It was late afternoon when Mr. Broughton returned to the estate, with a few other men who had volunteered to help look for Mr. Abernathy.
"We went to the ruins, but we found no sign of him," Mr. Broughton told them, holding his cap scrunched up in his hands. "We couldn't find him in the forest nearby either."
Marina felt an odd mix of relief and fear. Relief that she had not actually killed the man, and fear that he would come after her again. She stood looking out the front window over the lawn, clutching Celeste to her heart. Celeste had finally fallen asleep a short while earlier, but Marina still had not put her down. She felt Mr. Abernathy as a sinister presence, waiting for her to let down her guard, ready to come after her and her family.
When Celeste woke the three of them had dinner together and Marina played with Celeste afterwards, trying to let her see that all was normal, that she was safe. Celeste had her own crèche set up in Marina's room upstairs, but when they went to bed Marina kept her beside her. They lay close together, Marina reading quietly to Celeste until she fell asleep at her side. Marina read a little while longer, but she found the words slipping out of her mind as quickly as she read them, so she curled up around Celeste and was soon mercifully asleep herself.
She was drifting in and out of sleep, haunted by strange and fearful dreams, when she heard a commotion downstairs. Her body immediately tensed, ready to flee, fearing Mr. Abernathy's return. Instead she heard Mrs. Crane's voice from downstairs, back and forth with a man's voice, not raised in fear but in conversation. She lay very still, trying to make out the voices, certain she recognized the man's voice.
She got out of bed, moving slowly so as not to disturb Celeste, and opened the door. As soon as she heard the voice again without the barrier of the door, she realized it was Philip. She crept out into the hall. She hadn't expected him to come – and so late at night – and wondered if perhaps Mrs. Crane had not made it clear that Celeste was alright.
"-if anything happened-"
"It's didn't. They are both safe," Mrs. Crane reassured him.
"Mr. Abernathy is a scoundrel! How could he come after Marina and Celeste?"
"He must have seen them in London. If she hadn't become involved-"
"Are you saying this is my fault?" Marina looked around the corner just in time to see Philip collapse into a chair, his head in his hands. "It is my fault, isn't it? She should never have been involved – she should never have married me…"
"If George was still alive-"
Marina stepped onto the stairs, unwilling to listen to that line of thinking. She had involved herself with Mrs. Abernathy's case of her volition, and she had been glad to help the woman free herself from her awful husband. She wasn't about to let Philip convince himself it was his fault that Mr. Abernathy was a bastard. Nor was she going to let Mrs. Crane convince him that if George were alive he would have controlled her.
"Hello?" She peered around the corner, pretending she had not just been eavesdropping. "Philip? What are you doing here so late?"
Philip got to his feet and came over to her, holding out his hands but not touching her. "Marina! Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Marina assured him. "We had a scare, but we're alright. Celeste has just gone to sleep upstairs." She lifted her hand towards the stairs, and saw the colour drain from his face when he saw her bandaged hand.
"You're hurt!" He turned to his mother. "You didn't tell me she was injured!"
"She didn't want me to-"
"I didn't want you to worry," Marina said soothingly. "Mr. Abernathy didn't do this – I fell on a rock and cut myself, that's all. I hurt him more than that, I think." She grinned a little, wanting him to stop looking so worried. "Celeste is unhurt. Since you are here, come look in on her."
He looked embarrassed suddenly and looked away from her as he nodded.
"Come on, she's sleeping in my room." He followed her up the stairs while Mrs. Crane took the chance to sneak off to bed herself. Marina opened the door to her room and let him in to see Celeste, splayed out on the bed, dwarfed by the size of it.
"She was so brave," Marina whispered. "She wouldn't let me be alone. She sat on my lap while the doctor stitched me up."
Philip started and exclaimed, "Stitched you-" Marina held her hand to Philip's mouth to quiet him. He grimaced and took her by the elbow to lead her back into the hall, closing the door behind them. "Marina, I am sorry. This should not have happened. I never should have-"
Marina kicked him lightly in the shin to shut him up this time. "Are you going to take the blame for this?" She snorted through her nose at his foolishness. It wasn't ladylike – and probably wasn't attractive at all – but she wasn't winning him over with her charms anyway. "Mr. Abernathy is a bastard," she said flatly, enjoying the surprised blush that spread across his cheeks at her use of profanity. "It is not your fault. It is not my fault. It is not Mrs. Abernathy's fault. If Mr. Abernathy chooses to attack an innocent woman and her child, whose fault is that?"
"Mr. Abernathy's…" Philip mumbled, looking like a scolded schoolboy. Marina grinned, thinking how cute he looked this way. She might become a harsh, nagging wife, if this was how he reacted to being scolded.
"Do you regret helping Mrs. Abernathy with her suit?"
"No."
"Neither do I." A thought occurred to her. "What about Mrs. Abernathy? You left her in London? Is she alright?"
Philip nodded. "They had just found rooms to let. She is there under a different name – Mr. Abernathy should not be able to easily find her."
"Good." Marina nodded, then sighed. "I am glad you're here though – Celeste will be much easier with you by her side." She thought how much easier she felt herself, to have him near, but she couldn't tell him that. "I was worried he might come after you, when he was not found in the ruins."
