The Lovers (Echoes From The Past) Read online

  As the mourners began to disperse, James left the graveyard and walked to Blackfriars. Molly could hardly tell any of her friends and neighbors that she’d just buried her infant son in someone else’s coffin, so the wake for Harry was just for the family. Molly had prepared a mutton stew and baked rhubarb pie for dessert, which was a real treat. The sweet stuck in James’s throat, but he did it justice anyway so as not to offend Molly. She’d likely been up all night preparing and cleaning the house. She was the type of woman who threw herself into domestic tasks to distract her mind from her suffering. Molly had always been practical and accepting of life’s tragedies, but this was her little boy, and the second child she’d lost in as many years. James knew her well enough to note the rigid set of her shoulders and the barely contained storm of emotion that raged behind her dark-blue eyes.

  “Molly, will you be all right?” James asked once Peter and the girls stepped out of the room. Peter suggested a walk by the river to give his wife a bit of privacy and quiet, should she wish to rest, but Molly threw herself into clearing up, as James knew she would.

  “Of course, I will,” Molly retorted forcefully. “The question is whether ye will be.”

  “I’ll grieve for Harry, of course, but I’ll manage,” James replied, confused by his sister’s vehement response.

  “’Tis not ’Arry’s passing I’m referring to.”

  “Then what?”

  “Ye care for her. I can tell. I saw ye watching her during the burial. She didn’t spare ye a glance, but ye were gazing at her the whole time, desperate for even a tiny spec of acknowledgement. Like a dog,” Molly spat out.

  “Don’t be a fool, Molly,” James retorted. Molly was feeling emotional, and he wouldn’t do anything to upset her further, but she was talking nonsense and taking out her grief on him.

  “It’s ye who’s the fool, brother,” Molly countered, her eyes blazing with anger. She slammed a washed pewter jug onto the table as if it’d offended her somehow and began to dry the rest of the crockery, her movements jerky and unnaturally forceful.

  “Molly, what’s gotten into you? Elise just did something kind and selfless for a woman she’d never met and a child she’d never heard of. Why can’t you show a little charity of spirit toward her?”

  Molly shook her head as she glared at James, hands splayed on the table for support. “Ye just don’t see it, do ye? It’s not her I’m angry with. What she’s done for ’Arry is nothing short of miraculous, and I will be grateful to her for as long as I live, but I’ve just lost someone I love, and I don’t want to lose anyone else. She wouldn’t have done what she’s done unless she cared for ye. Why would she risk her husband’s wrath otherwise? And now I know that ye care for her as well. Do ye not see where this might lead, James?”

  “Molly, you know our father. He’s no fool. He’ll send me away as soon as Elise gets with child. I would have served my purpose, and he’ll want me out of the way until my services are required once again.”

  “Well, I hope he does. Ye are right, James, he’s no fool, nor is he a man who values the lives of others. Lord Asher is a ruthless, ambitious man, and he will not allow anyone to stand in the way of his plans. Go away, James. Find a life for yerself away from Asher Hall. I implore ye. I’ve no wish to see ye hurt.”

  James got to his feet and took his sister in his arms. Molly stiffened at first but then gave in to her need for comfort. She rested her head on James’s shoulder as he held her close. “Molly, you are the only person in this world who loves me, and I value your loyalty and devotion above all, but I must do as I see fit.”

  “Ye should have never agreed to this scheme,” Molly persisted. The fury had gone out of her, and now her voice sounded thin and frightened.

  “You are right, I shouldn’t have. But I did, and now I must deal with the consequences.”

  Molly pulled away from James and looked up at him, her eyes clouded with worry. “I know ye, James. Ye’re too mule-headed to heed my advice, but mark my words: this won’t end well for ye.”

  “Molly, I’ve made a deal with our father. Once Elise is delivered of a son, he will give me an agreed-upon sum of money and release me from his service. I have some education and skill with a sword. There’s a place in this world for men like me. I will take my payment and go. At least I won’t be walking away empty-handed after all these years of service.”

