Love Hath No Decay

Julia Verinder

1897: 20 years after Reactions and Transformations

- 1 -

Vin leaned on the rail of polished mahogany, staring far into the distance through his spyglass, trying to discern the exact point at which the sea met the sky. It was his favorite time of day, just after dawn with only the yawning night watch for company. Never had he imagined anything as vast as the ocean, stretching away into a void a thousand times that of the greatest desert. The idea that there might not be another soul between himself and the teeming streets of New York that, weeks before, he had left behind with such relief thrilled him. He scowled at the memory of the crowds, the seething mass of humanity that jostled like a herd of cattle driven through a narrow canyon. Only Helena's confident hand on his forearm gave him the strength to stride on when he wanted to hightail it out to the first open space he could find.

He heard her dainty tread behind him but did not turn. She sidled between him and the rail, her back to him and her face to the sea. That morning, they were looking to the east not the west.

'All right?' she asked.

'Uh-huh,' he replied, kissing her hair tenderly.

Like his, her chestnut tresses were shot through with threads of silver. He nuzzled her ear and then felt the smoothness of her cheek as she offered it for him to kiss. Fine lines creased the corners of her eyes but the passing years had been kinder to her skin than his, now deeply lined from a lifetime in the outdoors. She remained profoundly attractive to him: her transition from Lady Helena Danforth to Mrs. Ellie Tanner leaving her intense hazel eyes and melodious voice unchanged, her elegance and grace undiminished.

She shivered.

'Cold?' he asked, ready to offer his coat even though he always felt the cold more than she did.

She shook her head.

'Excited?'

She nodded.

More than twenty years away and now waiting for her home to appear over the horizon, she had every right to be. He'd started missing the West before they even reached Kansas. As much as it had changed, it was his land. Everything, and everyone, that meant anything to him was back there, except for the woman in his arms. Not until he left to be at her side had he fully understood what it meant for her to stay to be at his. This was only a visit and yet a part of him feared that he might never return.

When, he wondered, had it happened? Were he and his friends destined to stay from the moment they came together in defense of the Seminoles? He had no memory of any conscious decision on his part - it was more as if they'd left it so long that, by the time they thought of moving on, they had nowhere else to go. That was not to say that they had all spent every intervening year in Four Corners but, for all that they came and went, the town was home. Maybe that wasn't so surprising, he reflected, given the blood and pain they had devoted to its defense in those early, hard, years.

He dropped his spyglass back into his pocket and put his arms around Helena. Nearing his half-century, he had no regrets. The land he had roamed in his youth had grown older with him and there was no longer any place for the kind of man he had been then. He preferred to change with the times than be trapped as a pitiable caricature in a sad travesty like some men of his ilk. He'd let his curiosity get the better of him one time and taken Helena to see Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. Transfixed by the tattered remnants of an almost bygone age paraded around the ring, he hadn't noticed the tears coursing down Helena's cheeks at the glorification of the eradication of the native people until she rummaged through her purse for a handkerchief. No, far better the life he had - settled but honest.

'Missing home?' she prompted.

He smiled at the way she read him so easily after so many years of practice. 'I reckon Chris can handle a few ponies without my help, even if he ain't gettin' any younger.'

'We none of us are.'

Helena, too, was nearer fifty than forty. The difference was that she knew the precise date on which she would reach that milestone, whereas he wasn't sure of the month of his birth let alone the day. There'd been times in his life when he wished he had a proper birthday but, watching Helena's apprehension at facing each new decade of life, he reckoned not having one wasn't such a bad thing after all.

'No,' he said thoughtfully, returning to her question, 'Not hardly. I never meant for my life to be as settled as it is. This is kinda like bein' young again. Hell, I never covered nothin' like this distance when I was young. Always envied you seein' the world, truth be told.'

She twisted to smile up at him. 'I didn't know that.'

He grinned back. 'Man's gotta keep a secret or two. You women don't got us figured as good as you think y'have.'

She returned to contemplating the horizon. He felt the tension in her body before he heard the hesitation in her voice. 'Do you... do you regret not having children?'

He rested his chin on her shoulder. 'No good regrettin' what can't be changed, Ellie.'

He knew from the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and then back again, that she wanted a better answer than that but was reluctant to press him. They'd talked about it before, of course, but not lately. Had his feelings changed? He considered his reply. He had been disappointed, maybe even a little humiliated, when he remained childless while his friends' families began to grow. Only Josiah had no wife and children, while Casey surpassed the other wives by delivering a brood of seven boisterous youngsters that kept JD far too busy for him to get into any mischief.

'No. I got all I need an' more'an I had any right t'expect.'

She tensed, making him wonder for an instant if that had somehow been the wrong answer, but then saw the reason on the horizon. She held her hand out wordlessly. He put the spyglass into it and embraced her as she studied the thin crust of land. Several minutes went by before she handed the extended spyglass to him, still without saying a word. He repeated her scrutiny. There were cliffs to east and west but they were headed towards what he guessed was a river estuary. He'd seen where plenty of rivers sprang out of the earth but the Hudson was the first time he'd seen where one flowed into the sea. He liked the idea of its being freed from the shackles of its banks and spreading out into the never-ending space beyond. A bit like death, he reckoned, the end of one thing but mostly likely the beginning of another.

'That Plymouth?' he asked.

'Yes.' She pointed to a spit of land slightly east of their current heading. 'There's the Hoe. They say that Sir Francis Drake finished his game of bowls there before sailing to defeat the Spanish Armada.'

'When was that then?' He never could keep track of the centuries that Helena knew as intimately as he knew the ranch he owned with Chris. It amused him that she could navigate those dates so effortlessly but could still get lost coming back from town if he took a different route from usual.

'1588.'

'Hell, he's lucky anybody even remembers his name, let alone his taste in games.'

She giggled. 'If you speak that way in front of Thomas, he'll probably have a fit.'

'Want me on my best behavior, then?'

'I don't know. Have I ever seen it?'

He slapped her backside in mock rebuke. It was strange to think that there'd been a time when he'd worried that his rough and ready manners would scare her off before he could get to know her better. She'd made no attempt since to change or groom him, often spoiling him with gifts but always in line with his tastes and never as replacements for his few treasured possessions. At his suggestion, she'd helped him to pick out some new clothes for the trip but everything she chose was a compromise between making him comfortable and making him blend in where they were going. He'd seen the worst excesses of London fashions in some of the journals she received, months after their publication dates, and was relieved to find he wasn't going to have to wear them. She had been apologetic when she told him that he would have to dress for dinner, if he wanted to eat, but the suit she had made for him at least had some dignity to it. The burgundy frock coat and cravat he was wearing that morning were not so far from his customary jacket and neckerchief, his hair still long even if more neatly trimmed than usual. He knew from the admiring glances he'd drawn from several ladies during the voyage that he cut a dashing figure in their eyes at least.

 

- 2 -

It was noon before they finally put into harbor. Helena had been tauter than a fiddle string all morning, fussing over every little detail of their luggage and plans. It was a measure of his love for her that her agitation amused rather than annoyed him. It was a sharp contrast to the many miles he'd traveled in the silent company of one or another of his friends but then those journeys had not been eagerly awaited homecomings. He did not begrudge her a moment of the excitement she so richly deserved after sharing his chosen lifestyle unquestioningly for so long.

When they eventually came to disembark, she held his arm tightly. For him, stepping onto the quayside was just one more stride like any other but her hesitation told him that it seemed far more momentous to her. She was trembling as she alighted. He smiled down at her.

'Feel good?'

She nodded, biting her lip and blinking back the tears. He squeezed her hand and led the way to the inn where one of the ship's officers had told him they would be able to meet their stagecoach. Their luggage would be brought for them, which he had to admit was a pleasant enough side-effect of having a rich wife. He tried to steer a middle course when it came to her income, which she considered modest but seemed like a fortune to him. He was not the kind of man who liked to be kept by his wife but nor was he the kind of man who needed to deny her what he could not afford to buy her himself. So, while he went into ranching with Chris and made the money that paid for the food on their table and the roof over their heads, she paid for her own clothes and the few luxuries that she missed too much to go without. They'd have been in steerage if he'd had to pay for the trip to England, so he swallowed his pride and let her buy first class tickets, fancy clothes and anything else she had a mind to.

Looking around, he saw that Plymouth was a very different place from New York. He knew that London was the capital city of Helena's homeland, and that there were industrial cities further north, but this place was a provincial port. His eyes told him that it was a busy one and his nose that it had a healthy fishing industry. It was crowded and dirty but, able to see the countryside beyond its fringes, he didn't feel trapped as he had in the city. There were some ladies and gentlemen in their finery, and some poor wretches in the gutter, but most of the population looked like ordinary working people. Feeling more at home than he expected, he knew that wouldn't last beyond reaching Helena's ancestral home.

 

- 3 -

Vin's sense of foreboding intensified as Sir Thomas Danforth's coach carried them up the sweeping driveway to her childhood home. Centered on a vast portico, flanked by perfectly symmetrical wings, the house could have accommodated half the population of Four Corners with ease and had been built to impress. It stood proudly at the heart of the estate that Helena had pointed out to him, shouting the wealth of those rolling hills with their lush pastures and dense woodlands. The land was bountiful, greener than he had ever seen and dotted with livestock the quality of which he'd only ever imagined - big beef cattle that had never been driven across a range and fat fluffy sheep nothing like the hardy breeds of home. He could almost smell the money.

Surprised that a servant had been dispatched alone to collect them from the stagecoach, Vin had initially assumed that it must be the way things were done in the unfamiliar society he was entering but then sensed from Helena's disappointment that she, too, had hoped for a warmer welcome. The driver was a stranger to her, making her homecoming a colder affair than he'd envisaged. It felt to him as if it grew colder still when a butler admitted them into a cavernous marble-lined foyer but, at last, Helena saw someone she knew.

'Hodgkins!'

'Welcome home, ma'am.' The butler bowed. 'And welcome to Thurley, sir.'

Vin nodded in acknowledgement, guessing that protocol demanded the welcome, whether it was meant or not. It was hard to see past the butler's formality to judge his sincerity.

'Is my brother home?'

'Yes, ma'am... but he asked me to show you to your rooms. He thought you might like the opportunity to recover from your journey before joining him for dinner.'

'Oh.' Vin knew his wife's shock when he heard it. 'Well, all right. Thank you, Hodgkins.'

'My pleasure, ma'am.' The man led the way up a sweeping staircase to the second floor, along a passage and right to the end. 'The Master gave no instructions, ma'am, and so Mrs. Firth had your old room prepared. I hope that is satisfactory.' He turned to Vin. 'Mrs. Firth had Master Charles's room made up for you, sir. The rooms share a bathroom. I hope you will be comfortable.'

Vin nodded, surprised he was expected to take a room for himself but not intending to show his ignorance by commenting on it. He assumed they wouldn't be policing where he chose to sleep.

'If I might speak freely, ma'am...?'

Helena nodded.

'All the staff would like you to know how pleased we are to have you back, ma'am.'

The sentiment was delivered with the same formality as the description of the practical arrangements but this time Vin caught a glimpse beyond the carefully groomed exterior. He was sure the man meant what he said and also that he did not expect Helena to be pleased to be back for long. Vin began to suspect that their stay would not be a happy one. He pushed those feelings away, not wanting to poison whatever good Helena might find in the situation. As it happened, just then, her volatile mood once more took a turn for the better. She flitted around her old room, examining each painting, ornament and piece of furniture.

'Just as it was,' she murmured. 'As if no one has been in here, all these years.'

The butler, who had been in the act of withdrawing from the room, paused at the door. 'Except for Polly tending to your things, ma'am, no one has.'

'Polly! Oh, please, Hodgkins, do send her up as soon as she has a minute. I should so like to see her again.'

'Ma'am.' Hodgkins closed the door soundlessly behind him.

Vin anticipated Helena's collapse into tears and was there for her, holding her until she recovered her composure.

'Charles and I were so happy here, Vin, when we were children. Perhaps I was foolish to think that I could revisit those times. The house is still here but...'

'Don't know till y'try. Reckon you ain't the kind t'be afeared o' tryin'.'

She smiled shakily up at him. 'I have never feared anything when you are at my side. But I may be depending on you rather more than I expected.'

He kissed her. 'Depend away. A man likes t'feel he's got his uses.'

There was a hesitant knock on the door.

'Come in,' Helena called out.

The door opened to reveal a woman of about forty, whose most remarkable feature was a head of frizzy red hair that had defied her efforts to pin it tidily.

'Polly!'

'Miss. Helena!'

Vin was surprised by their eager embrace. He never thought for a minute that Helena would be cruel to her staff but he still found her world of masters and servants odd. He had not expected a paid employee to greet his wife with the fond tears that this woman did or for the pair of them to start exchanging news at such a pace, talking over the top of each other and barely pausing for breath.

'We're so sorry for the miserable welcome,' Polly was saying. 'We all wanted to give you a proper homecoming and Mr. Hodgkins had it all in hand but the Master forbade it. Forbade it, he did.'

'Never mind, Polly. I don't think he wants me to feel welcome but he can't stop me being glad to see you all again. He can't.' They hugged again. 'What about the Mistress, Polly? She is here, is she not?'

Vin had wondered about that. He knew that Danforth was married and that his wife's name was Caroline. The wedding had taken place during Charles's exile and so Helena had not attended it either. She had never met her sister-in-law.

'Yes'm.'

In the first silence since Polly had entered the room, Helena waited for more.

'The Mistress is not well.'

Even Vin recognized that as the story the staff were expected to tell. He knew Helena would not press the woman to exceed her orders. There would be time enough for them to find out the truth for themselves.

