Thornbrook Park (25 page)

When the bell rang again, she almost changed her mind. And then, Marcus started to get some hits in and duck and weave and practically dance around the ring, away from Harris, and she was transfixed. She focused on his movements, on his body.

“He's magnificent,” she said, with awe, unaware she'd even said it out loud.

“Yes, he is.” Tom laughed. “He's doing a remarkable job.”

“He is, isn't he?” The bell rang again and she watched him with Brandon, how well they interacted, how they even seemed to share the same gestures. They were so completely together in the fight. Brandon wasn't throwing punches, but he seemed as invested in the outcome as the fighter himself.

The bell rang again, and the fighting commenced. Marcus had a look of deadly focus in his eyes, and suddenly Eve thought Smithy Harris should be the one to be afraid. Not a few seconds later, Marcus landed an incredible smash to Harris's jaw and the giant fell to the mat. The countdown began.

“Knockout! Thorne wins the match!”

Eve and Tom jumped to their feet. They hugged. They cheered.

“That was nothing short of amazing,” Eve said, in a mix of pride and wonder as she struggled to catch her breath.

“We can go and see him as soon as the crowd dies down,” Tom said. “They all swarm at the end, eager to collect their winnings.”

They sat back down and watched for another minute, remaining out of the fray. Eve watched Brandon run to Marcus, and Marcus hug the boy and muss his hair.
He's a natural father
, she thought. And Tom's words stayed with her.
He
loves
him
like
one
of
his
own
. And that's when she knew that they could never be together. There was no hope for them. None at all.

Despite what he'd said about accepting her inability to bear children without hesitation, he really did want children of his own, she suspected. What if he began to resent her as the years went by and they remained childless? She couldn't do that to him. Would the Coopers be enough for him, or would he watch them grow and begin to wish that Eve had been able to give him a child of their own?

“I'm sorry, Tom,” she said. “I shouldn't have come. You're right. This has been a terrible mistake. Please, take me home.”

“But it's over now. We can go congratulate him.”

“I know. It's not that. I need to leave. Please, don't tell him that I've been here. I don't want him to know that I was in London. I can't explain, but I need to go.”

Eve had kept to herself as much as she could since returning to Thornbrook Park. Sophia had asked her what had happened in London, and she hadn't wanted to discuss it. What was there to say? She'd discovered how much she loved Marcus and then realized it was precisely why she couldn't be with him. It made her unspeakably sad to be leaving Thornbrook Park, but it was for the best.

“Lizzy and I are going over to the Dower House. Aunt Agatha is holding a séance.” Sophia found Eve staring out the drawing-room windows, deep in thought.

“Are you certain a séance is a good idea after what happened last time?” Eve recalled that a séance had scared away Sophia's previous lady's maid, Mrs. Bowles.

“Lizzy wants to see if she can contact her dearly departed grandmother. I remember Lizzy's grandmother as a fairly gentle woman, so I'm hoping she's a very tame spirit. Join us?”

“No, thank you. I'm more interested in the living these days.” Eve smiled. “I think I'm going to have a walk around the grounds. I haven't yet been to the legendary orchards or had a glimpse of the farm. I will be back in time for tea.”

“I would like that, too,” Sophia said. “Until later, then.”

Eve dressed warmly in her dark coat paired with a purple scarf, gloves, her black wool dress, stockings, and walking boots. She started off along the path that crossed the gardens. She inhaled deeply of the fresh woodsy scent and the crisp fall day.

Her mind was on Marcus as she walked along, trying to see the grounds as he might have seen them, growing up on such a grand estate. Had he raced his brother across this very green? Stumbled and skinned his knees on those very rocks? Climbed the big oak tree at the edge of the meadow? Through the years, he might have struggled to get away from it all, but it remained a part of him.

She loved Marcus, she knew beyond any doubt. His laugh. His sensitivity. She loved how he ached for the people he'd had to hurt in South Africa. She loved that he didn't stop being who he was simply because his brother disapproved of him. She loved the way he said “please,” when another man might have just taken what he needed without asking.

Because she loved him, she didn't think about staying more than the next few days. It seemed more important than ever that he should have everything he wanted in the world, even if it couldn't be with her.

She spied the orchards ahead, neat rows of apple trees stretching back for acres. And then beyond, there were empty fields, probably too much for Mrs. Dennehy to keep up with planting on her own.

As she approached, she saw some sheep out on the green munching grass. There was a faded red barn, a dirt road leading to a wire-fenced pen currently full of scratching chickens, and an old brown house with a porch that looked as though it had been recently repaired, the new wood yet unpainted and brighter than the old. Tilly Meadow Farm, she supposed. Perhaps she would have a look around and say hello.

