Chapter Fourteen

Tempest

Kicking their frightened horses onward, Ben and Andrew reached the village of Mystic just as the hurricane began reeling over them with the fury of a savage beast. They slapped the horses on the rump to shoo them into the small barn behind Rosalie’s house. Pinto Pony was leaning against the outside wall of the barn with his eyes rolling in terror, so they pushed him inside as well. They ran to the house to ensure that Willa was safe and found her huddled in the back room of the shop with no light except the feeble rays of one candle.

“Dr. Garrick!” she cried as the two men burst into the room.

“Willa, we have only a moment! Stay here until the storm is over; this is probably the safest part of the house.”

“Where are you going? Are you not staying here with me?”

Ben hesitated, but it was best if she knew the truth of the situation. “The Gremlin has not returned. We’re taking the Thistle out to try to find James and the crew.”

Willa gasped.

Ben took her hand. “Be brave. Your friends are safe at the farm, and we will do everything in our power to find James.”

Willa nodded, and the two men ran out the door, shouting to each other to be heard over the wind. They fought their way to the pier. The incoming tide had pushed up the river and inundated the wooden walkway, but the Thistle was riding high, tossing back and forth like a child on a swing. Ben jumped aboard and began to hoist the mainsail, while Andrew yanked the mooring lines from the dock cleats and leapt onto the stern. The ship was jerked away from the pier by a savage gust of wind and then a wave slammed her back, throwing Ben to the deck.

“Let the main go slack!” Andrew shouted. “The wind’s from landward! We can sail out with the jib!”

Ben clung to the mast with one hand and adjusted the halyard with the other. Andrew scrambled to the tiller and dragged it over. With creaks that sounded like screams, the ship tore away from the pier.

Once they reached the river channel, they hoisted the mainsail. The wind carried them rapidly toward the sea despite the storm-swollen tide attempting to push the Thistle upriver. The ketch heeled to starboard as they skimmed like a gull over the rolling water. Andrew wrapped himself around the tiller to hold it steady, while Ben hiked out on the port side.

At the mouth of the river, the ship was lifted and jolted by the mountainous waves in the sound.

“Get the mains’l down!” Andrew shouted. The tiller was torn from his grip, and the ship spun like a top. Ben charged to starboard as she heeled to port, while Andrew frantically uncleated the main halyard and tore down the mainsail. With the sail down, the ketch tossed on the waves like a cork but did not take on water. The two men clung to the mainmast and attempted to communicate over the roar of the wind and water. Thunder rumbled and lightning streaked the sky. A blast of hail suddenly lambasted them, freezing their hands and face.

“We’ve got to reef the mains’l!” Andrew called. “Let’s get the jib down!”

Ben nodded. He took down the jib, and the two men fought against the wind and hail to fold back part of the mainsail and fasten it with grommets.

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to go below and wait it out!” Ben shouted. They both knew they were facing extreme danger. If the Thistle broke apart, they were doomed.

Pitch dark was now upon them as they began to hoist the reefed mainsail. Ben breathed a silent prayer and took a last look out at the sea. He blinked and looked again.

“Reed, hold the halyard! There’s a light out there!”

Andrew peered into the storm and saw a light flickering far out in the sound. He shivered, for he had seen such a light before.

“What is it?” cried Ben.

“A ship!” Andrew shouted. “A ship that’s been struck by lightning!”

“Dear God!” Ben cried. The Gremlin was burning! Somehow they must reach her!

“Hoist up!” Ben shouted. He stumbled to the tiller and held on, while Andrew cleated the halyard. When the wind hit the reefed mainsail, the ketch surged forward like a leaping leopard, but the sail held. Ben threw his body around the tiller, and they headed seaward.

As they surged onward, guided by the flickering light from the burning ship, the wind began to lessen.

“The eye of the hurricane!” Andrew shouted. “We have a bit of grace to save them, but only a bit. When the wind changes, we’ll need to tack.”

“Shake out the reef!” Ben replied. “We can’t tack in this sea!”

As they neared the burning ship, the light from the fire showed them James and the crew launching a dinghy and leaping into it. The sinking ship created a vacuum that sucked the dinghy toward it, as the men rowed for their lives.

“Ahoy! Ahoy!” Ben and Andrew screamed, but whether they were heard, they could not tell. The dinghy kept disappearing behind the waves as Ben fought the tiller to try to reach them without risking a collision that would capsize the dinghy.

A huge wave rose out of the sea like a monster from hell. It towered over the mast of the Thistle and lifted the dinghy straight up. Ben shouted and jumped away as the boat was thrust nearly onto the deck of the Thistle. Then the wave rolled on, and the dinghy fell into a roiling trough of black water. It blew apart like a dropped watermelon. The men screamed as they were thrown into the surging sea.

Andrew seized the tiller. Ben threw out a line and shouted for the men to seize it. The illumination from the burning Gremlin was gone, but the thunder and lightning continued. One moment the sky was alight and Ben could see men in the water trying to reach the lifeline, and the next it was pitch black and he could only stare outward in blind helplessness.

