Gifts of the Heart Page 3

  Far down the beach, Delia and Laura bent to pick up shells and place them in baskets, their skirts carefully tucked up so that they wouldn't get wet. From this distance they looked like the children they were, and yet Robert couldn't deny the changes in them. "They've grown," he said.

  "I know." She turned to smile at him. "Delia has a beau."

  "What?" He sat up straight. "She's only a child."

  "Sir Peter Slocum's oldest, Michael. It's really very sweet."

  Robert snorted. "Sweet." He doubted that. Remembering what he had been like at that age, he doubted it very much. "She's too young for an entanglement."

  Eliza laughed. "An entanglement! Oh, Robert."

  "What?"

  "You sound just like my father."

  "I do not." He thought about it for a moment. "I suppose I do, at that. But, drat it, Eliza, I'm not ready for one of my children to start courting. I don't feel old enough."

  "I know." Eliza smiled. "Nor do I. But they've grown, Robert. Perhaps you haven't been here to see it—"

  "I won't come to daggers drawn with you on that, Eliza. Not when I've just got home."

  Eliza stayed quiet for a moment and then sat up, hugging her knees. "How long do you plan to stay?" she asked finally, looking out to sea.

  "I don't know." Until his child was born, perhaps. Until his daughters stopped looking at him as if he were a stranger. Until his wife trusted him again. "I left work undone in London."

  "Then why did you come?"

  "It matters not." He rose, apparently undisturbed by her waspish tone of voice. Why could he not just tell her that he'd been concerned for her, frightened of losing her? Why would the words not come? "I'm going to take a walk. Would you like to come?"

  Eliza yawned, startling both of them. "I'm sorry. No, not just now, Robert. I do get sleepy these days."

  He grinned down at her, looking so much like the young man she had married it made her heart ache. "And you didn't get much sleep last night, did you?"

  "Robert."

  "I didn't know the mother of three could still blush."

  "Almost four," she retorted.

  Robert's smile stiffened. "As you say," he said, and turned away.

  Eliza watched him walk away, chewing at the inside of her lips. For a moment all had been as it once was between them, when she and Robert were young and in love. For he had loved her, of that she was certain, and she thought he still did. His love had changed, though. She supposed that was normal. People didn't stay the same, they changed, and so how they felt would change. Wouldn't it? Then why, she wondered, did she love him as much and as painfully as she had at eighteen?

  A gull screeched overhead, jolting her out of memories that threatened to be both unbearably sweet and unbearably hurtful. Far down the beach, Robert had reached the girls. Delia stood a little apart, her head bent, but Laura was chattering up at him excitedly and gesturing toward the water. They had grown up, her babies. Suddenly she was very glad that there would soon be another, though until this moment her feelings on that had been mixed. Placing a protective hand on her stomach, she felt fierce love surge through her for this child. Robert had yet to show any interest in the new baby, and perhaps he wouldn't if she didn't somehow prod him into it. If she wanted to regain their old closeness, she would have to make an effort. Raising her chin, Eliza rose from the blanket and set off down the beach, toward her family.

  "Oh, no, Papa's coming toward us. No, don't look," Delia said hastily, as Laura's head swiveled. "He'll see you."

  "So?" Laura watched her father approach, and then turned back to contemplating the sea-washed rocks, just beyond the water's edge. Both girls had been very aware of their father's presence on the beach, but neither was quite sure how to react. Papa didn't come on picnics and such. Papa was usually busy with estate business when he was home. What could he possibly want now?

  "I wish we could reach that starfish," Laura said, staring at the rock where the starfish clung, in spite of the incoming tide. "Do you think, if I step on those rocks—"

  "You'll fall," Delia said. "You'll get your dress wet and Mama will be mad."

  "No, she won't. Not really." They both knew that when Mama got upset, it usually wasn't over something so silly as a wet dress. Climbing out on the rocks was nothing, she'd done it before. Still, Laura hesitated. Just now she didn't want to do anything wrong. There was something different about Mama lately. She cried at the oddest things and lost her temper at the oddest times. Both she and Delia had learned to be careful around her. "Maybe I will."

