The Music Box

by Andrea Kane

  "You don't know that," Bryce reiterated. "As I said, this could very well be the aftermath of last night's visit. Don't assume it will turn into months of sleepwalking episodes."

  "I hope you're right, Bryce," Gaby answered softly, lashes lowered. "Because I refuse to allow Aunt Hermione to play the part of sentry. Thirteen years is a long time. Circumstances change. Physical strength alters, as well."

  "If you're implying I'm incapable of taking care of you, you're completely wrong," Hermione countered, raising her head in that regal way Bryce recalled and admired. "I'm surprised at you, Gaby. You, better than anyone, know how much my family means to me. When it comes to protecting you, I find renewed strength and unfailing determination. Besides," she added in a gentler tone, "we have Chaunce. He's every bit as spry as he used to be. The instant I alert him to the situation, he'll be a devoted ally. We'll divide the watch so that each of us gets enough sleep." A peppery spark lit her eyes. "Need I remind you that you don't exactly sleep a long night. Four hours, if we're lucky. It takes until well after midnight for you to settle your various pets down for slumber. And most of them are up before dawn, especially Screech, who welcomes each day with that incessant hammering against the oak outside your window."

  "That's true." A bit of the tension eased from Gaby's face.

  "I, on the other hand," Hermione continued, "have been retiring early these days. So Chaunce will take the midnight watch, then awaken me when he tires. If either of us feels fatigued, we can nap during the day. It's as simple as that." She leaned forward, her

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  expression reassuring. "And it won't be forever. You'll see, darling. In no time, this relapse will be behind you and life will resume as always."

  Gaby pressed her lips together and nodded. "I pray you're right."

  "I usually am." Hermione tilted back her head, assessing Bryce thoughtfully. "You'll be leaving at daybreak?"

  "Unless you need me-yes." Bryce paused, meeting his aunt's gaze and awaiting her response. One word, one gesture, that warned him she was physically or emotionally in need of his presence, and he would abandon his departure plans. He knew it. More importantly, Hermione knew it.

  An unreadable spark flickered in her eyes, then vanished. "We'll fare splendidly here, just as we always have. Don't worry about us, Bryce. Do what you must."

  Hermione's words nagged at him long after he returned to his chambers, long after he'd relinquished all thoughts of slumber and simply gone downstairs to await the fast-approaching dawn.

  Alone in the sitting room, Bryce jabbed his hands in his pockets, staring out the window where the first rays of sunlight were drizzling through its panes. "Do what you must," she'd said, giving him that inscrutable look of hers. It was almost as if she perceived his turmoil. Well, perhaps she did. After all, she'd been its onset, if not its cause.

  "Pardon me, sir, would you like your coffee served in here?" Chaunce inquired from the sitting room doorway.

  Bryce turned to see the butler waiting expectantly, a steaming silver tray in his hands. "Thank you, Chaunce. That would be greatly appreciated."

  "I assumed you'd want to be on your way early," Chaunce continued, crossing over and placing the tray on the table. "So I prepared a light breakfast for you.

  This way you needn't delay your journey a moment longer than necessary. Incidentally, shall I say your good-byes for you?"

  Halfway to the table, Bryce halted, scowling darkly at the butler. "No, Chaunce. I intend to say my own good-byes. And by the way, dispensing guilt doesn't become you. I'd suggest another tactic."

  "Tactic, sir?" Chaunce smoothed his mustache. "That wasn't a tactic, it was a suggestion. Although I must say I'm pleased that you intend to see the family before taking your leave."

  "I'll be back, Chaunce."

  "Of course you will, sir." The butler clasped his hands behind his back. "Incidentally, don't worry about Miss Gaby. Her ladyship and I will ensure her safety."

  "You know about Gabrielle's relapse? Hermione talked to you?"

  "She generally does, sir."

  Bryce's lips twitched. "Yes, I suppose she does." Amusement faded. "Chaunce, take care of them. Both of them."

  "You have no worries on that score, sir." A pause. "On that note, I'll leave you to your breakfast. I'll arrange for your carriage to be brought around and your bags loaded. By that time the family should be up and about. You can bid them farewell and be on your way."

