And then astonishment. Lying beside him, matching her breathing to his, wondering how anything could be so wonderful as this feeling. And sensing, with awe and wonder, that he felt the same.
When she awoke in the half-light and found herself alone she was sad but not dismayed. She’d more than half expected this and besides, dismay was for faint hearts. No woman could be faint-hearted after such a night of loving. All the passion he couldn’t put into words had been there in his arms, his lips, his caresses that had been tender and purposeful, his loins that had claimed her like a man possessed.
And that was true. He had been possessed by another self, a self who could love and give openly and without fear. And one day, with her help, that other self would claim him completely, and she would awake to find him still in her bed, sleeping trustingly beside her, his arms about her, his face buried in her flesh as though he’d finally found his refuge.
She promised herself that, as she lay there in the quiet dawn.
As the last wedding guest departed Benedict carefully packed up his things, ready to leave. But he was detained a little longer by Meryl, who had something to show him.
She took him to Little Grands and introduced him to Sadie. Benedict was as thrilled with the knits as she’d known he would be, and with her help he went the rounds of the farms where he found women knitting to a standard that had him chortling with delight. There were discussions, chaired by Meryl. Contracts were arranged. Benedict put his head together with Sadie, and when she’d shown him some more of her designs and he’d filtered her ideas through his own needs, they discovered they had evolved a style.
It took three days to set up. Jarvis observed mildly that she seemed to be very busy and Meryl debated the wisdom of telling him details about the knitting. But she couldn’t forget how dismissive he’d been when she first mentioned the idea. It would be better to wait until she could show some real results. So she said merely that she’d spent the time showing Benedict the district, and Jarvis forbore to ask questions.
On the day of Benedict’s departure Ferdy called to ferry them across the water. Jarvis went down to the boat with them, cheerfully carrying bales of wedding dress material. The original luxurious dress that Meryl had rejected was carried by Benedict, who was a mass of nerves as it was transferred to the boat.
‘It seems a shame to waste it after all the work you put in,’ Jarvis observed.
‘Waste it?’ Benedict was scandalised. ‘It’s my masterpiece. It’ll crown my first show in the new premises.’
‘Well, get to work or there won’t be any new show,’ Meryl commanded.
‘There’s a lot of formalities-’
‘I know, I know. I’ve told you I’ll make a flying visit as soon as you’ve found somewhere, and we’ll sign the lease, hire the staff and I’ll stick my nose in until I drive you crazy.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Benedict said mournfully. ‘Darling, it will be a flying visit, won’t it? Flying, as in-you’ll only stay five minutes?’
‘I’ll send you flying into the water in a moment,’ Meryl observed.
‘Does this take much longer, or shall we just wait for the tide to go out?’ Ferdy asked of nobody in particular.
‘Coming,’ Meryl sang out. Benedict and Ferdy helped her into the boat. She waved at Jarvis, calling, ‘I’ll back tonight,’ as the boat moved off.
He waved back, uncertain whether to be dismayed that she was going to New York, pleased that Benedict didn’t want her to stay long, or furious because he’d called her darling.
Jarvis had once called Meryl a hothouse flower, and in the world she’d left the seasons were largely artificial. A treadmill took her from Manhattan to Los Angeles in search of parties, and to Paris or Milan in search of fashion, for she didn’t live in Benedict’s creative pocket. But the nearest she came to following nature was when she headed to the Caribbean in winter.
Now she was living in a place where only nature’s calendar counted. April was the month for sowing cereals, the time when a farmer survived or didn’t by the condition of his soil and often by his ability to beg or borrow the money for fertiliser. To Jarvis’s tenants, hanging on grimly after a succession of misfortunes, his marriage had come just in time to enrich the soil for that year’s sowing.
‘If we’d married a few weeks later it might have been too late for them,’ she put to him one day. They’d been riding the countryside on horses hired from Sarah’s stable, and had stopped off to let the beasts drink from a stream.
‘Not might have been, would have been,’ he replied quietly.
‘But you didn’t take enough from me, did you? That man we were with this morning-the one who was showing me the machine for planting potatoes-’
That made Jarvis grin. Farmer Bannion was a machine enthusiast, and there’d been no escape until he’d shown Meryl the special planter that he hitched to his tractor for potatoes, delivering a commentary without pausing for breath.
‘It – makes – the – furrows – so – that – the – rotating – wheel – drops – the – seed -potatoes – in – then – it – turns – the – soil – over – them – otherwise – the – potatoes – go – green – in – the – light. Of course – sometimes – you – want – them – to – have – a – bit – of – light – so – that – they – sprout – early – but – then – you’ve – got – to – be – careful-’
Meryl, trying not to let her eyes glaze, had come away with only one thought.
‘His machine’s on its last legs,’ she told Jarvis now. ‘He needs a new one. You could make him an interest-free loan-’
‘It would be too late now.’
‘Just what I’m saying. You should have married me earlier and insisted on a bigger dowry.’ She nudged him in the ribs. ‘See what you get for being stubborn.’
‘Well, I’m not used to marrying for money,’ he said, nettled. ‘I don’t know how it’s supposed to be done.’
‘You fraud. You swore to Larry that you were a hardened mercenary. The fact is, you’re just a beginner.’
‘I’m not planning to make a career of it.’
She went to the stream where the horses were drinking and splashed some water over her face. He watched her, elegant in her riding habit, her glorious hair out of sight for once. Only last night that hair had streamed over her shoulders and breasts while he kissed her, unseen and unseeing.
Not by so much as a word or a look had she ever hinted at their secret life. By day they faced each other, smiling, fencing, sleekly armoured, each waiting for the other to whisper, I was the one you held in your arms last night.
But so far neither had yielded an inch.
With water in her eyes she fumbled for her handkerchief but couldn’t find it. Grinning, he offered her his own clean one.
‘Thanks.’ She sat down on a rock. ‘We must rethink the whole thing,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Must we?’ he asked in an expressionless voice.
‘Yes. I’ll put a lump sum on deposit so that you can make them interest-free loans, and-’ She looked up. He was staring out over the water and the sight gave her a little spurt of temper. ‘All right, I put it the wrong way,’ she said irritably. ‘Rephrase it any way you like. I’m tired of dancing on pins just because you’ve got the pride of the devil.’
He was instantly contrite, coming to sit on the rock beside her. ‘I meet your generosity very shabbily, don’t I?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She was too disappointed to be diplomatic.
To her surprise he slipped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry for being such a bear. I don’t really know how to accept kindness.’