Rakes And Radishes Part 31

Henrietta wet a cloth in the water pitcher and wiped her father's forehead. "What did I do wrong?" he asked her.

"Nothing, Papa, nothing."

He shook his head, his features contorted in pain. He didn't speak again until a little after nine, when he closed his eyes and whispered, "Imogen." Then he drifted mercifully into sleep.

Alone in the silence, warm tears slid down her cheeks. How cruel the world was! Henrietta wasn't innocent-she had been foolish and careless with the hearts of others. She'd received only what she deserved. But her father? What had he done? He'd cared for his dying wife and chased phantom planets in the heavens, but he hadn't hurt anyone. She watched his face relax with sleep, hoping her mother found him in his dreams.

Sitting on her father's bedside table was the unopened box containing her mother's pendant. Dear Kesseley. She had never loved him so much as when he'd taken her arm that evening. She wished London hadn't happened. That they could meet again at the Great Ouse River in that lovely hour before dusk, when the golden light sparkled on the water. The boughs on the towering oak trees would sway from the breeze blowing in from the sea and across his fields. She wished she could hold him again, all the fear and anger gone, just the strength of his arms around her, keeping her safe.

She picked up the box and lifted the lid. Her mother's tiny ruby sparkled in the candlelight.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Henrietta whispered.

She lifted the necklace and saw that its clasp was broken. As she returned it to the box, she noticed that a letter had rested underneath. She lifted the missive, opened it and held the page to the light.

23rdof April, 1819 Which day appeared personally the Earl of Kesseley and made an Oath that he is of the County of Norfolk aged upwards of Twenty-Five Years and a Bachelor and alleged that he intended to intermarry with Henrietta Watson of same county.

She clamped her palm to her mouth, trying to calm the emotions whirling inside her. He wanted to marry her. Marry her! She had to get back to Curzon Street.

Then the realization sunk in. Of course, he was asking for her hand-out of honor. Why else would he have relented so easily when Mr. Van Heerlen asked him to leave? He escaped, leaving her with evidence of his honorable intentions. Now he could return to Lady Sara with a clean conscience.

His hurtful words came back: I don't love you, Henrietta. Understand. I will never love you again. I don't love you, Henrietta. Understand. I will never love you again.

Henrietta gathered the letter, necklace, box and candle, then tiptoed across the hall to her dark, cramped chamber. She laid the marriage license on the bed and ran her fingers across the words wanting so much to be with Kesseley, to marry him, love him. But she couldn't consent to such an unequal marriage born from honor and duty. He didn't love her, and she couldn't bear any more of his coldness, knowing he would find his comfort with beautiful ladies in places she didn't know about.

She replaced the license to its box, where she would keep it forever. Maybe knowing she could have married him was enough. Yet another letter waited in the very bottom of the box, sealed with a green K.

Were these his marriage terms? She looked warily at the letter, afraid of what she might find inside. She couldn't bear any more heartbreak, any more hurtful words. Taking the letter to the fireplace, she knelt down by the coals and broke the seal.

Dear Henrietta, I have attempted this letter many times this afternoon, but my words can't broach the truth. I can write that I have always loved you, but it will not capture the depth of my pa.s.sions or my fears. I lied every time I said I didn't love you. I pushed you away to keep you safe from what I've become. I told you my old life was a lie. And it is-my gardens, my fields, all the things I made around me, tried to nurture, bring to life-all so that I might bring myself to life from the shambles of my father.

You have been the truest part of me. I cannot relinquish you from my heart, even as I stumble in my weakness and failings. You have always been my hope. You taught me to dream when I was afraid of the world. You've been beside me in the darkest moments of my life and given me comfort. You believed I was capable of goodness when all I knew was darkness and hurt. When I am with you, I am the man I want to be, in my heart, because of your faith in me. Yet, I have failed you.

Let me unburden you of any guilt or obligation you may feel towards me. You are innocent. I threw my sins and the sins of my father at your feet. They are not yours to bear. Please forgive me.

I want to marry you and spend my life with you, but I fear you will not have me. I fear I have pa.s.sed any hope of your redemption and forgiveness, but I love you, dearest Henrietta. I will always love you.

