The Silent Love (7 page)

Returning to his original purpose, he posed a question. "Do you need those glasses?" He smiled at her benevolently, and waved his hand in dismissal as she handed him a plate of scones. "You have such nice eyes, my dear. Would that you could display them without those... "

 "Yes, Milord. I cannot see well at all without them. Would you have me tumble down the stairs or run into one of your statuettes and break my neck?" She spoke softly, her voice almost teasing, and he was wont to smile in response.

 "Well, no... that would be a disaster. But if I could offer you some different frames, perhaps you might be interested?"

 "Different? How so?" She was puzzled; these were the only frames she had ever seen. "I would love to have something... less plain, if it could be arranged."

 "I can have my jeweler here tomorrow and we shall try for a different look." Satisfied that his words had not been taken ill, he changed the subject. "I have sent for a seamstress from London. She will outfit you as becomes your station. I hope you do not mind. But surely you can see that your clothing is... "

 "Quite shabby, Milord," she finished the sentence, excited at the thought of new gowns. "But you must not spend a great deal upon me, my generous husband, for what if... "

 "What if what, my dear?"

 "Well, has it occurred to you that I might not... there is a possibility that I could be... unable to conceive?" She lifted her head and looked at him, blushing to her roots and spoke in a whisper. "For it is certain that I have not done so yet. Just this morning... "

 "Ah, well then I should send a message, forestalling the nightly visits until you appraise me otherwise. Am I correct?" Knowing what she conveyed, he wanted to be sure that she was comfortable, and that David did not show up inopportunely.

 "That is most kind of you." The relief on her face was evident, for she had obviously been stewing about what to do. A husband, of course, would know these things and there would be no need for such elaborate communications, but she knew that her visitor would have no inkling that it was her woman's time.

"I want you to know that I am most grateful for all you are doing for me. I shall do my very best to produce an heir." She lifted her chin in a small display of hauteur. "I
shall
produce one, 'tis certain."

She then poured a second cup and set it to her lips in the proper manner, showing her ability to learn quickly those things that she must know. "What of my drawing room manner, my lord? Will it do?"

The old Marquis laughed in delight, the sound echoing through the cavernous room, dispelling the gloom that had lain like a pall over his spirit for so long. "Quite well, you impish child. Quite well."

Chapter Four

~~

Every day, David paced the fields, his long legs striding out in angry rhythm. Sometimes the woods drew his wandering feet, as he was soothed somewhat by the cool silence in the forest. He went for rides on the excellent mount from his father's stable, charging across the fields in a race with his troubled spirit, though he could not outpace it, no matter how he drove his stallion. Alternately, he sat brooding by the fire, wrestling with his conscience in growing frustration, for he longed for the girl on one hand and longed to be away from her on the other.

It had been four days and no word from the big house. Would she then never call him back? He worried that she had gone into her monthly cycle so soon after he had breached her. Perhaps she was not experiencing her courses at all and was only avoiding his visits. Fretting at the delay, he lay awake in the small chamber where he had come into this world, his thoughts straying to that other chamber, just a stone's throw away, wondering if she slept peacefully, or if she perchance missed him?

Of course, she does not miss me
, he scolded himself
. She can barley tolerate my assault on her person, how could she miss me?

Knowing himself for a fool, he could not stop thinking about the young woman, wondering what she was really like, if her voice and manner were as soft and gentle as her skin. He wished that he could get a peek at her and had tried on more than one occasion to do so, but there was always a watchful footman or a gardener in the way when he rode too close to the house, for he could not be seen and recognized.

I will find a way to see her. I will not allow father to continue this charade, he vowed just before sleep overcame him.

Upon awakening, however, he was of a much different mind. Though he wanted to discover her looks and the essence of who she was, he knew that to do so would be folly, for they had come to far to turn back, and soon he would be an absentee father and she would be lost to him.

Shying away from thoughts of the sweet, frightened maid he had tumbled in the darkness, he turned instead to his past, probing his behavior and motives rigorously. Mayhap, he should have tried harder to find his own place in society and done less feeling sorry for himself. Would that he had found a means of support by his own efforts, he would not be in this uncomfortable position.

He had seen others overcome their want of a birthright, and he was inclined to believe that he had more grit, personal charisma and overall intelligence than most. He had no courage, he decided. He could not get on without it and vowed to cultivate the required boldness that would propel him into the world as a successful man.

His own man
.

Not merely the bastard son of the Marquis of Darlington. The funds he would receive could be invested and built upon and with any luck at all, he would be able to live without the tainted allowance eventually.

David had come to loathe what he had done to gain his inheritance and was deeply ashamed.

On the fifth day, David awoke to the sound of carriage wheels and jumped up, hastily donning his trousers and went, tousle-headed and barefoot to the door of the cottage. Seeing his father alighting from the conveyance with the help of two burly footmen, he reached for his fine cambric shirt and pulled it over his head.

