She bolted upright in the bed. Pain shot through her head. She doubled over and pressed the heels of her hands to her temples and groaned.
“Gabriella?” A comforting hand rested on her shoulder.
She turned her head and peered through half-opened eyes. “Florence?”
Florence sat by her side. “Yes dear, I’m here. How do you feel?”
“I’d have to feel better to die.” She groaned again. “Am I dying?”
“No, darling, you’re going to be fine.” Florence shook her head in a chastising manner. “You were really very lucky.”
“Yes, well I don’t feel lucky.” She gingerly lifted her head and sat up slowly. “What happened to me?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I don’t seem to remember anything at the moment.” Save the insidious fog and flames and Rathbourne. “What…”
“There was a fire at the house. You and Mr. Harrington—”
“The seal.” She groped for the memory. “We found the seal.”
“Indeed you did.”
“And the fire.” She remembered the heat and the smoke and the fear. Her throat ached almost as much as her head. “And Nathanial.” She caught her breath. “Is Nathanial—”
“He’s fine,” Florence said. “There isn’t a scratch on him.”
Relief washed through her.
“Do you remember going back in the house?”
“Going back…” She drew her brows together. She remembered a sense of urgency…She shook her head carefully. “No.”
“You went back in the house to get your mother’s letters.”
“Did I?” Gabriella murmured. “How very foolish of me.”
“Yes, it was,” Florence said firmly.
She remembered now, some of it, most of it. “And did I? Find the letters?”
“Yes, you did.”
“I can’t imagine why I would,” she said under her breath. It made no sense to her now. Still, she did recall the feeling of urgency. “When…”
“The fire was three days ago. You have been asleep since then. You have needed it and you continue to need it.” Florence nodded. “Complete rest is what the doctor said and no excitement.”
Excitement was the last thing she wanted, although the throbbing in her head had subsided somewhat. “Where is Nathanial?”
“He is not here right now and that’s none of your concern at the moment. No excitement, remember.” Florence’s voice softened. “He has been quite concerned about you.”
Gabriella settled back against the pillows and managed a slight smile. “Has he?”
“Indeed he has,” she said with a smile of her own, “and you shall see him as soon as you are up to it.”
Gabriella plucked at the covers. “I feel up to it now.”
“Nonetheless, it’s not advisable,” Florence said in the no nonsense manner Gabriella recognized. There would be no getting around her on this point. Probably. Florence rose to her feet. “What you need now is something to eat. Broth and tea and toast, I should think.”
“I am hungry,” Gabriella murmured. A thought struck and she widened her eyes. “Three days did you say?”
Florence nodded warily.
“Then the Verification Committee ends its meeting tomorrow. I have to—”
“You have to do nothing at the moment but rest.” Florence’s look left no room for argument. She paused. “The doctor left something for the pain in your head and to help you sleep.”
“I don’t want it.” She shook her head gently. “The dreams…” She shuddered. “The pain in my head is nothing compared to the dreadful dreams. No, I shall do without it.” She forced a smile. “I do feel much better.”
Florence considered her carefully. “Very well, then. I shall be back in a minute.”
She took her leave, and Gabriella rested against the pillows. It was all coming back to her. Discovering the dead viscount, hearing how her brother had died, finding the seal, the fire, the letters…
Nathanial was safe and he had the seal. She glanced at the window. It was already afternoon. Still, she needn’t worry, there was time. She closed her eyes and blew a long breath. Nathanial had the seal and all would be well. He would make certain of it.
She dozed on and off through the day but by early evening her mind had cleared considerably. Where was Nathanial? Florence seemed particularly evasive and finally refused to discuss Nathanial at all save to tell her that she needed to avoid excitement, which meant avoiding Mr. Harrington. It was a most convenient excuse, and Gabriella had stopped asking. Once, when Florence was out of the room, a maid came in to bring fresh linens. Gabriella had asked her to fetch Nathanial, but the maid said that Master Nathanial had left the city. She’d had no more information that that.
Where was he? Where had he gone? He had the seal. Surely he realized the meeting was to end tomorrow at noon. What if he didn’t make it? What if he didn’t come back at all? What if he had gone off to find the lost city himself?
No, she told herself, firmly trying to thrust the disquieting thoughts aside. She trusted him completely. Nathanial would never betray her like that. He would never betray her at all. It was simply the circumstances and her own suspicious nature that made her wonder otherwise.
But as the day wore on into evening and night, dread curled inside her. She wanted to trust him. No, she did trust him. Surely wherever he was, whatever he was doing, it was a matter of importance. He would never abandon her. She knew that, not merely in her mind but in her heart.
Nathanial Harrington was the one person in the world she could count on.
Still, as she fell into a restless sleep that night a voice in the back of her head nagged at her.
What if she was wrong?
Twenty-nine
This was the final day.
The thought struck Gabriella the moment her eyes opened. She threw off the covers and slid out of bed. The ache in her head was nearly gone, and certainly no reason to stay abed. Was Nathanial back? A glance at the window told her it was already late morning. Damnation! She pulled on her wrapper, swept out of her room and stepped across the hall to his door. She paused, then turned the handle and stepped inside.