Your faithful servant, Thomas Kesseley slipped inside the house on Curzon Street. All evening he had walked up and down the Strand, listening to the quiet water, wishing he could sink into the current and let it carry him away.

He stood at the doorframe of the parlor where his mama and Lord Damien sat on the sofa, their fingers entwined. They looked up with expectant, smiling faces, waiting for good news.

"I've lost her," he said.

"Oh no," his mother whispered.

Kesseley bit down on his lip, feeling tears well up again. He let out a hiss, blowing his eyes dry.

His mother rose and embraced him. "I'm so sorry." Her body trembled on his shoulder.

She led him to one of the rosewood chairs. He just wanted the solitude of his chamber, but hadn't the energy to resist.

"Danny was telling me about his journey to the Americas." Mama shot Lord Damien a pleading look.

The man made a weak stab at conversation, mumbling of flint, arrows and poison.

Kesseley didn't listen. His insides ached. He couldn't even think about the next moment, let alone the Americas. All he knew was pain. Damien had told him to fight for Henrietta, for himself, but he had lost.

He held up his hand, halting Damien's words. "Pardon," he said, his voice a tired whisper. "I must go."

He rose, wearily, just as a carriage rattled to a stop before the front door.

"That must be Lady Winslow and that Mr. Watson. She said they are coming by after a dinner party. I will tell them to leave," his mother a.s.sured him.

"No, don't, but please excuse my company." Kesseley quitted the room and started up the stairs before he could be seen.

"Kesseley," Henrietta called softly.

He shot around, stumbling on the steps. He grabbed the railing to right himself.

She wore the same plain white gown under her blue pelisse. Around her neck, the ruby pendant glinted. A thread hung down from where she had tied the broken clasp together. She seemed pensive, wringing the letter he'd written in her fingers.

Lady Kesseley stepped in from the parlor, but seeing Henrietta, she turned and hurriedly closed the door without even saying h.e.l.lo.

"Is she angry with me?" Henrietta asked.

For a moment, Kesseley couldn't speak, the words choked in his burning throat. He tried again. "No one is angry with you." He came down the stairs and stood before her. "I'm sorry your father didn't find the planet. I-"

She held her finger to his lips, hushing him. Tears gathered in her eyes and started to run down her cheeks.

"Oh, Henrietta." He wanted to draw her to him and comfort her, but she stepped back.

"I wanted to tell you that you are wrong," she said, her voice brittle and shrill. "You are a gentle and good man. You have such joy in being in the world. You marvel at the smallest thing, the things most people miss. You watch and wait for the world with a patience I will never possess."

He clasped her hands and held them to his chest.

"You ask me to forgive you," she continued. "I will and a thousand times again, but you must forgive me. I didn't mean to waste all those years. When I told you that you weren't the one I was supposed to love, it was because I was lost in my fantasies. I didn't understand that I might turn my telescope to the sky and nothing would be there, that my dreams were empty and immature. Your love taught me what is real and what isn't."

He wanted to feel her against him. This separation, a mere foot, was agony. But she continued, staving him off longer.

"There is a part of you in everything that is mine. Every memory, every moment. You know me beyond how I know myself. And you-you still love me and I don't know why, nor do I feel I deserve it."

"No-"

"My father has come undone. He calls for my mother. Mr. Van Heerlen said if I came to see you tonight that I wasn't the honorable lady he believed me to be. But I had to see you. You always say I only come to you when something is wrong, but it is because..." she swallowed, the tears coming down harder, "...because I love you so much."

He closed his eyes, feeling as if he were tumbling freely as his head descended. Her soft lips caught his, moving like silk across his skin, tasting him, exploring him. She pulled herself closer, as if she could nestle into his heart.

He slid to his knees, trailing kisses down her neck and tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "My dearest, beautiful lady. You tempt me too much. I will take you as my wife in our little village church, then I'll show you a hundred different ways your husband can love you. And I do love you, Henrietta. There has not been a day that I did not love you."

Chapter Twenty-One.

