The Captain's Return. Elizabeth Bailey

room behind the parlour for use as a workroom, ostensibly for the purpose of sewing clothes for herself and the infant, and for Janet too. But having begun by taking in a little mending to help a friend, Annabel had gradually acquired a small circle of clients among the more needy of the local ladies for whom she fashioned gowns, often out of old ones which she refurbished in the current mode. It was not an occupation that she cared to advertise. However, both Charlotte and Jane had used her services, along with others of the Guarding teachers and a gossipy spinster in Abbot Giles by the name of Lucinda Beattie.

      It had been imperative to Annabel to conceal this activity from Hal. She did not wish him to think her reduced to such straits. Bad enough that she must tolerate his hateful condescension. He had come to make reparation indeed!

      By the time he had returned, driving his own phaeton, and bringing with him a batman—whom Janet immediately stigmatized as the Jack-at-warts she had encountered hanging about the village green not long since—the light was fading and Rebecca had been long abed. Annabel, having resented Hal’s arrival, had been for several hours in a fume at his prolonged absence.

      “Since you left word you would come back, it would have been a courtesy in you to have said what time we might expect you,” she had complained angrily.

      “I couldn’t because I didn’t know,” Hal had responded briefly, his bulk dwarfing even the large family room of Annabel’s cottage.

      Since it offered the most space, she had furnished it both with a sofa and one chair about the fireplace and a dining-table next to the window. A judiciously placed screen shut off the draught from the front door, which opened directly on to the room. So used to its inconvenient restrictions was Annabel that she no longer noticed them. Until tonight, when Captain Colton’s appearance had made her all too aware of the shortcomings of her accommodation.

      Balked of her complaint, she had sought another weapon with which to belabour him. “If you are expecting dinner, you will be disappointed, for we ate hours ago.”

      “I had a bite at the Hartwells before I left.”

      Annabel’s frustration had deepened. “Janet says you have a man with you. Where you expect us to put him, I’m sure I don’t know.”

      “Oh, I’ve arranged for that,” Hal had announced, infuriatingly offhand. “He’s to put up at a farm nearby, along with the phaeton and horses. I knew you could not have stabled them. And it was imperative that Weem remain with them, for I value my cattle too highly to leave them in charge of a farmhand.”

      There had been a pause. In the light of the few candles Annabel had left burning in one small candelabra, Hal’s blue-grey eyes had glinted down at her from his superior height. Annabel’s had met them defiantly, almost daring him to ask the question that hovered between them.

      “Where have you put me?”

      She had felt her colour rush up. “I dare say you will find it excessively uncomfortable.”

      Hal had smiled grimly. “I’m a soldier, Annabel. I’ll sleep on the floor in the kitchen, if need be.”

      Annabel had swept to one side, avoiding his gaze. “We are not reduced to quite that extremity. Janet will show you the room.” Without looking at him, she had offered grudgingly, “If you are hungry, I dare say she can find you bread and cheese, or some such thing.”

      He had refused it, and Annabel had murmured a gruff good night and escaped, leaving Janet to see to his needs. After she had heard the maid take herself to bed in the small room adjoining Becky’s, Annabel yet could not sleep.

      The unseen presence below stairs seemed to pervade the house, and her wandering thoughts were distressing enough to keep her wakeful. Inevitably, they drifted back to that fateful night at that last fashionable ball…

      Without meaning it, her eyes had strayed automatically to every scarlet coat, discarding each broad-shouldered back as she did not find the familiar red-gold hair above it. In the event, Hal had found her instead. A touch on her shoulder, and as she turned, the familiar rush of warmth engulfed her as she encountered his serious gaze.

      “I must speak with you alone!”

      The low tone was anguished, and Annabel longed to give in. But in honour bound, she protested, her voice equally muted.

      “To what avail, Hal?”

      “Come with me, Annabel, I beg of you!”

      He grasped her arm. Resistless, she allowed herself to be drawn through the motley crowds and out at the French windows. He took her hand, and pulled her across the terrace.

      “For heaven’s sake, Hal! If anyone were to see us!”

      Hal’s hurrying pace did not waver. “There’s a summerhouse of sorts. We can talk there.”

      Her heart was beating like a drum, and Annabel knew she ought to turn back. But so dearly had she longed to see him again that she could not fight the impulse that drove her to match swift steps to his.

      Night swallowed them up as the light that spilled on to the terrace fell further behind them. Hal slowed, guiding her silently across the grass. A shadow loomed ahead, and Annabel found herself stepping up into an arboured place, of circular structure, lit only by the stars and a splatter of moonlight thrusting through a patterned fretwork to lie unevenly upon the flagged floor.

      Breathless, and not altogether from the chase, Annabel felt herself released. She shifted away from the large silhouette that was her discarded love, her pulses in riot. She broke into shaky speech.

      “Why have you brought me here? There is nothing to be said between us, Hal. It is finished.”

      She could hear his uneven breath, and knew that his tempestuous nature was aroused.

      “Yes, so you said a week ago. I was too upset, too angry to think then, Annabel. But I’ve had time enough since. You acted under your father’s commands, I know it.”

      “Under his guidance,” she corrected. “How could I marry you when he is so much opposed to it?”

      “Even when his opposition is dictated by unreasoning obstinacy?”

      Her eyes were growing accustomed to the dark, and Hal’s big frame was becoming more visible. His nearness was torture to her. Yet she must adhere to that resolve that had driven her to reject him.

      “Hal, we have had all this out. I am his only child. It is natural that he should wish a better future for me than—”

      “Than is to be had with a younger son who has only just acquired a captaincy,” he finished bitterly. “Don’t tell me it again, for I don’t believe it! Mr Howes knows well that I am a full-pay officer with a promising future.”

      “He will not have me follow the drum, Hal.”

      “If you don’t care for that, why should he?”

      “If Papa had forbidden me, or had treated me badly over this, I would not have hesitated,” she uttered, low-voiced. “He has tried instead to overcome his scruples—”

      “Scruples!” burst from Hal. “His unreasoning prejudice rather.”

      “Nothing of the sort. I assure you, he tried to hide his disappointment from me, but I could see his unhappiness. It was that which has been my undoing.”

      “Emotional blackmail!” scoffed Hal.

      “Don’t say that! How dare you say that? Papa would never use me so. He allowed our betrothal. It is I who chose to break it off. How can you abuse him?”

      Hal gave a laugh in which bitterness sounded. “With ease, Annabel. My darling, he is using your affection for him, don’t you see? He may have given his consent against his will, but he gave it! And you have allowed him to twist you away from your own heart.”

      “Oh, stop!” cried Annabel, thrusting away as far as the small space would allow. “This is all so useless! Why can you