And there he was, dressed for mourning in his black silk coat and black cravat, bowing before her, picking up her hand and kissing it. His skin still showed signs of his slow recovery, and the lingering paleness seemed stark and jarring against the somber colors of grief. His near-black hair with its rich waves, a match for his garments, was almost close enough to touch. He looked up at her through the dark strands and for a moment everything else slipped away and all she could see were his eyes, like midnight pools.
Verbena fought the urge to snatch her hand back. His lips were warm, she felt his breath brush her skin. His hand under hers felt strong, capable, with power she wished she could depend on, a power that might easily turn against her family.
“How are your parents?” she asked. Such a common question, a standard, meaningless courtesy, but she really needed to know. Edeline had to be able to slip away. And she herself needed a moment to gather her scattered thoughts after that startling gesture. It was even harder to regain her composure with his ebony eyes fixed on her.
“They are as well as can be expected, thank you.” He finally let go of her hand.
“And how is Edeline?” She hoped he blamed her breathlessness on her injury.
Damon pulled the ladderback chair over close and seated himself, which worried her. She did not think she could hide all her thoughts with him so near. His face sobered, lines appearing that she had not seen before. “She is taking it hard. We are all thinking of going back to London. My father thinks my mother and the girls need to be occupied, rather than stay here with the memories. The family will leave with the guests.”
The girls. His sisters. Verbena had heard about them. “Is Edeline going along?”
He pulled back, surprise on his face. “Of course! Where else would she be?”
Verbena’s heart turned over. “Would it not be better for Edeline to stay here, where she has family?”
He scowled at her, the sad lines on his face becoming angry ones. “Here? You mean, in this house?”
“We are her family and this was her house before she wed,” Verbena said with asperity. “And there is no reason she should not be allowed to work. Won’t that help? Keep her mind busy?” Really, how did the rich take their mind off their troubles?
He shook his head, as if to a silly child. “She does not need to wear herself out. You don’t see her, hiding in the gazebo, weeping, wandering the grounds. No, London would be better.”
London would also send Edeline in the wrong direction, away from Aunt Mabel’s home and security. Money was going to be tight as it was. A longer journey and it might not happen. “This area has happy memories for her. Perhaps she is revisiting places where they fell in love.”
He folded his arms and frowned down at her. Even seated, he was large, and worse, he had a truly impressive frown. “Brooding is not good, surely you can see that. Besides, Mother needs her around. Edeline is the last link to Andrew.”
The last link to Andrew? He could not have heard that from his mother! “Don’t Edeline’s feelings matter? If she needs to wander, does she not have the right? I would certainly not forbid her from time to herself.”
The frown remained. “Of course, she does, and I’m not forbidding her time alone. I am just saying she and Mother can comfort each other.”
Verbena had to look away, for fear he would see her irritation. “I never thought of a motherin-law as being closer than one’s birth family.”
“You have never been married. When two women share love for the same man, it can bind them together.”
“Or they can compete over him.” She could not stop her runaway tongue, and the words were out.
Damon gave her a funny look. “You have a sour view of marriage.” His dark eyes narrowed. “I hope when you marry, you will find it in your heart to accept your motherin-law. After all, she loved your husband first.”
She had to lighten the mood, before they really started to fight. “I have no prospects. I come with a family – it tends to drive men away.”
The frown faded. “You have not met the right man until now. I agree your father is a dampening influence, but he can be managed. It just takes a firm hand, someone who has seen worse than him.” The corner of his mouth twitched. A smile? That could hardly be.
She could not manage a smile in return, and did not even try. “Where will I find someone like that in a small village like this?” Verbena realized she was plucking at her gown. Unlike Damon, she had wasted no time changing her garment. This one was old, it would not stand up to her nervous fingers. She forced them still.
The smile became real, spreading to his eyes, dancing with humor. “You never know – he might be closer than you think.”
She could not imagine who he had in mind. Perhaps there were male guests at Thernwood whose parents would not object to a daughter-in-law with siblings, a drunken father and no dowry. She already knew what the Therns’ feelings were on that matter.
He leaned back, and the smile faded. “Now, you and I both know where you were today. I saw you leaving the church. Did Mrs. Downs know where you were going?”
Verbena felt her eyes narrow. “You must not blame her!”
“No? And why not?” He was still, his dark eyes hiding some secret even while he seemed to be searching for hers.
Why had she not thought someone else would get in trouble? Of course everyone – meaning Damon – must understand. “She had nothing to do with my going. The decision was all mine. And I’m nearly well. It is just a bruise, after all.”
“Who told you that? We can’t be certain, of course, no one can, but the doctor told me he thought you might have cracked a rib. I hired help for you so you could heal, not risk your health further.” His voice had grown tighter as he spoke, as though leashed by force of will.
A cracked rib? “I did not know that, did I?” She would not apologize for attending the funeral. “Edeline is my sister, who would dare keep me from going?”
He blew out a breath, and his head drooped. “I would not have prevented you. In fact, I would have sent a carriage for you rather than have you walk all that way.”