'Anyhow,' Polly went on. 'Mr. Hodgkins says to tell you dinner will be at eight. You'll be able to catch up with everything then.'

There was another knock at the door.

'That'll be William,' Polly predicted. 'Mr. Hodgkins hopes he will suffice as your valet, sir.'

Vin looked to Helena for help. She had never mentioned the possibility of him being assigned a servant of his own.

'One moment,' Helena called towards the door. 'Polly, would you check that the adjoining door to my husband's room is unlocked?'

The woman opened her mouth to speak, looked more closely at Helena and then nodded. She went through a door into what Vin supposed was the connecting bathroom. Helena hurried over to him and leaned close when she spoke.

'A gentleman has a valet to look after his personal affairs - keep his clothes in order, prepare his baths, help him dress and so forth. I'm sure William considers it an honor and it would be churlish to turn him away.'

'Help me dress...?'

'It will seem perfectly natural to him, I promise you. He can advise you on anything you need help with and Hodgkins would never tolerate gossip below stairs so you can depend on discretion.'

Vin shrugged helplessly. He had resigned himself before the trip to doing whatever was required of him. If that involved someone helping him dress, so be it.

Seeing his acceptance of the arrangement, Helena kissed him quickly and then called, 'Come in.'

Polly returned from the bathroom at the same time as William came in through the door. He was a young man, maybe half Vin's age, and good-looking in a dark, gypsy-ish way.

'Good afternoon, sir, ma'am. Mr. Hodgkins asked me to attend you, sir.'

'Right,' Vin said uncertainly. 'Thanks.'

'Thank you, William,' Helena helped him out. 'Would you mind supervising the unloading of our luggage and then helping my husband to unpack?'

'Of course, ma'am.'

As William withdrew to carry out her instructions, Vin began to see that even their private time would be disrupted by staff coming and going at all hours. Perhaps that was why the aristocracy had learned to disregard servants. If you thought of them as people, the constant intrusions would surely be tiresome.

Fortunately, it was not as difficult as he expected. William turned out to be good company, knowledgeable about all the things of which Vin felt most unsure. Helping him dress proved to be a matter of making sure that the most appropriate outfit for an occasion was clean, pressed and laid out for him to put on. When seven o'clock found him bathed and attired in his evening dress, which had been restored to immaculate order after being crushed in a trunk, he decided maybe he could get used to the life after all.

'Thanks, William. You been a big help.'

'You're welcome, sir.'

'Y'don't have to... well, I mean, y'all can speak y'mind with me. I ain't never had all this afore and I won't have it again when I git back home.'

William looked at him for a moment, deep brown eyes seeming to search for a trap, and then smiled to reveal even teeth. 'I was speaking my mind, sir. I have only served in this household for a few years but all the staff who were here before your wife and her brother left on their travels have been looking forward to her return. I consider it an honor to assist in whatever way I can.'

Vin nodded. 'Okay.'

'Will there be anything else before dinner, sir?'

'No, don't think so. Reckon I'll go and git in the way next door.'

This time William's smile was readier. 'In that case, I shall come back while you dine to prepare your room for the night. You can, of course, call on me at any hour.'

'Might as well save yourself some trouble there. I plan on sleepin' with m'wife, same as always, and I won't be draggin' y'all out of your bed in the middle o' the night, but I do like t'get an early start in the mornin'. I figured mebbe I'd take a look around outside at sunup.'

His summary of his plans got a laugh out of his new valet. 'Right you are, sir. It wouldn't be fitting for me to enter the lady's bedchamber but I'll put a tray in here for you at dawn.'

Vin nodded his thanks and sauntered through to see how Helena was getting on. She was sitting in her underwear while Polly twisted her hair into intricate layers. Polly looked shocked at his casual entrance.

'Don't worry, Polly. My husband is used to coming and going as he pleases.'

'Want me t'skidaddle?' he asked.

'No. How did you get on with William?'

'Seems like a nice fella.' He grinned and turned around, arms outspread. 'What d'you reckon? Did he do okay?'

'Polly can remember when there were parties here every other week. What do you think, Polly? Would my husband have passed muster in those days?'

Polly's eyes were moist with nostalgia for what must have been her childhood when she smiled to him. 'Oh, yes, sir. You look fit to meet the Queen herself.'

'Ah, yes,' Helena said. 'The Queen. Do we know more of her plans yet?'

Vin had never been sure whether it was their twentieth anniversary or the Queen's sixtieth that prompted Helena to plan the trip. Ten years earlier, she'd eagerly read every report of the Golden Jubilee and he'd wondered then whether she would suggest a visit to England but she did not. Like everyone else, she had not expected Queen Victoria's reign to last much longer but later came talk of an even bigger celebration for the Diamond Jubilee. He was not surprised when she eventually raised the prospect of taking part in it.

'Well, you know the service at St. Paul's is set for the twenty-second of next month,' Polly began. 'And there are to be celebrations in every town and village, of course.'

'But it will be so crowded in the city,' Helena said doubtfully.

He knew she had considered joining those crowds to cheer her monarch and suspected her concern was for him. He had not hurried to reassure her because, though unable to countenance sending her alone, he was daunted by the prospect of mingling with the hundreds of thousands of people expected to line her route.

Polly smiled. 'Well, Mr. Hodgkins heard...'

There was something about the way she lingered on the word 'heard', and then paused conspiratorially, that told Vin she was repeating something that she was not supposed to. He suspected the butler's source was a friend on someone else's staff.

'... that the Queen will be passing this way, when she returns from Osborne House to Windsor Castle for the celebrations.'

'Really? That would be wonderful, wouldn't it? You remember when we saw her before?'

Polly nodded emphatically. 'When she became the Empress of India. Those were the days, back when it seemed like anything was possible.'

Vin was not a political animal, so he was not offended by any colonial ambitions that might lie behind the wistful reminiscence. From what he could see, politicians were politicians, whether they were territorial governors or state senators or foreign prime ministers reporting to a monarch. In his experience, the kind of people who wanted power were usually the kind who shouldn't have it.

When their territory finally opted for statehood, he discovered that both Mary and Louisa had been right in their own ways. Politically, their representative had a voice in Washington and, financially, their town benefited from a lot of investment that probably wouldn't have come its way without statehood but the citizens were slowly burdened with a growing number of laws to control their lives. Each infringement enraged Buck more until soon he was campaigning as hard as Louisa to stop what he saw as an erosion of his liberty.

Vin could see the irony, how white folk had drifted west to find a new way of life but found the old one catching up with them all too fast, but remained philosophical himself. He abided by the laws he thought important and disregarded the ones he didn't. He still drank, gambled, cussed, spat and relieved himself just as he always had, with consideration but without regard for rules, and no one seemed inclined to make an issue of it, even though he no longer wore a sidearm most of the time and hadn't shot a man in many years.

'Yes,' Helena was agreeing with Polly's memory of the past. 'But then even I'm not old enough to recall her heyday. I can vaguely remember the Prince Consort, from when I was a child, but it is strange to think that the Queen has been a widow for all of your lifetime.'

'It can't be for much longer,' Polly said sadly.

'No. No, it can't.' Such stability was hard for Vin to imagine: one monarch for sixty years - subjects who had never known another ruler. 'And the poor Prince of Wales has grown old waiting for the throne.'

'Some people say he won't ever be King.'

'Oh, I'm sure he will, even if it does sometimes seem as if the Queen will live for ever.'

'Yes'm.'

'Don't humor me, Polly. Perhaps you are right - the Queen may outlive him. From what I've read in the newspapers, he has hardly stinted himself over the years and it may have taken a toll on his constitution.'

'Yes'm.' Polly anchored the last twist of hair and stood back to admire the effect.

Helena turned her head from side to side. 'Beautiful, Polly. No one has ever arranged it as well as you.'

Polly beamed. 'Thank you, ma'am. You always did have lovely hair.'

Vin guessed the compliment was heart-felt, given how unmanageable Polly's hair clearly was. Helena was looking at him in the mirror.

'It's almost time.'

He heard the anxiety in her voice. She'd already been apprehensive and her brother's delaying tactics had turned that into dread. He smiled reassuringly, knowing that he might not be able to stop her being hurt emotionally but giving his promise that she had nothing to fear physically - he would lay down his life in her defense, in this situation just as in any other. He watched as Polly hauled on her corset laces and then helped her into a close-fitting silk dress. He weighed up the effect, recognizing that it was glamorous but not liking to see her so tightly bound, and then nodded approvingly. It was a time for unconditional support and that was precisely what he intended to give. When she was ready, he offered his arm.

'You look beautiful, ma'am,' Polly added her encouragement.

'Thank you, Polly. That will be all for today.'

'Yes'm.'

Vin guessed that would once have surprised her but that she understood Helena was now used to a very different life from the one she'd led in her youth. There was no assistance for her in their home and, except for occasional help from him with an awkward fastening, she had no need of it. He escorted her down the staircase and let her guide him towards the dining room. He swept her boldly inside, feeling no fear himself and determined not to let her brother see hers.

Thomas Danforth was standing beside the fireplace, sloshing liquor freely from a decanter into a large glass that Vin suspected had been designed to hold weaker brews. The likeness to his younger brother was instantly apparent - in his height, coloring and bone structure - looks not unlike Helena's but more handsome in a man than beautiful in a woman.

'Helena,' he said curtly.

She was wrong-footed by his coldness. 'Thomas.' She cleared her throat. 'May I present my husband, Mr. Vin Tanner.'

Thinking only of her, Vin stepped forward and extended his hand. 'Pleased t'meet you.'

Danforth met the gesture with condescension, his handshake dripping disdain. He offered no welcome and expressed no pleasure in the meeting, saying only, 'My wife.'

He might just as well have been drawing attention to one of the hounds sprawled in the foyer from the tone he used. Vin followed his gaze to a woman sitting on the far side of the fireplace. He knew that she was nearly a decade younger than Helena, but would never have guessed it. She seemed faded, with nothing distinctive or attractive in her drab brown hair and fishlike gray eyes, and Vin wondered whether she'd always been that way or whether marriage to his brother-in-law had somehow drained the life out of her. He almost raised a hand to a hat that he wasn't wearing, caught himself just in time and gave a slight bow instead.

'Evenin', ma'am.'

'Did you have a smooth journey?' Danforth asked stiffly.

Helena nodded uneasily. 'Yes, but it seemed much longer than when I was young, even though of course it wasn't, now that the ships are faster and the railroad runs right across the country.'

'Right across the country? My, my, it must be becoming almost civilized out there.'

'We have the important things: teachers, doctors, clergymen...'

That wasn't entirely true, given that the town had never seen fit to replace Nathan or Josiah with a real doctor or preacher, and the only school was the one that Helena taught at no charge. Still, the townsfolk seemed to find that the somewhat unconventional arrangements gave them all they needed.

'It sounds... quaint.'

Helena opened her mouth, then closed it again. She went over to Danforth's wife.

'Good evening, Caroline. I've been looking forward to meeting you.'

The woman's gaze skittered over her, as if in confusion, and then dropped back to her lap. She muttered something that Vin didn't catch and then fell silent.

Determined to be civil, Vin offered his belated condolences to his host for the injustice that had taken place in his jurisdiction so long before.

'I was sorry 'bout your brother. Kinda felt responsible, what with it happenin' in my town.'

'It was for the best. We don't want that kind of thing here. I don't blame you for not wanting it there.'

Vin stared coldly at him, wondering first how he could think that of his own brother, and then how two brothers could look so alike and yet be so different. His acquaintance with Charles had been short but he knew from Helena's enduring sense of loss that his passing had left a hard gap to fill in her life.

'I take it you heard that scoundrel Wilde is recently freed from Reading Gaol?'

Danforth's abrupt question was directed at Helena. She nodded.

'He's gone to France, thank God. With Douglas, would you believe it? France! Best place for him.'

'They say he's a broken man,' Helena said sadly.

'He'd be a dead man, if we took a lesson or two from our colonial cousins.'

'But he was a wonderful writer and wit,' she protested. 'I am sure history will judge us harshly for his persecution.'

'Persecution!' Danforth downed another glass of liquor without offering one to Vin. 'We have to root out these diabolical practices. They'll be the downfall of the Empire.'

'If we must be barbaric for the sake of the Empire then perhaps it deserves to fall.'

'Is this what it's like where you come from?' This time, the curt demand was aimed at Vin. 'Women talking back to their men with no idea of their place?'

Vin would have preferred any amount of backchat to having a woman cower like an ill-used dog, as Danforth's wife cowered from him when they took their places at the dining table, but said nothing. In fact, he remained silent throughout the meal, leaving Helena to strive for some semblance of conversation. His intention was not to let her down but rather to try to hold on to his temper, while Danforth alternated between haughty silences and arrogant pronouncements. Vin's life had not cultivated the diplomacy he needed to remain in such a presence for any length of time, he always having met such challenges in one of two ways: shoot or leave. Not until they were back in Helena's room over an hour later did he voice his frustration.

'So what the Hell was that all about?'

'I'm not sure. I can only assume that he resents this visit. I didn't expect him to be thrilled but this is... was... my home too...'

Seeing her sadness made Vin rein himself in. More quietly, he asked, 'What's goin' on 'tween the two of 'em?'

'In what way?'

'Aw, c'mon. He's got a better relationship goin' with the bottle than he has with her.'

Sitting at the dressing table, Helena did not answer him immediately. She unpinned her hair and began to brush it. He went over and took the brush. Having always enjoyed grooming his horses, he discovered the same soothing effect from brushing his new wife's hair before their honeymoon was out. Helena never seemed to tire of it, always looking disappointed when he stopped, no matter how late the hour.

