by Darcy Burke
Without hesitation, Gwyneth plunged forward. “Brue Cottage is the location of an ancient circle of women—healers who practice the old ways.”
“Magic?” Daphne asked and wished she hadn’t as soon as Gwyneth sent her a perturbed stare. “Sorry,” she muttered and dropped her gaze to her lap.
“No, I’m sorry,” Gwyneth said. “I am not always adept when it comes to social situations. I don’t wish to be brusque. I am just so thrilled to have my cousin here.” She beamed at Gideon before turning her gaze back to Daphne, and this time, it was decidedly warmer. “I am happy to see you too—and I want to talk to you about Morgana. It’s just, well, we’re related.” She shot a grin toward Gideon, who smiled in return. In fact, it was the most boyish, relaxed expression Daphne had ever seen on his face.
“To answer your question,” Gwyneth continued, “yes, magic. In a manner of speaking. We are spiritual and connected to the earth in ways most people can never imagine. And that’s all I shall say about that. Morgana was one of us, raised in our order. She was sent to Cornwall to study with another group of healers, and that is where she met a young Arthur. They formed a bond but parted. They didn’t meet again until her nephews were sent to fight for him. Her sister, Morgause, was worried all her sons would die, and she asked Morgana to go and bless them.”
Daphne was absolutely rapt and ended up echoing Gideon. “Extraordinary.”
“From then on, she stayed with Arthur as his healer. Mostly. She came back here on occasion. It was all documented by Elidyr.” She gestured toward the bookshelves. “I’ll fetch the Beckery Texts in a moment so you may read them. Or you can take them with you.” She looked at Gideon as she said this.
He gaped at her. “You’d let me take them?”
“They’re yours. They tell our family’s history, and I do not have any children, nor do I expect to. They should go to someone in our lineage, and that is you.”
“I don’t have any children either.” His voice sounded dark and tight, as if it were constricted with pain. Daphne thought of the child he’d lost and suspected it was.
“But you might,” Gwyneth said. “In fact, I am all but certain you will. Just as certain as I am that I am barren.”
“How can you know that for sure?” Daphne asked, thinking it must be magic.
Gwyneth fixed her with a flat stare. “When you make an effort to get with child and always come up empty, you know for sure.”
Heat rose up Daphne’s neck, and she could only think to nod in response. She’d planned to ask how she could be certain that Gideon would have children, but decided she didn’t want to ask any more questions of that nature.
“It’s a shame since we have always taken care to preserve our lineage, but others in our order will do so.”
“Order?” Gideon asked, his attention clearly piqued.
Gwyneth chuckled. “Not that Order, and yes, I’m aware of that nonsense organization. My grandmother thought we might unify with them—she was quite taken with that Pritchard fellow. But he got too greedy and didn’t respect our ways, so she severed the connection.”
So that was what had happened. Daphne glanced toward Gideon and wondered how much of this he would share with Septon.
“Now let me tell you about the treasures.” Gwyneth’s eyes lit, and her enthusiasm was palpable. “As you know, there are thirteen, and as you likely know, they were given to Gareth by Arthur and the other knights when he married. In truth, the cloak was given to him much later, when Arthur no longer had need of it, but this fact is generally lost along with so many others.”
Daphne wanted to know what that meant but didn’t dare interrupt.
“Gareth kept them safe from those who would seek to take them and use them for their own devious plans. He vowed to take them to his grave, and he did. Except for the sword and the cloak, which he gave to his son, and the heart, which he gave to his daughter. Those items have been passed down generation to generation until they were hidden. I have heard rumors that they were found. And I don’t mean that hideous fake heart that’s in the Ashmolean Museum.” She made a face.
“Yes, the sword was found several weeks ago and the heart more recently.”
She lifted her hand to her chest and widened her eyes as she leaned forward. “You’ve seen them?”
“They were in my possession,” Gideon said.
Gwyneth frowned. “Were? Where are they now?”
