He started to reach toward her deaf ear, but pulled his hand back abruptly, muttering his favorite Gaelic curse.
Jenny felt as though he’d slapped her. He’d already made it clear that he no longer wanted any intimacy between them. Turning quickly away, she took a deep breath and resumed walking.
“Jenny, wait.” He caught up to her and matched her pace, walking at her left side. “Was it always this way? Being half deaf?”
She swallowed the burning sensation in the back of her throat. “It happened at school.”
“How? How does a child lose her hearing?”
“When a headmaster…” She shook her head. “It does not matter, Matthew. It happened a long time ago and I’ve adjusted. I should have mentioned it earlier, but I hardly think of it anymore.”
She stole a glance up at Matthew’s face, but he walked on with his brows furrowed low over his eyes, as though her partial deafness was the worst of their worries and their encounter with the destitute youths in the Lanes had been only a slight inconvenience. Jenny could not help but wonder what had changed since the night before, turning his mood so black.
It could be only one thing.
“Did you…Has your memory…Have you remembered?” she asked, dreading his reply.
He hesitated, his bearing stiff and forbidding. He kept his eyes on the street ahead as he answered. “I…Our predicament is the same as it was yesterday.”
But it wasn’t. He’d split them up, taking two hotel rooms. Jenny could not bring herself to ask him about that, not after all they’d shared this past week. If nothing had changed, Matthew would have told the hotel clerk the same story they’d used with the Moffats and Mrs. Welby—that they were a married couple.
Her heartache threatened to choke her. Her breath stuck fast in her chest, and she did not think she could bear another minute beside him, knowing that it was over between them. She glanced around, searching for a place to run, but none of the nearby streets was welcoming, and the Lanes were back the way they’d come.
“Come away now, lass.”
She felt him behind her, and he spoke so gently, Jenny could almost believe he’d come back to her.
Almost.
Finding her pendant meant little. She had to get away from him now, before her heart broke.
She turned to flee, hurrying down the street as fast as she could walk. Tears blurred her vision, but she managed to follow a southward path, turning into a street alongside a huge cathedral.
“Jenny!”
She could not bear to face him now, but when he caught her and took hold of her arm, she had no choice.
“We’ll find your locket.”
“I don’t care, Matthew. Harriet can have it.”
“I doona understand—”
“Then you’re a bigger fool than I!” She tried to yank her arm away, but he would not let her go.
“Jenny, we are so close.”
“To the thing that will make it possible for me to survive without you, Matthew. Are you so anxious to help me get it so that you can be free of me?”
“Jenny—”
“You are free already. Go. We have no promises between us. I don’t n-need you.”
She hated the way her voice quivered, and knew that anger would serve her far better than this pathetic, naïve misery. It would have been so much better if she’d refused his help after leaving the Gypsies. They would not be having this discussion now, and she might have arrived in Carlisle with her heart intact.
His eyes clouded with some emotion Jenny could not identify. She turned away from him, intending to go back to the hotel and collect her bag. She felt colder and emptier than she’d ever felt before.
He stopped her, speaking quietly, dangerously. “Do you no’ think I could give you enough gold to keep you for a year or more, lass?”
Jenny took a shaky breath.
“I want you to have your locket back…The one thing of value you’ve ever managed to keep.”
She supposed he thought he was being kind, but he could not possibly know how foolishly important she’d allowed him to become. “’Tis not your worry, Matthew. I can manage on my—”
“Come now, Jenny,” he said softly. “We’re nearly there. Allow me to help you.”
Resigned, she let him lead her to the top of Abbey Street, where they took a turn to go outside the city walls. They walked past the workhouse and came upon a dark brick, one-story building with a tall smokestack at the back. Carved into the stonework over the door was the name “Davenport Distilleries.” Jenny took a deep breath and went inside, aware that the moment she found Harriet and retrieved her locket, Matthew would feel free to take his leave.