Ben felt a sharp tug on the rope. “Hold on!” he screamed into the dark. He dragged on the line as the Thistle leapt and tossed on the waves. A bolt of lightning showed him the lad Micah Gray clinging to the rope as he was pulled up.

“Micah, hold on!” Ben shouted. Andrew staggered to the port side to help, and they seized Micah and threw him to the deck.

Ben and Andrew had not a moment to assist Micah, and the boy lay on the deck gasping for breath. Ben threw the line back out, ignoring his raw and bleeding hands. He shouted until he was hoarse. Finally, a flash of lightning showed two men reaching the rope. First mate Linus Briggs was next dragged aboard and then, to Ben’s relief, James Scott. The crewmen lay shaking on the deck as Ben and Andrew hoisted the mainsail.

The wind began to increase; the eye of the storm had passed. The hull of the Thistle screeched as it was battered and rammed. The waves lifted and dropped her, lifted and dropped her, until Ben was sure she would break apart at any second.

The lightning was their only hope to reach shore, for they had no stars to guide them. At every streak of light, the men sighted the shoreline and Andrew at the tiller reoriented the ketch. They had no idea where they would land for they had been blown far from the mouth of the river, but they headed landward, praying to avoid a rocky shore that would break up the hull.

****

Willa’s head jerked up, and she realized she had fallen asleep and been dreaming. In her dream, she had been running but could not escape, and she shook her head to clear away the terror such dreams leave behind. The howling wind rattled the windows and doors of the Book & Candle. A crash from upstairs made Willa cry out and huddle against the wall of the little room.

The front door of the shop began to bang, and she cried out again. Gradually, she became aware someone was struggling to open it. Relieved, she ran to the door and pushed it to assist the person who was pulling from the outside. The wind caught the door and yanked it from both their hands, but the visitor stumbled into the shop. Willa gasped; it was the Duke of Simsbury.

“Miss McCrea! I could not rest until I assured myself that you were safe!”

“Oh!” cried Willa, “I’m so very glad to see you! I’m all alone, and the storm is so frightening!”

She burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.

****

At the farm, Elena had also fallen asleep. She was on a sofa with a schoolgirl cuddled on either side of her. The two girls were asleep, and the others were sleeping on the floor, covered in quilts and blankets.

Megan was in the kitchen with Mrs. Croaker, drinking coffee in an effort to stay awake. She felt exhausted in mind and body, but it would be unforgivable for her to drift into sleep with her brother facing the terrible danger of the sea. And James Scott! What of poor James Scott, who had screwed up his courage the night before and asked her if he could court her. She had had no inkling of his feelings, and the thought of Willa’s broken heart distressed her so greatly, it drowned out any other emotion. She glanced at Mrs. Croaker, who dozed in her chair by the fire. Megan pulled in a shuddering breath; sleep would be an escape from all her cares. She leaned back and shut her eyes, but at that moment Rosalie entered the kitchen.

“Megan, you should lie down on the other settee and sleep a bit. I’ll wake you in a few hours or earlier if there is any news.”

“What of you, Miss Murdoch? Could you not sleep a bit?”

“No, I’m not tired; my nerves are all a-jangle. Bramble does not share my anxiety; he’s sprawled on the floor among the schoolgirls.”

Megan attempted a smile. “Bramble is wise. We’ll all need energy and strength in the morning, come what may.”

Rosalie nodded. “Go rest, Megan. Be wise like the wolf.”

Megan took her advice and settled on the other sofa in the parlor. She became aware that the sound of the wind was diminishing, and at first her heart leapt with hope that the storm was over. Then she realized the eye of the hurricane was above them. As she drifted into sleep, she imagined a great eye looking down at all the tiny human beings in their frail wooden houses, and she wondered what the great eye saw as it looked out to sea.

****

The Duke of Simsbury felt a thrill he would have believed himself too jaded to be capable of as the girl he had desired for months was suddenly in his arms and clinging to him with all her strength. Her slender body actually pressed against his, and she felt as fragile in his arms as a reed swaying in the wind. He held her as hard as he dared, feeling her small high bosom against his chest and her dark hair all a-tumble on his shoulder.

Unable to help himself, he risked kissing the top of her head. When she did not stir, he let his lips slide to her neck. He caressed one delicate ear with the tip of his tongue, and she shivered but did not pull away. She was hungry for love, and he would never have a better opportunity.

“Come,” he whispered. He led her into the little room at the back of the shop, following the dim candlelight. The room contained two cots and a straight chair. He led her to a cot and bade her lie down. “You’re not alone,” he said. “I’ll stay and watch over you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She lay on the cot, and he sat on the chair next to her. In a few moments, he gently took her hand and caressed it. His caresses gradually went higher until she shivered as his hands drifted over her shoulders and neck. He eased himself off the chair and knelt next to the cot. She sighed as he kissed her hand and arm. She turned toward him with an expression of longing, and he sat on the edge of the cot and kissed her lips.