Two weeks later Several hours after the wedding and feast and music and wishes for their happiness, Henrietta waited alone in her chamber in Wrenthorpe. With every small noise, her nerves tingled and her eyes darted to the door leading to Kesseley's chamber. She had changed out of her wedding gown and into a delicate silk chemise edged with lace and embroidered with tiny white flowers.

She picked up a silver-handled brush and smoothed her long, loose curls as she crossed to the tall windows along the back wall. A fat white moon shone through the trees, making long shadows of boxwoods growing in the garden below. This was her home now. It didn't seem real. Perhaps she wasn't really Lady Kesseley, this wasn't her chamber and at any moment a footman would come to tell her that her carriage had arrived to take her back to Rose House.

Her poor dear papa. How sad she felt leaving him alone tonight. He didn't talk about the planet anymore. The library door had remained closed since they returned. At dusk, Henrietta and he took long strolls hand in hand through the fields just as the stars came out.

"Do you think she sees us?" he always asked.

"I know she does," she told him.

That morning she had taken his arm as they walked to her mother's grave. She laid upon the gray stone a wreath of red poppies matching the ones crowning her thin veil. She had rubbed her pendant and said a small prayer to her mother to bless her forthcoming union. Then Lady Kesseley and Lord Damien met them outside the church door. Lady Kesseley, tears in her eyes, fussed over Henrietta's gown. It was a delicate silk miracle that Henrietta, Mrs. Potts and the village girls had tirelessly sewed.

When the church door opened, Kesseley turned from where he stood at the altar. Her heart soared. He was so handsome in a smooth black coat and breeches, the tips of his white collar brushing his hard jaw line. He wore a simple but elegant cravat, just like in London. But those twinkling gray eyes, they belonged to her dear old Kesseley. When he saw her, his lips parted, letting out a silent, wondrous sigh, reminiscent of the shy boy he had been once.

Together they knelt at the altar, their trembling bodies barely touching.

I vow to forsake all others and keep only unto him so long as we both shall live.

She heard a soft tap and she jumped.

"Henrietta, might I have a word with you?" It was Lady Kesseley's light voice.

Henrietta set down her brush and let her in. Her mother-in-law appeared exhausted- having to oversee a banquet and houseguests was an exhausting task-but happy.

She embraced Henrietta. "You were so lovely today."

"Thank you. But I can never outshine Lady Kesseley in love." Henrietta held up the dowager's hand, letting the sapphire ring on her finger sparkle in the candlelight. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Lady Kesseley smiled, fl.u.s.tered, like a young girl. "But you are Lady Kesseley now."

"And you shall be Lady Damien."

A soft light brightened in the future Lady Damien's pale eyes. She looked shyly away, taking in the chamber, letting out a sigh. "I remember my first night here years ago. I thought my life was over. I was frightened and alone. But life is longer than they say and filled with so many unexpected turns and rebirths. Tonight I only feel joy." She squeezed Henrietta's hand. "I thought we might talk-as mother and daughter."

Henrietta squirmed. She felt she was nine again, running to her mother, worried. "Kesseley said a stallion puts his big thing in another horse to make a baby horse, just like a man does to a lady when they want a baby," she had cried. That had led to a very uncomfortable discussion.

Lady Kesseley-Dowager Kesseley-must have sensed Henrietta's hesitancy and laughed. "My dear, your time together as husband and wife should be joyous." She leaned closer. "Love my son and let him love you."

There was a quiet knock on the door leading to Kesseley's chamber. Henrietta felt those hot splotches on her cheeks.

Dowager Kesseley kissed Henrietta's cheek. "Enjoy each other," she said, then hastened out of the chamber with a mysterious smile on her lips.

Henrietta glanced one last time at the mirror. Her eyes were wide and luminous and filled with nervousness. She took a big breath and opened the door. Kesseley stood collarless in a green coat and his old loose doeskins.

Perhaps she'd misunderstood the marital dance. "Kesseley, you're wearing boots."

"I brought some for you." He held out the scuffed shoes she used to tromp about the countryside. "And these." Her blue pelisse, gloves and a bonnet.

She looked askance at his offerings. "You're up to mischief."

"Yes, I have been working very diligently, and I will not have you spoil it by tempting me with that beautiful chemise and your bare feet. Now sit in that chair."

