The Bride Insists (27 page)

Jamie shut himself in the office once again. And the day began its endless reel toward another empty night. There were tasks waiting on his desk—orders to be sent, proposals to approve. But his drive to restore Trehearth suddenly seemed hollow and meaningless. Why was he doing it, except as a home for his family? Clare was his family. If she wasn't here to share the place… He'd have to carry on, of course. He owed it to his sisters, to his name. All his life, he'd tried to carry on, even when he made a hash of it. But it would be mere plodding without the… the glow, the joy, she'd brought to his efforts.

As darkness approached, Jamie's wish for a drink came back even stronger. The longing for oblivion made him sweat and tremble, almost distracting him from other pains. He forced himself to appear at dinner, though he couldn't manage much conversation. Back in the estate office, he paced again. It was terrible to realize how his body urged him toward the liquid solace he'd used for so long. He had reason to be glad he'd moved the bottles. If they'd been in their old spot, he feared he would have succumbed.

Sometime after midnight, he dragged himself up to bed, and exhaustion at last let him sleep for a few hours. When he woke more rested, it was with an idea fully formed in his mind. His sisters had a hiding place that no one had ever found. He couldn't believe that he hadn't remembered this before. He was an idiot, a fool. If he hadn't been so agitated and tired, he would have recalled it sooner. Jamie threw on his clothes and went to find Tamsyn and Tegan. But they weren't in their room, or the dining room waiting for breakfast. They weren't in the stables cosseting their ponies. They weren't throwing a ball for Randolph on the grounds. In fact, they were nowhere to be found. Again.

Furious, no longer caring what anybody thought, Jamie went to rap on the door of Selina Newton's bedchamber. When she opened it—fully dressed, thank God—he said, “My sisters know where Clare has gone.” It wasn't a question.

“I think they do,” Selina replied with little sign of surprise. “But they didn't confide in me.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

Selina hadn't slept well, and she was becoming rather weary of the Trehearth family drama. “I don't really care. You will believe what you like, Lord Trehearth. I do not lie.”

Even through his anger and disappointment, Jamie knew she prided herself on this quality. He glared into her hazel eyes and saw no deception there. She didn't know. He'd hit another dead end. And now his sisters were gone as well as his wife. Jamie had no idea what to do next.

Tess's cottage was a peaceful place, if more rustic than any other dwelling Clare had inhabited. She enjoyed the serene atmosphere, the clean herbal scents, and the quick sensitivity of the old woman who lived here. Tess always seemed to know when she wished to be silent and when a few words of conversation would be welcome. She didn't offer specific advice, as Clare never asked for any. But she had an ever-ready store of cheerful and sympathetic words. At the same time, Clare acknowledged that she found the interior of the little house dim and missed hot water in the morning, and real tea, which was too expensive for Tess's simple larder. She knew that she caused more work for her hostess as well, though she tried to be helpful. She would have to go soon. And so she would have to decide what that meant, exactly.

Fortunately, the weather remained warm and sunny, and Clare was able to sit outside for hours, tucked into a hidden dell near the little spring on the other side of the hill. The unfamiliarity of each detail of her day and the distance from home gave her the respite she needed to grapple with her thoughts, and also to consider what was happening in her body. Now that she was consciously aware of it, she could feel internal changes. A child coming altered so many things. She was a wife, and soon to be a mother. What could be more important?

Yet Jamie's betrayal couldn't be simply set aside. If he could treat her so… smile and caress and still plot to undermine their promises, what sort of man was he? What other moral lapses lurked behind his handsome face? The question felt so wrong-headed. She'd lived with him and seen him act nobly. She knew him! She couldn't believe her judgment was so flawed. Yet the proof had been there on the page. All this time he'd just been lulling her, waiting for his trap to snap shut. Could she let her child learn from such a blackguard? But he wasn't!

At this point in the debate, which came round again and again, Clare usually had to resist tearing her hair. Exhausted, miserable, she found no way out of the maze that her life had become. The only certainty was: she had to go home and confront Jamie. Let him explain what he thought he was doing! She'd weathered the initial shock. She no longer had that excuse. It was time to leave.

She told herself this on the third morning, as she sat on a bit of old blanket under the spreading oak beside the spring. Bits of cloth and ribbon fluttered from the branches, tied there by supplicants from around the countryside. Clare was wondering if they'd gotten their wishes when Tamsyn walked slowly around the hill and stood before her. Her posture and expression told Clare that something serious was amiss. “What is it?” she said, ready to rise. “What's wrong?”

Tamsyn lifted one shoulder, ambivalence in every line of her body. “I know we promised. And we never break our promises. But Jamie's very sad. And tired. He hardly ever talks. Except when he shouted once. He just stays shut in the estate office. Tegan thinks we have to bring him here.” She hung her head.

