Beloved Enemy, page 49
Her decision made, Ginny went back upstairs, took a quilt and pillow from the chest that served as linen press, returned to the kitchen, and made up her makeshift bed on the floor before the fire where she lay awake, stiff and throbbing, until dawn lightened the sky and bird song filled the air. Then, finally reconciled, knowing and understanding her own strength, she fell into a light but peaceful sleep.
Chapter Twenty-eight
For the next three mornings, Alex waited in the glade near the Indian village, and he waited in vain, the spiral of anxiety coiling ever tighter. If there had been a disaster, news would have reached Harrington Hundred, and no one there seemed to find a few days without contact with the Courtneys a matter for remark. But even as he told himself this, he knew that something had happened to prevent Ginny from meeting him, and whatever it was, it was not trivial. She was far too resourceful to let minor problems stand in the way of achieving her goal. This was a woman who had evaded the watchful eyes of an entire brigade, for heaven’s sake!
On the afternoon of the third day, Susannah bustled into the parlor where her husband was casting his accounts, his guest examining some proposals to be put before the legislature in Jamestown at its next session. “Robert, I am much concerned.”
“About what, my dear?” He looked up from the desk with its twelve drawers, one for every month of the year.
“Well, there is talk in the kitchen that matters are not going well at Courtneys ... I know you say one should not listen to kitchen talk,” she went on hesitantly, seeing his frown, “but Lizzie came this morning to collect the flitch of bacon that Ginny had put to smoke in our smokehouse, and she said that her mistress had fallen, but cook says Lizzie does not really believe–”
“I do not wish to listen to servants’ gossip, madam, and if you must listen to it yourself, I will not have it repeated,” her husband declared, raising his hand imperatively for silence. “What is between the Courtneys is simply that–between them.”
“Yes, husband,” Susannah said unhappily, “but if Ginny is hurt, should we not–”
“Has she asked for help?” Robert demanded.
“No, but-”
“Is she incapacitated to such a degree that she could not send Lizzie with a message? She was able to send her for the bacon, was she not?”
“Yes, husband.” Susannah sighed.
“Then leave well alone,” her husband commanded in the tone of voice his household recognized as permitting of no argument. His wife turned back to the door, and Alex kept his seat only by a supreme effort. Not for one minute did he doubt the gossip in the kitchen, and he felt a cold anger at his host for adopting that head-in-the-sand attitude. But it was the attitude that everyone would take, except for her women friends like Susannah who would offer the succor and sympathy of sisters in adversity, but nothing else because they had nothing else to offer. And what did he have to offer, Alex thought bitterly. No more than those women, probably less. She had not come to him, after all.
“I’ve a mind to ride, Robert,” he said, getting to his feet with a leisurely stretch. “The rain appears to have stopped, and poring over books is an activity with limited appeal.”
“Aye, I’ll agree with you, there,” his host replied. “But you’ll excuse me if I don’t join you? I’ve a meeting with the bailiff in an hour.”
“Assuredly,” Alex said, relieved although he had expected the response. Outside, he saw Susannah hurrying down to the river, an alpaca cloak drawn around her, a basket over her arm. There was an air of secrecy about her that instantly piqued his curiosity. If she was going to visit Ginny, then his own plans would have to be modified. He followed her, catching up with her at the landing stage. “Do you go on an errand, Mistress Harrington?” he inquired pleasantly. “Pray allow me to paddle the canoe for you. I am sore restless after a morning pent up in the house.”
“Oh–that is most kind, sir.” Susannah looked thoroughly discomfited. “But there is no need, really.”
“Surely you will not deprive me of the pleasure of performing such a small service, madam?” He smiled. “Or of your company.”
“Oh, dear,” Susannah said, quite at a loss.
Alex decided he had best broach the subject directly himself. “Do you perhaps intend visiting Mistress Courtney? I will not reveal your destination, I assure you.”
“Oh, you are too kind, sir.” Susannah flushed. “It is not that I wish to disobey my husband, you understand, but I do feel that I must–”
“I quite understand,” Alex said soothingly, bending to untie the canoe. “We will go together, paying a friendly call on your near neighbor and cousin, on a fair afternoon.” He handed her into the canoe and took his place behind, raising the paddle.
Ginny took the batch of mince tarts out of the round oven built into the wall beside the fireplace, placed them to cool on the table, and went to the kitchen door. The rain had left the sky washed clear, although the air was chill and filled with the desolate patter of raindrops falling onto the carpet of leaves below the trees. There was no sign of Giles; indeed, since that dreadful night he had taken himself out of the house every morning, whether working on the land or not, Ginny did not know, but he did not return until the evening when he would eat in silence and retire to the inglenook with his whiskey.
When he had woken that morning, it was clear that he had no recollection of the night’s doings until he saw Ginny’s face. Then he had blustered, accusing her of provoking him, of asking for and deserving his rage with her insolent taunts, her faithlessness and constant nagging. She had made no response at all, simply set his breakfast before him, and eventually he had fallen into a baffled silence. Then she had told him, very calmly and without employing threats or pleas, that she would not tolerate a repetition. When he had demanded to know how she thought she could prevent him from correcting her in whatever manner he chose, she had walked away, out of the house. Since then, they spoke only when absolutely necessary, and Ginny waited with growing impatience for the time when she would be able to bring this self-imposed isolation to an end. The bruise on her cheek was a dull, faded yellow now, and by tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, she would be fit for company again.
