Mary rolled over onto her back and forced her mind onto other thoughts. Aunt Margaret would be paying them a visit soon. She was staying with Sabrina now, but had planned to arrive next week. Mary compared Green Willows with Camareigh as she thought of the differences between their homes, and how small Green Willows would seem after the grandeur of Camareigh. Her home might not have the grand staircases and painted ceilings, nor the state rooms of Camareigh, but the red brick, mullioned windows, and gables created a pleasing effect at the end of the yew-hedged drive. They had a lovely, carved staircase and an oak-paneled dining room besides the salons and drawing rooms decorated in her favorite yellows and blues. She had just finished redoing the nurseries, placing toy soldiers confidently in a toy chest. With a satisfied smile she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the day she would hold her son in her arms.
It was the sound of the big clock in the hall striking twelve that wakened her. She sat up with a start and was surprised to find her nightgown soaking with perspiration. Her face felt clammy and with a cry of terror Mary tumbled out of bed and ran from the room, nearly falling as she stumbled down the stairs in panic.
Terence was bent over the papers on his desk, his quill scratching across the surface as he wrote, when he was startled by Mary breathlessly running into the library. He looked up in surprise, muttering an oath beneath his breath as he saw her pale face and hurried to her.
“What in God’s name has happened?” he demanded worriedly as he half-lifted Mary to a chair. “It’s not the child?” he asked suddenly, fear on his face.
Mary shook her head, and with a deep sigh of relief he left her to pour a glass of brandy, wrapping her cold fingers around the glass and guiding it to her bluish-tinged lips. He took her hands when she had finished it and rubbed them vigorously, hoping to return the circulation to them. “Mary,” he pleaded. “You must tell me what has happened. Something has terrified you. Now tell me, what is it?”
Mary looked at him with enormous gray eyes darkened almost to onyx. The bones of her face showed sharply under the grayish tinge of her skin, reminding him of a bleached skull.
“I had let my mind drift. I’d been so worried about Sabrina that I tried to put her out of my mind,” Mary explained shakily.
Terence nodded. “There is nothing you can do for them, Mary. They must find the solution themselves, but they are so damned stubborn. I don’t want you worrying yourself—”
“Oh, Terence, it isn’t that,” Mary broke in desperately, grabbing his hands in a surprisingly strong grip. “I feel death closer than ever before. As though a breath of cold air from the grave had caressed my cheek.”
“Mary,” Terence murmured, “this has got to stop. You’ll make yourself ill.”
Mary stared through him, looking a stranger to his eyes. “I heard pipes, and saw the moon shining across the loch. It was so sad, so bleak and still, as though time had stood still. And then I saw people, but the faces weren’t clear at first, until the mists lifted and I saw a boat floating through it.”
Mary’s eyes refocused and she looked at Terence’s reassuring face imploringly. “It was Sabrina in the boat, and Richard beside her, and I could feel something was wrong.”
“Now, Mary,” Terence patted her hand, a placating note in his voice. “You’ve admitted to yourself that you’ve been worried. It was a dream, that is all.”
Mary pulled her hands free angrily. “Do not patronize me, Terence. This was no dream. It was a vision of something horrible that is going to happen. And,” she whispered, swallowing back her tears, “it is going to happen to Sabrina. Oh, Terence, trust me. I’ve lived with these feelings all of my life, and I know when to believe them. It is something I cannot ignore. Please believe that what I am telling you is true.”
Terence stared at her clenched hands and wide eyes, still doubtful. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “I don’t know anything except some vague images you’ve told me about.”
Mary leaned forward, the color returning to her cheeks as the brandy warmed her. “We must go to Camareigh. We must make sure that Sabrina and Richard don’t go to Scotland.”
“Scotland! You think they would travel all the way up there? Why, for heaven’s sake? Mary, listen to me, it doesn’t make sense. Sabrina would not leave Rhea and go running off to Scotland, much less with Richard trailing along.” Terence raised his voice, trying to make her see reason.
“You don’t understand at all. If it’s not in print before your eyes you refuse to believe it,” Mary accused him, feeling in that moment the first impatient anger she had ever had toward Terence. “I know, and believe, with every breath in me that my vision will come true unless we do something to stop it.”
Mary stood up, her rounded figure revealed clearly by her thin nightgown, and facing Terence, said with determination, “I will not have this tragedy on my conscience. I intend to drive to Camareigh and warn Sabrina—unless it is already too late.” She turned stiffly and made to move past Terence.
“Mary,” Terence whispered and taking her in his arms held her tightly against him. “My Mary, never be angry with me. I’m a selfish fool wanting only to keep you safe and with me, and you are right, I am slow to believe what I cannot see.” He lifted her face and smiled into her gray eyes. “We will go, Mary. Now dry your eyes, and have the maids pack your clothes, and plenty of warm ones. I’ll not have you catching a chill.”
