Adam studied the house again. About five miles to the east of Winchester at a guess, and not many villages nearby. Five miles it could be ten times that, he thought.
But why was he here? Suppose Keen suspected something, or Zenoria had blurted out the truth. He made himself face it without embroidering the facts. He had taken her. A moment of despairing passion when each had thought they had lost someone loved in the Golden Plover.
He had taken her. Had she refused him he dared not think what might have happened. He would have been ruined, and it would have broken his uncle's heart. Of her they would have said, no smoke without fire. The easy way for the liars and the doubters.
He often remembered his fury when he had heard the stranger at the inn insulting the Bolitho name. Each time he had come to the same desperate conclusion. I nearly killed him. Another instant and I would have done it.
You fool. Go back while you can. Even as he thought it his heels dug into the grey's flanks and he was trotting down a slope towards the tall gates, each with a bronze stag on the top. The family was very rich and influential, and Keen's father was known to think his son mad for remaining in the navy when he could have almost any career he wanted.
An old gardener was stooping amongst flower beds, his barrow nearby. Adam touched his hat as he rode up the sweeping drive, and noticed that there was a long fowling piece propped against the barrow. This place must be very isolated, servants or not, he thought. How would an untamed girl like Zenoria settle to this after Cornwall 's wild coastline?
The house was even larger and more imposing than he had imagined. Pillars, a magnificent portico adorned with carvings of lions and strange beasts, and steps clean enough to eat from.
He would have smiled but for his inner tension. The old grey house at Falmouth was shabby by comparison. A place that welcomed you. Where you could live.
A small, wizened man darted from somewhere and held the reins while Adam dismounted.
"Give him some water. I shall not be long." The man nodded, his face completely blank.
He did not turn away from the house as the man led the big horse around the corner of the building. He thought his nerve would break if he did.
One of the paired doors swung inwards even before he could reach it, and a prim-looking woman with keys at her waist stood facing him without warmth.
"Captain Adam Bolitho, ma'am. I have letters for Captain Keen." Or was he already promoted to flag rank?
"Are you expected, sir?"
"No. Not exactly." Used to sailors jumping to his every command, he was taken aback by her chilling tone.
She remained firmly in the centre of the doorway. "Captain Keen is away, sir." She may have considered telling him where he was, but changed her mind. "Will you leave a message?"
There were voices and then he heard Zenoria call, "What is it, Mrs. Tombs?"
Adam felt his heart beating faster. The housekeeper was aptly named.
The door opened wide and she was there, staring at him. She wore a simple flowered gown and her dark hair was piled above her ears. Her only adornments were some pearl earrings and a pendant, which he guessed was worth a small fortune. He did not quite know what he had been expecting, but she looked like a child dressing up in adult's clothing. Playing a part.
"I – I am sorry, er, Mrs. Keen. I have some letters." He fumbled for them, but his cuff caught on the short fighting sword he always favoured. "My ship is still at Portsmouth. I thought '
The forbidding housekeeper asked, "Is everything in order, ma'am?"
"Yes." Zenoria tossed her head as he had seen her do when her hair had hung down like glossy silk. "Why should it not be?"
"Very well, ma'am." She stood back to allow the newcomer to enter. "If you require anything…" She glided away soundlessly on the marble floor but her words remained like a warning.
Zenoria stared at him for several seconds. "You know you are not welcome here, Captain." She glanced around as if afraid someone would hear. But the house was completely silent, as if it were listening. Watching.
"I am so sorry. I shall go directly." He saw her draw back as he took a pace towards her. "Please. I didn't mean to offend you. I thought your husband would be here." He was losing her, even before he had made any contact.
She was very composed, dangerously so. "He is in London. At the Admiralty. He will be back this evening." Her eyes blazed. "You should not have come. You must know that."
A door opened and closed discreetly and she said, "Come into the library."
She walked ahead of him, very erect and small in this great cathedral of a house. The girl with moonlit eyes, as her uncle had called her.
There were books piled in little heaps on a table. She said in an almost matter-of-fact voice, "All mine. Waiting for our new house when it is ready for us." She stared at the tall windows where a bee was tapping on the glass. They are so kind to me here… but I have to ask. I have no carriage and I am told not to ride alone. There are footpads and they say deserters always close by. It is like the desert! "
Adam thought of the gardener and his musket. "When will you leave here?" He barely dared to speak.
She shrugged. Even that sent a pain to his heart. This year, next year I am not sure. We will live near Plymouth. Not Cornwall, but close. In truth I find this life daunting. The family is away in London for the most part, and Val's youngest sister never wants to leave the baby alone."
Adam tried to remember the sister. She was the one who had lost her husband at sea.
"I see nobody. Only when Val comes back can I…" She seemed to realise what she was saying and exclaimed, "And what of you? Still the gallant hero? The scourge of the enemy?" But the fire refused to kindle.
He said, "I think of you so much I am almost beside myself." A shadow passed the window and he saw a girl carrying the baby across a neatly trimmed lawn. "It's so little, " he said.
"You are surprised, are you? You thought perhaps he might be older even your own son?"
She was taunting him, but when he turned towards her he saw the real tears in her eyes.
"I wish to God he were mine. Ours! "
He heard his horse being led to the front of the house again. The housekeeper would feel happier if he left without further delay. She would likely tell Keen about his visit.
He laid the two letters on the table. "For your husband. They were my key to your door. But I failed…"
"What did you expect? That I would take you to my bed merely because it is you, because you always get what you want?"
He picked up his hat and pushed his unruly hair from his forehead. He did not see her start at the familiar gesture. "I wanted only you, Zenoria." It was the first time he had spoken her name here. "I did not have the right, or the courage to tell you that I loved you."
She pulled a silk bell-cord. "Please go." She watched him move to the library door, her figure very still. "Perhaps God will forgive both of us, but I can never forgive you."
The door closed, and for several minutes she stood quite still until she heard a groom calling out his thanks to the young captain for the coins that had been put into his hand. Only then did she take a small book from one of the piles, and after a further hesitation she opened it. Pressed in the middle were a pair of wild roses, now as flat as silk. He had given them to her on that ride, on his birthday. She said to the silent room, "And I loved you, Adam. I always will."
Then she dried her eyes and adjusted her gown before going to the double doors and out into the sunshine.
The old gardener was still working unhurriedly. Only his barrow and musket had moved. Along the drive and through the gates she could see the road. It was empty. As if none of it had happened.
She heard the child crying, the placating sounds from Val's sister, who had wanted one of her own.