Chapter Three

Laura laid down the French primer from which she had been reading in a halting voice. “How long will Papa be here?”

“I don’t know, Laura,” Eliza said, looking up from her knitting. “We haven’t discussed it. He did just arrive yesterday.”

“It would be ever so nice if he stayed.” Laura swung her legs back and forth, her eyes distant. “He doesn’t spend much time with us.”

“He’s always believed that men aren’t supposed to have much to do with their children. It’s how he was raised.”

“Was Grandfather like him? Was he always away, too?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Eliza frowned over a dropped stitch. “So was his mother, I’m afraid.”

“He must have been awfully lonely.”

“I don’t think he thinks so.” Of course he had been, though it was something she’d never thought of him. Robert always seemed self-possessed and assured. Once, though, he had been a child, left behind while his parents went jaunting off to London without him. As had Eliza. It was why she was determined to be with the children, so that they wouldn’t be brought up by strangers, so that they wouldn’t feel so lost and rootless as she sometimes did, even now.

“I don’t know why we’re talking about it,” Delia said. “He’ll go back to London as soon as he can.”

Eliza came out of her reverie. Delia sounded much too cynical for her age. “Perhaps not. Parliament will be ending its session soon. Clive will be home from school, too.”

“Oh, Clive. Of course he’ll stay home to see Clive.”

Eliza looked up again in surprise. Was Delia jealous of her brother? “He’s glad to see you, too, Delia.”

“But we’re not boys.”

“And thank heavens for that! Laura, please continue reading.” The girls glanced quickly at each other and, after a moment, Laura returned to the primer. Eliza paid her little mind, though, ignoring any and all errors. How long would Robert be home this time? They hadn’t talked about it last night, but then, talking had been the furthest thing from their minds. To her chagrin, that thought sent color surging into her face, making her lower her head to hide it. She was a married woman, not a green girl, to be embarrassed by such things. She had felt like a girl last night, though...

“Am I interrupting?” a voice said at the door, and Eliza jerked her head up, her eyes meeting Robert’s. For a moment he returned her gaze, and she was caught, unable to look away, knowing he was remembering, too. A knowing little smile touched his lips, and she dropped her head again.

“Papa, I can speak French,” Laura announced. “Do you want to hear?”

“Certainly. Do you always hear the girls’ lessons?” he asked Eliza, coming to sit next to her.

“No. Miss Stevenson has the headache, poor thing, and so I told her to stay abed.” She put her knitting down, pushing it aside, but not before she saw Robert’s eyes fasten on it and sharpen. He had guessed what it was, then, the fleecy white confection she would wrap around her new baby. And what he thought of that, she still didn’t know. “Was there something you wanted, Robert?”

“I thought I’d see what you were doing,” he said, almost diffidently, annoyed with himself. This was his house. He had slept in a bedroom down the hall and taken lessons in this very same room, yet he felt like an interloper. The girls were polite, and Eliza seemed to be on guard against him. Was it like this every time he came home? He quickly reviewed his memories of past homecomings and decided that this one was different. What was causing the constraint, however, was something he couldn’t even guess.

The girls were looking at him so uncertainly that he couldn’t bear it. Dashed if he were going to be pushed out of his own house. “I thought you’d like to hear about London,” he said, and for the next few moments held both girls transfixed with tales of what had happened in the city. Laura was enthralled by his story of the Laplanders who had come to England in the winter, bringing with them meat that had been frozen and was in a remarkable state of preservation. Whenever they went out in their outlandish coats of reindeer hide, he said, they attracted a tide of followers. Delia, disdaining such stories, was far more interested in hearing about Princess Charlotte’s wedding to Prince Leopold of Coburg, which Robert had attended. The bride wore silver and white, he said, obligingly dredging up details from his memory, and old Queen Charlotte had been splendid in gold tissue. And everyone was wearing the new Kendal bonnet or Coburg hat...

“Papa.” Laura had been shifting impatiently during this recital of current fashions. “Did you bring us any presents?”

“Laura!” Eliza exclaimed, looking up from her knitting.

“Of course I did.” He smiled, rising. “Have I ever forgotten?”

Laura dropped the primer, her face bright, and scrambled down from the table. “See, Delia? I told you he didn’t forget. What did you bring me?”

“Laura,” Eliza chided again, more forcefully this time, and the little girl subsided. “That was nice of you, Robert.”

“You know I always bring something, Eliza. Since I don’t get home as often as I’d like.”

“Mm-hm.” Eliza nodded, and he felt that little spurt of annoyance again. Damned if he were going to defend himself.

“I have something for you, too, Liza.”

“Give the girls theirs first,” she suggested, smiling, and after a moment he smiled back. Even Delia looked excited by the prospect of a gift.

