The Baron & the Clockmaker's Daughter

  Chapter 6

  Faith had been gone for more than a month.

  At first, he hadn’t believed that she would really go, even after her speech. And then, he’d thought she’d come back, once she was satisfied he’d been duly punished. Too late, he knew now that he’d lost her, and at the same time, any hope of happiness he might have harboured.

  Maids were relaying to watch over the children, but that couldn’t last. When he’d known for certain that Faith had gone, he’d forced himself to go up to the nursery to see the children. It was the least he could do to begin to purge his guilt. He was amazed every time he saw the transformation of the four rooms on the second floor. There were bright colours everywhere he looked. There was an abundance of flowers with a fragrance that permeated the rooms, because Christopher had continued to pick them for Faith. Everything was neat and tidy but there was an air of the place being lived-in. He sat on one of the small children’s chairs that made him look ridiculous. They hadn’t said anything expecting him to start. Christopher sat in a similar chair next to him holding the puppy in his arms giving him kisses to his head every now and then. Helen was sitting on the rug a thumb in her mouth. Something he’d never seen her do before.

  “I’m afraid we argued and Miss Eversley decided to leave us. I’m sorry. I shall have to find someone else to take her place, but if you would try to be good in the meantime, I would appreciate it.”

  What else could one say to infants? He wondered how his brother Jeremy had managed, but when one is present from the beginning, perhaps it comes naturally? He got up ready to leave and then added, “If you need to speak to me, don’t be afraid to come and find me.”

  That was probably why brave little Christopher had come to him, willing to give up his dog if Miss Eversley would come back. He’d thought that the puppy had been the reason for their dispute.

  A note had arrived for Faith from Eloïse Brosnan a little after she’d left. Quentin had been surprised, as it was yet another change that had taken place without him being aware. She had evidently made the acquaintance of the Brosnans. He didn’t open the note but put a quick note of his own with it to send back. His note had said that he was sorry to say that Miss Eversley had decided to leave without giving a forwarding address. He hoped that the family was well and to have the pleasure of seeing them again soon.

  What else could he say? That he was a nincompoop?

  There was a middle-aged woman looking after the children now. She was pleasant enough and they hadn’t complained. She was a nursemaid, not a governess, so he found he was trying to spend more time with the children to compensate for the blow they’d been dealt. It was true that Christopher was a bright little boy. He actually found himself having conversations with him. Who would have thought it possible with a five-year-old? Helen was likeable too. She didn’t hesitate to put her arms around his neck and kiss him before running off distracted by something else. Was this the flip side of the coin? Through commotion he had found harmony in a semblance of family.

  James Reed hadn’t said anything to him, but there was now a chill on their working relationship. Perhaps he’d guessed that there had been more going on between them than an employer and employee? Perhaps that was why he hadn’t tried to win Faith for himself once she’d gone.

  Quentin was tired of trying to analyse, decipher and to understand non-substantial quantities. He preferred it when he could write it down or touch it, but that wouldn’t get Faith back.

  He’d never felt so bereft in his life.

  Irene had disappointed him, even secretly embarrassed him, but he’d felt a sense of relief once he’d stepped back from her. Irene and Faith were of two different worlds. It would be like comparing gems to fruit — you can’t. He’d already established in his mind that Faith was fruit. He supposed that Irene was the gem. Something that sparkled but that was hard and cold.

  She had been one of the young girls that had entered the social scene looking for a marriageable man. The London Season drew hundreds of girls at all levels of the aristocracy each year. Everyone was expected to play the game and participate, he no less than anyone else. He was marriageable and an above-average ‘catch.’ The day was bound to arrive when he would need to marry to produce an heir. The display of young innocent girls with their dowries, hinted at or blatantly put on the table, added to the thrill of the chase. Everyone knew the rules.

  Irene had made a point of catching his attention. She was exquisite, and he was flattered. The other men at the same gatherings were heard to make envious remarks wondering why he deserved such a beauty and suggesting that he wouldn’t be able to keep her. At eighteen, she was already sophisticated beyond her years.

  Of only average height, she nonetheless knew how to draw one’s attention when she entered a room.

  Her black, shiny hair was dressed to suit her and not the fashion. A luxuriant mass piled and pinned to the top of her head added inches which also added to her elegance. It made one want to let it down to see how far it went. She was blessed with a pale, blemish-free complexion which also made one want to know how far it went. Her hazel eyes were framed by thick dark lashes that she fluttered with an innocence that could send the blood rushing in a monk, and having escaped from the hypnotic hold of her eyes, her heaving breasts would finish a man. They had nearly finished him.

  There was something cold and calculating about her, though. He’d never done more than kiss her and that had always left him feeling dissatisfied. Her mouth was there, but she wasn’t. Kissing her was more of a challenge than a real desire. Maybe that had been her plan all along; to be just out of reach so that you would be the one to catch her. You would be the one who would initiate her to love and bring her alive. But how do you bring a gem, a stone, alive? That had been part of the illusion.

  He hadn’t been aware that he had shown any reticence about their relationship, but perhaps she’d thought he was hesitating or maybe she was tired of waiting. He would never know.

