by Music Box
Clearing his throat, Thane glanced around the room, warmed by the anxious expressions he saw, from Mrs. Darcey’s furrowed brow to Mrs. Fife’s drawn mouth, from Thomas to Averley and even to Couling, whose impassive features were now troubled, taut with concern.
“I visited my aunt at Nevon Manor this morning,” Thane continued. “It seems that Gabrielle’s sleepwalking episodes have worsened and her fragmented memories of the fire have become clearer and more distinct. Evidently, when she awakened in the storage shed that night and saw the flames blazing about her, she overheard two men shouting, crying out for help, before she stumbled across the room and made her way to safety. Judging from the proximity of those voices, I suspect the men were trapped either in the coal room or the woodshed. Do any of you recall one of your colleagues heading in that direction prior to the fire?”
Silence.
“Please think hard. Your answer could help Gabrielle understand what she was inadvertently subjected to that fateful night—in addition to her grief at losing her parents and her helplessness at being unable to prevent their death. I was away at Oxford at the time, so I’m of no use in recounting specifics. All of you, however, were here. So try to remember. Did any one of the servants who perished in the fire strike out toward the coal room or mention his intention to do so?”
“Dowell.” It was Thomas the groom who spoke up, abruptly naming the man who had been Whitshire’s head gardener at the time of the tragedy.
Thane whipped about to face Thomas. “Dowell? Are you sure?”
“Positive, sir.” The groom nodded vigorously. “I’d forgotten about it until just now when you asked your question. I guess I was so shaken up by that night that I did my best to block out any memory of it. But Dowell was definitely in the coal room. I passed him on his way there. I was heading toward the stables, just a half hour or so before the fire broke out. Dowell seemed very distracted, lost in thought. I asked him if he was all right, and he said he was fine but needed to get going because he had business to take care of before he went to bed. I remember looking back over my shoulder when I reached the stable door. I saw him going into the coal room, probably to borrow one of the shovels that were stored in there. So if Miss Gaby heard someone calling out, it could very well have been Dowell.”
“He was alone?”
“Yes, sir. All alone.”
A frown. “Did you see anyone else—before that, perhaps?”
Thomas puckered up his face, thinking.
“Pardon me, Your Grace, but Thomas was no more than a lad when the fire struck,” Couling interjected. “Surely he can’t be expected to remember every detail of an event that occurred thirteen years ago.”
“People often remember details surrounding a tragedy,” Averley countered thoughtfully. “Broken images become ingrained in the mind, along with the horrors of the event itself. So it’s not surprising that Thomas’s memory of what happened just before the fire is so vivid. I myself shall never forget that night.” A sorrowful pause. “None of us will.”
“Thank God you spotted the flames when you did,” Thane reminded Averley, with a wealth of gratitude. “Otherwise I shudder to think how many more people would have died.”
“I’m thankful I was in the right place at the right time,” Averley replied. “But as to your question …” He pursed his lips. “I too recall the minutes preceding the fire. I was making my way back from the tenants’ quarters. A handful of people were still about when I neared the service wing. I remember seeing Thomas, as he just told us, crossing over toward the stables. I didn’t see Dowell, but I did spot two or three footmen heading toward the carriage house and a maid leaving the dining quarters on her way to bed. Do you think that information might be helpful?”
“The way the service wing was constructed then, the carriage house was just past the coal room and the woodshed,” Thane mused with a nod. “So it’s possible that one of the footmen you noticed came upon Dowell and stepped inside to speak with him, then became trapped by the flames.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Do you recall which footmen in particular you saw?”
Averley frowned. “Not offhand, Your Grace. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m asking you to think back thirteen years. Furthermore, this entire avenue I’m pursuing is still pure conjecture. But it is a start.” Thane’s gaze darted from one servant to the next. “I want all of you to keep racking your brains to see if you remember anything more. In the meantime, I’ll pass the information you’ve just given me on to Lady Nevon. She’s extremely worried about Gabrielle.”