  “No, ye won’t be, but ye’ll be leaving behind a son and his mother,” Molly persisted, refusing to let the subject drop. James reached for his cloak and hat. He’d heard enough, and he needed to leave before he lashed out at his sister and told her to mind her own affairs and leave him to deal with his. Molly meant well, he knew that, but she’d hit a nerve, which was exactly what she’d been hoping to do. She always knew just how to rile him up.

  “They will not be my responsibility,” James barked. He yanked open the door and strode out, slamming the door behind him for emphasis.

  Molly shook her head in dismay, amazed by her brother’s pigheadedness. “You just keep telling yourself that, Brother,” she called after James, but he didn’t hear her.

  Chapter 24

  Elise woke with a start, suddenly aware that someone was in the room. She’d taken to going upstairs after the midday meal to rest for a while. She wasn’t sure why she was so tired these days, but the household ran smoothly, so there wasn’t much for her to do during the afternoons anyway. She felt refreshed after an hour’s nap and usually went downstairs to read or work on some mending, which never seemed to end. Edward always managed to snag his hose or tear a bit of lace on his collars. Elise diligently applied herself to fixing every garment, used to the economies of her upbringing.

  Elise rubbed her eyes and sat up. She’d drawn the bed hangings to keep the bright light out and now pulled them aside to find her husband in her bedchamber. Elise sucked in her breath when she realized who was with him. Dr. Fisk treated Lady Matilda while she was ill, so Elise knew him well. He was considered to be one of the best physicians in London and was frequently consulted by members of the court for various complaints. Dr. Fisk had even attended on the king himself, but although he coveted the title of Court Physician, he had yet to achieve it. Edward said that His Majesty desired a younger doctor, one who was well versed in all the new advances in medicine and who didn’t look as dour as Bernard Fisk tended to, even when smiling.

  Dr. Fisk was a slight man with rheumy eyes and stooped posture, his physical shortcomings exacerbated by the unnatural blackness of his periwig and his elaborate attire, which nearly swallowed him up. Elise supposed that he was only in his fifties, but he appeared to be much older, perhaps because despite the rose water that he used in great quantities, he always smelled of illness and death.

  “Is something wrong?” Elise asked, making an effort to sound calm. Her heart began to hammer in her chest as she stared from one man to the other. Edward had been preoccupied with his mother’s illness, but now that she was gone, there was nothing to stop him from turning his attention to the business at hand.

  “Dr. Fisk is here to examine you, Elise. Perhaps he can determine the cause of your infertility,” Edward replied gruffly.

  “My dear Lord Asher,” Dr. Fisk began, “inability to conceive within the first few months of marriage hardly qualifies as infertility. Your wife is a healthy young woman. With regular visits from her devoted husband, she should become pregnant in no time at all.”

  Elise stole a peek at Edward. Dr. Fisk clearly didn’t know of Edward’s inability to perform his husbandly duties and assumed that Edward was applying himself diligently to begetting an heir. What would he say if he knew that the mighty Lord Asher was using his baseborn son to impregnate his wife? Elise wondered bitterly.

  “You are right, of course, Dr. Fisk, but I would like to be sure that there’s nothing physically wrong with my bride. She has been tired and wan lately. I only wish to make sure that she is hale and hearty and able to bear children. Please, proceed with the examin
ation. Lie back, Elise.”

  Elise did as she was told. It was no use protesting since Edward would probably hold her down and force her to submit to the dreaded examination. She squeezed her eyes shut as the doctor began to touch her. He started with her throat and made his way down, squeezing her breasts, palpating her stomach, and then pushing her legs apart and forcing his cold fingers deep inside her until she gasped with pain. He seemed to be touching her very womb, and the sensation was most unsettling. The doctor finished his examination and patted Elise on the thigh before turning to her husband.

  “Is something wrong?” Edward asked, his voice anxious.