Willa felt a surge of passion as she received her first kiss, but her thoughts flew to James Scott. She had once imagined her first kiss would be with him, but in the last few months, she had come to realize that he loved another. Because she had always observed him closely when they were together, she had seen what no one else had seen: he loved Megan Garrick.

This had been a cure for her own lovesickness because she could not imagine any man looking at her after loving Megan Garrick. For a time, she had felt lonely and sad, but she was always cheered by the attentions of the Duke of Simsbury. Although everyone considered him to be a flirt determined to break her heart, he at least was a man—an important man—who admired her.

And now he was sitting in the dark with her, kissing her—which felt wonderful—and caressing her, which felt even more wonderful. She did not want him to stop; whatever the consequences, she did not want him to stop.

Willa felt her breathing quicken as the duke continued stroking and kissing her for several minutes before lying on the bed next to her. She stiffened with fear as his body slid against hers, but she did not repulse him. She did not want him to go away and leave her alone in the storm.

“Willa,” he whispered, “I love you. I’ve been afraid to tell you for fear you would laugh at me.”

She sat up and looked at him. His face was in shadow, but she could see the longing in his eyes as they gazed at her. “Laugh at you! No, I could not laugh at you, but…why do you love me? You could have anyone.”

He kissed her again. “You are the woman I want, the only woman I could ever desire as a wife.”

“As a wife? You want me as a wife?”

Again, he kissed her. “Of course I do. I’ve been courting you for months. Say one word, Willa, say yes.”

Willa was silent with shock and agitation. If she said yes, then she must marry him. Did she want to marry him? And then…what if she said yes and he was not serious and withdrew his offer the next day? But if she said no, he would leave her, and she did not want him to leave her. She felt protected in a way she had never felt before.

But she was a shopgirl! Why would an English duke want to marry her? He must not be serious!

She attempted to be wise and pushed away the hand stroking her arm. “I may not be a sophisticated woman as one finds in cities,” she said, “but I’m not so foolish as to believe an English nobleman wants to marry me.”

The duke slid off the cot and knelt on the floor. “Miss Willa McCrea, I hereby beg for your hand in marriage. There, does that satisfy you that I’m serious?”

“But everyone says you make a habit of breaking girls’ hearts. How can I believe you?”

The duke sat on the edge of the cot and took her in his arms. Willa melted against him as he kissed her deeply. She allowed him to push her down and kiss her neck and shoulders. Her breath surged with passion as he stroked her body, lower and lower.

“I am going to make love to you,” he murmured. “I am going to give you pleasure such as you have never known.”

“Oh!” Willa gasped. “No, you mustn’t!” But she did not push him away.

His hand lightly stroked the wildly pulsing area below her belly, and at that moment she was lost. She felt her thighs part as though they had a will of their own. “Oh…oh…” she cried as the gently stroking hand slid under her dress and caressed her most intimate places.

“Willa,” he whispered, “say yes, and tomorrow we’ll go to Reverend Ries and be wed.”

“Yes,” she whispered, gasping at the pleasure his hand was giving her. “Yes, yes, yes.”

****

Rosalie had dozed for a few minutes just before morning, but Bramble bumped his head against her leg and awoke her. “What is it, Bramble? Is someone coming?”

Bramble ran to the door, and Rosalie followed. She opened the door a crack and peered through, gasping as the early dawn light showed her a world gone wildly awry. Two great oak trees had snapped like matchsticks and lay across the lane. Wooden shingles, branches, and other debris littered the farmyard, and several barn boards lay among the torn and mangled rose bushes.

Bramble attempted to get through the door, and Rosalie let him out. The wind had died but still puffed in spurts like an angry child. She shaded her eyes and gazed toward the sea. Where there once had been meadows, a great expanse of sea water spread.

She became aware of movement; someone was trying to make his way around the fallen trees. She ran outside and in seconds was in the arms of Andrew Reed. His clothes were torn and his hands and face were bleeding, but he seized her as though she were the elixir of life. She held him, caring nothing for the spying eyes of the schoolgirls—at that moment caring for nothing in the world except this one man.

“Andrew, Andrew,” was all she could say as she held him.

Andrew pressed her hard against him and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Rosalie, my dearest Rosalie, I could stand like this with you forever and die happy in your arms, but I must not. I have not a moment to lose.”

Rosalie felt she would perish if she had to release him, but she did release him and looked directly into his face. “Andrew, tell me. Ben? James?”

“We were able to find James and the crew. They are ashore about two miles down the coast from here.”

“And Ben?”

He sighed and shook his head. “As we made for shore, we were thrown about by the waves and tide. The Thistle’s hull was still sound, but as we started to take down the mains’l so she wouldn’t broach, the stern slid to port and the boom swung across. It hit Garrick and flung him into the sea.”

