She looked at him then, really looked at him. She saw the determination in his face, the kindness in his eyes and the firm set of his jaw, and, all at once, fell hopelessly, irrevocably in love.
Over the next weeks, Thomas and Caroline met almost every day on that wild stretch of beach beyond the town. They made no arrangements and exchanged no promises, yet each appeared at the same hour as on that first morning, and before long their conversations came as easily as though they had known one another for years.
The biting chill of winter gradually gave way to the softer days of early spring, and one bright morning, when the sea lay flat as a millpond and the gulls wheeled lazily overhead, Thomas kissed her. It was so gentle that she felt it scarcely more than the brush of a butterfly against her lips, and the sweetness of it brought tears to her eyes.
He drew back only far enough to look at her, his expression uncertain. "Forgive me. I ought not to have done that."
"No," Caroline said, tightening her fingers around his before he could release her. "You ought not to apologise."
For a moment, he simply looked at her, then took both her hands in his. "I love you, Caroline. I have loved you almost from the first day we met, though I knew well enough how foolish it was and tried more than once to persuade myself that I could be content with your friendship. I cannot. I know I have little to offer you now beyond hopes and plans, but I mean to go to Edinburgh and work until I have made something of myself. I cannot promise how long it will take, only that I will return when I am able to support you properly and ask your father for your hand."
Caroline could scarcely breathe. "And if it takes years?"
"Then it will take years, and I shall spend them becoming the sort of man who may stand before your family without shame.I do not expect you to wait for me if your feelings change, but mine will not. Of that, at least, I am certain."
She smiled through her tears and tightened her hold on his hands. "My feelings will not change either. I will wait for you, Thomas, however long it takes."
Something in his face softened, and for one suspended moment, the sounds of the shore and the cries of the gulls faded away. All that remained was the two of them, looking into each other's eyes and seeing their own hopes and fears reflected back towards themselves.
"Loving you is easy," he said quietly. "It is everything that must come before I may marry you that will be difficult."
Chapter Two
Caroline, Scarborough, Easter 1807
Caroline stood in her room and surveyed the chaos. It looked as though a haberdasher's shop had exploded. Trunks stood open, while gowns, gloves, reticules and every manner of accessory lay in untidy piles on every available surface. Her lady's maid, Martha, stood in the centre of it all, directing one of the lower housemaids as they carefully packed everything Caroline would need for her first London Season.
"Martha, surely I do not need quite so many gowns," Caroline said hopefully.
Her maid looked at her and shook her head. "Miss Caroline, this is your first Season. There will be suppers and recitals, theatre trips and balls, God willing Almack's and Lord knows what else. This is but a small portion of what you will need for your come-out. Much of the rest cannot be had in Scarborough and will have to be attended to in Bond Street. Forgive me, miss, but you are not the first young lady I have seen through this, and I know my business. Now, why do you not ring for some tea? I can get on much better without you underfoot."
Caroline sighed and left the room. Martha was a no-nonsense woman in her late thirties who had been with Caroline since she was thirteen. She did indeed know what she was about, and no amount of arguing, would persuade her otherwise. Beneath her firmness lay a warmth and kindness that had kept Caroline whole during the long months after her mama's passing, when her father had retreated into himself and Louisa had simply carried on as though nothing at all were amiss. Louisa was two years older than Caroline but, like their brother Charles, possessed an open sweetness that seemed to protect her from the sometimes cruel realities of life.
Martha had held Caroline while she cried and encouraged her to speak of her dear mama as much or as little as she wished. How she wished her mama were here now. She would understand Caroline's heart better than Caroline knew it herself.
Part of her wanted to scream. She did not wish for a London Season. She did not want to be dressed up like a show pony and paraded from event to event. She had no need to meet an eligible gentleman, for she had already given herself, in every way that truly mattered, to the man she loved. Thomas. Dear, sweet Thomas.
For the past week, she had resolved each day that she would speak to her father, explain the futility of the journey to London and confess that she already knew her future. She wished onlyto remain at home until Thomas had completed his training. He was to leave for Edinburgh in the autumn to begin his medical studies, Dr Lawson having been impressed by his application and knowledge. Thomas might not be a gentleman, but he was the best of men, and he was working tirelessly towards one of the most respectable professions in the kingdom. Surely her father would understand that. He was a man who valued hard work above almost everything else.
More than a year had passed since the morning they met upon the beach, and in that time he had become as necessary to her as air itself. They had spent the spring and summer walking together whenever they could, holding hands and talking until the light faded and the tide drove them back towards the town. Through the winter, they had found fewer opportunities to meet, but their affection had deepened. She knew the way his eyes brightened when he spoke of medicine, the impatient sweep of his hand when he became absorbed in an argument and the crooked smile that appeared whenever he was attempting not to laugh at her. He knew every one of her fears and ambitions, even those she had never found the courage to confess to her own family.
She thought of their last meeting upon the beach two days earlier. They had returned to the sheltered rock where he had first taken her hand, and for a little while neither of themhad spoken of her departure. Then Thomas bent and plucked something from the wet sand. It was a small piece of green sea glass, pale and perfectly smooth, which caught the weak sunlight as he held it out upon his palm.
"Keep this while you are in London," he had said in a low voice, pressing the glass into her palm, curling her fingers around it and covering her hand with his own.
Caroline had closed her eyes, revelling in the warmth of his hand over hers. "By the time I return, you will already be in Edinburgh."
"I know. That is why I want you to have it." His thumb had moved softly across her knuckles. "When you look at it, remember this place and remember that, wherever I am, I shall still be thinking of you."
The thought of leaving him had made her throat ache. "It will be months, perhaps a year or more, before we see one another again."
"Then we must trust that the months will pass, as they always do, and that neither London nor Edinburgh will alter what we have promised each other."
???
Caroline took a deep breath. They were due to leave for London tomorrow. It was now or never. Her father was in his study, seated behind the broad mahogany desk he had commissioned when they first moved into the house when she was a small girl. Papers lay in ordered stacks before him, and he was reading a letter with a frown of concentration when Caroline entered.
He looked up at once. "There tha' is. I thought Martha would have thee buried beneath gowns by now."
