Chapter Twenty
Later that morning, Finn, still fighting his anger, apologised to everyone but refused to come to lunch. He needed to think, to breathe and to work off the fury that had swamped him as the truth of the Marchville business pretty much boxed his ears.
Hecate nodded, her eyes worried, but understanding his emotional state. “Go. Walk. Perhaps some ideas might come to you.”
“Thank you,” he answered, from the bottom of his heart. To know he wasn’t going to be questioned, or patted on the shoulder, or told everything was going to be all right…well, it mattered that others understood. It mattered that she understood.
Just one more thing on his list of reasons why Hecate is perfect for me.
Wrapping himself in his cloak, he left Doireann Vale, striding down the drive and onto the lane that led north—to the sea.
It was grey and brisk, but neither raining nor snowing at the moment so, grateful for that at least, Finn set out at a good pace, walking between hedgerows of dry bushes and past trees whose bare branches made stark patterns against the sky.
Before too long, the harsh cries of seagulls could be heard, and the country lad inside him knew that a storm at sea was likely. Gulls could tell before anyone else, except the odd sailor or two, and flew inland further than usual if bad weather was imminent.
Sure enough, within half an hour, Finn reached the clifftop and looked out onto a sea that could best be described as ugly.
The clouds were low, blurring the horizon, and waves tumbled and crashed in clouds of grey and white spume against the rocks and the scant beach below. The ocean heaved, throwing up waves that looked large to Finn, but must have looked like small mountains from the shoreline. Plumes of spray blew from their tops, adding to the fury that boiled beneath his gaze.
A shudder hit him, and he moved to the bench set by some large stones. Sitting, he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the water lashing the rocks below.
Somewhere out there, across the turbulence, lay his homeland.
Ireland.
He knew now the devastation that famine and disease had caused, and once more the realisation of how much he’d lost shook him. The return of his memories brought more than just the facts about his life and his escape from the prison ship. It had brought back the moment he’d learned his mother had died…that there was barely anything left now in Ahane, or anywhere else in Ireland for that matter. He had no idea what had happened to his father’s family in Derrynane, and made a mental note to himself to at least write and let them know he was still alive.
Yet although sorrow slid through his body like a slow and mournful river, at the back of his mind lurked Hecate’s words. “You have a new family here at Doireann Vale.”
He wanted desperately to believe her. To know that Dal and Augusta and Hecate herself, not to mention Bub, viewed themselves as his family and would always welcome him.
There was one way to ensure it, of course.
He could do what he had thought about, dreamed about and yearned to do. He could go down on one knee and ask Hecate to marry him.
But…as always happened when that thought crossed his mind, he came up short against the wall that bore the words Nothing To Offer Her.
He was penniless, homeless, and the only skill he knew was soldiering. What kind of man asked a woman like Hecate, a magic-filled mystery who was also the daughter of a baron, to marry him?
He would have to live off her money. Many men would have been happy to do just that, but Finn wasn’t one of them.
It couldn’t possibly work. And that was the conclusion that depressed him most of all.
He fought his way past it, and turned to consider the issue of the new Lord Faversill. The unconscionable act of shooting a fellow officer, in the back no less, reduced his Lordship to little better than the mud beneath his boots. Finn wished he knew how to gnash his teeth, because this was certainly a moment when gnashing would have come in handy.
Restless, he rose from the bench, took a last look at the sea, and turned for home.
Home. Doireann Vale.
So far away from the hell that had been Waterloo, and yet still suffering the after-effects. Unlike Aubrey DeWitt, who was enjoying the spoils of war. The ones he’d made certain would be his.
What could they do about it? For it was wrong. Terribly wrong. And wrongs, in Finn’s book, should be righted if at all possible. But being tucked away in a tiny Devon estate, lovely though it was, offered little hope that any righting of wrongs could be accomplished from here.
One would have to be where Lord Faversill was, at least. Even then it would be Finn’s word against his Lordship’s. But if he were to show up in London…to let Faversill see him…
His step quickened as he headed back to the house, ideas pushing each other around inside his mind. One thread ran through all of them, and as he tossed his cloak on a chair in the hall and hurried into the small parlour, he saw three faces turn toward him.
“We have to go to…”
“London.” Hecate finished his sentence with a grin. “Yes. Yes, we do.”
“How…” his jaw dropped and his mind blanked, leaving him speechless.
“Never mind that,” she waved it away. “First we have to visit Richard, and then Ridlington Chase. After that, it’s on to London, where we shall put an end to that imposter’s claim to the Faversill estate.”
“Uh…” Bereft of words, Finn simply stared at Hecate, wondering if he could ever love her more than he did that minute.
*~~*~~*
As soon as the decision was made, the Doireann Vale household leapt into action.
Well, some of the residents leapt into action, others scratched their heads and wondered if their mistress had completely lost her mind.
