“I think I have gone mad. I have lost what little was left of my mind,” he muttered.
“No…no you haven’t, Gil,” Lewis said softly. “What you see is real. I see what you see. I think Charlie is making Hugo see something else, though. Spirits can be a tricky lot that way.”
“I give up. I…I…I won’t do it. I won’t leave England…I won’t…I will do whatever you want me to do…I won’t go and play with the whores anymore…I’ll be a good boy, I will even go into the Army if you want me to…” Hugo descended into a fit of babbling. Hugo had obviously gone quite mad. Gilbert couldn’t understand what he was saying, and he didn’t really give a damn, either. The man had lost his mind, and now, he was in a prison of his own making. Hugo suddenly pushed himself to his feet, and looked wildly at them all. “No, you are not real. You are all weaving your devilish magic on me. You should all be burned at the stake! You are all monsters. Hellfire, devils, monsters,” he screamed, holding his head again, he collapsed, and laid out on his back. His eyes were unblinking. A faraway gaze shimmered within the light blue depths. He had left for parts unknown, leaving only his body behind.
“Oh, now Gil, you are not mad, but that fellow,” Wisdom said softly, “He has already gone to Bedlam. They will have to commit him for sure.”
“Did he hurt you?” Gil asked Hope, holding her close.
“No…he wanted to hurt you. I was so afraid for you,” she said breathlessly.
He shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I have Charlie protecting me. I won’t come to any harm.”
“I don’t think that’s really why Charlie is here,” Lewis murmured. “He hasn’t been here to torture you—or to protect you, Gil, although he has helped you out of a few scrapes, and of course, he helped us here today with Hugo. But he…”
Charlie slowly turned, and Gil inhaled a sharp breath. He looked lifelike. His grey blue eyes were filled with overwhelming sadness. His skin was pale. Paler than Gil had ever seen him in life.
He pointed at Gil, and then, moved his hand to point elsewhere.
“What…what is he trying to say?” Gil asked. Strangely enough, he found that Charlie was pointing at Lord Wisdom. “I don’t understand, Charlie. Why isn’t he speaking? Lewis, do you know what he’s trying to tell me?”
Lewis shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t an inkling, Gil.”
“I think I can solve Charlie’s riddle,” Lord Wisdom said, squaring his shoulders. “I…it was a riddle I only recently solved myself. It seems the two of us are connected. Rather closely, it seems.”
“Go on,” Gil ordered. “Get it all off your chest.” Why did he feel as if the news he was about to hear was something he wouldn’t want to hear, but he had to hear?
“I…I don’t think you will want to hear what I have to tell you. And I am not entirely certain this is the time for it, and I don’t think it is the best setting either.”
“Charlie wants me to know…so spit it out, Wisdom. I don’t give a rap if it pleases you or not.”
“We…we are brothers, Lord Langford,” Wisdom muttered, coloring up, he started coughing, and it took him a few moments to recover himself.
“No…” Gil said resolutely. “We are certainly not brothers. Someone like you could never be related to me.”
“Someone like me? Oh, I say now, steady on there, chap, that’s a little harsh, and I don’t think I deserve that sort of treatment.”
In one startling movement, Charlie’s spirit moved. He now stood between Wisdom and Gil, and he was nodding his head happily.
“You…it seems you are born on the wrong side of the blanket, Gilbert. My Father wasn’t as straight laced as he seems now for all of his life. It uh…well, it appears that he dallied with a housemaid, that maid being your mother.”
“No,” Gil said. He was in denial, and he didn’t want to come out of it anytime soon. “My mother wouldn’t have done anything like that, and if she did, she would have told me.” Wouldn’t she? He didn’t know anything anymore. His mother had been a better soul before the death of her son, and first husband. As she was now…well, she didn’t want anything to do with Gilbert, blaming him for Charlie’s death. She had never said as much to him, but he knew that was her sentiment. He could feel her coldness the last time he decided to visit her, and she had been distanced from him, telling him that she didn’t need his sort of help. It had been like a slap in his face. “Stop besmirching my good mother’s honor, Wisdom. Or I will have to plant a facer on you, and I don’t deny having that urge once or twice before. You seem to bring the fighter out in me.”
