Читать книгу The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection - Rebecca Winters - Страница 84

Chapter Thirteen

The past week had been a whirlpool of activity. Maureen’s delight at her news, her father’s quiet pleasure at having three daughters now in advantageous unions and Jamie’s thrilled disbelief that the papa he had so often spoken of was promising to buy him a horse when they arrived at St Auburn.

After their wedding Cassandra had been inundated with calling cards, every door into society now open to her, though Nathaniel seemed distracted by his own work with the Service. She confronted him about it late on the third night after their marriage when she had gone down to the library to find him surrounded by papers.

‘You look busy.’

‘Busy missing some clue that I am certain is right in front of me,’ he returned and stood.

‘It is the girls from the river and Sarah?’

He nodded. ‘Have you ever heard of the name Scrivener Weeks?’

‘No. He is the man who you think killed them?’

‘I do. I went to Wallingford and discovered that a few months ago another young woman was murdered there. A tall, dark and well-dressed man signed into the tavern late on the night the body was found, using the name of Scrivener Weeks. He left on the London coach early the next morning. No one can truly remember what he looked like.’

‘He could be anyone.’

‘Not quite. I think he is a member of the Venus Club.’

‘Like Uncle Reginald?’ Another thought occurred. ‘That is why you and Stephen Hawkhurst joined up in the first place?’

He smiled. ‘It is easier to keep an eye on people at close quarters. For what it is worth I have discounted your uncle.’

‘Why?’

‘He was ill with some sort of a chest infection when the girls were found on the riverbank here in London. He has the same physician as Hawkhurst does and the doctor was adamant Reginald Northrup could not have left his sick bed for a fortnight.’

‘How many members does the club have?’

‘Sixty-eight, and I have a group of thirteen names who fit the description of Scrivener Weeks.’

‘We leave for St Auburn tomorrow. Could Stephen Hawkhurst take over until we return?’

‘He will. I have told him my thoughts and given him the names. Perhaps he will see something that I have not.’

‘Sarah would be thankful to you for your time and effort in finding her killer.’

‘I haven’t yet.’

‘But you will.’

At that she took his hand and led him upstairs.

* * *

Late the next afternoon Cassandra could barely believe that they were almost at the principal country seat of the Lindsays, the fields about them rolling and green.

‘Will we be there soon, Papa?’

She smiled. Jamie never spoke to Nathaniel without adding on ‘Papa’. He had lost four years of his father and now he was making up for it. Sitting on Nathaniel’s knee, he looked at the various landmarks that were pointed out.

‘I used to swim in that river when I was very young. My father made wooden boats and we would sail them in the summer. Often they got stuck so I would jump in to rescue them.’

‘Can you make me a boat, Papa? We could do that, too.’

Cassandra’s heart swelled as her husband looked over at her, kissing the top of Jamie’s head as he did so. Maureen, Kenyon, Rodney and her father would be arriving the day after tomorrow and she was pleased to have a couple of days to settle in. The only cloud on the horizon was Nathaniel’s grandfather for they had not heard a word from him.

‘The first sight of the house can be seen past this rise,’ Nathaniel said and lifted Jamie higher. Cassie leaned forward to see it, too, and an enormous Georgian mansion materialised out of the distance, the six pillars across the front edifice flanked by two plainer wings, sitting on a hill. The tree-lined driveway wound towards it, a lake of grand proportions to one side.

‘St Auburn is beautiful.’ She could not keep the worry from her words.

‘And big,’ Jamie added.

‘It’s home,’ Nathaniel said and reached for her hand. ‘Our home.’

He had placed three of his staff into running the ledgers for the Daughters of the Poor and with his sizeable cash donation Cassie knew that all the work she had done would be left in competent hands. She would still hold regular meetings with Elizabeth and the staff, but the night-time rambles had ended and part of her was glad. This was a new chapter of her life and one she relished.

A line of servants had come out to greet them and there at the front door was an elderly man who Cassie reasoned would be Nathaniel’s grandfather. He leaned upon a stick and watched them carefully as the conveyance drew to a halt.

Jamie was out first, the sun on his hair mirroring his father’s and a sense of urgency and life on show that he had inherited as well. He looked right at home here, the tall yellow walls behind him with their meticulously pointed stone and inset windows. No small task for the masons, this building would have taken years and years to construct.

The old man came forward, his face devoid of expression. ‘You have come back,’ he said.

