Fell wiped his forehead and with the toe of one boot nudged the rotting tree he had just floored. Many had been damaged by a vicious late-summer storm that had torn through the forest the day before and now they leaned down precariously, dangerously unstable and threatening to keel over with the slightest breeze. Thick boughs lay scattered among sodden leaves and more than one tangle of roots pointed accusingly at the sky, a gaping hole in the ground yawning where the tree had once stood. The once-peaceful forest was now a maze of hazards and until he’d made it safe again Fell had requested Sophia kept away—giving him time to think about things he’d long since imagined settled.
She returned my kisses in the darkness of the night and didn’t pull away, and even now she has a smile for me whenever I enter a room. Of all the things I expected of our marriage I never saw this.
But memories of smiles and kisses were by no means all that conspired to make Fell’s life complicated.
Thoughts of Sophia’s soft words had haunted him ever since she’d uttered them—I don’t regret a thing. They’d been a throwaway comment, surely, and no more than that—yet he couldn’t seem to master the pleasure they stirred at the back of his mind. The unexpected compliment was like a soothing balm for his riled soul, far more pleasant than it had any business of being for all it was damnably confusing. If he was sensible, he’d forget every word and maintain his defences, too canny to fall into the trap even if temptation called to him with determination growing by the day. Sophia’s kindness—for couldn’t that be all it amounted to?—might so easily trick him into believing she felt more for him than she ever could and surely he’d be a fool to offer sentiment there was no way she’d return.
For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon the sound of metal on wood rang through the trees, echoing around the forest to startle birds and send squirrels scurrying back to their dreys. It was only when his stomach gave a growl of complaint that Fell realised it was long past time for dinner, too absorbed in the rhythm of stacking and chopping to notice how much time had passed or that the clouds above had darkened further into stormy menace. Even so, it took the first drop of rain falling on to his pushed-back hair to make him straighten up and lay his axe across his shoulders, straining against the handle to stretch the tight muscles of his aching back.
He cast an eye over the rough piles of wood, making a note to return later with a barrow to collect them. For the time being he hefted as much as he could carry beneath one arm and turned for home, axe dangling from his free hand as easily as a child might swing a doll. Rain began to fall all around him, pattering through the canopy with increasing force until the heavens opened in earnest and a distant grumble signalled approaching thunder roaring in to accompany the downpour that soaked the back of Fell’s shirt. He lowered his head and ploughed onwards, boots stirring the wet leaves underfoot. It wouldn’t be long before he reached the cottage and then he could dry off before the sitting-room fire, steam rising from his damp curls as they shone black in the light.
If the sudden flit of a woodpigeon somewhere off to the side hadn’t caught his eye, Fell might have missed the wildly tilted tree. Instead he just saw it—teetering drunkenly, the ancient oak looked as though it might topple any moment and an unpleasant tingle threaded down Fell’s spine at the thought.
Anyone walking beneath wouldn’t stand a chance, Sophia included. That tree would come down right on top of them and there would be nothing anyone could do to help.
With a sigh lost to the stirring forest he set down his armful of wood and strode over to the oak, eyes narrowed against the sting of rain. Spending the time to chop through another thick trunk was the last thing he wanted with his stomach growling louder by the minute but the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. It would be on his head now if somebody was hurt and hunger was no justification to leave a death trap where anyone might stumble beneath it.
‘Good thing I told Sophia not to go walking,’ he muttered to himself as he hauled the axe on to his shoulder and looked the tree up and down, deciding where to land the first blow. It was vital he chose the right place to guide the trunk down safely, its huge weight more than able to crush him into the forest floor. Carefully calculating the angle of its descent, he marked the spot with the edge of his axe and then began to swing in earnest, sweat growing on his brow to mingle with the unceasing rain.
The tree was old and took a long time to surrender to the axe, but bit by bit Fell cut through the rings, each telling a year of history in the oak’s long life. He felt a glint of regret at having to bring it to a close, but the risk of leaving the tree standing was just too great, so precariously did it hang over a path often used by those passing through. Each swing brought it closer to falling until eventually the trunk gave an ominous crack and the tree began to move, so slowly it was hardly noticeable at first, but for the swish of its wet leaves catching those around it.