“No! Oh Andrew, no!”

“The ship was pitching back and forth and dropping up and down. When the boom started swinging, the mainmast snapped and shattered the hull as it went down. The night was still dark as pitch, but we launched the dinghy and began to row. We shouted for Ben until we couldn’t shout anymore. We didn’t know where we were or which way to head until a few streaks of dawn showed us an outline of the shore. But we stayed offshore searching for him until we were too exhausted to do anything but row in.”

Rosalie sobbed, but Andrew did not hold her. “Rosalie, listen to me. The tide was still coming in when Ben was knocked into the water. There’s a hope, a small hope, it washed him ashore. We landed in a rocky cove, and though we searched on land for him and found nothing, we knew he could have been well hidden among the boulders along the shore. He could be unconscious—or dead—and either way, we must find him.”

Rosalie scrubbed at her tear-streaked face and attempted to be calm. “Bramble. You came for Bramble.”

“Yes. James and the crew stayed in the cove to keep searching, but I came here to seek help, the kind of help only a dog, or a wolf, could give. Bramble could find Ben by scent if indeed he is somewhere in that godforsaken stretch of coast.”

“Yes! Yes, he could!”

“I’m going to saddle whatever horses are in your barn. Perhaps you’d better inform the others, as terrible as that will be. His sister and his fiancée—dear God!”

They parted. Rosalie ran inside and woke Megan and Elena. Barely able to keep from crying herself, she told them what had happened. After the first shock, they both declared they would go with her and help with the search.

“You cannot,” stated Rosalie. “As much as it hurts me to say that, you cannot. We have only two horses available. I must ride one of them, for Bramble won’t go without me.”

“Tell us what direction you’ll be heading,” Megan demanded, fighting to stay calm. “I’ll go to my brother’s farm and fetch his plow horse. She can carry Elena and me together.”

“We’re going south along the path by the sea. Andrew said the cove where they came ashore is about two miles from here.”

The schoolgirls and Mrs. Croaker began to awaken, and Rosalie hurried outside to avoid further delay. She ran to the barn and helped Andrew saddle, with Bramble trotting alongside. When the horses were ready, Rosalie called to the wolf, “Come, Bramble, we must find Ben!”

“Bramble, find Ben!” Andrew echoed. Bramble jumped about and emitted a brief howl, impatient to be off. They urged the horses on and cantered toward the sea.

****

Willa opened her eyes. It was early dawn, and the terrible wind of the night before was now silent. She shifted slightly, cramped on the tiny cot, and felt a body next to her. The events of the night before came back to her in a rush, and she gasped at the revelation.

He had deflowered her! Unwed, she had let a man have his way with her!

She felt sticky, and her next thought was of rising from the cot without waking the duke so she could wash herself thoroughly upstairs. She managed to climb over him and found her pantalettes lying next to the cot, along with his trousers and jacket.

The entire event came back to her in all its shameful details as she snatched up her undergarment and scampered upstairs. He had caressed her with his hand until she had experienced a sexual climax, and while she was in a vulnerable state in the seconds after it, he had thrust himself into her. It had hurt but not as badly as she’d heard.

Her body reacted to the memory. “Lord, I am wicked,” she whispered, “for heaven help me, I want to do it again!”

As she washed, arranged her hair, and selected a clean frock, she wondered what the duke would say when he awoke. Would he actually marry her, or would he laugh and stalk out the door?

A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “A fine dress for a wedding, Willa.” The duke walked into her chamber and took her in his arms before she could do anything but stare at him in shock.

He kissed her neck and made her shiver. “Last night,” he murmured, “was the most wonderful night of my life.”

Willa could say nothing, for his lips on her neck were inflaming her. “No!” she cried, as she summoned all her strength and pushed him away. “We were wicked last night, and we must not be wicked again!”

He smiled. “Yes, the wedding night came a bit early, but consider, my love; by tonight you will be the Duchess of Simsbury, and our lovemaking will be as innocent as the angels.”

“You still want to marry me?”

He looked at her seriously. “Yes, and last night you accepted me, so I hope you won’t break your promise.”

“But Your Grace—Good heavens, I don’t even know your name!”

“My name is Lionel Harding, Duke of Simsbury. You will be Her Grace, the Duchess of Simsbury.”

“But I don’t know anything about being a lady! A British lady, a duchess, good lord! What would your family and friends say? What would they think of me?”

She began to pace about the room, but he seized her by the shoulders. “Are you going to marry me, or are you not?”

She sucked in a breath so hard, she coughed. “Ye-yes, I will. I must.”

“Good. Then let us not worry over the future. It will take care of itself.”

He pulled her against him and whispered in her ear, “Do you remember last night when I was pleasuring you with my hand? Imagine how it will feel tonight when I do it with my tongue.”

Willa’s heart was hammering. Her young body, so long deprived of love and intimacy, reacted to his words, and she was humiliated to realize that she would marry him no matter what for the joy of once again being kissed and caressed.