“Safe for the time being.” Gideon apparently didn’t plan to tell her where they were, and Daphne saw no need to do so either. She didn’t think Gwyneth would appreciate Gideon giving them to anyone. “Once I have the cloak, I will retrieve them.”
“Did you use them?” Gwyneth asked, her voice taking on a breathless quality.
“I used the sword.”
“And it flames?” At his nod, she sat back and lowered her hand to her lap, beaming in wonder. “Marvelous.”
“The other ten treasures are with Gareth?” Gideon asked.
“Yes.” Gwyneth narrowed her eyes shrewdly at Gideon. “I can anticipate your next question, and the answer is no. I do not know where that is. That is the final mystery. The eternal secret. Please don’t go looking for him.”
“Even to return the heart, sword, and cloak?” Gideon asked softly.
Gwyneth startled in surprise, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping for a brief moment. “You would do that?”
“I intend to do that.”
“You don’t want them for yourself?” She sounded rather befuddled. “That would be your right.”
“Perhaps, but it is my duty to keep them safe from those who would misuse them. And to keep everyone safe from the harm they could cause.” Gideon’s pledge was so noble and so honest, Daphne couldn’t help but want him to succeed. Which meant not giving the cloak to her father.
Gwyneth leaned back against her chair with a sly smile. “You are the Worthy.” She said the word as if it were a title, with great reverence. “The prophecy foretold you would come, but we didn’t know when.”
Daphne couldn’t help but stare at Gideon, at the look of sheer astonishment that drained most of the color from his face. And then Gwyneth stole the rest of it by saying, “What if I told you the cloak has been in your possession all along?”
Chapter 10
Gideon’s entire body trembled with awe and anticipation and a thousand other emotions. The Worthy—what did that mean? He had the cloak?
He fought to regain his composure. “I would know if I had the cloak, and I do not.”
“Do you have a chest containing items from the Nash family?” Gwyneth asked.
“Yes, but there isn’t a cloak inside it.” He went over the contents of the chest in his mind, his heart thumping. Definitely no cloak. The overwhelming joy he’d felt a moment ago was utterly destroyed by a terrible sense of loss.
She sat forward in her chair, more animated than she’d been yet. “There has to be. It’s been there for centuries. The chest has been replaced a time or two, but the contents should be there.”
“Someone may have stolen it,” Daphne said, wincing apologetically in Gideon’s direction.
Of course someone had stolen it. But who? The chest had been in his family’s possession and its presence kept secret from most everyone—including him. “I didn’t even realize the chest existed until very recently.”
“That is not surprising. Generally, it is passed on when it must be—and not a moment sooner. I take it your grandfather just died?”
“No, he died two years ago.”
Gwyneth sucked in a breath. “And you’re only now learning of it? That is not how that was meant to be handled.” She scowled and then exhaled, forcing her features to relax. “It may have gone missing in that interim. Do you know where it’s been?”
With Rhys, and Gideon would wager his life Rhys would never steal something, let alone from him. “Yes, and it’s been protected and safe. I’m certain of it.”
She pouted briefly in disa
ppointment. “Ah, well, what is past is past. Do you have the chest with you now?”
Gideon shook his head. “I don’t.”
She didn’t seem surprised, nor was she upset. “You will go get it and bring it to me.”
“How will that help matters if the cloak isn’t there?” Gideon couldn’t begin to imagine.
“I should like to see what is in the chest. We may be able to determine what happened to the cloak.”
“Is the chest…like the treasures?” Daphne asked.
“You mean enchanted.” Gwyneth looked up at the ceiling for a moment as if she were weighing how to answer. She lowered her gaze to Daphne with a succinct “Yes.”
Gideon was suddenly desperate to fetch the chest. He stood. “We’ll go immediately. It’s two days away. You could come with us,” he said to Gwyneth.
She shook her head vigorously. “No, no. I don’t leave Glastonbury. You’ll have to bring it back here.”