There was no formal foyer inside the building, but the distillery itself rose up just inside the door. It was a large, high-ceilinged room with huge metal vats and a number of men doing some kind of work around them. A tall wooden staircase scaled one wall, its broad second-floor landing leading to two closed doors with frosted windows. One had the word “Manager” on it. The other read, “Accounts.” Matthew started up the stairs, and Jenny followed to the landing at the top. She waited beside Matthew as he knocked on the manager’s door.
A man in shirt sleeves with a thick mustache opened the door and demanded, “What is it?”
“I’m looking for one of your workers.”
“Who’s asking?” the fellow demanded.
“Matthew Keating. I’m looking for a man called Lambton. He’s…er, due to receive a reward.”
Jenny let the blatant lie pass, quickly understanding why he’d used such a ruse.
“A reward? For what?”
“That’s for me to tell Lambton.”
The manager turned and spoke to someone inside. “Jenkins, have we got a Lambton in our employ?”
“No. No Lambton,” was the brusque reply from within. “Never did have one, either.”
Jenny pushed forward. “Are you certain?” she asked, unsure whether to feel glum or elated. “His sister said he was a rum—that he made rum in Carlisle. Would there be any other—”
“Davenport’s the only rum distiller in town. And we don’t know of any Lambton.” Dismissing them, he started to close the door, but Jenny stopped him.
“I was told specifically that he was a rum dubber. He must be employed here.”
The man with the mustache looked horrified at first, then his face broke into a grin. “Rum dubber, you say? Then he’s a housebreaker, miss. He’s got nothing to do with any legitimate business, unless it’s to steal from them.”
Chapter 10
“Thank you, sir,” Matthew said, and guided Jenny down the stairs, hurrying when they heard a sudden loud crack and the splintering of wood on the steps.
“It’s coming apart, Jenny. Hurry!” Moving quickly, he scooped her up and lifted her, carrying her down the stairs faster than she could have run by herself.
Jenny was surprised the entire staircase did not collapse, but only a few balusters cracked and fell away from the stairs. She and Matthew made it all the way down to the main floor while the men in the office came out to see what had caused the disturbance.
“Are you all right?” called the man they’d just spoken to.
“Aye,” Matthew called up to him as he set Jenny down on her feet. “But you’d better have someone reinforce that staircase before you try to come down.”
They left the building, but Matthew turned to look at where they’d just been. His brow furrowed in puzzlement, as well it might. There was no earthly reason for those balusters to crack and split away from the staircase, yet Jenny knew she was responsible, since the morning had been one of the worst of her life. She had not seen the silver fibers this time, but she’d felt the tingling in her chest and seen the flicker of sparks on the ground.
Matthew gave a quick shake of his head, as though dismissing the distillery’s structural problems, and faced Jenny, taking hold of both her upper arms. “Did I understand the man? Lambton is a thief?”
&n
bsp; She shrugged and extricated herself from his grasp. “Harriet said her brother was a rum dubber. I thought she meant he made rum. I didn’t realize it was a slang term.” She started back down toward the workhouse, gazing absently past Matthew at the huge expanse of the city beyond them.
“There must be ten thousand people in Carlisle. I was a fool to think I could ever find Harriet.” She swallowed her dejection and kept walking as Matthew fell into step behind her.
She tried to think how long it had been since she had left Bresland. With or without her locket, she was expected at Darbury merely a fortnight after receiving her confirmation letter. A few days had passed between the date she’d received the letter and her final confrontation with Reverend Usher. She’d lost track of time since she’d met Matthew, but there could not be many more days before she had to report to Darbury.
As they walked past the workhouse, Jenny felt a rising sense of panic. She might lose her governess position if she did not arrive on the specified date. She needed to concern herself with survival, and not some wild chase through Carlisle in search of a burglar’s sister.
She had to face the fact that her locket was long gone, and that Matthew no longer had any reason to remain in Carlisle.
