TO SAY SEVEN dogs were excited to arrive at Ballystone Hall was an understatement. They’d been crated separately for the flight, then confined in the car.
Bryn opened the rear doors and the dogs leapt out in one unruly heap. The doors of the dower house were flung open. Charlie stood there beside his mother—and then Charlie was suddenly no longer standing. She raced through the garden path as the dogs raced towards her. She held out her arms and then she was on the ground, buried by a mass of hysterical, barking, joyous fur.
How many women would do this? Bryn thought. She’d sacrificed her business to try and get her grandmother out of trouble. She’d refused to send the dogs—and the cows—to refuges where they’d almost certainly eventually be put down. She’d travelled half a world to see them safely settled—she’d even had to trust him.
He was figuring it out by now, just what a big deal trust was. He’d done a bit of…sleuthing? His lawyers had hired investigators to try and find Thomas’ whereabouts. It hadn’t seemed too big a deal—hardly even intrusive—to have them check on the ex-husband of Charlotte Foster.
‘The guy seems almost as big a slime ball as your uncle,’ his lawyer had told him yesterday. ‘He’s currently got bankruptcy proceedings against him and there’s a paternity suit in progress. It seems like your Charlotte’s one of a line.’
Your Charlotte. He thought of those words now as he watched her tumble with the dogs, holding as many as she could, laughing…weeping?
Yeah, weeping but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it because he wasn’t allowed near.
Because she’d been taught not to trust by experts, and who was he to undo years of distrust?
If she could love…
She certainly could, he thought, watching the mass of dogs, the laughter, the tears, the flying fur. He felt anger, frustration…love.
‘She had a shower this morning,’ his mother said. ‘What a waste.’ She was walking down the path to join him, watching the tumbling mass in approval. The Ballystone dogs were watching on the sidelines. They were clearly ready to check these new arrivals but even they seemed to know that what was happening between Charlie and her dogs was special. ‘Are you going to introduce us?’
He could do that, mostly because it didn’t require him taking his eyes off the tumbling, hugging Charlie. It even gave him time out from the aching hunger around his heart.
‘Possum’s the fox terrier,’ he told her. ‘She’s missing an ear and she minds. When you greet her she’ll put up a paw as if to hide it. Like she’s embarrassed. Fred’s part basset, part who knows what? His name should be Hoover because that’s what he does. Hoovers everything up on the understanding that if it’s not edible he can bring it up later. Flossie’s the white scraggy mutt—part poodle, part a million other varieties. She’s the one I hit, but as far as we can tell she’s suffering no long-term consequences. The wolfhound’s Caesar. He shakes when he’s frightened and he’s often frightened. Dottie’s the Dalmatian. Her teats are hanging so low because she was used for puppy farming and then dumped when she’d outlived sequential pregnancies. Mothball’s the Maltese fuzzball—you try and hurt Charlie—or even hug her—and you’ll need to contend with Mothball. And finally there’s Stretch… He’s the one on top of Charlie now. A sausage dog. A vegetarian. He loves lentils but don’t give them to him. His wind could clear the great hall.’
His voice trailed off. He was watching the mass of girl and dog.
His mother was watching him.
‘You love her, don’t you?’ she whispered.
He didn’t turn. The question hung.
‘I was talking about the dogs,’ he said at last.
‘Surface talk,’ she said dismissively. ‘You love Charlie.’
‘Yes,’ he said simply because there was nothing else to say.
‘But she’s going home.’
He shrugged. ‘Wherever home is. She has no money, no job, nothing. Here… I could offer…’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. She has to go her own way.’
‘You could follow.’
‘What, and leave you with the dogs?’
‘For such a cause, yes. I’d even let them share my pink living room.’
‘Greater love hath no parent,’ he said and smiled and hugged her but his eyes were still on Charlie.
How could he make her trust?
He had no idea.
‘Well, we’re all eating in the great hall tonight,’ Alice said, breezily cheerful again. ‘We have seven new residents and we need to celebrate. Charlie, wiggle your way out of that tangle. Bryn, take the dogs and Charlie and show them their new home. I’m about to organise a feast.’
‘Please, don’t go to any trouble,’ Charlie managed, emerging from dogs.
‘No trouble at all,’ Alice said, poking her son hard. ‘It’s Bryn who has to conquer…trouble?’
* * *
By dinner time the dogs were exhausted and happy to settle by the great fire in the massive dining room while their associated humans ate dinner.
