Redemption of a Fallen Woman (16 page)

For a moment or two he watched her, grim-faced. Then he leaned against the tree and swore under his breath. He shouldn’t have let her go like that and he knew it. She’d tried to make a conciliatory gesture which, after what had passed between them, must have taken a good deal of courage, and he’d behaved churlishly. He’d avoided her all day but it hadn’t helped because he could think of nothing else. Elena had got under his skin in all sorts of unexpected ways. It hurt to know that she didn’t trust him yet but he knew the reason, so why was he reacting like this? She wasn’t ready to consummate their marriage, that was all. He should have kept a sense of proportion. The fact that he hadn’t been able to made him angry, but not with her. He wanted her badly, but his need was about a lot more than physical pleasure. Now, in an act of unparalleled stupidity, he’d allowed his pride to drive her away.

Chapter Sixteen

I
n spite of everything else, weariness won out that night and Elena was asleep within minutes of her head hitting her improvised saddle pillow. She slept deeply and dreamlessly and didn’t stir again until after sunrise. When she opened her eyes it was to see Harry bearing a mug of tea. For a moment she stared at him in silent bemusement and then saw him smile.

‘Good morning. I won’t ask if you slept well since I know that you did.’

‘I went out like a light.’ She propped herself up on one elbow. ‘What time is it?’

‘Almost seven.’

‘Seven! Heavens, you should have woken me.’

‘You looked too peaceful to disturb. Besides, you were very tired last night.’

‘Yes, but even so...’

‘An hour isn’t going to make much difference in the great scheme of things.’ He bent down and handed her the tea. ‘Here. It’ll warm you up.’

As she took the mug her fingers brushed his, a casual touch that brought other thoughts to mind. It was hard to reconcile the man before her with the cold and distant being she had spoken to before.

She eyed him obliquely. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well, I thank you.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry I was short-tempered last night.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Yes, it does. My behaviour was churlish in the extreme.’

‘You were tired too. It doesn’t help.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘No, it doesn’t. All the same, I apologise.’

‘Apology accepted.’

‘Thank you.’ He squeezed her arm lightly and then straightened. ‘Drink your tea. Then we’ll be on our way.’

With a rather lighter heart Elena stowed her things and prepared to ride. Concha saw the alteration at once.

‘You are feeling better today, I think.’

‘Much better.’

‘A good rest puts everything in perspective, no?’

Elena nodded. ‘It certainly helps.’

She thought back to her conversation with Jack. That too had lent things a different perspective, although she didn’t know how best to make use of the information. Now that the
status quo
had been restored she didn’t want to unbalance it again. All the same the past could not be ignored when it impinged on the present and threatened to blight the future. While she admired Harry’s courage and his evident loyalty to those he loved, she could not bear to think that he should blame himself for what had happened.

With a sudden flash of insight she understood how she might, unwittingly, have contributed to his state of mind. Did he believe that she held him partially responsible for what had happened at Badajoz? After all, when he had needed her trust she had not given it. That begged the question, why? When she had panicked was it not because she had unconsciously equated an act of love with an act of violence? What did that say about her deeper feelings for Harry? The insight did not make for comfortable viewing.

‘Now you look worried again,’ said Concha.

‘The thought of throwing away happiness does worry me.’

‘Why would you? Rather you should embrace the chance.’

‘I know, but I cannot.’

Concha didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘It was always going to be difficult, but surely not insurmountable.’ She paused, darting a glance ahead to make sure that the men were out of earshot. ‘He does not blame you for what happened.’

‘No. I think the boot is on the other foot.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’

‘When he told me that he was at Badajoz my first reaction was to see him as a British soldier.’

Light dawned in Concha’s face. ‘And because he was a British soldier he must be equally guilty?’

‘Something like that.’

‘But he tried to stop the atrocities.’

‘I know, but part of my mind still resented him being there at all.’ Elena sighed. ‘Oh, heavens, I’m not even making sense to myself.’

‘That is because it doesn’t make sense. His Lordship is not as those others. He is an honourable man, I believe.’

‘So do I.’

‘Well, then, should you not trust him?’