Except that company had decided to take the initiative. The canoe came into sight, its occupants instantly recognizable. Her heart sank, even as she felt a thrill at the sight of that auburn head. What could have brought them here except concern? There was nothing unusual about having no contact with the Harringtons for as long as a week. Susannah would surely not have thought it strange. Alex would have worried when she had not appeared in the glade, but his hands were tied; he could not possibly have prevailed upon Susannah to make this visit without giving something away.
Well, she had better greet them as cheerfully as always. The story she had told Lizzie of slipping down the stairs would explain the fading mark on her cheek, and she would come up with some tale that would explain to Alex her failure to meet him in the glade. Gathering up her skirts, she ran down to the bank.
“What a pleasant surprise, Cousin, and General Marshall. A social call, I trust. There is no bad news?”
“No, indeed not,” Susannah said, climbing agilely onto the bank. “I have brought you some quince jelly. It is quite the best batch I have made.” She scrutinized Ginny in a manner that told her cousin there was definitely an ulterior motive. “Whatever has happened to your face, Cousin?” Susannah asked with an assumption of nonchalance.
“Oh, it was so silly of me.” Ginny waved a hand in airy dismissal. “There is a loose tread on the stair, and I slipped. I tumbled right to the bottom.” She laughed. “Most undignified and very careless. Pray come within, and let me offer you some refreshment. Do you care for mince tarts, General? I have some fresh out of the oven.”
Alex mumbled something vaguely pleasant and followed the two women into the house. He had to be alone with her before he finally exploded with the frustration of his impotence and his ignorance. He had to know the truth, and if Ginny did not stop prattling in this inconsequential fashion, in a minute he was going to find himself saying something that would put them all at risk.
“Giles has been unwell since the party,” Ginny announced, “which is why we have been so reclusive. His hip has kept him within doors, and I have been hard pressed to find ways of amusing him.” She smiled and poured black-currant cordial.
And you are lying through your teeth, Alex thought, risking a hard stare as he took the glass from her. A pink tinge crept into her cheeks, a conscious flash in the gray eyes. He nodded grimly, a gesture that told Ginny that he was not deceived and that she was not going to get away with further fabrications. His opportunity came when Susannah, with a murmured excuse, disappeared outside in the direction of the house of easement.
“Why did you not come?” he demanded directly. “And do not waste time by lying to met.”
“I was not well,” Ginny whispered with difficulty. “Oh, do not act vexed with me, love. I have missed you so and would have come if I could.”
“That whoreson hurt you, didn’t he?” The green-brown eyes were pinpricks of fury, and Ginny knew she could deceive him no longer.
“Alex, it will never happen again. I beg you to believe that. It is over and–”
“How can you say that?” he exclaimed in an undertone. “What he has done once, he can do again.”
Ginny shook her head determinedly. “He will not! I will know what to do if he attempts it another time.”
“This has to stop. We cannot go on like this.” Alex spoke swiftly, hearing Susannah’s step on the path. “Tomorrow morning, in the glade, and if you fail me, I shall come for you.”
“General, I think we should be returning.” Susannah reappeared. “My husband will be looking for me.” She reached for her cloak, then embraced Ginny. “Dine with us tomorrow, Ginny.”
“It will depend upon Giles,” Ginny replied, returning the hug.
“Then come without him,” declared Susannah with a defiant glare.
“You had best not let Robert hear you say such a thing,” Ginny said with an understanding chuckle, and Susannah smiled a little guiltily.
“No, he would not approve, and I do not know I’m sure what the general must be thinking, hearing us talk like this.”
“I am certain the general will keep his reflections to himself, will you not, sir?” Ginny looked at him, and her chin lifted in the old challenging way.
“Where things don’t concern him, mistress,” he replied evenly. “But do not expect him to keep silence when matters touch him nearly.”
Ginny saw them off, biting her lip ruefully. As she had feared, Alex was not going to allow this business to rest. And she knew from experience how hard he was to resist when his mind was set.
Just how difficult he was going to be became apparent the next morning when she reached the glade. He was pacing restlessly, kicking up the damp leaves, a deep scowl disfiguring his expression, and it did not lift when he saw her.
“Good,” he said briefly, “you are come. I was about to fetch you.”
“Do not be absurd,” Ginny said, wondering if he was ever going to kiss her. She lifted her face imperatively. “Am I not to be greeted in appropriate fashion, sir?”
Alex pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a fierce hunger, holding her close against him as if he would make her a part of him and thus safe from the depredations of the world. When he released her mouth, he still held her, looking down at her upturned, smiling face. “You are going to be obstinate, aren’t you, Virginia?” He shook his head in exasperation. “I expected it, of course.”