Charlie was also exhausted but it wasn’t physical exhaustion. Bryn had taken the dogs—and her—for a long exploratory walk over the estate. He’d been quiet for most of the time, peaceful even, strolling as if there were no undercurrents at all. He’d spoken only briefly, pointing out a cluster of heifer calves with obvious pride, showing her the field Cordelia and Violet would call home, showing her an ancient stone wall, which rumour had it had Roman foundations, talking of the problems with an old mining site on his west border and what the environmental people were doing now…
It was a gorgeous day and Bryn hadn’t seemed to notice her silence. He’d simply been a good host, describing his land. He’d thrown sticks for the dogs, laughed at their antics. They were crazy happy to be out of confinement and he seemed content, too. He seemed…as if he was enjoying life.
For Charlie, though… Every moment brought a build-up of tension.
Why can’t I relax? she asked herself. Why can’t I just enjoy?
Why can’t I treat this man simply as a friend?
Or more to the point… Why can’t I let myself treat this man as more than a friend?
She was being stupid. A coward. She knew she was, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She’d dug her hands deep in her pockets and left them there, as if she suspected that if they escaped she might find her hand in Bryn’s and how disastrous would that be?
Stupid, stupid, stupid, but by the time they’d walked the estate and she’d come home…no, not home…by the time they’d come back to the dower house…and Bryn had left her to clean up for dinner she was emotionally exhausted. Then, sitting at the vast dining-room table covered with peonies and sweet peas and roses, all in silver vases that must be worth a fortune, with the dogs by the fire, with Alice beaming and with Bryn watching her with that same gentle, understanding smile… By that time she was so tired she wanted to weep. Her defences were taking every ounce of self-control. The emotional barrier she’d built was impenetrable, to be defended at all times—but at what cost?
Alice had pulled in the big guns for the night. ‘We do this for special,’ she told Charlie happily. ‘In the old days the family had chefs, undercooks, kitchen maids, butler, manservants, the works. Now I have a lady from the village and a couple of girls who pop in at need. I have no idea what all the servants did.’
‘They catered to our every whim,’ Bryn told her. ‘But we can’t think up enough whims to keep them employed.’
But Charlie wasn’t thinking about whims. She was thinking of Alice’s words. We do this for special. What was special about this night?
It was the night to mark…the end? The dogs were here and happy. She could go home.
The food, the setting, were magnificent. Charlie should have loved it. Instead she toyed with the food, trying to dredge up an appetite she’d completely lost.
The dogs seemed to be peaceful here already. Could she go home tomorrow?
‘I enquired about flights while I was at the airport,’ Bryn said, cutting across her thoughts. ‘There are empty seats on a flight on Tuesday. Unless you want to stay until Cordelia and Violet…’
‘I don’t,’ she said, too fast, and got a grave look for her pains. She caught herself. ‘I’m sorry. That sounds…ungracious. But I do need to go home.’
‘What will you do there?’ Alice asked and Charlie thought Bryn wouldn’t ask that. He’d guess how much it hurt.
‘I have friends I can stay with until I find my feet,’ she said, trying to sound more certain than she was. But she did have friends. She would be okay. ‘There are always desperate calls for interior designers from socialites who want impressive party venues,’ she told them. ‘I have friends in the industry who’ll give me casual work until I can organise myself again.’
‘You’d rather organise parties than stay here and oversee the development of the Hall?’ Alice asked in astonishment. ‘I know…’ She held up her hands to ward off Bryn’s protest. He didn’t want her pressured, but Alice had no such qualms. ‘I understand Bryn not liking pink is an issue, but there are other colours.’ She turned dreamy. ‘Maybe we could have a marine theme. That might work being so far from the sea. A beachside holiday when there’s no beach. A challenge… We could use something like Neptune’s Retreat as the formal name and put Ballystone Hall in small letters underneath. We’d need to install a pool, though. With one of those wave makers?’
She was off and running and Charlie looked at Bryn and Bryn looked at Charlie and their lips twitched. More. There was laughter in both their eyes, but the laughter faded almost as soon as it appeared.
There was regret. Loss?
The home phone rang.
Saved by the bell, Charlie thought as Bryn sighed and rose, but she didn’t know what she was being saved from. Seeing the pain in Bryn’s eyes? Reflecting her own pain?
‘This is where we need a butler,’ Bryn growled. The ladies who’d helped in the kitchen had gone home, so Lord Carlisle had to head out of the room and answer his own phone. He was trailed by all the dogs.
