There was an outcry at this from both Bevis and Mrs Peverill. But Denzell, watching old man Chaceley, saw a light in the aged eyes that he had never thought to see. He belonged to a bloodier age than this, when a man might have been called to account for such doings as Nathaniel Peverill had been engaged in. It was plain that to Chaceley, Verena’s words evoked a spirit that spoke to his depths. Perhaps it even reminded him of his dead son, for Denzell could swear there was a shade of grief lurking in the iron gaze.
Here was the source of Verena’s strength of will. That incredible iron control that had upheld her through the years of pain and dread. Iron that had so nearly shielded her heart from the penetration of his own deep feelings. For it was pierced. He could not doubt it now. Only, would Verena admit it?
The remembrance of the barrier that kept her from him made him glance from the Chaceley men to Mrs Peverill and back again. By George, was this deliverance? Had they come with something more than good intentions — those dictated by old man Chaceley’s conscience, that was clear.
As if she read his mind, Mrs Peverill answered the question at that precise moment.
“Never mind all that now, my dearest,” she was saying, a flush of excitement entering her cheeks. “We have not yet told you the best. Your grandfather has offered us a refuge.”
Verena stared at her. “What?” she uttered faintly.
“Yes, my dear child,” said Bevis Chaceley, leaning towards her. “You must not believe your grandfather to be all stone, you know. As soon as I told him what I had heard, he resolved to bring you home to Pittlesthorp — and your mama, too — should circumstances turn out in such a way that this might be desirable.”
“Is it not wonderful, dearest?” uttered her mother, radiance in her face.
Verena blinked. It was the answer to a prayer. And yet — how was it that the prospect did not fill her with the bubbling enthusiasm that Mama evidently felt?
“You may rest easy, for I will be safe, and we need not hide away,” she was saying, such a note of hope and joy in her voice as warmed Verena’s heart. “Adam may visit us at any time he wishes, for Mr Chaceley has said so, and also that he will not permit Nathaniel to bring me away. We will have a new family, dearest, for as your uncle Bevis has pointed out, these were once my relatives-in-law. But best of all, Verena, you will be free. You may seek the future you deserve, and that will make me the happiest creature in the world.”
Verena knew that it was incumbent upon her to reciprocate Mama’s delight. But she could not. All at once the concept of“freedom” seemed altogether unreal and — empty. Yet she must say something.
“Mama, you must be — why, that is —” She faltered to a stop, unable to think of anything beyond the dreadful notion that all she would be left with was the most appalling sense of loss.
Her glance flicked from her uncle’s face to that of her grandfather. Then, as she turned to bring her gaze back to her mother, she caught sight of Denzell’s countenance and her eyes became riveted there, as of their own volition.
There was a slight question in his face, as if he sought to know what was passing in her mind. Quite suddenly, it was as if they were alone in the room, and it seemed the most urgent thing in the world that he should be consulted.
“Denzell, what do you think?”
He regarded her gravely. “I think your mama should accept.”
“Mama! But —”
Denzell smiled at her, and the world suddenly seemed brighter. “I have no desire to see you living with your grandfather. I want you to live with me.”
A slow pulse began to beat in her veins. It was as if she was hearing the idea for the very first time. She was, in one sense. For the first time, it had become a possibility.
She hardly noticed the stunned silence of the others in the room, for she was scarcely aware of their presence, until old man Chaceley erupted, pushing himself to his feet.
“What in thunder do you mean, sir? I’ll thank you to keep your disrespectful suggestions to yourself, you impertinent puppy! Do you dare to offer my granddaughter acarte blanche?”
Denzell rose, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he answered. “You misunderstand me, sir. It is — and has been for some days — my most ardent desire to marry your granddaughter.”
“You young dog, Denzell,” came from a laughing Bevis, who had also got up. “Do you wish to give my father an apoplexy?”
“I had no intention of expressing myself so maladroitly,” Denzell said apologetically. “I was speaking to Verena, and she is already very well aware of my suit.”
The old gentleman glared at him. “I ought to give you the thrashing of your life, boy!”
“Pray don’t, sir,” begged Denzell. He added seriously, “I think Verena has had her fill of violent proceedings.”
He looked round as he spoke, and discovered that Verena was looking at him oddly. There was both bewilderment and distress in her face, and — surprise, was it? She looked as if she did not even know that Mrs Peverill, beside her, was clutching her arm in obvious delight. He crossed to the day-bed. Reaching down, he took her hands and drew her to her feet.
“Don’t look so troubled, my princess.”
But Verena was not ready for this. She withdrew her hands, her head in a whirl, and her heart now beating like a drum.
“This is all too fast! You speak as if everything were in a way to be settled already.”
