Proper Scoundrel (32 page)

A place that would appear safe to a child.

Garrett made his plodding way to high ground, the cliff he could see from his window.

From there he surveyed Jade’s property, starting at the western edge across to the valley between her land and the mouth of the River Ouse to the east, Newhaven Harbour at its base.

Scanning the area, he saw a building, familiar in these parts, a round structure made of quarry-stone blocks—dungeons some called them because each had only two windows. The one in the distance seemed like a child’s toy from here, yet it had once been all too real to the Sussex smuggling trade and the smugglers’ families who went hungry.

Fifty years before, the Preventive Water Guard had set up a Coast Blockade, constructing the round towers as stations guarding the coast. A few were built inland as well at Newhaven Harbour and up the River Ouse. Several officers’ families had lived in each station, while the officers, themselves, used them for bases of operation.

Most of the towers had fallen prey to coastal storms over the years, like the one near his home in Seaford, nothing but rubble marking their earlier existence. The rare few left standing were deserted.

The one Garrett could see remained intact. He started in its direction, an unexplained logic urging him on.

With his lagging gait, amid dew-drenched high grass in the dark of night, he faced quite the walk. Nevertheless, he would do whatever he could to find the little girl he hoped for all their sakes might one day become his niece.

He lost sight of the odd round barracks as he went down one small hill and up the next, but he plodded on. When he feared he might have to stop and wait to be rescued himself, his reward came.

A dog barking. A tiny sound for a tiny dog.

“Mucks?” Garrett shouted. “Emily? Are you there?”

The pup met him, whipped to excitement, running in circles, toward him and back toward the tower in a frenzy, barking madly.

“I’m hurrying,” Garrett said. “Fast as I’m deucedly able.”

It seemed an eternity since he’d seen the guard tower from the cliff, but it came into sight again, as he topped another rise.

But Emily wasn’t there. At least not anymore.

While Garrett hesitated at the threshold, Mucks ran farther afield, toward the river. With the closest he could get to haste, Garrett forged on.

He approached the riverbank as dawn broke, and he saw her ... floundering, fighting to stay above water, losing the fight. Though she was not too far distant, it might have been miles for all the use his blasted legs would be. The river flowed with the tide and if she drifted further south, she’d be lost to the Channel.

Another test for his legs, an impossible one. “Emily, It’s Uncle Garr! I’m coming!”

Saying goodbye to Abigail, vowing his love, Garrett dove into the River Ouse.

Shock arrested Garrett by small prickling inches, numbing him, yet bringing him vitally to life. His legs worked better in the water. He’d never been so grateful for anything.

He’d expected to sink like a stone, but had to try, even if he died doing it.

Emily had the sense—and likely a last spurt of strength and energy because she saw him—to try and meet him halfway. Hope could be a powerful ally—no one knew that better than him.

His swim to the point where they met seemed to take an eternity.

When he reached her, Emily clung too tight to his neck, cutting his air, and he feared they were done for after all. But when her panic diminished, she responded to his plea to loosen her hold. And once they headed toward shore, she aided their watery sojourn by moving her legs against the pull of the tide.

Her natural instinct to swim likely accounted for her ability to stay above water, though her strength would have run out soon enough. Clearly, she was tired.

The fact that ebb tide was at its lowest and weakest point worked in their favour and Garrett thanked the deity. When he got Emily to the bank, they held each other so tight, he could feel their hearts, like battering rams against their chests.

The water on Emily’s face ran with tears, as did his. “You’re not lost anymore, Emmy-bug.” He squeezed her, catching his breath. “I found you. Uncle Garr found you.”

“No!” She pushed away from him in a fever, and began to slip and slide her dripping, determined way up the muddy bank.

Bloody hell.

Garrett’s legs, made suddenly of India rubber, gave out when he tried to stand. “Where are you going?” he shouted in desperation. “Mama and Papa will want to know.”

His words stopped her. She turned, fired with longing for less than a blink, then fell to the ground weeping.

Garrett all but crawled over to her, and once he got there, she gave up the fight and allowed him, again, to hold her. Eventually, her hysterical gibberish conveyed her sobbing certainty that Marcus and Jade had gone to join her mother in heaven.

She didn’t want an uncle, or anyone she might lose, again. She wanted to go to heaven too.

Heart heavy, Garrett rose, standing the child with him—a colossal effort forged of the same rigid tenacity and inflexible pride that, at one time, all and sundry predicted would be his doom. He reassured Emily, as he managed it, that she was wrong. Mama and Papa were fine and looking for her.

She didn’t quite believe him, though she quieted somewhat.

“You tried to follow, didn’t you? Was it Mama you saw leaving?”

She nodded and began to weep more quietly, hiding her face against his leg.

“Mama and Papa are out looking for you right now, Emmy-bug, and they’re very worried. They were going to look as far away as they must to find you, but because I can’t go very far with these sorry legs of mine, I had to search nearby. Thank God.”

Another reason, Garrett thought, for his accident and the wheelchair. He’d never before considered that God ordained any part of his life, or any life, for that matter. But now, after Abigail and Emily, he believed, and was grateful.

