Page 24 of The Case at Castle Rock Cove (Beau Monde Secrets #4)

T he next time Willa called at Marlowe Tower, Ben suggested that they read on the beach, instead of on the cliffs. “I am sure you are better able to tolerate proximity to the ocean now,” he said.

Willa wrinkled her nose. She was not at all certain of that! True, she had grown used to the smell of the sea, and she no longer flinched at the cry of the gulls. But thinking about the depths of the ocean, the force of its waves, and the way it swallowed the whole horizon all unsettled her as much as ever.

“You should at least try sitting on the beach,” Ben coaxed. “I have a blanket, a hamper full of tea things, and the next volume of Terror at Carringford Park. You won’t even notice the ocean, because you will have so many other things occupying your attention!”

His tempting wheedle was too much for her powers of resistance. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. And I would like to find out what happens next.”

A mischievous grin lurked in both the crinkles around Ben’s eyes and the corners of his mouth. “You will hear all sorts of revelations today!” he promised, but he refused to explain further.

Over the last few weeks, Willa and Ben had spent hours reading together on the cliffs above the ocean, but that was very different from sitting on the beach. Every muscle in Willa’s body tensed as she descended the stone stairs leading from the cliffs to the beach. Ben preceded Willa down the staircase. That made her feel a little safer—as if the barrier of his body could protect her from the object of her dread.

To her relief, Ben kept them well away from the water. They stuck to the dry area near the cliffs rather than venturing out onto the damp sand. Ben spread a thick rug over the stony ground, then added a softer blanket for good measure.

Willa sat with her back to the water, curling her legs neatly to one side. She could not escape the soft shhh of the waves lapping at the shore, but this way she did not have to see the water. Even so, the back of her neck prickled with anxiety. What if an enormous wave reached across the beach and splashed them? What if the tide came in and cut them off from the stairs? What if—?

“You will never believe what happened yesterday.” Once Ben had Willa’s attention, he told her about the trap he’d set for his cousin. He relayed the story matter-of-factly, without embellishments or exaggerations, but he clearly relished his moment of triumph.

Willa’s jaw dropped. For once, she completely forgot about the enormous body of water looming behind her back.

“You mean, I missed all that?” She was one part annoyed she’d missed seeing Ben’s moment of triumph and two parts thrilled because Marlowe had confessed.

At least, Marlowe admitted to having known about his sister’s plan to poison their grandfather. He insisted, though, that both the idea of poisoning their grandfather and the administration of the arsenic were Almeria’s doing. Willa had her doubts about that, though. According to Ben’s grandfather, Marlowe stood to inherit much more than Almeria.

“I wish you were there to see the look on his face!” Ben lay back down on the blanket, resting his head on his crossed arms. “Best of all, there were other people on hand to witness his confession. He’ll not be able to wiggle out of these charges!” He sounded almost jubilant—but perhaps that was justified, given how much Marlowe bullied him.

Thinking of the possible consequences, Willa frowned. “Is accessory to murder a capital offense?” She did not particularly want Ben’s cousins to be executed, but she did not want them running around poisoning sweets, either. She hoped there was a chance of their sentences being commuted to life. Juries often did not like to hang young ladies, which might protect Almeria.

Ben’s face fell. “Yes. He and Almeria may very well hang, unless they can convince a jury that the poisoning was an accident of some sort.”

Willa snorted. “How could it be an accident when they poisoned three or four different foods?” She ticked the poisonings off on her fingers. “Poisoned peppermints, poisoned fruitcake, poison in the sugar bowl... am I missing anything?”

“Those are the only poisoned foods I know about,” Ben agreed. “But there could have been earlier poisonings that no one noticed. My grandfather has chronic dyspepsia, after all. It might be easy to mistake arsenic poisoning for one of his regular attacks.”

“I suppose it was rather a clever plan on Almeria’s part,” Willa reluctantly conceded. “But I hope your grandfather recovers. Will he?” She anxiously studied Ben’s face. She ought to have asked after Mr. Marlowe’s welfare earlier.

“Hard to say,” Ben cautioned. “According to Dr. Gladwell, arsenic can sometimes have lasting effects. Grandfather Marlowe is still eating a very limited diet of broth, toast, and tea.” He scrunched up his face. “He refuses to take sugar in his tea anymore.”