How…frustrating. But he wouldn’t be angry, not when she’d shared so much. He could scarcely believe he’d found someone he could call family. That feeling of being alone that he and Daphne had talked about last night had permeated his soul for so long. Knowing he had an extended family and a purpose as Gareth’s descendant filled him with joy.
Daphne rose from the settee. “I don’t suppose you have any writings by Morgana?”
Light danced in Gwyneth’s eyes. She jumped up from her chair and flew to the bookshelves. Holding up her hand, she fluttered her fingertips along several spines before removing a book. She spun to a long worktable, much like Rhys Bowen’s but even larger, which stood near the center of the room.
She set the book down and gently opened the cover, then peered over at them. “Aren’t you going to come look at it?”
Daphne scrambled to join her, and Gideon followed. “What is it?” Daphne asked reverently.
“A few recipes for tonics and other things. But they are believed to be in her hand.” Gwyneth gestured to the ancient vellum on which was scrawled a barely legible list of ingredients. The ink was quite faded on the loose pages, which were simply tucked into the book.
“How do you know it’s her?” Daphne breathed, her gaze glued to the wonder before her.
Gideon was thrilled for her—to see something written by a woman you’d long studied had to be incredibly exciting. And satisfying. “She’s who you thought she was,” he said.
Daphne glanced up at him, her eyes vivid with emotion. “Yes.”
“Turn the page,” Gwyneth said. “Just be careful.”
Hesitantly, Daphne gently flipped the vellum. There was another list of ingredients. Gwyneth encouraged her to keep going. A third list. And then on the fourth page, something different: a letter written to Morgause and signed, Your loving sister, Morgana.
“That’s how we know,” Gwyneth said softly.
“Actual proof she was real.” When Daphne lifted her head, her eyes were damp with unshed tears.
“Yes, but you can’t say so, I’m afraid.” Gwyneth exhaled sympathetically. “To confirm Morgana’s existence—or Arthur’s, for that matter—is to expose Brue Cottage to scrutiny and unscrupulousness. People always try to steal from us, and attempt to sneak in to learn what they can, like Pritchard. The only reason I’m sharing this with you is because I know how hard you’ve worked to prove Morgana isn’t the manipulative sorceress the stupid French wrote her to be. And because he’s family.” She gestured toward Gideon, then abruptly turned and went back to the bookshelf. When she returned, she carried three books.
“These are the Beckery Texts.” She stood aside and gestured for Gideon to come and look at them.
He couldn’t possibly read them now. He was too anxious to go to Hollyhaven to fetch the chest. “Will you keep them for me?” he asked her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can with the chest.”
“They should go into the chest.” She clasped her hands at her waist and nodded. “This is a sound plan.”
“We should go,” Daphne said, looking at the Morgana documents wistfully.
Gwyneth moved toward Daphne and pinned her with a dubious stare. “Are you sure you aren’t in love with Gideon? If you were together, I might decide to let you have one of the recipes. You won’t be able to definitively prove it was Morgana’s, but the age is accurate and you could say it likely is. Plus, there is proof that she’s a healer in the Beckery Texts.”
Septon’s Beckery manuscript already proved it, but Gideon didn’t point that out. His cousin, while lovely, was a bit mercurial, and he feared she would demand he return it. Or give it to Gideon. In fact, perhaps Gideon would ask the Order for it.
“I’m certain we aren’t in love,” Daphne said, in answer to Gwyneth’s question and glancing toward him. “Though I hold him in very high esteem.”
Their eyes met, and Gideon realized he felt the same about her. He’d been angry that she’d tried to trick him into marriage, but acknowledged she had, in her mind, good reason. She was trying to please the only family she had left. He could understand why that connection was so important to her.
“Let’s see where things are when you return,” Gwyneth said with a chuckle. “Are you certain I can’t feed you something before you go?”
“No, we only recently broke our fast,” Gideon said. He stepped toward her and took her hands in his. “You have been most hospitable. And you’ve given me more than I could ever have hoped for.”