Fell stood back to give it room, following its unhurried lean forward with practised eyes. Any moment now it would pick up speed and come crashing down among the moss and soaked grass, a hulking beast of wood and bark quite capable of ending his life in turn if Fell didn’t treat it with respect. Fortunately for him he knew better than to stand in its way and surely there was nobody else out in such a storm to be caught in the path of a trunk whistling through the air with deadly force—
But for the bright red dress Sophia was wearing Fell might not have seen her. As it was he barely had time to watch her emerge from the scrub and peer around from beneath her soggy bonnet before her eyes grew round and she stood quite still, rooted to the spot and gazing upwards in paralysed terror as the oak swept through the rain and hurled itself towards the very place where she stood.
‘Sophia!’
His cry rang out above the snarl of thunder overhead, but he hardly realised he’d shouted her name as he threw himself towards her. All he knew was he had to reach her, push her out of the way even if it meant harm to himself—and as he closed the space between them and flung her bodily to the side he thought he could at least die peacefully in the knowledge he had traded his life for hers.
Sophia lay on the ground, one cheek pressed to the cold earth and her arms flung out like a child’s discarded doll. Fell’s shoulder had caught her square in the belly, forcing the air from her and leaving her gasping for breaths that came short and painful.
Where is he? Surely he didn’t—?
She wrenched herself to her knees, feeling her head spin with the movement, but pushing the sensation aside. Mere feet away the knotted trunk of the mighty oak lay defeated on its side, a jagged wound showing where Fell’s axe had brought it tumbling down. There was no sign of him, however, and with the coldest dread Sophia scrambled through the mud on her hands and knees to look among the fallen tree’s tangled branches.
‘Fell? Fell, where are you?’
The leaves were glossy with rain as she parted the boughs and looked desperately for any glimpse of Fell underneath them, searching for a glimpse of white shirt or curling black hair. Sickening fear and a slow creep of hysteria climbed up to choke her, horror and disbelief mixing to make her shake her head in instinctive denial.
No. No. This can’t be happening. Not again. Not after Papa.
Could it be? Sophia gritted her teeth on her terror and ripped the branches back with frantic strength. Had she truly caused the death of yet another man she cared for?
She should have stayed away. If she’d listened, done as she was asked, Fell wouldn’t have had to leap in front of her and save her from certain death—just as Papa had in a different way, leaving Mother a bitter widow with yet more reason to loathe her unwanted only child. It was history repeating itself in the cruellest way and Sophia felt her fingers grow numb as shock and terror turned her blood to ice.
Why didn’t I stay in the cottage? Why did I come to look for him when the rain started?
Fathomless guilt and despair enveloped her in a suffocating cloak and she stifled a desperate sob, still tearing through the branches. Her hands were scratched and sore from the rough bark, but she didn’t spare a thought for the pain, their sting nothing compared to the agony of never seeing Fell’s smile again.
A low groan made her freeze.
Two long, tanned arms bound in a torn shirt reached out from beneath the trunk, hands digging into the wet ground for grip. The rest of Fell followed them, mud-spattered but miraculously unharmed, and Sophia stared up at him from her crouch on the churned earth as he straightened up with a wince.
‘Lucky for me that ditch was there. You’d have been able to use me as a rug otherwise.’
A strangled cry fell from Sophia’s lips and she lurched to her feet. Fell stood large as life before her, fully intact and only a little rumpled from his fall, and without thinking she threw herself into his arms.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You could have... I could have...’
She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Relief bloomed like a flower, although the choking grip of guilt and fear didn’t relax for a moment, sinking its claws into her heaving chest and wringing out each breath.
‘You could have died!’
Some distant part felt Fell’s arms come round her and cradle her gently against the front of his tattered shirt, her tears soaking into the already damp linen. The rain that fell all around them hadn’t ceased, although Sophia hardly noticed it pattering down on her uncovered head, her bonnet lying on the ground where Fell had thrown her out of harm’s way. All she could do was cling to him with shaking hands and relish the knowledge that he was alive. He was warm beneath his shirt and his heart beat strongly where Sophia pressed her ear against his broad chest.
Raw emotion ran its course as she and Fell stood together in a wordless embrace, both wonderful and terrible at the same time. Relief so strong it could have brought her to her knees still washed over her like a cool stream, but the spectre of guilt loomed ever larger, its dark presence eclipsing all else until there was nothing it hadn’t overwhelmed.