She found Mrs. Dennehy in the barn milking cows.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” she said, standing in the doorway. “My name is Eve Kendal. I've come from Thornbrook Park, and I was hoping to have a word with you.”

“Just give me a minute to finish. I assume you know I'm Mrs. Dennehy, since you've come to see me, and I'm glad to meet you, I'm sure. Forgive me for not offering you my hand.” The woman laughed at her own comment until she snorted.

“I can wait,” Eve said. “If there's anything I could do to help?”

“You ever milked a cow?”

“No.”

“You wearing fine clothes?”

Eve shrugged. “Not my finest.”

“Fine enough, I would guess. Then you're fairly worthless on a farm, although I mean no offense in saying so.”

“None taken.” Mrs. Dennehy was a bit abrupt, but Eve liked her. She felt it was promising that the woman seemed overworked and in need of help. “You seem a bit shorthanded.”

“I have some boys who come around and help now and then, and another I just took on more permanently. The one has gone for a few days, but he'll be back. Another one of 'em's sick, and the other stole some of my equipment. Little devil. I told him I'd shoot him if he ever came back.”

“I'm sorry,” Eve said. “How dreadful.”

“At least he left the sheep. If he'd taken one of my favorite ewes, I would have had to track him down and kill him. They're dear to me, the old girls.”

“I saw them in the pasture as we approached.”

“Only five of them left. They don't give me quality milk anymore. Used to make some fine Wensleydale with them. Those were the days.”

“I've had your cheddar,” Eve said, edging closer, careful not to step in anything that might ruin her shoes. “It's delicious.”

“Award-winning.” Eve couldn't see Mrs. Dennehy's head, as she leaned over a bucket between the cows, but she thought perhaps Mrs. Dennehy was nodding from the way her back moved up and down. Or perhaps that was just the milking motion. “I don't make as much as I used to, but I still get on all right. Are you a fine lady out to steal my recipes for your own tenant farmers?”

“Of course not,” Eve said. It was only after a second that she realized Mrs. Dennehy had said it with a laugh. “I'm a friend of Lady Averford's, visiting.”

“There, there now, Miss Betty.” Mrs. Dennehy stroked the side of the cow and stood up. “You can rest. I'm all done with you.”

She came out from between the cows holding what looked like a very heavy bucket of milk. An identical one stood near Eve by the door. Eve picked it up. “Now, where are we taking these?”

“Follow me,” Mrs. Dennehy said. Eve trailed behind her right into the kitchen of the house. They set the buckets down beside the stove. “They'll be fine here for a bit. Let me wash and then we can talk. I like you. You didn't give me a chance to say no. You just picked that bucket up and followed me in. Reminds me of someone else from Thornbrook Park.”

“Who would that be?” Eve asked.

“Thorne,” Mrs. Dennehy said. “Captain Marcus Thorne. Go on out and have a seat in my parlor, if you please.” She gestured to the door across the room. “I'll be right with you.”

“Very well,” Eve said, and she found her way out to the other room. It was a large room, open, clean, with furniture that had possibly seen better days, but nothing some slipcovers couldn't dress up a bit. She wondered if Marcus's Mrs. Cooper was any good with a needle and thread. There was a large, round handwoven rug over polished wooden floors. The wood posts that were either decorative or instrumental in holding up the house were marked here and there with pocks and dents. Eve took a seat on the plaid sofa, across from a flowered chair near the hearth. She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

“Here we are, then.” Mrs. Dennehy came out carrying a tray with tea, toast, and what looked like a pot of soft cheese, and a plate with some chunks of a harder cheese. Eve stood. Mrs. Dennehy placed the tray on a low wooden table in front of the couch and took a seat in the flowered chair, which she pulled closer. “Please, sit.”

“It's a big house for a woman on her own,” Eve said, taking up a cup of just-poured tea and looking around. “A lot of upkeep. And that's just the house. You must be exhausted at the end of every day.”

Mrs. Dennehy had tucked up the few stray gray hairs around her face and had removed her apron. She was a good-looking woman, hale and strong, with clear skin dotted by a few freckles. Considering her age, her face was surprisingly unlined, but one could tell she had lived through some hardship by the tightness around her eyes. When she offered the cheese, her fingers curled awkwardly on the knife.

“A touch of arthritis?” Eve asked. “My grandfather's hands used to do the same. He was an American, in textiles. He moved here with my mother when she was just a girl.”

Mrs. Dennehy nodded. “Getting old. It's not so bad. My fingers are just a little tired from milking the cows. You're close to Captain Thorne, then?”

Eve straightened in her chair. “I'm a friend of all the family.”

“It's just that your face lit up a certain way when I mentioned him out in the yard.”

Eve blushed. “My, you're observant.”

