"She'll know you crossed the barrier. She's always watching," the owl elaborated.
"Owls cannot talk," Lady Thornton said.
"You are correct. They do not in the other realm." The bird ruffled her feathers and tilted her head to watch Lady Thornton
"What do you mean by other realm?"
The owl clicked her beak. "A creature like you should know, unless..."
"That's enough, Tabitha." Mr. Thorn stepped up. The owl had said too much. He was not prepared to reveal everything to Lady Thornton just yet. This woman needed a delicate hand, he had learned. She had not seen him approach and she squeaked in alarm.
She rounded to face him and snapped her jaw shut. The owl, Tabitha, gave him a pointed look, if owls could do such a thing, and clicked her beak at him as well. She shifted on the branch, rocking from one foot to the other as if she wanted to say more but dared not in front of Ray. She turned her dark eyes back to Lady Thornton. "It was nice to meet you, missus." Then with the flutter of wings she was gone.
Lady Thornton stared after the owl with her mouth hanging open. Though Ray as a rule found humans unattractive, he had to admit Lady Thornton's naiveté had a certain appeal.
"That bird talked," she sputtered.
"It did," Ray said. He did not want to overwhelm her with too much information at once.
"Birds do not talk."
"Well, apparently they do." He smiled, and she turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide and full of fear. She glanced over her shoulder, considering fleeing, most likely.
She shook her head as if to shake off the very notion of talking birds. "I am sorry I must be going--" she started to say, but Ray Thorn ran around her, blocking her exit.
"I closed the gate; it's time we talked." He folded his arms over his chest.
"What are you talking about, what gate?"
"One of the gateways between your world and the Otherworld. That's not important right now. You've been avoiding me, Lady Thornton."
A complicated series of emotions flashed across her face, but she settled on indignation. "I have no obligation to you, sir. Please let me by."
He was impressed she had made an attempt to assert her authority. From what he had seen and knew of her, she was not the type to do so. She must be truly terrified. She tried to walk around him, but he shot his arm out to stop her once again.
"You cannot go until I release my spell. I guard the gate, and none pass without my permission."
"Saying a spell is real does not make it so, Mr. Thorn." She sidestepped him. He did not try to stop her; she had to learn.
She made it a few feet before she collided with the invisible barrier. She was unprepared for the collision and she hit her head against it. Sparks of light flared where she had touched it, and rippled outward like a rock being thrown into a pond. She stared at the spot for a few moments, her hands clutched at her side in fists.
"This is highly improper, Mr. Thorn. Please let me go," she said in a small voice, with her back turned to him.
A curious reaction, most humans shout, scream, or beg for their life. She pretends to be calm though I can smell her fear. Her fear was like a thick perfume clogging the air between them.
"Not until you hear what you must."
"I demand you let me leave!" She spun around and rushed at him, fist raised. He caught her hand easily and spun her so that she had her back pressed against his chest. He felt her heart hammering against him, and she shook with pent-up anger.
"I will let you go if you promise to listen," he whispered in her ear, and gooseflesh rose along her arm.
She nodded mutely in response.
"The other day, do you remember what we saw?"
"Nothing, it was a hearse for that poor woman Miss Smith."
"That is not true and you know it."
"I do not know what you're talking about." She squirmed in his grip and tried to break free. He released her and she fell to the ground. She landed on her knees and stared up at him with her wide frightened eyes.
"You saw Miss Smith postmortem, and it was not the first time, was it?"
She shook her head. "No, it's not true." She whimpered.
"She was following you, wasn't she?"
Tears were running down her face. "I never met Miss Smith, I swear. I should have ignored that song when I heard it and headed back inside. Col. Hawthorn says the Thorn Dwellers are real, but I thought to believe it would be madness."
So that is who told her about us. I should have known. The human has been causing problems for a long time. I will need to pay him a visit.