“It’s not a good time of the year to travel, Miss Hecate,” said Dal sombrely. “The roads, it’s already snowed…you have no idea what kind of weather you’ll drive into…”
“I know that, Dal. Truly.” Hecate’s response was placid. She had determined on the way forward, and all her senses were approving it. She was doing the right thing. However, she remained quiet for a moment and watched her friend as he paced around the room.
Opening her mind, she allowed herself to see his emotions, swirling around him in shades of greens and blues. Indecision. Confusion. Uncertainty. Good God. He didn’t want to leave.
It hit her so clearly she almost gasped. Why hadn’t she seen it before? That question was simple to answer. She was so wrapped up in Finn that she’d failed to see what else was happening around her. Within moments she had formed a stratagem she hoped would help ease his mind.
“Dal, I do need to ask a favour of you. And I hope you’ll agree…” She framed her next words carefully. “You know how much I love Doireann Vale. This house has come to mean so much to me. A home of my very own, with friends and acquaintances, like a garden that is just beginning to flower.”
He nodded. “I do indeed. It has become home to me also.”
“I’m glad,” she smiled. “This trip I must make with Finn…and please believe me, I must make it, Dal—since everything I trust is telling me it’s right—this trip will leave Doireann Vale without a protector.” She took a breath. “Unless you would be kind enough to stay and look after it for me.” Dal’s quick glance at her did not go unnoticed. “Of course, I hope that Lady Augusta will remain here as well, since I believe she is not interested in returning to the Metropolis. I haven’t discussed it with her yet, but should the two of you be here in my absence…well, I cannot begin to tell you how much worry that would lift from my shoulders.”
He was silent for long moments.
Then he met her gaze. “You would travel without me at your side?”
She crossed the room and laid a hand on his sleeve. “At some point in my life, I must. We both know that.”
He nodded. “Indeed yes, this is true.” He looked out the window. “I have often wondered when the time would come that you no longer needed me.”
“Oh no, Dal,” Hecate frowned. “I will always need you. I am stronger with you at my side, knowing that I have something so precious as your friendship and support. You are as necessary to me as breathing, and you are part of my family. I could not care for you more if you were, in truth, my brother.”
At that he turned and looked down at her, his face creasing into a gentle smile, his eyes warm. “I echo your sentiments, dear Miss Hecate. Our lives have been enriched by this knowing of each other, I think.”
“That is very true, Dal. Although I will say that you have done more enriching than I have. We are somewhat uneven on that scale.”
“Not so,” he disagreed. “You have treated me with respect. You have trusted me, taken me into your confidence and never, for one moment, did I feel that the colour of my skin or the nature of my upbringing made a jot of difference to you.” He placed his hand over hers. “I would never have received such treatment from anyone else in this country but you, Miss Hecate. Believe me when I say that knowing you has enriched me most fully.”
She battled tears. Dal’s words came as a complete surprise, but after a few moments, she accepted the truth of them. Dal was Indian through and through, and in the eyes of far too many British, he was not “equal”. It was sad, but he was right…it was indeed the way of the world.
“We’re lucky we found each other,” she said, taking a rare liberty and leaning her head against his shoulder. “So you won’t mind remaining here while Finn and I go to London?”
“As long as you promise to take care of yourself, Miss Hecate,” he admonished sternly. “I shall inform Mr. Finn of his duties toward you. You are not to overtax yourself. You are to eat properly…”
Hecate laughed. “Dear Dal. Thank you for being you. I’m sure that Finn will welcome your words of wisdom.” She paused. “I trust him, Dal. Almost as much as I trust you. He is a caring man; I’ve seen that in his heart. He has been through some terrible times and those fires have strengthened his resolve, I believe.”
“He is the one, then?”
Dal was probably the only person who could ask that question using those words. She understood.
“Yes.” She swallowed, finally accepting the inevitable. “He’s the one.”
“Then be sure he makes you happy, and go to London with my blessings.” Dal freed his arm and put it around her shoulders, giving her an unexpected and surprising hug.
It moved her deeply.
For a moment, neither spoke, then she looked up. “Will you mind Lady Augusta staying?”
He met her gaze—then grinned. “No, Miss Hecate. I shall not mind Lady Augusta staying. Nor do I believe the lady herself would be averse to my company. And you will ask no further questions on that topic.”
She grinned back. “I will not. But I will mention that she is, beneath the town bronze, a good woman who has also undergone many difficult trials in her life. Some of her choices were unwise, but we all learn from our mistakes, do we not?”
“So true.”
Their private interlude ended with the arrival of Frank Worsnop, who declared that Mr. Finn had put together a possible travel plan and wanted to know if Miss Hecate might care to join him for tea so that they could discuss it?
She and Dal moved apart, both comfortable now with the directions their lives were taking.
“Yes,” she answered Frank’s question. “Miss Hecate would be very willing to take tea with Mr. Finn.”
Very willing indeed.