by Lisa Kleypas
"Will you ever try to find them, Merripen?" she asked. "Will you ever go away from me?"
Never, he thought in a flash of ardent need. But instead he said, "I don't know."
"If you did, I would follow you. And I would bring you back home."
"I doubt the man you marry would allow that."
Win smiled as if the statement were ridiculous. She eased herself away and let go of his hand. They began the walk back to Hampshire House in silence. "Tobar?" she suggested after a moment. "Garridan? Palo?"
"No."
" Rye?"
"No."
"Cooper?… Stanley?…" "No."
To the pride of the entire Hathaway family, Leo was accepted at the Academie des Beaux-Arts in Paris, where he studied art and architecture for two years. So promising was Leo's talent that part of his tuition was assumed by the renowned London architect Rowland Temple, who said that Leo could repay him by working as his draughtsman upon returning.
Few would have argued that Leo had matured into a steady and good-natured young man, with a keen wit and a ready laugh. And in light of his talent and ambition, there was the promise of even more attainment. Upon his return to England, Leo took up residence in London to fulfill his obligation to Temple, but he also came frequently to visit his family at Primrose Place. And to court a pretty, dark-haired village girl named Laura Dillard.
During Leo's absence, Kev had done his best to take care of the Hathaways. And Mr. Hathaway had tried on more than one occasion to help Kev plan a future for himself. Such conversations turned out to be an exercise in frustration for them both.
"You are being wasted," Mr. Hathaway had told Kev, looking mildly troubled.
Kev had snorted at that, but Hathaway had persisted.
"We must consider your future. And before you say a word, let me state that I am aware of the Rom's preference to live in the present. But you have changed, Merripen. You have advanced too far to neglect what has taken root in you."
"Do you want me to leave?" Kev asked quietly.
"Heavens, no. Not at all. As I have told you before, you may stay with us as long as you wish. But I feel it my duty to make you aware that in staying here, you are sacrificing many opportunities for self-improvement. You should go out into the world, as Leo has. Take an apprenticeship, learn a trade, perhaps enlist in the military-"
"What would I get from that?" Kev had asked.
"To start with, the ability to earn more than the pittance I'm able to give you."
"I don't need money."
"But as things stand, you haven't the means to marry, to buy your own plot of land, to-"
"I don't want to marry. And I can't own land. No one can."
"In the eyes of the British government, Merripen, a man most certainly can own land, and a house upon it."
"The tent shall stand when the palace shall fall," Kev had replied prosaically.
Hathaway had let out an exasperated chuckle. "I would rather argue with a hundred scholars," he had told Kev, "than with one Gypsy. Very well, we will let the matter rest for now. But bear in mind, Merripen… life is more than following the impulses of primitive feeling. A man must make his mark on the world."
"Why?" Kev asked in genuine bewilderment, but Hathaway had already gone to join his wife in the rose garden.
Approximately a year after Leo had returned from Paris, tragedy struck the Hathaway family. Until then none of them had ever known true sorrow, fear, or grief. They had lived in what had seemed to be a magically protected family circle. But Mr. Hathaway complained of odd, sharp pains in his chest one evening, leading his wife to conclude that he was suffering dyspepsia after a particularly rich supper. He went to bed early, quiet and gray-faced. No more was heard from their room until daybreak, when Mrs. Hathaway came out weeping and told the stunned family that their father was dead.
And that was only the beginning of the Hathaways' misfortune. It seemed the family had fallen under a curse, in which the full measure of their former happiness had been converted to sorrow. "Trouble comes in threes" was one of the sayings Merripen remembered from his childhood, and to his bitter regret, it proved to be true.
Mrs. Hathaway was so overcome by grief that she took to her bed after her husband's funeral, and suffered such melancholy that she could scarcely be persuaded to eat or drink. None of her children's attempts to bring her back to her usual self were effective. In a startlingly short time, she had wasted away to almost nothing.
"Is it possible to die of a broken heart?" Leo asked somberly one evening, after the doctor had left with the pronouncement that he could discern no physical cause of their mother's decline.