“A man and woman can please each other in so many ways. I will teach you all of them,” he murmured.

He was breathing hard and holding her close, and Willa became aware that he wanted to start the lessons immediately. She attempted to step away, and after a moment’s hesitation, he let her go.

“You must promise me,” she said, amazed at her own boldness, “you will not do things—kissing and such—until we are wed.”

He smiled and nodded his compliance. “Very well, but for every hour I must wait, that will be one hour more that you will not be allowed to sleep tonight.”

Willa was distressed. “Don’t say such things to me, for I now know I’m a girl with wicked desires! A true lady wouldn’t feel as I do, would not want to—”

“A lady who does not desire the caresses of her husband could never make him happy,” he replied grinning. “But come, enough discussion. Let us go forth and awaken the Reverend Edward Ries.”

Willa nodded. She was excited and terrified, and still astounded he intended to marry her. Silently, she picked up her shawl, and together they made their way to the parsonage.

Reverend Ries’s curate was outside, sweeping storm debris off the walk. “The reverend’s gone to the country to see if the farmers need help,” declared the curate. “I don’t know when he’ll be back, sir.”

“Is there another minister nearby?”

“In North Stonington, about seven miles east. Reverend Wales is the man, and his parsonage is right near the village.”

The duke led Willa to the livery stable, and she was amazed and awed by her future husband’s status and the respect accorded him by others. He asked for a carriage and team, and a full equipage was immediately produced. The two horses were restive after the storm, and the duke asked for, and was given, a driver.

In a few minutes, they were trotting down the road to North Stonington, and when they returned four hours later, Willa was the Duchess of Simsbury.

****

Rosalie and Andrew rode as fast as they dared along the storm-littered trail, at one point jumping the horses over a fallen log. Sharp gusts of wind still gusted off the sea, and the weather had turned cold. Rosalie was grateful for her warm wool cape but concerned Andrew was still garbed in wet clothing and had no greatcoat. She would have gladly given him her cape, but she knew he would not accept it, so she said nothing.

When they reached the rocky cove, they immediately spied James Scott and his two crewmembers. They had managed to build a fire and were attempting to warm themselves and dry their clothing before resuming their search for Ben.

“Hallo!” called Andrew.

They all quickly reconnoitered and shared what little information they had. “We searched the whole cove,” declared James, whose face bore a look of sad hopelessness. “From the top of those rocks, we could see the boulder field continues quite some distance. We decided to rest a bit and wait for your return before going on.”

“Stay here,” said Rosalie. “I’ll go on with Bramble. If he finds…anything, I’ll shout for you.”

Andrew would have gone with her, but she could see that he was shaking with cold and exhaustion. “Stay here, Andrew. Whatever is to be found, Bramble will find it.”

He embraced her. “Take care on the rocks.”

“I will.”

Rosalie called Bramble and strode across the sand to the great mass of boulders that lined the cove. The huge rocks were piled on each other like blocks thrown by a child, but the sea and wind had rounded their edges so they were no threat to Bramble’s paws. He bounded up them, following Rosalie as she climbed. When they reached the highest point, the wolf looked up and sniffed the air. The wind blew his ruff as he stood utterly still, testing the scents blowing in from the sea.

Rosalie thought it likely that he could smell nothing but the salty sea air, and she called him to follow her. The climb down to the other side of the rocks was more difficult, and twice she had to reach for Bramble to prevent herself from falling.

“If only I had four legs too,” she told the wolf. Bramble waved his tail and jumped down onto the sand. Rosalie scrambled after him.

The beach was nothing more than a tiny swath of sand. As Rosalie scrutinized the area, she was chilled by the realization, if Ben lay unconscious somewhere nearby, he could have been drowned by the tide.

“If by some miracle he’s still alive,” she said aloud.

Rosalie sat on the sand and called Bramble to her. In the tiny space between the boulder piles, the wind could not reach them, and she hoped Bramble would be able to smell something besides salt. She put her arm about his neck.

“Bramble, my dear friend, this is very important. We must find Ben.” Bramble waved his tail.

Rosalie stood, and Bramble watched her. “Bramble, find Ben! Find Ben!”

Bramble knew the word Ben and looked about, wondering why Rosalie would say the word when Ben was not present. Perhaps the man was nearby, and if so, Bramble wanted to see him. Ben was one of his favorite pack members and had the added advantage of always being willing to scratch his tummy. Bramble sniffed the air. He could do with a good tummy scratch, he decided, and catching the tiniest hint of Ben’s scent, headed up the next pile of boulders.

Rosalie had no notion as to whether Bramble scented Ben or not. She could do nothing but hope, although the wolf might have decided to hunt crabs among the tidal pools or chase rabbits in the meadow far above. She followed as quickly as she could and, in a few minutes, stood at the high point of the next boulder field.