I so nearly struck again with my folly. Just like before.
She stepped back, reluctantly breaking the contact between their bodies, and at once felt the chill of a breeze flatten her wet skirts to her legs. Weak with distress, Sophia wavered, grateful when Fell took her arm in his firm grip but cursing herself for needing his help yet again. Was she always to be such a burden on him, just as she had been for those at Fenwick Manor? It appeared so—without speaking he reclaimed his axe from the ground and turned them both for home, steering Sophia through the trees like a patient dog retrieving a stray sheep.
Each step she took towards the cottage was agony, but not because of the old injury to her leg. Walking with Fell through the grey murk of the storm conjured memories she never wanted to revisit of the first time she’d felt such insurmountable guilt, almost twenty years before but living inside her each day like a malignant force. The awful, life-shattering wrong she had done in the past had almost repeated itself in the present, a ghastly mirror image of the tragedy she’d caused before. Mother had never let her forget her sins and surely Sophia didn’t deserve to—she was dangerous, a walking curse, and Fell had no idea what kind of woman he had allowed into his home.
His hand was warm on her arm, but nothing could chase away the chill in Sophia’s gut. She didn’t dare look up into his face, too frightened of what she might find there to risk a glance.
Perhaps I ought to tell him. He should know what he married, no matter my own shame. It’s the least he deserves after all I’ve done and might again in my foolishness.
She kept her focus on her hands as Fell stoked up the sitting-room fire, although out of the corner of her eye she watched him thrust the poker into the flames. His shirt was soaked through and showed every rough-hewn contour of muscle underneath, a sight both intriguing and painful as she wondered if she’d ever be permitted to touch them again.
With the flames leaping in the grate Fell dropped into his worn chair opposite the sofa where Sophia hunched. The light danced over his skin, glowing bronze in some places while others were thrown into shadow.
‘I asked you not to walk in the forest.’
Sophia flinched. Back at Fenwick Manor she would have known exactly what came next. With another sickening rush of dread she screwed her eyes closed, certain what was about to happen and knowing there was no escape. The rage would come now, a blistering stream that would echo for miles and bring tears to run down her blanched cheeks. Mother possessed such a talent for reducing Sophia to nothing more than a sorry heap of remorse, every mistake rewarded by a punishment that always began in just this way, with Sophia trapped and unable to run from the venom about to cut down to the bone.
Her heart was beating too hard and too fast to hear Fell’s words, to begin with hidden beneath the rushing of blood in her ears. Waiting for the shouting to start was almost as bad as the punishment itself, a moment that stretched on with horrible menace Mother always seemed to enjoy—
But it didn’t come.
‘Next time I ask you not to go there, please listen. It was for your own safety and my peace of mind. I’d rather not have to dig my wife out from beneath a fallen tree.’ He raised a wry brow that dropped into a frown at Sophia’s frozen face.
‘Don’t be kind to me. I don’t deserve it,’ she almost whispered into her lap, lips dry and fingers locked tightly together. ‘I could have killed you.’
Fell scoffed, stretching his legs out more comfortably towards the hearth. ‘It was a mistake. An unfortunate one, I grant you, but a mistake none the less and one I don’t think you’ll make again.’
Sophia looked up at the nonchalance of his tone, eyes seeking his in the flame-lit sitting room. He looked back, watching her carefully now with a quiet wariness the shake of her head didn’t diminish.
He doesn’t understand. He’s staring straight at me and doesn’t truly see.
‘It may well happen again. I don’t know how or when, but I have a talent for hurting those around me and I never seem to learn. In that respect my mother was quite correct.’
Her actions would have been deadly. Mother had always said Sophia lacked a brain in her empty head and she’d just been proven right once again. There was nobody to blame but herself for what had occurred to tear her family apart, Sophia knew, and she deserved every moment of wretchedness Mother had ever heaped upon her for causing the death of her own father.
Every time she called me useless or stupid she was correct. I was a blight on her life and once I explain Fell will surely think the same.
‘Ah. Your dear, sweet mother. She had more wisdom to share, did she? Was this as kind as the other compliment she paid you?’ Fell crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world as though it was Mother in the wrong and not Sophia.