“We all are,” Mrs. Darcey inserted, wringing her hands.
“You’re right—we are,” Thane agreed. “I don’t know what’s prompting Gabrielle to remember all these terrifying details at this particular time, but we’ve got to try to uncover the cause of her sleepwalking. Should any of you recall anything of consequence, please let me know immediately.” Thane dismissed the staff with a fatigued wave of his hand. “Thank you, Thomas, Averley. Thank you all. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.”
The staff filed out as pensively as they’d arrived. On the surface, nothing had changed.
But the pernicious seeds had been planted.
Moonlight filtered through the window of Bryce’s bedchamber, illuminating the slowly moving hands of the mantel clock.
Three o’clock.
There would be no sleep tonight, he realized with a resigned sigh. Despite his weariness, his thoughts simply would not permit him to rest.
He folded his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling and reviewing the events of the day.
His business with Banks had gone as well as could be expected. The poor man was still in shock, and the request Bryce had made of him was both tedious and time-consuming. It would also be painful, given that it necessitated sorting through Delmore’s papers so soon after his death. Nevertheless, Banks had agreed, just as Bryce had anticipated, if for no other reason than to ensure he’d done everything he could to unearth his partner’s murderer. Now all Bryce had to do was wait. After which, with a modicum of luck, Banks would provide the documents Bryce needed to either substantiate his theory or silence his qualms.
His visit with Lucinda had been a good deal more difficult.
Not that she’d made a scene. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d listened patiently, accepted his decision with her customary grace and dignity, even wished him well when she bade him good-bye.
All of which had made him feel like a cad.
It hadn’t eased his guilt to hear himself insist on taking all of the blame for the way things had turned out. After all, that was nothing more than a truism, given it was he and not she who had changed. Nor had it helped that she didn’t shout out accusations or shed a tear when he explained the feelings he’d developed for Gaby, feelings he felt compelled to mention, given his plans for the immediate future.
What had helped was Lucinda’s response when he told her who Gaby was.
“I don’t understand,” she’d said, her expression genuinely baffled. “The woman you’ve come to care for is that waif Lady Nevon took in? Bryce, are you sure you know what you’re doing? What in the name of heaven do you two have in common? You’re a renowned barrister, on your way to being the youngest barrister ever to become Queen’s counsel. She’s a sheltered provincial girl whose only frames of reference are an eccentric old woman and a houseful of peculiar servants. I know the depths of your compassion, but please try to remember that taking someone on as a cause is quite different from taking her on as a … a … romantic companion or, even worse, something more permanent. Dear Lord, Bryce, consider your future, your reputation.”
Never had Bryce been more aware of the stark differences between himself and Lucinda than at that very moment.
Two weeks ago her speech would have enraged him.
Now, thinking of Gaby, the beauty she’d brought to his life, Lucinda’s speech succeeded only in inspiring pity.
&n
bsp; “I am considering my future,” he’d replied with absolute candor, “quite clearly and carefully. The very fact that you can ask me those questions is a perfect illustration of why, even if Gaby were not involved, you and I could never build a life together. We simply see things too differently. Perhaps we always have.” A tactful pause. “Let’s leave it at that,” he’d concluded, scooping up his coat. “Feel free to tell people this parting was your decision. Not that it matters. You’re well aware that you have many admirers, all of whom will leap at the opportunity to take my place in your life. An hour after you make the announcement, you’ll be bombarded with invitations from men far better suited to you than I.” He’d managed a cordial smile. “I wish you the best, Lucinda. Truly I do.”
She’d nodded, still looking utterly baffled. “I wish you the same.”
You needn’t, he’d thought silently. I already have it.
On that uplifting thought, he’d taken his leave and gone home.
Well, not truly home, he corrected himself. A temporary stopover, cold and impersonal compared to Nevon Manor.