  Delia looked out at the starfish and then shook her head, regretfully. "Better not. It's awfully far out. Though it would look good on the frame Miss Stevenson said we could make, wouldn't it?"

  "If Clive was here, he'd go out for it."

  "If Clive was here, Papa wouldn't pay any attention to us."

  "Yes, he would. Papa likes us."

  "Then why does he always go away? Why doesn't he ever take us to London with him?"

  Laura idly tossed a stone into the water. "Maybe he will, this time."

  "No, he won't. Papa won't take us there."

  "Where won't I take you?" a voice said behind them, and both girls whirled to see their father standing a few feet away, his hands resting on his hips.

  The girls exchanged looks. "Nowhere."

  He looked from one to the other, searching their faces. He hadn't missed their glances, nor was he unaware of the wariness in their eyes now. Was he such a monster, then, that they feared him? "What do you have there?" he asked, dismissing that thought.

  "Shells, Papa." Laura came closer, the wariness leaving her face. "See? We've found so many different ones."

  "I used to pick up shells on this very beach." He smiled down at her. "Had quite a collection, as a matter of fact. What do you plan to do with yours?"

  "Miss Stevenson said if we found enough we could glue them onto a picture frame."

  He nodded, enjoying this moment of closeness and trust with his daughter. "A fine idea."

  "I just wish I could have the starfish."

  "I told you, silly. It's too far out," Delia said.

  "Maybe Daddy could get it." Laura turned large, confiding eyes on him, looking so like Eliza that something caught in his chest. "Please?"

  "Where is it?" he asked.

  "Out there."

  Robert followed her pointing finger and saw the starfish, clinging to a rock that was nearly awash with the waves. Well, why couldn't he get it? he thought, suddenly reckless. Too often he had to disappoint his children. Not this time. He would do a great deal to keep Laura looking at him as she was now. "All right."

  "Papa!" Delia gasped as he stepped onto a rock. "Papa, you'll fall!"

  "No, he won't, silly," Laura said. "He can do anything."

  Not quite. Robert crossed to the next stone, finding it unexpectedly slippery with water and seaweed. Damn, he should have taken off his boots before trying this; the salt water would ruin them. Damn the boots, he thought, and crossed to another rock.

  "Papa, be careful," Delia called.

  He took a moment to steady himself. "I won't drown, Delia," he said, though now he doubted the wisdom of this escapade. The rock with the starfish on it was farther away than it had looked on shore. He could reach it, but it would mean jumping, and he might well fall. He'd come this far, though. He wasn't going to turn back.

  There was nothing for it. Taking a deep breath, he jumped. From the shore he heard shrieks as he tottered on the slippery rock, his arms thrown out to keep his balance. Damn, but he'd done it! Grinning like a boy, he crouched down and dislodged the starfish, carefully placing it in his coat pocket. His valet would have something to say about that, as well as his boots, but he didn't care. He'd done it.

  Standing, he turned. "I've got it!" he called to his daughters, just as a wave broke over the rock and sent him sliding off, into the surf.

  Chapter Five

  “Daddy!”

  “Papa!�
� Delia cried at the same time, throwing out her hand to block Laura from dashing into the surf.

  “Girls, it’s all right,” Eliza said from behind them, hurrying to put her hands on their shoulders. From down the beach she had monitored Robert’s progress across the rocks, wondering what on earth he was doing. “Everything’s fine.”

  “But, Papa—”

  “Look.” Eliza pointed, and they all looked out to sea. Robert, having briefly slipped under the waves, was now sitting next to the rock, in water that was obviously only a few inches deep. His hair was plastered to his head, and a piece of sea-weed clung to the shoulder of his once-immaculate coat. Eliza choked back a laugh. He looked disgruntled and embarrassed, not at all in the mood to laugh at himself. “Are you all right?” she called.