They heard him talking, briefly, urgently, and then he was back.
‘The team reclaiming the mining site either didn’t seal the fence properly when they left tonight or someone’s been messing around up there looking at what they’re doing,’ he said brusquely. He looked only at Alice—as if Charlie were already gone? As if that final gaze had been a goodbye? ‘Ewan Grady’s cattle have broken through and so have some of ours. There are exposed shafts up there. We need to get them out before we lose any.’
‘Ewan’s one of our tenant farmers,’ Alice told Charlie. ‘I think I told you. The mine…they’re uncapping the shafts to make more permanent repairs but at the moment they’re exposed and dangerous. Bryn, do you want help?’
‘Ewan and his son are there already,’ Bryn told her. ‘We don’t want anyone up there who doesn’t know the place backward.’ And then finally he did look at Charlie. His face was grim. Because of his cows? Or because of her? ‘Goodnight, Charlie,’ he said brusquely. ‘Sleep well.’
And he was gone.
Charlie was left looking at Alice. Who looked at her…with understanding.
Alice…
This woman had watched her husband leave to clean a water tank and he hadn’t come back. And her daughter, too…
‘He knows what he’s doing,’ Alice said soundly. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘How can you ever stop worrying?’
‘You have to trust,’ Alice said gently. ‘Otherwise you’ll go mad.’
Alice started clearing but there wasn’t much to clear. Charlie walked out to the massive front doors, opened them and watched the tail lights of the Land Rover. She watched them until they disappeared into the distance.
There was nothing she could do. She’d be no help up there.
If she stayed here…if she trusted…could she learn?
She closed her eyes and then Alice was there, touching her arm.
‘Come and help me wash up,’ she said gently. ‘And don’t look like that, sweetheart. Or if you do…think about what you can do about it.’
‘I can’t…’
‘I think you probably can.’
She steered her back inside and closed the big doors after her. The dogs milled around their legs, excitement over. Heading back to the fire.
And Charlie stopped dead. Checked. Rechecked. And finally said it aloud.
‘Alice…where’s Flossie?’
* * *
Once upon a time Flossie’s devotion had been absolute. That devotion had been repaid by dumping, by abandonment. Since then Flossie had learned new people, new devotion, but the last few days had been confusing to say the least. New country, new dogs, new faces…
Flossie had stood with the other dogs by Charlie’s side but she’d seen tail lights retreating into the distance. She knew what that meant.
She’d started to run.
* * *
Alice and Charlie spent useless minutes searching the house, searching the yard, calling. ‘She must have followed the car,’ Charlie said at last. ‘I had the door open. For a moment… I wasn’t looking.’ She felt dreadful but still…following the car would be okay. Surely? The mine wasn’t so far that Flossie couldn’t catch up, and the men would see her.
Bryn would rescue her yet again.
But she couldn’t count on it. She wouldn’t count on it.
‘Can we go?’ she asked, but Alice was already reaching for her jacket, grabbing a couple of pairs of wellies.
‘Of course,’ she said briskly. ‘Bryn won’t want Flossie up there while he’s trying to herd the cows. Come on, sweetheart, let’s go stop your dog being helpful.’
* * *
By the time Bryn reached the mine, Ewan and his son had already herded most of the cows to safety. A couple of younger cows were dodging them, though, maybe enjoying the excitement. Part of the fence was down, knocked by the cows?
Bryn turned to Ewan’s son, a lad of about eighteen. ‘Can you head back to the farm and get some decent rope so we can pull this fence back together?’ Ewan’s car was parked at the far side of the mine. ‘Skirt right round,’ Bryn said brusquely. ‘No one falls down a shaft on my watch.’
He and Ewan returned to cornering, backing the two reluctant cows, working with torches, taking care at each step.
* * *
Flossie couldn’t run as fast as the car but she kept it in her sights. By the time she reached the mine, though, the vehicle was parked, its lights off. There were men moving through the shadows with torches. There were cows.
This was unfamiliar. None of the voices seemed right.
And then, on the far side of the tailings, another vehicle… Tail lights.
It started steadily down the hill.
Flossie stared desperately across the tailings and knew what she had to do.
She didn’t go around the tailings, though. She cut straight across. And halfway across…a shaft.
* * *
‘What the hell…?’
The scream cut the night. It wasn’t human, it was a high-pitched yelp, followed by the sound of shale falling. Something heavy falling with it.
A dog.
