“Yes.”
A silence fell between them. Morgan cursed Cosmina and her practicality that had driven him to seek out his brother in the first place. “What are you going to do after you tell Adriana you love her?” she had asked—damn her.
He hadn’t had an answer. He knew he had to go to this Stonehenge, and that there he would probably attain his destiny whatever that was, but beyond that he hadn’t really thought of what he was going to do with his life. He wanted to do good for society, but that, he was certain would be tied up with his destiny.
But Cosmina had been right. He needed to have some place more permanent to live than Mrs. Lunden’s boarding house. He certainly couldn’t bring Adriana there. He knew he wanted to marry her, but again, if he did so, he would need to find some way of supporting her, and himself.
It was all very disconcerting having to think of such things. He’d never had to before. So here he was, in front of his brother, the head of his family. If anyone would know what Morgan could do, it would be Vallentyn. Once he had this settled, he would be able to turn his attention to his destiny, but not until then. Adriana had to come first.
Morgan swallowed hard, forcing down his pride and said, “I’m in a bit of a fix.”
“Oh? Anything I can do to help?” Vallentyn asked, putting down his drink and focusing his full attention on Morgan.
“Well, er, I was hoping you would know...” Morgan paused, and wished he’d accepted that drink. He took another breath and started again. “I’d like to marry.”
“Really? Why, that’s wonderful! I didn’t know you knew any young ladies. Is this someone you met here, in London?”
“Er, well, no, actually. It is... well,” Morgan took a deep breath. It would be easier if he just got on with it and said it, he thought to himself. Right. He took another breath and said, “Actually, it is Adriana Hayden.”
The smile on Vallentyn’s face froze. For a full minute he sat there looking at Morgan. “You do know that Mother wanted her to marry me?”
“Yes. I know. But I love her. And... and I have very good reason to believe she loves me as well. So I... I want to ask her to marry me, but I, er, don’t have anywhere to live. I’m staying at a guest house right now, but I can’t stay there forever, and I would need a way to support her, and myself. So, I was wondering...” Morgan finally ran out of breath and nerve. He swallowed again and then got up to help himself to the brandy.
Vallentyn just sat there quietly. Steepling his fingers, he tapped his two forefingers together, clearly thinking this over.
Morgan drank down half a glass of brandy and nearly choked on it. He wasn’t used to spirits.
“Mother doesn’t know about this, does she?”
“No!” he said, a little too vehemently. He then added, more calmly, “Although, she does know that Adriana and I have met.”
Suddenly Vallentyn stood up and took a step toward Morgan so quickly that he was worried for a moment that his brother was going to attack him for stealing his fiancé Morgan took a few quick steps back, but Vallentyn went straight to the bottles and poured another drink for himself.
After drinking down nearly a whole glass, he said, “I would help you, really I would. But if I did, and then Mother found out... well...”
“I’ll protect you from her. Don’t worry about that.”
Vallentyn stopped, his drink raised halfway to his lips, and just looked at him. “You can do that?” he asked, lowering his drink again. “You can protect me? Er, stop her?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, most definitely. I’m probably much stronger than her now, although I haven’t actually tried out my powers to see just how strong they are. But the last time we met, I was able to stop her rather easily.”
“But you don’t have any powers to speak of,” Vallentyn scoffed, taking a sip from his drink and sitting down again.
Inside of Morgan, all his childhood feelings of inadequacy fought with a new–found anger that he would be dismissed so easily. Pushing aside both, Morgan stood in front of his brother.
Vallentyn looked up, a shadow of uncertainty already clouding his eyes.
“I am stronger than Mother. Do you not believe me? Do I need to prove myself to you?”
“How can you?” he paused and shifted his eyes around the room. Morgan turned, too, to see if they were being observed. The room was still mostly empty except for another group of men at the other end of the room.
“Listen, Morgan,” his brother continued, “I appreciate the fact that you’ve fallen in love with Miss Hayden, really I do. She is a beautiful girl. But it is simply too dangerous from where I’m sitting...”
“You will help me,” Morgan said, infusing his voice with magic. “You have the power to help me, and you will. I don’t need to prove myself to you.” He paused and let the magic fall away. “I am above doing parlor tricks, Vallentyn.”
His brother’s jaw dropped open, but he quickly caught it and closed his mouth again. “You... you really are powerful now. I could feel that. I could hear it. You put a suggestion into my mind, just like Mother does.”
“I’m sorry,” Morgan began, but his brother interrupted him. “No, no, it’s quite all right. I don’t mind. I mean, it wasn’t a bad suggestion. It was what I had wanted to do anyway, but still...” A note of awe crept into his voice. “Still, I’m impressed. You truly have become quite powerful, but can you truly stop Mother?” he asked.
“I have before, and I can do so again,” Morgan reassured him once again.
Vallentyn looked up at him, clearly lost in indecision for a moment. Finally, he got up and went to the table that held their drinks. He opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper, a pen and ink and sat down again.
Using the small side table next to his chair as a desk, he began to write.
“This is a note to the steward at Stoneside, and I’ll write another to my solicitor informing him of what I’m doing.” He stopped speaking so as to concentrate on his letter.