He decided to change tactics. "Then tell me, Lady Thornton, what of your irises? It was said no one grew Irises half as beautiful as yours, and when others asked your secret, you dared not tell them that you sang to the buds and they grew better because of it."
"Why are you asking me these things?"
He waved a hand, urging her to continue.
"I--have a knack for growing things. There is nothing special about it."
"What about Archibald? You had a rabbit when you lived in the country. One day you left the cage door open and your father's hounds found him. They ripped him to shreds. You held him and cried, and then he jumped up back to life as if nothing had happened. Do you remember that, Lady Thornton?"
She shook her head, her braid swinging back and forth. "He was stunned; the dogs only scared him."
She does not even question how I know these things because she is starting to make the connection, to see what she has avoided seeing for years.
"I want to leave. Please, you cannot keep me here," she gasped.
"Tell me first, Lady Thornton, have you ever seen something from the corner of your eye, for just an instant, but when you look more closely, it's just a boulder or an oddly shaped shrub? Well, what you thought you saw was real. There are strange things that you pretend not to see even when they're staring you in the face. You know it's true, and it's time you admit it aloud."
"What do you want me to say, Mr. Thorn? How did you find out about my illness? How could you have known?" She buried her face in her hands and wept.
This puzzled him. If she is ill, then she may not be the one I have sought. He crouched down beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. He opened up his second sight. He could see the current of life like hundreds of rivers running through her body; none were polluted with illness that he could see. "What illness?" he asked.
She laughed but it was half mad.
Did I choose wrong after all? It will be my head if she is not the one, he thought.
"Don't pretend you do not know, Mr. Thorn. You have been taunting it with me since the day we met. It is my madness. I have had hallucinations since I was a child, spoken to people who were not there. I spent time at the sanitarium, as a girl, and they cured me, or so I thought. Since I have come here, they've returned." She grabbed onto his shirt front and stared up at him with wild eyes. "Please, do not tell Edward. He will set me aside, I know it. I will do whatever you ask."
Ray sat back on his heels. She thinks she is mad. She will not be ready the way she is now. He swept his gaze over her tearstained face. There was a glimmer of light hidden deep beneath the tangled threads of her soul. The humans damaged her, but she can be repaired. She has to be the one. I have no other options left.
She cried as she rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped around her torso. Her shawl slipped down and revealed her pink flesh underneath. He was shocked by how fragile she seemed. She was not ready; his plans would need to be delayed.
"Lady Thornton, have you ever considered that you might not be mad, that these things might be real?"
She looked up at him with a tearstained face. There was so much hope and desperation in her expression he had to turn away. She is so very human.
"I wish that were true, Mr. Thorn, but these things are not real. How could they be?"
He wanted to laugh, but it might set her over the edge. He was getting too sentimental, tim
e was running out, and he could not be bothered to spare her feelings.
"Humans lie, Lady Thornton, and they hate what they cannot understand. That is how you came to be what you are. Why you deny yourself."
"There is nothing special about me; I am just a woman." Her breathing took on a ragged quality, and she scuttled back away from him. He could see it painted on her face--she was reliving some horrid memory from her past.
She is nearly too damaged. If I press her any further, she will break. With a sigh, Ray stood and walked over to Lady Thornton. She threw her hands up to shield her face. He touched his fingers to her temple and blew a bit of his magic onto her. Her eyes drooped and fell closed. Sleep for now, Lady Thornton, but soon you will be put to the test, and I only hope for your sake that you pass.
Chapter Ten
Edward leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his neck. The grandfather clock, nestled in an alcove between shelves, ticked away. He found he could not focus lately. He was weary and his mind wanted to wander. I should take Catherine to London. The season is still in swing. Generally he did not like the city, with its thick polluted air and the press of people on all sides. However, he kept having this nagging feeling that he should leave Thornwood Abbey for a while, leave the farms' maintenance to his estate manager, Mr. Wolfe. We could journey to Wales, or the seaside. Wouldn't it be a marvel to ride on the train?