  Her dowry was negligent. Her family had suffered losses for one reason or another, so she had to aim high. His title was not the target. A baron is nothing compared to a duke. The target she was aiming for was his money. He was wealthy, very wealthy. It just so happened that his brother Jeremy was as well, but he wasn’t the baron. He guessed she’d decided to set her cap for the baron first.

  He had reached the point where he was tottering on the threshold of asking her to marry him. They were at one of the lavish balls of the season and she looked particularly desirable, and he’d finally decided.

  They had gone into the dining room to have something to eat and were sitting apart from any of the other guests.

  Thank God, she had spoken before he’d had the chance. He no longer remembered her exact words as they had cut him to the quick, but the sense of them had been that he was in competition with his brother. If he didn’t make a move, who could tell, she might just be snatched up by Jeremy, which she said with a smile.

  That had done it quicker than any blade to the heart.

  She must have seen her mistake, because after that her attentions were fully turned to Jeremy. He had watched her from a distance detached from emotion, seeing how she was so talented in her manipulations. He’d watched her repeat what he had already lived and the worst part of it was, he could not save his brother. Jeremy would never have believed him. He would have suspected that he was envious.

  She was a diamond, cold, hard and colourless. She only reflected the colours around her, nothing more. Each person who saw his own colours mirrored in her, thought she was his match.

  Within the year, she was married to Jeremy. A year later, Christopher was born. A little over a year after that, Helen was there, and Irene had gone off with a rich Italian to Naples.

  The saddest thing was that Jeremy had truly loved her. He’d been distraught, devastated when she’d left him, but the children had kept him focussed, most of the time. When he wasn’t focussed, it was because he?
??d succumbed to drinking, wallowing in his misery. There was nothing Quentin could do to help.

  It had ended with Jeremy killing himself and a horse in a carriage accident when he’d been blind drunk. There were no words to repair the damage done by Irene.

  Now he was pleased that Christopher spoke to him without being spoken to first. It was a breakthrough in their relations. Helen had accepted him, too, with an easy grace, holding his hand when she could. Christopher had told him about Kate Brosnan and her brother Ben. Quentin listened attentively as Christopher seemed to be a different person as he spoke about the times they had been with the other children. When he asked how often they had visited each other, he was surprised that it had only been twice.

  On one occasion he’d gone with them into the woods to see where it was that they had climbed trees. They were happy to show him how easy it was, trying to get him up a tree. He hadn’t planned on climbing, so his clothes wouldn’t allow it, but he promised he would the next time. Christopher pointed to a branch quite high up and said,

  “That’s the branch Miss Eversley reached.”

  The boy realised too late that it was a subject to be avoided. Guilt washed over him, but Quentin soothed the moment by saying, “It is very high. I’m not sure I would be courageous enough to reach it.”

  They moved on to another topic.

  On the way back to the house, Christopher had looked up at Quentin and asked him if he had liked Miss Eversley. Of course, he had meant it in the sense that one likes peas—or not.

  “Yes, I did like her,” he replied, realising it was the truth. The pain that stabbed him reminded him that it had been a little more than that. For all her provoking ways, it was more than that.

  “Are you still angry with her?” Christopher persisted.

  “No, I don’t think I was ever angry with her. I was angry with something in me.”

  “Then why don’t you go and bring her back? I’m sure she won’t be angry with you either,” Christopher innocently commented.

  Quentin stopped in his tracks. He had to think about this.

  “Uncle Quentin, are you all right?” Christopher asked like a grown-up.

  He felt both the children tugging on his hands as he resurfaced.

  “Yes, yes I’m all right. Come on, I expect we can have some tea and biscuits when we get back to the house.”

  “I prefer cake,” Helen stated.

  He’d left the children with Mrs. ‘Whatever her name was,’ Faith’s replacement. He took his tea and biscuits to his haven, the library. He did his best thinking there.

  Did he want Faith back? Yes.

  Did he think she’d come back?

  He was mostly doubtful, because she had probably turned the page. She’d had to if she were to earn money. Coming back might be painful for her and anyway, how could she trust him? His terrible mistake had been the breach of her trust. He had wanted to possess her by bending her to his will, to show who was master, who was stronger and he had been doomed to fail because she was whole and solid. He was cracked and weakened by jealousy. He’d felt left out and had been like a spoiled child who had wanted to spite someone. He was pitiable.

  If he went and found her, what could he possibly offer that might persuade her to return?

  The children were, of course, the main incentive. But she’d made the break and life went on for them all. There was no need to go back, and it was impossible to recapture an unblemished happiness that no longer existed. He could and would offer her marriage, but who would want to marry him knowing what a poor example of an adult he was?

  He didn’t just want Faith back, he wanted her, her essence, and he wanted her to want him. While there was a modicum of a chance that he could bring her back, he would not be able to get on with his life. He had to know. But first, finding Faith had to be his priority.

  He would begin at her aunt’s.

  One of his grooms had been to the aunt’s. He went to the stables to find out who knew the way to Florence Warren’s cottage, and to organise them to go with him tomorrow. It would probably take them just over an hour travelling at an easy pace.

