A Heart's Treasure

by Teresa DesJardien

Penelope turned a little pink, but then she stuck out her tongue at him—and the moment seemed to break the residual resentment, for brother and sister actually smiled at each other. Oh good, they’re making amends.

  “Look for rocks shaped like anything in the tale. I’ve heard many rocks or hills are named for local tales,” Genevieve suggested, turning to cross the bridge.

  She peered into the water below, around at the banks of the river, and up at the craggy hills around them, looking for anything that might resemble a cow or a dog or an old woman.

  It was Xavier who found it, by walking past a rise on the riverbank to the hidden setting beyond. He glanced at a man who reclined against a tree near the bank, a living man he slowly realized he recognized in some manner, and around whom lay four hounds. Two were black, one was brindled, and the fourth was gray, with plenty of aged white around his muzzle. The fellow sat chewing on a grass stalk, a fishing pole propped at his side, until one of the dogs sat up and another barked, and he looked up to see Xavier walking toward him. He hastened to stand, the dogs coming to their feet as well. They stood still and stiff, and then the older dog began to ever so slightly wag his tail.

  “You’re Kenneth’s man. Opperman, is it?” Xavier said as the shorter man dusted his dark clothes with his hands. “The one who’s been planting clues and tokens for us?”

  “Yes, Lord Warfield, that I am.”

  “I find four dogs, not one.”

  Opperman grinned. “I meant to bring only the one, but the other three followed me down the drive from Brockmore. In the end, I called ‘em to come along, for company. But the dogs ain’t the answer to the clue.” He produced a playing card from his pocket: the king of spades.

  “Ah,” Xavier said, nodding as he took it. :Representing the king of death, the devil.”

  “That’s yours earned, then,” Opperman approved. “I hope the treasure hunt was as interesting as Master Kenneth wished it to be?”

  “Interesting, yes.” To the white muzzled dog, who was inching forward curiously, Xavier offered the back of his hand that it might be sniffed. “Who are you then, old boy? How shall I call you?”

  “This is Cymru, named for ancient Cumberland, you see? And these two dark fellows are Keswick and Penrith, and the lady there is Aspatria.”

  “Fine names.” Xavier smiled as the old dog licked his hand.

  “Hallooo!” came the cry, announcing that Xavier’s discovery had itself been discovered. Kenneth waved from the rise, turned to beckon the others, and strode toward the tree.

  “Have we kept you long in this field, Opperman?” he called as he approached. The dogs turned to him, poised for a moment quivering with excitement until Kenneth half bent toward them, whistling an invitation, and then they came bounding.

  “Only two days, Master Kenneth,” Opperman said as Kenneth tousled the head of each of his joyfully wagging and barking hounds, greeting them with obvious fondness. “I’d rather hoped I might have another day of nothing but fishing, sipping beer chilled in the river, and the company of dogs, but you’re welcome, for all it means my days of leisure are behind me. Do we go on to Brockmore now, Master Kenneth?”

  “Yes. It may grow dark before we reach it, but I’m familiar enough with the roads near the town of Carlisle, I feel safe to travel them even after nightfall. Did you give Lord Warfield his token?”

  “I did,” Opperman said even as Xavier held up the card.

  “Then let us be away. I’ve a mind to sleep in a familiar bed this night,” Kenneth said heartily, clucking to the dogs, who fell into step beside him with silly dog grins and lolling tongues.

  And I’ve a mind to be done with foolishness and leave with Nellie in the morning for London, Xavier thought with a sigh as he fell in step behind them.

  Chapter 22

  Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow;

  He who would search for pearls must dive below.

  —John Dryden,

  All for Love

  “To Kenneth and his treasure hunt,” Michael raised a toast as they sat, replete and content, around the long Brockmore dining table that night. Brockmore newly belonged to Kenneth and Laura’s father, Sir Roger, but it had been built a century and half ago, and was richly appointed. Michael’s toast was met with a cheer and a tipping of elegant cut glass goblets. “Now you should offer a toast,” he said to the lady at his left, Penelope.

  “To the end of the outward journey,” she said.

  Everyone raised their glasses, offered their noises of appreciation, and drank again. She turned expectantly to Kenneth on her left.

