Change of Heart

by Margaret Eastvale

  That could be little worse, Anne reflected, than the snuff which James littered everywhere, but she was too weary to argue. Knowing her sister’s ways she was not deceived by Julia’s sudden tiredness. She might have guessed that Julia would lose little time in making an opportunity to meet Weston. What was there between the two? she fretted. It must be important to make Julia waste her chance to captivate Edmund.

  ‘Poor Julia,’ James went on without waiting for any reply. ‘I fear she is sadly exhausted by this whole sorry business.’

  ‘I cannot agree that Edmund’s return is in any way a cause for sorrow,’ retorted Anne. ‘I am very thankful to learn that he is alive after all and so, I am sure, is Julia.’

  ‘Perhaps she is at the moment, with the fellow flattering her in such a blatant fashion,’

  grumbled James. ‘You saw how he was making up to her this evening, and she seemed taken in by his pretty speeches. I don’t know what she ever saw in him. He’s nowhere near good enough for her. I made sure they weren’t left alone, but I didn’t intend to stay with the fellow once Julia was gone. I left him polluting the shrubbery with his vile smoke and came to find you.’

  ‘While you insist on remaining as a guest in Edmund’s house you must endeavour to treat him with more civility,’ Anne observed tartly. ‘If nothing else, your antagonism creates an impossible situation for me, and as I have already explained, I intend to stay here with Julia until her affairs are properly settled.’

  ‘I cannot see the need. Let the lawyers sort it out between them. We could have a quiet wedding then set off on a tour of the continent as soon as it is safe, as Julia suggested, and take her with us. Poor girl, she needs a change of scene to recover from all this upset. What do you say? You know how delighted she would be to accept such a plan.’

  ‘But I should not be delighted to have her accompany me on my honeymoon!’ Anne stared hopelessly at his baffled face. James really could not see any objection in arranging their wedding solely to suit Julia, she realised incredulously. He was totally unable to understand how humiliating it would be for a wife to share her honeymoon with the sister whom her groom preferred but who had turned him down. He was just as insensitive as Julia! They would make a fine couple!

  She was tempted to tell him so but did not want the inevitable argument yet. As he opened his mouth to reply she cut him off sharply. ‘No James! Don’t say any more. I too am tired out and should only say things I might regret later.’ James was not stopped that easily, but eventually he went away, still grumbling, leaving Anne to her own uncomfortable thoughts.

  She knew now that marriage with James was impossible, but it was going to be difficult to get him to accept that decision. He was too thick-skinned to sympathise with anyone else’s feelings. She had an uneasy notion that only outright rudeness would force him to accept that she was in earnest.

  She shivered as a chill wind blew across the lake. It was too cold to linger outside any longer. Wrapping her shawl tightly around her, she turned back towards the house. If her return interrupted Julia’s meeting with Weston then it was unfortunate, but presumably they would have enough caution to seek a private rendezvous. Julia had plenty of experience of that sort of problem and so, she was sure, had he.

  Without stopping to think, Anne took the shortest route back to the house—up through the shrubbery. It was not until the faint scene of tobacco smoke drifted towards her that she remembered James telling her that he had left Edmund there.

  She hesitated looking at the tall form silhouetted in the moonlight. It had been an exhausting day and she did not feel equal to another encounter tonight. Her brain was too weary to embark on the mental fencing that conversation with Edmund involved. Better to avoid him even if it meant a long detour.

  Motioning the dog to follow, she turned off on a side path hugging the shadows. Her soft shoes made little sound on the grassy path. Glancing back, she was relieved to see Edmund still facing in the opposite direction. Another few yards and she would be out of view.

  Behind Edmund a roosting bird flew up with a clatter of alarm. Startled Anne swung round and caught a glimpse of a dark figure moving in the shadowy trees beyond Edmund. Was it James returning? She did not think the shape bulky enough, though it was difficult to make out much in the darkness. But if it was James, why was he moving so stealthily? A shiver of apprehension ran through her as Bess growled deep in her throat.