He and Ewan stilled and stared at each other.
‘One of your dogs?’ Ewan said, his eyes reflecting Bryn’s horror. ‘It must’ve followed…’
‘Flossie,’ Bryn said bleakly, instinctively guessing what had happened. They had the two young cows backed against the remainder of the fence. Their work was almost done. ‘You get these two out and I’ll check.’
He hardly needed to check, though. He picked his way carefully across the tailings, towards the shaft where the howl had come from.
He’d been through these tailings yesterday, checking on the work, worrying about the open shafts and kids who wanted a bit of adventure. He’d rung the head of the team doing the work. ‘I want those shafts covered, now.’
It hadn’t happened.
The shaft where the noise had come from was probably the deepest.
Flossie…
* * *
Alice barrelled her beautiful sedan up the hill towards the tailings and Charlie was out of the door almost before the car stopped. Bryn’s Land Rover was in front of them. A stout, squat figure Charlie didn’t recognise was driving two cows forward. He made an urgent motion for them to stay back.
Charlie did as ordered, but it almost killed her to stay still while the cows were encouraged past the parked cars to join the herd further down the hill. Finally, with its members intact, the herd started moving placidly away. They were free to talk.
‘This is Ewan,’ Alice told Charlie. ‘A neighbouring farmer. Ewan, have you seen…?’
‘The dog? Is that what you’re looking for?’
‘Yes,’ Charlie said thankfully. ‘Is she here?’
‘In a matter of speaking,’ Ewan told her. ‘There’s a dog just fallen down a shaft. His Lordship’s checking on her now. You ladies stay by the car. I need to find out what he’s doing.’
* * *
Only of course they didn’t stay by the car. Alice had torches in the trunk, a mother of a torch and a smaller one with a brilliant beam. ‘We often find stock on the road,’ Alice said, and the fluffy pink Baroness was suddenly a brisk and efficient farmer. ‘We’re used to dealing. Watch your feet, Charlie.’ She tossed her a pair of wellies. ‘You fall and Bryn will have my hide. You will not fall down a shaft.’
A shaft… Flossie…
Alice knew this land but was still ultra-cautious, picking her way between heaps of loose dirt. Charlie followed, feeling ill.
‘They’ve made a right mess,’ Alice said grimly over her shoulder. ‘The shafts have been capped for over a hundred years. Our strategy was to fence it off more securely and reforest, until nature does the rest, but the conservation people said no, the capping has to be done properly. They’ve removed trees and dug out the old caps. Maybe they’re right long term, but, oh, Charlie, some of these shafts…’
For the first time Charlie heard her voice falter. Alice had lost a husband and a daughter, Charlie thought. She was crossing loose tailings in the dark, heading towards her son who was…
Where?
Right over a shaft. Lying flat on his stomach so he could point his torch down. For an awful moment Charlie thought he was lying on loose shale but then she saw he’d hauled timber up to make himself a solid base. There were lanterns set up beside him. Ewan and Bryn were both farmers. They’d be used to calvings at night, caring for stock. They were equipped, competent.
Safe? Not so much.
Bryn heard them come. He rolled sideways to talk as they approached. The ground was damp and mud had clung. He was filthy.
His face was grim under the dirt.
‘She’s down there. Hell, Charlie, I’m so sorry.’
That made her feel how small? Of all the things, that his first thought was to apologise to her…
‘I let her out,’ she told him. She was walking towards him but Alice clutched her arm and Ewan made an involuntary step to ward her off.
‘Land’s not stable any closer,’ Ewan muttered, casting a worried look at Bryn. ‘His Lordship shouldn’t be there.’
But from below came a faint whimper, of fear and of pain.
Flossie…
‘How…how deep?’
‘Deep,’ Bryn said grimly. ‘But it goes deeper. She seems wedged on a ledge about twenty feet down. I can see her. She’s lying still. If she moves, though…’
He stopped and Charlie saw a wash of anguish cross his face.
‘I’ll ring Davey and tell him to bring the gun.’ It was Ewan, speaking softly but matter-of-factly behind them. He was a farmer, facing facts.
Dear God.
‘Isn’t there…? I could…’ She wasn’t even sure what she’d intended to say. Ring a rescue service, a fire department, what? If this were a child, maybe there’d be men and women prepared to risk their lives, she thought, but it would be risking lives. The shale was crumbly. These were ancient tailings and there’d been rain. Who knew what the state of the shaft would be?
A gun. A blast downward. A fast end.