She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “You have done the same. I shall look forward to your return.”
When they parted, she patted his shoulders before dropping her hands. Then she bellowed, “Margaret!”
The tiny woman came into the room but didn’t seem to be in a hurry.
“Will you please show our guests out?” Gwyneth asked. “Fetch their headwear from the settee.”
Daphne turned to Gwyneth and curtsied. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge with us. This has been one of the best mornings of my entire life.”
Gwyneth gave her a bright smile. “I’m so glad.”
With a final nod, Gideon turned and guided Daphne from the library, his hand at her back.
Margaret led them back to the entry and handed them their hats before opening the door. The morning—for it was still morning despite how event filled this day already seemed—was bright, with high clouds scuffing across the sky.
Gideon bowed to Margaret, and Daphne curtsied again before stepping outside, where she swept her hat onto her head. She strode toward the horses, and Gideon followed, clapping his hat low over his brow.
He untied the animals and helped Daphne into her seat. “How I loathe this veil,” she said. “I’m leaving it off until we reach Glastonbury. Is there any chance we can skirt the town?”
He climbed onto his horse. “Only if you want to ride even closer to Ashridge Court.”
She exhaled. “No. We can spend tonight in Keynsham at my cottage.”
“Won’t someone be waiting there for us?” Gideon asked. He wiped a hand over his chin and frowned at her. “We haven’t discussed what comes next.”
“Because we had no idea what we’d find here.” She shook her head, her expression one of amazement. “I still can’t quite believe it all…”
“Everything we hoped.” Almost—he still didn’t know where Gareth’s tomb was located, but he’d puzzle that out too. First, he’d get the chest and find the damn cloak. How he wished they could ride straight through the night to Hollyhaven. He could if it wasn’t for her… In fact, why was he even taking her? He didn’t need her at all any longer.
“My father will wonder where I am,” she said, interrupting his internal debate. “He would have expected us to return yesterday. We should stop in Glastonbury so I can dispatch a note to Ashridge Court.”
“Saying what?” Gideon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to dispatch a note. You need to return home.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to find
the cloak without me?”
Their time together had come to an end. “I can’t let you give it to your father.”
“I don’t plan to.”
He’d already started to turn his horse toward the lane, but he stopped and blinked at her. “You don’t?” When she shook her head, he asked, “What changed your mind?”
“Gwyneth was right. It—and the other treasures—are your heritage. They belong to you. And to her. The Order can want to keep them safe, but it isn’t their responsibility. Or their right.”
“Your father will not agree with you,” he said darkly.
“I know.”
The path Gideon was on didn’t include her. “Daphne, it would be best for you to return home and forget about the cloak—and about me.”
“Probably, but I don’t want to. I would like to see this through.” She straightened, looking him earnestly in the eye. “Once you have the cloak and have found Gareth’s burial site, you can be rid of me.”
He doubted he’d ever be rid of her entirely. He hated thinking of her going back to Ashridge Court, to her father—because she felt alone. And because Foliot was a murderous lunatic. How could he send her back there?
Gideon studied her. “If you wrote to your father, what would you say to buy us time?” Did it really matter? She’d supposedly ridden to meet him as he returned from Keynsham. She was as good as ruined. Never mind that he’d actually been alone with her—including in a bed—for the past day.
She lifted a shoulder. “I could tell him that we already wed?”
He didn’t like that she was so cavalier with her reputation. “And then what happens when people learn we were never married? You would likely be ruined.”
“As we’ve already discussed, I have no plans to join Society nor do I care what people think of me.”
“I used to feel that way,” he said quietly. “Then you reach a point where you realize it matters, that it affects those around you.” He thought of Rose and how some ridiculed her for marrying a man like him. He also thought of the pitying stares directed his way and the whispered comments he heard bits and pieces of after his mother left. “Oh, that poor boy. To have two profligate parents…”