  Anne put a hand on the dog’s collar to restrain her. Horrified, she saw the glint of metal as the newcomer raised his arm. He was levelling a pistol at Edmund! She tried to shout a warning, but her dry mouth produced only a croak. Desperately she tried again, and this time Edmund heard. He spun round, and in the same instant the shot rang out deafeningly.

  Sick with horror, Anne watched Edmund clutch at his side, stagger and fall—oh so slowly —to the ground. His head struck heavily and he lay dreadfully still.

  Bess yelped as her fingers tightened convulsively on the collar. Anne relaxed her grip and the dog hurtled away into the darkness, baying furiously. Anne ran to kneel beside Edmund, feeling frantically for his heart. Thank God, it was still beating faintly. When she lifted her hand it felt sticky with blood.

  As she stared at it, dizzy with shock, she felt a surge of panic bubble up through her.

  Desperately she fought the impulse to scream. Such cowardly behaviour would not help Edmund. She must stay calm.

  Numbly she remembered her fleeting wish that Edmund had not returned to complicate their lives. Had someone else less scrupulous, determined that their problems should be resolved by Edmund’s death?

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  STRUGGLING painfully back to consciousness, Edmund was aware that something hurt abominably. He was too dazed to be able to pinpoint the source of the discomfort yet. His head throbbed; the ground beneath him was hard and uncomfortable. When he tried to move an intense pain stabbed through his side.

  He sank back, staring muzzily around him. What had happened? His flesh prickled with the certainty that danger surrounded him. Something had happened, but what? His blurred vision clearing a little, he was able to make out trees and bushes in the darkness about him, but nothing that stirred a memory in his confused brain. Desperately he tried to remember. Where was he?

  The effort of concentration made his head throb more. He let his eyes close, only to jerk them open as the elusive memory flashed of a shot. He remembered the shock of the ball ripping into his side, himself falling—then oblivion. How long ago had that been? more important, what was the marksman doing now? Had his enemy left him for dead as at first after the battle, or were they lurking close by, waiting to finish their work?

  The urge to escape overwhelmed him, making him heedless of discomfort. He must be in the woods beyond the chateau, he decided. Jonas had feigned sickness to give him the chance to overpower the guard, then they had used the keys to free themselves. But compassion had made him too gentle and the fellow had recovered quickly enough to sound the alarm before they won clear.

  ‘We must get well away before daybreak,’ he muttered urgently. The noisome torment of his prison cell was vivid in his memory now, and he dreaded to be dragged back there once again. As he strained to lift himself up a gentle hand pushed him back.

  ‘Lie still,’ urged an anxious voice that was surely familiar but it could not be. He must be lightheaded, his brain playing another of its foolish tricks. How could Julia be here in France?

  No, it was Jonas who had helped him escape; Jonas who shared his peril. With sudden determination he knew he had to make an effort for Jonas’s sake. Too much time had been wasted already. If they did not get on their way immediately they would lose their chance of escape yet again. They must reach the coast and find a boat before the French discovered their trail. He had to struggle back to England—to Ashorne and Julia.

  Again he tried to push himself up to a sitting position, and groaned as an agonising pain stabbed at his side. He sank back defe
ated. It was no use. The ball must be lodged in his ribs. He would never make the coast like this. The French would recapture him and throw him back into that damned cell, gloating over his failure. All the same, there was no need for Jonas to be trapped with him.

  ‘Leave me here,’ he insisted hoarsely. ‘Get clear yourself. I’ll be all right.’

  But the gentle voice that bade him be still did not belong to his cell-mate. The cool hand checking his pulse was too soft to be Jonas’s. He strained to resolve the riddle, and all at once Edmund’s head cleared. He remembered everything; knew that the war was over for him, that he was returned to the safety of home. Only home, it seemed, was safe no longer.

  ‘Someone tried to kill me!’ he murmured incredulously.

  ‘Yes but he has gone now. Keep still or the bleeding will start again,’ the soothing voice told him.

  Edmund shifted cautiously, trying to glimpse its owner.