He might not remember everything yet, but in all their days together, she’d never seen him brood the way he did now. Some memory had driven a wedge between them.
And Jenny had plenty of experience to know when she was not wanted.
“How do we find a rum dubber?” he asked.
“In a village the size of Kirtwarren, it would be simple. But it cannot be done in a city this size. The search is over, Matthew.”
He frowned darkly. “You intend to give up?”
Jenny covered her quivering mouth with one hand, her heart feeling as though it could explode. She had not felt such wretchedness at Mr. Ellis’s abandonment, yet she’d known Matthew only a few days. An intense few days.
“Your locket…’Tis all you have of your family.” He touched his wrist where he wore his coppery torque, and Jenny was fairly certain that he remembered something of it now. But he said nothing to her. He did not want to tell her what he’d remembered, effectively closing her out of his thoughts and plans. She picked up her pace, nearly running in her haste to be alone with her misery.
“Jenny,” he said, quickly catching up. “There must be some way to search for a thief—”
“It’s done, Matthew. Finished. Time for me to go to Darbury, and for you—”
“One more try, Jenny. If I can find Lambton, I’m sure I can find your locket. Where would we look for a thief—”
“If he knew where to find Mr. Lambton,” she said with frustration, “a magistrate would have put him in the House of Corrections.”
“Magistrate? Where do you find such a person?”
Why could he not leave her alone in her misery? “There must be a magistrate somewhere in the city, but I don’t see how—”
“Mayhap Lambton has come to this magistrate’s attention.”
She turned and looked up at him, tamping down the despair that threatened to well up and spill over. “Matthew, there is no p-point—”
“I know Lambton’s name. I can ask questions. If he’s a thief, do you no’ think ’tis likely he’s known by the authorities?”
The sorrow in Jenny’s eyes cut Merrick deeply. Had he not needed the locket himself, he still would have done everything in his power to retrieve it for her. Yet he knew its recovery would not be sufficient to wipe the anguish from her eyes. He knew that her life had consisted of one loss after the next, yet he could do naught to change that.
He had to leave her, too.
“Matthew.” Her throat moved as she swallowed thickly. “I’ve resigned myself—”
He took her hand and continued on their way. “We’ll find it, Jenny. ’Tis my fault you were taken off the Lambton woman’s trail. I want to make it up to you.”
Her pretty brows rose. “Make it up to me?” she whispered, her chin quivering in distress.
Mo oirg. They’d gone much farther together than his performing a simple favor for her. He’d taken her innocence and declared that she belonged to him. Now he was doing all he could to keep her at arm’s length. He could hardly tell her that he was a Druzai sorcerer—a warrior from her antiquity—who’d come to find her locket and take the magical stone within, yet he owed her some kind of explanation.
Matthew pulled her to a stop and moved to face her, taking hold of both her arms. “Jenny, I realized you were right about my memories…I doona know what my responsibilities are…”
But he did, and they did not include her, at least not beyond making sure that her future held a situation far better than the one that awaited her at Darbury. He knew better than to act directly, having learned on his previous visits to Tuath that subtlety worked best.
Not even the most astute seer could predict every detail about the future, which made overt interference dangerous. Merrick had personally seen that gentle guidance and the occasional magical spell was all that was needed to save the Tuath from themselves.
He’d used subtlety in helping King Arthwyr to establish peace and prosperity within his kingdom. More than six centuries later, he had put himself in a position to suggest that King John’s barons might force the king to a binding agreement, and then he used a touch of magic to lead the king to Runnymede. And he’d helped prevent a massive, bloody Irish uprising by giving his contemporary Brian Boru the power to unite the Irish Celts, if only temporarily.
None of those tasks had been terribly complicated. Finding the brìgha-stone was proving to be a much more important and challenging feat.
Forcing himself to leave Jenny was going to be nearly impossible. She was his, yet he could not claim her as his own. With all his powers and talents, he could not change what the Druzai oracle had prophesied nearly thirty years before.