Flossie.
The failures of the last few weeks—or maybe even the last years—were all around her. She’d brought the dogs over here. She’d set this tragedy up.
She couldn’t help it. Her knees crumpled and she buckled and clutched her stomach.
‘No gun,’ Bryn snapped, cutting through her anguish. ‘Charlie, don’t look like that. I’m going down. Ewan, ring Davey and tell him to collect the climbing gear from the Hall. It’s in the last stall of the stables. Tell him to wake John. He taught me to abseil as a lad. He’s too old to do this now, but he’ll make sure the gear’s right and he’ll supervise. Tell him to bring a couple more of the men. I’ll need strength to haul us up. Mum, can you ring the Carlisle vet—have her on standby? Get her out here if she will. Charlie, there are planks over the pile of rubble near the Land Rover. Haul them over to make a solid base around the top of the shaft, working from where you are and slowly into me. We’ll set up a line across the top of the shaft and rig torches facing down so I can see. Let’s move, people. Go.’
‘You can’t!’ She was aghast, but Bryn was already facing down again, assessing what he could see, focussing on what lay ahead. Alice stooped to kneel beside her, hugging her close, and she turned to her. ‘Alice… Flossie…she’s a dog. I can’t ask…’
‘You don’t have to ask,’ Alice told her.
Charlie thought wildly, this woman has lost so much, and here was her son, threatening to climb into an ancient shaft, threatening more grief? But…
‘Bryn’s not stupid,’ Alice said and her voice was assured, with hardly a hint of the fear she must be feeling. ‘He knows what he’s doing, love,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t try this if he didn’t think he’d succeed. I trust him and I think you should, too.’
Trust, Charlie thought wildly. How could she trust? He’d kill himself. Of all the—
‘Charlie, don’t make this a big deal.’ Bryn’s voice cut across her thoughts. He’d rolled again so he could face her across the tailings. ‘I can see the sides of the shaft and they’re looking stable. We can plank the top and run ropes from far back where we have solid ground. Flossie seems to have the sense not to struggle. If this was stupid I wouldn’t be doing it. And Charlie…you might have let her out but this is not your call. Flossie officially belongs to me. She’s my dog on my land. My decision. Tell her, Mum.’
And Alice even managed a smile. ‘This is Bryn Morgan,’ she said, a trace of laughter in her voice. ‘He’s Twelfth Baron Carlisle of Ballystone Hall, and what he says goes. We’re mere minions, my dear. All we can do is trust.’
There was that word again. Was she kidding? Trust… How could she do that?
It seemed she had no choice.
* * *
Suddenly they had a team. Tenant farmers, workers at the Hall, the vet from the local village. They’d been summoned by Lord Carlisle but there was not a hint of resentment. Nor was there a murmur that what he was doing was stupid.
His lordship’s dog was down the shaft. His dog. That was the story. Lord Carlisle was doing what he must to recover his own, and as Charlie worked she had a weird, almost ghostly sensation of centuries past, of the Barons Carlisle of Ballystone Hall through the ages expecting their wishes to be fulfilled.
There was respect here, though, and there was the trust that Bryn had asked from her. Respect and trust weren’t things that could be inherited.
There was also concern. He was putting himself in harm’s way and they cared.
As she cared?
How could anyone care as much as she did?
Bryn had given her a task and she was pathetically grateful. Instead of standing by, watching in fear, she was lugging timbers, working from far back, making the ground as stable as she could. As more people arrived they helped, and she was part of a team.
Bryn was organising ropes, working with Ewan and John. John was a grizzled guy in his seventies. She’d been introduced to him a couple of days earlier, Bryn’s farm manager, a man of few words but reeking of common sense. His presence reassured her—a bit.
Not so much to stop the fear.
Alice was hauling timbers, too. They’d been dressed for dinner. Charlie had been wearing soft grey trousers and a turquoise blouse. Alice had been wearing a pale pink dress, beautifully tailored.
They were both now wearing a liberal coating of mud. Neither of them cared. They were working side by side, grimly intent and Charlie knew that, despite her reassuring façade, Alice’s fear was the same as hers.
Halfway through manoeuvring a plank into place she felt the fear hit in full force, a fear so great it immobilised her. She closed her eyes and went to say something, but Alice was beside her, firm and sure. Guessing what she was about to say out loud.
