by Edith Layton
Eve didn’t take it.
“Oh, come along, do,” Arianna said impatiently. “What would be the point of my harming you? I want to be your sister, Eve, perhaps in every way. Because your brother Sheridan interests me. He is of your blood, and so he has great potential, for me, I think.”
Eve felt cold.
“But for now,” Arianna went on, “it will be just you. Don’t look so alarmed. You’re safe with me; we can come back any time you wish. The thing is,” she laughed, “you may not want to go home again.”
“No!” Eve exclaimed. “On second thought, no, thank you. I haven’t the time today.” She took a deep breath. She couldn’t be such a coward. She had to find out something, anything more, before she walked away. “But tell me, Arianna, did your parents tell you about this place, you and Aubrey?”
Arianna laughed. It was such pretty laughter, Eve thought sadly. It sounded like bells. But the lady was obviously mad as a hatter. It must run in the family, she realized, backing away. Aubrey was kind. But who knew if Arianna wasn’t violent? That might be why Aubrey wanted her to stay away from his sister. Eve put a hand over her abdomen as if she had something there to protect. She did, she realized. Her fertility, her legacy, her as yet unborn children. Her heart felt leaden when she thought about it. Because though she could perhaps tolerate Aubrey’s obsession and ignore his sister’s illusions, she realized she never wanted to deal with a weak-minded child as well.
Arianna’s eyes widened. Her smile was the broadest Eve had ever seen, so wide and white it was almost lupine. “Ah, I see! Oh wonderful! It’s true! Joy upon you, little sister. And I see you know already.”
“Know what?”
Arianna nodded to where Eve had placed her hand. “That you carry my brother’s child, of course. Early days for you to know, but I suppose you must have some powers or he wouldn’t have chosen you in the first place. This is more than exciting. Last time we met I thought perhaps, but it was too soon to know for certain, or even if the babe would take a tight hold. But it has. It grows and prospers.” She clapped her hands together and whirled around. “Such a special child too. The first one Aubrey has ever conceived. The first one any of us has conceived in generations. And if it’s born with the power, then it will be the first new one of our kind in generations. It gives us hope. It will mean that our long day is not yet ended.”
“I am with child?” Eve asked, astonished and yet suddenly convinced of this truth.
“Didn’t you know? Well, you should. Count your days, count the moon cycles, and you’ll see it’s true.” Arianna closed her brilliant blue eyes for a second, opened them, and smiled. “You will certainly know within the week, little sister. And to relieve your mind, it is a male child.”
Eve stood still. She had been feeling ill in the mornings, and weary in the day, when she ought not to be. She hadn’t dared hope, but now she believed what Arianna said. Not that she was having a boy, but that she was with child. It was possible.
“What fortune, what luck; what a clever fellow my brother is after all,” Arianna crowed. “Because luck had little to do with it. How did he know he’d find such welcome in you? Who could have guessed it? Such a simple earth-bound female as you are, and yet with an interesting heritage, and above all else, the ability to continue our own heritage. He followed your line and found gold in plain earth. His powers are wider than even I knew, and I salute him.”
“That’s all you think he married me for?” Eve asked.
“Of course,” Arianna said. “Why else? Don’t look so unhappy, it’s a great honor to bear one of our kind. You’ll be awarded great riches and tribute. And never fear, we’ll bring the child up to appreciate you as well as his own legacy.”
“You?” Eve asked in shock. “You will raise my child?”
Arianna laughed again. “Who else should rear such a miraculous child? You? I can’t wait to tell the others! I’ll see you again, little sister. I salute you, and don’t worry; I’ll see no harm comes to you. What joy!” she said, twirling in place again, creating a swirl of gold and green. “Good day, Eve. Until we meet again, adieu!”
Arianna vanished as quickly as she’d arrived.
Eve walked on slowly. She had much to think about. Was she really pregnant? It would explain the wretched feeling she’d had this morning. Arianna’s guess was right at least in that she wouldn’t know for another week. But there was no magic in that. Arianna could have found out her moon cycles from maidservants and the laundress at the Hall.