She twirled the hem of her apron hard between cold fingers, red marks appearing as she spoke. ‘It might not have been kind, but it was true. I should never have walked out after you told me not to... I’m so stupid. Stupid, useless—’
The apron left sore ridges on her knuckles and she rubbed at them absently, almost glad of the pain that flared beneath her fingertips. It didn’t seem fair for her to escape unscathed, even if she had to administer the punishment herself, although when Fell leaned towards her she stilled.
He held her gaze intently, mismatched eyes boring into hers as if he would hypnotise her with his stare. ‘You made one mistake. Nobody should be cast off for ever because of one mistake and it most certainly does not make you stupid or useless.’
Somewhere deep down inside her something stirred. It was the faintest, most unfamiliar sensation and it took her by surprise, its novelty casting a ripple of confusion across the surface of her strained emotions.
What is it? Certainly nothing I can name.
Nobody had ever spoken to her of redemption before, not even once in the long years of her torment. Fell’s sweet words were a temptation like no other, so strange and unexpected and yet inviting beyond belief, flying in the face of everything she’d always been told.
Not stupid? Not useless after all?
The desire to believe in them gripped her mercilessly and held on tight. They couldn’t be true, but the dangerous pleasure of Fell’s naive assurance was intoxicating, the stirring inside her growing as he waited for her reply.
‘You might not be so sure after I tell you my story.’
Fell slumped back again, clear frustration written across his face. ‘Why do you think that? Because of some nonsense of your mother’s? I can’t imagine what you think you did that was so very terrible it should mark you for life.’
Sophia gripped one hand in the other to stop herself from sinking her nails into the skin. There would never be a better moment to confess to her husband exactly what terrible thing she’d done and yet she still shied away. It would shame her to nothing and lay bare the worst, the very worst mistake of her entire life, but Fell had been willing to give himself up for her and he couldn’t be allowed to remain ignorant of how little she deserved his chivalry. His belief in her would be put to the test and she could only hope he wouldn’t withdraw completely when he learned the truth.
She took a breath, heart pounding with sick fear, but her lips betrayed her all the same.
‘What if I told you I killed my own father?’
Fell had taken hold of the poker again, meaning to stir the glowing flames, but he stopped with it hanging from one scarred fist.
‘Your father? What do you mean?’
‘Just what I said. By my actions I killed him—or as good as.’
‘That can’t be true.’
Sophia swallowed hard, seeing the horrified set of her husband’s features and almost wishing she could bite back the words. It was as though she’d opened Pandora’s box, however. They were out in the world and couldn’t be put away again, only this time there was no hope left behind to balance the other evils that escaped.
‘What happened?’
The poker lay forgotten on the floor as Fell turned to her, disbelief in every line that she wished she could keep for ever. Surely once he had heard her story he wouldn’t want to sit before her any longer, no doubt retreating to the forge or elsewhere she couldn’t follow, and she would have to rely on her memories for the picture of his face showing anything other than shock.
‘Are you sure you want to know?’
‘I am.’
Fell’s voice was low, although Sophia was sure she caught a note of caution creep beneath its deep cadence. She risked a swift glance at him sitting on the other side of the fireplace, huge and immovable in his chair and his face set like a granite carving as he waited for her to begin.
She laced her fingers together on the bright skirt of her gown and surrendered to her fate. There would be no going back once she started, no pulling away from the memories of the life she’d left behind that still reached for her with spectral hands. But it was her own fault she had to tell this tale; nobody else had almost claimed Fell’s life that afternoon, or left havoc in her wake many years before.
‘I’ve never had an easy relationship with my mother. She loved my father to distraction and always resented my being born as a rival for his affection. Although she hid the fact from him, I always knew I was to blame for her troubles; I was an unwanted embarrassment to her, so spirited she didn’t like me to mix with the children of our society in case I shamed her. It was so lonely in that big house all alone for much of the time. Papa travelled a lot and Mother didn’t like to spend time with me, understandably, so despite her orders I sought out companionship wherever I could find it. I had more courage in those days.’
The fire flickered in the grate and Sophia kept her eyes trained on the whirling orange tongues. Rain still hurled itself against the windows and a far-off rumble of thunder made Lash whine uneasily at her feet.