“All what way? A walk to the church, that I make every Sunday?“ Verbena’s heart thumped in her chest so hard she feared he would hear it. His nearness, his persistence, and the need to talk to her sister turned into a boiling brew in her chest. For a moment she thought she might get sick.
She wanted to trust him so much! The worry about her sister’s flight, about when or even if it would happen, had been growing ever since Edeline left the house. Verbena watched his face. The fixed doors, a housekeeper, an offer, albeit late, for a carriage ride to the funeral. Could she ask him for one small favor? “Will you please let Edeline know that I did go to the funeral today?” She could only hope her sister understood what she dared not send through a messenger. “I do not want her to think she was there alone.”
“She was not alone.” The smile vanished from mouth and eyes. “She had all of us. We grieved with her.”
Verbena decided not to argue that. More and more, she suspected he did not see what his mother did to Edeline. “But she did not have me. I’m her sister, and she did not even know I came.”
He looked thoughtful. “I think you are right, she should know. Yes, I will tell her.”
“When she is alone,” Verbena insisted. “With no one around.” Aloneness would be easier on her sister, keep the mockers from mocking and the eavesdroppers from hearing.
“Oh, come, Verbena. If I did not know better, I would think you believe she is ashamed of you.”
“Edeline is not ashamed of me! But I can’t say the same for the others who are there.”
“Our guests?” His brows came down, and his eyes seemed to look into the distance – or the past, memories of words he had heard.
“I know our family does not measure up to your guests. It is better for her if no one hears our name. I don’t want her to be questioned. I don’t want to leave her open to scrutiny
or talking behind her back. More than is already done, that is.” And perhaps Edeline would think of some way to get word back so Verbena would know whether or not their escape plan was still in force. “Don’t tell me you have not heard the way they think of us. I won’t believe you. I know what our own village says about Father, and they remember when things were different. Please, let Edeline be spared that.”
“Fine.” He slapped his black gloves against his leg, a soft snap of sound.
Verbena looked at him and wished she could see into his mind. Into his heart. He had given his word, but he was a Thern and she had to remember that. He did not seem The Enemy, not like the rest of his family, but a wrong word would be all it might take. Someone could well guess their secret and the child would be lost as Andrew’s family swallowed it up, drilling into it the haughty stiffness that was their signature.
Giving it a life of wealth and privilege that Edeline had determined was its downfall. How much did happiness cost and what was its currency? Verbena knew full well the cost of poverty and it was very expensive indeed.
But it was Edeline’s child, and Edeline’s decision. There was so little time for a rescue, and her hopes were fading. Verbena knew she had provided all the help and assurance that she could, particularly in the shape she was in, battered and weak yet.
The silence had grown long, she thought. He must have thought so as well. He gave a bow and took his leave.
Verbena watched him as long as she could. The door shut with a firm thump, and she winced. She may have just made things worse, but what else could she do?
CHAPTER 9
Damon slowed the horse as he neared the front door and saw the groom. With all the guests up from London for the funeral, the house had lost all semblance of privacy.
Verbena had been right about that, he could admit to himself. He would have to find a way to get Edeline out of the house. He knew how his father felt about the Barnes, and sadly could understand it in part. Mr. Barnes was a problem, an embarrassment to his whole family. The house servants would know of him. They had been hired from the village. Servants were not supposed to fraternize with the guests, but if someone asked a servant a direct question they expected to get a direct answer. Edeline was a major topic of conversation about the house now, most of it unfavorable. He had heard enough to know. Being so close to her home and family, secrets were hard to keep hidden. Edward’s sentiments might very well be echoed elsewhere.
“Sir? May I take your horse?” The groom spoke hesitantly. What a shame they had a title now. It had changed everything, from the demeanor of the servants to the behavior of the guests.
“Certainly.” He dismounted and tossed the reins to the man and stood at the bottom of the stairs, dreading going inside to find Edeline and pry her from the clutches of his mother and the guests.
The guests. Those awful guests who wanted pretty stories of the war, all cleaned up and brushed off, valor and excitement but no blood or gore, no stench of the dying. Parents of girls wanted to thrust their daughters at him. They probably would have chosen someone else – anyone else – when he was only a second son with the smaller portion of wealth and land and a crippled leg, but to be an Honorable, with a title, albeit a small one, and the sole heir to all his father’s wealth made him only too appealing.
Sole heir.
He started up the portico stairs slowly, hoping no one had seen him and would come bustling out to cheer him up. Mother, in particular, wanted him at her side all the time, introducing him to all the young daughters of people he was certain she had scarcely met before, young girls who simpered and giggled despite the solemnity in the house, and smiled at him across the dinner table.
Of course, all the table linens were now black, and so quickly dyed that it tended to come off on fingers, and occasionally faces.
No one came outside this time. Taking advantage of a precious few moments of peace, Damon walked over to the railing and stared across the lawn toward the trees that separated their massive spread from the Barnes’ small patch of land. He let the grief swamp him. He was tired of death, tired of grieving in public. He wanted time alone to mourn in peace.