“Most siblings have that effect on each other,” Lewis muttered.
“I am not doing it out of malice, old chap. It is true. You and I are related. Furthermore, your little bit of luck, comes from your father’s side of the family—it was never Charlie helping you along—you were helping yourself…even though you didn’t know it at the time, and you can give thanks to your father’s side—our father for that special ability.”
“My father was a chandler,” Gil said stiffly.
“No, old chap. Your natural father is a Marquess, and he is rolling in blunt, with a little help from me, I am certain he will see that you are given what you are due. He will be obliged to recognize you.”
“I don’t need your father’s bloody juice. Do you hear me? I don’t need anything from the Wisdoms. Besides, your father wouldn’t want the scandal, would he? Most toffs fear that sort of thing, and looking at you…I doubt your nob of a father has more backbone than you. You look like a weak little fop.”
Wisdom’s eyes flashed with anger, and then the anger quickly dissipated. No matter how hard Gilbert tried, he couldn’t seem to rile the man. “My father doesn’t give a rap for Society. He cloisters himself away in the Country, and fusses about me so much, I can’t have room to breathe, let alone live my own life. Focusing on you…his long lost eldest son might take a bit of his attention off of me. It might make the old boy easier to live with, so I welcome your presence in our lives—no matter how annoying you might seem to be at the moment. Either you were never taught any manners—or you’re just an arsehole, but I shall forgive you for all of your transgressions against me. Never fear.”
Gilbert groaned. He was serious about not wanting anything to do with Cedric Wisdom or his blasted father. And if Wisdom thought he could reconcile him with his sire, he had another think coming. He had had a father. The man had cared for him like he was his own, and now, he was dead. As far as Gil was concerned, he didn’t need someone to take Robert Jones’s place.
Freddie and Felix started laughing.
“I always knew you were one lucky bastard, Gil,” Felix quipped. “And you should tell Lord Wisdom that you are not an arsehole…you’re just a bastard!”
“You are the son of a toff, just like me, Lucky!” Freddie exclaimed happily. “Oh, how fate has ended up mocking us. I wonder…I wonder if you are a chip off the old block or not.”
Freddie and Felix thought it an excellent jest, but Gilbert wasn’t laughing.
“Oh, aye. Except you, my friend, were legitimate. Is that what you wanted to tell me, Charlie? Did you want me to know about the true circumstances of my birth?” he asked, turning to Charlie. Charlie solemnly nodded his head. “Charlie…do you blame me for your death?” Charlie looked taken aback. He slowly shook his head. Relief flooded through him. Gilbert watched with fear growing in his heart as Charlie started to fade way. “Don’t go, Charlie. Stay with me. I don’t want you to go. There is so much time that we have lost.”
“You…” Hope finally spoke. “You have to let him go, Gil. He has done all he can for you. He…he needs to move on now. He needs to find peace. Let him.”
Gil knew she was right.
He knew it, and yet he still silently rebelled against it. He didn’t want Cedric Wisdom as a brother. No one could ever replace Robert or Charles Jones. They were his true family. And they were dead, and he was not. He couldn’t live
in the past. He had to live for his future, and Hope was his future. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. He watched as Charlie waved his final farewell, and disappeared.
Gilbert had to settle his thoughts on Hope, she already had his heart. She was his beacon of light right now, and the only person that could keep him sane.
Ignoring, Wisdom, he gathered Hope into his arms, and kissed her lightly.
“There are a lot of people back in Mayfair that are anxiously awaiting your return. Why don’t we oblige them?” he asked softly. He would continue to act as if Wisdom didn’t exist. Once he was ready to accept that part of his life, then, Wisdom would know it.
She nodded her head. He worried about her. She was pale and looked weakened.
