Page 36 of A Gathering Storm

The faint whiff of humour in that response made the tightness in Ward’s chest ease minutely. “Mother said I spent too much time with books and not enough with other children when I was a boy.”

“She’s probably right,” Nicholas said, and shook his head. “I dread to think of how you’ll get on at that séance.”

Impulsively, Ward said, “Why don’t you come with me then?”

“What?”

“Come to Mr. Bryant’s séance in Truro with me. It’s a week on Saturday. You can keep an eye on me that way, can’t you?”

Nicholas opened his mouth—Ward was sure to refuse—then he closed it again and thought.

“All right,” he said at last, surprising Ward. “Why not? I’ve not been to Truro in an age.”

Ward’s grin widened. He felt quite suddenly and giddily happy. “I was planning to leave on Friday afternoon. The séance isn’t till Saturday evening but I thought to stay the extra night and spend the day in town, then return on Sunday. Will that suit you?” As soon as the words were out, it occurred to him that Godfrey Roscarrock might not like his land steward disappearing for several days and added quickly, “I can amend my plans if it does not.”

“No, that sounds fine,” Nicholas said, “if you’re sure you’ve the stomach for so much of my company.”

“I think I could bear your company for a sight longer than three days,” Ward replied. “You will be the one begging for respite from me.”

“You think so?”

“I’m a terrible travelling companion. I tend to forget I have company.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Well, if that’s the worst of it, I think I’ll be all right. I’m capable of amusing myself.”

They gazed at one another for a long moment, Ward still smiling like a fool. Nicholas was the first to look away, a faint flush over his high cheekbones.

“All right, then,” he said briskly. “Now that’s settled, I’m going to finish my dinner, though it’s probably cold by now.”

He took his seat again. Ward did likewise and discovered that he was hungry after all.

19th June 1853

The next Sunday, when Nick arrived at Varhak Manor, Ward once again suggested they go down to the Hole.

“The upper platforms are all in place now. I thought we could climb down and have a go at putting you into a trance down there.”

Nick raised a brow. “What about the sea spurts? How can I possibly concentrate while I’m being soaked with saltwater spray?”

Ward grinned. “Let’s give it a try. I don’t think it’s impossible. After all, I managed to go into a trance on board ship in the midst of a violent storm.”

“Hmmm.”

Ward elbowed Nick. “Come on. We’ll take oilskins with us so you won’t get too wet.”

Nick sighed. “Fine. I’ll give it a try.”

He tried to ignore the warm feeling Ward’s triumphant look gave him. The satisfaction he got from pleasing Ward troubled him.

It was a blustery day and the whistling, buffeting winds made conversation nigh on impossible on their way to the Hole, but Nick was happy to walk in silence. These last weeks, he’d discovered that Ward—sometimes eccentric, sometimes difficult—was actually a surprisingly easy person to be with. Not just easy to talk to, but easy to be quiet with too.

Ward seemed to understand Nick’s occasional need for silence, a need that went hand in hand with a somewhat contradictory and bone-deep loneliness right at Nick’s core. He found it difficult to reconcile these two complementary yet warring aspects of his character: his need for isolation, and how alone that isolation could make him feel.

From what Ward had said of his life, especially of that long period of childhood sickness, it was plain that he too had spent a great deal of time alone. Despite that—or maybe because of it—like Nick, he chose to go about his life in a way that guaranteed the continuance of his solitary ways.

Nick had thought that loneliness was the price he paid for preserving something more important and fundamental about who he was. But since he’d met Ward, Nick did not feel so lonely, not even when they were apart. He wasn’t sure why that should be, and in truth, it troubled him sometimes. What business did Ward have, easing Nick’s loneliness? Nick hadn’t asked to be his friend.

He glanced at the man who plagued his thoughts. Ward was trudging along beside him, one hand deep in the pocket of his coat, the other holding his hat in place, an overstuffed knapsack, packed with oilskins, bumping against his hip.