Mariel (25 page)

He stumbled on a word and paused as he saw the bowed heads in the first pew to his left. This was the first time anyone had sat there since he assumed his duties in Foxbridge. Hastily, he continued with the supplication, before anyone could think he had done more than hesitate to catch his breath. His eyes remained on the Wythe pew. When Mariel peeked at him from under the wide brim of her picture hat, a slow smile spread across his face. Her eyes twinkled at him mischievously.

Easily recognizing the challenge she posed to him, Ian found himself caught up in an attempt to impress her. He ignored the pages in front of him on the altar as he spoke from his heart of the need for love in his congregation's lives. Too often, he found his eyes straying to Mariel. Each time, he could see the love emblazoned on her face, which urged him to forsake his task and take her in his arms.

A flush brightened his cheeks as he finished his sermon in grand style. The organ resounded against the rafters as he gave a signal to the choir director. That he had touched more than Mariel with his words he discovered as the churchgoers enthusiastically joined in with the final hymn. He walked to the back of the church as he did each Sunday and spoke the benediction.

With the ease of habit, Phipps straightened Lady Mariel's hat as they rose. The younger woman's silky hair refused to allow the wide hat to stay in place. It continually slipped toward her right ear. She listened as Lady Mariel chatted with the people sitting behind them, and she wondered if the young woman had any idea how special her life was. That she was trying to ruin it with this latest escapade, which took her to the bed of the man who led this church, seemed insanity to her.

The gray-haired woman blanched. Such words could never be voiced in Foxbridge Cloister. The taint of the past haunted Lady Mariel. The dark-haired woman needed no reminder of that horrible night when her life was altered forever.

Mariel could not have guessed Phipps's dark thoughts. Today her heart swelled with the joy of seeing Ian. Although she could not show the love she shared with him, being near him made her happy. She wondered if he would be able to find time tonight to hold her again. Although the horror continued to hover over her, she could not wait to drown it in the depths of their love.

“My, you are happy this morning,” crooned one of the spinster ladies who had sat behind them.

“I am,” she responded with a smile. “It's been a very good summer so far. Such good weather for the crops, and I have such high expectations for the future of the school. All in all, it is a day for jubilation.”

The second lady could not restrain her nosiness. “We were quite surprised to see you here, my lady. It's been so long since you and the lord joined us for services. It's been since …”

Mariel interrupted her hastily. “The reverend shared your concerns about my laxness, so I thought I would come to see what all the adulation of his sermons was about. He did so well.” She smiled as she found she had changed the subject with ease. The two ladies, dressed in the most somber style of their day, began to discuss every detail of Reverend Beckwith-Carter's sermon. Leaving them to their debate over some minuscule matter of scripture, Mariel walked with Phipps to the door of the church.

She waited while Ian spoke to the people in line ahead of her. As if they were the merest of acquaintances, Mariel offered him her hand. “I enjoyed the service, Reverend.” Her smile caressed him as she added more softly, “Truly inspiring.”

“I am glad,
my
lady.” The slight emphasis was heard only by her heart. “It is such a pleasure to see you here.”

“I am happy I came. Until now, I had not realized how much I missed these services.” When she realized others waited to speak to him, she added, “Would you take luncheon with us?”

“It would be an honor.”

She smiled with the love burgeoning in her heart. “We will wait for you by the automobile.”

“No. Why don't you and Phipps go to the rectory? Mrs. Reed made lemonade this morning. She will be delighted to give you a glass.”

“Mrs. Reed is home?” Her voice faltered before she added, “I trust her sister is better.”

He nodded as he released her hands, which he had been holding publicly too long. She lowered her eyes and stepped away. Although he had hoped to find another way to tell her, there was no way to soften the truth that the sweet interlude was over. Even as he talked to other members of the congregation, he watched her walk slowly across the green, wavering in the heat. He understood the sorrow in her heart.