  He’d had the presence of mind to have goods prepared to take to the aunt and her companion, regardless of the outcome. They weren’t well off, so no doubt extra vegetables, fruit and eggs from the farm would supplement their stores. He’d see if they had a smoked ham for them too. The short time he’d spent with Mrs. Warren had left him with the memory of an astute woman, and he could appreciate anyone with a quick mind and a sense of humour.

  He honestly didn’t expect to find Faith at her aunt’s after all the time she’d been gone from Marshalswick House. Consequently, he had a bag prepared by Whittle with his shaving gear, and a change of clothing. He made it known to both Whittle and Stokes that he might be gone for an unknown length of time and that he would keep them up to date on his general movements. He and the groom left the next day in the phaeton. He didn’t know how far he would be travelling and wanted something more solid that the curricle.

  It was as he had expected. Faith was no longer at her aunt’s. Mrs. Warren and Miss Warren had invited them both in for tea. Once tea was finished, Quentin gave George Bates, the groom, a nod, and he had excused himself and gone outside to wait.

  Florence Warren was puzzled. She wondered what this man was now doing in her home. It was evident that it concerned Faith, but he’d waited too long if he’d hoped to make headway with her. She was gone. She and Nessie knew everything.

  Faith had been terribly upset when she’d arrived, but as the journey had taken her several hours, she was over the worst when she’d got there. Looking at the man sitting in front of her, Florence had the impression that this man was on his own and had been for a long time. He didn’t know how to live with other people.

  He’d tried to coerce Faith into having sex with him, but, he hadn’t forced her. He was certainly strong enough had he wanted to.

  She had no intention of telling him where Faith had gone, because she had requested it upon leaving. But, as her aunt, she had to ascertain his motives for being there. The simplest way was to be direct.

  “Why do you want to see Faith?”

  “Did she tell you what happened? If she didn’t, I will but I must admit I’m ashamed of my behaviour.”

  “She told us everything, blackmail and coercion included.”

  He looked down at his hands not daring to see the reproach in her eyes.

  “I am entirely responsible. I let my judgement be clouded by my feelings of the moment, which were dishonourable. I sincerely regret the results of which are two unhappy children who love and miss her.”

  “And you?”

  He looked up. She could see that he was emotionally affected.

  “Yes. I love and miss her too.”

  It was her turn to look down. There was one enormous credit due to him, in her way of thinking. As abject as his proposed coercion had been, he hadn’t forced her…

  “You do understand that there is little chance that she will go back as she can no longer trust you. If your attraction to her is that strong, there is nothing to prevent you from using the children again. She left after spending two months in your household. The damage was limited. A second time would be catastrophic.”

  “I regret more than you can imagine. I wouldn’t ask her to return as anything less than my wife.”

  Florence wanted to be sure he understood.

  “I can’t speak for Faith, but I am able to say that she loves those children. What if she doesn’t love you?”

  “I would do everything in my power so she would love me. If she can’t but still agrees to marry me, I would rather that than lose her.” He shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

  “She has asked us not to reveal her destination or resources to anyone. We promised and we have every intention of keeping that promise. However, I will act purely as an intermediary person if you wish. You have only to give me your letters and I w
ill join them to mine. I will forward her replies to you. That is the best I can do for the moment.”

  “I understand. In that case, I will have my letter delivered to you in due course with the cost of the postage for all the letters. Thank you for listening to me. You were under no obligation to invite me in, and I appreciate the gesture.”

  He stood to take leave.

  “We have an abundance of crops this year, so I thought you might enjoy the benefit of some. Bates will carry them into the kitchen for you. I beg to take leave of you now hoping that the circumstances of our next meeting will be happier.”

  He bowed slightly and she addressed him, “My Lord.”

  They parted ways.

  Bates had driven back to Marshalswick because Quentin had wanted to think carefully about his options. He had decided that he could not wait for the post to go, then for Faith to decide if she would respond or not, and then for the return post. He had to somehow discover the address to which it was being sent. Bribery was not beyond his scruples, and the postman had only to give him the address on his own letter and nothing else. The letter could still go, but he would arrive before it.

  He had to see Faith.

  No other woman he encountered had the slightest effect on him, as he simply didn’t heed them. He wanted to cry at the loss he had inflicted upon himself. He could no longer work, he slept sporadically, waking from erotic dreams of Faith, and he had to force himself to eat as food seemed tasteless to him. He was in a sorry shape even knowing that he was obsessing over Faith. It was the not knowing which kept him antsy.

  The bribery provided the name and address of where the letters would be delivered. Quentin, of course, didn’t know if Faith was living there, working there or simply had friends there accepting her post for her. He couldn’t go barging in as he didn’t want to frighten her away. He wanted to have a fair chance of stating his case, so it was best if he could determine her situation first. What he had was:

  Miss Faith Eversley

  In the care of Curzon’s Haberdashery Shop

  High Street

  Chipping Barnet, Hertfordshire

  He knew Chipping Barnet.

  Everyone in this part of England did. Apart from anything else, it was known for its horse fair and its market, in existence for hundreds of years and also closely connected to St Albans. He could almost visualise the shop in the High Street.