  Just then, a servant entered, bearing the lantern Kenneth had purchased in Coventry.

  “It’s refilled with oil, my lord,” the man informed him.

  “Very good. Leave it here, will you?” Kenneth stared at the lantern for a moment, searching for the words of his own toast. He lifted his glass. “To Brockmore’s clean linens and decent food.”

  This created a large buzz of agreement while Haddy murmured, “Much more than decent!” and then it was Laura’s turn. “We only had one incident with a broken coach wheel, which we survived quite intact. So, to the fortunate lasting health of this company of splendid persons.”

  “Here, here!”

  “To the winners of the treasure hunt,” Haddy’s turn came.

  Nods were given toward Michael and Summer. The prizes they were promised, a new fan and new snuffbox, would be acquired in London and awarded later.

  “To Little Riddles,” Summer proposed, and a few laughed, for she’d collected the most kisses of them all.

  The round of toasts came to Xavier next. He hesitated, then raised his glass. “To a very fine port.”

  The other two men nodded agreement toward their host, Kenneth.

  Lastly, it was Genevieve’s turn. She felt at a loss for words. This ought to be a carefree moment, but truth was she felt heartsore, aware of an ending, one that might never give her a second chance with a wounded friend. She said what she thought would sound well, but her voice caught on the words anyway. “To friends,” she managed to get out, realizing it wasn’t so much sadness that tainted her voice, but anger.

  No one seemed to notice her agitation, for the toast resulted in more calls of “Here! Here!” and a few “Huzzahs.”

  As he was seated near her, Genevieve heard Xavier murmur some halfhearted sound of agreement, and she turned to him, not lowering her glass until she caught his eye with her own. Only then did she allow the glass to come to her lips, as she continued to hold his regard over the edge of the glass as she sipped. Devil take the man and his tender feelings. She’d be his friend again, whether he thought she ought or not.

  * * *

  Xavier stared back at Genevieve, unnerved even though he met her glare. Did she think the barrier between them was all of his making?

  And, oh lord, was it possible she was right?

  He looked away, his mouth tightening in confusion and not a little misery. When he looked up again she was still watching him.

  “What do you want?” he whispered fiercely, so low he thought even she scarcely heard it.

  “Simple courtesy would do,” she hissed back.

  He sighed, and struggled to know what to say next, not least when he began to burn with shame. She paid him in the coin he’d earned, after all. She’d given him only the truth, in revealing her curiosity about his eye. Was it her fault if the truth was less than he would have it?

  She was right to be annoyed at him, of course. She’d done nothing wrong, yet he’d coldly given her the cut direct. It was his own inability to accept the world’s curiosity that stood in his way. He’d judged her, and harshly, and it was time to really understand that it was no fault but his own.

  Before, he’d told himself he must risk it all—but when the moment had come, he’d recoiled into his old pattern. He’d risked nothing. Gained nothing. He’d, again and always, hid behind fear disguised as righteousness.

  Yet, he saw wit
h a sudden, shocked insight, she put aside any insult or grievance she felt, and made this attempt to reach out to him once again.

  His heart began to thud powerfully in his chest, from a mix of self-recrimination and something softer yet more powerful. “Genevieve?”

  “Yes?” she pouted.

  He opened his mouth to speak, unsure just what the words would be, when Kenneth interrupted.

  “Xavier. Now we are all gathered and out of the way of the public, would you finally answer a question for me?”

  Xavier stared at the man, only slowly beginning to know what the question would be. Why, I could almost laugh at the timing…

  “I mean, the thing of it is, you never say, do you? Your eye, I mean. Oh, you tell stories, but you never truly say how you came by the original injury.”

  Xavier’s mouth twitched in tight amusement. He would say, he wanted to say…but he couldn’t. Not with any honor.

  The moment grew long, weighted, uncomfortable.

  “It was me,” Haddy growled.

  Kenneth spun to face him.

  Xavier started to speak, but Haddy held up a restraining hand. “No,” he said toward Xavier, voice harsh. He crumpled up his mouth, but then resignation stole over his features. “You’ve protected me long enough, Warfield.”