Bramble stood beside her and sniffed the air. He shook his head and rubbed his nose against his forelegs. He snorted out a great blast of air and put his head to the rock on which he stood.

“Bramble, find Ben!” Rosalie cried again, as the wolf began to make his way to a lower level of the stone pile. Sniffing low to the ground and moving back and forth across the rocks, he slowly descended. Rosalie scrambled after him, focusing on not falling. A howl rang out, and the surprise of the sound made her drop straight down into a sitting position. It was not Bramble who howled, she was sure of that. She could not see the wolf, and she quickly yanked up her dress and tied it at the waist, dropped onto her hands and knees, and moved down the rocks.

“I do have four paws,” she said aloud. Bramble’s tail waved like a flag just ahead. He had reached a tiny stretch of sand, but he had crawled so far into a hollow among the rocks, only his tail was visible.

The howl came again. It was a man! Rosalie staggered to her feet and tried to hurry but fell forward, scraping her face. She tumbled onto the sand and hit hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. She lay still and forced herself to breathe slowly.

The next howl was Bramble’s, as he tried to tell her that he had found Ben. Rosalie took the largest breath she dared to take and scrambled up. “Ben,” she gasped, “Ben!”

It took her no more than a minute to crawl among the rocks and find the wolf. Beyond him lay Ben, his body twisted against a boulder. He was conscious but had the stiff, wide-eyed appearance of shock. His eyes stared upward as she knelt beside him.

“Rosalie, is it you?”

“Hush, Ben, we’ll soon have you out of here.”

“No, no, leave me.”

“Leave you? Don’t be absurd! I’m not going to leave you!”

“Rosalie, let me die. I’m blind, Rosalie. Let me die.”

Rosalie sat back and stared at him. His eyes were wide open but he could not see her—he had recognized her voice when she called out! He had howled when Bramble found him because he didn’t know it was Bramble. How terrified he must have been when suddenly accosted by a large animal!

Brushing away tears, Rosalie attempted to quell her emotions. “Ben, I’m going to get help. Lie still, and I’ll be right back.”

“No, no.” He groaned, but she covered him with her cloak and climbed up the rocks.

By the time Rosalie had scrambled over the nearest boulder field, she saw several people coming toward her. They waved and hurried on as fast as the terrain would allow, and in a few seconds, she recognized them as Elena, Megan, Andrew, and James Scott.

“Did you find him?” Elena cried as they approached. Rosalie motioned them onward and turned back to lead them to Ben.

Megan and Elena had brought quilts, and although they wept copiously on finding Ben blind and injured, they controlled themselves well enough to help the men wrap him tightly. Andrew and James carried him over the boulders and set him gently on the beach.

“I brought the farm wagon!” said Megan. “It’s just beyond those trees. If you can carry him a bit farther, we can drive him to his own home and summon a physician.”

This was done. When Ben had been carefully deposited in his bed and the girls were caring for him, Rosalie built up the fire in the bedchamber recently vacated by the British scientists. She ordered Andrew and James to divest themselves of their wet clothing and go immediately to bed. They did not argue. She returned to Ben’s room and avoiding a direct look at Elena, said, “I’m going to ride to town and fetch Doctor Gibbs. Megan, will you ask Linus Briggs to drive himself and Micah home in your wagon? Their families will be frantic with worry.”

“Yes, certainly,” Megan replied.

“Pray give them quilts to wrap in and hot tea to drink.”

“Of course.”

Rosalie was soon off, and when she returned with the doctor, Ben had gone mercifully to sleep.

“If you will observe here,” Dr. Philip Gibbs said to the anxious, hovering women after he had thoroughly examined his patient, “you will see that he has a severe injury to the head. His body and limbs have no injuries, but he will be in pain for several days because the battering of the sea and lack of fresh water have caused all his muscles to cramp.”

“What about his eyes?” asked Megan with desperation in her voice.

“If you will let me finish, Miss Garrick…”

Megan nodded. She took Ben’s hand and held it, expecting to hear the worst.

“Dr. Garrick has a concussion. Do you see that swelling on his right temple? That is fluid collected from the bursting of blood vessels. The fluid is putting pressure all through his head, including the optic nerves. It’s also pressing on his sinuses, and he’ll have a headache for several days.” He turned to Rosalie. “Give him weak tea steeped with willow bark and yarrow every two hours. I’ll send laudanum for the pain.”

Rosalie agreed to abide by his instructions.

Gibbs continued, “If Dr. Garrick were blind on the right side only, I’d feel confident his sight in that eye would be restored when the swelling is gone. But the fact that both eyes are affected is worrisome. There may have been too much pressure for the nerves to recover from. In addition, as he lay among the rocks, he might have been staring into the sun without realizing it.”

Elena was out of patience. “Then what can be done? Surely something…”

Dr. Gibbs sighed again and picked up his bag. “We must wait. If he is able to regain some sight, it will come first to the left eye. Keep the drapes drawn in here. Don’t expose him to sunlight at all. You may burn a candle in this room so you have enough light to nurse him, provided the light is shaded so, if he begins to regain sight, his eyes won’t be exposed too rapidly.”

