The blasting and digging of the mine kept David busier than he expected. It gave him an excuse to avoid spending much time with Cate alone. He was now aware of a danger there. She was pretty again. Not that he had ever not found her attractive, but she was growing back into her looks, gaining back the weight and colour she had lost before he married her and paying the old, careful attention to her dress and hair. She also smiled more, and sometimes he even made her laugh, which made his heart dance until he remembered her betrayal and it hurt again. He thought it safer to talk to her only in company. He dined with her and Sarah, and Luke very often now too, or he came to her sitting room for a chat and tea only when he knew Sarah or Laurie were there as well. Laurie was quite the antidote to danger. She watched every interaction between them with a cat-like smile on her face and always found something to tease him about afterwards.

With Luke, he allowed himself more indulgences. If Cate was tired, or simply wanted some peace and quiet, he would take Luke with him into his study and let him crawl and toddle around exploring the desk drawers and scribble on bits of scrap paper. Or if it was fine, they might go outside into the garden and hunt for snails and other small creatures, which Luke was fascinated with. The height of joy was the day Luke caught a sleepy frog, even if he did cry when it hopped away again.

Two or three weeks after they started blasting the mine, another one of David's investors, Major Kayton, an old friend of his, visited Plas Bryn without invitation on his way through to Bangor. David took him to the quarry to see the progress and watch the digging, then back home to talk figures with Baxter in his study. Kayton was unduly optimistic and it required all of Baxter's tact to give him a more realistic understanding of how long it would take before the mines could be productive.

At last, Kayton said with a sigh, "Then it is three or four years, I think, before I see a real profit, and ten, perhaps, before things are really swinging. Your children, Demery, will be reaping the reward of your hard work decades from now."

"And I will too, I hope," David said. "I am only thirty-two. I like to believe I have a few decades left in me."

Kayton laughed. "Certainly, I have no doubt. You are one—"

He stopped abruptly as the study door creaked open. David twisted in his chair, but no one was there.

"A ghost?" Kayton said.

There was a giggle, and Luke marched into view from behind the desk before stumbling and falling to his bottom with a surprised look when he got his feet tangled. He was used to falls now, and pushed himself back to his feet with a look of triumph.

"Your son?" Kayton asked with a frown. "No, it would not be... your wife's son?"

"Indeed." David scooped Luke into his arms. "What are you doing here? You're trespassing."

Luke laughed and waved at Kayton, who was a new face.

"No, don't make friends," David said. "Don't think smiles will get you off. I'm judge, jury, and executioner. I'll send you to the penal colonies. I'll send you to bed."

Luke fixed David with a beseeching gaze.

"Oh, alright," David said. "I'll take you back to your mother. She's probably looking for you."

He got to his feet, holding Luke in one arm. "Sorry, Kayton. He must have run off. He's getting very fast, and very silent when he wants to be."

"Not at all." Kayton looked curiously at Luke. "You're very fond of him, aren't you? That's unusual, given the circumstances, but a rather charming development."

"He's only a baby. I can't hold it against him."

"You don't look unalike though. If I didn't know better, I would think he was your son. You have the same colouring, if not the same features."

That was a bittersweet hurt.

"His features come from his mother, thankfully. And I had better take him back to her. I'll back in a moment, Kayton."

He left the room and went in search of Cate. He found her in the music room near his study, peering under a piano and calling Luke's name softly.

"Cate? Looking for this?"

She turned. "Oh! Luke! Where was he?" She stood up, flushing. "We were playing hide and seek."

"He's quite good at it, it seems." David came closer and passed Luke into her waiting arms. "He came to visit me in my study."

"He didn't! Oh, Luke, naughty! You mustn't!"

"No, it's fine. He's a welcome visitor, and my work is almost finished today." David pinched Luke's chubby cheek. "Bye, Lukey."

As he turned away, Luke began to wail. Cate shushed him.

"David has to go, darling. He's busy now."

"Daybee," Luke cried. "Daybee."

The cry hurt David's heart. He turned back and squeezed Luke's hand gently. "I'm only down the hall."

"He knows your name," Cate said. "David, Luke, David."

"Daybeed." Luke reached out for him. "Mama, Daybeed."

"It's not as easy as Mama," David said ruefully. "Or doggy. Perhaps I need a nickname."