'She hasn't given him an heir,' she said slowly. 'That makes her a bad wife in his eyes.'

'Problem could be with him.'

She gave a slight shake of her head. 'He'd never admit that, not even to himself. He's not like you.'

Vin inclined his head, watching her in the mirror and inviting her to explain the remark.

'I've got you figured better than you realize.'

He frowned. It was true that he'd wondered where their problem lay, not because he wanted to blame her but because there was a part of him that would have felt better if the fault were not his. She would still be his wife and they would still be childless but he would have the comfort of knowing that he was all man. Now he wondered just how well she had him figured. He let his eyes ask the question.

'You thought it might be your fault. You thought about...' she hesitated. 'You thought about asking Chris to... well, you know. But it's probably me. Perhaps there's something wrong with this family.'

He had considered that before, what with Charles's tastes and Thomas's childless marriage. He'd always recognized that some aspects of Helena's looks were not particularly feminine but he had no way of knowing whether a whole generation of a family could have something wrong in that regard. It didn't matter: she was his woman and he loved her. She was right that he had considered other ways of getting a baby but those had never included getting another wife.

'How did y'know? About Chris, I mean?'

She shrugged. 'I'm not sure. I just did.'

'I didn't mean t'hurt you none by it.'

'You didn't. Asking would have been typical of you... honest... courageous.'

'But you wouldn'ta wanted it that way?'

'No. I feared things could never be the same again if you asked him and he is so precious to you as a friend, as is Mary to me. I was content to accept our destiny. And I have been happy, Vin, truly I have.'

'Me too. Hell, we had Billy and then young Charlie around all the time anyhow, and you got young'uns under your feet all day in school. There's more than one way t'skin a rabbit.'

'It would have been nice for you to have a son to carry on the Tanner name though.'

He gave a slight nod to acknowledge the point. He would have liked that. 'But a man can't always have everythin' he wants. It was enough that you got the Judge t'fix that pardon for me - cleared m'name. Never struck me that I coulda just asked him.'

She smiled. 'How could he not help you? After all you'd done?'

He set down the brush and put his arms around her. She leaned back into his embrace, pushing her head against his stomach. He looked into the mirror, gauging her expression. The lingering smile and the darkness of her eyes told him that her thoughts had settled on his virtues, such as they were, rather than the more somber start of the conversation. He let his hands roam lower, until they cupped her breasts, and then traced circles in the fine silk of her bodice. Her nipples hardened in response and she turned to put her mouth within reach. He pressed his lips to it, tracing hers with his tongue and feeling the blood rising in his loins.

Even after so long, his desire for her remained strong. It was not the intense need that he'd felt when they first got to know each other. The days when the mere thought of her touch was enough to set his flesh straining were gone but the satisfaction he felt when he lay with her endured. The choreography might have grown familiar but, with the steps so well practiced, they were free to enjoy the dance.

She shifted on the stool until she faced him and then smiled invitingly up at him. He unbuttoned his fly one-handed, caressing her cheek with the other, and then slipped his cock into her mouth. He sighed as her lips closed around it. Danforth was a fool, he reflected, if he'd wasted his life on bitter recriminations over the lack of an heir. A confident and loving wife could give a man so many other pleasures.

 

- 4 -

Vin watched Helena's sad scrutiny of the grounds as he escorted her to the stables, then studied them carefully. The place was well maintained enough on the face of it but around the edges, out of ready view, he saw countless signs of economies. It took a large staff to keep up an estate of such size and he guessed Danforth was working too few men too hard on his, probably to leave more money to stock the cellars.

It was the same story in the stables. There was good blood but not much youth tethered in the stalls. The horses and tack were well kept but the buildings needed repair. The man who emerged from the tack room wasn't far short of the Biblical three-score-years-and-ten. His lined face creased into a broad yellow smile for Helena.

'Mornin', Miss 'elena.' He removed his cap and twisted it between his hands. 'If I might be so bold, it's a marvel to 'ave you back. I was startin' to fear I wouldn't live to see it.'

Helena rushed forward and threw her arms around the startled man. 'Oh, Amos! It's wonderful to see you again too.' She laughed merrily. 'But I'm afraid it's been many a year since I could pass for a Miss.'

'Beggin' your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am.' He nodded towards Vin. 'And yours too, sir.'

Vin grinned at him. 'I ain't no sir. Make it Vin.'

The old groom couldn't have look more astonished if Vin had punched him in the face. 'Oh, no, sir. I couldn't do that. Wouldn't be fittin'.'

'That so? Suit yourself. Say, Amos, can you fix us up with some horses? We was plannin' on taking a ride around abouts.'

'Aye, sir, that I can.' He gave Helena an apologetic shrug. 'Things ain't what they were, ma'am, but there's a neat little mare should suit you. She's flighty, but fleet as they come. She'd 'ave made a fine ladies' saddle-'oss in the right 'ands.'

Vin guessed that was as close as the loyal retainer would come to criticizing Helena's brother to her.

'I'm sure she'll be perfect, Amos. Do you have something to suit my husband?'

Amos whistled a summons before replying.

'Would I be right in thinkin' that the gentleman knows 'ow to 'andle an 'oss, ma'am?'

Helena smiled. 'You would.'

'Then we 'ave a stallion 'e might try. The beast could use the exercise an' 'e 'as the smoothest paces you could ask for, though I can't vouch for 'is nature.'

He grinned at Vin and held up his hand to reveal a nasty scar on the back.

Vin returned the grin. He had no fear of a difficult mount but appreciated the warning.

A boy of about twelve came running in from the gardens, copper-colored curls tumbling halfway over his face.

'Yes, Mister Roach.'

'Saddle up Milly, lad. The lady and gentleman are wantin' to take a ride.'

'I'll help,' Helena told the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder and letting him lead the way.

''ave you come all the way from America, like they say?' he asked eagerly.

'You mind your Ps and Qs, Sammy,' Amos called after them. 'It ain't none of your business where the lady 'ails from.'

Ignoring him, Helena said, 'Yes, we have and I shall tell you all about it but, first, you must tell me: are you Polly's boy?'

'Yes'm.'

Vin smiled as Helena began to quiz the boy about old friends. He hoped she might get from them what he knew she was not getting from her kin. If not, it would have been a long voyage for nothing.

'If you'll forgive the presumption, sir, I could use an 'and with 'is 'ighness. I ain't as young as I was and 'e ain't above takin' advantage of it.'

Vin followed him around to a large loosebox on the far side of the stable. The animal in it was a handsome piece of horseflesh, a dark bay standing most of seventeen hands and substantial with it. The roll in its eye warned Vin that he could expect a lively outing.

'Truth be told,' Amos went on, ''e ain't really a bad 'oss.' He glanced sideways at Vin. ''e just needs to be worked 'arder than 'e is 'ere. 'e'd be better off with a gentleman what 'unts regular and 'as a string of mares what needs coverin'.'

Vin nodded. 'Reckon I'd get kinda ornery, penned up without my woman.'

Amos tried for a frown at the personal remark but Vin spotted the twinkle in his eye.

'Well,' he sighed. 'Let's try'n get a saddle on 'im.'

That proved as difficult as Amos clearly expected. Since joining Chris in the ranching venture, Vin had broken plenty of horses but they were mostly green and easily outwitted. Prince, as the stallion was named, was a far worse combination: intelligent and bored. He played every trick in the book, from harmless ruses like pulling off his saddlecloth when Amos turned away to pick up the saddle to trying to bite Vin's fingers when he offered up the bit.

'Y'all c'n pack that in right now,' Vin growled at him. 'Hell, I'da thought you'd be glad to get outta here for a while.'

From behind the horse, Amos muttered something. Vin could have sworn it was along the lines of, 'Like I bet you are, sir.' He looked over Prince's back. Amos looked up, his ruddy color deepening. Vin grinned.

'You better believe it. C'n I ask you somethin'? Or ain't that fittin'?'

'You can do whatever you like, sir.'

'But y'might not give me an answer?'

Amos said nothing.

'I was jus' wonderin' about the other brother. What you mighta thought o' him.'

'Master Charles?'

Vin nodded.

Amos fastened the cinch, automatically ducking a bite and cuffing the horse for trying it.

''e was always a good lad. There are folk round 'ere still wish 'e was the elder, whatever else 'e was.'

Vin nodded.

'Did you know 'im, sir?'

'Not hardly. Just a month or so afore he was killed.'

'You 'eard the talk?'

Vin considered the question, remembering how Helena had told him that one always sought to exercise discretion in such areas. He doubted that she would willingly admit the details to anyone, even someone she'd known all her life like Amos Roach.

'Yeah. It was that kinda talk got him killed.'

Amos nodded. ''e was lookin' for somewhere 'e could be free of it.'

'Mebbe there ain't nowhere like that.'

Amos shook his head regretfully. 'Well, let's get you up on 'is 'ighness then.' He led the stallion outside, the beast prancing around all the while. 'You be careful with 'im around Milly. 'e'll be wastin' 'is time with 'er right now but 'e's full of it this mornin'.'

Looking below the horse's belly, Vin saw that Amos was right on that score. 'Well, let's see if he can cover the ground as easy as he thinks he can cover a mare.'

He swung up quickly, giving the animal no chance to throw him before his backside hit the saddle.

'I left the stirrups on the long side, sir, on account of you bein' used to one of them cowboy saddles.'

Vin nodded his appreciation, shortening his reins cautiously. He still felt precarious, sitting on rather than in the saddle, but had no doubt he would soon get the hang of it. Prince skittered around underneath him, sawing on the bit and shying at imaginary obstacles. Vin was thinking on giving him a quick turn around the stable block when the lad appeared, leading a dappled gray mare out of the stable. Distracted by the pretty picture that his wife made, mounted sidesaddle and dressed in her midnight blue riding habit, he was almost unseated when Prince decided that a buck or two was in order.

'Having fun?' she called over gaily.

'He'll soon learn not to cross a Tanner.'

Remembering Helena's careful tuition in how the horses would be schooled, he experimentally applied his right hand and left heel. He felt Prince's instant understanding of the command in his instant disobedience. Rather than fight him, Vin drove him forwards into a sharp left turn. The horse pricked up his ears, clearly surprised by the sudden change of tack, but strode out briskly enough. Vin pointed him towards the clearest open space in sight and prepared for him to bolt.

The animal did not disappoint. Vin wouldn't normally ride so fast cold out of the stable, knowing how easily an injury could be sustained, but he'd be damned if he was going to have his arms pulled out of their sockets trying to prevent it. He concentrated on staying in the saddle, leaving the horse to do his worst.

Amos had been right. Prince had an exceptionally smooth stride, making him an easier ride than expected. His temper, however, was another matter. Vin knew from how he was carrying on that he'd learned that he could get rid of his rider. He grinned at the thought of how many times Danforth's backside might have hit the ground. Only a fool bought a horse like Prince without knowing how to master it.

They rode hard on and off for an hour. Even the more restful interludes were disrupted by the mare shying at every shadow and Prince trying to bite Vin's legs. Eventually, sick of fighting with the reins, Vin gave him a sharp kick in the jaw. He rarely resorted to such measures but thought it was high time this horse learned who was boss. The startled look on the animal's face made Helena laugh.

'I don't think he's run into anyone quite like you before.'

Vin looked at her, wondering whether to remark on something he'd noticed when they saddled Prince.

'What is it?' she prompted him.

Vin reached around and lifted the saddlecloth. The hide underneath it was crossed with old whip scars.

She frowned.

'Man's gonna hit a horse, the horse needs t'know what he was hit for. I reckon he was mindin' his own business in his stall when he got those an' I don't see ol' Amos treatin' 'im that way.'

Helena shook her head sadly.

Vin decided against saying more. She didn't need to be told that her brother was cruel, nor that he obviously had no idea how to deal with a horse whose only crime was to have a bit of spirit.

After the kick, Prince began to settle down. Vin rode him as lightly as he dared, letting him go pretty much where he had a mind to but keeping him moving smartly forwards on the bit.

'He could be a mighty fine ride in the right hands.'

'According to Sammy, he's out of one of our neighbor's heavy hunters. Thomas took him in payment of a debt.'

Vin snorted. 'Shoulda left him where he was, if them people know their horses.'

'Yes. It is a waste.' She sighed but then sat up straighter. 'It's a lovely day and I won't let Thomas spoil it.'

She urged the mare into a collected canter and turned eastwards up a slope towards a knot of trees that crowned the hill. Prince followed eagerly, needing no instruction from Vin. As they rode around the copse, a view of the entire valley opened up beyond. When they reined back, the horses stood quiet for the first time. When Vin cautiously relaxed, Prince did the same. When he scratched the horse's withers, the animal quivered with pleasure.

'I wish we could take him back with us,' Helena said.

'Hell of a trip for a man, let alone a horse.'

She nodded and then returned her attention to the view. 'Our land... Thomas's land... ends at the river. Beyond is where Prince came from. That's Sally's home.'

They would already have called on Sally Melbourne but for the fact that they'd docked early and she was not due back from London until the weekend. Vin knew everything about her, even though they'd never met. Every month, without fail, she wrote to Helena - long letters filled with every kind of news, from gossip to politics to fashions. Helena would read them over and over again. She'd read out the highlights to him and then chat about them for days afterwards. Sometimes it had torn at his heart to see how much she missed some of things she'd left behind but that was as nothing compared with seeing her disappointment at how much her home had deteriorated in her absence. He suspected Sally had tried to be kind in what she left out of her letters but could see that the kindness had only made Helena's eventual return harder.

 

- 5 -

A couple of days later, Vin breathed a sigh of relief as he escorted Helena upstairs. He was grateful that Danforth chose to ignore them throughout each day, but was equally puzzled by his insistence on them dining with him every evening. When Helena's door fell shut behind them, he asked her about it.