  "Thank you, Chaunce."

  Three-quarters of an hour later Bryce stood beside his carriage, stunned by the swell of people hovering about him. Every resident of Nevon Manor-from serving girls to chambermaids, from footmen to kitchen staff had come to see him off.

  It was the most humbling display of affection he'd ever witnessed, much less been the recipient of.

  "Here, Mr. Lyndley." Cook came forward first, her plump face beaming as she handed him a picnic basket filled with cinnamon cakes and a fat jar of

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  raspberry jelly. "Take this. I hope there's enough to last you until you come back to us."

  "Thank you," Bryce murmured, staring down at the basket for a long minute before placing it carefully on the carriage floor. "That was very thoughtful."

  "I have something for you, too, Mr. Lyndley," Peter declared, leaning past his mother and handing Bryce a small parcel. "It's a leather-bound writing pad, small enough to fit in your pocket. This way you can jot down whatever legal points are on your mind without waiting to get back to your office." A grin. "I filled the first page with questions about the Elementary Education Act. I figured you could answer them whenever you have time and bring the answers with you when you come back."

  Bryce glanced from the painstakingly wrapped package to Peter's eager face. "It will be a privilege. And thank you. I don't know how you knew, but this is precisely what I needed."

  He had no time to recover before the unexpected showering of gifts continued. Mrs. Gordon gave him a fresh cloth so his shoes might remain spotless. Goodsmith gave him the very cap he'd tipped at Queen Victoria. Wilson gave him a new shovel that closely resembled his own, and the children collectively thrust a squirming yellow kitten at him, stammering that Sunburst had volunteered to keep Bryce company so that he wouldn't be lonely in London.

  By the time Chaunce bowed his good-bye-having added two bottles of Bryce's favorite brandy to the pile of gifts-and Hermione kissed his cheek, Bryce was more moved than he could describe.

  "Hurry home," Hermione instructed, squeezing his arm. "You'll be missed."

  Abruptly Bryce realized that one of Nevon Manor's residents was missing. "Where's Gaby?"

  Hermione shaded her eyes from the rapidly rising sun, squinting as she intently scanned the grounds. "Why, out there somewhere, I imagine. She hasn't

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  returned from her early morning romp with Crumpet." A delicate pause. "Can you wait? Or shall I give her a message?"

  "Neither." Bryce shook his head, scrutinizing the vast grounds about him. "I'll find her myself."

  Watching him stalk off, Hermione pursed her lips, gesturing for the staff to reenter the manor. "I wonder if he'll succeed in finding her," she murmured to Chaunce.

  "Oh, I rather expect he will." A sideways glance. "I don't suppose it's an accident that Miss Gaby isn't here."

  Hermione's expression remained utterly serene. "It's possible she's waiting for one of the children to fetch her. I might have inadvertently implied that I'd arrange for her to be summoned when it came time for Bryce's departure."

  "Ah. What a pity that it slipped your mind."

  "Yes. Isn't it."

  With that, she patted Chaunce's arm, gathered up her skirts, and made her way into the house.

  It took Bryce a quarter hour to locate the splotch of color that told him he'd found the person he sought.

  Gaby.

  Weaving his way through the line of trees that separated him from
his goal, he rounded the garden and walked over to the broad flat rock where Gaby sat, quietly stroking Crumpet's ears.

  She obviously heard his approach, because she swiveled about, a questioning look in her eyes. "Bryce. Is everything all right?"

  "Why wouldn't it be?" He studied her face, wondering why she'd chosen to avoid him this morning. Did she find good-byes difficult, or was she angry with him for what she perceived as desertion, not only of her but of Hermione and all of Nevon Manor's residents as well?

  He was about to find out.

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  "I merely came looking for you to say good-bye."

  "Is it time already?" Gaby surprised him by asking, her slender brows arching upward. "I had no idea. Lily was supposed to fetch me when your carriage was brought around."

  "Ah." Realizing she'd had every intention of seeing him off, Bryce relaxed. "That explains it. Lily probably couldn't get away. She had her hands full until now."