The strain of holding Clare's secret showed on the girl's face. It wasn't fair to leave this weighing on the twins. She'd indulged herself too long already.

“Also, he's going to figure out that we hid you,” Tamsyn added. “Mrs. Newton already did. She asked us right away. But we didn't tell!” She looked at Clare anxiously.

“You did very well. Thank you. I'm grateful to you both. But you've done enough. Tegan's right. You should bring your brother here.” It would be better to talk to him far from the house, Clare realized. They could say what they liked without being overheard. They could settle things and present the result with a united front. A tremor went along Clare's nerves. What would he say? How could he justify what he'd done? As much as she yearned for the way things had been, she didn't see how it was possible.

Tamsyn let out a sigh of relief. “Tegan's hiding near the house. She's going to bring him if I don't come back in two hours.”

Even in her turmoil, Clare had to smile.

***

It was midmorning. Jamie was back at his desk. The twins were still missing. Selina Newton had fled to the vicarage. So he'd been abandoned by every vestige of family. The servants knew enough not to enter this room. Here he could brood in solitary state, he thought savagely. It was a splendid opportunity to review every tragedy that had befallen him, every mistake he'd ever made in his life. And imagine, oh yes, with the infuriating clarity of hindsight, what he should have done instead. Jamie purposely stoked the energy of anger, using it to stave off his growing despair.

He didn't hear Tegan slip into the room; she was simply there, suddenly, standing before him, solemn as a judge. Jamie shot to his feet. “Where is Clare?” he demanded, coming around the desk. “Don't bother to tell me that you don't know, because I won't bel…”

“I came to take you to her.”

“…lieve you.” Her words penetrated, and he stopped short, arms outstretched to grab her in case she tried to flee. “What? Where?”

Taking this literally, Tegan said, “It's about an hour's walk. More, maybe.”

“We'll ride,” said Jamie curtly. He started for the door, paused, went back for the copy of his letter to the solicitor. With the page in his pocket, he headed for the stables, only belatedly noticing that Tegan had to run to keep up.

“We're not allowed on our ponies,” his sister pointed out, trotting beside him.

“You are if I say so.” Jamie called for Albert and ordered his horse and Tegan's pony to be saddled. Impatience tore at him. He went to help the stableman adjust and buckle.

“Tamsyn's pony too,” put in Tegan.

Jamie didn't object. He did gibe when Randolph rose from a nest of straw in an empty stall and attempted to join the party, remembering the dog's first rough greeting of Clare in the courtyard. It would not do to repeat that now. At least he could ensure this one small thing.

It seemed an endless time before they set off, Tegan leading Tamsyn's pony behind her. All his faculties were concentrated on getting to Clare. Restraining his urge to kick his mount into a gallop, Jamie followed his sister along a twisting, overgrown trail.

The ride seemed to last forever, but it wasn't actually very long. Jamie noticed when they left the bounds of Trehearth. He wasn't as familiar with the holdings in this direction, though he would have sworn they'd come this way during the search for the twins.

Tegan led him through a patch of forest and into a dell. He didn't realize until they were quite close that it contained a dwelling. The place looked like part of the adjoining hill. He started to pull up, but an ancient woman standing in the low doorway waved them on. His sister rode around the mound of thatch and the hill. Beyond the rise stood a great oak tree, fluttering with bits of colored cloth.

Peripherally, Jamie noticed this, as well as Tamsyn jumping up and running to greet her pony. But really his attention was focused on Clare, sitting under the branches like a fairy in her bower. He threw himself off his horse and ran to kneel beside her. “It was a mistake,” he cried. He pulled the letter from his pocket and thrust it at her. “I never meant it.”

As Clare smoothed out the page and began to read, Tamsyn jumped onto her pony. She tugged at Tegan's pony's reins as well, urging her away. Tegan resisted briefly, her dark eyes fixed on the pair under the tree. Then she gave in, and the twins rode off toward Tess's cottage.

When Clare's pale green eyes came up to look at him again, Jamie added, “I was drunk. I barely remember anything about that morning. I never would have signed such a document if I'd had my wits about me.” He wasn't going to spare himself. “It's no proper excuse, and I am so sorry.”

“Drunk,” repeated Clare. She looked bewildered and deeply pained.

Wincing at her expression, Jamie started at the beginning. “I was… you know I was behaving like a damn fool in London. I'd had far too much champagne, and I was talking with your cousin. I suppose I must have… complained about how matters stood between us. Your cousin took it upon himself to ferry me over to this solicitor.” That was odd, come to think of it. Jamie started to add that he hadn't asked the man to do anything of the kind, that it had been a surprise. But that didn't justify his actions. “I was befuddled by drink, and they gave me more. Not that it wasn't my fault. It was. They shoved some document in front of me and kept at me to sign it. And I did.” Clare was scowling. He couldn't bear it. “I didn't even know what it was about. But I know that doesn't excuse it. I've vowed never to touch a drop again. Clare. Please say you'll forgive me.”