‘We have come home,’ Jamie cried. ‘This is going to be my home now with the lake and boats.’

‘Indeed?’

Such curling indifference had the effect of bringing Jamie closer to Nathaniel, fingers entwined in the expensive superfine of his father’s trousers.

‘William, this is my wife, Cassandra, and my son, Jamie.’

Pale silvered eyes whisked across her, calculating and assessing, and then they travelled over Jamie, the first glimmer of emotion showing.

‘Well, at least he looks like a St Auburn. Does he like horses?’

‘I have not ever ridden one, sir.’

‘Grandpa,’ he corrected. ‘Call me Grandpa. Your father used to.’

A rebuke coined within the softness of memory. Nathaniel’s hand tightened about her own, and Cassie hoped that whatever had gone wrong between them might soon be resolved.

After being introduced to the housekeeper and butler they walked along the line of other lesser servants, each one in a crisp and spotless uniform and all with generous welcomes. Once inside the Lindsay patriarch gestured for them to join him in a salon that ran along the front of the house, a room decorated in blues and greens.

‘I was surprised that you finally realised St Auburn to be a duty you could encompass in your busy life, Nathaniel. Have you had enough of lying around in foreign taverns?’

Her husband’s languid smile did not quite reflect his words. ‘Protecting England from its enemies requires more than a nominal effort, William, though I do admit to a few drinks.’

Strong brandy to quell the pain of a gunshot wound in his side, but only water a few hours later as she had tried to clean it.

She wanted to say this to an old man who had much to thank his grandson for. She wanted him to see the hero in Nathaniel that she so often saw, a spy who had spent years undercover and in places that had hardly been kind. But she did not say any of this because she had no idea as to whether her husband would thank her for it or not. So she stayed quiet.

‘The rooms on the first floor have been made up for you. Dinner will be at eight.’

With that he simply got up and walked away, the tap of his stick on the polished tiles becoming fainter and fainter.

‘My grandfather has never been a man to show his feelings. This attitude, I suppose, was the reason my father and mother left here when I was young. They probably got the same sort of welcome we just did.’

‘Does he not like us, Papa? Is he angry we are here?’

‘No, he loves you, Jamie, but he is old and has gone to his quarters to have a rest.’ Pulling his son up into his arms, he turned towards Cassie. ‘Shall I show you to our room, my lady?’

‘Certainly, my lord.’ Suddenly all the politics of family squabbles did not matter at all. Tonight they would be together in a home that was theirs for good. She couldn’t wait for the evening to come.

The chamber Nathaniel led them to was beautiful, with wide French doors leading out to a substantial balcony, pots festooned with greenery and flowers. Like in France, she thought, and looked across at the view. It was majestic. The far-off hills. The lake. The trees. The farm fields that went on and on for ever.

Jamie’s room was a little farther down the corridor, flanked by the smaller nanny’s quarters and a maid’s room. To one side of Jamie’s bed a whole row of old wooden toys were arranged on low shelves.

‘They were once my father’s. William must have instructed the servants to bring them down from the attic.’ Nathaniel looked surprised.

‘Did you play with them, too?’ she asked as Jamie bent to draw a wooden train along the parquet flooring.

‘I did. My grandfather was never very keen on the idea, though, for he thought I might break them. Perhaps he trusts you more, Jamie.’

‘I will be very careful, Papa.’

‘I know you will.’

* * *

Nat thought that the smile on Cassandra’s face looked tightly drawn. She was obviously shocked by his grandfather’s behaviour and by St Auburn, too. Most people on first seeing the place had the same sort of disbelief, but it was one of those houses that had grown over generations and there had always been plenty of money in the coffers of the Lindsays.

Plenty of money and not a lot of love. William had seen to that. He would get Cassie and Jamie settled and then he would go and find his grandfather. It was one thing for William to be rude to him, but quite another to be contrary with his wife and son. He would simply not put up with it.

But other things began to play on his mind, too. The way the sun slanted in upon Cassie’s hair and the beauty of her face in profile. Crossing the room, he brought her close.

‘Thank you for coming here with me. I am not sure if I would want to face it alone.’

‘I think he is sad, your grandfather. How old were your parents when they died?’

‘Thirty-four and twenty-eight.’

‘Young, then. Imagine what that must have been like. Did he have a wife?’

‘No. Margaret Lindsay died after my father left St Auburn.’