  An understanding grin. "Sunburst, yes. He is quite a handful. Not nearly as unruly as this scamp"Gaby shot Crumpet a reproving look, which he promptly ignored, continuing to nibble at the skirts of Gaby's yellow-and-white day dress-"nor as destructive. Sunburst is just an intelligent, inquisitive fellow with a quick step and an excess of curiosity." Gaby's grin turned impish. "Actually I thought he was a wise choice on the girls' part. All the kittens are wonderful, but Sunburst reminds me a great deal of you."

  "How so?"

  "Oh, many things. His mind is keen, but he would fare better if he occasionally gave that brilliant mind a rest. His heart is good, but he refuses to acknowledge that it's also tender. And he's still at the point where he believes that independence is ideal, for he hasn't yet learned that needing others is a virtue and a strength."

  Bryce sighed, staring out across the grounds. "Ah, Gaby, sometimes I wish I could view life as you do, if only for a little while. But each of us is born with certain qualities that, together with the sum total of our life experiences, make us the person we become. I know you hope to reform me, but that's not going to happen. First, I have no desire to change. Second, I'm thirty-one years old-hardly a tender enough age to undergo this major transformation you seek. Nonetheless, thank you for your kind intentions."

  "Please don't patronize me, Bryce," she replied, her grasp on Crumpet tightening as the rabbit made

  to dash off. "I don't want to reform you. You're a wonderful man. I only want to coax forth qualities you have yet to perceive." She paused, her shoulders tensing as she visibly grappled with whether or not to continue. Ultimately her candor overcame her caution, and her voice when she spoke was as quiet as it was intense-more intense than Bryce had ever heard it. "What's more, I have something to say to you, something I wish I'd said days ago."

  Feeling as taken aback as he did curious, Bryce urged, "Go on."

  Gaby rose, turning around and lifting her chin to meet Bryce's gaze. "To be blunt, I'm growing tired of your assessment of me. Yes, I love life-and animals and the miracles of each new day, but I'm not a frolicking child who's steeped in fairy tales and silly fantasies. I am, as you just put it, the sum total of my experiences, one of which was the most tragic I can imagine anyone enduring. But the way one copes with adversity is as significant to one's character as the adversity itself. Losing someone doesn't preclude caring again, abandonment doesn't preclude the forming of new ties. And nothing, nothing, should prevent someone from dreaming and hoping and, most of all, from loving. You think those are the qualities that define a child? To the contrary, barrister, I believe those are the qualities that define a person."

  Bryce felt a bit as if he'd been punched. Not because he found Gaby's argument logical, because it wasn't-given that it was based entirely in feeling rather than fact. No, his reaction was rooted in the fact that he'd never imagined this fiery side to her nature, a realization that only served to confirm her claim about his perception of her. She was right-or rather, partially right. He did view her as a childsometimes. Other times he viewed her as the most courageous woman he'd ever met. And now he was viewing her in a whole new light-strong-willed and

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  definite, as unyielding about her beliefs as he was about his. She was the most unique blend of contradictions he'd ever seen.

  "I know you. disagree," Gaby continued when the silence had stretched on for long minutes. "And I'm sorry about it-not for me but for you."

  "Gaby ..." he began, his thoughts still in turmoil.

  She gave a hard shake of her head, sending chestnut waves cascading down her back. "I think we've said enough. Besides, your carriage is waiting." She gathered Crumpet closer. "Have a safe trip. And again, thank you for everything you've done, for me and for Aunt Hermione. You've filled a void in her heart that has gnawed at her for three decades-a healing that will last long beyond your visit."

  "Stop it." Bryce heard his own sharp retort, feeling inexplicably angered by the finality in Gaby's tone. "I'm not vanishing. I'll be back."

  "I hope so. For Aunt Hermione. For me and everyone else at Nevon Manor. But most of all, Bryce, for you." Gaby studied him for an instant, that inherent wisdom vividly present in her cornflower-blue eyesas if she knew something about him that he didn't.

  Perhaps she did.

  Abruptly she stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss to his cheek. "Godspeed," she whispered, her fervor softening to gentleness. "Whatever answers you're seeking, I hope you find them."