‘Don’t say it,’ she said urgently. ‘He won’t listen.’ And then, softly, speaking only to her, ‘Charlie, this isn’t all about the dog. He needs to get Flossie out of this shaft for himself. And for me.’ She hesitated a moment and then added. ‘And for you.’
‘Alice, he can’t.’
‘He has to,’ Alice said grimly. ‘Ever since the tragedy… He blames himself for that day. He’d bought the petrol pump and shown his dad how to use it. He never…we never dreamed his father would use it underground.’ She shook her head, as if shaking off a nightmare. ‘Enough. That’s past but now… Bryn struggles. He needs to learn to trust himself again.’
Bryn? Needing trust? The concept felt like turning the world on its head. She pushed it back, focussing on the closer thought. ‘How can you bear it?’ she whispered. ‘If you lose him…’
‘I won’t lose him,’ Alice retorted. And suddenly the grip on her shoulders tightened. ‘But you…will you lose him? He’s yours if you want him, Charlie Foster, but it takes courage.’ She hesitated and glanced over to where Bryn was edging towards the shaft. ‘It takes trust from both of you. Over and over again. You love and you love and you love and…’
Enough. Her voice broke. She let Charlie go and swiped angry tears from her face. ‘You just do,’ she said. ‘Bryn’s trusting us to keep this ground stable so are we going to stay here quibbling or are we going to cart more timber?’
And there was only one response.
They carted more timber.
* * *
Was he a complete idiot, risking his life for a dog?
This wasn’t a dog, though. This was Flossie. Charlie’s dog.
Would he do it for his own?
Yes, he would, he conceded, as he tightened his harness, letting John check and recheck. He’d do it because he loved Sadie. And his mother’s dogs? Okay, they were useless but he loved them, too. And come to think of it…unless a dog was a stray…but then even if it was a stray… Could he point a gun when there was a real possibility of rescue?
He couldn’t and that was something to remember. It was something to focus on other than the vision of the gaping shaft, the crumbling walls, oozing water, totally unstable.
They were rigging a rope ladder so he had something to keep his feet on, because finding footholds in shale walls reeked of stupidity and he wasn’t stupid. Or not completely stupid. The plan was for two groups to lower him, one group controlling the ladder, the other the harness.
Every movement he made would be controlled from above. All he could do was trust. But these were people he’d known all his life. His mother. His people.
Charlie?
He glanced across at her anguished face. For a moment, their gazes met and held.
Locked.
A silent promise.
‘I will come back to you,’ his gaze said and he was sure she got it. And his next thought was an almost a primeval response to her look of anguish. ‘I will come back and claim.’
How feudal was that? Feudal and sexist and totally inappropriate, he thought. Just lucky he didn’t say it out loud. But then… Had she sensed what he was thinking? The way her lips curved… Was that a smile?
Maybe he wouldn’t have to claim his feudal rights, he thought. Maybe the maiden would come willingly.
It was a good thought. No, it was a great thought, inappropriate or not. It was a thought to carry him over the lip of the shaft and into the blackness of the void below.
* * *
It was the longest wait of Charlie’s life. The team holding the ropes worked by inches. They were acutely aware of the crumbling structure of the shaft, that one false move, one solid bump if Bryn swung and hit the sides, could cave the whole thing in. They worked in almost total silence. Apart from the curt orders of the two in charge of ladder and harness, and the muffled words from the man being lowered, there was nothing.
They were dropping the ladder, the harness, the man, in measured steps. The two in charge set a beat to work to. One, two, down, one, two, down. Every downbeat meant the ropes were eked out a couple of inches at a time.
It was infinitely, agonisingly slow. For those in the background it was killingly slow.
Charlie was clutching Alice and Alice was clutching Charlie. Who knew what Alice was thinking? All Charlie knew was that they were almost conjoined, linked by their love of the man being lowered down the shaft.
Love. There was a huge concept.
Or maybe it wasn’t. How many songs were there in the world about love? How many forms did love take?
The first flurry of romantic love? The hormonal rush that blinded to a lover’s flaws? The love she’d thought she’d had for the man she’d once so disastrously married?
Or this, she thought, the idea embedding and growing as time stretched on? A love that was deep and abiding. A love that transcended romantic.
A love that said trust was bone deep.
She stood and watched Ewan, lying at the top of the shaft, pointing his torch downward, directing operations. Both teams were well back, lowering their ropes secured with planking. Only the ropes inching downward denoted anything was below.
Her whole world was below. It was a man descending into the blackness to save a dog that, whatever he said, wasn’t his. Flossie was her dog.