  ‘Julia?’ he asked hopefully. He felt the figure beside him stiffen and draw’ away. There was just the faintest reproach in the reply.

  ‘No, Anne.’

  He frowned. Stupid of him to make the same mistake again. The recollection of his foolish behaviour in the library yesterday still filled him with embarrassment. He had not intended to be so impetuous, had always planned to give Julia time to recover from the shock of his arrival before making any demands on her. Then, when he had seen the slight form in the doorway, so like the miniature over which he had pored for so many lonely hours, he had lost his head, forgetting all his sensible plans in the joy of clasping her in his arms again at last.

  It was disturbing to recall how enjoyable a sensation kissing Anne had been before he realised his error. He had not thought himself so fickle. It had been daunting to discover that his memory had played him false, that it was Anne who had received his ardent greeting.

  Had it been guilt or disappointment uppermost in his mind that made him so curt with her when he learned of his mistake? Had he been trying to punish her for his own folly? How could he have guessed that Anne would change so greatly? But if the change in Anne had surprised him, that had been nothing to the shock, a few minutes later, of finding Julia so altered. Her lovely face harder, her voice sharp, shriller than in the memories he had cherished so long…

  That was being unfair, he admonished himself immediately. It was merely agitation at the unexpected shock of his return that had made Julia appear so different, made her act so strangely. Tonight she had been her old self. Seated at the piano in the candlelight the years had dropped away. Then she had been as exquisite and desirable as he remembered her.

  When they sang together he could have fancied himself transported back six years, to the time before he left for the Peninsula.

  Everything was as it had been then—the piano, the music, Julia’s teasing blue eyes laughing up into his as she sang. There had even been, just as before, the jealous figure thrusting between them, attempting to mar their pleasure, spoil their delight in each other.

  Six years ago it had been Thomas, envious of the understanding that united them, who had tried to destroy it. Tonight James had played his role. James, who was supposed to be Anne’s future husband, yet gave all his attention to her sister. Inexplicably, because Anne was equally desirable. If his heart were not irrevocably given to Julia he could easily lose it to, the younger sister.

  All that had been missing was Anne’s quiet adoration in the background. She had been in the room this evening, but remote from them—as if she had dispassionately cut herself off from them all. She seemed untroubled by their activities, unaffected even by her fiancé’s desertion. Had six years made Anne so insensitive that she felt no jealousy?

  He found that hard to credit. She had always lived in the background, outshone by her more lovely sister, but surely she would expect her future husband to put her first. That was not too improbable a wish; Anne had grown into a thoroughly attractive woman.

  He could not suppress a selfish pang of regret that time had caused her to outgrow her childhood fondness for him. She seemed now to resent rather than welcome his return.

  Thomas had mocked at her devotion, but Edmund always valued Anne’s affection. Selfishly he missed it now. But, alas, time had wrought its changes in Anne as in so many of the people he had left, he reflected ruefully. Six years had transformed the child he remembered.

  Obviously, with the calm good sense that had always characterised her, Anne had cast off that early infatuation.

  He could scarcely blame her, after his unfortunate error yesterday, if she treated him now with cool reserve. Then to make the same mistake again! All the same, he acknowledged wryly, it was lucky that it had been she who found him here, not Julia. Anne had always been of far more use in an emergency than her sister. Dearly as he had always loved Julia, he had to admit that she had her imperfections. Where Anne had begun to tend his injuries, Julia would have gone into hysterics.

  He must have uttered the thought aloud, for smothering a laugh Anne replied, ‘I must confess I was tempted myself, but decided this was not the time to indulge in such a luxury.

  Apart from any other consideration, they would have been completely wasted with you lying unconscious there.’

  She grew serious again as she added, ‘Are you recovered enough for me to leave you while I go for help to carry you in? I’ve done the best I can here, but that wound ought to be treated properly. I’d have gone before, but I was afraid to leave you alone in case that man returned…’

  Her words trailed uncomfortably away and Edmund forced his mind back to the incredible fact that here, in peaceful England, someone had tried to kill him.

