The Silent Love (9 page)

The sun was just beginning to light the sky and somewhere a cock crowed, hailing the day. Mary opened the door, looking sad, but not surprised as she let him into the room, motioning him to a chair.

"David you should not be involved in this madness. Already it has cost you dearly." His mother, whose speech and manner were more that of a lady than a smithy's daughter—for the old Marquis had tutored her well—looked at her son, her visage stern and implacable. "This sin of adultery alone will cost you your soul, for it is not of love born, but a bargain made. You must desist."

"But that is just it, mother. I believe I am falling in love with her, and though part of me knows you are right, another part of me longs to go back." He looked at her in helpless pleading, and knowing she understood full well his dilemma, he was comforted to have unburdened himself. He knew as well that his mother would never reveal what he had told her, for she would do ought to harm her grandchild, should there be one.

As she continued to look at him, her face shadowed, her eyes pinning him with the truth of her words, David made his decision final. He would leave. In fact, he would go today. Putting it off might weaken his resolve and in his newfound manhood, he could not afford to weaken.

Kissing his mother gently upon her forehead, he hugged her close for a moment and then went to the door. "I don't know when I shall see you again. I am sorry that I have shamed you with this behavior, but I will no longer be a party to my father's scheme. For it is her soul that I would protect, not my own."

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* * * * *

 .

Hannah went through her day in a fog, not attending her lessons and cutting short her dressmaking activities. Claiming a headache, she withdrew to her chamber and lay upon the bed in a melancholy decline. At the Marquis insistence dinner was served in her room. A dinner that she left untouched, for her appetite had fled.

The Marquis, watching her closely, hoped this might be a sign of the early stages of pregnancy. Four pregnant wives he'd witnessed and knew it was not uncommon for a woman to fall into varying moods, melancholy being especially common, when she was increasing. He, therefore, was not troubled by her behavior and went on with his visit to David, as scheduled.

When he arrived at the cottage he was stunned to find David gone. His clothes, his pipe and his small cache of toiletries, all gone. The fine mount that he had given his son stood tethered in the makeshift stable, a bag of oats hung over its massive head.

Walking through the small house, he spied a vase on the table. Reaching out, he picked it up and was immediately assailed by memories so haunting that he nearly dropped the gay little hand painted object. The note that had been propped against it had fallen to the floor, and it was only luck that he spied it. With great effort, he leaned down and retrieved the paper and read it with trembling hands.

"Father, I am sorry that all of your wishes will not be borne... namely, the heir you so desire. I find I cannot continue here, and I will make my way in this world as best I can without your largesse. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but if you cannot, I will understand.

Please... if you should find a way to tell her how sorry I am and how bereft at leaving this way. She cannot know the feelings I have for her; it would not be seemly. She does not know who I am, I promise you that, but I have grown to love her and I cannot allow this charade to continue, for it kills me to leave her each night, knowing that soon it will be forever. Let forever start now, the agony of waiting is done.

With fondness, your son, David

The Marquis of Darlington stood in that small room and allowed the tears to slip down his weathered face for the second time in his life. First Mary had left him here, alone and anchorless, so many years before and now their son had done so as well. After a while, he picked up the note and the vase, tucked them into his pocket and called for his aide, returning home with the mount tethered to the carriage.         

He tried to decide how to tell Hannah that David was gone and finally realized that he could not. The girl would know soon enough. If she questioned him, he would simply say the fellow had changed his mind and gone on his way.

It would not be the best explanation, but it would be the truth. Mayhap she was already with child, for he had taken careful note of her monthly cycle, and he knew that she should have bled well over a week ago. In spite of the loss of his son, the old Marquis could not help but be hopeful. He may have an heir already growing in the girl's belly.

Chapter Six

~~

She waited through the night, and he never came. Tossing and turning, she could not find sleep, and her body, denied his intimacy, was trembling and aching more than ever before. Aching for that illusive something, that something that she would now never know.

 The hollow emptiness in her womb was mirrored in her heart, where a immense fissure had been torn.

At dawn, Hannah arose from her bed and went to the window, drawing the drapes aside and looking out over the vast lawns. The ground was covered with a mist that arose from the gardens in wraith-like splendor, rising into the morning sky as the sun greedily absorbed the moisture... as he had absorbed her life, her hope, and her dreams.

Hannah was startled that she should have such a thought. The stranger—the silent lover in her bed—had been naught to her she reminded herself sternly. Stubbornly, she lifted her chin and set her shoulders, denying the heartbreak that threatened to overcome her. She would not pine for the gentle stranger. She had rejected his ardent overtures, and he had gone. There was an end to it.

Placing a hand over her flat stomach she prayed that a child had been conceived, for she was a week late with her menses. Sadly, she realized that, if she had a child, she would never know his father, never see the child run to the man.

Her mind's eye pictured a tall dark man coming across the lawn, a small dark-headed boy running to him. The man's arms opened and swooped the laughing child up and away, onto his broad shoulders, the pair of them laughing and companionable. A man and his son.