Charlie was gone. He knew he wouldn’t see or hear from him again, not in this life anyway.
The next part of his life was just beginning. His life with Hope was still ahead of him. He wanted to marry her as soon as possible.
She had been his Candlemas Hope. His light in a world of a darkness, and now…now, he would make her his Valentine Bride.
Chapter Twenty-One
“So, that’s it? We won’t have to worry about Sir Hugo coming back for you?” Faith asked anxiously.
All of her sisters were gathered in her bedchamber while she dressed for her wedding to Gilbert. Her mother had popped in and popped out in her breezy absent minded way. Giving Hope a light kiss on the forehead, Elizabeth had given her some terrible advice on what it meant to be a wife, and then had given her usual vacant smile, and had left to the room, saying that the flower arrangements needed her attention.
“If Sir Hugo ever managed escaping St. Mary Bethlehem, I do believe that Gilbert might just kill him,” Hope said softly.
“And where would that leave you?” Faith asked.
“Exactly,” Hope sighed heavily.
“I still can’t believe it,” Desi muttered. “I almost got you killed. It’s all my fault. If he had done away with you—I never would have forgiven myself. I am a wretched foul creature. I deserve ten thousand lashes—no…I deserve to be turned into a pig. A big stinking filthy pig.”
“You didn’t seek to put me in danger, Desi. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Hope looked at her reflection in the mirror. She wore the same red dress that Fanny had worn to marry Felix. “I can only hope this lovely frock brings me a bit of luck.”
“Some would say you won’t need it, now that you are about to marry one of the luckiest men in England,” Faith pointed out.
Hope laughed. “Don’t let Lord Langford hear you say that. He doesn’t think he is lucky at all. He still thinks that all of his good fortune was courtesy of his brother, Charlie, and I do think he has a hard road ahead of him. He won’t…I fear he won’t be able to accept what he is…”
“What do you think he will do when he hears the truth?” Amy asked.
“He has heard all that he can take right now, and honestly, it isn’t my place to tell him that he has inherited other qualities from his Wisdom side. Qualities that made him into the man he is today. I think that Cedric is keen to tell him everything, but Lewis is keeping him at bay for now, and I suppose I cannot blame him. Presently, Gilbert can’t even think about being reconciled with his father, even though Lord Wisdom gave him the letter his father wrote to him. Gil won’t break the seal on it. I don’t know if he shall ever read it. If he doesn’t burn it, we shall be so lucky.”
“Oh, well. It’s not as if you need magic to live your daily lives. Desi has pledged not to use it so frivolously from here on in, haven’t you, Desi?” Grace asked.
“Yes. I don’t want to cause anyone else to get hurt…I finally see that all magic comes with a price that I am not willing to pay. I won’t do anything but rely on my glamour from now on, just as Papa always urged us to do—he was right. He always was.”
“Do you think you can stick to that?” Charity asked gently.
“I will try,” Desi said, a determined glint in her eyes. “No…I will do it. I can do it. I just need to keep reminding myself what almost happened to Hope…I don’t want that to ever happen to anyone else that I love.”
“I suppose that is all we can ask of you. We know how dreadfully strong the temptation can be,” Amy murmured. “I have almost had a few slip ups myself. It is a constant daily struggle—but it is a battle worth fighting.”
“Come on, girls, it is time for me marry the love of my life,” Hope declared. Nothing could ruin this special day, not even magic.
Hope wouldn’t let it.
*****
Gilbert sat alone in the Ante Library.
The smaller library was an intimate space, and wasn’t nearly as capacious as the larger library.
He and Hope were to be married in the larger Library in a few minutes. He had opened the missive that his father, William Wisdom, the Marquess of Covingham, had sent to him. Reading it had plunged him into more unfamiliar territory. He only knew one thing for certain. He loved Hope, and the love he felt for her could get him through anything, including the startling and life changing revelations found in his father’s missive.