  “On the contrary, my lord. Your lady is with child. About a month gone, I’d say. I offer my most heartfelt congratulations to you both,” Dr. Fisk said, his smile more of a grimace. It reminded Elise of a gargoyle, grinning from its perch atop some church for eternity, completely indifferent to the suffering of the people who passed beneath it.

  Elise felt as if she were going to be ill. She’d been tired and out of sorts, but it never occurred to her that she might be with child. She wasn’t familiar with the symptoms of pregnancy, so she attributed the fatigue to low spirits and lack of purpose. Elise closed her eyes, desperate to be alone. She couldn’t allow her husband to see how devastated she was by the news, so she turned her face away as tears slid down her cheeks and into the down of the pillow. The two men paid her no heed and continued to talk about her as if she weren’t even there, discussing her health like a mare’s.

  “She’s got narrow hips,” Dr. Fisk was saying with some concern. “It might prove to be a difficult delivery.”

  “She’s shaped just like her mother, and she delivered six children in quick succession,” Edward replied. He sounded gleeful and proud, just as an expectant father would.

  “Did you know Mistress de Lesseps?” Dr. Fisk inquired as he washed his hands and dried them on Elise’s towel. Neither man spared Elise another glance as they continued to converse, likely forgetting about her presence in the great bed altogether.

  “Oh, yes,” Edward answered bitterly. “I knew her before she married that buffoon, de Lesseps. Threw herself away on a man of no consequence. She was quite a beauty in her day and could have made an advantageous match had she allowed herself to be guided by the advice of her father, but the old man doted on her and gave in to her whim. Elise resembles her greatly, actually, but only in looks, not temperament,” Edward remarked, leaving Dr. Fisk in doubt that Edward would not tolerate any rebellion from his bride.

  “Sounds to me like you got the better end of the bargain, my lord,” Dr. Griffin replied. “There’s nothing like a young, beautiful bride to make a man feel virile again.”

  The two men turned to leave, and Elise heard Edward’s voice just before the door closed: “Saving the child is a priority, Dr. Fisk. I can always get another wife.”

  Elise buried her face in the pillow as the tears began to flow in earnest. She was with child—Edward’s child—James’s child. It would be some time before her belly began to grow, and she knew that some women might take advantage of that and proceed with their plans, but how could she deceive Gavin? He was already willing to take on more than most men. He was prepared to take on another man’s wife and have his children be born out of wedlock, but to accept another man’s child was asking too much. Had Elise already had a child, as many widows did when remarrying, the situation would be different, but coming to Gavin newly pregnant with James’s child would be a gross abuse of Gavin’s love and trust.

  Elise pressed her hands over her ears to block out the cheerful singing of the birds. She wished she could just die and put an end to this miserable existence. Maybe she’d die in childbirth, as Dr. Fisk feared, but then she would be leaving her child behind, and she couldn’t do that. She’d been aware of her pregnancy for no more than ten minutes, but already the seed of motherlove had been planted. It was her baby. And James’s.

  James was just coming out of the stables when he saw his father striding purposefully toward him. Edward looked pleased, which was surprising so soon after the death of Lady Matilda. Edward had never shown his mother much affection in public, but James had been at Asher Hall long enough to know that Lady Matilda had been the driving force behind everything Edward did. She had been manipulative and harsh, but most of all, she had been cunning. Edward likely didn’t even realize how his mother played him, and James was sure that she was manipulating him still from beyond the grave.

  Edward stopped in front of James and looked around, as if checking if anyone was within earshot. “You are to leave today,” he said without any preamble.

  “Where am I going?” James asked. He’d been taken completely by surprise. His father had said nothing about sending him anywhere.

  “Suffolk. My estate has been neglected for far too long, and that fool of an estate manager can use a swift kick in the rear; he’s gotten too comfortable. I wish you to take up residence. You are to oversee the spring planting and examine every tenant’s farm. Let me know if they can afford to pay higher rents. My coffers need replenishing.”