‘My only friend was a gardener’s little girl. Her name was Letty and I met her one day quite by chance in the grounds around our home. It was wonderful to have a playmate at last, even though we both knew we had to keep our games a secret—Mother would have been outraged I’d befriended a servant, although I confess I received more comfort from poor Letty than I ever did from my own mother—’ She broke off, a thin twist of a smile curving her dry lips. A picture of Letty’s wan little face swam before her as vividly as if it had been days since she’d last seen her and not fifteen years and more, every detail still fresh in her mind. ‘But you must be wondering what this has to do with Papa.’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fell’s nod. He sat so still he might not have been real, some figment of fancy if not for the tapping of one apprehensive finger on his knee.
‘For some months all was well. My new friendship remained undetected and for the first time in my life I knew what it was to have someone to talk to, someone to laugh with who didn’t seem to notice my many flaws. Letty and I would meet most days in the gardens and we would play with my dolls and make up stories and all the other things I’d always longed to do with a friend of my own—until eventually, of course, Mother found out. I was punished most severely and the gardener lost his job, which Mother made sure I knew was entirely my fault.’ Sophia hardened her jaw for a moment as the memories came back, painful and raw. ‘We pined for each other and I felt overwhelming guilt for what happened to her poor father. You can imagine my delight, then, when Letty sneaked in to see me one last time and yet again I disobeyed Mother’s orders to go down and meet her—although she left me with a gift neither of us had foreseen. Scarlet fever.’
The tapping finger halted abruptly although Sophia barely noticed. Still focused on the leaping flames her eyes had dimmed, her vision smudged at the edges with what she realised far too late were burning tears.
‘Papa returned from business abroad the day I was confined to my bed. He took one look at my burning face and was back in the saddle at once. Mother tried to persuade him to send a servant for the doctor instead, but my father insisted on going himself, terrified at the thought of losing his little daughter and riding far too quickly and recklessly in his desire to fetch me a cure.
‘I’m told my mother’s screams when she saw his body carried home were so loud it set our foxhounds howling. I was too delirious with fever to hear them, but I’ll never forget her face when she told me I’d killed my papa or the knowledge that if only I’d been less headstrong, done as I was told by those more sensible than me, he would still be alive. She made sure I knew it was all my fault and I have lived with that knowledge ever since, while Mother made it her life’s work to break my disobedient spirit and make my days as miserable as possible.’
She forced the last of the tale out between teeth clenched against rising grief and shame like a physical blow. If she’d been alone, she might have surrendered and allowed her cry to burst forth, but with Fell in the room so silent and watchful instead she swallowed it like bitter poison that burned all the way down.
For a while neither rigid figure moved an inch, both suspended by the horror of Sophia’s words. What flared in Fell’s mind Sophia could only guess, her own emotions shrunk to the shard of agony trying its best to lodge in the space between her ribs. Now he knew the truth of her existence surely there was nothing else he could feel for her other than perhaps pity and distaste so strong a lesser man might have broken his promise to her and thrown her into the street.
‘Nonsense.’
Sophia peered through beaded lashes, startled by Fell’s harsh mutter. ‘What?’
‘I said nonsense.’
He rose suddenly to his feet and before Sophia had a half-second to react there he was, sitting beside her on the sofa and reaching for her with hands she’d feared she might never feel again.
‘Is that truly what you were taught? That what happened to your father was in any way of your causing?’
His battered hand came to rest on hers and Sophia felt her heart leap up at the entirely unexpected contact. Whatever reaction she’d imagined Fell would have to her story certainly wasn’t this—his warm fingers skimming atop her knuckles and an earnest look in his eye. There was no censure there, she saw, with amazement, only sympathy and understanding that confused her beyond measure, stoking her already undeniable weakness for him into full flame. That compassionate look drove a spike of sweet longing deep into her tight-wound chest, surely the only man alive capable of distracting her from the worst of her fears.
‘How can you doubt it? You heard my story. I am to blame.’
Still hardly able to believe what she was seeing, Sophia watched Fell shake his head, as firmly and decisively as if he had the power to make the final judgement.