Mary beamed up at him, her eyes trusting, as she pressed a kiss on his mouth and then quickly slipped from his embrace as his arms tightened to hold her closer.
They traveled through the night and early morning, stopping only once for a change of horses and a quick breakfast, Mary refusing to eat, but gratefully accepting a cup of tea. At her insistent urging they continued on within minutes. Mary stared out the windows as dawn lightened the skies and revealed the countryside passing by, her eyes unseeing as she stared into her own mind, trying to see more.
It was mid-morning when they finally drove by the gatehouse of Camareigh. Entering the large hall unannounced, Mary headed for the stairs, but was halted by the butler who was descending them, his face showing surprise as he saw her swiftly climbing toward him, her husband close behind.
“Lady Mary,” he stuttered. “I’m afraid—”
“Where is Sabrina? She is here, isn’t she?” Mary interrupted him frantically.
Mason drew himself up with dignity. “I believe her grace has left Camareigh.”
“Oh, God,” Mary whispered faintly. Terence quickly put a supporting arm about her waist as she swayed. “Come on, dear, you’d better sit down. You get some tea and toast,” he barked the order at the butler, who after a stunned look followed his instructions.
Leaning back against the damask chair Mary took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Terence hovered nearby and as the door opened to admit the butler and a footman carrying a tea tray she demanded, “Where is the duke? Please tell him we are here and must see him immediately.”
“I am afraid that his grace is not in residence at the moment.”
Mary glanced to Terence helplessly, her fears evident on her face. “Is Lord Faver gone too?” she asked hesitantly, dreading the answer.
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes, he is,” he confided, the distress on Lady Mary’s face finally breaking through his reserve. After all, she was her grace’s sister. “It is most peculiar. The young lord disappeared yesterday and upon discovering this, her grace seemed greatly disturbed and ordered her carriage. Apparently Lord Faver took a public coach north, but where I cannot tell you, although her grace seemed to have an idea of his destination,” he informed them helpfully. “To be frank, if I may, we were in quite a quandary on what course of action to pursue as her grace left no instructions for us to follow,” he concluded, a look of relief on his face as he disclosed his burden to someone of authority.
“What of Rhea?” Mary aske
d suddenly as she remembered the child.
The butler permitted himself a smile. “The young lady is quite safe in the nursery with a wet nurse and nanny in attendance.”
“Thank God. I’ll just go up and see her,” Mary told Terence as she got slowly to her feet, her tiredness beginning to show.
“All right, dear, and why don’t you see if you can get a little rest. There is nothing more we can do right now,” Terence advised, then turning to the butler requested paper and pen. “I wish to send a message. The duke is in London, is he not?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Mason answered, worry beginning to show on his stern features.
Mary entered the nursery quietly. The nanny was sewing while she sat close to the cradle. At sight of Mary she smiled in relief as she recognized her grace’s sister. Coming close to the cradle Mary gazed down on the small, sleeping baby. Golden curls covered the little head and her cheeks were pink and healthy. Mary put out a forefinger and touched the child’s tiny, perfectly formed finger with its miniature nail.
“So beautifully fragile and perfect,” she murmured.
“I’ve never seen such a pretty little mite in all of my days of caring for little ones,” the nanny confessed.
Mary looked at her penetratingly, liking what she saw in the friendly face. “She is precious. Look after her carefully, for she means everything to Sabrina.”
“Her grace was in here yesterday morning, her eyes red from crying and I knew she hated to leave little Rhea,” the nanny said sadly.
“Did she give you any idea how long she’d be gone?” Mary asked quickly.
But the nanny shook her head. “She just tells me to take good care of her little girl, that’s all.”
Mary sighed, and with a last glance at the sleeping child leaned over and kissed her soft cheek lightly.
She found Terence eating hungrily from a tray when she returned, and accepted a cup of freshly steaming tea.
“You saw the child?” he asked, knowing the answer by the soft look in her eyes.
“Yes, and Terence, she is the sweetest thing in the world. She looks like a little angel. I shall be a very doting aunt.”
“I look forward to our child, Mary,” Terence spoke quietly.
Mary smiled, basking in his love. “I know, so do I, and our child shall be the most precious to us, to me,” she told him, “because he is yours.”
Taking her hand he held it enclosed in his while they waited, neither saying much until he felt Mary’s head fall against his shoulder and heard her deep, even breathing. With a contented smile he rested his chin on the top of her red curls and closed his own eyes—just for a moment to rest them, he reassured himself.
***
Lucien hadn’t arrived by evening, even though the letter Terence had written and sent earlier in the day would have reached London by afternoon. Terence persuaded Mary to go to bed, and finally as he heard the clock chime twelve times he gave up his vigil and retired to their bedchamber.