  “Perfectly.” He looked up at her and grinned. “I must look a fool.”

  At that Eliza did laugh, startling the girls. “You do look rather funny.”

  “Daddy, there’s seaweed on your shoulder,” Laura called.

  “Is there, now.” Frowning down at his coat, he plucked the offending piece of seaweed off with such a fastidious gesture that Eliza laughed again.

  “Laugh all you want, madam.” Robert surged to his feet, water coursing off him, and began trudging purposefully toward them. “Perhaps you’d like a seawater bath?”

  Eliza abruptly pulled back from the girls. “Robert—”

  “Hm.” He stopped before her and touched a finger to her nose, making her jerk back in surprise. “You’re starting to freckle.”

  “Am I?” She sounded as breathless as a young girl, she thought, dazedly. “I—my hat, I forgot it—Robert, what in the world were you doing?”

  He grinned, and it transformed his face, making him again appear the young, approachable man she had once loved so. “Getting this,” he said, and brandished the starfish aloft.

  “Daddy! You got it!” Laura launched herself at him, and the strange moment of closeness between him and Eliza was gone. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! It’s the best gift ever!”

  Robert looked startled. “You’re quite welcome, muffin.”

  “Delia, look, we’ve got it!”

  Delia looked at her scornfully. “You’re all wet.”

  Robert abruptly reached out for her, pulling her close. “And so are you.”

  “Daddy!” Delia shrieked, and then laughed. “You’re silly.”

  “Yes, well, I think you should all get out of those wet clothes,” Eliza said, but she was smiling. Robert was hugging his daughters. There were miracles, after all.

  “Oh?” Robert’s eyes held a wicked gleam. “Do you not care to join us, Liza?”

  “No, I do not!” She took a hasty step back. “Come, now, we should go home.”

  “Oh, Mama,” both girls chorused.

  “Oh, Eliza,” Robert chimed in.

  “Now, you stop that,” she said, but she smiled. “You need to get out of those clothes before you take a chill.”

  “And then?”

  Eliza felt the color rushing to her cheeks. “Come, girls,” she said, briskly, putting her hands on their shoulders and turning them away from the beach. They grumbled, but obeyed. After a moment Robert caught up with them, slipping his hand through Eliza’s arm. She smiled at him, and together they walked home, feeling more like a family than they had in many a year.

  A week passed, and then two, and still Robert showed no signs of planning to leave. His mornings were spent in the book-room with his agent, or out on his estate, checking on how the new crops were faring or meeting with his tenants. In a break from past visits, though, he reserved most afternoons for his family. After the day on the beach he had asserted himself and forbidden Eliza to climb the cliff path, but they found other things to do. The girls quickly discarded their initial coolness, welcoming him into their lives, though Delia, like him, was more naturally reserved. And there was Eliza. She smiled at him as she always had, and welcomed him warmly at night. Even on those nights when she told him frankly that she was tired she seemed glad that he stayed with her, nestling next to him and giving him an illusion of closeness. There was no question she had changed. Once her emotions had all been on the surface. Now she was calm and placid and very polite, as if he were a stranger. He didn’t like it at all. There had been love between them once, and passion. Where had it gone?

  Eliza’s emotions were mixed. She liked having Robert home, but it was unsettling, as well. In the past years she had taken over much of what had been his responsibilities. Though she had always consulted him by post, she was the one who had dealt with tenants’ concerns, decided when farm buildings needed new roofs, purchased a new, hardier breed of sheep. She had made the decisions as to the girls’ educations, and she had full responsibility for running the house. Though she hadn’t been raised to do so much, she enjoyed it, thrived on it, glad she was more than just another bored society matron.

