Eye of the Wind (19 page)

Everything she had achieved she owed to him. Without his advice, expertise, and hard physical work she, her mother, and brother would be facing financial disaster and her father’s name and reputation would lie in ruins.

But despite his knowledge and practical experience, the difference in their class and background placed them on opposite sides of an unbridgeable chasm. Were he to share her feelings – feelings his accident had brought into agonising focus – and were they to act upon them, the resulting scandal would bring disgrace upon the whole family, thus destroying everything she had worked so hard to achieve. All her efforts, the appalling risks she had taken, the lies she had told and the brave face that had cost her so much to maintain, would have been for nothing. She would never be forgiven.

Right now she was not sure she cared, for had she not always been an outsider? But he would be forced to leave, the family would see to that. Had he not suffered enough? To admit what she felt would condemn them both. Nor did she know for certain what was in his heart. She sensed attraction, and friendship, and respect. Though she would always be grateful for those, she must never forget the price of seeking more. His face shimmered as her gaze blurred, and she looked away, clinging precariously to her self-control.

On the far side of the room, Lobb folded the towels and old counterpane ready to be taken downstairs for soaking in salt water to remove the bloodstains. It was a maid’s work, but doing it gave him an excuse to stay. As long as he didn’t suggest that she leave, Melissa found his presence oddly comforting.

Gabriel’s frown deepened. His eyelids fluttered. Then, without warning, he sat bolt upright, taut as a coiled spring, eves wide and unseeing. Startled, Melissa gasped. His head snapped round.

‘You!’ he croaked. ‘Where – what –?’ He stifled a groan, his face contorting.

‘It’s all right. You’re safe.’ She leant forward, trying to reassure him. ‘Please, lie down. You’re still very –’

‘Can’t – can’t stay here. Must go.’ Head bowed, his shoulders hunched against the pain, he struggled to get out of bed.

‘Gabriel, you can’t.’ She tried to press him back. ‘You’re hurt.’

Still he resisted, ashen-lipped, his voice a rasp of desperation. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘Miss is right,’ Lobb announced, coming to her side. ‘You couldn’t even stand, let alone walk. So you just lie still now. What with one thing and another, you been through enough,’ he finished gruffly.

Melissa knew she had to speak to Gabriel alone. She glanced round.

‘Lobb, would you be kind enough to fetch the beef tea Mrs Betts promised? And send Agnes up for the washing? If it’s left outside the door there’ll be no need for her to come in. Gabriel will need his clothes to go home in.’

As she had hoped, her final words, hinting at their unexpected guest’s early departure, were sufficient to overcome his reluctance to leave her without a chaperon. As soon as the door closed behind him she knelt beside the bed and looked up into the ravaged face.

‘You
can’t
go back to the shack alone. You’re terribly bruised, and that cut on your head – I think Captain kicked you. You’ve been unconscious for –’ relief that he had finally come round vied with frantic anxiety and a tangle of other emotions to make her voice shake ‘– too long.’

His head swung slowly toward her, his eyes full of anguish. ‘Melissa, I must go. I’ll be all right.’

‘All right?’ The nervous strain was too much. ‘Look at yourself! You’re too weak even to stand.’

‘I can’t stay here. Your reputation –’

She swallowed a sob. He had called her by name and wasn’t even aware of it. ‘With Lobb to protect me? Anyway, my aunts would tell you it’s too late to worry about that.’ She fought to hold her voice steady. ‘If I let you go back and anything were to happen – I can’t, Gabriel. It’s my fault you were hurt.’

‘No.’

‘And my responsibility – as your employer – to ensure you come to no further harm.’ Biting her lip, she stood up. ‘If you’re well enough you may go home in the morning. But you must stay here tonight.’

‘You don’t understand,’ he repeated, in a tone of such torment that her skin tightened in a shiver. Collapsing back onto the pillows, he covered his eyes with a bruised and bandaged forearm as Lobb returned with the beef tea.

‘Now, miss, I expect you’d like to go and change. Sarah has prepared your bath. It will soon be time for dinner.’

Melissa glanced up, startled. Where had the afternoon gone?

‘Don’t you worry about – anything. Gilbert and I will take turns to sit. You go along now.’

