by Death
"And one day later there is no injury to be seen."
I shrugged. "It's the way I've become."
His eyes briefly lighted. "Magic?"
/ couldn't help but smile. "Why not?"
Bathed, shaved, and decently dressed: such are the things that mark us as civilized creatures. I was looking very civilized before Jericho gave me permission to leave.
They were all waiting in the parlor. Cousin Anne was serving tea. It might have been the same as any other evening at home except for the way they looked at me with the unease in their faces. It wasn't nice to see, and I was trying to think of a graceful way to excuse myself without seeming rude.
Father saved me the trouble by stepping forward. "Come, Jonathan, I've some things to tell you. No need to bore everyone. The rest of you carry on as you are."
A ripple went through them. Their faces all seemed strangely alike, blurred and blank, even Elizabeth's. Father took my arm and led me away to the library. He closed the door.
It was warm there. A fine big fire was blazing, merry as New Year. I was no longer cold, but the memory of it drove me to the hearth to hold my hands out to the flames. The heat baked my skin, soaked into the bones. Father moved up behind and came around, standing next to me. Watching.
"This feels very good," I said, uncomfortably conscious of his gaze.
He made no comment.
"You had some things to tell me, sir?" I prompted.
"When you can look me in the eye, laddie."
It was painful for some reason I didn't understand. Like looking into the sun. His face was as blurred as the others. I tried blinking to clear my sight and was shocked when tears spilled out.
"I'm sorry," I blurted.
"For what?"
"I... don't know."
"1"wasn't your fault, laddie."
I nodded and glumly swiped at my leaking eyes with both hands. It was stupid, so very stupid of me to be like this. I wheeled from the fire and threw myself on the settee. Snuffling. Father sat next to me. After a minute he put his arms around my stiff body and got me to relax enough to lean against his chest. Like a child. Thus had he comforted me as a child.
"You're all right, laddie," he told me, his voice husky with his own tears.
That's what broke it. That's when I gave out with a breathy hiccup and truly wept. He held me and rocked me and stroked my hair and never once told me to hush, just kept doing that until I was able to stop. I finally sat up, blindly fishing for the handkerchief Jericho always left in one of my pockets. Father had one ready and put it into my hands. I blew my nose, wiped my eyes, and suddenly yawned. "Sorry."
"Don't be," he said genially. "How did you know?"
"When you came into the parlor looking like a drawn rope about to snap, the possibility occurred to me. I've seen it before and it's no good trying to bury it. How do you feel?" "Not so drawn."
He saw that for himself well enough, but was reassured to hear it confirmed. He went across to unlock his cabinet and poured out a bit of brandy, then locked up again. The habit had ingrained itself in him in such a very short time. He sat facing me in his favorite chair, the firelight playing warmly over his features.
"Well. Can you tell me all about it now?" I could. And did.
It was easier than the previous tellings. I didn't have to pretend to be brave. I didn't have to lie. So very, very much easier it is to be able to tell the truth. I left out one thing only: the part about drinking Drummond's blood. At the time it had been my survival, but here in the light and peace of my favorite room, it seemed unreal, even monstrous. I was not comfortable about it-especially the fact I'd enjoyed the taste so very much-and was not prepared to offer such a burden of knowledge to my dearly loved father. He had more than enough troubles on his mind.
When I was done, he looked me over from top to toe and again I seemed to see myself through his eyes. There was worry there, of course, for my well-being, but I appeared to be strong enough to handle things now. There was also relief: that I was safely home and if not totally undamaged, then at least able to recover from it. "We've got the other fellow, Knox," he said. "Nash put him into that blockhouse he had built last fall."
"Will there be a hanging?"
"I don't know. The man keeps saying he's a soldier and thus a prisoner of war. Said he was doing his duty right and proper before his capture."
"Oh? And just how does he explain the ransom note he thought he was delivering?"
"Denies it ever was a demand for ransom. Claims he was given to understand it was a request from you to ask for help getting home. The other men had captured you by mistake and he'd come to fetch a horse to bring you back. He volunteered to risk capture himself in order to do you a good turn. Very aggrieved, he is."
"Has he convinced Lieutenant Nash of this tale?"
"What do you think?"
My answer lay in my return expression and we both had a short, grim laugh.
Father sipped his brandy, then sighed. "Tomorrow Nash will take him 'round to Mrs. Montagu's home for her and the servants to have a look at him. There are a few other places in the county to go to as well if she can't identify him. He had no commission papers-"
"A hanging, then."
"Quite likely."
Silence fell upon us, lengthened, and was so complete that I was able to hear to the distant kitchen where Mrs. Nooth was supervising the dumping out of my bathwater. Things were quiet in the parlor by comparison, just Norwood talking low, though I couldn't make out the words.