“Simon,” Clare said. Slowly her frown eased. “It was Simon.” At last, she met Jamie's gaze. “He saw a chance and took advantage of it. He's very good at that. He would do anything to hurt me.”

“Your cousin would?”

“My cousin, yes, but no friend.” Slowly, Clare told the story of the family estrangement—of Simon's taking her home, of his refusal to help her mother when she was ill. “I don't know all the history of it,” she finished. “Or why Simon can never let it go. But he hasn't, not for a moment.”

“If I'd known that you and he were at odds…” Would that have prevented him from sharing his sodden ramblings? Jamie truly believed that it would. “You never spoke of your family.”

“It seemed like old bad news. I saw no reason to bring it up.” Clare smiled sadly. “But then, the things we didn't know about each other have proved treacherous. I should have confided in you.”

Jamie nodded. “Old wounds trip us up.” He swallowed and pushed on. “Everyone suspects my father took his own life, you know. I've always believed it, that he chose the coward's way out. Everything in my life went out of control on the day I got the news of his death.”

Clare nodded. “It feels like the end of the world.”

Jamie looked at her and saw real understanding in her eyes. It wasn't anything like pity or even simple compassion. It was the comradeship of shared anguish. “I've hated him for it.” Jamie had never said this aloud before. “Whether he was heedless because of his grief over my mother's death, or he jumped from that cliff… The thing is, he knew how badly the estate stood. He had two infant daughters. He knew very well the responsibility would fall to me.”

“And you were only a boy.”

“Shouldn't he have taken more care?” It came out like the plea of a much younger Jamie.

Clare reached over and took his hand. They gazed into each other's eyes, recognizing similar struggles, acknowledging the daring of honesty, the risk of trust.

But one more admission weighed on Jamie. “When it happened, I told myself I'd never be a father like that. I'd never abandon any child of mine. But then, when I would come home to Trehearth, the memories and the… the doom hanging over the place made it unbearable. I broke that vow. I stuck my head in a bottle, and I left my sisters alone.”

He tried to pull his hand away, but Clare kept hold of it. “I think the strain was just too much for a boy still in school.”

“I can't excuse myself so easily. I've made so many mistakes.” His free hand struck the blanket.

“Who among us has not?” Clare pointed out.

Jamie turned to her. “I'm going to do my utmost to be someone my sisters can rely on from now on. And you. If you'll forgive me?” Unconsciously, his hand tightened almost painfully on hers.

There wasn't so very much to forgive. He hadn't been the sneaking hypocrite she'd feared when she opened that dreadful envelope. She'd known he couldn't be! They'd been getting on so well before that thunderbolt ripped through the household. He'd been trying so hard. “Yes. Of course. If you will forgive me as well.”

“For what?” Jamie wondered.

“I should have waited to speak to you instead of running away. I should have trusted that there was an explanation.”

“I hadn't given you much reason to trust. But I shall, every day, for the rest of our lives. I swear it.”

“That's fortunate.” Clare felt as if light was running throughout her body. “Because you're going to have a new opportunity to demonstrate your reliability quite soon.”

“What?”

Clare laid her free hand on her midsection. “There'll be a child in the winter. We'll both have many chances to get it right… and wrong, I imagine.” She gave him a tremulous smile.

Jamie stared at her—delight and fear and hope and surprise muddling his mind. A torrent of love swept all of them away. With a cry of triumph, he pulled her into his arms.

***

Tamsyn and Tegan eased back from the thicket near the oak from which they'd been observing this interesting meeting. It wasn't hard to slip away. Jamie and Clare were unaware of anything outside themselves. The twins made their way back to the spot where they'd tied their ponies and stood for a moment sharing a solemn gaze. Some of what they'd heard had stirred up sadness. They didn't need to speak to see it in each other or to offer comfort. Gradually their expressions eased.

“They'll stay here now,” said Tamsyn.

More silent communication passed between the twins. Their faces lightened further.

“And we'll have a new brother,” Tegan said.

“Nephew,” corrected her sister. “Or niece.”

A slow smile spread over Tegan's elfin features. “He'll have to call us auntie.”

Tamsyn smiled back. “And treat us with proper respect.”

Tegan nodded appreciatively. “We'll teach him—”

“Or her.”

“Or her. The way out the cellar window.”

“And how to get round Anna when she's cross.”

“And the best berry patch.”

“The trunk full of old sabers in the attic.”

“And… and everything!”

The twins' dark eyes sparkled. Minds bursting with plans, they waited with what patience they could summon for their family to be ready to head home.