Eager to take her mind off her worries, Jane turned her attention to a battered stone turret in the distance. She noticed as they drew closer that it was the highest of two towers connected by a crumbling wall. All that remained of what had once been a mighty medieval fortress.
It looked…strangely familiar to her. The tallest tower in particular. The way the sun glinted off the white stone. The uneven weathering and wear. Had she seen a picture of it? Was its history chronicled in a book she’d long ago read and forgotten? Had that history been particularly dark? It must have been, because she felt an awful sense of foreboding at the very sight of it. And the closer they got, the stronger the sensation became.
Where had she seen it?
On the far side of the old fortress, the unmistakable clatter and roar of a train filtered through the woods. Jane dragged her eyes away from the ruins to stare at a plume of smoke that rose above the treetops.
And that was when she remembered. She’d not read about the ruins in a history book. She’d seen them with her own eyes. Only last time, her view had been from the other side. She’d caught glimpses through the trees as she’d stared out the window of her train.
The memory of that day turned her stomach.
The sea air will be good for you. It will make you better.
That’s what her father had told her.
What an adventure it will be, he’d said.There’s nothing to fear.
Jane hadn’t been afraid. She’d been excited, overflowing with anticipation of her first glimpse of the ocean. She’d been thrilled at the prospect of spending a summer at the shore. She’d been hopeful, albeit still doubtful, that her newest governess would prove kinder than the last.
She’d been lied to.
They’d never reached the ocean. Her governess had taken her off the train at the next stop, bundled her into a carriage, and dropped her off a half mile outside of town at Brackmer’s Asylum for the Imbecile, Feeble-minded, and Morally Defective Child.
Where she had remained for two nightmarish years.
Suddenly, the sound of the train seemed enormously loud in Jane’s ears. The rhythmicchug-chug-chug of the engine became an echo of her own painfully pounding heart.
Chug-chug-chug.
She could imagine the feel and sound of the wheels beneath her feet, grinding against the rails, taking her ever closer to the asylum. To the dark and loneliness. To the muted sobs that filtered through the walls of her room.
To the ever-present fear of the water cure. Her skin grew cold at the memory of that first sharp sting of ice water, the painful clatter of teeth, the bite of hands holding her down, the burning that started at her toes and spread up her skin like wildfire.
Don’t fight, girl. It’s for your own good.
Chug-chug-chug.
They were so close, only a few more miles to town, and the asylum was but a short walk beyond. She would be there in a matter of minutes.
And then what? Could she simply ride through the village, act as if she’d never been there before? Never seen it?
She couldn’t. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t go there at all.
What if people recognized her? What if they said something to Gabriel? She hadn’t told him anything yet. She’dnever planned to tell him about this.
The villagers might leave her no choice. What if they took her away? Took her back?
She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved down the panic that threatened to wash away all common sense. No one was going to drag her back—certainly not to Brackmer’s. It was closed. It had shut down years ago.
Shecould go into town. She had to. They had a plan.
Besides, there was no reason to assume she’d be recognized there. There had been very little interaction between the inmates at the asylum and the villagers. Nearly all the staff had lived on-site.
Nearly, she thought, but not all.
Chug-chug-Jane-chug.
There had been a few day laborers, and men and women who brought in supplies. And what had happened to all the staff at the asylum after it had closed its doors? They may have taken positions in town. Was it possible she might encounter Mr. Clemens? Or worse, Mrs. Fitz? She’d had nails that dug into the skin.
Chug-Jane-chug-chug.
Would they recognize the woman she was now as the child they had tormented all those years ago?
Something bumped her leg. “Jane!”
She whipped her gaze away from the ruins and billowing smoke of the railway to discover Gabriel riding right alongside her. His face was a mask of confusion and no small amount of worry.
“What?” She asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I should like to know. I called your name three times just now.”
“Did you?” She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. “I… I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m riding three feet from you.”
“I was preoccupied.”
“You were breathing hard enough to wake the dead. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She felt frozen solid. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You are the worst liar I have ever met,” he muttered, then snagged the reins from her hands and brought them both to a quick halt. “What is wrong?”
She wracked her brain for an excuse, preferably one that would also save her from going into the town ahead, but nothing came to her. “I don’t want to go this way,” she finally admitted. “I don’t want to go into Lansville.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I’ve been there before.”
“Yes, I gathered, as you already know the name of it.”
“I didn’t like it.”
“I reasoned that out as well.” He glanced in the direction of town and back again, then studied her for a long, quiet moment. “Why don’t you want to go, Jane?” he asked gently. “What happened in Lansville?”
“I don’t wish to discuss it.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. She had little faith in her ability to detect subtle changes of mood, but she’d noticed over the last few days that Gabriel had a tendency to tense his jaw and tighten his mouth a little when he was annoyed or frustrated. He looked especially frustrated at the moment.