Philip looked at her, smiling slightly. "Because I am a much easier target than a young mother and her child," he said sardonically.
"Yes. Because if anyone ever threatens my daughter, I really lose my temper," Marina said, grinning back at him, feeling relief flood her veins to be able to smile with him again. "And I am very quick to resort to violence, be it against man or furniture."
Philip laughed softly. "Thank God you're alright," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
"Philip, will you sleep here tonight?" Marina asked impulsively.
"Yes, I'll stay here," he said, gesturing down the hall to his room.
Marina fought back the urge to roll her eyes. Was it really possible for a man to be this dense? "No, I mean, in my room with me." She saw the look of terror forming on his face and went on quickly. "I don't – I know Celeste will be so happy to see you in the morning, and I…" 'I want you.' "I would feel safer, if I were not alone…"
Philip was quiet for what felt like an eternity. She wondered if she had pushed too far, too quickly. She looked at her feet, afraid to meet his eye, afraid to see disgust there, or pity for her desperation. She was about to tell him to forget she had said anything when he spoke.
"Alright." He went into the room and she followed him, her heart beating absurdly fast. She told herself to calm down. They were only going to sleep – Celeste was in the bed for goodness sake! They wouldn't even be sleeping next to each other. A small sound of surprise escaped her lips when he pulled off his coat, and she hurried around to her side of the bed and climbed in next to Celeste, taking her daughter's hand to calm herself once more. She watched him undress through lowered lashes, as he removed his cravat and boots facing away from her. He turned to lay down and she squeezed her eyes shut.
She felt his weight settling on the bed, and she couldn't help but remember the vivid dreams she had been having of being in bed with him. She breathed deeply and curled towards Celeste, willing herself to calmness as she heard him blow out the light.
She opened her eyes again to see his profile in the moonlight, Celeste's tiny hand curled at his collar, her body recognizing him instinctively, even in sleep. He reached out and stroked Celeste's belly soothingly and leaned back on the pillow.
"Goodnight Philip," Marina whispered.
"Goodnight Marina."
Marina woke up in the dark, listening to the breathing of two bodies beside her. She reached out and rubbed her hand over Celeste's belly to comfort herself. When she reached out her hand met Philip's. She opened her eyes, trying to see him in the dark, but she couldn't make him out. She squeezed his hand, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb.
He turned his hand around and threaded his fingers through hers and she froze. When he started to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb, she realized she must be dreaming, or he was asleep and dreaming.
Still, she decided to just enjoy the moment. She closed her eyes again and just enjoyed the feel of his hand in hers, the soothing motion of his fingers on hers, and she drifted back to sleep.
She woke up alone in bed and briefly panicked until she recognized the sound of Celeste's laughter filtering up from downstairs. She blinked blearily at the sun shining in through her window, wondering how much of last night's events were real, how much a fantasy conjured by her love-starved mind.
Her hand spasmed painfully as she pulled back the covers. The violence, at least, had been real.
She dressed quickly, looking around the room for any sign that Philip had been there and finding none. She pouted a little at this – she would have liked to wake up with him in her bed, even if they had spent the night innocently.
Her stomach growled at her and she hurried downstairs.
Philip was in the living room, swinging Celeste around in circles and sending her into giggling fits. Marina stopped in the doorway to smile at the comfortable scene and Philip noticed her standing there as he spun around and stopped. "Ah! Mama's awake!" He brought Celeste over and gave her into Marina's arms.
"Are you feeling better this morning?" Marina asked Celeste, showering her beautiful little head with kisses. "Much better today right?"
"She woke early this morning – I thought it best to let you sleep," Philip explained. Marina just smiled at him, until he blushed and looked away.
"Good morning to you too," she said. Her stomach grumbled loudly. "Is breakfast served?"
At Mrs. Crane's breakfast table Philip sat as far away from her as possible, which she found annoying. He ate in silence, letting Marina and Mrs. Crane carry the conversation. He avoided meeting her gaze whenever she looked in her direction, and that – coupled with the sharp aching in her hand – was enough to put her in a bad mood that morning.
"Will you go back to London?" Marina asked him. The question came out sharper than she had intended. When he frowned at her, she elaborated, "To help Mrs. Abernathy and her children. Were they quite settled when you left them?"
He shook his head. "Not quite. Mrs. Abernathy is a capable woman though – she doesn't require my help. I should return though… But I would see that you and Celeste are safe before I go."
Marina shuddered. How would he make sure of that? As long as Mr. Abernathy was allowed to be out and about, she didn't think she and Celeste would ever be safe.
Mrs. Forrester came in and gave Mrs. Crane a letter. Marina and Philip sat silently, watching her read it, watching the frown cross her face, and wondering what it meant.
"They found Mr. Abernathy this morning," Mrs. Crane said. "Rather, he found himself. He walked up to the Magistrate and said he had a crime to report."
"He didn't…" Philip started.
"He did." Mrs. Crane answered, and handed the letter over to him. "He has accused Marina of battery and is bringing charges against her."
Marina felt all the blood rush to her cheeks, and before she could stop herself she was on her feet, her hands clenched tightly in fists. "That complete and utter bastard!"