"He'll learn soon enough," Cate said.

"He will." David disentangled his thumb from Luke's grasp. "Though I do wish..."

"What?"

"I cannot claim to be the man, but I would be honoured if one day he called me Papa. Uncle isn't quite right. And David is just a little too distanced for my liking. Though I suppose it depends what Luke ends up choosing to call me."

"He already loves you." Cate shook Luke gently. "What about Papa, hey? Can you say, papa?"

"Papa," Luke said obediently. "Papa."

It was both heart-warming and sad at the same time.

"You're the only Papa he'll ever have," Cate said. "If the blood ties don't matter to you, then they'll never matter to him."

"They don't." David leaned in to kiss Luke's forehead. "I can assure you, they don't. He's the only son I'll ever have."

As he said it, he realized how much he meant it. The earlier conversation with Kayton echoed in his mind. Luke could not reap the rewards from his work on the mines. He was not blood and he could not inherit the property. Of course, entails could be broken, but Paul would never agree to it and even then David himself did not approve of the idea. It was rank selfishness to break the arrangement that his ancestors had created, that he himself had profited from in his turn, in order to cut his brother from inheritance and privilege another man's son, no matter how much he loved him.

"I'm going to go out," David said slowly. "I want to talk with Paul about something. Kayton was expecting an invitation to dinner, I suspect, but I'll put him off."

"I don't mind having an old friend of yours to dinner, if you're here."

"I won't be able to get back from Paul's in time. I'll tell Kayton to give us some warning next time he invites himself in, then we can have him to dinner. Today, he'll have to sate himself at the local public house. He's certainly had worse in his time."

Cate's face fell slightly. "Sarah and I will miss you at dinner then. Say bye-bye to Papa, Luke."

Luke waved to David. "Bye-bye, Papa."

"Bye, Lukey." David pinched his cheek one last time. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Back downstairs, it was the work of minutes to get rid of Baxter and Kayton. David sent for his coach, as it looked like rain, and went upstairs only to change into a warmer coat. He was just leaving through the front door when he ran into Sarah, who was coming in, carrying an easel and paintbox in her arms.

"You almost ran me over!" she exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

"To see Paul," David said. "Where have you come from?"

"The garden. I've been painting." Sarah proudly turned the board on the easel towards him, revealing a rather muddy prospect of some scratchy bushes under a cloudy sky.

"What are those red blotches?" David asked.

"The roses."

"They don't bloom until summer."

"It wouldn't be a pretty picture without them."

It wasn't a pretty picture with them either. David shrugged. "I'm glad you've found an occupation that amuses you."

"Well, I've bored of it for the day. Can I come with you to visit Paul?" Sarah turned as the groom drove the coach into the sweep. "A chance of company is as good as a cure."

"Were you unwell today?"

"Just a little bored," Sarah admitted. "I won't delay you. I'll just put my things down inside and go as is. A little underdressed, perhaps, but Paul won't mind."

"We won't be back in time for dinner."

"We can eat with Paul, or at an inn. That will be an adventure for me."

"Come along then," David said. "You can keep me amused on the ride."

He did not mind if he kept Sarah's company or not, but he suspected that Cate would prefer not to dine alone with Sarah. Cate was too polite to openly express any displeasure in Sarah's company, but David was beginning to notice the little ways Sarah made her feel uncomfortable. He wanted to tell her that Sarah made everyone uncomfortable, but it did not seem polite to admit that of a cousin.

Sarah's face lit up. "Joyful! Just let me put down my things. I won't be a moment."

She darted inside the house. David heard something bang in the hallway, and she called out to a maid to tell Catherine that she would not be at dinner tonight. Then she rushed back outside, her cheeks flushed.

"There! I wasn't a moment!"

"Very rapid indeed," David said politely. "Let's go then."

He helped her into the coach and they set off. As it turned out, Sarah's company was a bit of a nuisance to David after all. He wanted to think, and she wanted to talk, and if he did not respond at appropriate moments with more than placatory expressions of surprise, she became vexed and demanded to know what it was that weighed upon his mind. When they finally arrived at Paul's house in Conwy, Sarah jumped out of the coach and banged on the knocker until Paul opened the door.

"I do declare your brother is the most impossible man that ever lived!" she said. "I've hardly had more than a grunt from him this past two hours."

"I was trying to think," David said apologetically.