A houseful of women panting after him, and the one woman he wanted seemed oblivious to his attempts at courtship. One walk, he had managed one walk with her, and that one far too short. He had rescued her and her brothers, paid for the doctor, hired a woman to do the hardest chores so she could rest, fixed her doors, found a ship for the father, now sailing away toward Africa and the Far East to collect fabrics and spices for the burgeoning colonies of America. Barnes would be out of their lives for months, and return with wages.
Compared to the twittering, giggling birds inside, she was the only one who was real. He had seen too much to settle for anything less. A wife whose only interests were shopping and clothes would be intolerable. He could see Verbena managing a house of servants easily. After her brothers and sisters, servants would be a relief. They could not talk back. She knew cooking and cleaning and sewing and illness and injury. She knew how to make do with nothing, he longed to drape her in pearls and velvet.
The large door behind him opened. He turned around. “Father.” He had known Andrew took after their father, but now, seeing him, the resemblance was a physical pain. Tall, slender, sandy brown hair tending toward blonde now with the distinguished traces of grey, and Andrew’s blue eyes. He himself favored their Welsh mother, with her dark hair and equally dark eyes. In spite of their differences, he and Andrew had always gotten along well, and he missed him so badly that each heartbeat was like the stab of a knife. Even when he was a continent away, he had always known Andrew was waiting for his infrequent letters, and that gave him endless comfort.
Edward Thern walked over to the railing and clutched the stone tightly, his knuckles going white. The two men stood, staring out over the land. Then his father sighed, deep and heartfelt. “I shall never get over missing Andrew.”
“Neither shall I,” Damon returned, surprised but moved at this unusual communication. “It seems I can’t get away from the memories.”
Edward turned to face him. “I can hardly wait to get to London. I intend to leave on the heels of the guests, before the grief becomes overwhelming for our women. Your mother and sisters are equally eager to go. There is too much sadness in this house, and memories. London is just the distraction we need.”
Verbena’s message pricked him. “You know Edeline’s sister is injured. Her father did the damage.”
“That man!” Edward’s lips curled in disdain. “Had I known what Barnes would turn out to be, I would never have allowed Andrew to marry into such a family. I would have locked him up to keep him away from them.” The last word curdled, as if the very speaking of it was spoiled.
Damon had seen parts of Mr. Barnes his father could only guess at, but it irked him to hear those children, and Verbena, lumped together with their father.
“They were not of our class, not ever,” Father went on, staring out across the spread of green in front of them. “Barnes had inherited land, although scarcely an impressive piece. He had both a flock and a small herd of cows, but he was dependent on the common land for grazing. Our land, as I reminded Andrew again and again. He did not seem to understand the class divisions. I thought I had taught him better than that. And Andrew – ” an involuntary smile tugged at his mouth. “Your brother, for all his dreaming ways, had a core of iron. He would have that woman and none other. Rather than cut him off, which would have caused unwelcome comment, I gave in.”
He shook his head in a soft gesture. “Thank goodness she was pretty, soft-spoken, well-mannered, which came as a surprise.” He blew out a hard breath, as if the air in his lungs was tainted. “If only she had contracted the fever and died instead of Andrew. It would spare us the possibility of that man,” he fairly spat the words, “showing up uninvited someday.”
Sudden, sickening rage welled up, burning through his bones, making his hands tingle. Damon glared at
his father. “I can’t believe I heard that. I have seen people die of fever, of bullets, of sword cuts, of knife wounds, of festering infection – shall I continue? I would never wish death on anyone!”
His father looked at him blankly for a moment, as if wondering what he had said that prompted the outburst. Finally he blinked. “Oh, don’t be absurd. You take everything so seriously. Come now, son. Don’t tell me if you could make a deal with God and trade your sister-in-law for your brother, you would turn that down? You scarcely know the girl. Be honest with me. Tell me you would rather have her in the family than him.”
The question came as a jolt. The rage washed away. “I don’t have that choice.” Now that the thought was there, he could not brush it aside. What would he do? Could he honestly say he would turn down the chance to have Andrew alive and well before him?
Damon looked at his father, looked at the white around his lips, the ashen skin, the high color on the cheeks left over from his emotions while everything else remained drained. Father was just speaking from grief, lancing the pain. Damon had seen and heard worse during the battles when friends died, alive one moment, dead the next, leaving the survivors to turn their grief – and guns – on anything that moved.
“She will remarry someday, and someone else can deal with the man.” Edward shook his head. “For right now, however, it is unfortunate that her family lives so close. So far no one has seen them, they have not had the audacity to come onto the property.”
Ah, but one of them had had enough audacity. One of them had been on the property, but that secret was safe.
Father looked over at him, his eyes suddenly shrewd. “You have been off in France. I know I must make allowances for war’s effect, but don’t think I have not noticed you have been spending time in that house, worrying over that family instead of your own. They are suffering from a situation of their own making. I give you the same warning I gave Andrew: the other children are not welcome.” His eyes narrowed into cold slits. “You will not be following in your brother’s steps. This house is full of young women who are suitable. You will pick from such as them. Is that understood?”
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