A KNOWING
Arabella went red, and then felt her heart melt as a look of utter disbelief crossed Richard's face.
“You think you...”
She smiled, feeling suddenly knowing beyond her years. “I can't know yet,” she chuckled softly. “Not for a month at least. But I only thought, what if...”
“Oh!” He frowned, clearly trying to act as if he'd known that all along. “Yes. Of course. Well. But,” he paused, the wonder returning to his expression. “Oh, Arabella! How wonderful.”
She smiled. “I think so, too,” she said firmly. “And I'm so glad I said it.”
She was. Somehow, she had expected reluctance, hesitance to enter that state of responsibility. Maybe even anger at the thought of the added burden. Strange, that I thought that!
At that moment she recalled her own father's indifference, the way he'd brushed them off as children, as though they were buzzing insects. It was no wonder, she realized, that she thought he would consider children a nuisance.
She looked at Richard now, feeling fresh love in her heart for him.
“So am I,” he said.
She laughed. “Well, then,” she said, “as a possible future father, you think we should head on?”
He chuckled. “Indeed, my dearest. Though I also think that, at the first inn we come to, we should hire a horse. I am a complete fool for not having done so earlier, and making you walk.”
Arabella laughed. “Oh, Richard! I'm no more in need of assistance than I was before we thought I might be carrying your child. You are funny,” she added, chuckling at his downcast expression.
He smiled. “I'm silly, you mean.”
“Funny, and a little silly, sometimes, and very lovable,” she nodded. “Now, let's go.”
They hired horses at the next inn, and traveled until dusk. As the day started to seep into night, they reached the edge of the moorland. Arabella felt Richard tense beside her, his knee just jostling hers.
“The sentry post's up there,” he whispered, pointing up. Arabella craned her neck up and nodded, seeing a cool glimmer of flame between the trees.
“We're almost there?”
“Aye,” he nodded grimly. “We're on the outskirts. Probably get a welcome in a moment.”
He spoke sourly and Arabella guessed he was expecting some hostility. She frowned.
“You are English,” she whispered.
He smiled, his eyes gentle. “Strange, how I forget that sometimes,” he admitted. “Here, in the woods, none of that matters. Just you.”
Arabella felt her lips lift in a smile.
“Oh, you,” she murmured. He grinned.
“Well, shall we go?” he asked. “I feel better about it now.”
“As you will.” Arabella tried to sound lighthearted. “Let's go forward.”
They rode into the woods. Sure enough, not two minutes in, someone challenged them.
“Halt! Or I'll shoot.”
The voice called crisply in English and it was all Arabella could do to not react to it, to stay seated and remind herself they were no longer her enemy.
I am here as an Englishwoman now.
She grinned and felt the strange wonder of that thrill through her. She watched Richard clear his throat.
“Private, I suggest you get out of the way. Colonel Bricknall would be rather vexed to hear his First Lieutenant was delayed in the woods when conveying important reconnaissance information back to the camp?”
“I...sir!” the man breathed, horrified. “Sorry, sir! I didn't think you were. With that gear, I thought you were a native.”
Richard nodded. “The merit of going in disguise, Private, is that you tend to blend in with the local population. At least I know it works. Now. How about a safe pass for myself and my wife? It's been a long day's riding and we're wearied.”
“Sir!” the man saluted crisply and Arabella felt his gaze drift to her. He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She would have laughed at the way his eyes hung on her except that she did find it faintly threatening. She glanced at Richard, who looked angry.
“My wife has had a long ride,” he reiterated quietly. “And we would be glad if you'd stand aside and let us pass now, before I consider reporting you for insubordination toward an officer.”
“Yes, sir!”
As the private saluted and practically jumped aside into the ditch to let them pass, Arabella hurried to catch up with Richard. He took off, sending his horse ahead at a brisk trot up along the forest path.
“Richard,” she called, feeling alarmed. “What is the matter?”
“That flag,” he pointed, indicating a small rectangular flag that fluttered on a staff high above the trees. “It means the garrison's ready to move on. They're all here.”
“Oh,” Arabella said, realizing instantly why that concerned him. It meant, she thought, leaning forward across her mount's neck for balance as their speed suddenly increased, that the Major was in.
They reached the town before long and she followed Richard's horse in through the gate. The sentries had let them past, one of them being in Richard's command. They sped down the cobbled street, heading for his lodgings. When they reached it, he stopped, halting his horse overly hasty at the gate to the stable yard
Arabella drew up beside him, wondering why he suddenly seemed so agitated.
“Here we are,” he said quickly. He swung his leg over, dismounting hurriedly, and she, more slowly, did the same. The ground was hard under her swollen feet – swollen with hanging down all day from the saddle – and her legs felt for a moment as if they might not support her. She held onto the saddle.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I have to go to headquarters,” he said. “Make a report.”
Arabella frowned, but nodded. He knew his own business better than she. “As you say,” she nodded.
They looked at each other.