"And he will not tell me what of!" Sarah took off her gloves and kissed Paul on the cheek. "But how do you do? How is your wife?"

Paul sighed heavily. "She is well, but very troubled at heart. Our hopes have once more been dashed."

"I'm sorry," David said. "It is early days yet though. You've only been married two years."

"Two and a half."

"But these things take time. You should not despair. I am sure that within a year you will have your own child."

It was a conversation David had had with Paul many times before. Since the day he had married, Paul had been expecting Annabelle to fall pregnant. It would no doubt happen one day, but until it did, Paul lived between hope and despair.

"You are right," Paul said. "It cannot take much longer. We have waited long enough."

"Perhaps you will console Annabelle?" David suggested to Sarah. "I have business to talk with Paul."

"What kind of business?" Sarah asked.

"Legal business," David said.

"I wanted to talk to Paul too," Sarah said.

"At dinner? May we invite ourselves?"

"I suppose Annabelle might feel more lively if she had company," Paul said. "In fact, you might speak with her now, Sarah. She is in her bedroom."

Sarah gave David a long-suffering look and trailed away up the stairs. Once she was gone, David went to Paul's study door and opened it. Paul had once taken an office in the town centre, but for the little business he had drawing up wills and and deeds of sale for the local squires and farmers, it was more convenient to simply keep all his business in the front room of his home and live in the floors above. Tenant farmers and tradesmen, however, were to enter through the servants' quarters in the back of the house, while gentleman farmers and merchants would receive a warm welcome at the front door. Nonetheless, David suspected Paul made a very good living through his profession.

"Well, what is it?" Paul said.

"I want to create a trust."

"A trust?" Paul sat down behind his desk. "For whom?"

"For Luke."

"You know Plas Bryn is entailed."

"I know. That's why he must have a trust. He can inherit nothing but what I choose to give him from my income and what I earned in the army. I've got most of my capital tied up in the estate right now, but I should be able to extract a thousand pounds to begin with. A thousand a year until he turns twenty should be more than enough to see him well set up."

"Twenty thousand pounds is certainly more than generous enough for your wife's bastard," Paul said. "Have you thought this through? Did Catherine put you up to it?"

"She doesn't know a thing about it. I want to arrange it with you first. It will need to be amended into my will in case I die before he turns twenty."

"The property is entailed."

"I am not speaking of touching the property. The earnings from the quarry and mine, the rents, the sale of any livings, the sale of timber, they are all mine to do what I please with as long as I am master of Plas Bryn. Then I have some investments in stocks, which have nothing to do with Plas Bryn at all."

"They are willed to your wife, are they not? I think I remember you willed them to her. Surely they would be enough to take care of her baby as well."

"Perhaps, but I want more than that for the boy. I want a trust. If I die before I can sequester the capital for it from the estate earning, then I must arrange for it to be found elsewhere. There is a way to do that, surely?"

A deep line grew between Paul's brows. "But not at all. If you put aside from what the estate earns in coming years, you can create the trust, but if you die tomorrow and the estate passes to me I could not, except out of generosity, give anything to the boy."

"I do not expect you to be generous," David said, quite truthfully. "What about the money I've put into the estate already? It is not twenty thousand, closer to six. Could that not be seen in the light of an investment, not as the estate capital? In four percents, it would be about ten thousand in twenty years. Not what I wish for, but enough for a sensible young man to get on with. Would it not be possible to write it into my will that that six thousand is to be withdrawn and invested?"

"It would be a little over thirteen thousand," Paul said distantly. "Assuming you reinvest the interest. I don't know. I suppose you could, though it is rewriting history a bit. And it would mean that when I inherit, I'd effectively have to give the boy six thousand of my own money."

"But it's not your money. It's my money, which I earned in my profession. I chose to invest it in the estate because Uncle Lew ran the place down to the point that the first year's earnings, or even the first three, wouldn't be enough to properly maintain it, let alone repair the damage he did through his neglect. And hopefully, by the time you inherit — if you do — the estate will have recovered to the point that it will produce six thousand without any pain to yourself."

"If I do?" Paul looked narrowly at David. "I am five years younger, remember."

"And two stone heavier."

"I've never been shot or stabbed," Paul countered. "I've never fallen off a horse. I've never challenged anyone to a duel. I've never been in a fist fight. You will certainly die before I do. Unless, of course, you mean to imply that you will have a son. You could, I suppose, cut me out."