"Is Nash still out looking for me?"
I'd interrupted whatever gray thoughts had been floating between us. "What? Yes, 1 suppose he is. And in the wrong place. We were miles from where Beldon and Lord James said they'd found you. Oh, well, it'll do him good. He wants the exercise and if he shakes up a few rebels, all the better."
"What made you break off from him and come home?"
"You. I trusted what you said in your note about trying to escape. Worked out that you'd have to find shelter for the day, but you'd come home as quick as you could after dark. Thought I should be here to check, to see if I was right, and I was. Didn't expect that you'd hole yourself up like a badger in a burrow, though. Very ingenious, laddie."
"More like very desperate. Wish it'd been warmer, but if it had, then I'd have been without cover altogether."
"That had me worried, that you'd be out in some open area for anyone to stumble over. Knowing what you're like during the day, I'd feared you'd be taken for dead. There'd be misunderstandings, rumors-"
"Me having to influence everyone all over again." I shuddered. "No, thank you."
Father chuckled.
And I thought of something. "Do you think Nash would let me talk to Knox?"
"To what purpose?"
"I should like to get the truth from him."
He frowned for a time, knowing exactly what I meant. "A confession from him will mean his death for certain, Jonathan."
"At this point I think that's a foregone conclusion."
Another frown. More silence. Then, "Very well. A gift you have and a gift you should use. Let its use be for finding the truth. Besides..."
He trailed off; I urged him to continue.
" 'Tis only because I hate to admit it to myself, but I've a streak of vengeance in me. If he's one of the bastards who caused Mrs. Montagu so much distress, then I'll want to be there at dawn to put the rope 'round his neck myself."
Father finished his brandy and asked if I was up to facing the rest of the household.
"Only if there's no fuss. I've had enough to last me for months."
He could make no guarantee against that, but said I could leave whenever it became too much.
This second attempt to rejoin their company was more successful. The pale blurs were gone. Their faces were faces once more.
Thank God.
Elizabeth broke away from Norwood and came over to slip her arm around mine. "You had us so worried," she told me.
Apparently worried enough herself that in her relief she forgot all about Mother. I shot a glance in that lady's direction, but she wasn't reacting to us at all. She wore her usual joyless expression, nothing more. Well, I suppose it was preferable to one of her insane tirades. She hadn't had one of those for a while, certainly not since the night I'd "talked" to her. Perhaps she was building up to one. I hoped otherwise.
"Yes," said Cousin Anne. "Very worried. It must have been horrid for you."
This was about the fourth time tonight she'd expressed that sentiment. I'd heard the other three when I'd been soaking in the tub. I laughed now, more freely than I thought myself capable of, and assured her I was fine.
Her eyes lingered on me. There was a touch more depth to them than before. I wondered if that was from her own growth from this unpleasantness or because we'd shared a few kisses. Perhaps both. I smiled, took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze to say everything's all right. She tossed her head slightly, smiling back.
Elizabeth made me sit in a comfortable chair and Anne asked if I wanted some tea. I accepted a cup with lots of sugar and pretended to sip, but it was easy to avoid drinking when all the questions started flowing freely once more.
Mrs. Hardinbrook had a strong interest in what the men had been like and what they had said.
"No words fit for a lady's ears, ma'am. Indeed, some of them made me blush." This raised a laugh.
Lady Caroline wanted to know why I hadn't come home right away if I'd made my escape so very early that morning.
"Truth be told, I wasn't in the best of condition. A tap on the head and all that rattling around in the back of a wagon for the worst part of fifteen miles-I was fair exhausted. I found a deserted shack and simply fell asleep for the day."
Norwood was curious as to whether the men had given away any clues about where they'd come from.
"Connecticut, for certain. Knox told them to take to a boat if they saw any trouble coming. I expect they're there now, probably sitting in some rebel hostel and telling a very different version of this story."
More laughter.
"But we'll find out the truth tomorrow," I added.
"How so, sir?"
"I'm going to have a little talk with Knox."
"To what purpose? The man's lied his head off from the moment he was taken."
I shrugged to show that that wasn't my fault. "I think he'll be truthful enough once he sees my face. Remember, he thinb I've been killed by his friends and no one the wiser. When I walk in on him the shock will turn him around, I'm sure."
"That should be interesting," said Beldon. "May I come along and observe this miracle?"
"I should welcome your company, Doctor, but would prefer a private interview with the fellow first."
He graciously accepted the sense in that.
"May I come as well?" asked Norwood.