  He had told Florence Warren that he would do anything in his power to have Faith love him. He’d started by asking the children to draw pictures for her. They were happy to do a lot, because they were excited to think that he was going to try and bring her home.

  He’d also brought a family ring, an heirloom, with him to pledge his troth, if she’d let him, and he’d go down on one knee if he had to. What did other men do? It was too late to ask. He was on his own — again.

  He’d ridden to Chipping Barnet as it wasn’t far, and it was easier to stable a horse than a carriage and horses. He hadn’t needed his groom, so he was completely independent. He took rooms at the Red Lion Inn because he didn’t know how soon he would find Faith, or how long he would be staying.

  The landlord and his wife were pleasant. They needed to be with the competition of all the other inns that existed in the town. He’d heard that The Green Man was their principal rival. It didn’t much matter to him though, which inn he chose. They would all be noisy. There was an average of a hundred and fifty coaches, the mail coach included, passing through Chipping Barnet every day. It was the first stage on the main road from London to York and beyond.

  The inn meal had been tolerable and their ale, not bad. The bed needed the ropes to be tightened but, for one person, it didn’t matter too much. He would mention it to the landlord just in case he found the time to do it.

  He was awake early, probably anxious to start looking for Faith. The maid had brought hot water and he’d washed, shaved and dressed by eight. Breakfast was hectic, but he didn’t mind as the bustle was cheerful. It could have been a day in July rather than September for the sunny warmth that waited for him outside. The landlord had given him instructions to find Curzon’s and he was now headed that way.

  He found the shop and stopped to look in the front window to see if he might get a glimpse of her. Unfortunately, any view of the inside shop was blocked by the elaborate display that filled the window. The sign on the door had indicated that the shop was open from nine ‘til seven. As it wasn’t much after nine now, it might be the best time to go in when there weren’t many customers. He could always buy something as an excuse for entering; ribbon that he would give to Helen or Faith when he found her.

  He went in and a bell over the door rang. There weren’t any customers yet, so he walked directly to the back of the shop and the main counter.

  It had taken him a minute to adjust to the dim light in the store having just left bright sunshine outside, but when he could see clearly, he was elated (and afraid) to see Faith standing quietly behind the counter watching him approach. He couldn’t smile when he saw how she stared. He held his hat in his hand and looked at it now before looking up at her again.

  “Have you come to ‘coerce’ me some more?” she asked in a hard tone.

  “I’ve come to ask you to marry me.”

  It was the first thing that he could utter.

  “But I don’t like you, Mr. Wolfe, and I don’t find you attractive enough to marry now. Did you wish to purchase anything? I can recommend some pretty ribbon for a child of three or perhaps a silver buckled belt for a five-year-old boy…?”

  He stood silently in front of her trying to see the tiniest chink of the Faith he knew. He understood that he had hurt her terribly, so he would accept any words she threw at him.

  “We all want you to come home. I will make amends to you for the rest of my life, if only you will give me a second chance?”

  “A second chance to humiliate me? You’ll never change. It’s too late. I’ve had many hours to relive that last encounter. I couldn’t understand at first what had suddenly changed you to a mean, bitter man. But I woke up in the middle of the night knowing. You are jealous and possessive. I don’t want to be on guard for the rest of my life on the off-chance that I might offence you and be humiliated in consequence. Marriage won’t change you, but it will bind me to you. Please go and let me heal peacefully.”

  He could see the tears in her eyes. His heart stopped for an indefinite amount of time and then he drew in a gulp of air, because he had forgotten to breathe too.

  “I am not going to give up trying, Faith. The children are at home waiting, hoping that you’ll come back with me.” He paused, searching for the words that might sway her. “I want to change. I want you to change me. I’m not happy as I am but I don’t know anything else. I have never had anyone who cared for me, so, how am I to know what is right? Please give me some of your time so we can begin to know each other. Please?”

  She looked at his clean-shaven face and saw that it was thinner. He looked thinner and older.

  “How old are you?”

  “Does it matter, if I’m willing to change? Some people mellow with age.”

  “I might not. We have been at loggerheads from the very first day.”

  “I don’t care. I need you as you are.”

  He looked at her with an intense unsmiling face.

  He didn’t know, but she felt compassion for the boy he must have been. Christopher risked growing into the same cast and that saddened her. She had no qualms for Helen, because she was made of tougher stuff.

  The bell rang above the door as a client entered.

  “I’m at the Red Lion Inn. Please come and have dinner with me?” he implored.

  “I finish at seven. You can come and accompany me.”

  He nodded.

  “At seven then,” he agreed. He daren’t say more.

  He left as the customer arrived at the counter with a box of buttons in her hand.

  He didn’t feel
triumphant because the negotiations had only just begun. He knew that ‘There’s many a slip twixt the cup and the lip.’

  He informed the landlord that he would be requiring dinner for two. He wanted the best of everything for the meal, because he hoped the lady would do him the honour of becoming his wife.

  “Right you are, Guv’ner. You can count on me and the Mrs.”