Rosie greeted Mrs. Reed with her usual enthusiasm. While the adults talked, she found her way to the kitchen table for a glass of lemonade accompanied by one of Mrs. Reed's incomparable biscuits.

“I am glad you have been able to return,” said Phipps. She did not look at her lady, who would not be sharing her relief at the housekeeper's returnend. “How is your sister?”

The thin woman held out two more glasses of lemonade. Frost clung to their sides. “She is doing quite well. A heart palpitation, but she understands what she must do to stay well.” She smiled. “I am happy to be back in my own home. I can tell the reverend missed me.”

“How?” asked Mariel before she could halt the question.

“He was very grateful for my cooking this morning.” She lost her smile as she said thoughtfully, “He asked for scrambled eggs, although he always has them poached.” With a shrug, she laughed, “Perhaps he tired of the way the church ladies served him his meals.”

Mariel smiled weakly and left the kitchen on a half-spoken excuse. Wandering to the front of the house, she opened the pocket doors of the drawing room opposite Ian's study. She sat in the cool silence. That this joy would come to an end she had known from the beginning. It was just that she did not want it to be today. One more time she wanted to lie in Ian's arms and lose herself in their love.

“I thought you might be here.”

She looked up to see the man she loved standing in the doorway. Without attempting a fake smile, she said, “I did not think you would mind.”

“Of course not.” He entered, but did not close the doors behind him. “Honey, we must talk.”

“I know.”

“Not here.”

She nodded her immediate understanding. Mrs. Reed was a wonderful housekeeper, but she could not be cured of her habit of listening at keyholes. “After lunch, we shall go for a walk. There are places in the gardens where we won't be overheard.”

Taking her hands, he drew her to her feet and into his arms. “I love you, Mariel Wythe. More every day.”

“I love you.” Her smile was genuine as she added, “And I think you are the most wonderful preacher I have ever heard. You could woo the devil into renouncing his ways.”

He grinned at her exaggeration. “Not quite, but thank you for the compliment. You learn early to be charming when you have to talk your way out of punishments in the headmaster's office.” Kissing her too quickly, he led her to the hallway.

Rosie bounced from one foot to the other when Ian offered to give her a ride to the Cloister in his buggy. The four of them would not fit in the automobile. Mrs. Reed waved to them as they all drove away, the electric vehicle in the lead so as not to frighten Ian's horse.

Throughout the succulent meal, which was tasteless in Mariel's mouth, he continued to tease Rosie in the way he knew she loved. Somehow, Mariel found herself responding to the conversation and laughing with the child. She wanted only to have the meal completed, so she could be alone with Ian.

She was surprised when Phipps said, “Why don't you take Reverend Beckwith-Carter out and show him the roses, my lady?”

“Me, too?” piped in Rosie.

“No,” said Phipps. “You must practice the piano this afternoon.”

“It's Sunday!”

“I am quite aware of the day, young lady, but you skipped both Friday and Saturday. Lady Mariel will expect you to do well at your lesson tomorrow afternoon.” Taking the child by the hand, Phipps led her from the room.

Ian pushed back his chair. “Shall we?”

“I don't think we have any choice. When Phipps gives commands in that tone of voice, I have learned to listen.”

“But not to obey?”

She grinned. “Not always.”

They went through the French doors in the dining room onto the stone terrace at the edge of the lawn. The gardens shimmered in the midday sun. Walking through the quiet, they could hear the soft song of the waves in the distance. The ever-present breeze puffed and faltered under the heat of the day.

Ian drew her into a rose-covered arbor. Within it, the power of the sun was diminished. When she sat on the narrow bench, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with the passion he could deny no longer.

“I wanted to send you a message when Mrs. Reed arrived last night, but I could not think of a way to phrase it.” He brushed her hair back from her cheeks.

“My love, there must be other places.”

“Name one!” she demanded bitterly. “Name one where we can have even a few minutes of privacy.”

He shook his head. “I don't know, but we cannot let this destroy what we have found. This could be solved very easily in the three weeks it would take to post the banns.”