Gazing up at a patch of moonlight that danced across his ceiling, Bryce smiled, thinking of what Gaby’s reaction would be when he flourished the two gifts he meant to take with him—gifts he’d be picking up at midday tomorrow. He had already arranged for the more significant one. Oh, he’d had to exert a fair amount of influence to obtain it on a day’s notice. But one of the advantages of being a well-established barrister was knowing enough influential people so that when, at times like this, he needed to expedite a bureaucratic process, he could manage to do so. Unwilling to accept defeat, Bryce had put forth his case and had gotten a positive—actually, a good-natured—response. Thus, the paper he sought would be signed and ready just after noon.
Which left the morning hours to purchase Gaby’s second gift: tickets to the symphony.
He could hardly wait to brandish them before her delighted eyes, share her jubilation.
Sharing. That was an act he’d never have deemed himself capable of taking part in, much less yearning for. The truth was that, after thirty-one years, he’d all but convinced himself that the only one he could truly count on in life was himself, that anyone else was transient and could vanish at any moment. His skepticism was understandable even to him—given his childhood, the knowledge of his father’s abandonment. Still, he’d truly thought himself a loner by nature, a practical, logical man whose career was his life.
It had taken Gaby to prove him wrong. Gaby, who had shown him both the impulsive, lighthearted side of himself and the passionate, emotional side of himself—a man with more dimensions than he’d ever imagined.
A man capable of a deep abiding love.
Gaby. God, how he missed her.
Bryce rolled onto his side, punching his pillow and closing his eyes. Eager for the night to pass, he tried focusing on mundane issues, such as the paperwork he needed to finish up before he headed back to Nevon Manor.
That didn’t work. Instead, he found himself wondering what Thane had learned at Whitshire and, more importantly, if Gaby was resting peacefully.
An uneasy feeling told him she wasn’t.
Thane’s note arrived at Nevon Manor just before lunch the next afternoon.
Chaunce delivered it directly to the sitting room, where Hermione and Gaby were sipping tea and chatting about the future—an attempt by Hermione to keep Gaby from dwelling on what had turned out to be yet another unsettled night.
“Does Thane say if the servants remembered anything?” Gaby asked, pushing aside her saucer and watching her aunt scan the letter.
“Yes, he does.” Hermione cleared her throat and read aloud the detailed account of what had taken place at Whitshire the previous day.
“Dowell. He was the head gardener at the time.” Gaby frowned. “Could he have been one of the men I overheard?” A dull throb began vibrating inside her head, and, resignedly, she massaged her temples. “This is so frustrating. Last night I had two more sleepwalking episodes. Each time I awakened, I was able to envision the shed and all my activities as clearly as if they were unfolding before me. Yet when it came to the rest, all I could remember was what I remembered with Bryce: the terror in the men’s voices and that sickening smell of fire.”
“The memories will come back to you,” Hermione assured her, folding the letter and slipping it into the side-table drawer. “Besides, Thane has only just begun this crusade. He intends to reconvene his staff again soon. You know how badly they want to help. Eventually something conclusive will emerge. In the meantime”—Hermione tossed her a mischievous smile—“tonight Bryce will be home.”
Gaby’s entire face lit up, just as Hermione had hoped. “I know. I can scarcely wait.” She leaned forward. “Do you think he’ll ask to speak with me right away?”
A chuckle. “I don’t think you’ll give him a choice.”
The joy on Gaby’s face faded a bit. “Do you think I’m being too obvious?”
“No, darling. You’re being you. And that’s precisely who Bryce fell in love with.” Hermione gave a delicate cough. “There is something we haven’t discussed, something I’d like to bring up, if I may.”
An impish grin. “You needn’t worry, Aunt Hermione. As I told Chaunce, Bryce has more self-control than I. He’s been a complete gentleman—too much so, if you ask me.”
Hermione dissolved into laughter. “That isn’t the issue I intend to broach, but I’m relieved to hear Bryce is so restrained in his ardor. For now,” she added. “But I suspect that will soon be a thing of the past.”