The study door flew open and Edward nearly toppled out of his chair in surprise. Mr. Hobbs was red faced and panting. He leaned heavily on the door frame.
Edward rushed over to the elderly butler. He could not imagine what would incite the man to burst in on him like that. Edward said, "Hobbs, what is it, man?"
Mr. Hobbs shook his head. He took a deep breath and said, "Lady Thornton... collapsed."
Edward waited not a moment longer and ran out into the foyer. Mr. Thorn, his gardener, was holding Catherine in his arms. She was limp as a doll, her dark hair streaming behind her, having come loose from the braid she was wearing. Her skin looked paler than usual to the point it was near translucent. Her skirt was stained with grass and dirt.
"Mr. Thorn, what has happened here?" He looked up at the taller man.
"She was out by the south woods, taking her walk, when she started to scream. She fell over and began thrashing about. I ran over to her, but by the time I reached her, she had lost consciousness," he said with a level head that should be commended.
How could I have let this happen? I should have called Dr. Rowan the last time she had a fit. I'm a fool.
"Where should I take her, my lord?" the gardener asked.
Edward shook himself to clear his thoughts. "Follow me upstairs. We should lay her down in her bed."
Mr. Thorn hurried up the stairs after him. Edward kicked open Catherine's bedroom door and then threw back the blankets on her bed. Mr. Thorn lowered her down gently and arranged her hands on her chest. He took a step back as Edward covered her up to the chin. She was breathing, but it hardly lifted the coverlet. He dared not leave her side, lest she wake and ask for him, but he needed to call for the doctor. Mr. Thorn had not made his exit, and Edward turned to face him.
"Thank you for bringing her in. I owe you a debt, Mr. Thorn."
"It is my honor to be of service to you, Guardian of the Thorns." Mr. Thorn bowed. Edward puzzled over his phrasing when Mr. Thorn added, "Shall I call for Dr. Rowan?"
"Yes, thank you." He dismissed the gardener with a wave and turned his focus back upon Catherine. He reached for her hand and pressed it between his own. He stood vigil over her, watching for any sign of her stirring. Her sleep was peaceful. She seemed so small in the large bed with cream covers and large bedposts looming on all sides. He wanted to climb in bed and hold her so he could feel her heart beating. It was a selfish notion; if she was in a fragile condition, that might do more hurt than help.
I do not know what I would do without you, darling; you are my heart. We have had such a brief time together. Please wake up and tell me that you are well. Catherine's eyes fluttered and then opened. Edward exhaled a sigh of relief.
She looked around the room in a daze. Her eyes were unfocused and her fingers trembled in his. She rolled her head to the side, and when she saw Edward, a half smile pulled at her delicate lips.
"Darling, you collapsed while exercising," he said in a soothing tone.
Catherine closed her eyes and frowned. She inhaled sharply.
"Are you in pain?" Edward asked.
She gave a small shake of her head and then did not stir for a long time. He wondered if she had slipped under once more. Then she said in a small thin voice, "I think perhaps I am a bit overfatigued. I believe I had too much sun."
He knew he should not press her. She was obviously of ill health. He said instead, "Dr. Rowan will be here shortly to examine you; just rest for now."
She rolled over and away from him. It stung that she would dismiss him in that way. He was worried for her health, but he did not want to intrude if she wished to have privacy. She is not herself; it is not for me to take offense. He was concerned her illness was more serious than she had previously revealed. She seemed so full of vitality when we first married. How could she be declining with such speed? He made his way down the steps in a daze. He would not be able to rest until Dr. Rowan examined her. He went to search out the doctor himself. He reached the bottom of the steps as Dr. Rowan was entering. His cheeks were rosy, indicating he had hurried over. He handed his coat and jacket to Mr. Hobbs, who, after the initial shock of Catherine's collapse, had returned to his usual stoic persona.
