Page 58 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“If I were a man, I’d consider that question a challenge,” Etty said. “And we’re as good as men, are we not, Frances?”
“We’re better!”
“That we are.”
Before her courage failed, Etty rushed forward to meet an oncoming wave, then plunged into the water.
Her chest constricted at the cold, and she drew in a sharp breath, but she struck out with her arms and swam beyond the wave where the water was calmer, shifting up and down in a gentle swell. At length, the shock of the cold subsided, and she let out a cry of joy.
“Look, Gabriel! Look at your mama!”
Etty turned, treading water, to see Frances on the shoreline, a laughing Gabriel in her arms. She raised her hand in a wave, then turned over to float on her back and look up at the sky. Such an extraordinary shade, rich and pure. Perhaps it reflected the color of the sea. It was so unlike the skies of London, which had always carried a note of gray, as if the town drained the world of its natural beauty.
She drew in a deep breath, the air rushing in her ears, then closed her eyes. Her son’s far-off laughter was punctuated by the cries of the seabirds circling above the cliffs and the rushing of the water. The sounds of nature.
Then another cry rose—a distant voice roaring, as if in pain.
Frances stood by the shore, Gabriel clutching at her skirts, the wide expanse of sand and the cliff rising beyond.
Then Etty saw it—a figure stumbling down the path, arms waving.
What was he doing?
A voice cried out, then the figure lost balance and tumbled to the foot of the path.
Then Etty heard Frances calling something, but the rush of the water in her ears obliterated the words. She kicked out and swam toward the shore.
“Frances!” she cried. “I’m coming!”
The figure in black struggled to its feet and continued running toward the shore, and Etty’s heart stuttered as she recognized the vicar.
He wasn’t running toward Frances. He was running toward her.
“Out!” he cried. “Get out!”
“What’s wrong?” she called.
She continued to swim toward the shore, but he gave no sign of stopping. As the water grew shallower, she reached out withher feet and, gaining purchase, stood, the water reaching her waist.
“For the love of the Almighty—get out of the sea, you foolish woman!”
His voice hoarse and laced with fury, he shouted once more, then ran straight into the sea, the waves crashing about his legs, soaking his breeches.
“Andrew, don’t be a fool!” she cried as he bore down on her.
“I’m not the fool!” he yelled. “Dear God, what were youthinking?” He lunged forward and grasped her arms. “How could you be so reckless?” he cried. “Do youwantto drown?”
She winced as he tightened his grip. “Of course I don’t want to drown!” she retorted. “Icanswim, you know.”
“But you don’t know about the currents here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Why didn’t you stop her, Frannie? I never took you for a simpleton. You know about the currents, foolish girl!”
“That’s enough!” Etty cried. “You may insult me all you like, but leave Frances alone. I chose to swim. Frances told me about the currents—and what to do.”
He thrust his face close, an inferno of fury and fear in his eyes. “It’s too great a risk to take, Etty,” he said. “You have a child—would you abandon him? Do you care so little for him that you’d leave him motherless?”
“How dare you!” she cried. “I love my son more than anything. Do you think I’m so reckless as to ignore my son’s needs—the needs of others?”
“But youarereckless,” he said. “You have no comprehension of what you have done in coming here. Sandcombe is not somewhere you can toy with when you’ve grown bored of your former life. It’s a living entity—a community of real people with real lives. I was content in my life before you arrived. Of all the places in the world, why did you have to comehere?”
