full of tears, broached the topic
—
with my wedding set for two months hence, we cannot continue as we are. We cannot meet again privately and continue our intimacies. Ever.
And why? Because of Pallas. None of this is any of her doing, and while Theresa and I can ignore the vows that Gregory forced upon her, neither of us can pretend the same situation exists in connection with my impending marriage. It is true that it was at the urging of my parents and the prodding of the King that I asked for Pallas's hand, but the fact remains, I did ask her to become my wife.
Pallas is an innocent. She is young and beautiful and, as Theresa said, she does not deserve to have a husband who sneaks out at night to lie in the arms of another woman. I am very fond of Pallas and she is to be my bride, my wife, even if my heart is given to another. I must, at the very least, give her the respect and honor due her.
I do not know how I am to face the future without Theresa, but she was right when she said that if we continued to meet clandestinely and ignored my marriage, we would destroy ourselves, that our love would become sullied and tainted. I argued fiercely to the contrary, but eventually she made me see the wisdom in what she was saying—bitter, bitter, though it was.
My heart aches for Theresa, not only because she is my dearest love and I will never be able to hold her in my arms again, but also because
,
while I go to a gentle, sweet bride, she is still chained to that black-hearted monster who ruined our lives. She hates him so, but she also fears him. He has beaten her—she did not tell me, but to my helpless rage, I have seen the bruises upon her lovely body—and he has threatened
repeatedly to send their child, a mere babe, to some distant relatives of his if she does not please him. She seldom speaks of their life together, but I hear of his petty viciousness from others. Only once did she tell me of the nights during which she must suffer his rutting upon her and how she lies there, her body shaking with revulsion. To her relief, he has not touched her for months now, choosing instead to taunt her with his many women, to let her know that he has found her
a poor, wanting thing in his bed. We have smiled over this, knowing how she turns to fire in my arms and how joyous our coupling has been. But no more. Tonight was our last meeting at the gatekeeper's cottage. And while she shall never again lie in my arms, I cannot help but fear what the future will hold for her, married to that monstrous creature. I am helpless to rescue her—since the King forbade me to kill Gregory in a duel, I can do nothing to alleviate her suffering
.
I am full of guilt that my life with Pallas will be so very different—I know that Pallas will make me happy—as happy as I can be under the circumstances. Guilt smites me every time I catch myself smiling at some amusing thing Pallas has said or every time she makes me laugh with her lively antics. I should not be able to laugh, or smile, or take any pleasure in the sweetness of my bride-to-be, and though my heart yearns for Theresa, I find that I do and damn myself a thousand times because of it. . . .
Keeping the place with his finger, Nick closed the book for a moment and leaned back against the pillows. At least now he knew why there had been no mention of Theresa. Benedict and Theresa had stopped meeting. But if that were so, he thought with a scowl, and most of what he had read tonight confirmed it, then how was it that Benedict and Theresa, some nineteen or twenty months later, had run away together—taking the Sherbourne diamonds with them?
The first clue to what must have happened leaped out at him as he came to the entry dated October 1, 1744—about two weeks before Pallas's child was born.
I am the most ignoble and wretched of men. I have betrayed not only myself, but my dear wife as well.
God knows that I did not mean for it to happen . . . but when the note from Theresa came, begging, imploring me to meet with her once more at the gatekeeper's cottage, I could not deny her. I swear upon all that I hold dear that I did not meet with her to taste the forbidden sweetness of her body—that was not in my mind, nor in hers. Theresa was desperate—her face thin, her eyes dark and shadowed—she cannot bear the situation any longer and turned to me to help her escape from her husband. What else could I do, but agree?
I will travel to London at the first opportunity and purchase passage for her and her child to the Colonies. She should be safe there—and beyond Gregory's reach! She did not ask it of me, but I shall also make the necessary arrangements for her to have a generous sum of money at her disposal. She will need it once she reaches the New World—I could not bear the thought of her alone and far away and in need of any sort. It is terrible enough for me to think of her making that uncertain, dangerous journey across the ocean and then forging her way alone in an unknown world, without my making some monetary provisions for her.
We had settled all this and handled ourselves as we should. It was only as we prepared to part that disaster overtook us. Though I longed to do it, I had not touched her, I did not mean to allow desire to rear its soul-destroying head, but it happened. She looked so sad, so forlorn, that I could not control an urge to hold her in my arms and give her what solace I could. I swear that only giving comfort was in my mind, but once I touched her, once she raised her face to mine, we were lost.... Afterward, there was such remorse between us, such horror that we had betrayed ourselves and Pallas and had basely given in to the despised weaknesses of our flesh. When we finally parted, for the first time, there was guilt and deep shame between us.
And now I cannot look my dear, sweet Pallas in the face without pain and remorse surging through me. Her body is greatly swollen with my child, and I damn myself for a craven lecher and writhe inside at the ugly knowledge that I have broken my vows, have blackened my honor and lain with another—no matter what the circumstances. . . . I am the basest of men, but I shall dedicate my life to proving myself worthy of being married to an angel like Pallas. I shall never betray her, nor cause her a moment's pain, again. On my life, I swear it. . . .