This must have been how Nash felt when, like it or not, the lot of us had decided to go along with him to Mrs. Montagu's. There was no good reason to refuse, though. But Father was coming, and I trusted he would help if any difficulty arose.
"But tomorrow," put in Lady Caroline. "Mightn't it be rather soon for you? You really ought to rest a few days."
"I'd go tonight if I thought Lieutenant Nash would be there."
"You're in such a hurry?"
"There might be a chance to catch the other men once this one starts talking."
"But you just told us they'd be in Connecticut by now."
"True, but it doesn't mean they'll stay there. If they return, it would be very useful to know where and when and be ready for them."
"Good heavens, yes," said Mrs. Hardinbrook. "Why, they might even come here next, looking for revenge." She seemed to find that idea to be both alarming and fascinating.
I found it to be simply alarming.
Norwood bristled a bit. "They could certainly try, but they'd have the surprise of their lives if they did. Right, gentlemen?"
He got general assent for an answer. I went along with the others to be sociable. Norwood's interest in encountering excitement had bemused me before; now it had become something to bite my tongue over. I'd had my share and then some, and knew it for a fool's wish. A nice quiet life was all I desired. I wondered why, if he was so keen to find adventure, he did not join up with Howe's army. Certainly there must be a place for titled volunteers wishing to serve their king. I could only think that he was reluctant to leave his sister on her own. Then there was Elizabeth. If he loved her as I loved Nora, then running off to play soldier would be the last thing on his mind.
But I was fairly sure that he was a bit envious of me. He questioned me over and over about what had happened, eyes shining as he searched out every scrap of information from my memory. He was welcome to it, though I found no real charm in any of my talk. Perversely, the more I touched on the negative aspects of it, the more solid his admiration became.
It was flattering, in its way, but wearing. He had no idea of the true cost to me. To have strangers come in and attempt to destroy your life for their own gain is at best frightening, at worst, shattering. Father understood the hurt my soul had suffered, Norwood did not.
No, I thought, Lord James Norwood was better suited for something "safely" dangerous, more along the lines of riding to the hounds. There was always the chance of falling and breaking one's neck, but if skillful and fairly lucky, one could return invigorated, content that death had been bravely overcome. However, he could choose to ride or not. I hadn't asked to be kidnapped. That loss of control and choice was the single most important difference between the dangers.
I could not see him going through what I had gone through and still emerge filled with the same sense of naive enthusiasm. Though he was nearing thirty, I wondered which of us was the older and decided it was me. Experience can be very aging.
Elizabeth came over, put a hand on his arm and said, "Really, Lord James, you're positively exhausting my poor brother."
His attention went from me to her with (to my eyes) visible difficulty, but his face smoothly adjusted into a smile for her.
Elizabeth picked up on it, though. "I'm interrupting?"
"Not at all," he said. "And you're right. I'm being an imposition."
We made mock protests and other such talk, then they drifted away to their favorite corner for more private converse. 1 watched them and then with suddenly kindled heat remembered Molly Audy.
With all the other events filling my brain, my discovery of his visits to her had been altogether pushed aside. The incident and my questioning of Molly rolled to the front once more, leaving me flummoxed and fuming over what to do next.
No happy solution presented itself beyond a base desire to break every bone in his body. But, as satisfying as this might prove to be for me, I had to reluctantly admit that what went on between them was not really my business. If she found out, Elizabeth was more than capable of taking care of herself.
If she found out.
/ could not be the the one to tell her. Any interference on my part would be a most unwise and importune course to take.
Still, if he upset Elizabeth with his actions, I'd be there for her. Fists at ready.
The next night, Father, Beldon, Norwood, and I sedately rode into Glenbriar. Father and Norwood had already been there early in the morning to sort things out with Nash. That worthy officer chose not to complain about their tardy report of my return home, for he was still in awe of Norwood's title and wished to present himself in a good light. He managed to do just that by swiftly dispatching himself with a troop of men to the road where I'd been found. They eventually located the hovel where I'd been taken, but the place was bare of rebels. There was a wagon in the barn, but no horses and no sign of a boat. Nash, with his ever acquisitive turn of mind, had confiscated the wagon, then ordered the burning of the house and barn.
"Why on earth did you do that, sir?" asked Norwood with some justifiable mystification. The four of us were with Nash at The Oak, li
stening to the account of his day.
"Because it's one less sanctuary for them to use," he replied.
"But the owner of the property--"
"Was not on the premises. A diligent search was made, I assure you."
"Seems to me," said Father, "that you could have quartered some of your men there."
"Possibly, but I considered it to be too far distant." From the long pause preceding Nash's statement, we could tell he hadn't before now considered the idea at all.