‘Two terrible losses. And then the loss of you, as well, to the British Service and the further worry of the only family left to him never coming home.’

He smiled into her hair. ‘I was about to go and growl at him. Now I am not so certain I should.’ Nat had seen William’s lack of feeling in terms of his own grief when he had lost his parents, but with Cassie’s words a different understanding dawned. Imagine if he were to lose both her and Jamie. Would he still be able to function? He doubted it. Across her shoulders his son played with his new toys and beyond that again through the window the great lands of St Auburn spread out before him.

Home.

Here.

In Cassandra’s arms, the scent of violets and woman and the promise of the passionate hours of night not far off.

‘If this doesn’t work we don’t have to stay. There are plenty of other Lindsay properties.’

‘But there is only one great-grandfather, Nathaniel, and Jamie needs to know him.’

* * *

Dinner that evening was a myriad of different emotions: William’s distance, Cassandra’s wariness and Nathaniel’s equanimity. The room itself was beautiful with its carved table and tapestried chairs. On the wall around them were paintings from ground to ceiling displaying the images of relatives long dead. Their facial expressions looked about as happy as William’s did as he sat at one end of the table.

‘It is strange that you did not bring your family up to meet me sooner, Nathaniel.’

‘We were married in France almost five years ago, but lost one another soon after. We resaid our vows a week ago.’

That brought a light to the old Earl’s eyes and for the first time that evening a gleam of interest showed.

‘There was a battle and a misunderstanding. I thought Cassandra had perished and she thought that I had, too. We met again only a handful of weeks ago by chance.’

‘So you did not know your son?”

‘I didn’t.’

‘He looks exactly as you did when you were that age. I should have some likenesses that were drawn at the time somewhere if you want to see them.’ This was addressed at her.

‘I should love to, my lord.’

‘I will have them found tomorrow. There are other things, too, that I remember, a swing and a slide and a small rocking horse. Did he enjoy the toys in his room?’

Nat cleared his throat. ‘He did. Thank you for thinking of it.’

‘The boy and his mother can come with me on the morrow and we will go exploring for the rest of the toys that you and your father used to play with.’

A generous allowance and the first step into a truce from the battle of wits that Nathaniel and his grandfather seemed to be playing. Cassandra hoped that there would be many more across the next few days and weeks.

* * *

Much later Nathaniel and Cassandra lay in bed, holding each other and listening to the sound of a large house settling for the night: a clock in a distant hallway ringing out the lateness, the last swish of a maid’s skirt as she went by on the final errands of the evening and a log in the fire shifting into a quieter burn. Jamie was fast asleep in his room. Nathaniel had tucked him in, all the love and concern of a father who wanted to savour the small moments he had so far missed in his care.

An hour earlier Nat had lifted her up in his arms, too, and placed her on his bed, positioning the frothy nothingness of her lacy nightgown just so.

‘You cannot know how much I have longed for this moment, Cassie. To see you here at St Auburn as my wife.’ He clasped her hand and turned the wedding ring that he’d had resized in London. ‘We have done everything so far all the wrong way around. But from now on I mean to get it right.’

She shook her head. ‘You have, my darling, all the way through. Ever since you first found me and took me out of Nay with a bullet hole in your side.’

Standing naked in the half-light of the fire, he looked like a large, strong panther, circling for all that she might give him, muscles shadowed and harsh. The tattoo stood out as did the white scars of battle. Her knight. Her hero.

Opening her arms, she brought him against her. This was the bed and the room that they would live in together for all the rest of their lives. When tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, he pulled back in question.

‘It is happiness, Nathaniel, only that.’

His forefinger came up to gently wipe away the moisture. ‘I will love you for ever, Cassandra Sandrine Mercier Northrup.’ The troth was given with a solemn honesty before his mouth closed down on hers.

* * *

The belltower attic was a place of wonder, a high-beamed room of generous proportion and a thousand forgotten things in it. With a new morning the old Earl seemed more fleet footed despite needing to manoeuvre around rolls of material and piles of papers. The toys were stacked on large, low shelves, numerous versions of balls and trains and soldiers and forts. One look at Jamie’s face told her that they might be here a while.

‘I like the big train best, Grandpa.’

The word grandpa seemed to sink into the deep lines of his face and flatten them out. ‘I think if I look there are tracks for it somewhere.’

Cassie glanced around. ‘I am sure Jamie feels as if all his Christmas days have come at once.’

