Secrets in the Mist Read online

  “You couldn’t understand why I would need more time?” I retorted, my growing outrage overriding any contrition I felt. “I can’t believe you would think I would leap at the chance to marry you, as if I was still seventeen. As if you hadn’t already trampled on my heart and my affection once before. I blindly adored you then, Robert, but I’m certainly awakened to your faults now. You did that. You were the one who opened my eyes. You can’t expect me to blindfold myself now that you’ve changed your mind.”

  His cheeks crested with color. “Well, that doesn’t excuse your kissing that wherry man.”

  “I never said it did.”

  He stepped toward me, pointing at the ground. “Do you know what a fool you’ve made me feel?”

  Guilt flooded me at the pain I heard in his voice masked by his anger. Or was it simply wounded pride?

  He turned to stare out over the marshes, his jaw working furiously.

  “I’m sorry, Robert. I never intended to hurt you.” I sighed, staring down at the tips of my boots where they emerged from beneath the oversized hem of my dress. “The truth is I needed the extra time to decide because I’m unsure of my feelings for you. We so recently reconciled. And with everything with Father…well, I thought you deserved a wife who wasn’t marrying you out of necessity.”

  Robert’s expression softened, though a furrow still marred his brow. “I thought we were friends again. Maybe not like before. Maybe not like when we were more than just friendly. But I thought we were on our way to being so.”

  “Maybe,” I answered vaguely. “But there are some things I must do first. Matters I must address before I can give you my answer.”

  Robert lifted his chin. “And the wherry man?”

  I smiled tightly. “Has been a good friend.” I opened my mouth to try to explain further, but then decided against it. Instead, I shook my head. “There’s nothing more.” There couldn’t be.

  His eyes searched my face, looking for something I wasn’t sure I could give him.

  The cry of a marsh harrier broke the silence of the fens, and I turned to watch its flight over the reeds. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the overgrown lawn. Soon the crickets and other insects living among the fens would begin their nightly chorus, but for now the air was hushed and hollow, trailing its fingers lightly over the tips of the marsh grass.

  “I’m going away for a few days,” Robert said.

  I looked at him, feeling something akin to alarm. The memory of what had happened the last time we were almost engaged and he had gone away still gripped me.

  “When I return, I would like your answer.” He spoke calmly, but there was an edge to his voice I’d not often heard him use. “I do not think that is too much to ask.”

  He was right, but that didn’t stop the panic from surging through my veins, reminding me I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t tell him that, however. I merely nodded. “I understand.”

  Robert moved forward another step, and I fought the urge to stiffen when he lifted a finger to tilt my chin up. He stared down into my eyes, almost goading me, before pressing a kiss to my lips. It was brief, though not chaste, and it made me feel nothing. Not even the tingles I recalled his kisses inspiring when we were younger. But perhaps even more telling was the fact that the sight of him walking away did not fill me with either longing or regret. Just cold uncertainty.

  I watched until he disappeared around the corner of the cottage without a backward glance, wishing I understood him. There had been a time when I thought I knew him as well as I knew myself, but I had been proven terribly wrong. I wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

  I heaved a heavy sigh and tipped my head back to look up at the deepening sky.

  That’s when I sensed him.

  I turned my head as he emerged from the trail leading to the dock, and I tensed. “How long how you been hiding down that path?”

  Jack wisely kept his distance. “Long enough.”

  “And you didn’t think to announce yourself?” I demanded.

  His eyebrows lifted. “Given the nature of the conversation and what Rockland witnessed earlier, I thought it best to remain concealed. It seemed revealing my presence would only hurt matters further.”

  I flushed. He was right. Any apologies and assurances I had made would have been futile had Jack suddenly appeared at my home. But, of course, if Robert was Himself, he must already know Jack was well acquainted with my home. It also meant his witnessing our embrace might very well have endangered Jack, and yet he didn’t seem particularly concerned.

  I crossed my arms over my chest in frustration. “Why are you here?”

  He sidled a few steps closer. “I came to be certain you were well. To be sure you’d made it home without incident.”

  I studied him through my lashes, uncertain how to respond. He’d escorted me home numerous times before with the pretense he was seeing to my safety, but we both knew he was truly keeping an eye on me, making sure I didn’t share information with anyone. This time seemed different.

  When I’d pulled away from him in embarrassment at being caught kissing him and then chased after Robert I thought Jack would wish to avoid me. Instead, he’d followed me to my home and was now gazing down at me without the least bit of rancor to mar his expression. It all left me confounded. I didn’t know what to think.

  “Well, I have. Made it home safely,” I clarified. “I was about to drink a cup of tea and retire when Mr. Rockland decided to pay his unexpected visit.”

  “I suppose you can’t blame him.”

  “No,” I admitted, though I wanted to point out that Robert could have spoken to me at Greenlaws had he not run away.

  Jack turned to glance back in the direction he’d come. “So…we’re friends?” His gaze locked with mine and I realized he was referring to what he’d overheard me tell Robert.

  “Yes, I suppose so. What else would you call us?”

  His eyes dipped to my lips and the air between us suddenly seemed thick with unspoken things. “We could be something more,” he proposed in a deep tone that made my insides flutter.