Noting how adroitly the butler had avoided mentioning Gabriel, Melissa realised that further private speech would be impossible even if he were up to it. She nodded wearily.

‘Thank you.’ Closing the door behind her, she glanced down, and, for the first time, realised the extent of her own dishevelment, the mud and blood staining her skirt, and the gnawing ache in her strained shoulder.

After soaking in the hot, scented water while Sarah bustled about with pursed lips, radiating unsatisfied curiosity, Melissa sat at her dressing table, eyes closed, as the brush swept through her hair until it crackled. Then, dressed in one of her lavender gowns, a gauze shawl about her shoulders, she walked across to the stables.

Hocking looked up as she entered. Concern deepened the creases in his leathery skin. ‘All right, are you, miss?’

She nodded. ‘What about Captain?’

He gestured toward the stall. ‘Butter wouldn’t melt.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Calm as a bleddy pond he is now.’

Melissa glanced over to where the big horse munched steadily on an evening feed of oats, his coat glossy from a thorough grooming. ‘Was he badly cut?’

‘Not as much as he deserved. A few scratches, that’s all. They’ll heal soon enough. He’s limping on his near fore. I thought a turpentine poultice, and keep him in for tonight?’

When Melissa merely nodded, the groom peered at her. ‘You sure you’re all right?’

Before she had time to respond, the clatter of hooves announced the return of John with Duchess, and Melissa went out into the yard.

‘Yes, miss, we got on fine.’ John slid to the ground. ‘Billy said to tell you the second load went, and the sycamore’s cut but we haven’t shifted it all yet. Ned and Chirp have started widening the track. How’s Gabe, miss? Going to be all right, is he? Only it isn’t the same without him.’

‘He’s – much better, John. I’ll tell him you asked.’

When Melissa returned to the house she met Lobb at the bottom of the stairs.

‘You go on into the dining room, miss. I’ll just tell Mrs Betts you’re back.’

‘What about –?’

‘He’s sleeping now, miss. Had his beef tea and went out like a candle. Best thing. Rest is what he needs. Gilbert is with him. So all you need think about is your dinner.’

If only it were that simple. Something told her the butler knew it wasn’t, but neither of them was going to acknowledge the fact.

‘Thank you, Lobb.’ She made a good meal of spinach soup, roast lamb and green peas, and a strawberry tart. Then, after collecting some sewing from the morning room, she went back upstairs. Gilbert rose from his chair as she entered.

‘Go and have your dinner, Gilbert. I’ll stay and keep watch for a while.’

He hesitated. ‘You sure, miss? Only –’

‘Quite sure,’ she said firmly. ‘Now I’m here there’s no reason for you to stay and miss your meal.’

‘If you say so, miss.’ He left, visibly reluctant, and she knew it would not be many minutes before Lobb arrived to see if she needed anything.

Taking the chair next to the bed, she turned it slightly, so she could more easily see Gabriel’s face. She sat with her sewing untouched on her lap, watching him sleep. But though his eyes were closed, he was certainly not peaceful.

Perspiration filmed his face and the exposed skin of his neck and chest. It soaked the roots of his hair as his head moved restless and uneasy on the pillow. He muttered constantly, his fingers gripping and twisting the sheet, but the sounds were unintelligible.

Suddenly he moaned and shook his head, slamming it from side to side, clearly stressed as he repeated the same phrases over and over again: denying, explaining, only not in English. Fluent in French, Melissa recognised some of the words, but not the dialect. Was he saying “smuggler”?

Behind her, the door opened, and Lobb came in.

Before he could speak, she raised a hand for silence, and turned back to Gabriel as his face changed, fear-filled exhaustion replaced by hauteur, as startling as it was brief. ‘You must allow me this, sir. Honour demands …’ he gasped. ‘I must …’

As his head rolled again, Melissa’s hand flew to her mouth. He sounded so different. His features tightened and his lips drew back, his breath an indrawn hiss through bared teeth.

She glanced at Lobb, whose eyebrows registered his shock.

Gabriel flung up an arm to shield his face. Exhaustion had muted his groans, but the torment in them pierced her very soul. Despite her familiarity with his wild, unshaven appearance, despite their moments of closeness and mutual trust, he was suddenly a stranger. Unnerved, Melissa shivered. Who
was
he? 