'Why does he eat with us? It sure ain't 'cause he likes our company?'

'I think he considers it bad form not to dine with his guests.' She shrugged. 'Or perhaps he just likes to make us suffer.'

Vin snorted. 'An' he sure likes to make folk suffer.'

'What do you mean?'

'You surely know that horse ain't the only thing he's knockin' around?'

Helena shook her head but he could see that the thought had already crossed her mind. She just didn't want to believe it.

'Thomas wouldn't do that. I mean, he's always been... well... tedious but he wouldn't beat his wife.'

He didn't push the point. Caroline flinched every time her husband made a sudden move but whatever was going on in the house had started long before they arrived and it would go on long after they left.

 

- 6 -

If Vin had begun to doubt the wisdom of bringing Helena home, those doubts were wiped away the moment she was reunited with Sally. He could almost have cried himself, watching the two women clinging to each other, the tears streaming down their cheeks.

'You should have sent word,' Sally sobbed. 'I'd been counting the hours until your arrival. I only went up to town because the time was dragging so down here. I would have come down as soon as I heard.'

'It doesn't matter,' Helena sobbed back. 'Not now you're here.'

The emotional intensity of the reunion did not prepare him for Sally flinging herself at him, kissing him on both cheeks as if he were a long-lost relative.

'It's so wonderful to meet you at last, Vin. I feel as if I have known you for years.'

He held her for a few seconds, disconcerted but not displeased. She was the first person to react so positively to his presence and he was hardly going to complain about the welcome. He shared the eerie familiarity her greeting betrayed, despite the gulf that had always separated them.

'I know jus' what y'mean, ma'am.'

Sally soon released him to go back to Helena's side, taking her hand and leading her over to a chaise longue.

'Has it been too awful?'

Helena's expression clouded over. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I don't know. I... well, I thought you might never return to England and that it might be nicer for you to remember the estate as it was in your father's day. Then, when you wrote to say you were coming, I didn't know what to say.'

Vin leaned on the mantelpiece, listening as Sally filled in the local history that she had so carefully expunged from her letters. There were no dramatic turning points, just the slow decline of an estate that had fallen into the wrong hands.

'I was so sorry to hear about Charles,' she concluded.

Vin heard the same fondness for the dead brother in her voice as he'd heard in Amos's. He knew that said a lot for the man's character, winning people over in spite of the talk.

Helena nodded. 'I fear I shall never stop missing him, even though I have so much to be thankful for.'

Sally beamed up at Vin. 'You will always have my gratitude for making my dearest friend so happy.'

'Ain't hardly been a chore.'

'But where is your husband, Sally? Is he away?'

Sally hesitated. 'No. No, he is here.'

Helena instantly picked up on her unease. 'What's wrong? Is he unwell?'

'Not exactly. It's just that he finds new people... difficult.'

Without moving his head, Vin glanced over at her. Surely they hadn't walked into another house run by a madman?

Sally blushed. 'I wish now that I had been more frank in my letters.'

Helena frowned. 'Oh, no, Sally! Don't tell me you have been unhappily married all these years when I thought you so settled?'

Sally squeezed her hands. 'Not at all. Everything I told you about my marriage was true. It is only that I did not tell you everything. The truth is...' She looked down as she spoke. 'The truth is that he is embarrassed.'

'About what?'

'He feels unworthy of me. It's foolish, but there it is.'

Vin felt his confidence in Sally slipping away. She was still a good-looking woman, to be sure, and Helena had told him that she was a famous beauty in their youth, but time had been less kind to her than to her friend. Her hair, probably once the color of ripe corn, was now nearly half gray and her complexion, probably once fashionably pale, was becoming slightly papery. He couldn't see a man remaining in awe of her after years of marriage. She was looking earnestly between the two of them. She went on hurriedly.

'He'll be back from his walk soon. I wanted to have the chance to warn you first. I know you wouldn't hurt him for the world but he is so sensitive to people's reactions.'

Helena was looking as confused as Vin felt.

'He has a condition. He was never a handsome man and it has robbed him of what looks he had. It has robbed him of much more besides but his mind is as sharp as ever. Please... remember that he is still the same man inside. Look into his eyes and you will see that for yourselves, I'm sure. And... and there is no need to fear contagion.'

She had only just finished speaking when they heard the front door open, the murmur of hushed male voices and then the door close again.

'Here he is now,' Sally said more brightly. 'I'll call him through.'

As soon as her back was turned, Helena looked at Vin. Her eyes repeated the question in his own mind. What the Hell?

A moment later, he was glad that Sally had warned them. Nothing she could have said would have prepared them for the sight of her husband but at least they could try to keep the shock off their faces.

A footman, a burly man in his middle years, pushed a Bath chair through the door. Its occupant sat hunched, his fingers curled into claws and his feet angled awkwardly. His posture spoke of pain and stiffness. Worse than that was his skin, all cracked and peeling as if he'd been left out under the desert sun. To add insult to injury, his hair had fallen out in clumps where the scalp had been ravaged by the disease.

'Robert!' Vin knew the moment she spoke that Sally still adored her husband, however he might appear to a stranger. 'I'd like you to meet my childhood friend Helena and her husband, Mr. Vin Tanner.'

One of the many things that Vin loved about Helena was how easy she was with people. She went straight to the man's side, sat on the edge of a chair close by him and looked right into his eyes when she spoke, resting her hand gently over his.

Vin had seen plenty of smiles that didn't make it from the mouth to the eyes but this man's was the first he'd seen work the other way around, enlivening his gray eyes but unable to mobilize the taunt skin below them. When he spoke, his voice was as startling in its own way as his appearance had been a few moments before, its richness as pleasing as his disfigurement was distressing. There was no doubt of the truth in Sally's loving words: there was a man just like any other trapped inside the wizened shell before them.

Following his wife's example, Vin strode forward confidently and extended his hand. He wasn't sure that his host would be able to take it but the offer of physical contact seemed the surest way to break the ice.

'Pleased t'meet you.'

Robert Melbourne brushed his knuckles against Vin's palm, unable to open the hand enough for even the weakest handshake. 'Likewise, Mr. Tanner, likewise. I've been hearing about your exploits these past twenty years. It's good to put a face to the name.' He paused, as if uncertain of what he was about to say, but then went on. 'Barnes here tells me that you rode Prince over today?'

Vin nodded.

'I should very much like to see him again. Might I perhaps trouble you to push me to the stables? An imposition I know but Mrs. Barnes will never forgive me if I keep her husband from his dinner.'

Vin knew that Barnes's dinner was a pretext but he also knew that it revealed a household very different from the one in which he was staying. This man clearly saw his staff as people, with lives of their own, who were not put on the Earth solely to answer his every whim.

'No problem,' he agreed readily, sure that Helena would be glad of time alone with Sally.

Robert's directions took Vin along the widest and flattest paths, making for easy pushing. He was surprised to be asked to take Barnes's place, knowing that dependence could make some men downright ornery, but assumed that Robert had wanted to speak alone. He took that as further evidence that the man did not regard his servants' presence or absence as inconsequential.

'How is Helena faring since her return?'

Vin considered the question. 'Kinda disappointed, I guess, but mighty glad t'see your wife.'

'I have rarely seen Sally as excited as she has been these past weeks.'

'Yeah, Ellie's been a right flutterbudget too.'

'And you, Mr. Tanner, how do you find Sir Thomas Danforth?'

Recalling Amos's turn of phrase, Vin grinned. 'Ain't sure it'd be fittin' f'me t'answer that one.'

'Did you know that Prince belonged to me before Danforth?'

'Yeah. A stable boy let it slip.' Thinking on it now, the transaction struck Vin as odd. 'Payment of a debt, the boy said, but, f'you don't mind my sayin' so, it don't look like you and y'wife are short of money.'

'You should exercise caution in assessing people's financial status by their property here in England. There are many impressive estates kept intact by covenant and strangled by debt, land without money, but, in this case, you are correct. My wife wants for nothing that money can buy.'

Vin heard the profound sadness in his words. This couple needed something that money could not buy. He stopped the Bath chair outside the stable.

'I'll bring him out.'

Rubbed down and blanketed, Prince was finishing a net of hay when Vin cautiously let himself into the stall. He saw immediately that the horse was relaxed and content, probably recognizing his former home and expecting no cruelty there. In fact, he seemed pleased to have a visitor, nuzzling Vin's hand in hope of a treat. He was in luck because Vin had pocketed a couple of biscuits from Sally's tea-tray, as thanks for the well-mannered ride over. Prince crunched them and then followed, meek as a lamb, when Vin led him outside.

Robert looked him over, with an expression on his face that struck Vin as nostalgic. He tried to raise a hand to pet the horse but could not lift the arm above his shoulder. Vin urged Prince closer and gently pulled his head down with the halter. Robert stroked the soft skin of his nose tenderly.

Prince had been reticent but, the moment he caught Robert's scent, he showed more interest. He sniffed at the crippled hands and then the face. The man's condition, whatever it was, must have had less effect on his scent than his looks because the horse knew him. Vin had no doubt of that when he began to butt Robert's shoulder gently, a gesture that was clearly painful to the sick man but welcome nonetheless.

'So why'd y'all let him go?' Vin asked. 'He's got a real smooth action.'

'Indeed. He was widely considered the finest heavy hunter in the county. Parting with him was not my choice. Your brother-in-law made an unfortunate discovery about the past of a member of my household, a reformed character I might add, and threatened to make the matter public unless I compensated him for his silence.' Robert sighed. 'By that time, my illness had taken hold and, as he so thoughtfully pointed out to me, it was not as if I needed a fine hunter when my condition condemned me to ride in a carriage.'

'Y'mean he blackmailed you?'

'He probably has an entirely different view of the nature of the transaction but, yes, that is how I would characterize it. At another time, I might have stood up to him but I regret that he caught me at a low ebb, when self-pity blinded me to the consequences for the horse.'

'That fella's some...' Vin decided against voicing the description that came into his head.

'Yes, he appears to lack any redeeming qualities. Of course, it is unforgivable of me to speak in such a way about a member of your wife's family. I regret that my condition exacts its price of my own personality. I am no longer as concerned about propriety and custom as I once was.'

Vin grinned down at him, taking to the man's honest assessment of himself as well as others.

'Well, I never did pay 'em much mind so we should rub along jus' fine.'

'Tell me, Mr. Tanner, do you dance as well as you ride?'

The question was unexpected and Vin thought about it for a few seconds.

'Don't rightly know. I reckon I like t'take a turn to the tune of a fiddle as much as the next man but I ain't done no fancy dancin'.'

'I used to love to dance,' Robert said wistfully. 'I swear it was my dancing that won Sally's heart, for it certainly wasn't my looks. She had many more handsome suitors than me.'

Vin felt sorrow, rather than pity, for the loss. Being an active man himself, he could readily see how hard it must be to pass the days confined to a chair when you had spent your life riding and dancing.

'Would you do something for me, Mr. Tanner? A favor of sorts. A rather strange favor, I fear.'

'If I can,' Vin agreed carefully. He didn't expect the favor to be one that went against his beliefs but he wasn't given to committing himself until he knew the deal.

'Would you stand in for me, so to speak? Treat my wife to some of the pursuits she has been too long denied? It would be a little like being able to do them again myself.' Vin's shock must have shown because Robert hurriedly added, 'I meant nothing of a nature that would violate your marriage vows. It may repulse you to hear it but that is one of the few obligations I can still fulfill, after a fashion. No, it is only that I should so like to see Sally dance again. She denies herself because she does not wish to hurt me but there is no need for her to do so.'

Vin wondered why the man did not explain himself to his wife, or ask a friend for his favor, but then realized that it was sometimes easier to ask help of a stranger than a friend. Forced into dependence, this man wanted to make his own arrangements with someone outside his usual circle. Perhaps, too, he felt more secure putting his wife into the arms of an escort who would be on the far side of an ocean within months, rather than one who might continue to call on his wife after he tired of the experiment.

'Sure,' he said slowly. 'Any time your wife wants t'dance, I'd be honored.'

'Thank you. Shall we return to the ladies now?'

Vin was surprised that he wanted to go back so soon but went along with the suggestion, putting Prince away and then retracing his steps back to the house. Reassured by Robert's candor, he voiced the thoughts going around in his head.

'It don't bother you none that I ain't no gentleman?'

'It might, if I thought you weren't. However, I believe you amply meet my criteria for the description.'

Vin gave a little laugh and waved a hand at the splendor of the Palladian mansion in front of them. 'I always knew I didn't have much t'offer my wife but this...'

Robert raised his hand a few inches to stop him. 'This, as you put it, is my wife's family home. Her title is her own too. Only the money is mine, made in that most distasteful of pursuits, commerce, and making me that most despised of species - a self-made man who has bought his way into the gentry. So, Mr. Tanner, you need not feel lonely in your role of outsider.'

Vin considered that as he walked. He could easily imagine the spiteful gossip that might spark off, and the likely conclusion that Sally was getting what she deserved when her husband was crippled. As if it wasn't enough to be struck down by such a debilitating disease, the man had to carry the extra burden of other people's expectations and judgments. And so, now, one outsider was asking another for a favor.

He wheeled Robert back into the morning room, managing the doors as deftly as if he been maneuvering heavily laden Bath chairs all his life. As soon as he looked at Helena, he saw the delight in her face. He raised an eyebrow to invite an explanation, which brought her skipping across the room.

'There's to be a dance on Saturday night. For us, Vin! A homecoming dance! Isn't that wonderful?'