It was still dark when Terence was rudely awakened by voices. Being a light sleeper he had lit a candle and was sitting up in bed when the door of their bedchamber was thrown open and the Duke of Camareigh came stalking in, his face lined with worry and fatigue as he stared down at Terence and a sleepy-eyed Mary, no apology on his face for his abrupt entrance.
“What the devil is this?” he demanded angrily as he withdrew Terence’s letter from his waistcoat pocket and waved it in front of them. “And what in blazes is going on around here? I’ve been to Sabrina’s room, but it’s empty. Where is she? I can’t believe she would go off and leave Rhea.”
Mary stared in amazement at the duke’s haggard appearance. His golden hair looked as though he’d raked his hands through it numerous times, and his face was thinner and had a strained look to it causing his scar to stand out vividly.
“Sabrina is in danger,” Mary blurted out, unable to control herself despite Terence’s look of warning. “She and Richard have left Camareigh and gone to Scotland.”
“Scotland?” Lucien repeated, his eyes dazed-looking as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped. “Why?”
Mary shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know why, I only know that they are in horrible danger.”
Lucien looked at her silently, then at Terence, and getting to his feet came to a decision. “Thank you for telling me. I will of course go after them.”
“Listen, you don’t even know where to look. I do,” Terence offered, climbing from bed. “I’ll go with you, Lucien, you will need me,” he told him abruptly.
Lucien nodded his head. “Thanks, Terence, you might as well be in on the final scene with Sabrina, since you were there at the beginning. Maybe she will listen to you,” Lucien said with a cynical twist to his lips. “I’ll have my best horses saddled and we will get an early start in the morning. It will be quicker traveling on horseback than by coach, and as an old campaigner you shouldn’t mind a couple of nights under the stars, or a few hours in the saddle.”
Lucien strode to the door, but before he left the room he turned. “My apologies for disturbing you,” he said and with a casual nod of his head left the room.
Terence stared at the closed door thoughtfully, and lying back down he took Mary in his arms and murmured, “There goes a very troubled man.”
What beck’ning ghost, along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
—Alexander Pope
Chapter 15
Sabrina overtook Richard just inside the Scottish border when her coach pulled into an inn courtyard and found the big black, nail-studded stagecoach just unloading its half a dozen or more passengers. She watched, disappointment marring her features as the passengers left the coach and Richard was not among the group, and was about to turn away when she suddenly caught a movement on the top of the coach and saw a red head appear amongst the stack of luggage piled high. Richard scampered across the top and was given a hand down by the guard who’d ridden beside the coachman on the narrow boot.
Sabrina left her coach and followed Richard into the inn, looking around the large room of milling people until she spotted his short figure in the corner. He was standing forlornly by himself, his eyes lingering on the food being served the paying customers at a long table before a crackling fire.
He shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins as a tray loaded with roast duck, meat pies, eggs, and tarts passed in front of him, the mouth-watering aroma drifting tantalizingly under his nose. He hunched his shoulders in dejection as he counted the small pile of coins and put them regretfully back into his pocket.
Sabrina moved into the room and quietly approached Richard, the busy chatter of the dining guests drowning out any sound the rustle of her skirts made. “Richard,” Sabrina spoke softly.
Richard’s red head jerked around and his eyes grew round behind his eyeglasses as he stared up at Sabrina as if seeing a ghost. “Rina?” he gasped, then hugged her tightly as he read the relieved smile in her eyes. “Oh, Rina, you always show up when I need you. I was wishing so badly you were here with me,” he admitted chokingly, his face pressed against her shoulder thankfully.
“Are you hungry?” she asked as he drew back and bravely controlled the trembling of his lower lip.
“I could eat a coach full of that baked pudding,” he answered eagerly, his dejection forgotten now that Sabrina was there to take charge.
She hired a private room and watched in amusement as Richard helped himself to a third portion of apple and orange pudding, his eyes bright as he complacently spooned the dessert into his mouth. Sabrina pushed her plate aside and took a sip of wine as she decided what to say. She had been so relieved to find Richard that she’d hesitated in voicing the anger that had been caused by her fear for him.
“You pulled a very foolish act by running
off without a word to me. How do you think I felt, Richard, when one of the grooms told me you’d sneaked off in the night and then caught a coach for Scotland?” Sabrina asked him quietly, yet with a firm note of displeasure in her voice. “Didn’t you stop to think how worried I’d be? You knew I would not allow you to go, so you defied me by running away instead.”
Richard hung his head as she reprimanded him, his cheeks fiery with chagrin. He finally raised his head as two big tears rolled down his face. “I really didn’t think, Rina. I was only doing it for us. Don’t be mad at me, please,” he begged, getting up and coming to stand beside her chair, his fingers pulling nervously at the lace of her sleeve.
Sabrina put an arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “I’m sorry I had to scold you, but you had to know what I felt like when you disappeared. You have to think of other people too, Dickie.”
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