“Nathanial?” She crossed the sitting room to his bedchamber. His bed was untouched. Surely it had already been made up. Unless, of course, he hadn’t slept in it last night. Where was he? Not that it mattered. She trusted him.
She hurried out of his room. She should dress, it was most improper to wander about the house in her nightclothes, but it couldn’t be helped. At this particular moment propriety was not uppermost in her mind. She sped down the corridor to the stairway and fairly flew down the stairs, where she met the butler’s startled gaze.
“Andrews,” she said without preamble. “Have you seen Mr. Harrington? Nathanial?”
“Not today, miss.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No, miss.” Andrews shook his head. “I have no idea where he is at the moment.”
She huffed. “What about his brother?”
“Which brother, miss?”
“Any brother,” she snapped.
“Neither Master Quinton nor his lordship are at home, miss.”
“And Lady Wyldewood.” She raised a brow. “Has she vanished as well?”
“I would not say she has vanished, miss. But no, she is not at home. Lady Regina, however, is still abed,” he added in a helpful manner.
She gritted her teeth. “So is no one else home?”
“Miss Henry and Mr. Dennison are in the library, miss.”
“That’s something, at any rate,” she muttered, and headed toward the library. “Thank you, Andrews,” she tossed back over her shoulder.
“You are quite welcome, miss.”
She flung open the library door and stormed into the room, interrupting what looked to be a discussion of a somewhat intense nature between Florence and Mr. Dennison. “Where is he?”
Florence ros
e to her feet, Mr. Dennison a scant beat behind her. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I feel fine, perfectly fine,” she snapped. “The only thing that would make me feel better is knowing where Nathanial is.”
“Quite honestly, Gabriella.” Florence met her gaze directly. “I don’t know.”
Gabriella’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Dennison?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say, miss.”
“Can’t say or won’t say?”
“At this moment, Miss Montini, I have no idea where Mr. Harrington might be.”
Gabriella’s gaze shifted back and forth between Mr. Dennison and Florence. “I don’t believe either of you.”
“Nonetheless, we are not lying to you.” Florence’s lips pressed together in a disapproving manner. “You do realize you are not appropriately dressed?”
“I had other things on my mind,” Gabriella said sharply. She paused and drew a deep breath. “I am going to my room now to dress appropriately and then I am going to the Antiquities Society in hopes that Nathanial has brought the seal to the committee.”
Florence and Mr. Dennison exchanged glances.
“And you are not going to stop me.”
“We wouldn’t think of doing such a thing,” Florence said. “By all means, go to the Antiquities Society. I think it’s an excellent idea.” She nodded. “In fact, Mr. Dennison and I will be happy to accompany you.”
“You will?” Gabriella narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Goodness, Gabriella, will you ever stop being such a suspicious creature?” Florence huffed. “First of all, it would be entirely improper for you to be unaccompanied. Secondly, as perfectly fine as you may feel, I am not especially confident that you will not collapse at any moment. And third…” She paused. “I’ve been with you at the beginning of all this and I’d rather like to be with you at the end. Now, do put on some proper clothing and we shall wait for you here.”
“Excellent.” Gabriella nodded, turned, and started back to her rooms. She knew she shouldn’t be annoyed at Florence, and in truth she wasn’t. She could trust Florence. As she could trust Nathanial. And as long as she kept saying that to herself, she could keep this mounting sense of doom at bay. After all, he’d done nothing to earn her distrust. Not yet. She dashed the thought from her mind. Leaps of faith, Gabriella, she told herself firmly. Leaps of faith.
It was well past noon when they finally arrived at the Antiquities Society building. The Verification Committee had adjourned and the annual general meeting would begin in a few minutes.
The moment she realized they would be too late, a heavy weight had settled in the pit of Gabriella’s stomach. Still, it was not yet time to give up. She spotted Mr. Beckworth amidst the crowd milling in the corridors and hurried toward him, Florence and Mr. Dennison hard on her heels.
“Mr. Beckworth,” she called.
“Gabriella.” The director addressed her with a concerned smile. “I heard about the fire. Nasty business. Are you all right?”
“Perfectly fine, thank you. Mr. Beckworth…” She held her breath. “At the Verification Committee meeting, did Mr. Harrington present my brother’s seal?”
“I am sorry, my dear.” Sympathy shone in the older man’s eyes. “I haven’t seen Mr. Harrington since I met with the two of you in my office.”
“I see,” she said slowly. A terrible sense of defeat and disappointment washed through her. Despair caught at her throat. Still, she preferred not to let it show. She managed a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Beckworth.”
“As you are already here, I assume you will be joining us for the general meeting.”
She shook her head. “I’m not actually a member of the society.”
“I know that, my dear, but it seems to me you usually attend the meeting.” Mr. Beckworth smiled. “In the upstairs gallery, of course, with the other ladies.”
