Salting the Wound (34 page)

‘Which is what she needs to do on this occasion. Marianne has approached Charlotte several times with the hand of friendship, and finally sent her a message saying that Charlotte must be the one to end the quarrel.’

‘What did Charlotte say to that?’

Her nose went up in the air and she said something like, ‘Humph!’

‘How did she take news of my death?’

‘She cried a lot, then she went quiet, then she cried a bit more and said she wished she hadn’t been mean to you because you hadn’t deserved it, and she hoped you hadn’t suffered.’

‘I should die more often.’

Seth laughed at that. ‘How about we force their hands? Come to dinner on Saturday.’

Marianne wrapped Dickon warmly in his shawl, and they took a cab to Harbour House.

Seth let them in. Of Charlotte there was no sign, but a young dog yapped ferociously at their heels.

‘Shut up, you noisy creature.’ Turning it on its back Marianne tickled his stomach and he writhed about in ecstasy.

‘That’s Scrap. I bought him for John.’

‘He’ll love it.’ Marianne hadn’t set foot in Harbour House for months. It hadn’t changed, even its smell, a mixture of polish, dust and heather. She choked on her tears as she handed Seth the agreement from Sir Charles. No wonder Charlotte was so attached to it. ‘Being back here makes me want to go out on the heath. How’s Charlotte today?’

‘Why don’t you ask me yourself?’

Her sister was standing at the top of the stairs, tears were running down her face. ‘Why didn’t you come sooner, Marianne? I’ve missed you.’

On the way up the stairs Marianne scolded her, ‘I did come sooner. I walked out here on several occasions, and you wouldn’t let me in.’

‘How could you do such and awful thing to your own sister?’ Nick asked her.

‘I don’t know.’ She gave a big sniff. ‘Yes, I do. It’s because I’m pig-headed and I like my own way all the time, and Marianne had married you without telling me. I’m truly sorry, Marianne. Can you forgive me?’

‘I usually do, but you don’t deserve it this time. However . . . yes, you’re forgiven.’

‘And is there no welcome home for me, Char?’

Charlotte gave a faint smile. ‘You have nine lives, Nick. I didn’t believe for a minute that you were drowned.’

‘Liar,’ Seth said, which brought a grin to her face. ‘Marianne talked Sir Charles into signing that agreement, so John will return to live with us.’

‘May I remind you not to count your chickens. John isn’t home yet.’

Marianne reached the top of the stairs. When Charlotte hugged her Dickon began to wave his arms around.

His mother placed a kiss on her son’s dark head. ‘But he will be home quite soon . . . today.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I can feel it in the wind.’

Charlotte took Dickon from her and gazed down at him, smiling when he presented her with a copy of Nick’s smile. She looked at Nick, as if comparing them. ‘Dickon has your eyes and will probably grow up with your damned rogue charm, as well, Nick Thornton.’

Nick gave a self-effacing grin.

‘Now don’t you go running off, because I’ve got something to say to you, as well.’

He grinned challengingly at her. ‘Charlotte, you haven’t changed a bit, you’re still the same old sourpuss.’

‘Oh, but I have changed. I promised Seth that I wouldn’t point a gun at you this time.’

‘And I promise to take the bullet if you do. Rather that than be at the pointed end of one of your tongue lashings with my nose stuck in the dirt again,’ he said gloomily.

Seth laughed. ‘Come into my study, Nick, I’ll give you a brandy to fortify yourself with while the ladies talk.’

Upstairs, they went into Marianne’s old room, which was exactly as she’d left it. Placing Dickon on the bed, Charlotte hugged her tight. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I should never have thought such awful things about you and Nick. It doesn’t matter why Nick married you, as long as you’re happy. At least he did the right thing.’

The right thing? ‘Lor, Char, you do like to think the worst of people, don’t you? Of course I’m happy. I didn’t expect to fall in love with him, though.’

‘But does he love you? I mean, it was always me he expected to marry.’

‘Whether he loved me or not, I’m going to make him so happy that he’ll never want to leave me. You hurt him badly, Char. You led him on, then cast him aside as if he was worthless.’

‘So you married him because you felt sorry for him.’

‘Sorry for him?’ Marianne giggled. ‘It was probably the other way around. He knew people would talk about us after I went to Boston, and they’d come to the wrong conclusion. Nick swept me right off my feet. I adore him.’

Dickon gave a demanding little cry.

‘He needs a feed.’

‘Then let’s go into the nursery, because the twins will need one too, and it’s time the cousins were acquainted. It’s warmer there, and we can leave them with the maid afterwards. You’ll be surprised at how big the twins are now, and they’re both walking. Jessica first, then Major Mitchell, though he has to hang on to the furniture. They’re on solids now, but they still need milk . . .

If there was one thing Charlotte had never lacked, it was courage. But even Marianne was astounded when she made her apology to Nick in front of her husband and herself.

‘I need to apologize to you, Nick. Although I loved you, it wasn’t the type of love that would sustain a marriage. That’s something I’ve unexpectedly found with Seth. I should have told you earlier that I didn’t care for you in that way.’