  But this time I kept my head about me, suspecting that what he was suggesting was not entirely honorable. And even if it was, we both already knew the answer.

  “No, we can’t.”

  Jack’s expression shuttered and he nodded. “Get some rest,” he instructed, shifting his feet toward the marsh path. “I’ll contact you in a few days after I receive word of when you will be needed next.”

  To smuggle more goods.

  Somehow in the tumult of Robert stumbling upon me kissing Jack I’d almost forgotten everything else that had happened that day. The realization was enough to make my head spin.

  I pressed a hand to my temple and nodded, but Jack had already begun to retreat down the path to the dock, the reeds swaying in his wake. I didn’t try to stop him, but I felt a twinge in my chest at his departure all the same.

  Chapter 25

  I

  n spite of the heavy worries weighing on my conscience, or perhaps because of them, I tumbled into sleep easily that night, too exhausted to resist. The morning was already half gone when I awoke and another half hour passed before I finally descended the stairs in search of some sustenance. As I did so, I noticed the door to my father’s study stood open and I moved forward to greet Mrs. Brittle, expecting to find her straightening up after my father.

  “Good morning,” I began before stumbling to a stop upon seeing my father seated before his desk. Mrs. Brittle was nowhere to be found.

  His face was wan and haggard, which in and of itself was not surprising after a night spent drinking, but there was something different this time. Normally his face exhibited at least some trace of color across the crests of his cheeks or about his mouth, but today even that was washed away. His red-rimmed eyes stared unseeing down at the papers strewn across the surface of his desk. He’d yet to lift his eyes to acknowledge my presence, and I thought to leave bef
ore he did, uncertain what this new development meant. But before I could take more than a step, he surprised me by speaking.

  “Elinore, might I have a word,” he murmured in a voice ravaged by too many years of strong drink.

  I stiffened. Father never called me by my given name. It was always Ella. Not unless something was very wrong or I was about to receive a strongly-worded scolding. Of the two alternatives, I thought I preferred the latter, given that the last two times he’d delivered news to me when something had been very wrong was to tell me of Mother’s and then Erik’s death.

  “Yes, Father?” I inquired, approaching his desk.

  He still did not lift his gaze, and I began to wonder if this was about my outburst two nights prior. That is, until I saw that he was clutching a letter. I leaned closer to see, wondering if Robert had followed through on his threat to inform Father of my recent activities. If he had, so help me, I would give him a tongue-lashing he wouldn’t soon forget. Or perhaps I would send Father after him when he was in one of his more sullen moods. Maybe Robert would feel a bit more sympathy if he had to suffer one of my father’s drunken, rambling rants.

  But even at such an awkward angle I could tell the handwriting was not Robert’s. It was too neat, too precise. Likely the work of a clerk or a secretary.

  Father’s hand shook, rattling the paper as he lifted it. “You wrote to the earl, your grandfather?”

  My gaze darted to the letter and then back up to meet Father’s eyes as he finally looked at me. Grandfather had replied?

  “You told them about me.”

  It was an accusation, even softly spoken, and a slow trickle of guilt began inside me. “I told them you were ill and dying.” Which was essentially the truth, and far easier to admit than the fact that my father was a drunkard who cared little what happened to me.

  The letter fell from his grasp as shock radiated across his face. Did he not realize he was drinking himself into an early grave?

  I frowned. “When you’re gone, your stipend will stop, and I won’t have the income to house or even feed myself.” I crossed my arms over my chest, gripping my elbows against the chill of that prospect. “I cannot afford to wait until then to fathom what I should do.”

  Father stared up at me and I could tell he was grappling with these thoughts for the first time. That realization snapped something inside me. How could he be so oblivious to everything around him? How could he be so selfish that he hadn’t given any consideration to his daughter’s future?

  I bit my tongue against the hot words I wanted to say to him, but I did not try to mask the fury I felt, and Father saw it. His brow furrowed in answering anger.

  “Well, the earl has responded true to form. The heartless wretch has offered to find you a position as some thankless dowager’s companion, an unpaid drudge. But, here…” he thrust the letter at me “…you can read it for yourself.”

  I snatched up the crisp vellum, feeling my heart sink at his pronouncement. I’d been prepared for such an eventuality, or at least I’d told myself I was. But it was evident now I’d been holding out hope that my grandfather might be eager to see me, and offer to take me into his home. I folded the paper carefully and stuffed it into my pocket, choosing to read it later when I was alone, especially after seeing the almost smug expression on Father’s face at this confirmation he’d been right about the earl. I wanted to wipe it away.

  “Well, at least he’s offered me something,” I told him. “That’s better than starvation. And in this position I assume I won’t be forced to hide brandy bottles from the revenue men.”

  I didn’t stay to see his reaction, turning on my heel to march out the door. I hoped he choked on the knowledge that it might be the father-in-law he so loathed who secured his daughter’s future and not himself. If he even thought of me at all.