He let her hug him, thinking first that it was her homecoming not his and second that wonderful might not be his chosen description. He looked over her shoulder and caught Robert's eye on him, realizing the context of his favor. He wanted the party to be special for everybody. He wanted his wife to have fun and he didn't want Vin to feel awkward about his host's limited participation. When Robert's eyes smiled, he let his own smile in response. They were both cast in the same role, supporting players in their wives' social lives, and, if Robert could play his more challenging part so graciously, Vin intended to match him.

Suddenly, Helena pulled away, turning back to Sally with a look of horror.

'But I won't know any of the new dances!'

It was the same tone she'd used several times when preparing for their trip, every time she thought of something else she wouldn't know or didn't have. Vin usually managed to contrive a sympathetic expression while she was looking, even though he could rarely see the importance of whatever-it-was.

Trying to be helpful, he pointed out, 'Well, you'll still be ahead o' me f'you know the old ones.'

She gave him an impatient glance that clearly told him to be quiet if he couldn't say anything useful. He recognized the muffled sound from Robert's chair as a stifled laugh and, enjoying the fellow-feeling of being with another long-married man, looked away before Helena could see the smile spreading over his own face.

'Oh, don't be silly,' Sally scolded. 'You always could learn any dance in an hour.' She pulled a cord beside the fireplace. 'We can easily teach you.'

'Do you...' Helena began, looking at Robert. 'I mean, did you...' She faltered and blushed.

Robert's eyes twinkled reassuringly. 'Far be it from me to say so, but I do believe I was a rather fine dancer.'

Sally put an arm fondly around his shoulders. 'Oh, you should have seen him, Helena. Such grace.'

Vin felt another wave of sorrow for such a loss, accompanied by bitterness that it should be visited on this man while his cruel and arrogant neighbor enjoyed robust and undeserved good health.

Sally's maid came in at that moment.

'You rang, ma'am?'

'Yes, Ruby. I was wondering whether Christine has finished her morning lessons.'

'Yes, ma'am. Mrs. Barrow called for their luncheon at twelve sharp.'

'Would you tell Mrs. Barrow that she may take the afternoon off. I need my daughter's assistance after we have dined.'

'Yes, ma'am. Mr. Price asked me to tell you that your luncheon is ready to be served, if that suits.'

'That will be perfect. Thank you, Ruby.'

One of the things Vin could not fault about big houses in England was the food. It was pretty well the only good thing about Danforth's household and it tasted better than ever in the present relaxed company. He worked his way through a portion of just about everything, in between answering his hosts' questions about America, although in truth he knew little more than they did about the East Coast.

Only when they had finished did Christine join them. Vin saw in an instant that she was fortunate indeed, blessed with both her mother's beauty and her father's grace. The kiss she placed so delicately on her father's cheek spoke volumes about her love for him, undiminished by his illness.

Sally presented her formally, as if she were an adult even though she could not have been more than about fourteen years old, then added, 'The boys are away at school, of course.'

Hearing the love and pride in her voice, Vin knew that the couple had enjoyed good as well as bad fortune. Three healthy, happy children was no small blessing.

'Mrs. Barrow said that I have no lessons this afternoon,' the girl told her mother, clearly puzzled.

'No, my dear. This afternoon, you shall be the teacher. Mrs. Tanner needs to learn the latest dances, and Mr. Tanner needs to learn them all.'

Christine's eyes sparkled. 'For the dance on-?'

She stopped suddenly, obviously wondering if she was giving away a secret.

'Yes,' Robert said, 'For Saturday.' He looked at Vin. 'You couldn't hope for a better teacher.' Patting his daughter's hand, he said, 'To the ballroom, sweetheart.'

Vin gaped at the room they entered moments later, at its size and its elaborate drapes of Chinese green silk damask, at its intricate gilt plaster ceiling and countless gilt mirrors, and, most stunning of all, at its polished floor patterned with woods in half a dozen different shades. He found it hard to imagine what kind of money went into such a show of extravagance. Still, he supposed, they'd had a hundred years or so out of it, and it looked as if it'd still be standing in another hundred.

Over the next few hours, Vin discovered two things. One was that dancing, on the scale these women meant, could be darned hard work and the other that it was better done on a lighter lunch that the one he'd so relished. Even so, he was soon enjoying the waltzes, polkas, mazurkas, quadrilles and who knows what else they taught him. He was a quick study, having a good ear for music and the kind of coordination that made dancing a pleasure not a chore, and his active outdoor life stood him in good stead, meaning that he was still breathing moderately when Christine and Helena were done for.

He smiled to Sally. 'Looks like I need a new teacher. These two seem plumb tuckered out.'

She hesitated, clearly wanting to agree but uneasy about doing so.

'Go ahead, my dear,' Robert urged her.

She rose slowly. 'I'm rather out of practice...'

Vin took her hand and whirled her into the center of the room, while Christina took her place at the piano. The girl began with a waltz, a gaily swirling mass of notes, and he was confident enough by then to take the lead. It was a minute or two before Sally relaxed but then he discovered what a truly excellent dance partner felt like. The mother could not match the daughter's effortless grace, whether by nature or through age he could not tell, but she had the twin advantages of years of practice and an obvious love of dancing. To his surprise, her expertise made his role easier and, rather than struggle to keep up, he began to feel almost as if he were floating over the floor himself. From the corners of his eyes, he monitored Robert as they spun around the room. The man was transfixed, watching his wife with unconcealed adoration.

Vin began to think that the homecoming dance might not be so bad after all.

 

- 7 -

As it turned out, the ball was a truly magnificent affair. Everything far outshone anything Vin had ever seen, from the stream of splendid carriages to the rainbow hues of the ladies' dresses to the astonishing dishes of carved and molded food. Helena had given him one tip for the evening: moderation. She told him that there would be more of everything than any man could hold and that he should pace himself accordingly. Given that she had never tried to tell him what to do before, he took the advice seriously and was especially careful to watch what he was drinking. Even so, it was surprisingly difficult to control his intake, when his glass was constantly replenished. He watched her for a while, renewing old acquaintances at every turn, and let her introduce him to quite a few of them before he tired of their shallow pleasantries.

A small orchestra had been playing in the background. When the volume rose, he guessed that the dancing was soon to start. He'd been drilled in the art of inviting ladies to dance, how they would mark him in their dance cards and how he must remember which lady went with which dance. So far, his schedule was looking pretty sparse, given that he had asked no one and only Christine flouted convention to ask him for the first dance. He was relieved that was to be a waltz, which he reckoned he'd got down pretty well, and kept one eye on the girl for a sign that he should approach her.

When she gave a slight nod, he strode boldly over and, watching what everyone else was doing, offered his hand. It was impossible to make her look anything but lovely as she floated on his arm and subtly guided him around the floor. The crowd made dancing a good deal harder than it had been in an empty room and he had to concentrate carefully to start with.

Christine smiled up at him. 'You dance beautifully, Mr. Tanner.'

He grinned. 'An' you do everythin' beautifully, Miss. I bet you got a line of suitors a mile long.'

She blushed deeply but did not deny it. He knew that it would be no time at all before she became a famous society beauty, just like her mother. He hoped she would prove as wise as her mother too, especially when it came to choosing a husband from that long line of suitors.

When the dance ended, he found himself engulfed by a gaggle of card-fluttering ladies, all too proper to ask but none making any secret of their desire to be asked by a stranger who had been shown off so well by their host's daughter. He had been sizing up the opposition during the second half of the waltz and now picked a plump young wife whose footwork was far daintier than her more slender friends had managed.

'Would you do me the honor, ma'am?'

Her cheeks grew pink but he saw her joy at being chosen over the others.

'Oh, yes,' she breathed. 'I'd be delighted.'

To his amazement, she stayed with him effortlessly as the room became a kaleidoscope of brightly colored polka-dancers. Not only did she never falter but neither did she pay any attention to what her feet were doing, her eyes locked onto his throughout and filled with infectious merriment. Whoever her husband was, Vin suspected he was probably a very happy man.

After that, he went from one lovely woman to another. Some were pretty, some graceful, some captivating and some all three, but not one had no merit at all. He knew the reason for that: as Helena had explained, a lady's raison d'être was to please the gentlemen of her acquaintance enough to make a good match. Ideally, she was beautiful but, if denied that natural advantage, she must be all the more accomplished... and all these ladies were most certainly accomplished.

Finding dancing a good deal more pleasurable than trying to converse, he stayed on the floor for one dance after another, only stopping long enough to sip a drink and book more partners. He was careful to spread his invitations around, not needing to be warned that monopolizing a woman would get him into trouble, either with her husband or his wife. He broke that rule only for Sally, taking several turns with her when she was satisfied that all her guests were enjoying themselves. Robert watched for a while but then retired to the library with some men Vin suspected were old friends from the distasteful world of commerce.

At his next pause for refreshment, he noticed his sister-in-law trying to hide in the shadows beside the drapes. Although Danforth had announced at dinner a few days earlier that he supposed, as a neighbor, he couldn't refuse an invitation, however tedious, Vin had forgotten all about him since and had not seen his arrival. When he caught Caroline's eye, she immediately looked away. For some reason that he couldn't later recall, he suddenly felt sorry for her: tired, plain and fearful. He walked over and spoke softly to her.

'Would you care to dance, ma'am?'

She looked up at him, seeming almost puzzled by the invitation.

'I don't think that would be a very good idea.'

'Why's that? I ain't trod on no one's toes yet.'

'No one ever asks me to dance.'

'I thought I jus' did.' He smiled. 'Aw, c'mon. It's a polka, ain't it? My favorite.'

She gave a ghost of a smile.

'It used to be my favorite too.'

'What happened?'

'My husband happened.'

Vin made a show of looking around.

'He don't seem t'be here right now.'

She stared up at him, her eyes wide like a frightened rabbit. He offered his hand. Slowly, she lifted hers and then rested it on top. It was cold and lifeless, like her eyes, but he was sure there must be some spark of personality still smoldering deep inside her, if only she could meet someone who wanted to reignite it.

He set a much steadier rhythm with his new partner, guessing that she'd had little practice in recent times. Her balance was slightly off, and he saw the giddiness in her eyes as he twirled her around, but his secure hold seemed to give her confidence to carry on.

Feeling eyes all over the room settling on them, he knew he was courting trouble by asking her to dance when no one else had. He wondered if that had been a smart move, not for his sake but for hers. What was he trying to prove? He had little doubt whom her husband would hold to account for the indulgence.

Still, having started, there seemed nothing to be done but finish the dance. When he bowed to her at the end, she gave a nervous little smile.

'You dance well, Mr. Tanner.'

'Reckon you could make it Vin? I am your brother-in-law, when all's said an' done.'

'Be careful, Vin.' She glanced around. 'Do not underestimate how much my husband loathes you.'

'He don't hardly know me.'

'Still... be careful.'

With that, she scurried away. He hoped one dance could be worth something, even if it was no more than a fleeting diversion from a dreary existence. The thought cast a pall over his earlier happy mood. He made his way across the ballroom and into the hall, headed for the water closets in the back corridor. Modern plumbing was one of the few things he expected to miss when he went home. He felt like royalty in the bathroom at Thurley, throned in luxury with a view over the valley, his waste products disappearing as if by magic - no cold, dark trips out to smelly pits in bug-infested outhouses.

Preoccupied with Caroline's warning, he walked straight into the consequences of his rashness. Danforth stood in the corridor, a fist raised to his wife, muttering murderously. She held a hand to her cheek, over the spot where Vin guessed one blow had already fallen. He strode towards them and leaped right in.

'You wanna hit somebody, how 'bout you try me?'

'Is that what passes for chivalry back in your pathetic little dustbowl?'

'Are you what passes for a man round here?'

'Need I remind you, sir, that you are a guest in my home?'

'No. It's all that's held me back this long.'

'There is no longer any need to let that fact constrain you, Mr. Tanner.' Robert's voice, coming from behind Vin, held an unfamiliar edge. 'You and your good lady would be most welcome to remain here as my guests.'

Vin nodded his acknowledgement of the offer but kept his eyes on Danforth.

'Leave her be. It was just a dance - ain't that what we're here for?'

'I have no idea what you're here for. My sister left England a lady, albeit a foolish one, but she returned an embarrassment to her family.' He gestured contemptuously. 'Training a monkey and putting him in evening dress makes him no less a monkey.'

Even forewarned, the naked hatred caught Vin off-guard. He'd known Danforth looked down on him but hadn't fully appreciated the intensity of his derision. It was the kind of talk he'd heard before when an Indian or a Negro dared to touch a white woman - any willingness on her part only meant that she shared the burden of hate, not that it was lifted - but it was the first time he'd found the prejudice aimed at him.

'No one wants you here,' Danforth went on.

Vin was more secure in his own value than many men but even he was not immune to self-doubt. Maybe he was just a novelty for these people, like some kind of animal brought in to entertain them, but then he remembered the ladies, their flirting eyes and blushing cheeks, and knew that they saw him as every inch a man, albeit perhaps only so desirable because his strangeness made him exotic.

'M'wife wants me here,' he said simply. 'That's good enough f'me.'

'As if you give a damn about her.'

'An' you do?' Vin asked, incredulous at the man's arrogance after he had made Helena spill more tears in a couple of weeks than in the previous twenty years.

'You can't even see how you have defiled her, can you?'

Vin felt the blood rising in his cheeks, mostly in anger but seasoned with some humiliation at the suggestion that his touch was somehow unclean.

'Thank God there were no children.'

Vin's anger blossomed until it drove out all other emotion.

'Well,' he snarled. 'Least we're agreed on somethin'.'

He made sure that his expression left no doubt of his meaning. He'd felt glad before that there was no Thomas Danforth Junior but it was only Danforth's cruelty that freed him to voice that view.