“Is making love wonderful?” Gaby asked with her customary directness.
“For you and Bryce, it will be—yes.” After thirteen years Hermione was unsurprised by Gaby’s straightforward manner, which, given her limited exposure to the outside world, had remained uncluttered by artifice or shame. “When the time comes, it will be everything you’re dreaming of and more.”
“I doubt it could be more. My dreams are extraordinary.”
Another chuckle. “Let’s leave that to Bryce, shall we?”
“All right.” Gaby sighed. “I just wish the hours between now and evening would fly by.” A questioning pucker formed between her brows. “If intimacy isn’t the issue you wanted to discuss, what is?”
“The guardianship. Bryce told me he mentioned my plans to you. Are you very angry with me?”
“Not for selecting Bryce, no. I was upset that neither you nor he chose to include me in the conversation you had concerning my future, but Bryce made me realize you were only trying to protect me.” Gaby leaned forward, seized her aunt’s hands. “I have two additional replies to your question. First, you needn’t worry over my future, or anyone else’s for that matter. You’re going to be with us forever. I intend to see to it. And second, please stop trying to shield me. I’m a grown woman now, Aunt Hermione, not a little girl. I’m strong enough to share your problems and your plans, just as I’ve shared your love for our family—and our mutual determination to shelter them.”
Tears filled Hermione’s eyes. “We’ve done a good job at that, haven’t we?”
“The best.” Gaby’s smile was watery. “Then again, that’s not a surprise. You are the best.”
“I quite agree.” Chaunce stood in the doorway, nodding his approval at Gaby’s statement. “Pardon me, ladies, but Lily has advised me that Master Crumpet has once again escaped from his warren. She and Jane are combing the gardens, but I’d prefer they not venture into the wooded areas alone. Shall I ask Bowrick to relieve me at the door and go with them?”
“No, thank you, Chaunce.” Gaby rose to her feet. “I appreciate your offer, but I’ll assist the girls.”
“I wonder if that’s a wise idea.” Chaunce frowned. “You didn’t sleep a wink last night and—”
“Chaunce,” Gaby interrupted, “as I just said to Aunt Hermione, you must stop worrying about me.” She gazed lovingly from Chaunce to her aunt and back again. “I love you
both with all my heart, but I’m not a child anymore. It’s I who should be helping you, not the other way around. I realize I’m going through a difficult time, and you’re concerned about me. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your caring and support. But let the truth be known, I feel horrible about the fact that my sleepwalking compels you to spend your nights standing guard outside my bedchamber door, and all to protect me from myself. So please, for my sake, relinquish that role during the day, when it’s totally unnecessary. All right?”
Hermione nodded, smiling through her tears. “All right.”
Gaby leaned down to kiss her aunt’s cheek, then crossed over and stood before Chaunce. “You’d best recover your strength,” she said softly. “I suspect that after Bryce asks me his important question, I’m going to have an equally important question to ask you.” With a tremulous smile, she rose on tiptoe, pressed a kiss to Chaunce’s jaw. “I hope you won’t refuse me. You are, after all, like a father to me—the only father I’ve known for thirteen years.”
With that, she hurried off to search for Crumpet.
Hermione dashed the tears from her cheeks. “She really has grown up, Chaunce. Just now, watching her, listening to her speak, it struck me in a rush. I’m sure you think me foolish for crying, but I find this whole situation wonderful and painful all at once.”
When Chaunce didn’t answer, Hermione looked up, inclined her head in his direction.
There were tears glistening in his eyes.
It was nearly three o’clock.
Bryce was halfway to Nevon Manor, his carriage moving at a rapid clip, the gifts he had chosen for Gaby tucked carefully in his pocket.
Abruptly, that feeling struck.
It was the same feeling he’d had last time, the nagging sensation that he was needed.
Only this time it was stronger. Stronger and more specific.
It wasn’t just anyone who needed him. The person who needed him was Gaby.