  “Has something happened?” James asked carefully. His father was not normally an impulsive man. He thought things through and formulated a plan. This mission seemed utterly contrived since there was a competent man in charge of the Suffolk estate. Master Grove would not welcome James’s interference, or even his presence, since he was hardly more than a servant. But it seemed that Lord Asher wanted him out of the way—and quickly.

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Be off with you,” Edward barked. He turned on his heel and strode back toward the house. James had no choice but to obey. He followed his father into the house to collect his belongings. If he left within the hour, he’d get to Asherton House before nightfall tomorrow, with a stopover for the night along the way. James was just walking up the stairs when he saw Lucy emerging from Lady Asher’s room. She was flushed and nervous.

  “All right, Lucy?” he asked, pausing on the landing. He liked Lucy, more so because she had such a transparent face and couldn’t keep a secret if her very life depended on it. If James had learned anything from his father, it was that information always had value, and servants’ gossip was not to be ignored since they always had their finger on the pulse of the household.

  Lucy nodded, but refused to say anything and rushed off, leaving James standing outside Elise’s door. He knocked softly and let himself in. Elise was lying in bed, her pale face nearly translucent in the harsh light of the spring afternoon. Her eyes looked puffy, and she stared listlessly toward the window, as if she were still alone.

  “Elise, are you ill?” James asked as he approached the bed, belatedly realizing that he called her by her Christian name, which was inappropriate under the circumstances. He had no business being in her bedchamber, but since the death of Harry, he felt a bond with Elise and couldn’t just ignore her despair. She hadn’t ignored his.

  Elise shook her head but failed to meet his gaze. She looked so forlorn that James thought someone might have died. He knew she had two younger sisters whom she loved dearly. Perhaps one of the girls or her father had taken ill.

  “Did something happen?” he asked again, hoping she’d talk to him.

  Elise finally turned to face him. “You mean he hasn’t told you? He hasn’t patted you on the head and thanked you for a job well done?” she demanded, her cheeks blooming with anger.

  “Are you . . .” James stopped. Why was she so angry? Getting with child was the ultimate objective for any young bride. It was a wife’s duty to produce an heir, and if she were indeed with child, she’d no longer have to endure his unwelcome visits. Elise nodded miserably and turned away again, her attention fixated on a gnarled branch just outside her window that was moving in the breeze like a waving hand.

  “Congratulations,” James said. “I hope you will resign yourself to the idea of motherhood and that all will go well for you and the babe.”

  Elise
turned back toward him, her eyes narrowed. “Are you going somewhere?” she asked, studying him intently. She no longer looked angry, just defeated.

  “Lord Asher is sending me to oversee his estate in Suffolk. I don’t know how long I’m meant to stay.”

  Their eyes met for a long moment. Neither one said anything, but they both understood. There was no need for James to go to Suffolk. He’d done his bit, and now Edward wanted him out of the way where he could do no harm. Elise and James were both young, attractive, and had already crossed the forbidden line with his blessing. What was to stop them from continuing to fornicate, especially when Edward could not lie with his wife himself? He feared that Elise might have developed a fondness for the act and would invite James into her bed just for pleasure.

  “Go with God, James,” Elise said.

  “Be well.”

  Chapter 25

  November 2013

  Surrey, England

  Quinn collected her bags and locked the car before heading for her front door. Seeing Jill had been a real treat. They went to the pub after Jill locked up the shop and stayed longer than either of them expected, enjoying a few glasses of wine and chatting about everything from family to their less-than-satisfying love lives. It’d been a long while since Quinn spent time with a good friend. There was always a sense of camaraderie on a dig, but being around like-minded people didn’t change the fact that they were more colleagues than friends who often dropped off the radar once they returned home. Quinn never lacked for company, but she rarely got too personal with anyone, especially about her love life. She’d spent several nights crying into her pillow after Luke broke things off with her but came to work in the morning exuding a false sense of cheer. She didn’t care to be the object of pity or gossip, which was always rampant on a dig. Aside from Gabe, Jill was the first person Quinn had confided in, and she felt a cathartic sense of release. Jill had a way of putting things in perspective and following it up with much-needed retail therapy.