  Bryce never knew what made him turn his head, whether it was a conscious decision or just an accident of fate. But turn it he did-just the few inches it took to bring his mouth close to hers.

  Their lips touched, brushed, touched again. Bryce saw Gaby's eyes widen in astonishment, felt his own rush of disbelief.

  He acted on pure instinct.

  Catching Gaby's face between his palms, he lowered his head, covering her mouth in a deep, binding

  kiss that was as shattering as it was brief, a heated melding that obliterated time, space, and reality.

  And which ended as quickly as it had begun.

  Bryce wasn't sure who broke away first. All he knew was that he was staring into Gaby's startled face, his own incredulity reflected in her eyes.

  "Gaby," he managed, "I'm sorry ... I-" He broke off, wondering what the hell to say, his mind for the first time utterly, totally blank.

  To his amazement, Gaby smiled, not a besotted smile but a radiant one. "I'm not. I've been trying for days to coax you into performing a single impulsive, irrational act. I believe I just succeeded." Her nod was the essence of satisfaction, her step light as she backed away from him, moving toward Crumpet's warren. "Perhaps Nevon Manor has worked its magic after all. Perhaps that's why you're reluctant to leave us, yet equally reluctant to remain. If so, I hope you find it impossible to stay away, that you're back before the magic has a chance to fade."

  Five miles away the worried figure prowling about Whitshire's pantry was hoping just the opposite.

  Why doesn't Bryce Lyndley leave? He's the last complication I need. And what the hell did Gabrielle remember the other night? Why was she so overwrought? What is it she knows? I've got to find out. Damn. How can this be happening? Now-after all these years. How?

  It can't. It won't.

  I won't let it.

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  Chapter Nine

  MIDMORNING SUNLIGHT WASHED THE HALLS OF NEVON

  Manor, the smell of fresh flowers wafting through the open windows, heralding spring and celebrating the wonders of life. Creating a beautifully deceptive illusion, a direct contrast to the adversity of the past seven days.

  Hermione made her way down the stairs, the lines of fatigue about her eyes no longer feigned but very real despite the long morning naps she'd been taking. Even Chaunce, who never wore physical evidence of his personal trials had begun looking a bit haggard. How could he not, given the arduous week they'd just endured? Much strain, little rest, and an overabun
dance of frustration.

  And it seemed to be getting worse, not better.

  Reaching the ground floor, Hermione peered down the hall, frowning when she saw that Chaunce was absent from his customary post at the entranceway door. True, he was exhausted. Lord knew he had reason to be. He'd kept vigil outside Gaby's chambers for seven nights now, halting her sleepwalking at

  tempts, gently awakening her, persuading her to go back to sleep-only to have the entire process repeat itself again hours later. Still, nothing, not even bodily depletion, would be enough to drag Chaunce from his station.

  Unless he was needed elsewhere.

  An anxious tremor ran through Hermione's fragile frame, and ignoring the protest of her aching muscles, she quickened her pace, determined to discover Chaunce's whereabouts-and Gaby's too, for that matter. Her niece wasn't in her chambers; Hermione had just come from there. Then again, that was hardly unusual for this time of day. By now Gaby was normally outside, playing with the children or gallivanting about with her pets.

  Still, with both Chaunce and Gaby absent ...

  Hermione neared the entranceway, fully intending to begin her search outdoors.

  Abruptly her eye was caught by a motion off to her right, just inside, though several yards askew of the towering wooden doors of Nevon Manor. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was Bowrick, perched on a chair near where he perceived the entranceway to be, muttering under his breath and frantically polishing his spectacles.

  "Bowrick," Hermione called to him as she approached, "where is Chaunce?"

  The elderly footman shoved his spectacles back on his nose and jumped to his feet, blinking in the direction from which his ear told him Lady Nevon was approaching. "Chaunce had to tend to somethin' outdoors, m'lady," he said to a potted plant that stood next to Hermione. "He asked me to assume his post till he returned. I was just makin' sure my spectacles were really clean so I wouldn't mistake one visitor for another. I wanna do as good a job as Chaunce, make him proud."