'How dare you-'

'Oh, I'm jus' gittin' goin',' Vin assured him. 'My wife's come halfway around the world to visit with her kin and you done nothin' but hurt her from the minute she got here. You treat your own wife worse than any decent man'd treat a dog. What the Hell kind of man proves himself by beatin' up on a woman?'

Danforth glared at him. Vin could read his thoughts easily enough - he was aching to lash out but he was afraid that he would lose the encounter. Vin wasn't in the least surprised, viewing any wife-beater as a bully and coward. He had never hit a woman, although he'd met one or two that had tempted him, and nothing would induce him to raise a hand to his own wife. The cowardice triumphed, when Danforth grabbed his wife's arm and dragged her towards the front door.

Blood running hot, Vin was of a mind to follow but Robert's low voice stopped him.

'Tonight may not be the best time to pursue the matter.'

Vin turned to look at him. 'There ain't a good time for what that fella needs.'

Robert gave a stiff shrug. 'The ladies would be very disappointed if the evening were to be spoiled, when it has been such a success thus far.'

Vin chewed his lip. He knew his host was right. He pondered it a while longer and then nodded slowly.

'Yeah, this has been real special for Ellie. He'll still be around tomorrow.'

Robert smiled. 'Unless our luck takes a dramatic turn for the better. Meanwhile, I do believe you were cutting something of a dash on the dance floor. You reminded me of... let me think... ah, yes, me.'

He chuckled and propelled himself slowly past Vin, taking the lead back into the gathering that was now rolling forwards under its own momentum without needing further help from its hosts.

 

- 8 -

The end of the evening found Vin wondering whether they should return to Thurley or not. He hadn't struck Danforth yet but, with their animosity now right out in the open, he couldn't see how he could just walk back into the man's house. Still, thinking rationally again, he was ashamed that he might have got his wife thrown out of her ancestral home. He was still mulling that over when he and Helena stood in the hall, watching the last of the guests finally climb into their carriages and then hearing them crunch away down the drive.

While Sally ushered Christine up to bed, the pair of them chattering about how perfect everything had been, Robert came to Vin's rescue.

'Helena, my dear,' he began. 'I would feel better if you and Vin were to stay here as our guests tonight.'

Helena's surprise lasted no more than a second before she rounded on Vin, demanding, 'What happened?'

Vin shrugged slowly. 'I stepped in t'stop him hittin' Caroline. Y'might say we had words.'

'What kind of words?'

'The kind a man ain't apt to forget in a hurry.'

Helena turned to Robert, presumably thinking him a more likely source of a candid answer.

'Your brother was unforgivably rude, Helena. Vin did well to say as little as he did.'

Back to Vin. 'But you threatened him?'

Vin gazed steadily at her. 'Not exactly. I said, if he wanted to hit someone, mebbe he should try me.'

'Won't you ever...?'

She didn't finish the question but Vin knew it well enough from several such exchanges over the years. They only ever argued about that one thing, she finding him too quick to violence and he telling her that she knew who he was when she took him on. He'd learned from bitter experience that they would never reconcile their views on that particular point.

'Look,' he said reasonably. 'Mebbe I coulda handled it better but I wasn't jus' gonna look the other way like some folk round here seem inclined to.'

She flared up at him. 'I've seen you turn a blind eye to brutal households before. Don't pretend America is somehow free of them.'

'Yeah, well, sometimes a man minds his business and sometimes he figures somethin' is his business. Hell, she's your kin, or wed to your kin at least.'

'And now what? If we stay here, she will be alone with Thomas and his anger - is that helping her?'

Vin gave no answer because he had no answer. He suspected that he probably had made things worse and he knew that, while the clash might have been sparked by Caroline's situation, it had escalated more because of the insults Danforth threw at him than the punch he'd thrown at her. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then, knowing himself and knowing his wife, he opted for honesty.

'You're right, an' I'm sorry.'

She opened her mouth to speak but then stopped. 'No,' she sighed. 'You're right. We can't keep ignoring it. But tonight...'

'Wasn't the time - I know.' He took a deep breath. 'I let him rile me.'

'What did he say' she asked in a tiny voice, as if by whispering she could make her brother's words less hurtful.

Vin looked down at the floor, up at the ceiling and then, still chewing his lip, shook his head. He could not bring himself to tell his wife that her only kin thought she was damaged, forever stained by his touch.

'Does it matter so much what he thinks?' she asked.

'It matter t'you?'

She considered that. 'No, I don't think it does any more. He has become so hateful.' She took his hand. 'He thinks you an animal, unworthy of someone of my breeding?'

Vin nodded. 'That's about the size of it.'

'Then he is a fool, on top of everything else.' She looked sadly at their host. 'What has happened to make him like this, Robert? He was not always so cruel.'

Robert gestured to a settle near to his chair. Helena perched on the edge of it and Vin stood alongside her, one hand resting on her shoulder.

'I regret to say that I believe it is a symptom of the times in which we are living,' Robert began. 'You must have noticed how the country has changed.'

Helena gave a slight nod. She'd said little but Vin had noted her muted surprise at many things they'd seen, not all of them the fault of Sir Thomas Danforth.

'The shadow of the Queen's old age seems to have darkened the land. With the century drawing to a close and a prince in his middle years who commands little love among the people awaiting the throne, the future seems so uncertain. The Empire, once such a bright jewel in the crown, is fragile. Skirmishes on borders across the globe stretch an army with scarce the strength to contain them. Meanwhile, men like your brother exploit the populace at home until they look with envy at their republican cousins.' He glanced up at Vin. 'The Americans, and even old enemies like the French.'

Helena sat in silence for a few seconds, taking in what he'd said. 'But surely there is hope? For the new century? For the modern world we have forged?'

'Hope seems in short supply here in the Old World. Is it different in the new one?'

Helena looked up at Vin, as if unsure of giving an opinion on her adopted country after finding herself so out of step with the land of her birth.

'Well,' he said thoughtfully. 'I reckon home was gettin' t'seem kinda wore out t'me when we left, what with the land so settled up and all them new laws ol' Bucklin tries s'hard t'save us from...' He squeezed Helena's shoulder. 'But it sure seems younger lookin' back from here.'

Robert nodded. 'I have heard that from other men too.' He paused, studying them both closely.

Vin realized that he himself was looking straight back into Robert's eyes, gauging his thoughts as he would any man's and scarcely noticing the raw, scarred flesh in which he was imprisoned.

Robert breathed in deeply, wincing at the pain of doing so, and then continued. 'I make no excuse for your brother, Helena. He is a cruel and arrogant man, undeserving of the power and riches entrusted to him. Nonetheless, it may help you both to consider the motivation behind his dislike for you, Vin.'

Vin frowned, wondering what Robert meant and how he could know what hid in another man's heart.

'Men in our position, and I include myself with Danforth by circumstance if not by breeding, are becoming uneasy at the changes we see around us. This country is built on a certain foundation and there is no guarantee that it would survive a violent transition to another model of government.'

'You mean,' Helena asked in a low voice, 'Revolution?'

Robert gave a slight nod. 'It is my belief that we must endeavor to make progress towards a more just system but men like your brother believe the answer to discontent is oppression. It is also my belief that, if we fail in our efforts, it may merely be a matter of time before international events precipitate radical change over which we have no control.'

'But this is politics,' Helena protested. 'It has nothing to do with Vin and me.'

'It has everything to do with you,' Robert corrected gently. 'In your husband, your brother sees a man who has no need of wealth or position to live a life that is happy and free. In short, he is threatened. How much more comfortable it is, then, to despise Vin for what he lacks than to fear him for what he is.'

Vin considered the idea, turning it over and looking at it from all angles. It fitted exactly with Danforth's every move and every word since they'd met. 'I reckon you could be right,' he admitted. 'Makes it kinda tough t'change his mind.'

'I believe there is nothing that would achieve such an end. Taking a woman of his blood as your wife is a crime for which he will never forgive you.' He looked at Helena. 'And agreeing to be taken is no better. I apologize for being so blunt and, though I doubt it is of much comfort, can assure you that he thinks little better of me.'

'But at least y'had the decency t'bring y'own money to y'marriage,' Vin pointed out.

'Yes and, as much as the gentry despise talk of money, they recognize its value in maintaining the lifestyle to which they have become accustomed.' He gave an ironic smile. 'Although I wonder if even that would have helped in your case. I know Danforth believed your interest in Helena to be pecuniary, and I also know that he became only more enraged to discover that it was not.'

'How the Hell would he know what my interests are?'

Vin was irritated to think of distant judgments being made by a man who'd never even seen him, with or without his wife, until a couple of weeks before.

'He knows Helena's financial affairs intimately, given that he is the custodian of the estate that pays the allowance her father bequeathed to her. He knows that the bulk of it lies untouched in a bank account, and that most of what has been spent went on this trip. You have denied him the satisfaction of being right, even in that one particular.' Robert's smile broadened. 'You are an unusual man, Vin. I know some very decent fellows who think nothing of helping themselves to their wives' fortunes.'

Had he considered it, Vin might have found the extent of Robert's knowledge surprising, but then maybe he'd keep a close eye on a neighbor as loathsome as Danforth.

'The money ain't mine. Ellie's bought some mighty fine things f'me over the years, and I appreciate 'em, but a gift's a gift. It ain't for me t'help myself.'

'No. You are quite right.'

'Anyhow, she paid for a school t'be built in our town so's she could teach the young'uns. I guess that was kinda f'me. Leastwise it was part of us findin' a way t'make some kinda life together.'

'You cannot imagine how such altruism must grate with your brother-in-law.'

'F'I had all this...' Vin gestured vaguely to encompass Robert's home and Thurley beyond, 'I hope it'd make me a darned sight happier than it's made him. How much money can one man spend anyhow? Hell, Ellie, I thought Ezra could be a touch greedy till I come here. Now I reckon I been doin' him an injustice.'

He'd been voicing his frustration with the whole business, so it was a surprise when his words made his wife laugh.

'Oh, no, Ezra is greedy. The fact that Thomas is more so doesn't change it.' Her expression grew wistful. 'But Ezra isn't cruel. I so miss our chats - I hope he is well.' She shook her head, as if to cast off thoughts of their home so far away, and rested a hand on Robert's. 'Thank you for explaining things to us. I have been naïve, perhaps because everything seems so strange after my long absence. I am truly sorry to have brought such bitterness into your home, when you already have so much to bear.'

Robert raised her hand to his lips. 'The day that my condition prevents me offering help to a friend will be the day that my life ceases to have value. I am happy to be of service, in any way I can.'

She smiled. 'Thank you, but I regret that we must decline your invitation tonight. We cannot seek safety here without knowing that Caroline is safe. And I will not allow my brother to banish me or my husband from Thurley. Our father must be turning in his grave at the very thought.'

Vin kissed her lovingly. She had always shown more courage, both spiritual and physical, than she thought she could but, while he was close, he heard her grind her teeth in anticipation of the coming ordeal.

'Perhaps we might return tomorrow,' she went on. 'That will give us time to speak with Caroline and to collect our things.'

'Of course,' Robert agreed warmly. 'My home is your home.'

 

- 9 -

Vin sat bolt upright on the drive back to Thurley, Helena close beside him and clinging to his arm. There had been a time when he might not have understood her trepidation, given that he had not the slightest doubt that he could better Danforth with any - or no - weapon, but having a wife he adored had changed his outlook in many ways. Knowing how essential her continued love was to his own happiness had given him an insight into how much a person could be hurt without being physically harmed. If she ever grew to despise him, he doubted he would be able to go on getting up every day as if life counted for something. He knew her brother's opinion mattered far less than that to her but doubted she could shrug it off as easily as she claimed. As for himself, he was still trying to work through his emotions.

He had never deluded himself that he was a great catch as a husband but he thought he was a decent man who knew how to treat a woman right. He'd been glad to make an honest woman of her and, had she asked it of him, would have waited until their wedding night to make love to her for the first time. It had never before occurred to him that anyone would think that he had defiled her but perhaps his tumultuous feelings now meant that some part of him believed it. He recalled Robert's words on the day they'd met, about being a despised species lonely in the role of outsider. If a man like that, who'd built a fortune from nothing and used it so selflessly, could be made to feel like an undeserving leech on his wife's heritage, there seemed little hope of a small-time Texan horse-rancher making much of an impression.

'Ellie?'

'Mmm?'

'Why did y'marry me?'

'Because I fell in love with you.' She sounded surprised that he'd asked. 'Why did you marry me?'

'Same thing. Y'know that.'

'Why should your love be so self-evident but mine open to question?'

'I didn't mean it t'sound like that,' he said truthfully. 'I reckon I know y'all musta loved me, because there ain't nothin' else you coulda married me for.'

She smiled. 'That's not entirely true.'

'Huh?'

'You've never understood how attractive a man like you was to a young woman who had never before met someone so thrilling and fearless. Those characteristics were just as seductive to a person from a background as constrained as mine as wealth might be to a pauper.'

He considered that for a while, slowly seeing what she meant.

'In fact, one of the things I've always loved about you is that you couldn't see it... and still find it so hard to believe. Now you've met Thomas, I think you probably understand why humility might be appealing.'

He kissed the top of her head but could not so easily put Danforth's monkey-gibe out of his mind. He cast around for a way to ask what she saw when he tried to escort her in a society for which he was so ill-equipped.

'I didn't embarrass y'none t'night, did I?'

She looked sharply up at him.

'No! Not for a moment. You managed wonderfully well.'

He nodded sadly. 'For a Texan horse-rancher.'

She looked closely at him, then shook her head. 'No, Vin, not for anything. You were splendid.'