  ‘You don’t believe it could have been an accident? A poacher, perhaps?’

  Regretfully Anne shook her head. ‘He took too deliberate an aim.’

  ‘Who was it? Could you recognise him?’

  ‘I couldn’t see him clearly enough. It was too dark under the trees to make much out—only the pistol.’

  ‘But you called to me?’ He frowned with the effort of remembering. He had heard the faint warning cry and turned to see her outlined in the moonlight. With a surge of excitement he had assumed that this was Julia come out to meet him; that the sudden onset of tiredness she had pleaded earlier had been only an excuse to rid them of James’s inhibiting presence. She used to do that when Thomas became a nuisance.

  He had spun eagerly round to greet her. At the same instant the pistol report deafened him and he felt the ball rip into his side.

  ‘I could see he was aiming at you,’ Anne explained. ‘I tried to shout a warning, but he fired as I called and you pitched over. For a moment I thought you were dead!’ She shivered at the memory, then went on more calmly. ‘Perhaps he thought so too, for he ran off. Bess chased after him but I stayed to tend to you. Fortunately the ball seems to have missed any vital spot though it is difficult to be sure in the dark. I think you must have hit your head as you fell and knocked yourself unconscious.’

  Edmund put a cautious hand to his head. He could feel no wound, but it certainly felt tender.

  ‘The sooner I can get indoors and send someone to hunt out this fellow, the better.’ He tried to push himself up but again the effort of moving made his head reel and he sank back. ‘I don’t like the idea of you being out here with a madman running loose with a pistol.’

  Anne bit her lip as she watched his struggles. ‘It is no use, Edmund. We shall have to get someone to carry you. I wish I knew whether it was safe to leave you now! Even Bess has disappeared.’ She walked to the end of the path, calling the dog, but there was no response.

  With a frown Edmund watched her shiver in the cool breeze and realised that her arms and throat were bare. ‘You’ll catch cold in that flimsy dress!’ he scolded irritably. ‘Surely you didn’t come out without a shawl. I thought you more sensible.’ Then, looking down, he saw that its lacy folds were tucked around him. Dragging it off, he insisted that she took it back.

  ‘
I’m as warm as toast,’ he lied, ‘and you look perished. It’s a trifle gory on one side but better than freezing.’

  As she wrapped it round her thankfully, they heard James hurrying towards them calling, ‘Anne! Where are you, Anne?’

  ‘Here,’ she shouted back. Soon he puffed into view demanding peevishly, ‘Whatever is going on tonight? I heard that overgrown hound of yours down by the gate baying like a banshee. I tried to pull her away but the damned brute bit me. I couldn’t see you anywhere and I got really worried. How am I going to explain it all to Julia?’ As he came close enough to take in the scene his voice rose in consternation. ‘What the devil has been happening here? Are you all right, Anne? That’s blood on your shawl!’

  ‘Yes, I’m perfectly safe, but Edmund has been hurt!’ Impatiently she shook off his solicitous hand. ‘Don’t fuss about me, James. Go and fetch some of the servants to carry Edmund back to the house.’

  ‘But oughtn’t we to…’

  ‘Don’t waste time arguing, James!’ she snapped. ‘Do as I ask, and don’t forget to send someone for the doctor. Hurry!’

  Deflated, he scuttled away. Edmund chuckled, then winced as the movement sent a red-hot pincer of pain through his ribs.

  ‘Are you always as forthright with the poor fellow?’

  ‘Oh, dear! Was I being a managing female again?’ asked Anne repentantly. ‘Papa used to say it was my worst fault. I don’t mean to be sharp, but I cannot bear to see people dither.

  What is the point of long discussions when something needs to be done urgently?’

  Or of hysterics, he thought, and immediately felt guilty at the criticism that implied of Julia.

  She could not help her sensitivity. The feminine weakness that made her unable to deal with crises was surely part of her charm. Anne’s good sense was admirable, but Julia was infinitely more womanly. She might be different from her sister but, he told himself firmly, Julia was far more to his taste. Once her period of mourning was over he intended to beg her to be his wife.