  He pitched to his feet in agitation, and rounded the circle of staring faces with a sharp gaze. “Xavier never says what really happened because he’s too much the gentlemen to always be casting the fact in my face. It was me who did it to him. With a sharp, pointed stick. We were lads. We were playing pirates, and I would have a sword. My mother told me to put the stick down. Xavier told me to watch out, but too late. I tripped. I stupidly tripped. I did it. I took his eye.” Haddy paused, taking a deep breath before he rushed on.“I gouged his eye. I gave him that scar. There! Now you know what happened. Beleaguer the man no longer.” He cast up his hands, then stormed from the room.

  Summer rose and went after her brother, causing Genevieve to think fleetingly that if Summer was a bit spoiled as Michael and Haddy would have them all believe, she also was loving toward those she held dear. That’s why we love her in return.

  “I’m sorry,” Kenneth breathed. “I never meant to—”

  “It’s all right,” Xavier said, staring at the floor. “It pains him to know he was the one who caused the accident. We’d long since agreed not to speak of it. Our parents agreed.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Haddy was only a lad, with no malice intended, of course. Why constantly have fingers pointed at him?”

  Kenneth was pale. “I always thought it was…was your father.” Xavier made a small, denying noise. “Or one of the blackguards at school, perhaps, like Tippet or Simpson.” Kenneth wiped a hand down his face. “Warfield, I offer my apology—”

  “Don’t offer it to me, but to Haddy,” Xavier said, but with no spite. “I’m sorry if this revelation adds to his feelings of blame.” He looked up from the floor then, directly at Genevieve. “It started as a small silence, but I see it couldn’t stay that way. We’re grown men now. It needed to come out. Only now can we truly put it behind us.” He reached up and touched fingers to the fabric over his left eye. “It’s only a scar and a patch, after all.”

  For once, the words were more truth than lie.

  Her widened eyes met his directly, and he tried not to retreat, not to hide anything from her. If she saw his attraction, or his regrets, or his longings, then so be it. She didn’t blink, or look away, and his heart went right on pounding painfully.

  “Terribly sorry,” Kenneth muttered again.

  Xavier shook his head, and gave Genevieve a fleeting smile before he looked to see all the others stared at him just as wide-eyed as she. Even Penelope, although of course she’d always known—and loyally kept the secret—of Haddy’s role.

  Michael stood, flustered for a moment, but then flashed a practiced smile. “Well. It appears the time for slumber has come,” he smoothed, a lift of his hand signaling the others to rise also. Kenneth stood, taking his lantern by the handle. He moved, placing it on a table near the door to his front salon.

  Genevieve walked over to stand directly before a slowly standing Xavier. “You protected Haddy. All this time.”

  He gave a tiny, reluctant nod, and came to the sudden conclusion that their locked gazes were unable to say any more without benefit of actual words. “Will you walk with me tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said simply, her eyes moist.

  Along with everyone else, they moved to the bottom of the stairs that led up to their readied rooms, and turned to her, a hand rising to brush back a dark lock that had fallen to her shoulder. “Good night, Genny,” he said softly. He was aware of fleeting glances from some of the others.

  “Good night, Xavier,” she answered, making his heart pound harder yet when, halfway up, she turned briefly to cast him one last shy smile.

  * * *

  Xavier sat in the library, a book near at hand but never opened, a single branch of candles on the table near his chair. He’d meant to light Kenneth’s lantern, but had found it missing from the table in the salon, settling for candles he’d found here in the library. He stared at the empty grate—even here in the wilds of northernmost England, no fire was needed tonight—not moving, deep in thought. He couldn’t sleep, didn’t wish to sleep unless it was to bring the morning nearer. In the morning, he and Genevieve would walk the estate, and he would hide from her no longer. He would tell her how very much he wished her to be a part of his life permanently, how he’d come to love her. He would kiss her, not fleetingly as he had only a few mornings ago over the breakfast table, but tenderly and in a manner that spoke louder than words. If she must see beneath his eye patch before she would have him, then see she would. That would be nothing compared to the happiness of years to come, if he was not wrong and if she felt for him what he felt for her.

  Tomorrow he’d know. Tomorrow was too far away, and too soon. His life would become the deepest, emptiest burden—or it would start anew in a way he yet wasn’t entirely sure he deserved.