“I'm sorry,” he said, voice tensed with emotion. “You know I'd stay for longer. But I can't. I will leave you here.” He took her hands in his, squeezed them. Looked into her eyes.
Then, after a brief but clearly-intense discussion with someone just out of her sight around the door, he returned and, kissing her passionately and hastily, he left.
“I'll be back for supper,” he called, walking briskly away. “Don't wait for me before you start eating...I'm sure you're as hungry as I am.”
“I won't,” she called, laughing. When he'd gone, her face tensed with feeling. She turned toward the door, feeling a sudden stab of worry.
“I don't even know if this is where he lives.”
Swallowing hard, she stepped up to the door. Knocked. A face appeared. It was a man's face, long and not unappealing, with dark eyes and a skewed nose and a sort of quick, clever appearance.
“Yes, milady?” he asked. He was, she noticed, wearing serviceable twill, not unlike what her father's steward or guardsmen would wear.
“I...I am meant to be staying here, I think.” she said.
The man's eyes widened. “Well, beg your pardon, milady, but why is that? I mean to say, who are you, and who sent you to stay here?” He was polite, but guarded. It seemed he had no idea who she was.
“I'm Mrs. Osborne.”
His mouth opened. It seemed like he'd temporarily lost his wits, for he stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish, black eyes wide.
“I...Oh! Yes. Please, milady! Come inside.” He stood back, waving her in and bowing low as she passed. “I'm Bromley,” he added. “His manservant.” He jerked his head in the direction Richard had gone.
“Oh,” Arabella nodded. “Thank you,” she added, as the man stood aside, hastily showing her into a room that must at one stage have been a parlor, though now it smelled faintly of mold, and was empty. A low bench was still there, as well as a mantelpiece and a washstand.
“Please, milady,” he said. “Take a seat. The roof leaks in the other room, or I'd show you in there. It's a small billet, but we're happy to have you. The bedroom's upstairs,” he added, casting a glance to the stairs Arabella recalled noticing as they'd entered the house.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I'll find some mulled ale,” he murmured, darting to the door. “Heaven alone knows where, but we must have something in this place fit for guests. It's an officer's home.”
Arabella smiled as she heard him mutter to himself, trailing off slowly down the hallway as he went. She looked around, staring into the fire.
His home, she thought, standing again and looking out of the one long window into the street. This was where Richard lived, where she would live. It was strange.
As she looked out into the street, a cannon rolled past, drawn by horses, six men accompanying it. Another detachment walked past, laughing, heading somewhere for a meal. She saw a senior officer in a fine cloak walk past, boots crunching on the gravel, two men saluting crisply as he walked by them.
The fact that this was a town under occupation by armed forces was quite plain. It made it hard not to recollect that, a week ago, these people were her enemies. Her father would have sworn to rid the country of them – Godless Hanoverians, he would have called them.
She leaned against the wall, sighing as she heard the soldiers crunch past over the stony road surface. It was impossible to reconcile the two things – her life at home, and her life now. All separated only by a week! It was unthinkable.
She sat down on the bench, feeling her head swirl with thoughts, so overwhelming and confusing that they made her feel ill. Her mind fed her pictures of Duncliffe – her brother, in his doublet and hose, outlined by the torchlight, his handsome face smiling hesitantly at her. Her sister, Francine, those wise eyes holding hers and then that impish smile lighting her from within.
I might never see them again.
The thought made her heart ache. She buried her face in her hands. Out in the woods, when they lived as vagabonds, it didn't seem quite real – then, it had seemed as if she was just in a dream, as if Duncliffe fortress was the reality, and she could wake there any time.
Now, she had to admit, this small, solid town, with its solid gray cobbles and its bleak, half-empty houses, was just as real. It was now her reality.
I love Richard, more than I have ever imagined loving anyone.
She looked round the room, her empty heart knowing that one truth absolutely. She did love Richard. More than she would ever have believed was possible. However, loving him meant she was forever in a world divided from the other half of her life.
How will I bear it?
She sobbed, then, having cried a while, she sniffed firmly.
“I won't bear it,” she said to herself, stretching her feet toward the fire. “I'll solve it.”
There must be a way she could resolve the two worlds that held two separate halves of her heart. Why would she have been given this fate, if it was not resolvable? Surely this burden was actually a gift, and she would, in time, discover what it was.
“In the mean time,” she said to herself firmly, “let's see what Bromley has prepared for supper.”
She stood and walked briskly from the room.
When she entered the kitchen, she had to hold back from laughing. Bromley was at the hearth place, stirring a pot over the fire. When he saw her, he turned and the look of utter horror on his face was difficult not to laugh at.
“Bromley!” she chuckled. “I am sorry! I didn't mean to startle you so.”
“Mistress!” he said, putting a hand on his chest in shock. “Why, you scared the daylights out of me. I forgot the ale! And I didn't expect you to come in here. The lieutenant'll have me shot for this.”
She chuckled. “I'm sure he wouldn't Bromley,” she said. “I didn't come in to find the ale. I just wanted to ask what was for supper. And if I could help.”