“Who can blame him?” Willa shuddered as she thought about how close Ben himself had come to dying. “I suppose we should be grateful that your cousins were not exactly competent poisoners.”

Ben sat up and grinned at her. “Are you sure they were incompetent? Perhaps I am simply a superlative investigator. I should get credit for solving the mystery and forcing a confession. I was quite proud of myself!”

“As you should be.” Willa leaned closer to press a kiss against his cheek.

But Ben turned his head so that her lips instead brushed up against his, transforming what she had intended as a chaste sign of affection into a long, slow kiss that deepened, sending heat coursing through Willa’s veins. By the time Ben broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily.

“The poisoning case is not going to delay the wedding, is it?” Ben asked anxiously. “The magistrate originally wanted us to stay in the area for questioning, but when I explained about our plans, he said he could accept a sworn statement from each of us.” He frowned. “That is, assuming you still want to get married?”

Willa’s heart thudded against her ribs. Was he having doubts? She felt sick as she remembered the condition she’d made when she accepted his proposal. They were both free to back out of the engagement.

“Willa?” Ben prompted. “Are you thinking we ought to end the engagement?”

She licked her lips. “No. No, I am not thinking that. But of course, I entirely understand that you may have been mistaken in your feelings, that—”

He swiftly interrupted her. “I am not mistaken about how much I love you or how much I want to marry you.” An anxious smile wavered across his face. “I would marry you tomorrow if I could.”

“Oh.” Willa closed her eyes as she released a sigh of relief. “Good.” She whispered as she added, “Because I love you, too, you know.”

For several long minutes, she had no chance to say anything more, because she was too busy kissing Ben.

When they finally drew apart to catch their breaths, Willa grinned her sauciest grin. “I am afraid we cannot marry each other tomorrow,” she warned him. “But there should be no delays to the wedding on my side. My usual seamstress is already working on a dress, my uncle has made arrangements for us to use the parish church in Ingleton, and the vicar should be available to perform the ceremony. Unless we ask my uncle Richard to officiate, that is.”

As a matter of fact, the question of who should perform the service had become an unexpected point of contention. Since the current Lord Inglewhite had been ordained as a clergyman before he inherited the title, he offered to officiate at the wedding. Willa liked that idea, since she knew Uncle Richard much better than the local vicar. But Willa’s mother thought Uncle Richard should give Willa away, since he was her legal guardian.

Before Willa could explain all of that, Ben spoke. “I say, have you noticed that we’ve been sitting here for nearly half an hour already? Is the ocean still bothering you?”

Willa blinked, surprised. She had been so engrossed in their conversation—and their kisses—that she had ceased to notice the roar of the waves or the pervasive scent of brine. Like the unfathomable mysteries of the ocean, those sensory elements were still present, but they were no longer at the forefront of her mind.

“Maybe I am doing better at ignoring it. At least, when you are here to keep me distracted.” A smile broke across her face. She doubted she would ever come to love the seaside, but perhaps she could learn to tolerate it by focusing her attention on something more important.

“Perhaps I had better distract you a little more.” Ben drew her into his arms for another long kiss, and Willa found all her senses occupied in the best possible way.

*

In the end, Uncle Rowland solved the question of who should perform the wedding ceremony by arriving unannounced the day before the wedding. He offered to give Willa away, leaving Uncle Richard free to officiate the wedding.

Willa embraced this plan, but she had one concern. “You don’t feel slighted, do you?” she whispered to Uncle Richard, as they waited in the vestibule of the church. “I am fond of you, too, you know, and—”

“It is perfectly all right,” Uncle Richard whispered back. “I know Rowland is everyone’s favorite uncle. He would be my favorite too, if I were you. I am not offended.”

Willa gasped, because she hadn’t meant that at all. When her uncle chuckled, she realized he’d been teasing her.

“I have a daughter of my own to give away someday,” Uncle Richard added. “Rowland ought to get his turn, too.” He kissed Willa on the cheek and disappeared into the church.

Uncle Rowland was surprisingly nervous about his role. “I am used to being only a spectator at weddings,” he reminded Willa. “I suppose I ought to get in practice, in case any of my other nieces have need of me.”

He glanced towards the family pew, where both the current Lady Inglewhite and the Dowager Lady sat, accompanied by Phoebe and—rather to Willa’s surprise—Rowland’s employer. Tall, dark, handsome, and visibly bored, the young Marquis of Reading looked as if he would rather be elsewhere on so fine a morning.

