‘Can you thank her? Can you tell her I will always be grateful for her thoughtfulness?’
Amethyst smiled. ‘I shall make certain to give her your message, but she also sent one for you alone. I was to tell you that the oil she gifted you for fertility was proving a most excellent success and that there had been a record number of twins born in the surrounds of the Wesley estate this year.’
Sephora laughed at this confidence and beneath the walls of Colmeade amongst the scented walkways of an ancient garden she felt a peace that she never had before. This was her home and she was happy.
‘I am so glad Francis found you, Sephora. Has he shown you the view here from the parapets yet? No. Well it is more than wonderful although he has never come back here enough.’
‘He said as a child he felt a nuisance. Perhaps that is the reason?’
‘His sister died at Colmeade House. Did you know that?’
She hadn’t because he’d never told her, and Sephora thought with a heavy heart that everything she had found out about Francis St Cartmail was from someone else relating another awful past tragedy. She wanted to hear the truth from him, what he had felt, how he had managed. She wanted to hold him safe and tell him that she would always be there for him, by his side, and that he was her world and her anchor. All the words she had forbade him to use were sitting on her tongue as she looked towards the house in the hope that she might see him at the window of his library.
The Montcliffes stayed for an early dinner and then they left. Francis looked more relaxed than he had all day and Sephora reasoned he must be making progress with the matter of the smugglers.
Mindful of Amethyst’s description of the view from the parapets she asked him to take her up there and a quarter of an hour later they were standing behind a low-slung wall on the very roof of the place, looking over a view that went on forever.
* * *
‘My father used to come here for hours,’ Francis said after a moment or two of watching Sephora at his side take in the majesty. ‘He said this vista gave him the space to think and he would bring all his major problems up here to solve them.’
‘Did your sister like it here, too?’
‘Sarah?’ The familiar anger at her loss welled from nowhere and he shook his head. ‘No. She didn’t like heights. My mother was the same.’
‘Amethyst spoke to me of her today. How did she die?’
Her question was quiet but direct and instead of turning the personal away he loosened the stock at his throat and pointed to a thin line of grey a good mile away. ‘See that river. It was winter and she had come home for a weekend with my aunt. After the rains the banks around it were swollen and she fell into it...’
He heard her take in a breath, and saw the grief and anguish in her eyes as she spoke.
‘Like me? But no one saved her?’
‘She was alone. Some people...believe she jumped.’
A small hand threaded through his, holding on tight. ‘I don’t believe that. If it helps at all I don’t think Sarah would have thrown her life away. After all she was your sister, with the blood of the Douglases running through her. Strong blood. Unafraid and brave.’
He smiled at her fervent reply and took in a breath.
‘I hope that was the case. I hope the soil just gave way as she was walking. I hope hers was a quick death.’ He could imagine her alongside the river, watching the water and thinking. She’d have picked up small bits of flowering plants and old pieces of wood because he could long remember her doing so each time she had taken him with her. ‘Perhaps girls need their mothers more, too. Like Anna. Without a guiding hand they might feel...’
‘No. You were there and there was still Colmeade House. If she came here it meant that she loved it and perhaps a part of that was that she loved the outdoors. I think it was an accident and there was no one there to save her. Is her death the reason you dived in after me?’
He smiled and looked down at her, her blue eyes tearful and a worry in them that broke his heart.
‘I jumped because I knew I had to, Sephora.’ He saw her frown, but he knew suddenly that what he said was true. His father had come here to solve his problems all those years before and here he was trying to understand his own.
She believed in him even though many others didn’t. She took his fears and put an interpretation on them that was believable and honest, words that made his heart whole piece by piece until his breath came easier. He could talk with her as he had never talked with anyone before.
Bringing her into him he turned her to the view and as the sun went down across the far hills they watched the majesty of it together in silence.
A little while later he spoke again. ‘Today I have whittled those involved in the smuggling ring down to only two names. Tomorrow I will leave for London to confront them both.’
‘It sounds dangerous?’
He laughed. ‘Men of this ilk are always cowards and I have enough skill with a pistol and my hands to easily overcome them if they offer resistance. Besides, I want the chance at vengeance, for what he did to Anna and to us.’
He bent to her neck and kissed the soft sensitive parts with his lips and tongue. She tasted of freshness, soap and violets and when she tried to speak again he simply placed a finger across her lips.
‘Make love to me here, Sephora, on the top of the world under the night sky. Just us. Without any other worries. Please.’
‘Yes.’ Her whisper was firm and he lifted her skirts and came in from behind, the warmth of her enveloping him, taking him in.
* * *
The cries were there again, not piercing screams as they had been once before but softer. From his chair by the window in his bedchamber Francis could see Sephora stir, but as he was awake he pulled on some clothes and walked down to Anna’s room.
Her chamber was full of light when he came into it, three candles glowing on her bedside table. His cousin was not in bed but sitting on the very end of it.
‘I heard you crying.’
Her face was puffy and red as she looked up at him. ‘I...am sorry if I woke you up.’
‘You didn’t. I never sleep well.’ He felt at a loss as to what to say next, but Anna helped him.
‘Sephora said that you lost your parents when you were young. Did you ever feel afraid because of it?’
‘Not afraid exactly. More angry, I suppose.’
‘But you loved them?’ She waited till he nodded before going on. ‘My mother was hardly ever home, but Clive...was nice sometimes.’ Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped at them with the edge of her nightgown. ‘I see things.’ This was said very quietly, each word enunciated with an exaggerated slowness.
‘What sort of things?’
‘I saw Clive when he was killed. He had the money in a bag and he had taken it. A man wanted it back.’
‘Where were you when this was happening?’ Francis tried to keep the tone of his voice soft, but the fear he could see on her face and hear in her words was worrying.
‘Hiding under the hay. Clive told me to stay there and not come out, no matter what.’
‘Did you see him? Did you see the man who killed Clive?’
‘Just for a moment. He was tall. Clive thought he was a friend, I think, and they talked for a while, but so quietly I couldn’t hear what they said.’
‘And after?’
‘The man left and I stayed hidden for a long time. When it was dark I came out and there was blood...everywhere...and I ran home. The gold was gone and I think he might try to take me away again. I think he wants to kill me, too.’
‘I will never let him. I promise you, Anna. You are safe here. To get to you he will have to go through me first and now I know exactly who he is I can find him.’
Her chin began to wobble and she threw herself into his arms, a wet and soft little girl clinging as though her life depended on it.
He’d never been so close to a child before save for Seth’s twins, but they were babies and the sobs racking through her made him grit his teeth. Her father had disowned her, her mother had seldom been around and Clive had used her foolishly in order to gain his financial rewards. No adult around her in all her life had been stable and good and true. But he would be. He and Sephora. His arm came around her back and he let her cry until she was finished, the front of his shirt soaked.
Across the room the old dog was yawning and stretching. ‘I think Hopeful is tired and wants to go to sleep. Do you think you can now?’
Anna nodded. ‘I like it here. I like my room and I like the books and the wardrobe and the attic at the top of the house. I like my name too. Anna St Cartmail. It means I belong.’
‘Good, because this will always be your home.’
‘And the man who tried to get me in the city...’
‘Will never be able to try again.’ As he said this Francis thought there would be a lot more at stake than just the words, but the explanation seemed to give Anna comfort because she scrambled back into bed.
Tucking the sheet up about her chin he bent to kiss her on the forehead. Like his mother used to do to him, he thought, though it had been a long time since he had remembered that.
‘Can I blow out the candles now?’ He asked her before he left and was pleased when she nodded.
A moment later he was back in his own bedroom. Sephora was sitting on the chair he had been using.