He wanted to accept her assurance but guessed his performance wasn't very convincing when she went on.

'Of course it's difficult for you here. It was difficult for me in the West. You know that.'

That was true - he did. Though it was fortunate she was such a keen horsewoman, that was about the only skill she possessed that was of the slightest use in Four Corners, at least until she began to teach the others to the town's children. She'd had to learn to keep house without staff, prepare game for the pot, cook and a score of other things beside. The cooking was particularly memorable, given that he'd stoically tried to eat even the early results. Planning a banquet for five hundred would have been no problem but cooking dinner for one man was another matter. He cherished the memory of her growing delight as she began to detect genuine pleasure on his face at mealtimes. Well aware that she could read, write, paint, dance, sing and play the piano better than nigh on anybody else in town, he never blamed her for what she couldn't do - it wasn't her fault that her life had not prepared her to become a part of his.

'But you are just as fine a man as Robert, and I mean that as the highest compliment. He built a position from nothing in the society into which he was born and you did the same in yours. You know how respected you are in Four Corners, by people who do not offer their respect lightly. I am, and always have been, proud of you.'

He squeezed her tightly, relieved that she thought he'd done as well by her as he had always known she'd done by him. 'Y'all never worried that I was jus' gold-diggin' then?'

'No, never.'

'How could y'know? Back then, I mean.'

'I'd already met plenty of men who were. I think I would have recognized it. Besides, one cannot waste one's life in being too careful. Charles taught me that. He knew that the cost of his kind of love might be his life and yet he thought it worth such a price. How could I then measure its value in terms of mere money?'

'Hard t'see how your brothers could be s'different.'

'Yes, I have wondered about that. Do you think my mother might have been less demure than she always appeared?'

Vin shifted to look down at her, unsure that he'd understood her right. She had the mischievous smile that she always wore when she felt she was being a little daring. It was such times that made him aware of the gulf in their upbringing and education. In some ways, she was so proper but then, without meaning any harm by it, she would say something that he couldn't conceive of voicing himself. He would never imply that his sorely missed Ma had put her favors about outside her marriage but Helena could suggest such a thing without intending any slight on her mother's memory. He took the question at face value.

'Don't reckon so. Y'all three looked too much alike.'

'And too much like our father,' she agreed, a little sadly he thought. 'Sometimes, when Thomas was unkind, I used to pretend that he wasn't related to us at all, but wanting something doesn't make it true.'

The carriage jolted to a halt.

'Well, let's get ourselves a good night's sleep. Mebbe things'll look better in the mornin'.'

Without waiting for the footman to open the door, he jumped lightly down and held his hand up to Helena.

''Night, boys,' he called up to the driver and footman above.

'Goodnight, sir,' came the respectful reply.

As he ushered Helena through the unlocked front door, Vin was about to remark that it must be past Hodgkins' bedtime when the man appeared from the staff corridor and strode swiftly across the hall.

'I'm sorry we've kept you up so late,' Helena told him.

'Not at all, ma'am...'

Vin knew instantly that there was something on his mind.

'What is it?' Helena asked anxiously.

Hodgkins shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to another. It was the first time that Vin had seen him anything less than self-possessed.

'Perhaps, sir, you might like to bid the Master goodnight before you retire.'

The butler had never presumed to suggest to Vin that he might like to do anything before, and so he knew instantly that it was a coded request for him to intervene in a matter that a servant did not consider it fitting to speak of directly. He scowled.

'Oh, I'll say goodnight, don't you worry.'

He'd already taken two strides towards the main staircase when Helena managed to grab his arm.

'No.' He pushed her hand away. 'Not this time.'

She shook her head to dismiss the idea that she was trying to stop him. 'Fetch your gun first.'

'Her Ladyship's advice is sound, sir. The Master keeps a revolver in his room.'

Vin nodded. 'Stay down here with Hodgkins, Ellie.'

He didn't emphasize the instruction because he knew he didn't need to. She would do as he said, not because she was afraid for herself - though she almost certainly was - but because she knew that worrying about her could get him killed. Her dislike of violence might sometimes come between them but it also meant that she took the dangers more seriously than some fools he'd had the misfortune to know.

He ran lightly up the staircase and made it to his room in under a minute. It took him twice that to find where William had put his gun when he unpacked. He checked it over carefully before loading. He hadn't touched the weapon since leaving home and had used it only for shooting vermin for years before that. The town had become too civilized for a man to need a gun to defend himself most of the time and JD had surprised them all with the way he'd matured into the job of Sheriff. No taller than he'd ever been, he'd still managed to develop stature of a different kind through his just and diligent approach to his duties.

Vin smiled grimly to himself. His early life had not instilled complacency into his nature, and so his aim was as carefully practiced as ever. His eyesight was no longer as keen as it once was, just as Chris's reflexes were no longer as fast as they once were, but they remained unsurpassed by anyone else in the vicinity. As he buckled on his gun belt, he reflected that Danforth would be a fool to draw down on a man born in the Wild West. Perhaps he'd never heard about the feats achieved by the relics in Buffalo Bill's show, which Vin recalled had traveled to Scotland some years before but not, to his knowledge, to southern England.

When he crossed the second floor to the wing Danforth had taken over after his father's death, Vin walked quickly but more stealthily. His host might not expect him to return to Thurley after the earlier argument and surely would not expect him to enter a part of the building that he had no reason to use. As it happened, Vin knew the way to the Danforths' quarters because Helena had given him a full tour one day when her brother was out. His remarkable spatial memory served him as well in a maze of passages and doors as it did in the wilderness. He didn't need to hear the noises inside to identify Caroline's bedroom.

He listened for a second or two, absorbing the fact that his brother-in-law did not regularly share a bed with his wife at the same time as he discovered why visits to her private chamber were surely unwelcome. The swooshes and thwacks were instantly recognizable, bringing the scars on Prince's hide vividly back into Vin's mind, and spurred him into action. He was already in the act of throwing the door open while still considering that Danforth was in his wife's room, and therefore probably unarmed, and that at least one hand was occupied for the moment.

Vin crossed the room in three angry strides, grabbed the riding crop from Danforth with his left hand and shoving him fiercely backwards with his right. A fleeting glance revealed Caroline sobbing into a pillow, her undergarments torn from her body and her back criss-crossed with livid weals. Vin tossed the crop from his left to right hand and brought it whistling down across Danforth's upper arm with all his might. He chose the spot knowingly, right on a muscle and in a place where the man had only the thin cotton of his shirt to protect him. Without hesitating, he took another swipe back across the other arm.

Danforth glowered up at him.

Vin glared back and then did something that he'd never done in a fight before. He drew back his foot and then, slowly and deliberately, buried his boot in Danforth's crotch. That surely proved beyond doubt that he was no gentleman but he wanted to hurt this man as badly as he'd been hurting his wife and he knew no better way to achieve that result. Danforth hunched over, clutching his testicles and moaning. Taking no chances, Vin grabbed a handful of silk stockings from an open drawer and trussed his victim up tight.

'You give me any trouble,' he warned, 'And you'll get another one where it hurts.'

'If you were any kind of man,' Danforth managed to whisper. 'You'd issue a challenge in a lady's defense.'

'If you were any kinda man, I mighta done.'

He yanked Danforth to his feet and shoved him through to his own room. Still favoring caution, he bound his brother-in-law to the foot of the bedstead before heading back to the top of the stairs. Helena and Hodgkins stood side by side, both gazing anxiously upwards.

'Ellie, c'mon up. Hodgkins, send Polly up with whatever she's got that'll soothe a whippin'.' The butler nodded and began to turn away. 'An' Hodgkins?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Best if y'all steer clear o' the Master's room f'now. He ain't feelin' too sprightly.'

Hodgkins indulged himself in a rare smile. 'Very good, sir.'

 

- 10 -

When Vin returned to Caroline's room half an hour later, she was lying on her side in the bed. She had stopped crying but her dazed expression owed more to shock than peace. Helena was stroking her hair, looking almost as shocked but in a different way. He assumed Polly must have gone back downstairs.

'She okay?' he asked in a low voice, barely audible.

'I think so,' she replied, just as softly. 'Her pulse is strong and steady now - I had feared for her heart.'

He nodded. Helena took an active interest in many things, including Nathan's clinic, and he respected her ability to make a sound judgment. Danforth would be easier to manage if they could offer him confidentiality, and bringing in a doctor would not assist them in that. Caroline's eyes had been flitting around erratically, not seeming to take anything in, but now they settled on him. She frowned.

'It's okay,' he tried to reassure her.

'I'm so sorry,' she murmured.

'You ain't got nothin' t'be sorry for. What the Hell kinda man raises a hand to his wife, let alone a whip?'

'So sorry,' she repeated.

He wondered if she had even heard him.

'Try not to worry,' Helena said. 'You're going to be fine.'

Caroline shifted to look at Vin more easily.

'I have been so rude about you, Vin, about you both but especially you. And yet you have been nothing but honorable to me. My husband was so wrong about you.' She reached tentatively for Helena's hand. 'I thought you such a fool to give up all this for a nobody, a common man with no title and no money.'

Her candor took Vin aback for a moment. He'd known that was likely what Helena's family and friends thought but it was the first time he'd heard anybody but her brother admit it. Then, recovering his composure, he smiled.

'Ain't nothin' wrong with speakin' the truth, I ain't got a title and I ain't got much money, leastwise not the sort of money you're talkin' about.'

'Those things no longer seem as wonderful to me as they once did. I see so little company these days, and then always my husband's friends, that I had forgotten that not every man is like him.' She began to cry again. 'It has been so long since a day passed without my wondering when I would offend him and earn a rebuke. It was only when I saw Helena stand up to him that I realized what a coward I am.'

Helena squeezed her hand. 'No, not a coward. It's easy for me, knowing that I have Vin to defend me, but I remember what it was like before I accompanied Charles into exile. Thomas made his life a misery until he agreed to leave. There has always been that cruel side to him - I thought it was just because he felt so strongly about that matter but I see now that it's in everything he does. You must leave him, Caroline.'

'But where would I go? Think how vindictive he would be. He wants me to die, not leave.'

'You could go to France or Italy,' Helena suggested gently. 'Both are beautiful countries. My brother will take a villa for you and tell people that you have gone to Europe for the climate, for your health.'

Vin saw brief hope in the woman's eyes and then the fear that chased it away.

'He would find a way to ruin it.'

'I don't think you need concern yourself about that. I believe I have something that I can hold over him, just as he has held things over others to impose his will on them.'

That was news to Vin but he expected he'd be hearing about it all in good time.

'For now,' Helena went on, 'Polly will pack your things and we'll take to stay with the Melbournes.'

Caroline fell back into her dazed silence. Helena looked up at Vin.

'Polly's packing my things now and William will pack yours.' He nodded. 'Would you bring my writing slope for me?'

He smiled and went to do as she asked. He had no idea what she had in mind but hoped the scheme would be enough to save Caroline. Threats of a conventional sort were unlikely to protect her once he was back on the far side of the Atlantic Ocean. He stuck his head around his own door first.

'Hey, William. You okay takin' care o' this lot?'

'Of course, sir.' William's handsome face was serious. 'I was sorry to hear that you would be leaving so soon.'

Vin nodded his appreciation of the sentiment. 'Wish I could say I was sorry t'be goin'.'

William nodded sadly.

'Take my advice. Get y'self another job.'

William shook his head. 'A good butler makes more difference to my life than a bad master.'

Vin considered that as he walked along the corridor. Hodgkins probably took the brunt of Danforth's contrariness and, if he was the kind of man who could keep that to himself and treat the rest of the staff fairly, William was probably making the right choice. He tapped on Helena's door, which he guessed was probably not the correct form but, as far as he was concerned, Polly was a woman entitled to the same courtesy as any other. When she opened the door for him, he could see she'd been crying.

'M'wife wants her writing slope.'

Polly nodded and brought it from a trunk that she'd been filling.

'I'm sorry everything turned out so badly,' she said tremulously.

'Reckon we all are. William says he'll stick it out here anyhow - will y'do the same?'

'Thurley is my home. I was born here. My children were born here.'

Vin smiled reassuringly. 'Well, my brother-in-law ain't gonna live f'r'ever. M'wife tells me the estate'll pass to her cousin, Randolph, and…,' he hesitated, realized that he didn't know the correct way to refer to Sally, and settled for, 'Mrs. Melbourne tells us he's a decent fella.'

'Yes, sir, he is. And young too.'

Vin understood then that the staff knew the future of the estate only too well and were eagerly awaiting the day that it changed hands again. Danforth was just a temporary tribulation for them, a bad boss like any other, and they - or their children - would still be there when the worms were eating their fill.

'Your boy knows his way around a horse. I reckon the new Master'll be right pleased with him.'

Polly blushed and curtsied prettily. 'Thank you, sir.'

He took the satinwood slope along to Caroline's room, where he found his sister-in-law sleeping and his wife looking thoughtfully out of the window into the blackness beyond. He set the slope down on Caroline's desk. Helena opened it, lifted the tray inside to reveal the compartment below, and took out a slim volume bound in gilded leather. He'd seen her look through it in the past but, as she had many books, he'd never had cause to ask about it before.

'What's that?'

She looked up at him, still pensive.

'Charles's memoirs.'

The answer took him by surprise, and it was a few seconds before their significance sank in. He raised his eyebrows. She nodded and held the book out to him. Although he'd never developed a liking for reading, much preferring to hear stories in her clear and expressive voice, he could now scan a document as proficiently as most people. He flicked through the pages, noting the artistic and anatomically correct drawings as well as the fluent and explicit prose. He whistled.

'What y'all thinkin' on doin' with it?' He suspected he already knew.