Morgan finished his drink as he sat quietly while his brother wrote. When the letter was finished, Vallentyn folded it and handed it to Morgan.
“If you give this to Mr. Black, he is the steward there, he will teach you all you need to know about running the estate. It’s not so very difficult. I’m sure you’ll pick it up quickly.”
Morgan took the note and asked, “So, I’m to run the estate for you? This Mr. Black won’t be upset that I’m taking over his position?”
“What? No, oh, no!” Vallentyn began to laugh. “You’re not taking over Black’s position. He’ll stay on, unless you’d like to replace him with your own man, of course. No, the estate is yours.”
“Mine? The entire thing? You’re just giving an estate to me?” Morgan was shocked.
“No. It is yours. It has been ever since our father died. I’ve just been caring for it since, well, you were only five at the time, and then there was all that nastiness with Mother. When you were old enough she had you confined to the forest and well... But I’m sure you’ll find everything in order. The money the estate earned has been kept in a separate account for you—aside from what was needed to keep the estate running, you know, maintain the house and a skeleton staff. Everything’s on the up and up, I assure you.”
Morgan swallowed hard. “I own an estate? I have money in an account?” he repeated, dumbfounded. “A house and staff?”
“Yes, of course. What, you didn’t think our father would leave you destitute, did you? He knew Mother would never allow you to enter the army or the church. The estate has been well taken care of for you. It doesn’t earn an enormous living, but you won’t starve, and you’ll have a good roof over your head, and one that won’t leak, I promise you.”
“I don’t know what to say. This is much more than I expected,” Morgan finally said, as all this began to sink in.
“Well, don’t thank me. It’s Father who provided for you.”
“Yes. Well, thank you for taking care of it for me.”
“Thank you.” Morgan stood to go, the letter still clutched in his hand. But then he stopped, and turned back. He gave an embarrassed little laugh, then asked, “Er, where is the estate?”
“What? Oh!” Jonathan laughed. “It’s near Stonehenge, in Wiltshire.”
<><><>
With his brother’s letter tucked safely in his pocket, Morgan had one more important call he needed to make. He knew that now was the right time to face his mother.
He had no concerns about Adriana, he knew that she loved him and there was now nothing to stop him from taking her away from this horrendous life that she was living. He had the wherewithal to care for her as she should be, and the determination to force Lord Devaux to allow her to marry him.
He had tried every avenue to find the answer to where his powers had come from, and what his destiny was going to be. But there was still that one thing that had been missing when he’d let himself be enthralled by Adriana’s painting. There was something he needed that only he could get—but what was it?
All roads seemed to lead him to his mother. She was the only one who knew the answers he needed. And so he followed that path and walked through the city to Vallentyn House.
Somehow his mother wasn’t surprised to see him. In fact, she was practically purring when he was shown into the drawing room. She sat back like a satisfied cat after a big meal and practically licked her lips. “Morgan, I was wondering when you’d come by.”
“Good afternoon, Mother,” Morgan bowed formally.
She extended her arm, indicating that he be seated.
As he settled himself in the chair across from her, she said, “So, you’ve finally given up, have you? I knew it was only a matter of time before you realized that there was nothing for you here. When do you leave for Vallentyn?”
Morgan was silent for a moment wondering if he should let his mother continue on in her beautiful daydream. But no, that would be cruel, better to get right to the point, he decided.
He sat forward and gave his mother smile. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Mother. But I’m not here to tell you that I’m returning to Vallentyn. Quite the opposite. I’m looking forward to joining you at Stonehenge on the summer solstice.”
Lady Vallentyn’s face lost all trace of emotion for a moment, before it turned dark. “Who told you?” she hissed.
“No one needed to tell me. I know.” It was a lie, but he wasn’t about to tell his mother about Adriana’s painting. “Now, I want to know what I need to attain my destiny.” He inlaid strong magic into his voice. He was certain that she wouldn’t tell him unless she were compelled to do so. He just didn’t know how much magic would be necessary to get her to do what he wanted.
His mother’s eyes widened as she realized what he was doing. “Don’t even try,” she said unpleasantly. “Your magic wouldn’t work on me anyway.”
“Oh, I’m not too certain of that.”
She brushed his words aside with her hand. “All I know is that you need your full powers.”
“There is nothing else?”
“Not that I know of,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as if she didn’t care.
“Oh, come now, Mother, you don’t really expect me to believe...”
“The knowledge is closed to her,” a voice said from near the fireplace.
Morgan started. He was on his feet within seconds, looking for the source of the voice, but there was no one there. His mother was by his side faster than he had thought she could move.
“Who said that?” Morgan asked, his eyes darting everywhere a man could hide.
There was no answer right away.
“The chalice,” his mother whispered.
And indeed, the stone chalice, which always sat above his mother’s fireplace no matter where she was, was glowing. Morgan sensed his mother leave the room, but he didn’t take his eyes from the cup. He wasn’t certain he could.
Drawn to it, he moved closer. Slowly, carefully he lowered the cup from its special stand above the mantle.