If she were really going to have a child she was thrilled. But also now very worried. Arianna was certainly mad. Aubrey was…confused or deluded, at times, about his identity. But if this unborn child bore any such tendencies, then being exposed to his aunt would be dreadful. Eve stopped in her tracks. And being exposed to his father would be just as bad.
But she loved Aubrey so much. He was wise and kind, gentle and loving. He was her soul mate. He made her laugh and cry, and she didn’t know how she’d lived her life so far without him.
And he believed that he was more than three hundred years old, not mortal as humans were, and had supernatural powers. Not even love could overleap such an obstacle. It could, she supposed, because it had done in her case. But only because she hadn’t known when she’d married him. And now the love for her own unborn child began to preoccupy her.
Eve walked on slowly, thinking, arguing with herself, worrying and planning. At last, she stopped. She came to a decision. She turned around, retracing her steps, and walked back to the Hall. First, she’d wait and see if it was true that she bore a child at all. Then, if she did, she’d do whatever she had to do to ensure its safety now, and forever. She could do no more, and certainly no less.
Eve strolled into Aubrey’s study when he returned after doing his errands around the manor. “I saw your sister today,” she said.
He was rumpled, his dark hair tousled. He was in his shirtsleeves, his neckcloth gone as he went through the post he was sorting on his desk. He looked up at her comment, his eyes bright and concerned. “Where?”
“I walked down a path near the wood, and suddenly, she was there.”
He frowned. “And what did she say this time? You seem a little disturbed.”
Again, she wondered if she could ever hide anything from those perceptive eyes of his. “The usual,” she said as casually as she could, waving a hand. But she also felt relief. Obviously he hadn’t seen his sister, because he hadn’t known.
“You see her more than I do, you poor girl,” he said, shuffling through the letters once again.
Eve breathed a relieved sigh as she took a chair near his desk. So he wouldn’t know what had been discussed. She wanted to keep it that way. “You two don’t get together often?” she asked.
He shook his head. “We don’t get along. We have different views of the world. And we both have tempers.”
“I’ve never seen yours,” she commented.
“Nor will you,” he said, looking up again with a brilliant smile.
“Nor hers,” she said idly, while watching him closely.
His expression changed. “Nor should you.” He stood and put both hands flat on the desk as he stared at her. “As I’ve said before, I’d prefer if you had as little to do with her as possible. She seems charming, but her intentions are always self-serving and seldom to anyone’s benefit but her own. So ignore her, and never worry about insulting me because you do, because so do I.”
Eve smiled. That suited her perfectly.
“I care about our people too,” he went on. “And I too try to help them. But I don’t have as much—I shouldn’t call it malice, but I must—in my heart. She can be unkind, even cruel, to those she thinks inferior, and however pleasant she seems when she’s with you, you’re mortal, so she believes you to be inferior.”
Eve stiffened. There it was again. He was as deluded as his sister. “And you?” she asked.
He stared at her.
“Do you believ
e me to be inferior?”
“Would I have married you if I did?” he asked in return. His eyes blazed. “Damnation, Eve, what did she say to you to get you to doubt yourself and me again?”
“She was talking about our future,” Eve said, telling half a truth to buy the whole of it. “About the possibility of our having children.”
He stood straight. He frowned again. “I’ve hopes, I confess, that with you I will, we will do just that. Why? Have you any indications?” he asked eagerly.
“No, no,” she said, hating herself for the lie. “I thought…but I was wrong. Still, it’s early days yet. Aubrey,” she said seriously, “what bothered me was that Arianna said that if we did have a child, she’d have the raising of it. She, and you, and your people. Not me.” She watched his expression. “You said you’d never lie to me,” she prompted gently.
“Early days yet, as you said,” he said.
“Yes, but, if those days ever come?”