‘I think he may deserve it. Three years without a father is a long time.’

‘Almost four,’ she said quietly. ‘His birthday is soon.’

They were interrupted by a squeal of delight. ‘Look, Grandpa, look what it can do.’ He pulled the string behind the head of a large wooden puppet and the garish mouth opened to reveal a full set of yellowing teeth.

‘That used to be my favourite, too,’ William replied, bringing a large white kerchief from his pocket to dab at his eyes. As Jamie continued to explore, William started to speak of the past. ‘Nathaniel is very like his father was, and forgiveness is not an easily won thing. When Geoffrey died, a part of me did, too, and I lost the little piece of him that I still had left in Nathaniel. Now it might be too late to find each other again.’

Cassie shook her head. ‘Family should always be forgiven no matter what happens between them, for blood is thicker than insult or misconception. It only takes honesty.’

He smiled. ‘My grandson was indeed lucky to find you.’

‘He rescued me from a desperate situation and he did not judge me as he could so easily have done. His job there in France was a hard and dangerous one and if he hadn’t come when he did...’ She stopped, the horror of what might have been evident. ‘England is fortunate to have someone like your grandson protecting its interests, and you should be proud that he carries your family name with such honour. I know I am.’

‘I should have known, of course, for Geoffrey was a good man, too. It was just after my wife passed on that I felt so marooned and lost, and in my sorrow the happiness of my son’s family gave me no relief. I pushed them away and never got them back.’

‘Nathaniel did not come here to St Auburn again?’

‘Oh, indeed, he did for a time after his parents died but by then we were set in our distance from each other and we barely talked. Later he wanted to modernise the place and I was determined to leave things as they were. After a while he hardly ever came home.’

‘Well, we are here to stay now, and you will have all the chance in the world to talk with him. If you told him what you have just told me...’

She stopped as he nodded his head, and Jamie came up to him with a small boat complete with sails and ropes in his hands.

‘Papa spoke about this in the carriage.’

‘He did?’ William took the craft and turned it this way and that. ‘Your father’s father made this, Jamie. If you bring it down we might be able to have a try at sailing the craft on the lake.’

‘I will jump in and rescue it if it gets stuck, Grandpa.’

‘Then we certainly have a deal.’

* * *

Maureen, Kenyon, Rodney and Lord Cowper arrived in the middle of the following morning, her uncle Reginald and his friend Christopher Hanley unexpectedly behind them in another conveyance. Nathaniel looked less than happy with the new arrivals as she glanced up at him. Something seemed wrong.

‘I saw your father in London yesterday,’ Reginald explained when the carriage stopped, ‘and told him of my plans to head to the coast. When he asked if I would like to call in here at St Auburn for an hour or two, I was most grateful. I hope having Hanley here, too, will not upset anyone.’

The old earl looked about as pleased as Nathaniel did, and the arrival of Stephen Hawkhurst seemed to heighten the awkwardness yet again. Cassandra did not fail to see the look that went between her husband and his friend as they turned inside, and the tension seemed to emanate from the presence of Christopher Hanley.

* * *

Christopher Hanley sought her out an hour later as drinks and a light repast were being served in the front salon.

‘You will not be so involved with your charity from now on, I suppose, Lady Lindsay? Being here should take up much of your time.’

‘No, in that you are wrong. I shall be as busy with it as I ever was, and London is not far.’

‘Was there ever any sign of Sarah Milgrew and her sister’s killer?’

‘No, nothing, though we are still hopeful of finding some clue to help us.’

‘Your father continues to fund the Daughters of the Poor, then?’

‘Indeed he does, and Nathaniel is involved, too. My husband has brought Stephen Hawkhurst in for added assistance.’

Hawk watched them now, Cassie saw, his eyes devouring Hanley’s stance and face and a small worm of uneasiness turned in her stomach. Something wasn’t right, but she could not quite put her finger upon it. She was pleased when her uncle came to claim his friend in conversation, allowing her to move away.

‘You look worried.’ William had joined her over by the windows. ‘I knew Hanley’s parents and they were not a happy couple. The father had a way with women of the night and the mother ran off with an Italian merchant and never returned to England.’

‘A difficult upbringing for him, then?’ Nathaniel had heard the last of the conversation as he came up behind her.

‘You have had dealings with him?’ William sounded interested in his grandson’s answer.