Chapter Fifteen

Melissa slept little that night. Her busy brain allowed her weary body no peace. She could not lie still. Twice she got up and pulled back the curtains, gazing out across the park and woods to the moon-silvered waters of the Carrick Roads and the sea beyond. But the tranquil view offered no escape from the images that streamed through her mind: captivating, contradictory, confusing images of the man lying injured and restless in her brother’s bed.

The night hours slowly passed, and eventually sheer exhaustion forced her to stop puzzling over a mystery that defied all attempts at unravelling. But she was still unable to relax. So, instead, she turned her thoughts to what might be achieved.

She owed him so much, and wanted to repay him. It would have to be done in a way that gave no hint of her true feelings. Nor must she intrude on his privacy. As she reviewed possible ideas, one stood out. She examined it carefully, searching for flaws, and found none. It seemed she had found the perfect solution. At last she slept.

It seemed only minutes later that Sarah arrived with her hot chocolate.

‘Morning, miss. ’Tis a lovely one too.’ She swept the curtains back, flooding the room with sunlight.

Melissa pushed herself up on her elbows as she forced open heavy-lidded eyes. ‘Good morning, Sarah.’ Her voice was thick with sleep. ‘Has Lobb been in to see Gabriel yet?’

‘In there most of the night he was, miss, so Gilbert says. Mr Lobb told Gilbert to go to bed and he’d call him to take over in a few hours. Only he never did. I suppose he fell asleep in the chair.’

Melissa sipped her chocolate, remaining silent while her mind raced. Had Lobb simply succumbed to tiredness and the demands of age? Or was his real reason for staying with Gabriel a determination to limit contact, and therefore speculation, even within the household? Only she and the butler had heard Gabriel’s feverish ravings, and seen the startling, if short-lived, switch of personality. Clearly Lobb intended to keep it that way.

Bathed and dressed, her hair in long, loose curls down her back, she left her room and, after hesitating for a moment in the passage, resolutely turned away and went downstairs to the dining-room. Seeing Gilbert waiting to serve her, she realised that Lobb must still be upstairs with Gabriel.

‘Good morning, Gilbert,’ she smiled and took her seat. ‘Scrambled eggs, toast, marmalade, and coffee, please. Then you may go.’

She forced herself to eat slowly. But as soon as she had finished, she went back upstairs. Pausing outside her brother’s room, she smoothed the front of her gown, nervously fingered the pleated gauze at her bosom, took a deep breath, and tapped her knuckles against the panelled wood. To spare each one of them possible embarrassment, she waited for Lobb to open the door.

Though he looked tired he was freshly shaved, his coat and breeches immaculate, his linen pristine. Melissa was both moved and admiring of his determination to maintain standards no matter how demanding or unusual the circumstances.

‘Good morning, miss.’

‘Good morning, Lobb.’ She kept her voice low. ‘How is he?’

‘As well as might be expected, miss. He was a bit restless during the early hours. Got quite upset, wandering in his mind. A few drops of laudanum took care of it and we were both able to enjoy a few hours’ sleep. I decided that as Gilbert was under instructions to wake me should there be a turn for the worse, it was more sensible for me to remain and avoid a lot of disturbance.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you. That was most thoughtful.’

‘Not at all, miss. Last thing we want is gossip and wild talk. Family’s been through enough without that.’ Having delivered what she recognised as an anxiety-inspired warning, he stood back, allowing her to see the bed and its occupant.

Propped up on pillows, Gabriel turned his head. Above the black beard stubble, the upper half of his face was blotched with plum and purple bruises. His blue-grey eyes were shadowed and wary.

‘Good morning,’ Melissa smiled. ‘I hope you are feeling a little better?’

‘Much better, thank you, miss.’ But his voice belied the claim. Lacking resonance, it was little more than a hoarse whisper. Melissa guessed he was in considerable pain. She turned to the butler.

‘I think a hot drink and something to eat, Lobb, then perhaps another dose –’

‘No,’ Gabriel interrupted. ‘It’s very kind of you, miss. But I’ve imposed long enough. If I could have my clothes –’

Melissa ignored him. ‘A tray, Lobb, if you please? And perhaps you would find out if Gabriel’s clothes are dry?’ She turned back to the bed. ‘No one will keep you here against your will. But as it appears that at the moment you can hardly move I think you would be wiser to stay, certainly until you have eaten.’ She heard the door close quietly behind her.

