Page 31 of The Marquess of Temptation
"How do you remember who is who?" she asked, quelling the bile that was rising in her throat. There were no headstones or markers on the graves to distinguish who was buried beneath.
"I keep the name of every soul that lies in these grounds up here," the gravedigger said, pointing his finger to his head, which was covered by a mere wisp of grey hair. "I recite alls their names a'fore I fall asleep, say a prayer for them like. I knows they were judged not worthy of a headstone, but only the good Lord has the right to judge. Every soul deserves a prayer, is what I think."
Hot tears pricked Hestia's eyes at the man's simple words, and she felt a rush of gratitude to him for his compassion. It soothed her soul to think that there was someone else in the world, who cared enough to pray for her father.
"'Ere 'e is," Jim said, with little ceremony, as they reached a place where the earth still had the look of being recently disturbed. "I'll leave you alone for a moment."
Hestia stared down at the ground where her father lay buried, blinking back tears from her eyes. It was such a bleak, lonely spot --not a place he would have chosen, had he a choice.
"These are for you, father," she whispered, placing the bunch of flowers down on the mound of earth. She stood in silence, for how long she did not know, until she felt a strong hand take hers.
"You're shaking."
It was Alex, his voice low and deep with concern. Hestia had not noticed, but once he said it, she realised he was right. Her whole body trembled with a deep cold that seemed to have seeped into her very bones. She allowed her husband to lead her away, past Jim --whom he thanked--and back to the carriage.
She did not remember the journey from Truro to Bedford Hall, though she did remember the feeling of safety as her husband carried her bodily from the carriage and up the stairs to her bed chambers.
Alex removed her shoes and her outer garments, before placing her gently in her bed.
"Don't leave me," she whispered, though she was almost afraid of the sheer need she felt for the strength that his presence gave her.
"Never," was his gentle reply.
He lay down, still clothed, beside her and drew her to his chest. He stroked her back as she shed a thousand tears, and when she awoke in the morning, she was still wrapped in his arms, and nothing had ever felt so right.
