Page 57 of Hold Me Fast
Tamsyn tried to sit up, but her head reeled, and Evangeline moved quickly to support her and to shift her pillows to prop her upright. “Don’t try to do anything, my friend. That horrible man gave you too much laudanum, and the doctor says you must be very careful in case your heart has been damaged.”
That prompted another memory. “I told him I had not had any opium or alcohol since I left him, but he did not believe me. Willard laughed,” Tamsyn said, the words flowing more easily now.
“The doctor will want to know you are awake, and so will Bran and Patricia. I will be back in just a moment, and I shall bring you something to drink.” Evangeline left the room and a moment later, Tamsyn’s maid slipped inside.
“Oh, Miss. We was that worried. Do you be well now, Miss?”
“A little weak, but grateful to all the village,” Tamsyn told her. She was too tired to say more, though she had, from the light, slept away the morning. The maid must have realized because she busied herself with her mending, and Tamsyn let her eyes close while she waited for Evangeline to return.
She brought Jowan with her. “I had to let him up, Tamsyn,” she said. “He insisted that he needed to see you with his own eyes.” She frowned at Jowan. “You can only stay a moment.”
Jowan crossed the room to take Tamsyn’s hand in his own. “Coombe is dead, Tamsyn. He won’t trouble you ever again. Nor will Willard or Marco.”
The whole room went waltzing this time. Tamsyn pressed the back of her head into the pillows and shut her eyes till the dizziness abated, and Evangeline scolded, “Jowan! You must not alarm her like that.”
“No,” Tamsyn insisted. “It is good. I needed to know.” She smiled into Jowan’s worried eyes. “I am safe. You said you would protect me, and you have.”
He shook his head. “I let you get hurt. I am sorry, Tamsyn. It was my fault. I should have kept the guards on your cottage.”
“Out,” Evangeline ordered. “These discussions can wait until Tamsyn is well again. Go away, Jowan. Go and get some sleep. Now, Tamsyn, I have some ginger tea for you. Your stomach is probably a little sore, so nothing to eat until we see whether you can keep this down.”
Tamsyn was watching Jowan leave the room, his eyes lingering on hers for as long as his head was still within her sight. It took her a moment to catch up with what Evangeline had said. “Thank you, Evangeline. I am very thirsty.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Six months later
The day wassunny, though the wind was still bitterly cold. It was good traveling weather. Tamsyn looked up each time she heard a wheeled vehicle passing down the road outside her door, though probably Jowan, if he did come home today, would go straight to Inneford House.
He, Bran, and other witnesses had been in London since the middle of January for the hearing of a committee of the House of Lords, to decide whether the Earl of Coombe was dead—given the absence of any body.
It was just like Coombe to continue causing problems for months after he died.
Indeed, even now that the committee had accepted that Coombe and his murderer lay at the bottom of a mire and that their bodies would probably not ever be recovered, all would not be straightforward for his poor heir, a distant cousin. Coombe, according to Evangeline who had visited yesterday afternoon, had left the poor man a tarnished title, neglected estates, and more debts than assets.
Especially since the solicitor Jowan had engaged on her behalf had made a successful claim against the estate for her past two years’ earnings, opening a floodgate of claims from other performers.
Evangeline had been in London with Bran, but they and others from St Tetha had been arriving back in the village for the past week. The head ostler from the inn, Lord and Lady Trentham, the mine manager, and more.
“No doubt we shall hear when Jowan arrives,” Patricia commented, looking up from the schoolwork she was marking. All three women had taken up Jowan’s suggestion that they involve themselves in the school, but Patricia was slowly taking over from the innkeeper’s wife, and they were talking about adding an extra day of schooling for the children.
Tamsyn was teaching lessons in reading and numbers at the village school, but also music to paying pupils and talented children who could not afford the fee. She was also coaching the church choir.
When the vicar had suggested it several months ago, Tamsyn had been reluctant. “Who am I to coach a church choir?” she had asked Evangeline and Patricia. “With my background?”
“And why shouldn’t you coach the choir?” Patricia had asked. “You are a brilliant singer and a good teacher. And you are a member of the parish. A faithful one, too, who never misses a Sunday.”
Her past should have had her hounded from the church, but when Tamsyn said as much to the vicar, he reminded her that the entire Christian religion was founded on the principles of forgiveness and redemption. And so, Tamsyn coached the church choir.
“I daresay,” Patricia added, “that we shall hear it from Jowan himself, for he shall be anxious to see you after his weeks away.”
Would he? Her, especially? He was her friend. Tamsyn did not doubt that for a moment. But more than that? Months ago, she thought he was courting her. Even when autumn and then winter subjected their thrice-weekly walks to the uncertainties of the weather, he did not stop his visits, instead sitting in the cottage parlor for a couple of hours, talking about every topic under the sun.
He continued to bring her flowers and little gifts, too. But he did not speak words of love. He did not mention marriage. He did not engineer situations in which he could touch her—those possibly accidental touches with which a man initiates a seduction. He did not, not even once, attempt to kiss her, or even look as if he might be going to do so.
Oh certainly, from time to time, desire flared in his eyes. But Tamsyn did not count that. She knew she was desirable in a physical sense. She also knew, beyond a doubt, that she was not a desirable wife for a baronet. Or for anyone else, come to that. Not with her history.
It seemed Jowan had come to the same conclusion. Or, if he had not fully done so before he left St Tetha, he must have by now. Six weeks in London, revisiting the sordid details of her life with the Earl of Coombe must surely have ended any idea he might have had of taking Tamsyn, with all her unwanted baggage, to wife.