A single tear slipped down her face, and dropped, unnoticed, onto the hand that pressed against her lips. She drew upon her meager strength and resolved to think upon him no more, for she knew that he would not come back.

She would bear a son and looking upon him, she would at last know the man.

She went to her bed, only to toss and turn, until the dawn light filtered through the heavy drapery.

Hannah came late to the breakfast table, and the Marquis was already there. He looked up at her entry and his eyes, so kind, so knowing, followed her progress across the room. He did not speak for a while, but sat toying with the food on his plate. In silence, they broke their fast, each one thinking of the man who had gone from their lives... neither willing or able to broach the subject that was uppermost in their minds. Finally, the old Marquis cleared his throat and spoke into the silence.

"Hannah... the day appears to be coming on very nicely. Would you like to go for a drive? I think we could both benefit from some fresh air."

"Yes, Milord. That would be very pleasant." She spoke in a tone that conveyed that she cared not where she went, or what she did, but would agree to please him.

"You look a little pale, my child. Are you feeling well?" He looked at her with those kind, sorrowful eyes, and she could not sustain her indifferent posture, and weeping, she rose from her chair and flung herself at his feet, her head resting upon his knees as she sobbed out her heartbreak.

The Marquis placed a gentle hand upon her silky hair in a comforting way, and waited for the storm to pass, his heart aching as well, for the man who had left them. His son. David.

"He has gone." It was a statement, but there was a question in her voice.

"Yes." His brief answer was unsatisfactory, but under the circumstances she could not prod him to tell her more. The stranger was not for her. This was her husband, and she would that she could love him as he deserved. And though he had sanctioned her behavior—indeed, had created the situation—she was guilty of adultery and could not be peaceful with the knowledge.

"I was not told... " she began in a hollow voice. "... I am afraid it was rather a shock." She lifted her head and sniffed back her tears, accepting the handkerchief he proffered, dabbing at her swollen eyes, struggling to get control of herself. She tried to explain away her actions, both to him and to herself. "I was a little hurt that no one had told me he would not come. I... I guess it made me angry."

"You are not angry, Hannah. You are in love." The Marquis spoke gently, his hand stroking her hair, his smile edged with suffering. "It would be impossible not to love the man who has taken your virtue and given you a child. I have known for some time, if you have not, that your feelings were engaged."

When she looked up at him with startled eyes, he went on in a grave voice. "Are you not past due for your monthly time? It would appear that he left more than a broken heart behind."

"I believe so, Milord," she whispered, bowing her head as fresh tears pooled in her amber eyes. "I... would that it is true."

Realizing the Marquis knew more about the stranger's disappearance than he was telling, she eyed him curiously and posed a question. "Why did he leave?"

"Because... because he was growing too attached to you. He left me a note saying so. It was not your fault, nor his either. I should have known that such an arrangement would eventually lead to this. You cannot put a man and a woman together in such intimacy without something happening between them... something more than lust."

Jumping up, she looked at him anxiously. "Where then, is the note?" Hoping she might have something to keep of him, she prayed that the Marquis had not destroyed it, but her hopes were dashed at his answer.

"I... consigned it to the fire. Felt it would not be wise to keep such evidence around. The child must never know. The
world
must never know. All we have striven for would be lost." He did not tell her of that other note, but he had destroyed neither of them, in actuality. They lay in the bottom of a small chest in his wall safe, tucked away securely, that no one might find them... until long after it would be too late to do anything about what was implied therein.

Putting on a bright face for her benefit, he lifted his eyes to the window. "I think, Hannah, that we should go for that ride now. It has become rather gloomy in here."

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* * * * *

 .

The weeks rolled by in a flurry of activity as the household prepared for the new arrival. An heir had been got upon the mistress of the house, and the gloom that had lain so long over the Marquis lifted miraculously.

The carpenter from the village was consigned to build a new cradle and a rocking horse. Mr. Strongbow, the village smithy, had a knack for whittling and offered to carve an army of toy soldiers. His daughter, Mary—who was David's mother—would paint them.

Hannah and her maid were busy sewing and knitting. The tiny garments began to pile up in the newly painted chest of drawers in the nursery. The ladies of the village brought many small items, lovingly kept from their own babes. Tiny booties, miniscule gowns and blankets, quilts and bonnets.

 Some new, but many passed along from their previous owners, they were placed in a basket at the door and retrieved by Darwin each morning. It was a tradition that the heir should receive all manner of things from the villagers, as his due. It would bring luck to the house, and the young master would grow up knowing his birthright included the care and prosperity of the village as well as the manor.

As it had always been done, four hundred years of tradition now sallied forth for the 16
^th
Marquis of Darlington, not yet born.

The nursery itself had been refurbished—under Hannah's supervision—and a rainbow had been painted across one wall, a mural of bright flowers and tiny elves across another. The woman who came to paint the murals had been recommended by her maid and had done a wonderful job.