“No!” she stated firmly.

“Why do you resist every time I suggest marriage?” He forced her face to turn so he could see the emotions she could not control. “You love me. This is the easiest way to solve our dilemma. It was what I intended from the beginning.”

“From the beginning?”

Taking her by the shoulders, he snapped, “Do you think I would have made love to you otherwise? I thought then that you refused to marry me because you feared what we would share in our marriage bed. If I could prove to you how wonderful our love would be, I thought you would accept my proposal. But that is not what you fear, is it?”

“Ian, I don't want to talk about this now.”

“Then when?” he demanded in growing anger. “I love you. You love me. What we feel is potent and should last all our lives. I have married couples who do not share a love as honest as ours. Why do you prefer to sneak about when all you have to do is tell me yes?”

She would not look at him. “I said I don't want to talk about marriage.”

A gasp of pain escaped her lips as he shook her, but he did not apologize. “Why don't you simply say the truth? You don't want to marry me. You enjoy the times you share my bed, but the lovely Lady Mariel Wythe cannot lower herself to marry a cripple.”

“Ian, don't say things like that!” She wanted to soothe his pain, but his anger refused to let her bridge the chasm it created between them.

“Why not?”

“Because it's not true!”

“Then why won't you marry me?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it tightly. If she told him the truth, she feared he would reject her outright. She loved Ian. For that reason, she could not ask him to share the nightmare waiting to take her without warning. When she did not answer, she saw his face hardened into a prison for his fury.

Ian rose. She leapt to her feet, but he brushed aside her hand as she tried to halt him from leaving. “Please, Ian,” she cried. “Listen to me!”

“Listen to what? You have made your feelings clear.” He placed his hat firmly on his head. “Good day, Lady Mariel. Thank you very much for the fine luncheon.”

Gathering her skirts in her hand, she ran to catch up with him. She stood in front of him, but jumped aside as she realized he would not stop. “Ian!” she shouted. “Don't be like this! I love you.”

Over his shoulder, he stated, “I am sure you think you do. Good day.”

Mariel sank to a stone bench. She watched as he descended the hill toward the road. Within minutes, she saw his buggy leave a cloud of dust in its wake as it sped through the gate. A void aching deep within her told her that her heart went with him as he stormed away from Foxbridge Cloister.

She hid her face in her hands and she sobbed. Even as she told herself it would have come to this sooner or later, she did not want to think of losing this love, which had been the keystone of her life for the past weeks. She did not want the love to end.

Forcing herself to cross the lawn, she went up to her room. Behind the locked doors, she wept at the inevitable which had come too quickly. She refused to answer the door when she heard a soft rapping on it. Just now, anyone's sympathy would decimate the bit of Mariel left in the aftermath of her rejection.

That day and the next dragged by as Mariel tried to think of some way of convincing Ian of her love without telling him the truth. Slowly, she discovered that was impossible. She spent part of each day walking to and from the front windows to peer out into the sunshine. Not once did his carriage pull up in front of the house.

Only the work she needed to do to prepare for the special board meeting kept her busy. She poured all her energy into it, but found it was not enough. During the day, she spent her empty hours with Rosie in a desperate attempt to find the love she feared she had lost. During the long hours of the night, as the starlight created a crisscross pattern through the diamond-shaped mullions of her windows, she once again paced the floor, trying to tire herself enough to sleep.

That she knew Ian did the same in the smaller bedroom in the manse did not ease her sorrow. His stubbornness and her fear drove them apart when they needed each other most. Too many times during the day, she thought of something she wanted to share with him—a joke, a comment. Each time that happened, her pain increased.

Phipps left her lady to her own devices. Although Mariel never had been easy to work for, she became impossible as her pain erupted in sharp words. Phipps guessed that the reverend had hurt Lady Mariel in some manner.

The older woman kept Rosie busy, so she would not disturb Lady Mariel. The child did not notice any problem. She simply was happy to have her beloved Mariel at the Cloister all the time.