  Quentin was there before seven, not wanting to risk that Faith leave without him. Her acceptance to dine with him had given him hope, but she’d had all day to change her mind. He waited near the shop not wishing to annoy her by entering in case there were customers. She didn’t like his possessiveness and he admitted to himself he wanted to possess her, make her his. On the other hand, what woman wanted a man that hovered ineffectually outside a shop? He was totally lost with all this soul searching. He didn’t know how to behave any more.

  He didn’t have any idea of her age. If she were twenty, she might think twice before committing herself to a man of thirty five. Mind you, he wasn’t going to tell her his age if he could help it and might even lie if pushed to it.

  He’d been leaning against the corner of the shop lost in his thoughts when he heard the bell over the door ring as she came out. He came to attention and began to move towards her as she was locking the door. She looked up at him without expression, and he felt he was no better than any man passing in the street. Or worse — a person one has known and forgotten because they weren’t important enough to have made an impression. It made him angry. He’d wanted to be placating, but now he had to know. He took her arm firmly as she put the key in her reticule, which made her look up in surprise.

  “Miss Eversley, please be honest with me. Tell me now if you have no wish for us to dine together. You know that the dining is secondary to me. I simply want to be in your company and know you better.”

  He’d turned her so her back was against the building and he was in front of her as protection from passers-by. She looked up at him as she had the very first time they had met in the market. She wondered, if she went back to that time and was given the chance to choose again, would she go to Marshalswick? He put a hand on the wall near to her shoulder and his dominating presence weakened her resolve to be hard on him.

  “Mr. Wolfe, let’s have dinner and talk. Perhaps the situation will become a little clearer for both of us.”

  It was feeling his body relax that made him realised just how tense he had been. He whispered, ‘thank you’ as he took her hand to kiss the back of it before tucking it around his arm. She saw the little smile he gave, and she thought immediately of Christopher. There was a resemblance now she looked closer, and it wasn’t just physical. Her heart softened a little.

  The landlord of the Red Lion had outdone himself on their behalf. He’d reserved a small, private salon for them and then proceeded to surprise them with tempting morsels in a variety of dishes. Both Quentin and Faith were surprised to find that they were eating heartily and enjoying the bottle of Burgundy produced from a dark corner of the cellar. Quentin felt he owed the innkeeper more than the price of the meal as the conviviality it had engendered was priceless. They were sitting on the same padded bench and Quentin saw Faith relax. She had worked all day and had probably been on her feet most of that time.

  He didn’t want to pry into the steps she had taken to be working there, but he did want to know if she was tied in any way. So it was the only question he posed that touched on the work she was doing.

  She told him that she was bound to work until the end of October as the owners would not be back before then. His restraint was obvious, so she put him out of his misery by explaining that she’d known the owners before the job became vacant. They were travelling in Ireland and had left the shop in her care.

  “Does that mean that at the end of October you will be unemployed?” he said with an eager tone to his voice. She looked down.

  “Yes, but don’t imagine that it means I will return to Marshalswick, Mr. Wolfe. I am still unconvinced after a dinner with you that anything would be any different. This has been a delightful meal, but we haven’t really talked about our individual aspirations.”

  He took her hand again almost unconsciously. He entwined her fingers with his and then put it down again not wanting to reveal the tension he was feeling.

  “My ultimate desire is to live with you and the children in Marshalswick or anywhere that would make you happy. I would like to have at least a child with you that would add to our family. That is all. I am wealthy, so you would never want for anything material and I would hope to make you happy enough that you wouldn’t want for anything immaterial. What do you need to be happy?”

  “I want to go slowly. I don’t want everything at once. I want to enjoy anticipating even if there are disappointments. Would you be willing to go slowly, Mr. Wolfe?”

  “If I had you to anticipate, yes.”

  “Why me? I don’t understand why.”

  She shook her head almost imperceptibly.

  “Because I have never felt alive before you. Of course I have lived, worked even enjoyed certain moments of my life, but you have made me lose the control that I once valued so much, that also kept me in check. Since knowing you, I’ve accepted a dog. I’ve had conversations with a five year old. I’ve walked around naked. I’ve been miserable. I’ve been putting my whole existence into question, and I’ve had fleeting moments of pure bliss that I would like to recapture with you.”

  He looked at her with such intensity that she was at a loss for words.

  “Why you? I don’t know why it was you. You’ve made me laugh but so have others, to no avail. You’re lovely, you smell good. Part of my failing is that I have an analytical mind. I’ve tried to analyse my feelings — impossible. No one has ever turned me inside out or upside down as you have. You tell me why…”

  He’d taken her hand again and was holding it against his cheek. He could smell the subtle perfume of her wrist. He wanted to lick her wrist. He had never licked a woman before in his life. He had never licked anything, except maybe his own lips. Where does such an idea come from? Last year, last month, yesterday it would have struck him as being entirely absurd.

  “May I call you Faith? I think of you as Faith, another thing I would never have permitted myself before knowing you. I wish you would call me Quentin so I can be comfortable when I dream about you. It seems silly to call you Miss Eversley in my dreams when I’m kissing you.”

  He smiled cheekily.

  “Oh dear, oh dear…what have you done?” she began with a hint of distress to her voice.