Chapter Twenty-five
N
ick stared blackly at the diary, almost as if he suspected the book were playing a trick on him. He
knew
that Benedict and Theresa had run away together, yet Benedict's words seemed sincere.
Impatiently Nick quickly skimmed over the following pages. The trip to London had been delayed because of bad weather and the birth of his son, and it was nearly a month after that meeting with Theresa before he could travel to London. Obtaining passage to the Colonies was difficult this time of year—it was nearly November, and few ships were putting out to sea for such a long journey. But one vessel had been delayed because of refitting and was sailing just after the first of the year. It was the earliest date that Benedict could arrange—any other ships that might have been departing he had deemed unsafe, or he had not cared for the captain or the crews. He was in London for the better part of two weeks, and he had barely returned home and greeted his wife and newborn son when another even more frantic and desperate note from Theresa was handed to him furtively by an anxious maidservant.
The meeting took place once again in the gatekeeper's cottage, and Benedict was both stunned and appalled, not only by the marked deterioration of Theresa's spirits and health, but by the news she gave him.
She was pregnant.
With his child! It could not possibly be Gregory's child—they had not been intimate for nearly six months. She was almost out of her mind, nearly hysterical and terrified that her husband suspected—he had caught her throwing up twice now, and just last night he had commented in an icy voice on her lack of appetite. She had to get away from him
immediately
! If he knew for certain that she was with child, he would kill her. She had to leave now. She could not wait until January.
Aware of a tenseness creeping through his body, Nick glanced at the next entry. Dated two days after Benedict's return from London, November 24, 1744, the entry read:
I have made arrangements with a smuggler I know and trust to transport Theresa and her twoyear-old son, Richard, to France. There has been no time to make any other arrangements. She is terrified of Gregory, and I must get her to safety immediately. There was not even time for me to obtain adequate funds for her, and I am going to have to give her the Sherbourne diamonds, to ensure that she does not go to the continent nearly penniless. In France she can sell the diamonds, and from there she can obtain passage to the Colonies. I will make further arrangements for other monies for her, once I know she is safely away.
I hesitated about the diamonds, they have been in the family for generations, but I shall buy Pallas an even lovelier and more expensive set and present them to her with my love . . . and I do love her. Just as I love Theresa. I love them both, each in different ways, and it seems that all I am capable of doing is wounding both of them. I am not worthy of either one of them, but I shall spend the rest of my life trying to make amends.
I cannot desert Theresa—especially not knowing that she carries my child. I intend to acknowledge the child, and eventually I shall have to tell Pallas. Yet I would do everything within my power not to cause her pain—perhaps in time she will forgive me....
Though it pains me to write these words, it is best that Theresa goes to America. Our love can never be—my life is with Pallas now, and Theresa's life here is a hellish misery. She deserves her chance for happiness, and mayhap in the New World she will find it. I can only pray for that to happen.
I am most anxious—time has fled since I began to write these words. Theresa was to meet me at the gatekeeper's cottage as soon after dark as she could, and from there I was to escort her to the coast and the meeting with the smuggler. It is now after ten o'clock and I fear the worst. I have the diamonds with me, a pair of my fastest horses, and a small, light vehicle standing ready. All is prepared. Except that Theresa has not arrived.
I know the way she was to come—the way she came to me so many times in the past—through the dungeons underneath Mandeville Manor. A long time ago, another lifetime, it seems, when Gregory and I were boys together, we discovered a secret entrance to the dungeons from the outside of the manor. After Theresa and I became lovers, I showed her where it was and she used it, slipping in and out of the manor at will. She was to come that very same way tonight. But she has not.
I must go to her. I must find out what has delayed her. I will wait another ten minutes and then if she has not arrived, I leave to look for her in the dungeons of Mandeville Manor. . . .
It was the last entry in the diary, and Nick closed the book with a snap, his eyes as cold and hard as obsidian daggers.
Silently Tess sat up. She touched him on the cheek, and he turned to look at her, the fierce expression on his face making her heart drop.
“They never left England,” he said thickly. “And Benedict had no intention of abandoning my grandmother—he was going to help Theresa escape and then he was coming back to Pallas.”
“You mean Gregory found them . . . and murdered them?” she asked in dawning horror.
“I'm certain of it. Benedict's last entry states that he was going to Mandeville Manor and that he was going to go into the dungeons to find her.”
Tess gasped, her pupils dilated. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “He had them bricked up.”
“
When?
”
Tess shook her head. “I don't know. A long time ago. Long before I was born or even Hetty was born.” She gave another gasp. “Oh, my God! I just remembered—Meg used to talk about my grandfather having horrible nightmares, of being somewhere dark and cold. He must have been with them when Gregory found them. She was taking her son away with her, but Gregory discovered her. . . .”
They stared at each other for a long time, envisioning what must have happened. . . . Tearing her thoughts away from the ugly pictures in her mind, she said unhappily, “He used to terrorize me when I was little by telling me that perhaps he'd open up the dungeons just to put me in there and then brick them up again. Hetty said he even did the same thing to her when she displeased him as a child—although she indicated that he seemed to take particular delight in using that threat on me.”
