Beloved (24 page)

Arabella was worried. While preparing their meal she’d decided she would beg him to let her stay, even if it meant never seeing the children. The extra money she made would at least assure them of a good home and adequate food. She was also saving against the day she would be able to send them to school and putting aside a little, as well, for a dowry for Luisa. Arabella was determined that neither of her children would be forced to live as she had.

Richard came through the door and Arabella was instantly on her feet, then dropped into a curtsy.

“Signore
.
”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find a shirt,” he said, fastening the button at his wrist.

“Forgive me, Signore
.
I was mending some things, and airing your room. I don’t have everything back in place yet. I will do it tonight.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not important.”

He pulled out her chair for her, and reluctantly, Arabella sat down. It made her feel strange when he treated her so formally. Richard poured her glass full of wine, then his own.

“Bella, tell me about these children of yours.”

“Signore
,
I’m sorry. I should have told you before, truly, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want me to work for you. This job is very important to me. Please, if you want, I won’t see the children at all, but I want to work for you, Signore
.
Please.”

“Bella, I’m not upset about the children,” Richard said as he put down his fork and reached for her hand. “I just wish you’d told me. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have them here with you all the time.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Why don’t you move into my mother’s room? Her dressing room is large and should make a nice room for the children.”

“Signore!” Arabella was astonished.

“Bella, I’m happy to have them here, really. Get Tomas and Alfredo to build some beds for you and buy whatever else you need. Please.”

“I don’t know what to say.” She was stunned by his generosity.

“There’s nothing to say. I’ll be leaving again in two weeks, so let’s see if we can’t get them settled before then.”

It was late, but Richard wasn’t asleep. The rain fell softly against the roof tiles and an occasional thunderclap could be heard in the distance. But it wasn’t the weather that kept him awake. The inactivity of the past few days had allowed him too much time to think, and his thoughts were of Christina.

For the past three months, the hard labor aboard ship had occupied both his mind and his body during the day, and most nights, exhausted, he’d been able to sleep. But after four days at home on Corsica, his mind was once again filled with painful memories. The knowledge that Christina had wed another man haunted him. Neither the hard work on the ships nor his new home on Corsica could distract him. Even the lovely Arabella and her precious children somehow seemed to remain outside his heart.

It had been raining since the middle of the afternoon, but Alfredo had built a fire that evening, which had thoroughly warmed the room. The stone walls held the heat and even now, long after the fire had burned itself out, the room was still much warmer than Richard was accustomed to.

He lay staring into the darkness, his naked body barely covered by the linen sheet. Preoccupied with thoughts of Christina, he nonetheless heard the soft tapping on his door.

“Come,” he said quietly.

The door opened and Arabella entered, the halo of her soft brown curls illuminated by the dim light in the hall. She closed the door behind her, and then crossed the room silently. As she passed the foot of the bed, the draft from the window brought the sharp scent of bergamot to Richard.

“Bella?” he said, sitting up. “Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she whispered as she stood beside the bed.

Richard waited. For a full minute she just looked at him. Then, very slowly, she slipped her robe from her shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving her naked, her pale skin glowing in the dim light.

His breathing quickened. He tried to see her face. Reaching out, he gently took her trembling hand in his.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked softly.

“I’m sure,” she whispered.

As she bent down to kiss him, her ample breasts brushed his chest. Their lips met and Richard slid his arm around her, gently pulling her down beside him.

Later he lay holding her, his cheek against the softness of her citron scented hair.

“Signore?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do I please you?” she asked, fingering the gold chain around his neck.

“Of course you please me, Bella.”

“I mean here, now, in this way?” she said, raising up on one elbow in an effort to see his face.

He ran his fingers gently over her breasts, then pushed the soft curls back from her face. “Yes, in this way, too. But I’m not sure this is right for you. You deserve more than I can ever give you.”

“What you give me is so much more than I deserve.”

“I can’t ask this of you…”

“Then let me ask it of you.” Arabella’s mouth covered his.

Et si je savais que mon amour soit heureuse? Me servirait-il raison suffisante

Que je fasse durer encore ma vie?

—Avezard

And knowing my Love content, is that alone reason to endure?

Octobre 1756

Bonifacio

It was late October and the midday sun bathed the southern tip of the island in a bright clear light. Richard had been back at sea for a little over a month, and Arabella’s day was spent, as were all the others when he was away: the children were down for a nap and she was working in the little garden outside the kitchen door.

The three years in Richard’s employ had been the happiest and most carefree Arabella had ever known. The position as housekeeper had taken her away from her sordid existence at the inn and given her back her children. Though Richard spent the majority of his time at sea, when he was home she did everything in her power to please him. He, in turn, seemed to enjoy the children and always treated her with unfailing kindness.

The sound of the mule’s hooves as it scrambled up the steep cobbled path to the cottage attracted her attention. There was rarely any reason to bring an animal larger than a donkey up the steep, narrow track. She rushed to the front of the house, opening the gate just as the breathless rider flung himself from his exhausted mount and stumbled into the courtyard.

“Signora! It’s Signore di Magniet!”

“What?” She grabbed the young man by the shoulders. “What is it?”

“He’s been hurt…badly. Some of the men are bringing him up.”

She pushed past him, running out of the courtyard and across the track to the low stone wall. Looking down, she could see the two-wheeled cart just beginning the climb. There were five men surrounding it, pushing, urging the plodding donkey on, as they yelled directions at each other.

Knowing it would be a few minutes before they could complete the climb, she ran back into the house, pushing furniture to one side or the other so that the path was cleared to Richard’s bedroom. She threw back the curtains and opened the window and the shutters, then pulled the heavy bedcovers back from his bed. Taking a fresh linen sheet from the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and folding it double, she threw it across the bed.