She did as her husband asked. Kesseley knelt before her, took her bare foot into his palm. His lips brushed her ankle while his thumb rubbed soothingly into her arch. She released a humming moan at his touch. Tonight there would be no other voices crowding her mind, reminding her of propriety and other such nonsense. Tonight she didn't have to say no to that urge swelling inside her.

He slipped the ugly old boot on as if it were a golden slipper, then rubbed her other foot, not neglecting it of its fair share of soft caresses with his lips. Coming to her hands, he kissed the diamond ring he had put on her finger, not taking his dark, secretive eyes from her face. Each finger got a slow kiss, but her thumb he took into his wet soft mouth and tenderly sucked it. Henrietta's lips parted with a quiet gasp. That warm, heavy need Kesseley always solicited blossomed inside her.

Suddenly she didn't want to be a part of Kesseley's scheme. She wanted him to take her to the bed waiting not a few feet away. To pull off this chemise and feel his skin, his weight, his muscles against her.

She heard a chuckle rise up from his chest as if he could read her mind.

Yet he wouldn't satisfy her so easily. Instead, he removed her thumb and placed a cold glove over her fingers.

She refused to let him torment her other hand and ripped the dangling glove from him and shoved it on her hand.

He frowned. Displeased.

Then he grabbed her, crushed her against him and pressed his tongue through her lips, deep into her. Henrietta tilted her head back to accommodate his violent plundering of her mouth. Her nipples surged to feel his touch again. She thrust herself against him, but he pulled away.

"Mustn't forget your bonnet," he said airily as he put it over her head and primly tied its ribbons.

Something came out of her mouth that wasn't a complete word, just a frustrated vowel.

And the way his lips slowly nibbled at her neck and earlobes as he slid the pelisse over her arms was plain cruelty. When Henrietta told him as much, he responded that she was his most cherished wife whom he loved beyond all rationality and principle.

Like two naughty children, they crept through the dark corridors on their tiptoes, using the escape route Kesseley had devised in his youth. Except they didn't climb out the library window with a rope and freefall down a story, but sensibly used the servants' back entrance.

Outside, the moon was enormous and shining over the lawn, an accomplice to Kesseley's clandestine mission. He took her hand in his and they snuck behind the labyrinth of boxwoods, then made a quick dart from the garden to the woods, only slowing once they had made it past the outbuildings bordering the lawn. Henrietta clung tightly to Kesseley as he guided her along a path he knew by memory, holding the low branches to let her safely pa.s.s. She wanted him to stop and kiss her in the darkness, but he tromped on until they stepped out of the trees and the Great Ouse expanded before them.

The current gleamed like tiny silver threads on the water. A gentle breeze blew off the water, cool on Henrietta's cheek. Beyond the other bank, the full moon shone above the horizon of fields. So large, Henrietta could see its craters and mountains.

"I love you, Thomas," she whispered, in reverent awe.

"You told me the stillest, most silent place in your heart was by the river."

"With you," she reminded him. "You omitted the most important part." He lifted her chin and gave her that yearning kiss that had destroyed her immature fantasies and upset her old existence. She drew him closer, wanting to smell his dark and sweet scent, marveling at how perfect she felt tucked in his embrace.

For several moments they clung to each other, swaying with the wind, their breaths harmonized. Then he stooped down, ran his arm under her knees and whisked her up. She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her farther down the bank to their favorite oak tree. Beneath its strong boughs, an impressive tent stood, made of heavy woolen blankets and suspended by a complex web of rope. Henrietta laughed at her husband's ingenuity.

He set her down slowly, their bodies rubbing together as she slid down his leg. "Why don't you go inside and remove these unappealing boots and wait while I light a fire?" Henrietta hid her desire to grumble. She didn't want to wait, and she didn't want to be away from him. She drew back the blanket flap to find a sweet little room. Kesseley had layered blankets upon the ground and then strewn them with fragrant flower petals. Her knees sank into the soft wool as she crawled in. Fat golden and burgundy pillows bordered the edges of the tent walls. Lavender-scented sheets had been stacked in the corner. He had made all this for her. She smiled at her dear husband, although he couldn't see.