He didn’t want anything that his father offered him, in fact, he felt like writing back to the old man and telling him exactly what he could do with it. He particularly didn’t want to read about the bloody legacy that was carried in his blood. It was that enchanted legacy that had ultimately enabled Lord Wisdom to find him. His father could have found him years ago, and hadn’t because his wife was still alive. He had feared his wife. Feared what she would do if she ever discovered that Gilbert existed.
Gil read over the words that were of particular interest to him again,
My sources tell me that you are a Wisdom, Son, maybe not in name but in blood. They say you are gifted with the sort of luck that only charms those like us—those with the blood of the fair folk running through their veins.
As my illegitimate son, you cannot inherit any of my titles or lands…but at Cedric’s urging I have set aside a tidy little sum for you, making you a wealthy man. I look forward to the day that you will come and see me.
That ruddy day would never come.
Gil would be damned if he went and saw that rapscallion. Had he even cared one iota for his mother? He wearily closed his eyes. Should he cry or laugh? Both seemed suitable for the way that he felt right now. All of those years where he had watched Lewis do unexplainable feats, and thinking he could never deal with that sort of life—and now, now, he discovered that he too was gifted with magic. Not the sort that Lewis was endowed with, but still…
He let out a ragged breath. How had he gone through life blissfully unaware of it all? His close brushes with death suddenly made sense. Somehow, he had always managed to keep from blowing himself up, or scarring himself as so many others did in their line of work. He had thought at the time that he was just highly competent…now, he wasn’t so sure.
“It is time,” Lewis said, opening the doors into the small library. “Is there something amiss? You look…well, you look rather Friday-faced. Pluck up, lad. It is your wedding day!”
“I know,” Gilbert sighed, and placed the letter down on a table. “The old man says I…”
“So you know? Jolly good.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me? That was a rotten thing for you to do, Lewis. You shouldn’t have let me go blithely along not knowing something of such great importance.”
“You need to understand how I viewed you having that bit of magic in your blood. There are a lot of things I have learned in life, Gil. First of all, my magic has been both a blessing and a curse. Many times throughout the years, I have bemoaned what I am. I thought…I thought the greatest gift I could give to you…was…” His breath hitched in his throat, and it looked to Gilbert as if it would pain his old friend to continue.
“Blissful ignorance, eh?” Gilbert snorted. He couldn’t hold onto his anger toward Lewis forever. Already, he could feel it fading away into nothingness. That
was the problem with him—he was unable to hold grudges. Granted, he could hold a grudge against Sir Hugo for eternity.
“Aye. Do you hate me for it?” Lewis asked tremulously.
“I could never hate you, Lewis. You get on my bloody nerves sometimes, aye, but hate? No. You are my brother in arms. We have been through hell together, and come out the other side. No…we are all stuck with each other. Forever. I am the last of our little group to be married. I wonder what the future holds for those members of the Angels of Death that are still forging their way in this world alone. We Angels are all brothers in arms, and it is time that some of them return to England.”
“And what shall you do about your brother by blood?” Lewis asked softly.
“Lord Wisdom won’t die, if I don’t embrace him as a brother. I am not ready for that large of a step yet. You have to crawl before you can walk, don’t you?”
“I suppose,” Lewis said haltingly. “But you cannot ignore him forever. He won’t let you. He is a tenacious little bugger, and he is going to cling to this for all he is worth. He was an only child. He wants to know what is it is like to have a brother. And, I daresay, you don’t want to make your beloved little brother angry. His sort of a temper tantrum could bring down a house.”
“Surely, he will allow me the time I need with my new wife. Hope comes before anything else.”
“Oh, aye. He will at that. He isn’t one of those cold emotionless nobs. He and your father actually have hearts, and part of your father’s heart has been broken since he had to send your mother away.”
“Lewis, you are a nob.”
“I know,” Lewis sighed. “Soon I shall be calling them toffs. I think Freddie and Felix have started to rub off on me. Imagine that,” he chuckled. “Whatever you do, do not tell them I said that to you, they will remind me of it for the rest of our lives.”
His Candlemas Hope Page 18