"She should want to live for Poppy and Beatrix, at least," Amelia said, keeping her voice low. At that moment, Poppy was putting Beatrix to bed in another room. "They're still too young to be without a mother. No matter how long I had to live with a broken heart, I would force myself to do it, if only to take care of them."
"But you have a core of steel," Win said, patting her older sister's back. "You are your own source of strength. I'm afraid Mother has always drawn hers from Father." She glanced at Merripen with despairing blue eyes. "Merripen, what would the Rom prescribe for melancholy? Anything, no matter how outlandish, that might help her? How would your people view this?"
Kev shook his head, switching his gaze to the hearth. "They would leave her alone. The Rom have a fear of excessive grief."
"Why?"
"It tempts the dead to come back and haunt the living."
All four were silent then, listening to the hiss and snap of the small fire.
"She wants to be with Father," Win said eventually. Her tone was pensive. "Wherever he has gone. Her heart is broken. I wish it weren't. I would exchange my life, my heart, for hers, if such a trade were possible. I wish-" She broke off with a quick breath as Kev's hand closed over her arm.
He had not been aware of reaching out for her, but her words had provoked him irrationally. "Don't say that," he muttered. He was not so far removed from his Romany past that he had forgotten the power of words to tempt fate.
"Why not?" she whispered.
Because it wasn't hers to give.
Your heart is mine, he thought savagely. It belongs to me.
And though he hadn't said the words aloud, it seemed somehow that Win had heard them. Her eyes widened, darkened, and a flush born of strong emotion rose in her face. And right there, in the presence of her brother and sister, she lowered her head and pressed her cheek to the back of Kev's hand.
Kev longed to comfort her, envelop her with kisses, surround her with his strength. Instead he released her arm carefully and risked a wary glance at Amelia and Leo. The former had picked up a few pieces of kindling from the hearthside basket, and was occupying herself by feeding them to the fire. The latter was watching Win intently.
Less than six months after her husband's death, Mrs. Hathaway was laid to rest beside him. And before the siblings could begin to accept that they had been or-phaned with such cruel swiftness, the third tragedy occurred.
"Merripen." Win stood at the front threshold of the cottage, hesitating to come in. There was such a queer look on her face that Kev rose to his feet at once.
He was bone-weary and dirty, having just come in from working all day at a neighbor's house, building a gate and fence around their yard. To set the fence posts, Kev had dug holes in ground that had already been permeated with the frost of approaching winter. He had just sat down at the table with Amelia, who was attempting to clean spots from one of Poppy's dresses with a quill dipped in spirit of turpentine. The scent of the chemical burned in Kev's nostrils as he drew in a quick breath. He knew from Win's expression that something was very wrong.
"I've been with Laura and Leo today," Win said. "Laura took ill earlier… She said her throat hurt, and her head, and so we took her home at once and her family sent for the doctor. He said it was scarlet fever."
"Oh God," Amelia breathed, the color draining
from her face. The three of them were silent with shared horror.
There was no other fever that burned so violently or spread so quickly. It provoked a brilliant red rash from the skin, imparting a fine, gritty texture like the glass paper used to smooth pieces of wood. And it burned and ravaged its way through the body until the organs failed. The disease lingered in the expired air, in locks of hair, on the skin itself. The only way to protect others was to isolate the patient.
"Was he certain?" Kev asked in a controlled voice. "Yes, he said the signs are unmistakable. And he said-"
Win broke off as Kev strode toward her. "No, Merripen!" And she held up a slim white hand with such desperate authority that it stopped him in his tracks. "No one must come near me. Leo is at Laura's house. He won't leave her. They said it was all right for him to stay, and… you must gather up Poppy and Beatrix, and Amelia, too, and take them to our cousins in Hedgerley. They won't like it, but they'll take them in and-"
"I'm not going anywhere," Amelia said, her manner calm even though she was trembling slightly. "If you have the fever, you'll need me to take care of you."