‘You are not. Can’t you see? It was a tragic accident and nothing more. If we were to follow your mother’s logic as to who to blame, the culprit would be her: if she’d spent more time with you, allowed you to have friends, you might not have been forced to take comfort in a gardener’s child. If anyone is culpable, perhaps it is herself.’
Sophia felt her eyes widen, behind them still aching with unshed tears. What Fell suggested was close to sacrilege; any criticism of Mother was unthinkable and to imply she might not be the paragon of virtue she had always maintained...
Her thoughts must have shown in her face, as with a wry smile Fell reached up and, so gently it almost halted Sophia’s mind in its tracks, wiped a stray tear from her lower lashes with one thumb.
‘I know you don’t believe me now. I know you think I’m wrong. But will you do me the favour of thinking about what I say? You might even find some sense in it, if such a thing could be believed.’
She swallowed, breathlessly aware of the soft curve his thumb had sketched over her flushed and sensitive cheek. Agitation still flared inside her, disbelief and uncertainty circling like vultures, but from beneath came the faintest flutter of that same stirring sensation he had provoked in her before.
What is it? I didn’t know then and I can hardly tell now, either.
The flames dancing in the grate cast half of Fell’s face into shadow, but still she caught the gleam of satisfaction there at her hesitant nod. It was the only reply she was capable of making, so dizzyingly did the carousel of her thoughts spin, but it seemed enough for him for now and the stirring grew stronger as with a jolt of amazement Sophia finally realised what it was.
Do you know, I think it’s hope. No wonder I couldn’t recognise it before.
For longer than she cared to admit she’d lived in the darkness, cowering beneath the shadow of Mother’s cruelty and guilt that never released her from its grip. With one touch of his hand Fell had given her reason to think twice, cautiously as though she feared what she might find—but still a notion before now she never would have dared entertain. Nothing could come of it, she was sure...and yet...
He didn’t flinch away from me. If nothing else, I ought to be grateful for that.
Strange warmth drifted slowly outwards from Sophia’s racing heart to seep through each vein, chasing away where once there had been only ice. Fell’s kindness in the face of her deepest shame was nothing short of wonderful, a blessing she still wasn’t sure she deserved, and the window into her thoughts must have been crystal clear for her husband as he carefully traced her cold hand.
‘Just think it over. You needn’t say anything else now. Only...’ He trailed off, the smallest suggestion of another smile making Sophia’s jangled nerves sit up and take notice.
‘Only?’
‘I wouldn’t mind experiencing a little of that spirit you said you once possessed. I think it would be a beautiful thing to see, no matter what you might have been told.’
Sophia couldn’t help a shaky laugh. ‘Are you sure about that? Even now you know the trouble it caused?’
‘I am. I saw a glint of it that day in the village when you intervened with Mrs Cairn on my behalf and let me tell you—it was nothing of which you should be ashamed.’
He stretched upwards, both arms reaching above his head and a wince crossing his rugged face. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go to bed. It’s been a long day and I ache like nothing on earth.’
Sophia nodded. A sideways glance showed a slice of honed midriff wink from beneath his muddied shirt, still stained from the accident that could have killed him, and the sight and thought sent two very different thrills through her she had no hope of separating.
How glad am I that it did not. There are no words to give thanks for his escape.
Still, that glimpse of the secret geography of his muscles managed somehow to slip past her lingering horror and speak to the part of her so vulnerable to its charms. After the events of the day she wanted nothing more than to be close to her husband, to revel in his warmth and celebrate the simple pleasure of being alive. His goodness in the face of her distress only increased his virtues, another layer of rightness laid over him like a cloak. In the darkness of their bedchamber she could fit herself along the broad length of him and feel the sense of safety his presence gave her and in that moment there was nothing she wanted to do more.
Just when I thought he couldn’t be more dangerous to my resolve he goes and outdoes himself. How am I to maintain my composure when he threatens it at every turn?
He smiled down at her and Sophia felt her heart turn over in her chest at the dimple half-submerged beneath dark stubble. How was she to resist that face? Or harden herself against the kindness that insisted there was more to Sophia than she herself believed?
The answer, of course, is simple. I cannot.
‘I think I’ll come with you.’ She carefully avoided his gaze, flushing to the very tips of her ears, but powerless to stop her wayward tongue. ‘An early night is just what I desire, too.’