“You would, of course, come with me wherever I went,” he said. “If the child was like me, and my sister, it would only make sense to acquaint him with his birthright. But come, its foolishness discussing this now. Obviously my sister upset you more than you know. I tell you what,” he said, as he came out from behind the desk, came to her and put his arms around her. “Why don’t we try to see if we can make the question arise…” he whispered against her ear, “among other things.”
She forced a laugh. “Not now. I’m still a bit disconcerted. Let me take a nice warm bath, and then, we shall see what…comes up.” She laughed again.
She wanted to buy herself time to think. The longer she stayed here with Aubrey, the more confused she became. He mightn’t have bespelled her, as he believed he could. But she’d fallen so much in love with him that she was afraid that the longer she remained with him, the weaker her own hold on sanity would become. She needed to see things in perspective and that was unbearable to think about when she so much as looked at him. When he touched her, it was impossible. Right now the thought of leaving him was like a stabbing pain in her chest. Soon she believed it might cut her to the heart, and she’d surely die if she left him.
But now he didn’t leave her side and his warm breath on her ear made her shiver. “It’s still light, is that what bothers you?” he asked gently. “There’s no shame in love by day or night, my love.”
She leaned against him, one hand on his chest, fighting her desire and her resolve. “I know,” she whispered. “But the servants…”
“Think we are holy married monk and nun? I don’t think so,” he murmured, as he trailed kisses along her neck. “We don’t even have to go upstairs. Look at the rug, the deep chairs, the lovely couch I have here. There’s even a floor and a wall or two.” He chuckled. “But that’s more advanced, for other times, when there’s no question but haste, and no time for questions. The couch? Yes, so I think too.”
He walked her to the leather couch and sat her down. He smiled down at her. “Three steps more,” he said. “One,” he said as he walked to the door, closed it, and turned back to her.
“Two,” he said as he pulled off his shirt. Then he sat beside her and took her in his arms again. “Three,” he said. “We’re alone, no need to count any higher or wait a moment longer. Are you fearful of coming to me in the broad light of day? Or of being here, where we never make love? Please don’t be. Even the thought displeases me.”
Poetry, she thought with despair. When he is impassioned he speaks in rhyme, his wild fancy is with him all the time. Ah, it’s catching, she thought with humorous despair. But she loved him more each day, even with what she now knew. She found herself wanting him as much as she wanted to comfort him for reasons he wouldn’t understand. She shivered as she removed her gown.
He sat back and looked at her for a long moment. Her mind might shy from his intent inspection, but her body responded to his direct brown gaze as it traveled across her like a caress. Her nipples peaked, her color rose, her breathing became rapid.
He smiled as he bent to pull off his boots, and divested himself of his breeches. Then he lay down next to her on the narrow couch until they were skin to skin, heart to heart. She ran her hands through his clean smooth hair, it felt silken cool as it streamed through her fingers. She felt his hard chest against her breasts, and his arousal against her abdomen. It pulsed like her own heart’s irregular beat. There was no need for further kisses or caresses, she was astonished at how ready she was, how much she wanted him.
“Come to me,” she whispered, holding him closer. “Here, now, just like this, and now please.”
“Yes,” he whispered to her. “Whether we prove successful or only appease ourselves. Whether we continue my line, or yours, or only spend joyous time, you are mine, and I am yours, and nothing can change that.”
He put his arm around her waist and raised her bottom from the couch. She clung to his shoulders and opened to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, offering her body to his. As he came to her, she closed her eyes and forgot the future and the past, forgot even to think as she became one with him.
Sometime in the night, he carried her up to their bedchamber, and they made love again on their soft broad bed, slowly, beautifully, and as exquisitely as if they both were dreaming of love.
And when he woke in the morning, this time it was she who was gone before the sun had fully risen.
Chapter 17
The note she left for him, on her pillow, was simple and concise.