There was only one answer to that. Elena knew full well that Harry could have used force that night in Seville. It was his right yet he had not done it.
I won’t hurt you
. Those words were more than an idle promise; he had meant them. He had offered her a glimpse of something extraordinary and unexpected and she had turned back from that threshold because she hadn’t trusted him. The knowledge did nothing to mitigate shame.

‘This is such a mess and now I don’t know what to do about it.’

‘Do you care for him?’ asked Concha.

‘Yes.’

‘Then you must show him that you do.’

‘I don’t know how.’

‘Follow your instinct. It will guide you more surely than words ever could.’

Elena thought hard about that as they rode along. She had no skill in the art of flirtation; the past four years had been spent keeping men at bay and she had become good at it. If she tried such feminine wiles with Harry might he not take it as mere teasing? In the light of recent events he could hardly do other and it likely wouldn’t go down well at this juncture. If she were to lead him on and lose her nerve again it would be disastrous. She had already hurt him and didn’t ever want to do it again. Some feminine instinct would have been mighty useful, but hers seemed to be non-existent.

Over the next few days their relationship returned to a more level footing but he made no attempt to renew his attentions to her. When they spoke it was as friends and usually on practical matters. Sometimes she would catch him watching her but his expression was always unreadable. Was he regretting their marriage now? What would happen when they got to England? A man like Harry would never lack for female attention. The fear returned that if he did not get affection and warmth from his wife he would find it elsewhere. Plenty of marriages were matters of convenience only where the couple observed the outward forms while they conducted private affairs. The idea was chilling. Dolores and her husband did not live like that; they were happy together and proud of their young family. Elena had never considered having children before but now the idea was oddly appealing. Of course, that presupposed other things... Out of nowhere came the recollection of Harry’s kisses, of his hands caressing her naked skin, and a pool of warmth formed in the centre of her pelvis.

‘A penny for them.’

A familiar voice jerked her back to reality and she realised that he had brought his horse alongside unnoticed. A rosy flush dyed her cheeks. ‘Oh, er, I...I was just thinking about my sister in England.’

He registered her heightened colour with quiet appreciation and wondered what had occasioned it. Aloud he said, ‘You must be looking forward to seeing her again.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Well, there is no reason why we should not visit her in Hertfordshire. It’s on the way to Castonbury.’

‘I have yet to meet my nieces and nephew. Indeed, at one time, I did not think that I ever would.’ She smiled reflectively. ‘It is hard to live so far from the people one loves.’

‘You will have much to tell each other.’

‘Yes.’ His words were an understatement if ever she had heard one. ‘And with any luck you will have much to tell your family.’

‘I am more hopeful than I was.’

‘Perhaps this coming talk with Sanchez will provide a kind of closure.’

‘I think it may. Ordinarily a funeral would do that, as with my younger brother, Edward.’

‘A grave leaves no room for doubt, does it?’

‘That’s well put.’

‘I saw the rioters shoot my father but it wasn’t until I stood beside his grave that my heart knew he was really gone.’

He returned a wry smile. ‘I know what you mean. It’s the last point of reference, isn’t it? We were able to mourn Edward. My father still does. Jamie has no grave—who knows where his remains may be? All we have of him are memories.’

‘And his son.’

‘Yes, his son.’

‘Surely the family will love the child to honour the memory of his father.’

When he thought back to his former conversation with Ross, Harry felt a twinge of guilt. The best he could say was that the family were keeping an open mind, but
love
was not the foremost word he’d have used to describe their reaction to learning of the child’s existence. Fortunately the boy was too young to notice such things, but as he grew up it was going to matter a great deal.

‘Children need affection if they are to thrive,’ she went on, ‘and, in the absence of a father, strong male role models.’

‘You speak knowledgeably.’

‘It’s only common sense. How can a boy become a well-balanced man if he has no male guidance?’

‘Good point.’ Harry reflected that it was also a point he was going to have to address. Jamie would have done no less had their positions been reversed.

‘It is hard to lose a parent like that when one is too young to remember. The child will only know his father as a result of what his mother tells him.’

‘From what you say I must infer that you like children.’

‘Of course. Don’t you?’

‘Yes, although I confess my experience has been limited—thus far.’

She was suddenly aware of other implications beneath this conversation. One day Harry was going to want an heir. What man did not? After Badajoz it had been her greatest dread that she might be pregnant, but that fear at least had not been realised and it had not been relevant since. The notion that it might become relevant no longer repelled her. The thought was disturbing but somehow not displeasing.