“I shall only be obstinate if you are,” returned Ginny, standing on tiptoe to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Let us not spoil this precious time in argument.” Her smile deepened, the glow in her eyes shone luminous. “I have a great need to be loved.”
“And I to love you,” he replied, loosening the strings of her cloak. “It is to be hoped this mantle is thick enough to keep the damp from striking through.”
Afterward, he propped himself on an elbow beside her, tracing her lips with one finger. “This is another thing that is going to have to change. Open-air loving is all very well in high summer, but it grows chilly.”
Ginny frowned thoughtfully. “I wonder if I could approach the village chief. There is an empty hut that–”
“No, that will not do.” Alex silenced her with a finger on her lips. “I am not creeping around Indian villages. Now, just listen to me, my obstinate little gypsy.”
Ginny sighed. “I suppose I must listen.”
“Yes, you must,” he said firmly. “I travel to Jamestown at the end of the week with Robert, to attend the session of the legislature.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked, desolate at the thought of his absence.
“Perhaps two weeks, no longer. While I am away, I will arrange passage for us on the next ship for the Indies–”
“No!” Ginny struggled to sit up. “Do not be foolish.”
“I am not being foolish. Will you just do me the courtesy of listening to me?” Alex waited until she had subsided, before continuing. “I have decided what we are to do. Clearly we cannot stay here, and things will not be much better in England. I do not know how I could keep you hidden, and there would be much unpleasantness if our relations were discovered. Therefore–”
“But Alex-”
“Therefore,” he said, placing his palm over her mouth, “we shall sail to the Indies, to Barbados, where we may settle, and no one will know who or what we are. I will buy a plantation and–”
Ginny nipped his palm vigorously until he was forced to ungag her. “I listened to you; now you will listen to me. I will not agree to any such plan. You are an Englishman too strongly rooted in your country to be able to leave it and make another life with any happiness. You must have a wife and children, not an adulterous mistress. Yes, I know it is a painful truth, my love,” she said more moderately, seeing the hurt in his eyes. “But I could not live with the knowledge of what I had deprived you of, and eventually you would blame me for all the things you could have had, that were your right, that you have fought for with such passionate commitment.”
“You think so little of me, of my love for you, that you could believe such a thing?” Alex demanded, getting abruptly to his feet.
“Not of you, or of the love that we share, but I face the truth,” whispered Ginny, rising also. “Do not think any more of this, please. We will manage as best we may, until you must return to England.”
“And if I tell you that I will carry you off, whether you will or no?”
“You would have to kidnap, bind, and gag me,” she said with a light laugh that should not have sounded brittle but did. “Think of the scandal on board ship when you appear–”
“Enough! You have made your point. If you find this a laughing matter, then we clearly do not share the same sense of humor.” He picked up her cloak and shook it vigorously. “Put this on, and get back to your husband. I do not wish you to run any further risks.”
Ginny walked to the edge of the clearing, then stopped and turned. “Must we part like this? I do not suppose we shall be able to meet again until you return from Jamestown.”
“I think it would be better if I did not return,” he said coldly.
She shrugged, swallowing the pain. “You must be the best judge of that.”
“God damn you, Virginia, for being such a pig-headed little–Oh, come here!” He covered the distance between them in a few long strides, catching her up against him. “I am not giving up, gypsy, I give you fair warning.” He kissed her soundly, all the anger disappeared suddenly from his eyes and voice. “You are as unmanageable as ever, but I will find the key, I am determined.”
Ginny was too relieved that they would part friends to argue with this sanguine statement, and simply smiled and hugged him. “God keep you, love, until you return.”
“And you,” he replied, touching the tip of her nose. “I want you to promise me something.”
“What is that?” She looked at him warily.
“That you will go to the Harringtons’ if that–if your husband becomes violent. They will not turn you away, for all Robert’s belief in noninvolvement in the domestic affairs of others.”
“I know that,” she said. “I will promise you, as I did yesterday, that I will not permit it to happen again.”
Alex sighed. “I do not understand what that means.”
“Be satisfied, Alex. It is a promise, and you have never had cause to doubt my word.”
Having no choice but to accept her statement, Alex kissed her again and waited in the clearing until she was long gone and no chance traveler on the bridle path, in the unlikely circumstances of meeting them both on his way, would make any connection.
Ginny looked with distaste at the veal collops that she was frying in the skillet. She had always enjoyed them for breakfast, particularly with eggs, but these had a most peculiar smell. Her nose wrinkled as a wave of nausea washed over her. Dropping the skillet on the table in front of the startled Giles, she fled outside to rid herself of whatever it was could be causing her irritated stomach. When she returned to the kitchen, it was to notice with relief that Giles had helped himself to the contents of the skillet.
“What’s the matter with you?” he inquired. “You’re as full of color as a bowl of whey.”
“I must have eaten something that has disagreed with me,” she replied shortly. “We need more wood. Would you take the cart and bring some back from the cleared pasture? We could ask Teddy from Harringtons’ to split the logs if you do not feel able to do it yourself.” Had the last statement sounded critical? She waited for the accusation of unreasonableness, of carping.