"But if you should catch it-"
"I had a very mild bout of it when I was a young child. That means I'm probably safe from it now."
"What about Leo?"
"I'm afraid he didn't have it. Which may put him in danger." Amelia glanced at Kev. "Merripen, did you ever-"
"I don't know."
"Then you should stay away with the children until this is over. Will go you collect them? They went out to play at the winterbourne. I'll pack their things."
Kev found it nearly impossible to leave Win when she might be ill. But there was no choice. Someone had to take her sisters to a safe place.
Before an hour had passed, Kev had found Beatrix and Poppy, loaded the bewildered girls into the family carriage, and taken them on the half-day journey to Hedgerley. By the time he had settled them with their cousins and returned to the cottage, it was well past midnight.
Amelia was in the parlor, wearing her nightclothes and dressing robe, her hair trailing down her back in a long braid. She sat before the fire, her shoulders hunched inward.
She looked up with surprise as Kev entered the house. "You shouldn't be here. The danger-"
"How is she?" Kev interrupted. "Any sign of fever yet?"
"Chills. Pains. No rise in temperature, as far as I can tell. Perhaps that's a good sign. Perhaps that means she'll only have it lightly."
"Any word from the Dillards? From Leo?"
Amelia shook her head. "Win said he meant to sleep in the parlor, and go to her whenever they would allow it. It isn't at all proper, but if Laura… well, if she doesn't live through this…" Amelia's voice thickened, and she paused to swallow back tears. "I suppose if it comes to that, they wouldn't want to deprive Laura of her last moments with the man she loves."
Kev sat nearby and silently sorted through platitudes he'd heard gadje say to one another. Things about endurance, and accepting the Almighty's will, and about worlds far better than this one. He couldn't bring himself to repeat any of it to Amelia. Her grief was too honest, her love for her family too real.
"It's too much," he heard Amelia whisper after a while. "I can't bear losing anyone else. I'm so afraid for Win. I'm afraid for Leo." She rubbed her forehead. "I sound like the rankest coward, don't I?"
Kev shook his head. "You would be a fool not to be afraid."
That elicited a small, dry chuckle. "I am definitely not a fool, then."
By morning Win was flushed and feverish, her legs moving restlessly beneath the covers. Kev went to a window and drew open the curtain, admitting the weak light of dawn.
She awakened as he approached the bed, her blue eyes wide in her red-burnished face. "No," she croaked, trying to shrink away from him. "You're not supposed to be here. Don't come near me; you'll catch it. Please go-"
"Quiet," Kev said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He caught Win as she tried to roll away, and settled his hand on her forehead. He felt the burning pulse beneath her fragile skin, the veins lit with raging fever.
As Win struggled to push him away, Kev was alarmed by how feeble she had grown. Already.
"Don't," she sobbed, writhing. Weak tears slid from her eyes. "Please don't touch me. I don't want you here. I don't want you to get sick. Oh, please go…"
Kev pulled her up against him, her body living flame beneath the thin layer of her nightgown, the pale silk of her hair streaming over both of them. And he cradled her head in one of his hands, the powerful battered hand of a bare-knuckle fighter. "You're mad," he said in a low voice, "if you think I would leave you now. I'll see you safe and well no matter what it takes."
"I won't live through this," she whispered.
Kev was shocked by the words, and even more by his own reaction to them.
"I'm going to die," she said, "and I won't take you with me."
Kev gripped her more closely, letting her fitful breaths blow against his face. No matter how she writhed, he wouldn't let go. He breathed the air from her, taking it deep into his own lungs.
"Stop," she cried, trying desperately to twist away from him. The exertion caused her flush to darken. "This is madness… Oh, you stubborn wretch, let me go!"
"Never." Kev smoothed her wild, fine hair, the strands darkening where her tears had tracked. "Easy," he murmured. "Don't exhaust yourself. Rest."