Dear Aubrey,
I must have time to think. Your sister said some disturbing things to me. And without knowing it, so did you. So I am leaving you for a little while—only a little while—just enough time to think. And then I’ll be back, I promise. Please don’t be angry that I left with only a note and didn’t tell you myself. It was because whatever else you do, or think you do, you do bespell me when I look into your eyes.
I needed to think for myself for a while. To be by myself as well. You always said I was level-headed and I wish to remain so. I love you so very much. I do this for the both of us, and will return soon. Please forgive me. Yr. Eve.
It was a fearsome thing to leave one’s husband, Eve thought as the mail coach carried her through the countryside to London. It was wrong and deceitful, and if he’d left her the same way, she wasn’t sure she’d forgive him for it. But she had to. Her marriage was becoming too strange, and now she was convinced she was carrying Aubrey’s child. Before she went any further, she had to go forth with a clear head. She’d had to act quickly. Soon travel wouldn’t be as easy for her as it was now. She didn’t want to endanger this babe she carried.
And yet so much as she loved Aubrey, and that was as much as her own life itself, still, under no circumstances did she want that child being brought up by people who shared Aubrey’s strange fantasies.
She’d talk to her father. He was not a fanciful man. If she had to, she’d go anonymously to talk with a physician who dealt with weird fantasies people succumbed to, and see if he had any ideas of how to deal with this problem. And she’d also take the time to warn Sherry about Arianna’s obsession with him. He was too young and callow to get involved with such a female. However old he was, she didn’t want her brother to have to deal with the same kind of problems she now had.
She’d only been gone from Far Isle for a matter of hours, and yet the pain of leaving Aubrey was intense and growing even more so with every milestone she passed on the road. Would he forgive her? Would he come thundering down the road behind her, and tear her from the coach and take her back to the Hall? She half feared that he would, and she half wanted him to do it.
Or would he desert her, as he may have done with other wives before? She hadn’t known he’d had three wives when she’d married him. She still couldn’t believe it. He may well have had them; a man didn’t need to be three hundred years old to have been widowed that often. But had he even been married? The things that had sent her flying from him were the things she h
adn’t known when she’d accepted his hand, his heart, and his body. Or at least, they were the things he hadn’t told her.
Even so, she felt guilt and shame. What sort of a person was she, to leave her lawfully wedded husband? Especially if he were ill and suffering delusions? Still and all, what sort of a husband had she, who believed he was an almost immortal magical creature, and who would take her child from her and bring it up to believe that it was magical too?
She raised her chin. She’d go to London and reason out what to do. She’d taken the Royal Mail coach because it went faster than any other, and she felt more secure in it. The coach would travel onward without stopping for more than changes of horses, all the way to London. She’d sleep sitting up, when she could, and then go straight to her father’s house. It had been her home too.
Her father had been in London with Sheridan when she’d last had a letter from him. But he loved his country house too. If he weren’t in London now because he’d gone there, she’d stay in London and send for him to come and meet her.
Aubrey doubtless guessed where she was going. Where else should she go for comfort and advice? But if he wasn’t pursuing her now, she’d have time to do what she needed.
Eve drew herself as far away as she could from the old lady who dozed on the carriage seat on her right, and the rotund gentleman who sat snoring on her left. She closed her eyes to ignore the two gentlemen sitting opposite her. She couldn’t sleep and didn’t expect to. Instead she thought of her husband, and grieved for him, for herself, and for their child to be. Because she feared that this short leave from Aubrey might become the end of her marriage. But whatever she did, she couldn’t just think of herself anymore. She had other lives to protect. Not just Aubrey’s. But his child’s as well.
The journey took a day and a night. Eve was weary and aching in every limb when the Mail stopped at the Bull and Mouth, the famous coaching inn just inside London’s ancient wall. She left the coach on stiffened legs, took her hastily loaded cases, summoned a hackney, and directed him to her father’s town house. Only when she looked out the window as the hackney finally slowed, and saw the familiar house, did she breathe easier. The knocker was still on the door; her father still lived there.