'Blackmailing Thomas.'

Appreciating the poetic justice of such a scheme, he grinned. 'Sounds good t'me.'

They went through to Danforth's room, closing both doors behind them. The deal they planned to offer was for his ears only. Vin took great delight in displaying the most scandalous pages for his captive's inspection while Helena explained how she intended to use the book if he failed to comply with their conditions.

'You would publish this... filth?' Danforth squawked at her. 'Drag our name through the mud... all for that barren trollop?'

Vin noted how it did not seem to occur to the man that his sister was also childless and likely only to be further incensed by such insults. It was almost as if he lacked the ability to put himself in another person's place and realize how they might feel. Helena did not rise to the remark but carried on in the same reasonable tone.

'Your name, Thomas, not mine. My name, and one I carry with pride, is now Mrs. Vin Tanner.'

Vin decided to add a condition of his own, one he'd been thinking on but hadn't discussed with Helena.

'An' I'll be takin' that stallion back where he came from, while we're at it.'

First surprise and then outrage crossed Danforth's face.

'I fail to see what business my stables are of yours.'

Vin said nothing.

'That cripple can't even ride him.'

'Well, then, that makes two of you, don't it?'

The outrage deepened into fury. Danforth's complexion grew paler even as his expression grew darker. Still glaring at Vin, he spoke to Helena. 'You should never have come back.'

'I'm afraid you're right,' Helena admitted. She was on the edge of tears. 'But what's done can't be undone. If you accept these conditions, you will neither see nor hear from me again.'

There was a long silence but Vin knew Danforth would eventually agree, because they had left him so little choice. Even if he thought he could weather accusations of wife-beating, there was no way that he wanted households all over England to be deriding his brother's private life as he had Wilde's.

Hours later, finally alone with Helena in their new quarters in the Melbourne household, Vin crushed her against himself.

'S'lucky your brother don't know you none too well.'

'Why is that?'

'You'd never publish that journal.'

'What makes you think not?'

'Cause you wouldn't wanna hurt the wives and kids them fellas have likely got themselves now.'

She kissed him. 'Well, then, it certainly is lucky that my brother isn't as smart as my husband.' Another kiss. 'And thank you for being such a good husband, Vin.'

He grinned. 'Till the next time I tick you off.'

She smiled but shook her head. 'I mean it. I never expected that you would beat me but, seeing how many ways Thomas has found to make people unhappy, I wonder if I have not appreciated you as much as I should.'

'Ain't hard t'be a good husband to a good wife,' he told her sincerely. 'Reckon that's what makes a marriage - bringin' out the best in each other, 'stead o' the worst.'

'You could be right at that,' she admitted. 'Perhaps you missed your vocation as a philosopher.'

'Well, when I git too old t'be doin' much, mebbe I'll sit around ponderin'. Seems t'suit Josiah pretty good.' He laughed. 'But I ain't that old yet an' I got other things on my mind right now.'

'Really?'

'Oh, yeah. And we got a nice big featherbed lookin' all lonely over there.'

With that, he tumbled her onto it and set about taking his payment for being such a good husband.

 

- 11 -

Staying with Sally and Robert was so pleasant that it almost made up for all that had gone before. Vin had known plenty of kind people in his life but he would have been hard pressed to name many who found such happiness in making other people's lives enjoyable. If Danforth confirmed the deepest republican prejudices about the aristocracy, the Melbournes did much to undermine them.

Not only were guests made to feel like royalty but staff were made to feel like family. Vin saw tens, if not hundreds, of people benefiting from Robert's wealth, living in good housing and doing a fair day's work for a fair day's pay. He was glad to see that kindness bred respect: everywhere people took pride in their labors, making the estate a pleasure to ride around, an activity that had become his contribution to the household. Finding his help welcome in the stables, he made sure that all the horses were kept well exercised and enjoyed learning how to school them in the English manner. Each day ended in convivial conversation over dinner, to which he contributed after his own terse fashion, and then, sometimes, in dancing.

Even so, he found himself longing for home. Helena seemed so content that he was slow to ask when they might leave. He began to wonder whether she still considered the humble house he had built for her with his own hands home. Eventually, when he could put it off no more, he raised the subject one night in bed.

'I was wonderin',' he said softly, kissing the back of her neck, 'When we might think on headin' home.'

He had never felt so uncertain of anything in their relationship as he did then, of her answer and of his own reaction to it. She twisted her head to look at him.

'After we see the Queen next week. That's what we planned, isn't it?'

He wasn't aware they'd had a plan as such, but Helena sometimes chided him for not listening to a word she said. That wasn't entirely fair but he had to admit his mind was apt to wander when she chattered on, and he was apt to pretend he knew what she'd said sooner than admit he hadn't been paying much mind.

'Yeah,' he agreed smoothly. 'It's just that y'all seemed so settled. I wasn't sure if you'd changed y'mind.'

She rolled over to face him. 'Don't be silly. Your home is back with Chris, and everything you've built up there together. And my home is with you.' Her expression softened. 'Don't you think I know that you could never settle here? And don't you know that I could never be without you?'

'I knew there was some reason I fell f'you, that's f'sure.'

'You've always made me so happy, Vin. They say the Queen's romance with the Prince Consort was like a fairytale, you know. They were so in love that she never recovered after his death.' She smiled. 'I know how she must have felt and I'm glad you are so strong - I don't ever want to have to live without you.'

'Y'won't have to,' he murmured, 'Not as long as I have any say in it, anyhow.'

He moved over her, needing to express his love with more than words, and she responded by putting her legs around his hips and drawing him into her. Her wordless invitation sent his blood pulsing to where it was needed and his cock was hard before it reached her. Even as he slipped inside, he recalled Robert's remark about fulfilling his marital obligations. The notion had not repulsed him, perhaps because he was more able than most to see past a man's body and into his soul, but he was thankful that he and Helena had not faced such a challenge. He thought their love would have proved solid but no one wanted a test like the one the Melbournes had passed with such flying colors. As it was, they had grown older together. He still thought her lovely and, if he was to believe what she told him, she still thought him handsome.

Usually, he was an attentive lover, carefully stimulating his wife until she was gasping with pleasure, but sometimes he lingered on his own satisfaction, spending as long inside her as he could and relishing the basic act of joining their bodies together. She always judged his mood with uncanny precision, savoring the best of his love-making when he offered it but responding to his other moods just as warmly.

Supporting his weight on his forearms, he covered her face with kisses while making slow, steady thrusts into her body. He knew she would not climax - she never did without his touch on the nub of flesh above the entrance to her body - but he also knew she would not mind. When they made love like that, she always watched him throughout, eyes sparkling with the knowledge that she was giving him an experience that set every nerve in his body ablaze. He knew there was something primal in the dominance of his coupling, the urge to take his mate and leave her filled with his seed and covered with his scent, but he was not a man to be shamed by his instincts.

 

- 12 -

A week later, they were enjoying a champagne picnic in Robert and Sally's carriage and waiting for the Royal party to pass through the local market town of Petersfield. Vin doubted that even the Queen's household could surpass the Melbourne cavalcade. Every horse and vehicle in the stables had been turned out to accommodate them all, although some of the boys still had to run alongside. There was a real carnival atmosphere, as they toasted the Queen, the Empire, the United States of America, themselves and anything else they could think of. Vin had already lost track of how much he'd drunk and was starting to feel quite light-headed. When he stumbled over his own toast, made with feeling to absent friends, the others laughed merrily.

'That's champagne for you,' Robert commiserated. 'Devilish stuff.' He leaned forward and lowered his voice, even though there was no way that would stop the women from hearing his words, and added, 'Makes you very eager to try your luck, and completely unable to deliver, in my experience at least.'

'Papa!' Christine rebuked him, blushing furiously.

Robert managed a slow wink at her. 'You should know these things, sweetheart, now you're becoming a woman. It will help you plan your strategy.'

'Robert!' Sally protested but Vin could see how pleased she was to see her husband in such high spirits.

The Melbournes' butler tapped respectfully on the window and then opened the door.

'We hear that the Royal party has reached the outskirts of town,' he told them.

Christine clapped her hands. 'How wonderful!'

She jumped down to join the staff in looking eagerly down the road. Vin smiled, still surprised by the affection and respect that the Queen inspired in so many of her subjects. He'd read plenty of dissenting voices, from anti-monarchists within the country to freedom-fighters across the Empire, but perhaps their freedom to voice their views was one indication that the system was not as bad as they claimed. He stepped down and joined the vigil.

It was no hardship for him to take part in the festivities, given that he liked Petersfield, a place filled with things he understood, from livestock to watering holes, and surrounded by the pastoral beauty of the South Downs. He'd been into market several times, inspecting at close quarters the livestock he'd admired at a distance in the fields. Standing beside the biggest of the bulls was an awesome experience, even for a man who in truth preferred his livestock less fancy bred - he reckoned they had to be twice the weight of a steer back home.

'They're going to plant a chestnut tree on the green to commemorate the Jubilee, you know, Mr. Tanner?'

'That so? Well, I guess you already got a statue,' he nodded towards William III, astride an impressive steed and bizarrely attired in Roman garb.

'Hideous, isn't he?' she giggled. 'No, a tree will be much nicer than another monument. In a hundred years, it will live on when everything else from this time has passed away... you... me... everything.'

She was right: it was a comforting thought and echoed the stability that he saw around him. In one way, those things crowded him, making him feel that a man was inconsequential in the grand scheme, but, in another, it made him feel that nothing anyone did could be so bad, when life went on with so little change from one century to the next. He knew that was not how it felt to these people, clinging to their traditions to cope with the pace of change everywhere else, but it was how it felt to him.

'Here she comes,' Christine whispered.

He didn't need to be told which was the Queen's carriage. He knew it from its size, grandeur, the crests on its doors and the way it formed the center segment of the long black millipede crawling towards them. As the servants' grapevine had so reliably predicted, it eventually stopped outside the Market Inn. It was only to be a brief halt, to water the horses and offer refreshments to the passengers, but the crowds were undaunted by the incidental nature of the visit. All along the streets, everyone - from the eldest right down to the smallest child - cheered their monarch and waved their flags.

Vin looked around to find Helena and Sally helping Robert down from the carriage. He went back to offer his stronger support, taking most of Robert's weight but careful to avoid any suggestion of carrying him. Leaning heavily on Vin's arm, Robert made his way forward. Vin took a spot directly behind him, ready to catch him if his strength failed but glad to see that he managed to stay on his feet, his wife on one arm and his daughter on the other. When Helena came to his side, Vin put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her.

There was a collective gasp when the door of the Queen's carriage opened. All those breaths were released in an audible sigh of disappointment when a lady-in-waiting stepped down. The tension was palpable when she turned back to the carriage and reached inside. She lifted out three little dogs, useless bundles of fur the like of which Vin had never seen, and then stood to one side to let a footman offer his assistance.

There were murmurs of excitement all around Vin. He knew that everyone had been hoping to see the Queen, while expecting to see only her carriage. They could hardly believe their luck now that she might take a turn around their Market Square. If he had been asked to describe a queen before his marriage familiarized him with the whole idea, Vin would have envisioned a tall and stately figure, standing straight and commanding respect. Of course, he knew that Queen Victoria was very old, and so he'd already made some allowance for that, but he had not expected her to be quite so short, fat and infirm. He watched, fascinated, as she leaned heavily on a stick and waved stiffly to her subjects, while her dogs peed in the background. It struck him as a comic sight and he contained his mirth only with difficulty.

Helena looked up at him and smiled. Knowing she'd read his mind, he shrugged and smiled back.

'Happy, Ellie?'

'Oh, yes, Vin.' She leaned against him. 'I know it seems silly, but there won't be another chance.'

He nodded. The Queen would soon be dead and Helena would probably never return to England. Seeing the Royal rest stop meant nothing to him but enabling his wife to see it meant more than he could have put into words. He knew difficult days lay ahead, filled with sad farewells and then countless miles of travel before they reached home, but this would be a day that she could treasure for the rest of her life, surrounded by friends and celebrating sixty years of a reign that had seen her country's Empire extend so far that it was true what people said - the sun never set on all of it at once.

 

- 13 -

Only a month or so shy of a year after their departure, Vin waited impatiently for the train to reach Crow Halt. It was the nearest stop to Four Corners, which was passed by when the railroad was eventually completed. When the station came into view, the excitement that he'd managed to keep firmly in check until then got the better of him. He peered through his spyglass.

'Are they there?' Helena wanted to know.

He scanned the platform, then spotted the figure he'd been looking for. There was Chris, standing as straight and slim as ever, his willowy wife at his side.

'Yeah.'

She squeezed his arm, so hard that it was almost a pinch.

A minute or so later, the train was screeching to a halt in a cloud of steam and smoke. Helena fairly tumbled out of the car and into Mary's arms. Vin stepped down behind her, met Chris's eye and nodded. Chris returned the gesture with a slow white smile. The greeting echoed the one they'd exchanged on the day they first met, nearly a quarter of a century before.

'Anythin' happen I need to know about?' Vin asked.

His only real anxiety was for Josiah, hale and hearty when they left but still getting to be an old man.

Chris gave a slight shake of his head. 'Good trip?'

'Good t'be home.'

Chris raised an eyebrow.

Vin grinned and shrugged.

No doubt Helena would tell Mary everything, and Mary would pass it on, but all the words in the world would tell their husbands no more than those few seconds of silent communion. Leaving the porter to load the luggage, they headed for the buggy with their wives chattering behind them.

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The title comes from 'The Anniversary', published in Songs and Sonnets by John Donne (1572-1631):

All other things, to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay; This, no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday, Running it never runs from us away, But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

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