Emily looked around. “Chair?”

“No more wheelchair for me,” Garrett said. “Not even if someone brought it here right now, though I’d be tempted well enough.”

She seemed to understand.

He hugged her. “Ah, Sweetheart. Your Mama and Papa are going to be so happy to see you.”

Hope grew just a bit brighter in those small, sad, world-weary eyes of hers.

Garrett’s heart hitched, an inner ache spreading to every part of him, for all she’d endured, her pain becoming his. “Let’s go find them.”

Emily regarded him doubtfully for so long, Garrett almost wanted to fidget, then she must have decided she could trust him, because she grinned and his heart grew light and young again.

“The problem is,” he said earnestly. “Despite the fact that I’m standing at the moment, I can’t take a single step alone. Will you walk beside me, Emily, and help me?”

She nodded, just as earnest, and scrambled to fetch his canes as he directed. And once he had them in hand, he asked her to please hold his cane so he wouldn’t fall.

She shivered as they walked, dripping wet, and he felt the cold for the first time, but Emily didn’t seem the least bothered, she put so much concentration into helping him.

Garrett felt a hot, tight sting behind his eyes. This little mite who’d suffered so much was caring for him, her own discomfort be damned.

He was humbled.

When they arrived at Peacehaven, they found the house deserted, so Garrett guided Emily toward Eloisa’s room. Because of the babies, she would have stayed, and could dry Emily, wrap her in something warm and tuck her into her bed for a bit.

He’d take Em to find Jade and Marcus after he changed into dry clothes, if he had to harness the horses to a carriage himself.

Abigail was with Emily; Garrett had never been so grateful for anything, except how well his legs worked underwater, which gave him an idea of how to strengthen them further, and more quickly—perhaps in time for their wedding.

Eloisa clucked and took Emily in hand, carrying out the task he’d imagined she would, without him needing to ask.

Abigail kissed and welcomed Emily, then did the same for him, escorting him to his room to change, but not before he promised to take Em to find her parents.

“They’re not her parents,” Abigail whispered as he leaned against her, on his last legs, so to speak.

“They will be, if we can get Jade to admit it.”

“And Marcus.”

“Marc wants nothing more. He’s sick with wanting it. Having a family’s always been a dream of his. And here, the family he wants ... well, it’s Jade who doesn’t seem able to accept him, or the railroad, though we don’t know why.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Women can be a stubborn lot.”

Abigail cuffed him. “Did you ever think to ask Jade why?”

“I haven’t, but Marc has and he says it’s hopeless.”

“What about asking Ivy? I swear he knows everything about both of them.”

Garrett gazed at his bride-to-be with new respect. “You’re brilliant. I’ll speak to Ivy as soon as Emily is reunited with Marc and Jade.”

Abigail and Garrett learned from Emily, during their carriage ride to find Jade and Marcus, that the fearless child covered more distance than Garrett imagined she could. But having walked down the drive, and possibly a quarter mile down the road, if her indications were correct, she had circled round, ending near the guard tower.

There, she sought shelter, and when she woke and started out again, she seemed to have fallen in the river, north of where he found her.

“I might have been too late,” Garrett whispered, smoothing her blonde curls as she sat on Abigail’s lap looking eagerly out the window. “A few minutes more and I would have been too late. God.”

“No,” Abigail said, touching his arm. “You were meant to find her.”

Garrett smiled and regarded his love. “Like I was meant to find you.”

Then Emily screamed, “Papa!” and old Lester stopped the carriage.

Through the open door, they watched Emily run and fly into Marcus’s arms, Jade right behind him, enough tears among them to sink a ship.

Abigail choked on a sob. Garrett’s lodged in his throat. He soothed it with his lover’s kiss, celebrating every gift that had come to them, and a future he thought never to have. He even took a moment, holding Abigail close, to send a prayer heavenward for the future of the embracing trio in the middle of the road.

The day of Garrett and Abigail’s wedding dawned gray and cloudy, but in all hearts, the sun shone bright.

Jade rode with Abby in the carriage.

Marcus waited beside Garrett at the altar.

St. Wilfred’s was a charming country church, without ninth, sixth or even second nave. Not the resting place of a monarch, but of souls who never travelled beyond the Sussex coast. Neither its spire nor its foundations were of monastic origin, nor had it ever been the seat of a bishop.

Yet it remained one of Jade’s favourite churches for its small size and simple elegance. As she entered beside the bride, she saw it looked more beautiful filled with wedding guests and a multitude of yellow roses.

Abigail stopped beneath the gothic entrance, a most beautiful, radiant bride, her perfection enhanced by the love in her eyes.

As cherubs gazed from above and doves cooed in the eaves, Jade walked first up the aisle to the spot from whence she would stand witness beside the man she could never take for husband. Deep inside, she might feel like weeping because of it, but watching Abigail continue on to the handsome scamp who gave her his hand and heart, Jade couldn’t help but rejoice.

High in Ivy’s arms, Emily kept her gaze trained on them throughout the ceremony. They dared not promise never to leave her, for one of them eventually must—though they had not yet determined which of them would—so it had been impossible to set her fears to rest.