Rosalie saw the doctor to the door. When they were out of hearing of the others, she took his arm. “What are his chances to have sight again? I pray you, be candid with me.”

“With you, Miss Murdoch, certainly, but I did not want to give false hope to those young ladies. I honestly don’t know if he can regain his sight. It depends on several factors, as I explained. But he’s young and healthy, and if I understood what you told me earlier, he was found in the first light of dawn and in a shaded situation. If he had lain longer among the rocks and been in strong sunlight, I would say that he would be blind for life.”

Rosalie glanced at Bramble, who had followed her downstairs. “You, my dear Bramble, may perhaps have brought about a miracle by finding Ben before it was too late.”

Dr. Gibbs produced a rare smile as he glanced at the wolf. “All things considered, Miss Murdoch, my opinion is that Dr. Garrick will see again with his left eye. With the right eye…perhaps, perhaps not.”

Dr. Gibbs took his leave, promising to return later. Rosalie crept downstairs and settled her aching body in the parlor. Bramble curled beside her, and four hours passed before either awakened.

****

Elena dozed in a chair next to Ben’s bed. Megan had gone to her own room to rest, and Elena had promised to call her if Ben awakened, but she herself had fallen into a light sleep. She stirred in her chair; something was hurting her. She half woke and realized her head had fallen forward and her neck ached. She stood up, stretched, and walked about the room.

Ben moaned in his sleep, and she returned to the bedside. Looking down on him with tears in her eyes, she was astounded at the swelling of love for him that filled her heart. Nothing else mattered now. If Ben recovered and refused to marry her because she was a bastard child, it did not matter. Nothing could cause her real grief except his failure to recover.

She became wrapped in her own memories as she gazed at him. “I always did love him,” she said aloud, “perhaps from that first moment I met him when he admonished me so justly for my treatment of Willa.”

Elena sat on the side of the bed. She was tempted to lie down next to Ben and wrap her arms around him, but she knew she would fall asleep. She walked about the room again, trying to find some energy in herself that simply was not there. She felt sucked dry, as if the storm had taken more from her than she could bear.

The house was quiet. She wondered where Rosalie had gone, and then realized she was probably asleep. But a footstep on the stair made her heart jump; she was not looking forward to speaking with her aunt.

Rosalie appeared in the doorway. Bramble edged past her to greet Elena and investigate the man in the bed. Finding it was Ben, the wolf rose onto his hind legs and put his forepaws on the bed.

“No, no, Bramble, darling,” whispered Elena. She gently pulled on his ruff and Bramble dropped down. Ben did not stir.

Rosalie walked to the bedside and looked down at her friend. “The swelling on his head looks worse, do not you agree?”

“Yes,” Elena replied with a tone of hopelessness in her voice.

Rosalie turned to her. “Perhaps this is not the best time, Elena, but I must speak with you. Can you spare me a few minutes?”

Elena nodded and sat down abruptly in the chair next to the bed. “I’m exhausted, Aunt Rosalie.” She looked up at the woman standing before her and added, “But I cannot call you ‘aunt’ any longer, it seems.”

Elena rose again, for she knew she could not be discourteous enough to remain seated in the presence of Rosalie. She walked across the room and back again. Rosalie smoothed the covers on the bed and waited.

“I don’t know what to call you,” said Elena. “You’re not my aunt, but neither are you my mother, for you elected to give me away to be reared by your sister.”

Rosalie took a breath. She knew she must not argue or defend herself. “Perhaps you could simply call me ‘Rosalie.’ ”

“No, that does not suit me. In the strictest sense of the word, you are my mother.”

Rosalie busied herself brushing back Ben’s hair and applying a wet cloth to the swelling on his temple. If she said the wrong thing, Elena would fly from her like a sparrow from a hawk, so she said nothing until she had taken a few moments to think.

“Elena, your anger toward me is understandable. I can’t justify or excuse what I did. But do me the favor of carefully considering my next words.”

Elena nodded.

“When Andrew and I were courting, we were constantly under the watchful eyes of my parents. Being as fine a man as Andrew is, he would never have breached my father’s trust by attempting any assault upon my virtue.”

Elena turned away. “I’m not sure I want to hear these details.”

“I tell you only because I want you to understand that—how can I say this—we had no plan to behave in opposition to the principles we had been taught. An unusual set of circumstances—my father’s illness, the weather—caused us to be alone for an entire evening.”

“Aunt Rosalie, please…”

Rosalie shrugged. “We were very much in love and what happened, happened. I can’t regret it because the result was you, our beautiful, kind, clever daughter. How could I ever regret bringing you into the world?”

Elena burst into tears. She fell to the floor on her knees and buried her face in the bed quilt. Rosalie wanted to touch her and comfort her, but she remained aloof, allowing Elena to release her emotions.