“I have to get in there,” Nick said urgently. “I'll either have to find the entrance Benedict used or I'll have to smash through the bricks from inside the manor, but one way or another, I'm getting into those dungeons. I
know
that's where they are—all I have to do is prove it!”
“You're not going to do any such thing,” Tess said vehemently, “and if you don't swear to me right now that you'll attempt no such foolishness, I'm marching right out of here this very minute and going directly to your grandmother—I'll tell her the entire tale.”
Nick eyed her consideringly. Her chin was set at a stubborn angle, and he knew that she wasn't jesting. She would tell his grandmother.
“She'll have to know eventually,” he said carefully. “Once I've found his body—and Theresa's—I intend to give her the diary and explain everything.”
Tess snorted. “Yes, I'd guessed as much, but you don't want her, or anybody else, to know right
now
, and I'm going to tell everything if you don't give me your word that you won't go anywhere near Mandeville Manor by yourself.” Terror peeked out of her eyes. “Avery would kill you if he got the chance—you know he would!” Then she murmured, “Nick, I don't want anything to happen to you—I love you, and I especially don't want history repeating itself.”
Nick sighed. There was enough truth in what she said to give him pause. While every instinct cried out for an immediate resolution of his grandfather's fate, he realized that he couldn't just leap on a horse and go storming over to Mandeville Manor.
“I'd have to wait until Avery leaves for London again anyway—or goes away to visit with friends,” he said thoughtfully. “And to placate you, when we actually break into the dungeons, I'll need help from your aunts and your uncles. . . . The day we plan to storm the dungeons, your aunt Meg can keep my grandmother company while the rest of us return to the manor, ostensibly to retrieve a few personal items that Avery did not send over.” He paused, obviously turning over the various aspects of his hasty plan, looking for flaws. “The servants at the manor,” he began again slowly, “shouldn't give us any trouble—not with you and Hetty along. After all, until a week or so ago, it was your home. At any rate, the only two we'd have to worry about would be Lowell and Coleman, and I'm certain that between your uncles and myself, we can handle them. The other servants will no doubt be pleased to see you.” Nick grinned at her. “They all might think we've gone mad, however, when we decide to open and explore the old dungeons, but they won't prove an obstacle. If they do, I'm sure that you and Hetty can talk them round. As for the bricked-up portion, your uncles and I should be able to make short work of the barrier—we might even enlist one or two of the manor's servants to help us if need be. I doubt the dungeons are very extensive, probably not more than a half dozens cells, if that. It shouldn't take us very long to find what we're looking for.” He cocked a brow at her. “Well, what do you think? Will it work? And will it meet with your approval, Madame Wife?”
“Suppose Avery were to return unexpectedly? Suppose the absolutely worst thing were to happen and he caught us in the dungeons?”
Nick snorted. “Tess, there will be several people who will know where we are, and though he might consider it, he could hardly murder the
five
of us!”
Tess made a face. Nick was right, and she liked the sound of this plan far better, but she was troubled by one aspect of it. “You're going to tell everyone else about the diary before your grandmother?”
Nick shook his head. “No. But I'll have to let the others know what I suspect. They don't have to know precisely
why
I have concluded that Benedict and Theresa never left Mandeville Manor, only that I think it would be a good idea for us to open up those dungeons and discover for ourselves what they contain.”
They discussed the situation for a long time, refining and looking for weaknesses in Nick's plan. Only when the clock on the mantel struck three and Tess had smothered half a dozen yawns did their words gradually dwindle off. A short while later both were sound asleep, wrapped securely in each other's arms.
Freshly bathed and appropriately garbed, they emerged from their bedrooms the next morning just before eleven. As they came down the long, majestic staircase, they found the house bustling with activity. Servants were hurrying in and out of the house, carrying trunks and bags and boxes, and Nick stared mystified after them. What the devil was going on?
Rockwell appeared just then from the morning room. Spying the pair of them, he grinned. “Your grandmother has decided that we're all to go to Cornwall and leave the pair of you alone here. She says that while you might not have gone on a honeymoon, you don't need a bunch of relatives underfoot. Said that she'd like to visit Rockwell Hall again—hasn't been there in years. Good thing you're up—she intends for us to leave within the hour!”
Nick and Tess exchanged a glance of dismay. Under different circumstances they would have appreciated the privacy, but discovering what had happened to Benedict and Theresa was uppermost in their minds. Nick might have wished them all at Coventry a dozen times recently, but right now he needed them. Here—not in bloody Cornwall!
Leaving Tess in Rockwell's company, Nick went in search of his grandmother. He found her in her room, happily supervising the last trunk of clothing she planned to take with her. She looked to be in excellent spirits, her eyes sparkling and her face dimpling with smiles.
“I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier,” she exclaimed once they had greeted each other and he had thanked her for last night's feast. “You and Tess need time by yourselves, and you certainly don't need all of us underfoot right now. It's all decided—the pair of you can join us at Rockwell Hall for Christmas, and then sometime after the first of the year we shall all return home.”

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