  He looked a little concerned that he’d said something wrong. She moved the hand he was holding against his cheek to cup his other cheek and pull his face around to meet hers. She kissed his mouth and he stifled a groan that was only the tiniest indication of the turmoil that now flooded him. Her hand dropped as he turned her more completely towards him and he took her in his arms tenderly bringing his head down to her neck and shoulder. His breathing was ragged as he could finally hope that all was not lost.

  “I do want to marry you. I wanted to marry you the day I was so mean, but I didn’t want to admit it to you. Please, please forgive those words I spoke. There is no excuse for my behaviour and I only hope you will give me the opportunity to blot them out with happier times together.”

  The Landlord knocked on the door before asking if everything had been satisfactory, giving a wink to Quentin.

  “You have served a meal to remember. Thank you.” Quentin said with a winning grin.

  Faith gave an appreciate nod and smile, too, so he withdrew to tell his Mrs. that it had been a success. Faith looked at Quentin closely.

  “I must be going. It will be another long day tomorrow.”

  “You have made me feel happy again Faith. I will go slowly if it is what you need to be happy. Where do you lodge? I’ll take you now,” he proposed.

  “Why, I am staying in the rooms above the shop. My frien
ds have left everything to my responsibility.”

  “Come then. It has been a long day for us both in one way or another.”

  He pulled her to him as they left the inn and took her hand and held it on his arm while they walked back to the shop. There were few people in the street at half past nine. He was reluctant to let her go once they had arrived in front of the shop, but there was no way to put back the inevitable. He watched as she drew out the key from her bag to unlock the door. When she turned to him again, he pressed her into the doorway to enclose and to kiss her. She sighed as their mouths met tenderly and then more fiercely and then gently. He hugged her to him with his mouth near to her ear as he whispered,

  “We are good together, aren’t we? Don’t you feel that we complete each other, Faith?”

  She put her forehead on his shoulder without speaking. She looked up at him in the semi-dark night.

  “It’s physical. I admit it to you and myself now that I have spent an evening with you. I desire you, but I still don’t know you. I am lost because …”

  “I know what I want, there is no doubt in my mind. Marry me and we’ll have as much time as we need to discover one another as man and wife,” he urged.

  “Come for me tomorrow evening. I have to think about everything very carefully.”

  She went up on her toes and kissed him again, affectionately, before turning, entering the shop, and locking the door from the inside.

  Quentin leaned on the doorframe while he felt his racing pulse slow down. He was more confident in the turn of things than he had been this morning. Perhaps he could win her yet. He walked slowly back to the Red Lion Inn, happy to be left in the dim light with his optimistic thoughts.

  -o0o-

  He was there with a posy at nine o’clock when she opened the shop. She didn’t look surprised to see him, but then he’d not stopped telling her how important she was to him. He stepped inside the door and gave her the posy while asking her for just five minutes of her time. She agreed as long as he didn’t interfere with custom. She was working for someone, and she couldn’t let them down by neglecting sales.

  “I will buy anything you like if it will buy me a little of your time,” he proposed.

  “That won’t be necessary,” she assured him. He took heart.

  “I presume that the shop is shut tomorrow? I would like to spend the day with you by hiring a carriage and taking a picnic with us somewhere. I am going to have to return to Marshalswick for work but I need to know if I may come each Sunday and spend it with you? If you like, I can come with the children too. They are longing to see you again.”

  “I understand. If you don’t object coming here again tonight, we can decide about arrangements,” she tilted her head waiting for his response.

  “I’ll be here at seven.”

  He leaned down to kiss her fleetingly on the lips, drawing in her tantalising fragrance. It reminded him of the rose garden at home. He couldn’t stop himself taking her shoulders to pull her into his embrace. He hugged her almost desperately, and she let him hold her, enjoying his strength. He drew back and assured her he would be there at seven. He left.

  He spent the day catching up with correspondence he’d neglected while searching for Faith had occupied his mind. Even so, he looked at the time often, calculating the hours, minutes before their evening meeting.

  This was part of what Faith liked — the anticipation of a tryst. She had taken time to change into one of her dresses which had been stored away here. She had long ago grown tired of the only two dresses she’d had in Marshalswick. Those which Eloïse had given her had been left behind, as she felt guilty taking them with her when she hadn’t even said goodbye. The dress she was wearing now was a dark blue that made her eyes seem bluer and flattered her figure with its soft lines.

  When Quentin appeared at seven, she had him come in. She then locked the door and drew down the blind. As soon as she redressed herself and turned, he took her into his arms and held her to him putting kisses on the top of her head.

  “You’re going to have to stop that,” she said into his jacket front. “You’re reminding me of Christopher kissing Wizz on the head.”

  He chuckled giving her yet another.

  “Come with me,” she encouraged him to follow by taking his large hand as she passed him. She went upstairs to the flat above the shop. She’d prepared a light meal for them both, which touched him as she’d automatically included him in her plans. She asked him if he cared for a glass of beer which he accepted.