Arabella hurried back through the house to the kitchen, calling out the door for Tomas and Alfredo. Then she gathered a pile of rags and dipped a large pitcher full of water, quickly fillimg the big copper kettle and hung it over the small fire that was burning in the fireplace. She added more wood.

As the two men came in from the yard, she was heading toward Richard’s room. She shouted back over her shoulder, sending them to the front of the house to see if they could help.

Arabella joined them by the time the cart arrived and she took over immediately, giving directions to the group of men as they lifted Richard and carried him to his room.

“What happened?” she asked as she led them through the house.

“The ship was attacked by the English just off Ibiza five days ago. Half the crew was killed. Monsieur Magniet was wounded, but he seemed all right until yesterday. Then he collapsed.”

Richard was unconscious. Arabella, eyeing his filthy torn shirt and breeches, threw an additional old coverlet across the bed before they laid him down. She began to cut off the remains of his clothing, leaving only the gold chain he always wore. The men stood silently around the bed, nervously watching as she deftly parted the dirty fabric with a sharp knife.

“Help me,” she said. “Lift him.”

They did as they were told and she pulled the pieces of material out from under his body. Next she carefully began sliding the knife under the layers of blood-encrusted bandages that circled his chest and stomach. As she slowly pulled the stiff material away from his skin, the men turned their heads, partly from the stench of the old bandage and partly from the ghastly appearance of the wound.

“Tomas, get the hot water from the kitchen,” she said briskly.

Anxious to be excused, Tomas left instantly. He was back in moments with a kettle of warm water. Arabella began to gently cleanse Richard’s body, slowly working her way toward the angry red gash that ran from the left side of his chest to just in front of his hip bone. The men in the room, uncomfortable witnessing her ministrations, turned to go.

“Wait,” she said, not looking up. “Two of you will have to stay to help me.”

There was an unvoiced agreement and all but two of the men filed out of the room. Tomas and Alfredo remained, awaiting Arabella’s directions.

As she painstakingly washed the dirt and dried blood from the area surrounding the cut, she was able to better gauge the seriousness of the wound. The bandaging had been carelessly done and she could see that the upper part of the slash had gone clear to the bone, his ribs apparently deflecting the blow. There was still a little bleeding in that area. Along his side, the flesh had started to mend in places, but she didn’t like the look of it and wondered how deeply he’d been cut below his ribs and if there was any internal damage.

When she laid wet clean rags over the wound, Richard groaned softly, but he did not regain consciousness. She could feel the fever in the heat of his body and see the infection in the tightly stretched skin on both sides of the lower portion of the gash. She was loath to disturb the already closing flesh, hoping against hope that his body would be strong enough to fight off the contamination.

Arabella had the men lift him as she pulled the coverlet and the remains of his clothing and bandages out from under him. They laid him back down gently and she covered him with another linen sheet. Richard hadn’t moved since she started to wash his wound. She lay her hand against his face and once again felt the tremendous heat of his fever. For the moment there was nothing more she could do.

She dismissed the two men from the ship, leaving Tomas to stay with him. She had Alfredo remove the dirty linen while she went into the morning room where Richard kept his modest library. She pulled two of Robert’s handwritten volumes down from the shelf and began leafing through them, sure she knew what she was looking for.

Robert had kept detailed notes of his personal studies over the last twenty years. He’d made two copies of the information, wanting to share with his brother some of the knowledge he’d acquired. Robert was aware of Richard’s interest in the healing arts, and knew he’d have use for many of the more common remedies aboard the ships. Richard shared the books with Arabella, as he had all the others. He’d helped her with her reading and with her French, encouraging her to explore his library, even sending for more volumes he thought might interest her.

She’d been a willing student, but had been particularly interested in Robert’s studies. She had a modest reputation in Bonifacio as a healer and possessed a formidable knowledge of local cures, which she’d learned from her aunt. She’d eagerly added Robert’s information to her own, and had even shared a few local cures with Richard, who had in turn sent them on to his brother.

Arabella found the notation she was looking for and quickly read through it, then went to the kitchen and the small cupboard high on the wall where she kept the herbs and powdered concoctions from Robert’s stores and her own. Gathering the necessary components, she deftly wrapped them in a small scrap of cloth, tying it tightly with a piece of thread. She placed the pouch in the simmering kettle, and went back to Richard.

Tomas was sitting beside the bed, intently watching his master. His worried look immediately told Arabella that Richard’s condition had not changed.

“Tomas, I want you to take the children down to Sophia’s and ask her if she’ll keep them for a few days. Tell her I need to borrow the healing bag and bring it back as quickly as you can.”

Without saying anything, Tomas nodded to her and left. Arabella took his place beside Richard.

It was nearly an hour before Tomas returned and in all that time Richard hadn’t moved. Arabella hurried back to the kitchen. She poured the concen-trated tea into a cup and returned to Richard’s room.

“Thank you. I’m afraid you and Alfredo will be on your own for supper.”

Tomas nodded. “We’ll be fine, Signora
,
” he said, his voice full of concern. “Will he be all right?”

“We must pray for him, Tomas. We must all pray for him.”

“
Si,
Signora,” Tomas replied. Then he was gone.

She bent over Richard, removing the cloth from his forehead. He was still burning with fever. She leaned across him and slipped her arm under his shoulders to lift him as best she could, putting the cup to his lips. She tipped it, allowing a small amount of the liquid to flow into his mouth. Nothing happened. She tried a little more. At last he swallowed. She continued with the tea, slowly urging him to take it, until the cup was half empty.

Arabella watched him, not liking the signs she so easily read. He should have regained consciousness, if only for a few minutes. The infection was spreading. If the blade had damaged any internal organs or pierced his intestines, she knew there was little hope he’d recover.