Edward rushed to greet the doctor. "Dr. Rowan, thank you for coming so quickly. Catherine collapsed in the shrubbery during her morning exercise!"
"I heard. Your man came around with the carriage and we flew here. Where is she now?" he said, getting straight to business.
"Up this way, please follow me." He led the doctor up the stairs as he had done with Mr. Thorn not long ago. They stopped on the landing outside Catherine's room, and he knocked upon the door. "Catherine, Dr. Rowan is here; may he come in?"
There was a muffled response from inside and the doctor let himself in. Edward followed him in. Catherine sat up in bed as they entered. She looked terrified as her eyes ricocheted between the two of them.
Edward sat on the edge of the bed and took Catherine's hand again. She was stiff to the touch. He felt the tension radiating off her like a fire. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb to try to lend her some comfort. She curled her fingers in, grabbing the coverlet, making a fist.
"Lady Thornton, I hear you felt faint in the garden. I want to look you over, if you do not mind," Dr. Rowan said as he set his bag down at the edge of the bed and removed his stethoscope.
Catherine regarded the covers as she nodded.
"I'll need you to dress down to your underthings."
She looked up at him, frightened as a forest animal. Her large eyes were dominated by her pupils, which had dilated to nearly leave out the whites.
"Do not worry, darling, I will be right here," Edward said as he slid his hand up her arm to stroke her back.
She jerked her body away and turned her back to him. "I want to be alone with Dr. Rowan," Catherine whispered.
Edward retracted his hand, which he had momentarily left hanging in the air. Dr. Rowan pretended to be looking at his bag to give them privacy. "Catherine... what are you saying? I should be by your side, as your husband." He stood up and came around to the other side of the bed to face her.
"Please?" She looked up and tears were streaking her face.
He could not argue with her, not when she was in such a state. "Very well, but I shall not remove myself from the hall." He let himself out so the doctor could perform the examination.
Edward paced up and down the length of the halls and thought he would wear a hole in the carpet with his ceaseless movement. Mrs. Morgan came up and offered Edward tea, but he declined with a sharper tone than usual. She gave him a
bow from the waist and scuttled away. A few housemaids came around the corner, chatting as they carried the linens from the beds. They saw Edward and turned the other way, perhaps having seen the anger written on his face.
At last the door opened and Dr. Rowan stepped out; he appeared troubled.
"Dr. Rowan, how is she? Is it serious?" He wrung his hands together, dreading the news that accompanied such an expression.
The doctor forced a smile. The lines around his mouth were stretched taut as he attempted to keep it in place. "She is going to be fine, my friend. It is just a mild case of fatigue. Lady Thornton has gone through many changes as of late. She should avoid any strenuous activity for a few days, but she will be fine."
Edward exhaled in relief. "I thought because it was her second fit, there might be something wrong with her." Again the concerned looked flashed across his features. "Is there something you're not telling me?" Edward grabbed onto the other man's shoulders.
Dr. Rowan looked at where Edward's fingers dug into his shirt fabric. "There's nothing," he said crisply and shook off Edward's grip. "I will send you my bill." He tipped his head and made his exit.
Edward watched him go. Dr. Rowan's bald head bobbed up and down as he walked away. He hated to doubt his longtime friend, but he knew there was something he was not telling him. Turning back to the door, he raised his hand to the doorknob and even went so far as to push his shoulder against the door to enter. In the end, he could not bring himself to turn the knob. He felt as if there were miles between them. Damn her secrets. I should be comforting her right now. He thought of her stiff dismissal and her insistence that he not be present for the examination and took a step back. He stared at the patterns on the wooden door, the mixing of dark lines whirling together beneath the stain. I'll give her time alone; she must be embarrassed after a second attack. She will tell me when she is ready.
He returned to his study but found he could concentrate no better than before. I need a bit of fresh air and distance, I think. He rang for Griffin. While he waited for Griffin, he summoned Mrs. Morgan. The dour housekeeper entered the study a few moments later.
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