As Raveneau talked to Mr. Farnsworth, he learned that the man was newly married and had a child on the way. He was afraid that, if he died, his many feuding relatives would lay claim to his property, and he wanted to be certain that a legal will was drawn up.
This sort of task was child’s play for Raveneau, but it felt good to have a real client. There had to be a beginning, and today was it.
After luncheon at the Ice House, there were two more appointments in the afternoon. One was a prosperous ship owner named Asa Forester who needed a solicitor to draw up documents for a series of future projects. Near the end of the long appointment, Forester confided that he had planned to interview other lawyers, but he was so impressed with Raveneau that he would look no further.
By the time he made the long ride home to Tempest Hall, the sun had nearly set. Cantering down the lane lined with hedges of sweet lime, Adam knew an unexpected sense of contentment when he saw the manor house come into view. Green monkeys capered in and out of the mahogany forest, and the wood doves made their last soft calls of the day.
There were lights in the windows of the manor house, and enticing spicy smells drifted out on the breeze. As Adam continued toward the stables, Simon emerged from the house holding Paul’s hand. Alice came behind them, limping slightly.
“Papa!” cried the little boy.
At the sight of his son running toward him on stocky little legs, Adam drew back on the reins. Reaching down, he scooped Paul up and held him close with one arm. “How’s my little monkey?”
Laughing, Paul revealed the tattered stuffed toy he’d been clutching against his tummy. “Monkey. Ooh-ah!” Then, pointing to Lazarus’s proud head, he cried, “Him a horse!”
Smiling, Adam looked into his eyes, and something sweet and inexpressible passed through him. He handed the reins to Simon and dismounted, then stood for a long moment, cuddling Paul closer, his rough cheek turned against a headful of soft baby curls.
If only Cathy were there! He longed to hold her in his arms and share all the news of his day over a leisurely meal. For a moment, Adam imagined her as she had been in the past, waiting for him under the sandbox tree when he’d ridden up after an absence. The memory of her hesitant smile and fresh, unembellished beauty sent a stinging pain through his heart.
Where the devil had he gone all those days he’d been away from Tempest Hall? What had ever possessed him to leave when she had been here? Her presence had been like a soft, warm light, spreading over the house, the gardens, and all the people who lived and worked here. Only he had been stubborn enough to attempt resistance.
“Little one, are you aware that your father is a fool?” he murmured as he started toward the house, the child still safe in his arms. Alice came to meet them, and Adam bent to pet her. “This old girl already knows I’m a fool. If you could talk, you would have warned me that I was going to lose her, wouldn’t you?” It was then that he noticed something protruding from one side of her mouth. “What’s this?”
The Labrador cocked her head at her master. Her brown eyes spoke volumes, and then she gave an eloquent sigh and released one of Cathy’s gardening gloves into Adam’s open hand.
“Oh, God. You’re killing me.” His eyes stung for a moment. “I should have put you in charge. Clearly you could do a better job managing my life than I have.”
“Sir,” came Retta’s voice from the kitchen steps. “Come inside now. I do make you a fine cou-cou for you supper.”
“It smells incredible. Where is Byron? I thought he would be watching Paul today.”
June poked her head out of the door, and the little boy broke into a big smile. “Mr. Matthews went to Bathsheba to paint. Little Paul has been with me today. We found some old toys in the nursery and made a beautiful block tower.”
Climbing the steps to the kitchen, Adam set his son down and watched him go to June and cling to her skirt. “I should have remembered those toys. I played with them myself when I was young.” He paused at the hot stove and dipped a spoon into the mixture of cornmeal and okra, stealing a taste. “Ah, Retta, it’s perfect! Not a lump in the entire pan.”
“Lump?” she repeated, incredulous that he would even speak the word. “No, sir! An’ mind yo’ hand outa my way.”
“But where is Josephine? Shouldn’t she be doing the cooking?”
June replied, “She says that there isn’t enough work for her here now, so she went to visit her auntie in Speightstown. I think only the mistress could deal with Josephine’s tempers.”