  Robert’s return had changed all that. With casual authority he had taken up the job of running the estate again. The tenants that had once turned to her now went to him, their relief at dealing with a man rather than a woman apparent. So did the estate agent. She blamed Robert for that, irrational though she knew it was. He had, for example, let the girls’ governess go for her holiday earlier than usual, and for a longer time, leaving Eliza unexpectedly with the two girls on her hands. That Miss Stevenson would have been going on holiday soon hardly mollified her; it was her responsibility, and he had usurped it. He had sent for a builder to deal with the dry rot in the old section of the house, something Eliza would have done had not his return distracted her, and he had even spoken to Sir Peter about Delia’s budding romance. That had embarrassed Delia and infuriated Eliza, and so she had confronted him.

  When faced with her anger and frustration, though, Robert’s reaction had been bafflement. Was he not relieving her of work she shouldn’t have to do? And did it really matter who saw to such things, so long as they were done? In the face of such reasonableness Eliza fumed in helpless, impotent silence. When all was said and done, he was the marquess. The estate and all who lived on it were his responsibility, not hers. At least for as long as he intended to stay.

  For that was the real problem. She had grown accustomed to her husband’s brief visits home, though never had she liked them. The fact that this time he made no mention of going disconcerted her. For so long now her life had been orderly and predictable, and that was how she liked it. The pain of separation was manageable that way. If she knew when Robert planned to leave she’d be hurt, but she could live with it. Certainly it would be easier to deal with than this dreadful uncertainty. Someday he would go, and it would hurt the worse for her not having been prepared. And, worst of all, he had yet to mention the new baby.

  “Well.” Robert’s voice at the door of the drawing room distracted her. It was late morning, and apparently he had finished his work for the day. Briefly she wondered what he had done today that would ordinarily have been her task, and then dismissed the thought. Resenting his interference did no good. Soon he would be gone, and the responsibility would be all hers again. Lonely responsibility.

  “Yes?” she answered, smiling, and looked up. Their gazes caught, holding them fast in a bond that was almost tangible in the hushed stillness of the room. In that moment she realized she could cope with anything, if only he would stay.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Writing letters.” She looked down at her desk without seeing it. He wouldn’t stay. That, she had best accustom herself to. “You’re done early today.”

  “Not much to do.” He crossed the room to sit in a chair near her, his legs stretched out. “You seem to be busy.”

  Eliza sealed the last envelope with a wafer and rose from her desk. “Will you frank these for me? I’m writing to employment agencies in London. We’ll need a new teacher for the school in the village.”

  “Yes, I know, the vicar told me after church last week. Give me those and I�
��ll take care of them for you.” He reached across for the envelopes and their fingers touched, tip to tip. Again their gazes caught, and then Eliza pulled back. “Where are the girls?”

  “Outside, in the garden.” Eliza went to sit on the sofa facing him. “Robert, Michael Slocum rode over to see Delia. You won’t make a fuss, will you?”

  “I?” He looked innocent. “Why should I?”

  She gave him a speaking look. “Don’t you realize how embarrassed Delia was when you spoke to Sir Peter?”

  He shrugged. “She’s my daughter. I would be remiss in my duty if I didn’t take care of her.”

  “When you’re here,” she retorted.

  His eyes grew opaque. “As you say,” he said, after a moment. “When I’m here.”

  Eliza turned away, biting her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that. Things were going so well between them that she tried to avoid any mention of their circumstances. Their time together was so brief; what good was it to indulge in recriminations for something that couldn’t be helped? “I’m sorry, Robert. I know you mean well.”

  “Damning with faint praise, Eliza.”

  “Well, do you expect me to be happy with the way things are?” she burst out.

  “No.” His voice was quiet. “I expect you to consider your husband’s wishes.”

  Again she looked away. However had they got onto this topic? “It does no good to argue this. I am sorry, Robert. I know you care about the girls.”

  “Of course I do. You needn’t be jealous about it.”

  Eliza’s head whipped around. “Jealous! Of all the absurd things—”

  “Aren’t you?” He gazed steadily at her. “Don’t you wish to keep them to yourself?”

  “No!” Of all the tangled emotions she had felt during his stay, jealousy was certainly not one of them. “I’m glad you’re spending time with them, Robert. I only wish you could be with them more.”