Win's struggles slowed as she recognized the futility of resisting him. "You're so strong," she said faintly, the words born not of praise, but damnation. "You're so strong…"
"Yes," Kev said, gently using a corner of the bed linens to dry her face. "I'm a brute, and you've always known it, haven't you?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"And you're going to do as I say." He cradled her against his chest and gave her some water.
She took a few painful sips. "Can't," she managed, turning her face away.
"More," he insisted, bringing the cup back to her lips.
"Let me sleep, please-"
"After you drink more."
Kev wouldn't relent until she obeyed with a moan. Settling her back into the pillows, he let her drowse for a few minutes, then returned with some toast softened in broth. He bullied her into taking a few spoonfuls.
By that time Amelia had awakened, and she came into Win's room. A quick double blink was Amelia's only reaction to the sight of Win leaning back against Kev's arm while he fed her.
"Get rid of him," Win told her sister hoarsely, her head resting on Kev's shoulder. "He's torturing me."
"Well, we've always known he was a fiend," Amelia said in a reasonable tone, coming to stand at the bedside. "How dare you, Merripen?… Coming into an unsuspecting girl's room and feeding her toast."
"The rash has started," Kev said, noting the roughness that was rising up Win's throat and cheeks. Her silken skin had turned sandy and red. He felt Amelia's hand touch his back, clenching in a loose fold of his shirt as if she needed to hold on to him for balance.
But Amelia's voice was light and steady. "I'll mix a solution of soda-water. That should soothe the rawness, dear."
Kev felt a surge of admiration for Amelia. No matter what disasters came her way, she was willing to meet all challenges. Of all the Hathaways, she had shown the toughest mettle so far. And yet Win would have to be stronger and even more obstinate, if she was to survive the days to come.
"While you bathe her," he told Amelia, "I'll fetch the doctor."
Not that he had any faith in a gadjo doctor, but it might give the sisters peace of mind. Kev also wanted to see how Leo and Laura were faring.
After relinquishing Win to Amelia's care, Kev went to the Dillards' home. But the maid who answered the door told him that Leo wasn't available.
"He's in there with Miss Laura," the maid said brokenly, blotting her face with a rag. "She knows no one; she is near insensible. She is failing fast, sir."
Kev felt the traction of his short pared nail
s against the tough skin of his palms. Win was less robust than Laura Dillard, less sturdy in form and constitution. If Laura was sinking so fast, it hardly seemed possible that Win would be able to withstand the same fever.
His next thoughts were of Leo, who was not a brother by blood but certainly a tribesman. Leo loved Laura Dillard with an intensity that would not allow him to accept her death rationally, if at all. Kev was more than a little concerned for him. "What is Mr. Hathaway's condition?" Kev asked. "Does he show any sign of illness?"
"No, sir. I don't think so. I don't know."
But from the way her watery gaze slid away from his, Kev understood that Leo was not well. He wanted to take Leo away from the death watch, now, and put him to bed to preserve his strength for the days to come. But it would be cruel to deny Leo the last hours with the woman he loved.
"When she passes," Kev said bluntly, "send him home. But don't let him go alone. Have someone accompany him all the way to the doorstep of the Hathaway cottage. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Two days later, Leo came home. "Laura's dead," he said, and collapsed in a delirium of fever and grief.
Chapter Four
The scarlet fever that had swept the village was a particularly virulent strain, the worst effects falling on the very young and the old. There were not enough doctors to tend the ailing, and no one outside Primrose Place dared to come. After visiting the cottage to examine the two patients, the exhausted doctor had prescribed hot vinegar poultices for the throat. He had also left a tonic containing tincture of aconite. It seemed to have no effect on either Win or Leo.
"We're not doing enough," Amelia said on the fourth day. Neither she nor Kev had had sufficient sleep, both of them taking turns caring for the ailing brother and sister. Amelia came into the kitchen, where Kev was boiling water for tea. "The only thing we've accomplished so far is to make their decline more comfortable. There must be something that can stop the fever. I won't let this happen." She stood rigid and trembling, stacking word upon word as if trying to shore up her defenses.