‘He has the unfortunate habit of poking his nose in other people’s business. Suffice it to say he did Cassandra and me a favour in Whitechapel, but it could have been different.’

Uncle Reginald seemed to be making much of conversing with her father and for the first time in months Papa appeared happy. She supposed she should overlook the presence of the others here for an hour or two for it was good to see Papa smiling.

When Kenyon asked Nathaniel for a tour of the grounds of St Auburn everyone decided to go with them. Outside the sky was blue and the sun warm, and having partaken of food and drink a small exercise was desirable. Cassie was interested to see how Nathaniel shepherded Hanley, in particular, out through the front door.

Jamie was fractious though with all the excitement and so Cassie decided to stay back with him. A rest might see him through the afternoon pursuits and then he could have an early bedtime.

Bedtime.

She wished it were later already and that the hour to retire was here. Catching Nathaniel’s eyes, she saw he watched her mount the stairs and she blushed with the warmth of his observance. Would there ever be a time when she could stand on the other side of a room fully dressed and in the company of others and not feel...desperate for him? She hoped not.

William, too, had decided to stay indoors because he found the heat oppressive. Concern marred Cassie’s happiness. She prayed he would stay well and healthy enough to be a part of their family celebrations and outings for many years to come. They had only just found him again, after all, and underneath the gruff exterior was a man with a soft heart.

* * *

Half an hour later, sitting next to her sleeping son and thinking about her day, a new thought surfaced. Christopher Hanley had mentioned something about Sarah Milgrew, and Cassie sought to remember his words exactly.

He had asked about Sarah and her sister’s killer. She sat forward, trying to pinpoint her uneasiness. The sister? Horror filled her. How had he known anything about Sarah’s sister? The police themselves had not mentioned this and there had never been an identification carried out on the bodies of the earlier victims.

Oh, granted, Sarah had spoken of her sister’s disappearance and Nathaniel had been interested in the gown of one of the drowned girls, but there had been no other information offered. Besides, the note that had arrived for Sarah the day she had disappeared alluded to information about knowing the whereabouts of her sibling, not the demise of her.

‘My God.’

Standing, she indicated to a maid outside in the corridor to come in and sit with Jamie. Christopher Hanley was the tall, dark and well-dressed man. She was suddenly sure of it. He had been in Brown Street off Whitechapel Road when Nathaniel and she had found the body in the brothel, and the toff seen at the St Katharine Docks matched his description exactly.

Peering out the window on the stairwell, she noticed the group with Nathaniel to be perusing the formal gardens, but she could not see Christopher Hanley with them.

Fright made her heart beat faster as she hurried towards the front door. She had to get to Nathaniel to tell him what she suspected.

She had almost come into the wide hallway when a voice stopped her.

‘I had a feeling I should return.’ The sound came from behind and with all the effort in the world Cassandra made herself turn. She barely recognised the urbane and civilised lord, a sneer on his face and cold outrage in his eyes. Fear congealed in her throat and she could not hide her fright. ‘I made a mistake talking to you earlier and I can see that you picked up on it.’ Hanley’s voice lacked any remorse whatsoever.

‘You killed Sarah Milgrew and her sister. Why?’ An explanation might buy her some moments for surely Nathaniel would be returning soon.

‘They knew who I was. I thought after the first one I was safe and then the second girl turned up. I had killed their cousin in Wallingford, you see, and they remembered me.’

‘And the man who was found dead at Brown Street?’

‘Had come to London at the behest of their father to ask around and find out what had happened to the older sister. I couldn’t let him ruin things.’

‘So you tried to ruin me instead. It was you who sent the note asking me to come to the boarding house.’

‘A miscalculation, I was to think later, for I did not realise that you knew Lindsay so well. Without him there, I might have succeeded. When he visited me in London the other day I knew by his questions that he suspected something.’

‘Yet you still came to St Auburn?’

‘To find out the lay of the land, Lady Lindsay.’

At that he moved forward and simply twisted her arm hard up behind her back. ‘If you shout out, I will go straight up to your son’s room and break his neck, do you understand? Like a chicken in a hen house. You or him. Make your choice.’

Fear ripped resistance into pieces. Cassie would wait till they were outside before trying to flee. Nodding, she went with him, past the first door and then the second, no servant in sight, the coast clear for his escape.

The third door was different. William Lindsay, the old Earl of St Auburn, was waiting in all readiness and with a shout he raised his cane and brought it down hard upon Hanley’s head before falling.

