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“Aye then, Miss Heather,” Bunky said, but Heather saw the doubt in his eyes.
She took the tray from him and set it down to give him a hug. “My dear friend, Bunky, don’t look so glum. I shall do very nicely.”
“I think ye are sacrificing one life for another, and I’m not certain ye will ever get over it,” he said, and shook his head. “I’m sorry for it, miss…bless ye, I am sorry for it.”
* * * * *
Some hours later, washed, refreshed, and fed, Heather returned to Maurice’s suite and found him comfortably resting, but awake.
Bunky had brought him some gruel, but he had not yet touched it.
She pulled a chair close and nodded to Bunky. “Go and get some much deserved rest, Bunky dear.”
He grinned. “Aye…but first I think I’ll get some of Belle’s delicious bread and ham.”
Heather watched him go and returned her attention to Maurice, who had reached for and taken her hand. His grip was weak, and she knew he had quite a few more days to full recovery.
“Will you eat the gruel now, sir?” She dimpled at him.
“Oui…I will eat the gruel,” he answered, and allowed her to place a small spoonful in his mouth.
“Is it most horrid?” she asked on a tease.
“Non, not so very. Belle has laced it with honey,” he said, and gav
e her a weak smile.
She gave him another spoonful and he allowed it, but said before she could raise the spoon to his mouth again, “My Heather…I was trapped in a dream, an awful dream.”
“It is over,” she said.
“It will be over…but let me tell you of it. We were at the French court. You were there—naked with only jewels around your neck and jeweled slippers on your feet. I wanted to shield you from the dirty glances you were getting. You would not look at me. You would not allow me to approach, and then all at once, I heard your voice calling and I was able to cover you with my coat and hold you close. I heard you, Heather. Through it all, I heard you say you will marry me. I heard you say you love me. Is it true?”
Heather took his hands to her face and silently cried. She was so thankful that he had heard her and come through the fever. She was so thankful he was well. It was all she could think about in that moment. “Yes, Maurice. When I thought I could lose you to the swamp fever, I realized…I love you, and my place is here with you.” It was, she told herself, a half-truth.
She would marry Maurice de Brabant and give him all she had to give. She wanted him, she needed him, and she even loved him. Passionate love? No, but…perhaps one day Godwin would be a youthful memory and Maurice would be her passion. She could only hope.
Cornwall was an uncertain future and certainly with Sara lurking to do her worst, not the place to expose her child. Sara had finally won. Sara, who would be there in the wings, a threat to her child and even to Godwin, had won the battle.
Heather sighed, but she was not unhappy. She would stay and make Maurice’s life full, and she would make a life here on this beautiful island. He would be husband to her and father to her unborn child. Louise was right, this was the only way—the decent way to go forward.
Thus, it was that Heather made her fateful decision that day and kept her promise to God. In so doing, a portion of Heather Martin was put to rest, perhaps never to be recalled.
Such was the joining of Heather Martin and the Comte de Brabant.
Across the ocean, at Windmera in Cornwall, Godwin felt as though a knife had sliced through his heart and hopes. She wasn’t coming back. His life, his hopes, his dreams were over.
He heard a pony’s hooves approach and watched as Roderick jumped off and approached, eyeing him worriedly. “Come, sir, the horse auction in town will be starting soon. We have just enough time to get there.”
“Yes, son…off we go,” Godwin said, and as he left, he turned again to look out to sea.
And so a chapter ended only to be reopened in later years.