  There were noises in the night. Lost to hopes, he paid no mind until it penetrated into his consciousness that a door had opened into the room wherein he sat. He turned in the chair, seeing a murky figure in the shadows of the doorway.

  “Xavier?” came Genevieve’s voice.

  He rose, crossing to her at once, sudden joy buoying his heart at the sound of his name on her lips. He gathered up her hands and pulled her toward the dim lighting of the candles. “Genny? You are still up?”

  She sat in the chair he’d just vacated, not removing her hands from where they still lay enfolded in his, as he sat on the footstool before her. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, a fact made manifest by the fact she yet wore her daytime gown.

  “Neither could I.”

  “Xavier?” she questioned again, then went on, her eyes downcast. “Am I wrong in thinking… Are we friends again?”

  “Yes,” he answered at once, ardently, squeezing her hands.

  “I’m so glad,” she breathed, her eyes rising to meet his.

  Their gazes locked in the dim light, silent messages flying between them. Relief. Pleasure. Renewed trust.

  He didn’t breathe, and didn’t feel the loss of it. All he knew was she leaned toward him, her eyes soft and shy but unwilling to leave his. He leaned toward her as well, guiding her closer by the pressure of his hands on hers. Closer and closer, so that their mouths were only three inches apart, then two, one, and then his heart somersaulted with elation as she allowed him to press his lips to hers. She didn’t recoil, didn’t cause the contact to be broken, but leaned further into him.

  The door opened again, with a bang as it bounced off the wall.

  It was Xavier who pulled away first, looking up, startled, not quite sure what had happened. It was only a moment more before he understood that Laura, in her nightrail and a wrapper, had invaded the moment, and that even so Genevieve had gone on kissing
him for a moment longer until it had been he who startled from the caress. He almost ignored Laura to lean forward and take another kiss from Genevieve’s lips, but the opportunity was lost when Laura stormed toward them.

  “I was looking everywhere for you,” she accused. “She’s gone!” Laura thrust a folded paper at Xavier.

  He held Genevieve’s one hand tightly yet as he stood and lifted his other hand to accept the paper. “Gone?” he echoed, wishing Laura would go away. Genevieve stood as well.

  “Penelope! She’s gone. This note is addressed to you. I didn’t read it, but I suspect she and Kenneth have eloped.”

  “What?” Xavier cried, flipping open the tri-folded paper with one hand to find a filled page of petite handwriting. A playing card fluttered from the folds, landing on the carpet at his feet: the queen of hearts.

  “We’re very near Gretna Green, you must know,” Laura said.

  Xavier read the note aloud. “‘My dear brother: it pains me to have fooled you this way, but you must be realizing at this moment that Kenneth and I had planned this entire treasure hunt for the sole purpose of eloping to Scotland without raising suspicions or casting doubt on our propriety as we traveled together. We wished nothing to mar our choice to wed. You may recall that after Papa denied my hand to Kenneth, I claimed I would elope with him. Although you thought I was merely raging against fate, you see now I only spoke the truth. The excessive heat of London, most fortuitously, gave us an excellent excuse. It’s but ten miles to Gretna Green from Brockmore, and I have little doubt we shall be married ere you find this note. Please, Xavier, wish us happy. We are most uncertain how we shall get on, as I rather suppose Papa will deny my dowry, and Kenneth’s papa will most probably cut him off entirely, but we are determined to live and love together nonetheless. We shall see you in a day or two, as we plan to return to London to confront our fathers with our news. Your loving sister, Penelope.’”

  He looked up, white around the mouth even in the dim candlelight. “When did you find this?” he demanded of Laura.

  “Just now. I heard horses and a carriage in the drive, and went to Penelope’s room to see who could be arriving, as she has a much better view of the drive than do I from my room. But, of course, no one was arriving at all. I saw Kenneth on the box, driving away. With Penelope not in her bed, let alone her room, and her wardrobe well raided, it didn’t take me long to jump to a conclusion. I was just coming for you when I found the note. You weren’t in your room, and I have now finally found you here,” she said, giving Genevieve a long look that said she was perfectly aware what she’d interrupted.