‘Also, I wish – that is –’ Swallowing the sudden dryness in her throat, she walked over to the window and stood beside the curtain, her back to the light so he should not see the blush she could feel creeping, hot and prickly, across her face. ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’

He did not look at her, and remained silent.

‘It occurs to me that, given your knowledge of woodland management, your talents are really not being used to best advantage at the boatyard. I have given this matter careful thought and –’ Overcome by shyness, she half-turned toward the window, entwining her fingers. ‘I was wondering – that is – I should like to offer you the position of estate manager.’

She found herself unable to look at him. When he still said nothing, she hurried on, ‘There would, of course, be an increase in pay, and you would be entitled to one of the estate cottages.’

He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded as harsh and strained as the day they met. ‘It’s a kind offer, miss, and I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful, but I can’t.’

It had not occurred to her that he might refuse, and his words had the impact of a blow. She turned from the window, every muscle tight. ‘May I ask why?’

He glanced at the door and the words burst from him in a fierce whisper. ‘I’m a stranger here. Can you not imagine the comments? What of your family? That you should take such action without consulting them must inevitably provoke shock and censure. Do you not see? The repercussions for you would be –’

She stared at him, startled. Then raised a hand. ‘Please, that is my concern, not yours. But if it will put your mind at rest, I can point out to them that while we wait for George’s return, it is important to keep the estate functioning properly. Your knowledge and expertise will help achieve this. Surely they must recognise the necessity and good sense.’ Would Aunt Louisa ever approve of anything she did? ‘In any case, I am of age and do not require their consent.’

The tightness in her throat cut her short. She rubbed her hands, her palms slippery, her pulse beating loud and quick in her ears. As the silence lengthened she realised how desperately she wanted him to agree.

She accepted that their relationship could never develop beyond what it was now. But he was the first real friend she had ever had and she wanted to show him how much it meant to her. The tension in the room increased. She darted a glance at him and felt her heart clench like a fist at the bleakness in his face.

He would not meet her eyes. When he spoke, he was the public Gabriel: polite, self-effacing and
distant.

‘Thank you most kindly, miss. I’ll help in any way I can until you find a proper woodsman. But I must go back to the yard. Tom Ferris has been very good to me. So, with your permission, I’ll stay in the shack.’

She opened her mouth to argue, to persuade, to plead, when it suddenly dawned on her that she might have made a terrible mistake. The bond between them and the friendship she valued so highly might in fact exist only in her imagination. As embarrassment surged through her in a suffocating wave, she tried to mask it with cool civility.

‘As you wish.’ Refusing to acknowledge the fire in her cheeks or the clammy dampness that caused her clothes to cling uncomfortably, she moved toward the door. ‘Be sure to eat well. It will assist your recovery. If the pain troubles you, tell Lobb, and he will bring you laudanum.’ Her voice broke and turning quickly she left the room.

As the door closed Gabriel shut his eyes: teeth and fists clenched against an overwhelming desire to call out her name, beg her to come back. No drug could ease the pain of hurting her. She saw his refusal as rejection. And he was powerless to explain the real reason: that acceptance would focus too much attention on him and thus increase the risk of his being recognised.

The memory of her beloved face flooding scarlet with humiliation would haunt him for ever. But as an outlaw under sentence of death, he could not – dared not – admit his feelings for her. His suffering equalled, exceeded even, hers. For she was everything he admired, everything he had dreamt and despaired of finding. Yet better he should suffer that than she should be tainted by the scandal attached to his name.

Knowing how much extra work had fallen on the head groom because of John’s absence in the wood, and her own trips to Truro, Melissa declined his offer to drive her over to her uncle’s house in the gig.

‘No, thank you, Hocking. I’d much prefer to ride, and Samson needs the exercise.’

‘If you’re sure, miss.’ Visibly relieved, he didn’t argue and stumped off to fetch Samson’s tack.

She had changed into her black habit and her hair was drawn back into a low chignon. Her eyes were slightly red from her spell of secret weeping in the garden. Of course, Sarah had noticed and asked what was wrong.