Striding into the yard, he waved at his parent, calling out, "Good tidings, Milord. Be with you in just a moment." Then he proceeded to the pump in the yard and ducked his head under the icy stream, coming fully awake at once.

Drying off with the tail of his shirt, David nearly ran to the cottage and it took all his fortitude to compose himself and not behave like an eager boy as he stepped into the dimness.

Seated comfortably near the fireplace, the Marquis watched as David built a fire. "You are much as I was in my youth," he said.

David, startled, turned to look at his parent. Eyebrows raised in skeptic surprise, he asked, "How so?"

"You have my muscular strength to begin with, and you also have inherited from the Strongbow blood as well, with your black hair.  

"I cannot help but wonder how I have spent so many years avoiding you when you are a son to be proud of, 'tis certain. You are a very personable and quick-witted young man."

David sat back on his heels, astounded by this father's words. He feared he might tear up and cry like a babe, such was the overwhelming emotion that assaulted him. He cleared his throat and returned to the business of building a fire.

"Might try some dryer kindling... I always had trouble with that flue," he suggested as David struggled with the damp wood. "Did you know you were born here, in this place?"

 "Yes... mother told me." David kept his eyes upon his task, unwilling to discuss his mother with this man who had so callously used her then left her with child. Well, perhaps that
is
a bit dramatic, he compromised, but it would have been better for all, had she never met him.

He said as much, unable to help himself.

"Would that I had not been born... " he mumbled.

His father, whose hearing was sound, poked him with a short piece of kindling that lay next to the chair, bringing David around with a start.

"I am glad that you were. Of all my sons—and you have four brothers in the graveyard, you know—I wish that you had been my heir." He looked at David through eyes damp with mist, and spoke again, softly. "Your mother and I were much in love. Damn society, I thought. I shall have this woman to bride and would have defied convention for her... but she would have none of it."

"She wouldn't?" David raised his eyebrows in disbelief, hardly able to countenance why his mother, who had struggled so hard over the years, would pass up such a sterling chance to better herself.

"Don't know her well, do you boy?" The Marquis smiled ruefully, for he had removed the young man from his mother at a very early age and David had spent his youth in boarding school, then on to university with only brief visits home. "Guess you can count that my fault."

"You provided for me, better than some would have done." David, unaccountably defended the man. A far cry from his feelings of just a few moments before.

"Proud woman, your mother." The Marquis continued as though David had not spoken. "Proud and stubborn. Said she could not fit into my world, and perhaps she was right. But I want you to know that I tried very hard to convince her otherwise."

He paused thoughtfully and tipped his head sideways, fixing his son with a mournful look. "Have you thought all these years that I had abandoned her? That I had used and discarded your mother?"

"Of course. What else should I think? Happens all the time." David gave a short bark of laughter and the pain in his eyes was evident. "You'd be surprised how many of us there are in those schools... winding up on the fringes of society. The by-blows of the mighty aristocracy. Not quite of one world and never part of the other. It's a limbo I would not wish on any child of mine."

"I cannot change what I've done. But you can see that I have tried to do my best for you. I had no idea that you suffered so. Always thought you enjoyed your London life, and it just never occurred to me that you might be less than happy."

"On the meager stipend you provided for me?" David spoke with more sorrow than anger.  "Without an introduction to polite society? What good my classical education and my antecedents if I could not meet the right people? Could not dress and live in the manner to which I should have been born?" His voice held a tinge of bitterness, and, for the first time in his life, David allowed that resentment to spew forth.

It was a cleansing experience, though he was unaware of it at the moment. He turned back to the fire, busying himself with the kindling and waited for the scorn that would surely be heaped upon him for his impertinence. It did not come.

"We have never talked before, have we David?"

"No, I should think not. You have been too busy avoiding me. Tell me sir, was I such a burden to your soul? Could you not have given me at least a modicum of your time? I am a bastard, 'tis true, but I am not deformed or wicked and your indifference has caused me great harm."

"Yes, I can see that. Would that I could change it David, but I cannot." The Marquis raised a hand in supplication. "Surely we can go on from here?" He looked hopefully at the stiff, unyielding posture of his son's back and waited, in his turn.

"I would not want to trouble your life, sir. I will just do as you have asked and then return to London. Actually, I have plans for my inheritance and wanted to ask your advice."

He avoided a direct answer to his father's question, still smarting from all the years of neglect and unwilling to cave in and give the old man his due. Though he was tempted for a small moment to throw himself across his father's lap and be hugged.

Unwilling as well, to be gainsaid, the Marquis lifted the stick again but before he could poke David in the back he turned around quickly, grabbing the offending object and tugging it from the other man. "That won't be necessary, I can assure you."

David then eased himself into the chair opposite, having finally managed to draw a nice little blaze. "I think perhaps you have made a peace offering. Am I right?"