A jolt of magic shot through his body as he touched the chalice. He almost dropped it. Never had he experienced anything like this! The power within the stone was incredible.
His mother was back by his side, panting. Where ever she had gone, she must have run. She touched his arm so that he lowered to chalice to a more comfortable height for her, and then she poured a clear liquid into the cup from a leather wine skin.
He would have said it was water, but he’d never smelled any water like this before. It smelled crisp and clear, like a bright summer’s day. The scent of fresh flowers, and the sweetness of fruit tickled his senses. It smelled like the most wonderful place on earth, someplace he’d never been before, and yet it was home. Yes, the liquid smelled like home—comfortable, happy, joyous even. Warm and, even when it was dark and rainy, beautiful. Morgan just closed his eyes and inhaled this lovely, comforting smell.
When he opened his eyes again, he was looking down into the chalice and looking back at him was the face of an old man. Moving his eyes from the length of the man’s white beard, Morgan saw a happy mouth surrounded by deep creases from too much smiling. His nose was long and thin and ever so slightly crooked. His deep blue eyes twinkled with good cheer and something else... wisdom, Morgan realized after a moment.
“Who are you?” Morgan whispered, not certain the man could hear him.
“I am Merlin,” the man answered, his voice sounding hollow as if it was coming through a long tunnel.
“Oh,” Lady Vallentyn breathed. She sounded as if she was going to cry, but, although her brows were drawn together, her eyes were clear.
“Merlin?”
“I do hope you have heard of me. I was wizard to the great king, Arthur, lover to Nimuë, and dear friend to the high priestess of Avalon after whom you are named, Morgan.”
Morgan’s hands began to tremble with the enormity of who he was speaking with. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible, his mind screamed out to him. The words nearly left his mouth, but he closed it tight against them. If this was the famed Merlin, he certainly didn’t want to offend the man.
“How... where...” Morgan stopped. He wasn’t able to form even a simple question!
Merlin chuckled. “Yes, yes, I’m certain you are quite shocked, but at least you haven’t dropped the chalice. When I visited the last Vallen to hold your position, she did. Nearly broke it too! Thank goodness I made it well.” The old man’s eyes became mere slits as he laughed.
“Maybe you had better put it down, Morgan,” his mother said, resting her trembling hand on his arm. She didn’t seem to be any steadier than he.
He nodded and together they moved to the sofa where his mother had been sitting earlier. Carefully, Morgan placed the chalice on the low table in front of them.
“Actually, what I’ve got to say won’t take a great deal of your time,” Merlin said after they had settled the cup safely on the table. “You were asking about your destiny, Morgan.”
“Yes. Do you know what it is? What I need to attain it?”
“Naturally. I’m not certain if you’d heard, but I am also a bit of a prophet.” The old man smiled up at them, but then became serious as his focus toward inward. “Listen carefully for this is the prophecy which I gave to your ancestor, Bridget, many, many years ago when she defeated the most powerful, the Vallen Nimuë. Within it you will find your answers.
The seventh child of the victor’s kin
Will lead the people away from sin
Guide them through the Wind and Fire
Through difficulties cold and dire
The Magic’s seventh child shall keep
The laws intact or penalties they’ll reap
To the Seventh of Seven shall be assigned
A task of soul, of will, of mind
To re–empower the world with love
; From east to west, below, above
Our work is to move progress along
Seventh of Seven will keep us strong.”
As the voice faded away, so too did Merlin’s image.
Morgan sat back thinking about this, trying to make sense of it. He was certain that it would make sense and it would tell him all that he needed to know. He just needed to think about and put the pieces together.
What he needed was Adriana.
Thirty Four
Thank you Mrs. MacAllister,” Adriana said, dismissing the housekeeper.
That would be the end of it. Three menus chosen for the three dinner parties Lord Devaux would host—which meant that Adriana would organize them, send out the invitations, and act as hostess at each. It was a lot of work, but it was what she did, what he expected of her, what she had always done ever since she was old enough.
She turned to Henrietta who was writing out the invitations to the first of the dinner parties. “Henrietta, you never did tell me what Mr. Vallentyn said when you gave him the painting.”
Actually, since Henrietta hadn’t volunteered the information the minute she’d returned, Adriana had been too nervous to ask. Now, she was desperate enough. She had to know.
But Henrietta was silent, clearly thinking over her answer. Finally, she took a deep breath, gave Adriana a nervous little smile and said, “You shouldn’t think about him, Adriana. He’s not right for you. Why don’t you go to more parties? There are so many eligible young men out there. You would have so much fun dancing and flirting. I just don’t see why you avoid all that.”
Adriana pulled her shawl closer around her body. “He didn’t say anything?”
Henrietta pursed her lips together and then shook her head. “Nothing of consequence.”
“Did he even open it? Look at the painting?” Adriana hated herself, but she had to know.
“He glanced at it and then set it aside, uninterested.”
“Oh.” She whispered, unable to make her voice do more than that. The pale world shimmered around her for a moment until she blinked her eyes clear. Perhaps Henrietta was right. Perhaps she should go to parties, if Lord Devaux ever allowed her that privilege.
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