‘Then you wouldn’t mind broadening your experience?’ she asked.

The question took him aback but a swift sideways glance revealed that Elena’s expression was quite innocent, or apparently so. He suppressed a smile.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘I wouldn’t mind at all.’

Although they had initially been following the river, they were eventually forced to make a detour to avoid a large expanse of salt marsh, a region known locally as Las Marismas. However, the lower-lying countryside was undemanding compared to the mountainous regions they had traversed earlier. Unfortunately the weather, which had been pleasantly warm, gradually changed and became overcast. As the day progressed the cloud on the horizon became as dark as a bruise.

‘Looks like we’re in for a spell o’ damp,’ said Jack.

‘We’ll find somewhere to stay tonight,’ replied Harry. ‘According to the map it’s not far now to Villafranca.’

In this he was correct. However, the only available accommodation was a ramshackle inn that would never have figured on Don Manuel’s list of recommendations. For a start it had no individual bedchambers for its guests, only a communal dormitory beneath the rafters. The
patrón
informed them that several of the low cots were already taken and, Harry guessed, all by men. Had he and Jack been alone it wouldn’t have bothered him in the least. They’d slept in far worse places. With two women along, and one of them his wife, his response was different.

‘I can’t subject you to this,’ he told Elena.

‘Subject me to what?’

‘To sleeping in this.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she had spent years sleeping in similar accommodation, but decided it would be impolitic at this point.

‘It’s not ideal but at least it’s dry,’ she replied.

‘Not ideal? There’s an understatement if ever I heard one.’

She bit back a smile. ‘If we take four beds together you and Jack can take the outer ones and we the inner two. That way we’ll be quite safe.’

He frowned. ‘Sleep with a pistol under your pillow.’

‘Of course.’

As he turned away to speak to Jack, Elena caught Concha’s eye. The maid grinned and lowered her voice.

‘In my experience a pistol is not much use against snoring and flatulence.’

Elena gave a snort of laughter and hurriedly turned it into a cough. Harry glanced round. Nothing could have been more innocent than the eyes that met his.

They went down and he made enquiries as to what might be available for dinner. Their host beamed.

‘Today we have chickpea and spinach soup.’

‘Good. What else?’

‘Bread.’

Harry sighed. ‘I suppose you have wine?’

‘Of course wine,
señor
. What kind of house would it be otherwise?’

The man clearly considered it a rhetorical question because he bustled off before Harry could vouchsafe a reply.

Elena caught his eye. ‘The simplest meals are often the best.’

‘In that case I’d say we’re in for a treat.’

Since the inn had no private parlour the four of them ate in the communal dining room. It was a long room with a timber frame in-filled by adobe bricks. At one time these had been plastered over, but now the plaster layer had crumbled away in places. What remained was yellowed with age. At the far end was a wide hearth where a fire burned. Bunches of garlic, dried herbs and chilli peppers were strung from the smoke-darkened beams in the low ceiling. In the centre of the room was a long trestle table with benches on either side. The wooden floor was covered with a layer of straw. Two small windows looked out on to a fenced yard where chickens scratched. A pig pen stood in one corner and, a few yards distant, a privy.

The other occupants of the dining room glanced up as the newcomers entered, eyed them curiously for a moment and then turned their attention back to their food. The four took their places at the end of the table. A manservant appeared with horn cups and wooden spoons. Presently the soup arrived in a large tureen, and was accompanied by a loaf and a jug of rough red wine. In fact, the soup was good and, with the bread as well, surprisingly filling. They ate hungrily. Outside it began to rain.

Once the food was finished they lingered over the wine and talked quietly. Harry contributed little to the conversation; his thoughts turned inward. Although he was glad that they had at least found shelter for the night, the primitive surroundings made him feel even more determined that, after this trip, he was going to remove Elena to her rightful sphere. When he reflected on the conditions she had endured in the course of their short married life he was ashamed. Elena never complained and said she didn’t mind it, but he did. As time went on he found that he minded more and more. He glanced round the room with distaste. Bringing her to such a place was like throwing a diamond into mud. If his family could see this they’d take him to task and no mistake. Furthermore, they’d be right.