  They sat for a while, side by side on the sofa drinking their ale. He couldn’t help himself, or perhaps he didn’t realise he was doing it, but he touched her hand, he pushed back a strand of hair off her face, he put his arm behind her on the back of the sofa and then clasped her far shoulder to pull her nearer. Then he took a hand with his free hand. She had the pleasant sensation that he was reassuring himself with each gesture that she was there. She took the hand holding hers and turned it over to look at it. She took his fingers individually and smoothed them from the crux to the tip. He watched mesmerised. She matched her palm with his, laughing at the difference of size and shape. There was no mistaking his man’s hand with hers. He sighed softly as she got up pulling on the hand she held in hers. They went to the table to dine. They were to sit opposite each other.

  As she left him to go to the kitchen, he looked at the room.

  It was tiny compared to any of the rooms in his house, and there was little free space anywhere. A small fireplace was standing empty except for the grate. There were ornaments on the mantelpiece and a mirror above that. The wallpaper was light with dark wood floors and woodwork. A picture rail ran around the room making it look smaller yet. The carpet looked bright with a pattern of colours pleasing to the eye. The armchairs looked comfortable and, despite its size and crowdedness, the room was welcoming. He didn’t understand why.

  Faith brought in a dinner plate in each hand and she warned him that the plate was hot. It smelled delicious. He held her chair as she sat and then sat himself. He enjoyed the simple meal. She knew how to cook. They ate and talked and drank a little and at some time it became necessary to light the candles on the table. The room took on a fairy-tale glow and he wanted to laugh. So, he did.

  They talked some more and it was the first time in a long while he’d conversed at length about something other than business. When they’d both eaten enough, she got him to sit and wait while she cleared the table.

  He sat in one of the high-back armchairs with his hands behind his head feeling relaxed. When Faith came back into the room, he noticed how slender yet shapely she was. He wanted to see her hair down and the thought went to his gut, and then he felt a physical stirring as his desire for her increased. He tamped down the thought as his new found acceptance by Faith was something he did not want to jeopardize with his physical desire.

  She had kissed him, and it had shown him that she had accepted him as a potential suitor. All was not lost. She approached and without prompting leaned towards him putting her hands on the chair’s arms either side of him to place a kiss on his lips.

  It was too much. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him taking her into his arms. Their kiss took over, and it was a mending of the breach.

  “Faith, will you please marry me?” he beseeched her.

  “I think it will be one of those things I need to anticipate for a while. I will marry you, Quentin, but not immediately. Will that answer do for now?”

  “You really will marry me? You’re not just saying that to be kind at this moment? You can have no idea how the thought of losing you has shaken my confidence.”

  It was beyond his understanding how a young woman, whom he had encountered in a marketplace, could exercise such power over him. He felt adrift, insecure. It was a troubling sensation for someone who had prided himself on always having control.

  “I will marry you, but I need to return to the children and start afresh.
I am drawn to you as I have never been drawn to another man, but I will not be submissive. I saw how my mother was deprived of a life because she was there for my father alone. He did not tolerate sharing her.”

  He nodded trying not to feel rejected or distrusted. He did feel a tiny stab of guilt though, because at this moment he wanted her for himself alone. The fact that she had mentioned the children had left him wanting the affection that she was so ready to bestow on them. He hugged her again, because she was with him and he didn’t want to let her go.

  She freed herself and stood pulling him up to be with her. He came to his feet slowly, sorry to lose the feel of her body pressed against his. She guided him into the next room which was a bedroom, and he looked at her in amazement wondering what she was proposing. Dare he believe?

  “Faith?” he questioned.

  She answered him by beginning to undo his neckcloth. He was unable to move, never imagining she would be so bold. Finally, he shirked off his jacket and continued undressing until there were only his trousers and boots. Suddenly, he was unsure of himself. She let him undo the buttons at the front of her dress and he could see by candlelight the shape of her breasts pushing against the soft cotton of her chemise. He let a hand pass over the form gently, and she caught her breath sharply.

  She thought that maybe this stripping brought them to the same level. There was no longer a social order nor any secrecy. Both could see what they were getting in that brief instance of calm before the storm. Within a second, he grabbed her to him to find her mouth again. He picked her up and carried her to the bed and joined her immediately, kissing anywhere his mouth could find. It found hers. He kissed her fiercely, almost in a frenzy as he got the taste of her. From that moment on they were carried away by those instinctive actions that have driven man from the beginning of time.

  They were matched.

  Faith was overwhelmed by sensations and emotions. She knew now that she loved Quentin and she had no regrets of giving herself to him.

  They were complete.

  When they returned to the reality of the room, Quentin could not believe that she had sacrificed her virginity. He had been desolate with her loss, never imagining he would be victim of such gut-wrenching sentiments, and now he was humbled. He heaved an enormous sigh as he took in the enormity of the situation that had seemed so desperate yesterday.

  “You have forgiven me…”

  He looked so serious, so earnest that she put her hand on his cheek and turned his regard to hers. She wanted to make this man enjoy all he had surely lacked in boyhood. He seemed more vulnerable now with his emotions bared than he had been naked.

  “I think you don’t even need to ask. I am convinced you love me, and that is enough for me to want to join my life to yours. When I first suggested we marry, I was prepared to commit myself to you without love, as many couples do. Our attraction to each other was how I sought to persuade you. To find that we have more than that… well.”