“Will you tell me how long it’s been?”
“I was a child. My governess brought me. We were on our way to the coast.” It was always easier to handpick truths than craft a clever lie.
“All right.” He shifted in his saddle, looked behind him, then toward the woods. “We’ll head farther southwest and go around to the next town.”
The sudden announcement surprised her. She’d been waiting for him to question her further, demand more information before agreeing to alter his plans. “I… Are you certain?”
“Yes,” he replied. Justyes.
Ordinarily, Jane found Gabriel’s distaste for explanations distinctly aggravating. But just now… She felt a peculiar warmth steal over her, a blend of gratitude and tenderness that soothed away the sharpest edges of her fear. Right now she found his reticence quite the sweetest thing. He would change their plans because she had asked it of him. No further discussion was required.
“Thank you, Gabriel.”
“You’re welcome,” he returned with a small, albeit slightly lopsided, smile. “This way, then.”
“Wait.” She held up a hand. “This new plan. Tell me the truth. Is it as good as the original plan?”
“The truth?” he repeated, his lips curving down thoughtfully. “No. The sooner we get to a train station, the better, and this will delay us. But it will do well enough for—”
“Well enough is not sufficient.” She swallowed back the ball of fear in her throat and nodded toward the chimney smoke she could see in the distance. “We’ll go into Lansville. We’ll go on as we were.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” Not at all. What she wanted was to go southwest to anot
her town. Had she been traveling alone, she would have diverted her course by miles and miles to avoid Lansville. But she wasn’t alone. Her decision affected not only her, but Gabriel as well. She’d not let the shame of the past endanger him.
To press her point, she urged her mount forward toward town.
He didn’t say anything else, but he brought his horse up next to hers, and stayed close.
A half hour later, Jane was back in her gown and staring at the buildings of Lansville with confusion. She’d had little chance to study the town on her first visit—her governess had been quick to sweep her off to the asylum—but she could have sworn it looked completely different. The buildings closest to the station had been made of timber, not the brick she saw now. They’d been worn and decrepit for the most part, but there had been one little shop with bright blue shutters that seemed almost cheerful.
That shop was nowhere to be seen. None of the buildings looked remotely like what she remembered. They were new, their brick and mortar still bright, as if the entire street had been built in one go sometime in the last few years.
Maybe it was a different town. Maybe she’d only imagined that the ruins looked the same as the ones in her childhood memory.
It had all been so long ago. She’d only caught glimpses of the tower before. She could have been mistaken.
Slowly, as they made their way toward a nearby inn at the edge of town, her nerves began to dissipate.
“It’s different,” she murmured to herself as they dismounted in front of the inn. “It’s not the same. I might have been mistaken about…”
She trailed off as she glanced up at the sign over the door.
The Silver Mare.
And her mouth went dry as dust. It wasn’t different. The buildings might be new, but the town was not. She stared at the sign, barely noticing when a young boy took the reins out of her hand.
Without a doubt, she was standing in Lansville.
“I remember this inn.” At least, she remembered the sign, but that was close enough.
Gabriel looked down at her, a line of concern across his brow. “You’re certain?”
“Yes,” she replied, and pointed at the sign. “It’s the same.” The same name, the same broad, silver lettering and painted image of a rearing horse with a flowing mane and short, cropped tail. “I wasn’t mistaken.”
“All right.” His hand came up to settle lightly on her back. “We won’t be here long. I promise.”
But they were herenow, she thought. And all the fear came rushing back, worse this time because she’d been feeling so much better, almost giddy with relief. It was further to fall, and there was no easing into it like she had on the way in. There was no talking herself into coming; she’d already arrived. She was surrounded by the past. It was all around her. There was no escaping it.
Jane followed Gabriel into the inn as if she were walking through a terrible dream. They found the innkeeper inside the tavern—a loud, busy room on the ground floor. Jane barely followed the ensuing conversation, but she heard Gabriel ask after the history of the town, and the innkeeper mentioned something about a fire. Which certainly explained the new construction, she thought. The timber buildings had burned away and been replaced by brick.
But the old sign must have survived.
“It did, missus,” the innkeeper said suddenly, and Jane realized with a start that she’d spoken aloud.
The elderly man turned clouded blue eyes toward her and displayed an obvious set of false teeth. “Found it near untouched amongst the rubble. Damnedest thing. Begging your pardon.”
“Quite all right.” She wished it had burned with the rest. She wished the entire town had gone to ash and blown away in the wind, never to be seen again. “I’m sure you were pleased with the discovery.”
She was also sure that the man was old enough to have been running the inn all those years ago when she’d passed through town. Hoping he would take her quietness for shyness, she dipped her chin nearly to her chest, took a small step back behind Gabriel, and let him finish the transaction without further input from her.