“I don’t think—”
“Of course she will,” Florence said in a gracious manner. “She wouldn’t think of missing it.”
“Excellent.” Mr. Beckworth nodded and took his leave.
“Come along.” Florence hooked her arm through Gabriella’s and steered her toward the stairs that led to the observation galleries. “If we don’t go now, we won’t find good seats.”
“I have no desire to observe the meeting,” Gabriella said, but allowed Florence to lead her up the stairs nonetheless.
Mr. Dennison had disappeared, but then why should he be any different from anyone else today? In truth, she had no desire to do much of anything at the moment. It was as if she had stood out in the cold for a very long time and was now numb to the touch. She dimly understood that this feeling would fade and leave in its stead despair and anger. He had failed her. She’d trusted him and he had failed her. And in an odd way, she still did trust him. Perhaps because when she fully realized that she was wrong to do so, her devastation would be complete. And she was not yet prepared for that.
They managed to procure seats in the front row, right behind the railing. The meeting would begin any minute. There was some sort of activity, apparently outside of the doorway near the dais. Florence leaned closer to the railing to see what was happening. Gabriella stared ahead unseeing. It simply didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save this awful ache that was growing inside her, somewhere near her heart.
“Well?” Nate stared at his brother.
Sterling chuckled. “It’s hard to turn down a request from the Earl of Wyldewood.”
“Excellent.” Nate breathed a sigh of relief.
Mr. Dennison hurried up to them and nodded. “She’s in the gallery. It was an excellent idea to put this part in the hands of Miss Henry, sir.”
“I shall have to thank her later, and you as well.” Nate turned to Quinton. “And?”
“Here.” Quinton thrust a thin open book at him. “These are the rules of the society. I’ve marked the one you want.”
“Thank you.”
“You should thank me,” Quinton replied. “It goes against everything I believe in to look at rules of any kind.” He cast his brother a reluctant grin. “One for the other.”
Nate returned his grin, acknowledged Sterling’s nod of support, and stepped into the room.
The director took his place behind the podium, banged his gavel, and called the meeting to order. The room quieted. Mr. Beckworth began the way he always began, welcoming the members, and then droned on, the way he always droned on, at the beginning of any meeting. Gabriella had rather enjoyed it in the past. Even in the gallery it was as if she were truly a part of it all. As if she belonged.
She tried to focus on his words, tedious though they might be. Anything to keep from thinking her own thoughts.
Beckworth paused. “This year we have had a most unusual request, but as it comes from the Earl of Wyldewood…”
The announcement caught her attention. Florence nudged her. “Are you listening to this?”
“Yes,” she murmured, and stared at the dais. What on earth was going on?
“The board has agreed to allow Mr. Nathanial Harrington to address the assembly. Mr. Harrington.”
The director stepped aside and Nathanial took his place, a sheaf of papers and a small book in his hand.
Nathanial?
“Good day, gentlemen. I am most grateful to be allowed the opportunity to speak to you this afternoon,” Nathanial began.
Gabriella stared in shock. What was he doing? She leaned closer.
“According to the rules of the Verification Committee, an artifact presented and rejected can only be presented again before the end of the next year’s meeting. Exceptions can be made only under extraordinary circumstances.” Nathanial’s voice rang out over the gathering, strong and confident. “I believe this particular case meets that criteria.
“Last year, Enrico Montini had in his possession an Akkadian cylinder seal. The carvings on that seal included symbols for the lost city of Ambropia and the Virgin’s Secret.”
/> Murmurs of interest washed through the crowd. Gabriella’s heart lodged in her throat.
“Unfortunately, it was stolen from him and he lost his life attempting to reclaim it.” Nathanial’s gaze rose to the gallery and found hers. “It has now been recovered thanks to the courageous efforts of Miss Gabriella Montini, but unfortunately too late for this year’s committee meeting. According to the rules of this august institution…” He paused and glanced down at the book on the podium. “The general assembly may, through a simple majority vote, call for the reconvening of the Verification Committee. I urge you to do so now.
“Aside from the unparalleled historical importance of the seal, it is to be donated to the society, thus its validation is especially important. In addition,” his gaze again met hers, “I propose it be known from this point forward as the Montini seal, in recognition of the man who brought it into the light of public knowledge and the woman who risked all to return it to us. Thank you.” Nathanial nodded and left the dais.
“Most unusual,” Mr. Beckworth said, retaking his position. “We shall vote on that proposal at the end of the meeting when we vote on other matters. And now turning to the…”
She stared in shocked disbelief. Blood roared in her ears. Her heart thudded in her chest. Nathanial hadn’t betrayed her. He hadn’t abandoned her. How could she have doubted him? Even for a minute?
“Come along.” Florence got to her feet. “We must be going.”
Gabriella stared at her. “What?”
“Come along,” Florence said firmly, took her arm and urged her to her feet. “Now.”
Gabriella was fairly certain she was putting one foot in front of the other but had no knowledge of doing so. One minute they were in the gallery, and the next in the downstairs corridor.
The Virgin’s Secret Page 30