“Couldn’t everything just go smoothly for a few days at a time?” He shook his head. “I can’t think about all this right now. I’m going to wash up and eat, and maybe then I’ll have a clearer head.”
Retta glanced at him through narrowed eyes as he went toward the door. “Not easy fo’ man to do all t’ing alone. Dis house do miss... someone.”
“Do you think I don’t know it?” Adam had to duck to go through the low doorway. Outside again, he took a deep breath.
Next to him, a soft voice encouraged, “You can do it, sir.”
Glancing down, he saw that June had followed him, holding Paul’s tiny hand. “Yes. I intend to,” he replied with a grim smile. As the trio walked toward the main house, he had another thought. “June, you shouldn’t be here taking care of Paul; you are supposed to be in school during the week!”
A shadow crossed her face, and she looked down. “My teacher died. “
“I’m sorry to hear that. How many students are in your class?”
“Twelve girls. We have no school until a teacher can be found, and very few want to teach young girls like us.”
“We’ll have to find a solution to this problem.”
“Is it possible, my lord?”
His only response was a dashing smile that caused her to stand up taller and take hope.
After dinner, Adam bathed Paul, then sat with him in Cathy’s rocker and told him a story, this one about a frog named Paulywog who wore a coat and learned to fasten the buttons all by himself. The last thing the little boy did before falling asleep was touch the front of his nightshirt and mumble, “Paul’s but-ton.”
Together they rocked in the candlelit silence. Adam looked down to see his son’s little hand splayed trustingly on the hard curve of his shoulder, clinging to the fine linen of his shirt. A fleeting memory came to him of similar moments on the lap of his own father, but he had learned long ago how to turn his thoughts away from such painful images. Gathering up his son, he stood up.
So far, Paul had rebelled each night against sleeping alone in his crib, and each night his father had relented and brought him into his bed. This time, he gently lay him in the crib, tucked Ooh-Ah near, and put out the candle that guttered low beside the rocker. He longed for nothing more than to climb into bed himself and sleep deeply until morning, but he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since Cathy left... and there was too much work to be done.
Without making a sound, Adam carried an oil lamp into the dressing room, uncovered the hidden panel, and brought out his grandfather’s log books and his grandmother’s keepsakes. He brought all of it back to his desk and began to look through them with a much altered attitude than he’d had the last time.
This time, when he studied the map, he saw clues that seemed to fit together with the documents in the carved box at his law office. There were very faint numbers: 3, 2, and 4, written in flowing script alongside the dotted lines that led between a series of three X’s, one of them with an “R” beside it. Adam reached for his coat, draped negligently across the bottom of the bed, and found the paper that he’d had the foresight to bring with him.
Unfolding it, he held it nearer the lamp and read: “R ~ 3... 7 X 2... 3 X 4... 9 XX.” He looked back to the map again. The first numbers in the sequences were the same, and in one place, instead of one X, there were two! His heart began to pound as he recalled the paper in the box at the law office. Could it be a code?
Out of the corner of his eye, Raveneau noticed that Alice was creeping up the bed steps to snuggle into her place on Cathy’s side of the bed. She froze for a moment, glancing his way, but he pretended not to see her. Now that he was alone, he found that he was grateful for the persistent love of a tiny child and a dog. It was a long way from the life he’d led in London, gambling and wenching to his heart’s content, seemingly unaware that he deeply needed more. Sometimes at night when he held Paul and they rocked together in the silence, his heart would swell and it would come to him how lonely he’d been he’d been since his boyhood. It was pain he’d never wanted to feel again.
Only now did Raveneau pour himself a small glass of brandy and prop his feet up on a cane stool. He sipped once, twice, then finally took his grandmother’s letter in his hands. When he’d read it in Cathy’s presence, he’d erected a barrier around his heart. This time was different.
Dearest Adam,
I am writing this letter and putting away these secret treasures against the day you will need them, when I trust you will discover this box and all it contains. I ask you to open your heart and your mind, pretending that I am there with you, talking on the verandah as we have done so often.