  ~ ~ ~

  I spent the next few days helping Mrs. Brittle about the cottage, doing my best to ignore the doubts and worries swirling inside me. I’d yet to reply to my grandfather or make a decision about Robert, and I was avoiding Greenlaws. Even though Robert was currently away, Kate was still home, and after her callous behavior during our last encounter I wasn’t eager to see her.

  So it came as some surprise when I looked up from the patch of carrots I was tending in the garden one morning to see her standing on the opposite side of the gate. I didn’t know how long she’d been watching me, but I suspected it wasn’t long. Patience had never been one of Kate’s virtues.

  She shook her head. “Really, Ella. That bonnet is atrocious. I much prefer the one you were carrying the other day.”

  Her comment startled a smile out of me because it was so typically Kate. I pushed to my feet, dusting dirt off my apron and the front of my dress.

  “Yes, well, not everyone dresses smartly for gardening. After all, someone must do the dirty work.”

  She smiled. “True.”

  I regarded her across the distance between us, making no move to inch closer. Surely she didn’t think matters between us could be made better by a simple quip. It was reassuring to hear her familiar banter, but the awkwardness between us over the past week and more couldn’t be ignored.

  Kate seemed to sense this, for her smile faded. She reached out to run an elegantly gloved finger over the chipped paint of the fence. “Do you have a moment for us to speak?”

  I studied her face beneath the pale pink blossom-colored brim of her bonnet, undoubtedly crafted to match her sarsenet gown trimmed with tufted Chinese silk fringe. Another special order procured by Captain Haywood, perhaps?

  “Of course.”

  I removed my apron and gardening gloves and draped them over the fence before joining Kate on the other side. We strolled silently toward our lone bench tucked between two rose bushes on the far end of the fence line opposite the sycamore tree. Like Greenlaws’ bushes, the buds had already been clipped, but the perfume of Mrs. Brittle’s oxlips still scented the air.

  The prospect from the bench was nothing to admire, most of it being blocked by the untrimmed reeds and marsh grasses behind our house, but at least we weren’t facing the weathered boards of the cottage. It had been one of my mother’s favorite places to sit and read, and many a night from my window I had spied her and my father seated there, their heads tilted toward each other. Therefore I usually avoided it, not wanting to dredge up those memories, but today I wished to avoid the sparse rooms of the house more.

  We sat side by side, Kate in her fashionable frock and me in my drab, dirt-smeared hand-me-down, and at first neither of us spoke. In the years since my mother’s death, as my situation deteriorated, I had rarely let the differences in my and Kate’s circumstances bother me. The truth was she had always cared more about clothing and the latest fashion plates than I did. Of course, I had enjoyed beautiful dresses and hats and shoes, but I’d never needed to impress anyone. Robert had always liked me just as well romping through the marsh in an old, tattered dress as in my fanciest gown, and my mother had loved me the same in any light. She saved her scolds and disappointment for poor behavior, not for my appearance.

  I knew Kate’s life had not been so fortunate in that regard. Her mother, so beloved by everyone else for her sweet nature, had been impossible to please. No matter how Kate tried, nothing was good enough. Her naturally exuberant, fun-loving disposition seemed to be the opposite of the meek, compliant daughter Mrs. Rockland wanted. Somehow the only thing they’d been able to agree upon was clothes. Her mother might fault her figure or her posture, and her conversation and demeanor were never genteel enough, but her wardrobe was always impeccable.

  Because of this I never begrudged her beautiful gowns, even if I did envy them from time to time as mine were patched and mended to last another season. That is, until this past week, for now I strongly suspected most of Kate’s wardrobe was fashioned from smuggled goods. Did Kate know where the fabric that made her dresses came from? Did she care? And what of her bonnets, and gloves, and stockings? Before, I’
d always thought she sent for items from London to supplement the items she purchased on trips to Norwich. Now, I strongly doubted it. Had I been more interested in such things I probably would have noticed sooner.

  I was trying to think of a way to ask her without accusing her outright when she spoke.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Robert’s marriage proposal?” She turned to look down her nose at me in that annoying manner of hers, but I knew her well enough to realize that this display of indignation was meant to mask the hurt she truly felt.

  “I meant to,” I replied calmly. “That day I went looking for you in the garden.”

  Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “When you met Jack?”

  I didn’t react to her goading comment. We would discuss that later. “Yes. Your brother had just asked me, and after everything that happened before, I believed you deserved the right to express your opinion.”

  “But you didn’t tell me.”

  I frowned, staring at the amber tips of the reeds where they met the azure sky. “I didn’t know how I felt about his proposal. I didn’t know whether I was pleased or not. If I even wanted to say yes. It seemed like I should at least have some idea what I wanted before I spoke to you. And I did plan to speak to you before I gave Robert any sort of answer.”

  Kate’s brow did not clear, but her shoulders did relax. “But that was over a fortnight ago. You still don’t know what you want?”

  I brushed at a stubborn streak of dirt on my gray serge skirt. “It’s complicated.”

  Kate did not try to argue. She knew as well as anyone how fraught my and Robert’s past was.

  “Did Robert tell you?” I asked, curious if he’d been more astute and considerate of his sister than I’d given him credit for.

  “No.” She seemed reluctant to say more, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “Did you overhear us discussing it?”