The ungainly upending might have saved all their lives, she was to think later, for William took a sideboard full of bottles and glasses down with him and the noise was enough to wake up the dead. Blood dripped down into his closed eyes and Cassandra was certain that he had broken every bone in his body.

Hanley did not waver, finding an open window in the next salon and pushing her through it headfirst where she landed heavily onto an uneven brick wall and lost her breath.

‘With you out of the way my secret will be safe and a quick escape to France will see to my own future.’

Shock had made him shake, and she felt his wrath course through her as he dragged her into the bushes surrounding the lake. Without hesitation, he pushed her into the water.

Icy coldness settled quickly.

Then his hands were about her throat, squeezing and squeezing. She tried to fight, she did, tried to stop him as the green of the water closed over her head, but already the world had begun to narrow into darkness. Sharp rocks dug into her back.

Floating. Peacefulness. The last release of bubbles as the warmth of death became brighter.

Then there was a noise, a hard punch and scream and a further whip of knuckles. The grip about her throat released and Cassie was lifted gently from the cold to be brought up into the arms of her husband where he cradled her against his warmth.

‘It is all right, my love. You are safe.’

She was coughing, long, deep gasps of coughing, the air hard to find and the cold making it harder again. Her throat ached and her back had been bruised as Hanley had forced her down, but she was alive.

Alive.

Then she was crying, huge throaty sobs, her hands entwined in the fabric of his jacket.

‘Your...gr-gr-grandfather tr-tried to s-save me.’

‘I know, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk just now. I will take you back to the house and a bath will be drawn.’

A bath. Warmth. She gritted her teeth together to try to stop the dreadful shaking and felt the heat from his skin beneath her cheek.

* * *

Nat lifted Cassie, making certain that he averted his gaze from the dark red bruises that were gouged into her throat and from the cut beneath her eye. If Hanley had not been unconscious, he would have hit him yet again. Her hair was tangled with weed from the lake, the mud at the bottom smeared across her face and shoulders.

So damn close.

Another moment and they could not have saved her. He looked over at his grandfather, worse for wear from his upending, and saw the same thoughts in the opaque eyes. With a smile, he bent his head. In homage and in gratitude. Without William’s quick-thinking actions...?

He shook away the horror.

Cassie was still crying, but her sobs were softer now. Her breathing had eased a little, too, and the pale white of her skin was rosier.

Her colour was returning and her fright receding. He was glad Kenyon was there to help his grandfather walk, the back of his head already showing signs of a bruised swelling. Maureen had taken his other side and she was speaking to him in the quiet and restful tones of one who seldom panicked.

A family that would be there for each other when the times got tough. A group of people joined by blood and love. He kissed his wife’s cold forehead as he strode up the steps of St Auburn and the startled servants came running.

* * *

He found his grandfather in the library an hour later, sitting and looking out of the window with a heavy bandage around his head.

‘William.’ Today the word did not sit upon his tongue with the ease that it always had. ‘Grandfather,’ he amended and saw the old man turn.

‘Is your wife recovered?’

‘She is having a hot bath. The maids are with her and the warmth will stop the chills.’

‘And Hanley?’

‘Hawk has taken him back to London where he will be dealt with.’

‘I would kill him if it were left to me.’

The sentiment made Nat smile. ‘In that we are alike.’

‘Are we?’

This time Nathaniel knew it was something else entirely of which William spoke. ‘You never wanted my mother and father anywhere near you. You sent them from St Auburn and refused to ever see them again.’

‘My Margaret had just died. I was not thinking straight and afterwards...’ He hesitated. ‘Afterwards it was too late. But now I see what I have missed.’

‘You saved Cassandra. Without your bravery Hanley might have drowned her without a whisper.’

The earl shook his head. ‘I hit him as hard as I could and it barely touched him.’

‘But the noise when you fell alerted us. I owe you everything.’

His grandfather used his cane and came to stand next to Nat. ‘We are both hard-headed and stubborn, Nathaniel, and we both love our wives with all our hearts.’ The old eyes were watery as he placed his hand forward palm up. ‘And our children.’

Pleading lay in the gesture. For family, it said, and for forgiveness, it asked.

Stepping forward, Nat brought his grandfather into his arms, tightly wrapped in an emotion that he had thought would be impossible.

‘Thank you for saving her, Grandfather.’

‘It was my pleasure, Nathaniel. And thank you, too, for saving me.’