“Do you want to know why I’m so angry?” Elena cried, trying to keep her voice low but finding it nearly impossible. “It’s because I had two parents who are the most wonderful people in the world, and I was deprived of them! You deprived me of them! Why did you not write to Andrew and tell him you were with child? You gave his daughter away without even telling him he had a daughter!”

Rosalie stared at her in shock. “That is not true! You’re forgetting, my love, that I had been told he was dead. I had no reason to doubt the information I received from Tom Hatten, and—”

Elena interrupted her. “But you should have doubted it! How could you have simply accepted the word of the man your own father had dismissed for wrongdoing?”

“I can’t refute your words, Elena. I have only these excuses: I was eighteen years old and very naïve. Also, I did not know what I know now, that Miriam paid Tom Hatten to send me that letter. I had already written to Andrew to tell him I was with child and beg for his return, but I received the letter from Hatten just a week or so after I had posted mine.”

Elena was instantly contrite at her own harsh words and accusations. “Did you? Then I must apologize for my outburst. I wronged you, and I’m sorry.”

“I have no doubt now,” continued Rosalie, “that Tom Hatten intercepted my letter to Andrew. The fact that I did not hear from Andrew or see him again confirmed what I had been told of his death.”

Elena turned away and once again began pacing the room. All the tragic circumstances of her birth could be attributed to one person: Miriam. Rosalie and Andrew had given in to their passion on one occasion—and they had been wrong to do so—but how could she excoriate them when she herself had shown insufficient strength of character to halt Ben’s lovemaking? He had been the strong one on that rainy afternoon when he proposed to her!

Elena took a breath and faced Rosalie. “I think it is right. Now that I understand the entire situation, I think it is right that I accept you as my mother. We have both been harmed by the machinations of Miriam, and although I addressed her as ‘Mother’ for twenty years, she had behaved, unknown to me, in such a way that she did not deserve to be anyone’s mother. She deprived me of the wonderful parents I should have had and did all she could to raise me as a shallow, insipid, selfish egotist, who would choose a husband not for his goodness, but for his social status and money.”

Rosalie’s face shone with happiness at Elena’s next words.

“Mother…I love you.”

“My dearest, most precious daughter!” Rosalie cried, pulling Elena into her arms. “Never a day or an hour or even a moment passed in which I did not think of you!”

As the two women embraced, they heard a slight noise from the doorway. Megan walked in, rubbing her eyes from sleep. “Has he awakened?”

Elena turned to the bed and gazed at the sleeping man. “No, he has not.”

“Dr. Gibbs should be here again soon,” said Rosalie.

Megan nodded. “Come downstairs and have tea and muffins. I’m sure your appetite is as small as mine at the moment, but we must eat something, all of us.”

Elena and Rosalie followed Megan to the kitchen. Just as they were finishing their small meal, Dr. Gibbs pulled up in his gig. The women followed him to Ben’s chamber and found Ben was just waking. Dr. Gibbs attempted to give him laudanum for his cramping muscles, but Ben refused.

“What difference does a little pain make, when I’m blind?”

Elena attempted to soothe him, but he jerked away from her caressing hand and turned his back on them all. “Leave me! Your pity makes my suffering worse.”

Dr. Gibbs waved a hand at the tearful women. “I would like to be alone with my patient.”

The women withdrew, and Dr. Gibbs settled in the chair next to Ben’s bed. “Mr. Garrick, I just attended a stillborn birth, treated various injuries on the farms, and pulled a rotten tooth from a screaming child. I have no further patience. It’s likely that sight will return in at least your left eye. These histrionics of yours are premature and remind me of the screeching of women in labor.”

Ben turned toward the voice. “You are lying,” he said. “You are lying so I can be nursed back to health without giving too much trouble to anyone.”

“I am not lying. I make no promises, but—”

“I give you warning. If I’m still blind three days hence, I will end my life! Go ahead, give me laudanum! Leave a great bottle of it so I’ll have it when I need it!”

Dr. Gibbs calmly answered, “Very well. You might want to take a bit now to relax your muscles and speed the healing of your head. If it serves to reduce the pressure on your optic nerves, you might very well see again by tonight.”

Ben was silent. If I have a chance to see again, I must do all in my power to make it happen!

Dr. Gibbs’ voice softened. “The more you rest and try not to upset yourself, the sooner your concussion will heal. If you toss about and yell, you will cause a rise in your own blood pressure. This will make your situation more difficult.”

“That’s why you brought laudanum, not to treat the pain in my back and legs.”

“Yes. I was quite sure you would rant and rave and make yourself worse.”

Ben grunted. “Then give me a dose.”

Dr. Gibbs complied. He left the bottle of laudanum and told the women how much and how often to give the patient.

Ben lay quietly for the remainder of the day. Rosalie, understanding his feelings, tried to prevent Elena and Megan from fussing over him. This proved quite difficult until an event in the early evening distracted them all.