“Help?” he gaped at her. “It's soup, followed by fish, and then a sponge cake...or at least I'm trying,” he said. “And if I let him know you were even in here, the lieutenant will box my ears. No...Please milady...I'll manage the supper.”
Arabella nodded, though she felt a small stab of regret. “Why,” she said to herself when she reached the parlor again, “will no one let me cook?”
She spent the time while Bromley cooked the dinner and Richard met with his commander, in dusting the parlor. The mantel had a thin layer of sand on it, blown in through the window, she thought wryly, for the sill had the same fine powdering of dirt, and, when she examined it more closely, the top of the washstand did too.
She heard boots in the hallway and turned as Richard strode in.
“Arabella,” he murmured, gripping her in a stifling embrace. She felt her body melt into his arms and they kissed.
Supper was in the larger room beside the kitchen, this one at least was painted at the top of the walls, showing some of the house's former beauty. Arabella glanced at Richard. He had changed into a uniform at some point during the day, and she couldn't help noticing how handsome he looked. She swallowed.
“So,” he told her as he ate the soup carefully with a silver spoon, “we seem to have good news. There were no...engagements with enemy troops...while I was away.”
“Oh?” Arabella felt her heart lose a tension she hadn't known it held. She lifted the spoon of soup to her lips, marveling at how wonderful it was to be seated at a table, set with cutlery, and eating off fine china crockery again. She leaned back in her chair and digested the news, letting the tension drain from her.
No engagements with enemy forces. That meant no one had tried to besiege Duncliffe. If there was intent to make retribution against her father's wrongs, it hadn't happened yet. Her family was safe.
“Thank you,” she said raggedly, meaning the words more to more generally express thanks than just to Richard, for bringing the news. “I am glad.”
“As am I.”
They ate in silence for a while longer.
“Any...other news?” she asked softly.
He nodded. His eyes met hers. This time, he couldn't quite conceal the relief he felt.
“Yes. Major Rowell's gone to Edinburgh. He'll be gone three days.”
“Whew.” Arabella felt the last of the tension leave her. She smiled at Richard, feeling finally at peace. She hadn't known how much she feared that man. Knowing that she wouldn't have to see him again – not for the next few days, at least – meant the world to her.
Opposite her, she sensed similar relief in Richard. He nodded. His eyes were bright.
“Well,” he said, dabbing at his lips with a napkin, “do you want to see the surprise?”
“Surprise?” she asked, feeling her heart tingle with excitement.
He grinned. “Well, I hope so. At least, I hope it's surprising in a good sense – as I hope the same of Bromley's cooking.”
“Sir?” Bromley appeared in the doorway just then, a startled expression on his face, a tray in his hands.
“I said, I trust your cooking will be a surprise – not the same way an ambush is a surprise, but something better.”
“I hope so, sir,” Bromley nodded. “This fish, it's a surprise, sir. Surprised me the jolly thing was edible when the marketer sold it to me. But, all prepared, it looks quite good to me. Tell me what you think!”
“I will reserve my judgment until the morrow, Bromley,” Richard nodded. “If I live to see another day, I may live to agree with you.”
Arabella had to laugh. The talk that went between Richard and his man was too funny to resist. They were clearly good friends, despite the difference in their rank. As she watched as Bromley laid fresh plates and took the dishes from the soup away with him, she found it odd to think she'd lived differently than this.
“So?” Richard asked, lifting up the fork by his plate, examining the dish warily. “What do you say?”
Arabella lifted her own cutlery and, not wanting to seem not brave, took a hesitant mouthful. Fresh, crumbly and delicious, the fish was baked to perfection. She smiled, letting the warm juices flow down her throat, flavored with fennel and butter.
“This is delicious,” she agreed.
“Well,” Richard said. “That is a surprise.”
They went upstairs after supper. The surprise turned out to be a wrapped parcel, lying on the bed. Arabella frowned at Richard, curious.
“Go ahead,” he said, a strange secretive smile twisting his lip. “Open it.”
“Richard...” she said, bending down toward it. Wrapped in linen, whatever it was seemed like something one could only acquire from a very expensive shop. She reached for it and began to untie the twine that held the linen closed. She stared at it.
“Oh...Richard!” she was speechless.
There on the bed lay two dresses. Day dresses, one was a rich emerald, made of finely woven linen, fine and good quality. The other was a blue dress, woven of soft wool. They were both so beautiful they took her breath away. The sort of thing a modest merchant's wife might wear, but with an added fineness that spoke of being the best that money could buy.
“I wanted to find something beautiful for you,” he said softly. “You are so beautiful, my dearest.”
Arabella felt her heart melt. Wordlessly, she reached for him. “Richard,” she whispered. “You shouldn't have! You spoil me so...” she trailed off as he kissed her gently.
“I don't,” he murmured. “You spoil me, too. I'm spoiled just by having you here. I am.”
He kissed her and she felt her body dissolve with longing under his touch.
They slept together in a bed for the first time that night.