She kept her face hidden as they passed through the tavern, only looking up once they reached the bottom of a narrow staircase. Gabriel pressed a key into her hand and gave her directions to the room. She listened closely, all too aware that she was distracted by both nerves and noise.
He would go and buy rail tickets, but it might be a while before it was time to leave. They would wait in the relative safety of the inn until then. She was to go to their room, lock the door, close the drapes, and not open the door for anyone but him.
“Yes, all right.” It was better than all right, she thought, stifling a sigh of relief. Hiding away in a room soundedlovely. It might not be particularly courageous of her, but she’d faced any number of fears over the last few days. She could be forgiven a brief bout of cowardice.
She hurried up the stairs, paused at the first landing, and turned around to find Gabriel watching her from the bottom step.
She waved back down at him, which, for some reason, seemed to please him enormously.
“No one but me, Jane.”
“No one but you,” she agreed.
He smiled at her then, that wonderful, inviting, and rakish smile that she quite simply adored.
Her lips curved up as she turned around again and started for the next flight of stairs. She wasn’t a coward. She’d come into town, hadn’t she? It was simply good sense to stay in the room while…
She paused with her foot on the second step.
Wait… Where was the room? Had Gabriel said the second door on the right on the first floor, or the first door on the right on the second floor?
She looked back to where he’d been standing, but he was gone.
He’d said… He…said…
No. No, no, no, no.What had he said?
Second…floor.
No, door.
No…
Yes. Door. It was definitely door.
Wasn’t it?
She wasn’t sure. Why wasn’t she sure? She’d listened so carefully. Why couldn’t she remember?
She tried to find the memory, walk through it in her mind moment by moment. She could see it. She could recall every second. He had talked, and she had listened and understood. And yet…
Damn it,whathad she understood? Was itfloorordoor?
She couldn’t be sure.
Suddenly, she felt like a child. For a moment, it felt as if all the hateful things her governesses and the specialist and her father had said about her were true.
Idiot girl.
With a skill born of entirely too much practice, Jane shoved the self-doubt away. Those people had been wrong. She was not an idiot. She had never been an idiot. She’d made a mistake, that was all, and now she would fix it. It was as simple as that.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she looked about her and considered her options. She couldn’t go knocking about on the doors of strangers. It was too late to chase after Gabriel.
Could she ask the innkeeper? That might work. Unless he told her where to go and she didn’t understand him, or he suddenly recognized her as a former inmate of the asylum.
She should ask someone else. No, she should find someone else and request that she beshown to her room. She’d speak to a maid, or someone working in the tavern. Yes, that was it.
Slowly, she made her way back downstairs. To her dismay, she discovered that the tavern had grown even more crowded during the brief time she’d been on the stairs. At least a half dozen new patrons had arrived, and now nearly every table and chair in sight was filled with people talking, laughing, and clanging flatware and goblets. The noise was overwhelming, slicing through her already frayed nerves.
A middle-aged man delivering ale to a table caught her eye, set down his drinks, and headed straight for her. Did he look familiar? Could she have known him?
He offered a polite smile, showing oversized teeth beneath an equally oversized mustac
he. “A relativee up man?”
“I... Er… I’d like to be shown to my room, please.”
“Wooden ice obscene tea…?” The rest of his question, such as it was, faded into oblivion when a particularly raucous group of young men in the corner let loose with a sudden round of boisterous laughter.
The man before her, on the other hand, was silent. He was waiting for an answer, and she hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d asked.
“I… Um…”
He repeated the question, but it was nonsense to her. Utter nonsense.
Dear God. Not here. Please, please, anywhere but here.
She didn’t know what to say to him. What if he was asking her name, or inquiring where her husband had gone? She couldn’t respond with another request to be shown to her room. That wouldn’t make sense.
She was going to give herself away. They would know. Someone would recognize her as the stupid little girl who belonged in the asylum. She’d…
“Do you know, I believe I’ve changed my mind,” she announced. “I’m hungry.” It was the first, and only, response that managed to push its way through the morass of fear. “I should like to dine. Here.” She waved a stiff arm to indicate the tavern. “But privately,” she added quickly. “Please.”
There was a long, terrifying pause.
Had she said that correctly? Had she jumbled the words? Had it been a completely inappropriate response?
He nodded once. “Aye, missus. Fish day.”
Oh, thank God. She wasn’t sure what fish day was, but he’d nodded and pointed to a door at the far end of the room. That had to be a good sign.
She followed him to a small, private dining room that was blissfully quiet compared to the tavern. Before he could ask her another question, she took a seat and requested bread and stew, knowing full well she’d not be able to choke down a single mouthful.
“Straightaway, missus,” he replied and hurried off, shutting the door behind him.
As Jane looked around the sparse little room, all she could think was that there must have been a better solution than this. She was sitting quite alone in front of an enormous window that provided anyone walking past with a perfectly clear view of her.
A Dangerous Deceit (Thief-Takers) Page 22