‘I’m just tired. There has been so much to do. Then Aunt Louisa … And I suppose too waiting to hear from George.’

‘You’ll hear soon. Bound to,’ Sarah comforted. ‘Bring you some witch hazel for your eyes shall I?’

‘Oh Sarah, I should so much enjoy lying quiet for half an hour with pads on my eyes, but there just isn’t time to spare.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Fresh air will have to do instead.’

‘All right then,’ Sarah said. ‘How about I pin a veil to your beaver hat? Shield your face lovely from prying eyes he will.’

‘What an excellent idea! Aunt Louisa will compliment me on my good sense in taking such care of my complexion. She will also point out that I should have done so years ago, and what a shame it is that I have left it far too late.’ The sigh was so deep it felt as if it came from her toes.

‘’Tis only for a couple of hours, miss,’ Sarah comforted. ‘Then you can come home again.’ She set the hat on Melissa’s head with the veil hanging down over her face, then drew the two long ends up, tied them over the brim at the back and let them hang down to her mistress’s shoulders.

The ride to Gyllan House took almost half an hour. But controlling Samson, who was bursting with energy, allowed Melissa little time to brood on the events of the morning. Though desperately disappointed by Gabriel’s refusal, she clung to the fact that though he had rejected her offer he still wanted to stay on at the yard.

As she trotted up the carriage drive to the front door, a stable boy ran out to take Samson, and Cardew, her Uncle Brinley’s butler, welcomed her.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Tregonning. May I say, on behalf of all the staff, how sorry we were to learn of your bereavement. Allow me to offer our sincere condolences. Your father was a fine man. He will be sadly missed.’

The unexpected tribute provoked a sharp pang of grief. Melissa forced a smile. ‘How very kind. Thank you.’

‘Everyone is down by the lake, miss. Shall I – ?’

‘No, that’s all right, Cardew. I’ll find them.’ She removed her hat – the veil had served its purpose, her eyes no longer felt hot and gritty, and she was away from public gaze now – and handed it to him with her gloves and riding crop. Then she went back out into the sunshine. But the small puffs of cloud were moving faster and beginning to join together.

At the wide steps that led from the upper lawn she looked down toward the wide grassy area edging a reed-fringed lake and her heart sank. Aunt Louisa’s invitations to the rest of the family had clearly been couched in terms similar to a royal decree, for there were at least a dozen people sitting in chairs or on rugs.

All in full mourning, they looked to Melissa like a flock of scavenging crows amid the white cloths spread with dishes of pastries, plates of cakes, and bowls of raspberries and strawberries. There were even fresh peaches from the succession house, a source of great pride to her aunt who delighted in being able to serve at her table a selection of fruits that must, she was convinced, be the envy of her neighbours. Several children were playing under the watchful eyes of nursemaids who maintained a respectful distance from the main group.

‘Ah, there she is!’

Her aunt’s voice rang out like an accusation, and, fighting an immediate and urgent desire to turn and run, Melissa raised a hand, and walked down to join the party.

As she moved around the group, pausing to exchange polite greetings, respond to enquiries after her mother’s health and remarks concerning the delightful weather and wonderful view, she was aware of being watched. It was not one of the sidelong glances, accompanied by a sympathetic smile, of her aunts, uncles and cousins; she was being studied. Then she realised with anger and dismay there was a stranger present.

‘Melissa, my dear, how delightful.’ Remaining in her chair, Aunt Louisa grasped her niece’s hands and pulled her down to kiss the air by her cheek. ‘I knew you would not disappoint us. You can have no idea what a pleasure it is for me to see you here among the family.’

‘Family, Aunt?’ Melissa said quietly, furious that she had been duped.

‘Of course.’ Louisa’s brief frown conveyed surprise and irritation. ‘Did I not say so? Ah. You refer to James. But indeed he is family, Melissa.’ She beckoned to a plump, pleasant-faced man loitering just out of earshot and clearly awaiting this signal.

He was wearing the coat, breeches and boots of a country gentleman. Though Melissa hazarded his age to be approaching 40, his shirt points were starched, his cravat modishly tied, and he had discarded his wig in favour of a fashionable forward-brushed style that curled in front of his ears.