  She kissed him full on the mouth and he stifled a sob. Seeing her gazing into the distance, he asked her what she was thinking.

  “I was thinking how at ease we are.”

  She drew her hand across his chest absentmindedly.

  “We are already like an old married couple, which reminds me, how old are you?” she suddenly wondered.

  “Please don’t ask. You may not want me when you know.”

  “Silly. You may not want me when you know how old I am,” she retorted.

  “Don’t tell me you’re under sixteen. I really would have trouble accepting you then.”

  “I’m twenty-six, soon twenty-seven, Quentin. Now where do I stand in your esteem?”

  “You stand eight years behind me because I am soon to be thirty five,” he admitted.

  He had not begun to guess that she was that old, and it made him seem less of a lecherous old man.

  “Does that worry you?” he asked.

  It worried him.

  “No, it suits me well. But now I’m curious to know when your birthday is, as you say it’s soon.”

  “The sixth of October.”

  Her mouth dropped.

  “NO! We were born on the same day.”

  He pulled her up to him to kiss her mouth again.

  “That explains everything,” he laughed loudly. “We were meant to be.”

  They slept very little in the night as they discovered other things about each other. They talked and laughed and hugged and kissed until they both slept without knowing who had had the last word.

  Faith woke Quentin in the morning with tea, bread, butter and plum jam — simple fare that suited their naked state. They could see that the day was lovely, but neither of them wanted to share yet with the outside world. More than anything, Quentin wanted to be reassured.

  With her firmly in his arms he asked, “Are you agreed that you’ll be home at the end of October? I want to tell the children so that they have something to look forward to, too.”

  She kissed his rough jaw that had a shadow of a beard.

  “Yes, I will come.”

  “I could come and get you Saturday night and take you home? It isn’t far and I don’t mind sharing you with them,” he smiled, more at ease.

  “Yes, I would love that. You and the children have been a turning point in my life. It isn’t easy to put aside something that has made such an impression on one. The trace lasts a very long time.”

  “That’s settled then, you come home next Saturday for a night.” he said with a laugh to his words.

  At one point in their conversations, Quentin told her how he’d found her. It had weighed heavily on him that she might think her aunt had told him. She simply nodded her head. It was a fact that added to her certainty that he was sincere, because he had gone to a lot of trouble to find her.

  In fact, finding Faith hadn’t been that difficult. It was the keeping of her that needed work, and he was known to be serious when working towards a goal. She rubbed her face on his chest, enjoying the sense of daring that it procured. He had revealed a little of his life to her and the more he told, the more she could imagine that Christopher was a little Quentin in the making. She hoped to remedy that soon enough to spare him the unhappiness.

  He apologised for the rough jaw that he hadn’t been able to shave. All his things were at the inn. She hadn’t minded because it was a whole new masculine world that had begun to open to her. She had certainly never before seen a man’s naked body. She knew statues of men existed but had yet to see a naked one. She was suddenly excited by the wealth of information that was waiting for her in Quentin’s body.

  He admitted that a year ago, the idea of walking about unnecessarily naked in front of a woman would have appalled him. With Faith, her admiration of his body gave him confidence and any awkwardness dissipated with her casual, natural behaviour. She tapped his bottom and he grabbed her yet again to cover her with kisses, laughing like a boy who has just repaid someone for a silly prank.

  They finally got up, more from hunger than anything else. They washed and dressed and Quentin invited her to lunch with him in another inn in the town. The afternoon passed in a lazy sort of way as they had no priorities with which to contend. As the evening drew in, they both became quieter knowing that their idyll was soon to end.

  It was hardly surprising that they were both tired. Quentin didn’t know if he dared ask to spend another night with Faith. She had to work all the following day whereas he could do as he pleased. He didn’t have to ask, as she presumed that they would stay together. They wouldn’t see each other for another week.

  They went to bed as soon as they arrived back. It was more to hold one another and share thoughts, although later they made love slowly and tenderly. Quentin slept as he hadn’t slept in years; just when he would have liked to stay awake all night. It was a novelty to them both to wake in the morning and be able to reach out and find that this overwhelming sense of happiness was embodied in the person lying in th
e same bed.

  Quentin woke first at daybreak and turned on his side to face Faith who slept on. She had plaited her long dark blond hair, and he wanted to loosen it again and put his hands in it as he held her mouth to his. He knew he truly loved her, because he didn’t touch, but let her sleep, even though he ached for her. She needed to sleep while she could as there was a long day ahead waiting for her.

  Then the day truly began and he had to leave. He held her a long time in his arms, his head bent to her neck and shoulder breathing in the rose scented cleanness that was Faith. She finally told him he must let her go, and he replied, as he had once done before, that he didn’t want to. She remembered and laughed turning his face to hers so she could plant a full mouthed kiss on his mouth. He sighed and forced himself to leave her. He had to pick up his belongings, settle his note and collect his horse at the Red Lion Inn. Hard reality finally came into focus.

  “I shall come for you next Saturday evening, Faith, my love. This will be the longest week of my life.”

  Strangely enough, the week didn’t have additional days and the hours were as they should be, but they all counted double for Quentin.