“Young Marcus was always my favorite of the boys, I have to say. I shouldn't have favorites and I would never tell him so, you understand.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Good. I hope so. When he was about eight or nine, he used to hide out in my loft with a stack of books and a bushel of my apples. Said his brother was going to beat him if he was caught reading around the house, that Gabriel thought he was trying to show him up in front of their father.”

“It sounds like Gabriel, a bit. I'm not sure he would have hit him actually or if he was all talk.”

“They got into it now and then, as boys do, but you're right that Gabriel has always been more bluster than action when it comes to his brother. But I would let Marcus stay up there with his books. He never bothered anyone. Sometimes, he would even come down and help my daughters with their chores. I have two girls, one about five years older than Marcus and the other just a few months older. They grew up and moved away, as children do.”

As she had. Eve wondered if her mother ever got that sad, wistful look in her eyes when she thought of her, like Mrs. Dennehy did for her girls.

“My youngest girl, Junie, she had an attraction to Marcus. Her father heard her up in the loft with him one day trying to convince Marcus to kiss her. Robert nearly grabbed a pitchfork and climbed up there after them, until he heard Marcus saying no, that he wouldn't kiss June. He let her down gently, said he would love to kiss her but he didn't feel they were ready to take such a step. He would have to court her properly and face her father with his intentions, because that's how a gentleman did things, he said. Isn't that the sweetest thing?”

“Very sweet,” Eve agreed. She took a bite of cheese and felt her stomach lurch. She tried to hide it. It certainly wasn't the cheese. The cheese was delicious, but—there it was again, a wave of nausea. Eve realized suddenly, horrifyingly, that she was going to be sick.

“Honey, are you unwell?” Mrs. Dennehy noticed.

Eve shook her head. She couldn't speak for fear of losing her composure.

“Oh, dear. I've seen that look, too. There's a water closet around the corner.” She directed Eve right to the door and stood outside ready to help as Eve tried, and barely managed, to contain her nausea.

Fortunately, the wave passed. Eve splashed a little water on her face and rejoined Mrs. Dennehy. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't know what came over me. It certainly wasn't the cheese. I love cheese.”

“How far are you along?” Mrs. Dennehy asked with a knowing grin.

“I'm sorry?” Eve said.

“How far?” She patted her stomach. “I couldn't stomach cheese during either of my two pregnancies.”

“Oh,” Eve laughed. “I'm not pregnant.”

But then she paused, and she considered. She hadn't had her flow in over a month, but she'd never been irregular. What could it mean? Had she been wrong about her ability to have children? Her heart beat faster with the possibility.

Mrs. Dennehy shrugged. “You would know best.”

Would I?
she wondered. Suddenly, she felt certain that Mrs. Dennehy could be right. She'd been such an idiot to run away from Marcus, especially after he'd said that a man would accept the woman he loved without hesitation. She'd told him that she feared she couldn't have children, and he didn't seem bothered by it. Not a bit. So why had she run out without giving him a chance? He was the man she loved. And she knew he loved her, too. How could she have just run away?

“Thank you, Mrs. Dennehy. It was lovely meeting you. I'm glad Brandon is working out for you. He's a good boy. I have to get back to Thornbrook Park. To London, actually. I left something in London.”

Her heart. Marcus hadn't been expecting her until today and she hoped she could get there in time to keep their plans to talk. It wasn't too late to catch the afternoon train.

“My advice to you, Mrs. Kendal? See a doctor soon.”

“I will,” Eve said, managing to contain her blush. “Thank you for the visit.”

“Brief as it was. Come back soon.” Mrs. Dennehy walked her to the door. “You're always welcome.”

Eve had to go back to London right away. It had been a big mistake to run off without seeing Marcus. She practically bounded down the green, eager to get home as fast as her legs could carry her, but she became winded and the last mile was slow going.

Ginny, the maid, was in the drawing room when she returned.

“Ginny, how are you today?”

“I'm well, thank you,” she said. “I've got a message for you. I'm not supposed to let anyone else hear.”

“Oh?” Eve cocked a brow.

“He wants you to meet him. He said you would know where.”

“Meet him? Who?” She couldn't fathom that Marcus would have risked sending a message through a maid, but maybe he came back from London early. Maybe he couldn't wait to see her. Or had Tom told him about her visit?

Ginny nodded knowingly. “He said to meet him where the sunflowers grow.”

So it
was
Marcus. “He's back? When?”

“Not long ago. He will be there. Waiting.” Ginny turned to leave.

Marcus. Her heart surged. He'd come back early. He'd come back for her. But perhaps he wasn't ready yet to talk to his brother. He wanted some time alone with her? As much as she dreaded the thought of another walk, she felt energized by the idea of being alone with him. She didn't dare risk asking Dale to drive her.

“Thank you.” Eve called after Ginny but the maid had gone. She took a deep breath and set off again in the direction of the farm, hoping she could find her way to the old McGinty fields.