Once he found Jenny’s locket and took the brìgha-stone from it, he could risk enough magic to restore her hearing and provide her with security and independence before he took his leave. With luck, contentment and happiness would follow.
What a bastard he’d been all morning, irritable and frustrated now that he remembered his quest and knew the reality of his circumstances. He’d been certain Jenny was his céile mate, that they would bond for life, completing each other in the Druzai custom. He did not understand how he could have been so mistaken about his connection to her. Even now, he wanted to be inside her, wanted to take her hard and as fiercely as he’d done the night before.
He sensed the stiffness of her body as they walked together, felt the distance she drove between them.
Merrick muttered a few unsavory curses, in both Druzai and English. ’Twas difficult to comprehend how his physical bond with a Tuath woman could have been so intense. He could think of no Druzai lore or learning on the subject, for Druzai and Tuath had remained separate for more than a millennium, but for his own few, short encounters.
He thought of Sinann and wondered if their mating could ever reach the heights he’d shared with Jenny. He discovered he was not eager to find out.
When they had come within a few paces of the hotel, Merrick stopped Jenny. “I’ve already paid for your room here, lass. Do me the favor of waiting in your room while I go to the magistrate and ask about Lambton.”
She made no reply, but pressed her lips tightly together and headed up the staircase ahead of him. He followed her to her door and unlocked it for her, then stood and watched as she went inside. “I’ll come back with news as soon as I—”
Keeping her eyes ahead, she nodded.
“Jenny…” He wanted to feel her in his arms, to taste her mouth and lie alongside her, comforting her. But he could offer her naught. Such intimacy would not be fair to either of them. She’d been wise to try to hold him at arm’s length after seeing Ana in the ceirtlín, but for reasons she would never guess.
Jenny pushed back the curtain of the bedroom window a
nd watched Matthew walk away from the hotel. When he was out of sight, she took a seat on a straight-backed chair across from the bed and tried to clear her mind of all that had happened in the past week. She could spend no more time bemoaning the risk she’d taken with Matthew. She had to report to the master of Darbury on the fifteenth, and as far as she could reckon, it must already be the thirteenth. She needed to leave Carlisle no later than the morrow if she wanted to arrive on time to take the post at Darbury.
Her locket was not recoverable. No matter how Matthew tried to retrieve it, she knew the odds were against his success.
A lump formed in her throat, and the backs of her eyes burned. She felt moisture on her cheeks, but wiped them dry, upset that she’d become such a pitiful gump. She had not wept since Norah’s death, refusing to allow herself to become so vulnerable again.
Because it hurt so badly.
She pressed one hand to the center of her chest and took a deep breath as the four walls of the bedroom threatened to close in on her. Sniffling away her tears, she turned her attention to the cursed force within her that had cracked the balusters at the distillery. Jenny had been so upset when she’d learned about Harriet’s brother, there was no question that she was responsible for the damage.
But it was controllable. She knew that from the incident at the riverbank after she’d set off alone from the Gypsy camp. She’d seen it again when she and Matthew had been confronted by the ruffians in the Lanes…well, nearly controllable that time. She’d intended to knock over the ruined wagon and provide a distraction, but she’d caused the bricks to start crumbling from the chimneys instead.
Concentrating her efforts to produce the familiar hot prickling in her chest, she managed to project the strange, silvery threads toward the bed. She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes, forcing her brain to guide the luminous fibers. Her chest burned and her breathing became tight, but she managed to control the path of the fibers and make them slip under the quilt.
Her mind compelled the threads to pull the quilt back. It was a struggle to maintain control, drawing the strands to the edge of the blanket with her thoughts. She focused her concentration and narrowed her awareness, using the threads like fingers to pull the blanket down, but suddenly she lost her tenuous control over the fibers. They whipped up to the ceiling and bounced down to the desk near the window, slamming into the drawer and pulling it out violently. Tiny yellow sparks flew all over the room, coming to rest on the floor around her.
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