“Why is Lord Reading here?” Willa whispered. “I am flattered that he graced my wedding with his presence, but I hardly know him!” Attending the wedding of his secretary’s niece took Lord Reading’s responsibility as an employer further than anyone would think necessary.

Uncle Rowland grinned crookedly. “Yes, but if he hadn’t come along, he and I would be separated for days. I like to think that after all these years, he cannot get by without me,” he joked. “In any case, between Lord Francis’s children and Ivy’s brood, Reading has even more nieces, nephews, and young cousins in Ingleton than I do. You might not be able to tell by looking at him, but he is very fond of all the children in the family.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” There certainly were a lot of children gathered in the church today. Willa recognized Uncle Richard’s two eldest (the baby had stayed in the nursery), but she did not know who all the others were.

“Besides,” Rowland added, “Reading wanted an excuse to get out of the city. No one wants to be in London in July.”

That was indisputable. It was one of the reasons why Willa had never even considered holding her wedding at St. George’s, the preferred location for ton weddings. Neither Willa nor Ben thought a fashionable wedding was worth suffering the stifling heat and foul odors of London in the summer.

Uncle Richard cleared his throat and said “Dearly Beloved” in a voice loud enough to carry all the way up to the church’s open rafters. Everyone’s attention shifted to the front of the church.

As the service began, Willa had eyes for no one but Ben, who seemed far more nervous than she was. In fact, he fumbled the ring, but Willa caught it before it could hit the floor. Ben’s ears turned bright red, but the ceremony continued without further incident.

The moment Ben and Will stepped out of the church, wedding bells rang a celebratory peal. People from the castle and the village swarmed around the bride and groom, shouting, laughing, wishing them well, and generally making merry.

Ben, who did not like crowds or loud noises, cringed. Willa patted his hand reassuringly as she guided them out of the crowd. When they reached the long gravel carriageway back up the hill to the castle, they finally had a little space to themselves.

“We are married!” Willa whispered to her new husband. “For richer or poorer, in sickness or health.” Those words lingered in her mind even after the final blessing.

“I think you mean, in the depths of the ocean or the darkness of space,” Ben quipped. “I still think we ought to have gone to the Orkney Islands for our honeymoon.”

Willa glared at him. “There will be no sea voyages of any kind on our honeymoon,” she insisted. They had agreed to spend the first weeks of their married life in the Lake District, well away from the seashore.

But, as it turned out, their honeymoon did include a glance into the heights of the heavens. Three days after their wedding, Willa and Ben carried a pair of thick blankets from their rented cottage out into an empty pasture. They spread one blanket on the ground so they could lie back and look up at the stars and tucked the other one around them to keep warm. Even in July, the night breeze carried a chill.

Out here, far from the nearest neighbors, there were more stars in the sky than Willa could ever remember seeing. The cloudy band of the Milky Way spread across the sky.

As she stared up into the mysterious darkness, earth and its inhabitants seemed miniscule by contrast. All that held her in place was the invisible hand of gravity. For a dizzying moment, Willa felt as if she might fall off into the depths of space.

But only for a moment. She reached for Ben’s hand and twined her fingers with his. “I see why you said that the immensity of the night sky frightened you.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Does it frighten you now?”

“Hmm.” He squeezed her hand more tightly. “It might frighten me if you were not here. But you anchor me to the ground, and I know I will not fall.”

The unexpected sweetness of that sentiment put a lump in Willa’s throat. “I suppose enormous things like that—high mountains, deep waters, and so on—frighten us because they are awesome in the literal sense. They inspire awe, and awe is only hair’s breadth away from fear.”

“It works the other way around, too, you know,” Ben pointed out. “Fear is related to awe, but so is reverence. That is what the sublime is all about, isn’t it? Reverence and fear bound together in the face of power and majesty.”

He turned to press his lips against her cheek. “Maybe someday you will look at the ocean with reverence, too.”

Willa squeezed his hand as she imagined that. In this romantic moment, all things seemed possible. She could at least turn her mind away from the ocean’s dreadful vastness to subjects both more pleasant and closer to the hand.

“Maybe my fears will not matter so much, as long as I am moored in your love.” She turned away from the distant stars to the husband by her side, and they kissed beneath the starry sky.

The End