‘It’s all right, Charlotte. I’m sure you did. I was too stupid to listen, anyway, and I forgave you for that a long time ago.’

‘I didn’t expect you to marry Marianne when you still felt affection for me. And then it was kept a secret and I learned she was having a baby. It upset me because I knew you’d found a perfect way of taking your revenge and I didn’t want Marianne to be hurt.’

‘Enough, Charlotte. Let’s get a couple of things perfectly clear. I didn’t marry Aria to take revenge on you. When I met your sister I had already fallen out of love with you, except I was thinking perhaps we could be friends again.’

Marianne felt his hand slide warmly round hers, and as their fingers intertwined he smiled at her. ‘I admit that both things crossed my mind when I discovered you were on board, Aria, which was why I didn’t turn back to port. But something happened.’

‘What? You said you wanted to marry me to protect me from any gossip that would arise.’

‘Who gives a damn about women’s gossip? Put simply, I fell in love with you. It was almost immediate, and it was nothing like I’d ever experienced before. I remembered you’d been hankering over Lucian Beresford, who was totally unsuitable for you, so I decided to grab you for myself.’

A smile sped across her face. Her heart thumped and her stomach felt like a sack of leaping frogs. ‘Oh, Nick,’ she said, and burst into tears.

He smiled at her expression, ‘What are you crying about? Didn’t you realize?’

When she shook her head, he smiled, but rather smugly.

‘I nearly died of grief when you went missing, and if it hadn’t been for Dickon I would have done. Your uncle offered to marry me himself if you didn’t come home, and Daisy used to cry herself to sleep on the nights I didn’t cry myself to sleep.’

Nick’s grin grew wider. ‘Erasmus proposed to you?’

‘Sort of.’ She laughed. ‘He looked rather relieved when I turned him down. Can we go out on the heath for a little while, Nick?’

‘Oh, you and that heath, Marianne,’ Charlotte said with a certain amount of exasperation.

‘Come with us, just for an hour. I’ll show you where the gypsies camp . . . Seth, you too. I have a feeling . . .’

They donned their coats and set out. The day was a cool one, the water from the harbour was slapping against the shore, the gulls wheeling. Soon winter would set in, mists would creep across the heath and lock the house inside it. The banks of the streams would be hung with icicles.

Marianne slipped her hand into Nick’s and thought about him and their son. She was full to bursting with happiness and had never felt so contented.

The gypsies had arrived, she knew. There was a smell of smoke in the air, one that hadn’t been there when they’d arrived at the house.

They’d made camp in the pine copse, which was on a rise, with the chalk stream flowing in a groove the water had worn through the heath cover. They’d probably stay for a week then move on to a more sheltered spot for the winter, if the weather remained good. They’d be back again in spring.

The dogs approached first, bellies low to the ground and tails wagging when they recognized Marianne. Hackles were raised for the others. Scrap set up a juvenile yap from the safety of Seth’s arms.

There were six vans and six sturdy horses, fires were going and there was an air of togetherness amongst the inhabitants of the camp.

Jessica came towards them, a smile on her face. ‘You’ll be after having the boy, then. I would have brought him back to where he belongs earlier, but I needed to earn my living along the way, and he needed to heal. The lad had troubles going on inside his head. He’s there, with the horse. Allow him to finish his chore first. It will only take a minute or two.’

They sat on a fallen pine and watched him. John was astride the broad back of Jessica’s horse, brushing the tangles from its mane. The horse had its eyes closed and seemed to be drowsing.

Charlotte gazed at Seth with tears in her eyes and Seth kissed her forehead.

Nick took Marianne’s hand in his. ‘Let’s leave them to it and go back to the house now, my love.’

Marianne gave Jessica a hug and whispered. ‘Thank you, Jessica.’

‘How did you know we were here?’

She told Jessica the same as she’d told the others. ‘I heard it on the wind.’

The gypsy took Marianne’s face between her work worn hands and kissed her forehead. ‘I reckon you did, at that, my lovely. You have some gypsy blood in your veins; it came through your mother. Would this be your man?’

‘He is my husband. His name is Nicholas Thornton.’

‘She has a soft heart, but a brave one. Look after her, Nicholas.’

‘Always,’ Nick said.

As they walked away they heard John call out, ‘Pa! . . . Ma! I knew you’d both come. Is that my dog, can I play with him?’

As Nick and Marianne headed back across the heath the wind scattered the last of the autumn debris before them, clearing a path.

Ahead of them, Harbour House came into view. There, Marianne’s ancestors had lived, fought and died. There, she and Charlotte had been born, and there, her mother and father had breathed their last. It had not been a house of happy memories for Marianne, but nevertheless it was in her blood and in her past. Nick was her future.

The sound of a name seemed to be whispered on the wind as it combed through the tough heath gorses. Serafina . . .

Marianne gazed up at Nick, at his profile, which was strong and loving, and the hairs on the nape of her neck, prickled. ‘Nick?’

A dark, liquid glance came her way. ‘What is it, my love?’

‘Did you hear anything?’

Taking her in his arms he tipped up her chin and whispered against her mouth, ‘I thought I heard your heart sing . . . then again, it may have been mine.’