There was the hint of a question in those words. David stared at Paul. Laurie had hinted, hadn't she, that Paul did not wish David to get close to Cate? That he was afraid David would have a son by Cate and cut him out of the inheritance? But Paul knew that the marriage was unconsummated. David had explained everything to him when he wrote his will. Cate was to be his wife in name alone. That was always the intention. An object of pity and contempt, taken care of because honour compelled him to do so, because there was no one in the world who cared to, but never forgiven.

There was a sudden bitter taste in David's mouth. "We are not breeding, if that is what you are asking."

"I was asking nothing." Paul put his hands up defensively, but behind them David though he caught the hint of a suppressed smile. "There was no question."

David's cheeks were hot for having spoken of so intimate a concern. "Can the trust be arranged or not?"

"I suppose so." Paul still sounded reluctant. "I'll draft it up tomorrow morning and have my clerk bring a copy to you in the afternoon."

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly playing cards with Annabelle and Sarah, and even Paul's company at dinner was tolerable. He was in good spirits, and, besides, the barbs in his tongue never seemed to come out in front of his mild mannered wife. After dinner, David and Sarah set off for Plas Bryn immediately in the hopes of arriving before midnight. The weather was getting rough again, with a faint rain spraying across the coach windows and glinting in the light of the lantern and a wind rushing about the hills.

Sarah shivered and moved from her seat opposite David to squeeze next to him. "It's freezing! Let's wrap that blanket around us."

"I'm quite warm in my coat. You can have all the blanket." David piled the old woollen blanket on her lap. "Better?"

"A little." Sarah wrapped the blanket over her knees. "What did you talk about with Paul? Am I allowed to enquire?"

"You're always allowed to ask, though that doesn't mean I will always tell you." David thought about it for a moment, then decided it was best not kept secret from his family. "I've arranged a trust for Luke, for his twentieth birthday."

"Oh! How very generous of you! But then, you are such a generous man. I do not know any other man, I am sure, who would do such a thing. And when you have every cause to be jealous of the little boy! The goodness of your heart is quite unmatched. How much is it to be?"

"Twenty thousand, I hope, but certainly at least thirteen."

Sarah's mouth dropped open. "Very generous indeed," she said faintly.

"Paul said similar, but I got the impression he wasn't very pleased with the idea." David drummed his fingers on the coach seat. "Laurie thinks he is afraid I will get a son by Cate and cut him out of the inheritance."

"I am sure Paul is not so avaricious."

"But he is avaricious. What I cannot see is him praying and hoping that I would not have a son when his entire marriage he has been praying and hoping that he will! Could he be so selfish?"

"We can all be a little selfish sometimes." Sarah patted David's hand. "If he spoke out of emotion, I would discount anything he said. Besides, he has nothing to fear, does he? You can never forgive her, and without forgiving her, you can never consumate the marriage. The door between your rooms will always remain locked."

But there was a door. And the key was on his side. David's fingers twitched.

"Of course, Catherine is a pretty little creature and I've no doubt you've been tempted," Sarah said, "but you are far too good a man to fall prey to sinful desires."

"Where would the sin be?" David asked. "In making love to my wife, or in being unable to forgive her? Sorry, Sarah. I should not speak so to you. But sin has no part in my relationship with Cate."

Sarah frowned. "Does that mean... Paul does have a reason to be afraid? No. Surely not. You cannot have."

She sounded almost distressed, but David was still distracted by the thought of the door between his and Cate's quarters. He had opened it before. He could quite easily unlock it. Push it open. Enter her room. Or he didn't even have to open it. He could merely unlock it, in case she needed him, in case she came slipping into his room in her bare feet one night, her nightdress floating around her ankles, in need of something, her soft voice whispering his name... had she whispered his name like that before? It seemed almost a memory. Had she woken him with a touch? Could she? Would her cool fingers slide down his shoulder, over his chest, under the blankets...

"David?"

He gave a full body shudder. "Sorry. Forgive me, Sarah. I spoke of things which I should not to an unmarried woman. It is a topic best not broached between us."

A topic best not even thought of, because thinking of it deprived him of all sense and reason.

__

2023-05-21: David's resistance is starting to crumble.