But it didn’t matter. She knew at some deep, instinctive level that he’d be doing the same if it weren’t her dog. She looked at the people around her, the tenant farmers, the workers from the Hall, even his mother, and she saw fear but she also saw total trust.
This man was…their man. Their trust and their love was absolute.
And what she was feeling right now bought into that. It was nothing to do with fear, she thought. It was so much more. It was as if something had washed through and left her completely, irreversibly changed.
‘Bryn,’ she whispered and it was so much more than a word.
It was a vow.
And then there was a sharp, muffled command from below. Both teams stilled and the whole world seemed to hold its breath. The silence went on and on. No one moved. No one spoke.
And then, finally…
‘Up.’ The single syllable was almost a grunt, as if a truly Herculean effort was being made. It was enough to start the teams again. Once again though, they worked with agonising slowness. There was just as much risk raising as in lowering, maybe more, because if he was carrying Flossie there’d be more weight.
She didn’t know if he was carrying Flossie. The teams would know because of the change in weight but Bryn was wasting no words, no effort, in reporting.
And Charlie wasn’t asking. She was no longer thinking of Flossie.
Bryn. Her love. Her man.
And finally he was nearing the top. There were curt orders from Ewan, because he still wasn’t safe. Dragging him over the edge could make things collapse. But Ewan and John were lying full length on the planking, grasping with a strength she couldn’t imagine. A limp bundle of fur was being passed up, seized, dragged backward.
She should rush forward. Flossie was her dog. Flossie was what this was all about. But other hands were taking Flossie. The vet was here, giving orders, carrying Flossie away from the shaft so she could see the damage.
But Charlie’s gaze was still locked on the shaft. On Bryn. On the final few inches.
He was being hauled upward, his arms grabbed, tugged backward to safety. He was standing. John and Ewan were half holding, half hugging, their grimed faces a mix of triumph and relief.
He was safe. He was standing on firm ground, looking around. Seeing his mother, giving her a faint smile. And then…seeing her.
Looking. Just looking.
And that look… The promise in that gaze… With it, the loneliness and distrust inside her cracked and then shattered—and then disappeared as if it had never been.
She smiled. It was a crazy, tear-filled smile, a smile she’d never known she possessed but it was his, all his.
And finally she walked forward, through the mud, across the planking, to take the man she loved into her arms.
It was the moment when Charlie Foster gave her heart for ever.
* * *
Flossie was headed for a night at the veterinary clinic. It was miraculous that she’d survived, but her injuries were a little more serious than when she’d had her encounter with the car. Her leg was broken this time, and she had myriad grazes. ‘She’ll be okay,’ the vet told them. ‘But a bit of sedation and some IV fluids will help her recover faster.’
They thanked everyone. Charlie hugged everyone. It was hard to hug when she was being hugged herself but from the moment he’d surfaced, Bryn had his arm around her. He seemed to need the contact.
That was fine by her. Contact… Body against body. Bryn.
He was by her side. He was safe.
Bryn.
Alice’s sedan proved no match for mud stirred by the vehicles of those arriving to help. It had to be abandoned to be collected in the morning so they drove home together. They drove in near silence—the emotions they were all feeling left little room for words. Bryn pulled up outside the dower house, helped his mother from the car, hugged her hard and then turned to Charlie.
‘There’s room in my bed tonight,’ he said simply and Alice smiled as if she’d expected those exact words. She kissed Charlie and then slipped through her front door and closed it behind her.
So Charlie came on home with him because…that was how it felt. Suddenly this vast mausoleum of a Hall was…home.
Because Bryn was there.
They showered, still almost in silence. Together. It felt right. It hardly even felt sexy. Bryn’s body showed the marks of rope burn, scratches where Flossie had struggled, grazes. Charlie helped him clean them, loving every mark.
‘Love,’ Bryn said softly as the final graze gave up its mud. And he tugged her into his arms, snagged towels and carried her up the grand staircase to the vast bedroom, to the four-poster bed that the Barons Carlisle of Ballystone Hall had slept in for generations.
‘Because it’s time we took our place where we belong,’ he told her.
He lowered her onto the sheets and she smiled and smiled. And then she claimed her man.
* * *
Her man. That was what it felt like, she thought as she woke in the soft dawn light. She was spooned in his arms; the warmth enveloping her was something she’d never felt before…
‘I’m in love,’ she whispered into the dawn, and the arms holding her tightened.