“Very well.” He rose. From the hallway he produced several lumpy, tissue-wrapped packages. “For you, Delia. And you, Laura.”

“Oh! A doll!” Laura exclaimed, tearing open the paper. “Oh, look, Mama, her gown is like one of yours.”

“Very pretty, Laura. Did you choose it yourself, Robert?”

“Of course I did. And wrapped them, too.”

“Ah,” Eliza said, sounding amused, but this time he didn’t mind.

“Oh,” Delia said, her voice awed. She was more careful, more deliberate in unwrapping her package, but now she held it up, a fan of ivory and lace and gilt. “Oh, Daddy, it’s so pretty!”

Daddy. She hadn’t called him that in years. “I thought you’d like it, poppet.”

“Oh, I do!” She held it before her face, peeping at him over it so coquettishly that he was startled. Delia was no longer the little girl he remembered. Once again he had the dismaying sense that his family were strangers.

“Your first grown-up fan, Delia,” Eliza said, smiling. “That was thoughtful of you, Robert.”

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve turned into a young lady, Delia.”

“Where’s Mama’s present?” Laura demanded.

Robert smiled. “Here.” From an inner pocket of his coat he withdrew a long, narrow box of midnight-blue velvet. “For you, Liza.”

Eliza’s heart sank. Slowly, she took the box. Slowly, knowing her family was watching in anticipation, she opened it, dreading what she would find. Her gasp of surprise and pleasure, though, was genuine. “Oh, Robert,” she said, her voice not quite steady. Inside the box was a magnificent necklace of sapphires and diamonds set in gold. Robert’s taste in jewelry was exquisite, but this time he had outdone even himself. It was beautiful, and she hated it. “Oh, ‘tis lovely.”

“Do you like it?” he asked as the girls gathered ‘round, their eyes as bright as any jewel.

“It’s lovely,” she repeated, and because she knew it was expected of her, clasped it around her neck.

“Oh, Mama,” Delia said, sounding awed. “You’ll need a new gown to wear with it.”

“A London gown,” Robert said, and their eyes met. Anger flared within Eliza, anger she tamped down rather than display before the girls. How vexing of him! She liked jewels as much as anyone, yet he knew quite well that she had nowhere to wear them. Unless she went to London. Apparently he was going to reopen the old argument, about her staying in Devon with the children. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d used a gift for such a purpose.

“I don’t think I’ll buy any new gowns quite yet,” she said, rising and crossing the room to kiss Robert on the cheek. “Thank you, Robert, it is beautiful. I think I’d best put it away, though. It’s not really suitable for a picnic.”

“A picnic?” he said, following her into the hall.

“Yes. I promised the girls that since Miss Stevenson is ill we could go down to the beach and picnic there.”

He frowned. “Should you be doing that just now, Eliza?”

“Yes, I feel perfectly fine. It isn’t a difficult walk.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“What?” Eliza looked up, startled, as they reached her room. “You needn’t, Robert. I know you dislike eating outside.”

He smiled. “I’ll survive this once. I don’t think you should go down the cliff path alone.”

“I can manage.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Besides, I want to. You’re always asking me to spend more time with the girls.”

“Of course,” she said, after a moment, and turned away, reaching up to unclasp the necklace.

“You don’t like it, do you,” he said abruptly from the doorway, his back turned.

Eliza paused, her hands dropping. “I like the necklace, Robert. I just don’t like what it represents.”

“Aren’t I allowed to give you a gift?”

“Of course you are, but what this means, and now—”

“I had no idea you were increasing, as you know,” he snapped. “I’ll leave you to get ready now.”

“Robert—”

“We’ll leave in half an hour,” he said, and strode away.

“Robert,” she repeated, but he was gone. Ooh, he always did this to her! Whenever the conversation threatened to get too serious, too painful, he always walked out, leaving her simmering with anger and unspoken words. Now, adding insult to injury, he had just taken command of their expedition to the beach. What else, she wondered, dragging a brush through her fine, wispy hair and bundling it into a knot at her neck, would he take charge of while he was here? It was almost enough to make her wish he’d return to London.

Almost. Eliza set down the brush and stared at her reflection, hesitantly touching the necklace that still lay at her throat. Another gift. It was the way Robert showed his affection, by giving extravagant presents, rather than gifts of the heart. When first they had been married, that hadn’t mattered, but now it did. Because he would leave again. Nothing she could do would stop it, and it hurt. No present, no matter how expensive, could salve that pain.

Eliza looked at herself in the mirror and then raised her chin. She would survive it; she always had, no matter how bad things got. This time she had another reason to hold on, her child. In the meantime she would do all she could to protect herself and her children from the pain that would come with Robert’s departure. If that meant holding a part of herself aloof from him, then that was what she would do. No matter how much it hurt.

With that, she pulled off the necklace and swept out of the room.