‘I hope so,’ Bryn growled. ‘If not we’re in trouble because this is your home. Now and for ever.’
Now and for ever. She let the words drift.
They were just words.
They were the most important words she’d ever heard.
But some things had to be said. This man had done nothing but give, while she…
‘Bryn, I didn’t trust you,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He turned her then, gently, so their faces were inches apart on the great down pillows. ‘Life’s taught you not to trust,’ he told her.
‘Life’s kicked you around, too.’ She hesitated but it had to be said. There was room for nothing but honesty now. ‘And death. So much tragedy…how can you still love?’
‘I was lucky,’ he said simply. ‘Those I loved gave me so much love in return.’ He leaned forward that last couple of inches and kissed her, tenderly, with all the love in the world. ‘You get love, you give love,’ he said softly. ‘It seems to me, Charlie bach, that it’s been lacking in your life. There was only your grandparents to love you. Now though… You have seven dogs, and a couple of cows arriving some time soon. You have Alice, who’s already crazy about you. And you have me. So that’s, let me see, eleven known love donors. With that much love coming your way, my Charlie, do you have enough to send some back my way?’
And there was only one answer to that. She tugged him into her and kissed and then there was no room for words for a very long time.
They slept again and when they woke…
‘I know I should do this properly,’ Bryn said sleepily, holding her close. ‘Fancy restaurant, orchestra, ring cunningly hidden in the chocolate soufflé…but if you feel we can get by without the soufflé… Charlie, will you marry me?’
Would she marry him? Would she wake beside him for the rest of their lives? Would she trust this man with her heart, with her love, with her future?
How could he ask such a question? The answer was all around them, an aura so strong surely he could see it. There was love in this room. Love and laughter and dogs and maybe kids and maybe even grandkids and wonder and hope and trials and joy.
Marriage… The joining together of two people who loved each other to the exclusion of all others.
Two people who trusted each other for life.
He was asking for an answer. He really didn’t know? She saw the trace of uncertainty in his eyes, the trace of doubt behind his eyes and she couldn’t bear it. She smiled and she smiled and her fingers touched his lips, his face. It was a battered face this morning, scratched and bruised.
She loved it. She loved him.
The question hung. Charlie, will you marry me?
‘How can you doubt it?’ she whispered. ‘Bryn, you’ve trusted me from the start but me…it’s taken me a while but I’m there now, with all my heart. Will I marry you? Yes, my love, I will.’
* * *
They loved again and then they slept, and woke when the sun was high and Alice was calling up the stairs.
‘Hey, you two, don’t you believe in answering the phone? I phoned the landline and your mobile phone. Nothing.’
‘I turned my phone off,’ Bryn whispered to Charlie. ‘You want to pretend we’re not here?’
There were dogs scratching at the door. Alice was still below stairs, obviously respecting their privacy—a bit—but by the sound of her voice she was full of import and Charlie wouldn’t put it past her to power up the stairs and burst right in.
‘My phone must have got wet down the shaft last night,’ Bryn called out. ‘Mum, can you take the dogs? Charlie and I are…busy.’
‘Busy!’
‘We’re also engaged,’ he called and Charlie almost choked at the thought of Alice’s face downstairs. But it seemed Alice was made of too stern a stuff to be distracted by a little thing like an engagement.
‘About time,’ she retorted. ‘But I have news.’
‘News?’
‘Thomas has been arrested in Thailand,’ she told them. ‘And we have an extradition treaty with Thailand. End of scams, Bryn. He’s coming home to face trial.’
‘Excellent,’ Bryn murmured and Charlie heard a gasp of what was surely indignation from below stairs.
‘Is that all you can say? Bryn, don’t you care?’
‘It’s good that he’s stopped from scamming,’ Bryn said, tugging Charlie close again. ‘But for the rest… Nope, don’t care.’
‘Bryn…’
‘I have other things to care about than my sordid uncle,’ Bryn said, smiling at Charlie. And such a smile… ‘I have many things to care about, the loveliest being in my arms right now. So, Mum, if you don’t mind…would you be good enough to take the dogs for a walk so I can get back to my caring?’
There was another gasp from downstairs and then a choke of laughter. But then…ever the mother. ‘You’re not holding her against her will, are you, Bryn? Charlie, are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ Charlie called back, choking on laughter. Choking on happiness. Choking on love. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
‘We’re both fine, Mum,’ Bryn called. ‘And we intend being fine for the rest of our lives so if it’s okay with you…fine starts now.’