Violet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  Brandon’s search of the wardrobe was abruptly halted. He turned on his heels to face his daughter. “Your new mama?” he asked carefully. “What do you mean, Clara?”

  “She’s nice. And she let me sit in bed with her.”

  Brandon was stunned. It had never occurred to him that Clara would have been aware of differences in the behavior of her mother and Shannon. Apparently she had decided she very much liked the changes. He was uncertain if Clara fully understood that the “nice” woman was not Rory.

  Clara’s bottom lip trembled. “She fixed my kite. Where is she? Why did she go? Doesn’t she like me?”

  Brandon lifted Clara off the bed. “I think she likes you just fine, poppet,” he said, carrying her back to her own room. He did not add that Shannon did not have the same regard for him. “I don’t know where she’s gone, but I promise I’ll find her.”

  “And bring her back.”

  Brandon hesitated before answering. “I don’t know if she’ll come, darling.”

  Clara squeezed her father’s neck as she was lowered onto her bed. “Tell her I want her back,” she whispered against his ear. “I like her.”

  Brandon nodded and gently removed Clara’s hands from his neck. “I’ll tell her. Go to sleep now.” He kissed her brow and wiped her tears with the cuff of his nightshirt. He did not leave the room until he was certain she was asleep.

  Cody was stumbling in the front door as Brandon hurried down the stairs. He rubbed his eyes, not crediting what he saw as he slouched drunkenly in the open doorway. “What’s this, Bran? Have you taken leave of your senses? Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I’m surprised you noticed.” He shrugged into the vest he had been carrying over one arm and tugged at each of his boots. “It appears you lifted a few.”

  Cody grinned sheepishly, brushing back an errant lock that fell over his forehead. “More than a few. Deuced better company in town, Bran. You’re no fun anymore. Couldn’t tell you sober.” He straightened with grave dignity and crossed the foyer, then lost his poise and leaned against the newel post. “It was bad enough before, but now that she’s back”—he cocked his head toward the upper floor—“hell, you’re miserable. Couldn’t stand it any longer. Had to get out for a while.”

  “She’s gone, Cody,” Brandon said tersely.

  Cody’s eyes brightened considerably, and he would have let out a whoop of joy if Brandon hadn’t clamped a hand over his mouth.

  “I’m going to find her.” He released his hand slowly. “If you can sit in a saddle, I would appreciate your help. If not, then put yourself to bed.”

  Cody was finding himself sobering rapidly. He was not certain he appreciated it. There was a certain amount of comfort in the fogginess of his senses. “Dammit! If she’s gone, let her stay gone! I’d say good riddance to the bitch myself if—”

  “Stuff it!” Brandon retrieved his three cornered hat from a hook at the entranceway and started out the door. “It’s not Rory who’s gone. It’s Shannon.”

  Shannon? Who the hell was Shannon? Cody pushed away from the post and ran after his brother, slamming the door in his wake. “What are you talking about?” he called, lengthening his stride to catch Brandon. “Who the devil is Shannon?” He had an urge to pull at Brandon’s sleeve and stop him in his tracks but doubted that he would be effective in his present state. “Who is Shannon?” he repeated as they reached the stable.

  Brandon yelled for one of his grooms who slept at the back of the stable and lighted a lantern. “She’s someone I knew before I met Rory.”

  That meant nothing to Cody, but Brandon was not forthcoming with more details. He massaged his temples in bewilderment, then shrugged and helped Brandon gather the tack. The sleepy groom attended them in a few minutes and finished saddling two mounts. Cody kicked his horse into step beside Brandon. Someone had clearly trod beyond the bounds of reality, and Cody was not pointing a finger at himself. “Bran, what are we doing? Who in the devil is it that’s gone?”

  “It’s Shannon, I told you.”

  “Yes, I know that,” he responded patiently. “But how am I to help if I’ve never met her? Did she come to the folly after I left for town?”

  “She’s been here all along.”

  Cody tried again, taking a calming breath. “Your wife’s been here.”

  “No. It wasn’t Rory. It was Shannon.” He paused in his vigilant search of the countryside. The lantern he carried illuminated the hard planes of his face, and he glanced sharply at Cody. “I do not understand it myself. The resemblance is nothing short of astonishing. But it is Shannon Kilmartin who stepped off the Century, not Rory.”

  “It’s one of Aurora’s tricks.”

  “I thought so at first. But I believe Shannon is telling the truth about never having met Rory. Shannon is not skilled at dissembling.”

  “Are you seriously telling me the woman you rescued from the river is not Aurora?”

  “That is precisely what I am telling you. And it’s not the first time I’ve pulled Shannon from the water.” He urged his horse to a faster gait along the road, and his eyes continued searching the bordering wooded land.

  “And you met her before you met Aurora?” Cody asked, a nebulous thought forming in his mind. “In England?”

  “Yes. Briefly. At Glen Eden. Her father was the vicar on Eric’s estate.”

  “Interesting,” Cody murmured under his breath. Then, suddenly, “My God, Bran! I have something for you. Glad you spoke of the earl. Jogged my memory.”

  “What are you going on about?” he bit out, the last of patience spent.

  Cody dropped the reins to explore the pockets of his coat. He looked very pleased with himself when he finally extracted a small packet. “This!” he said, handing over the neatly tied packet. “It came today on the Eagle. I’ve been carrying it around. Sorry. It’s the earl’s stamp, isn’t it?”

  Brandon placed the lantern between his legs and turned the packet over in his hand. A sense of foreboding filled him and he paused slightly before slipping off the string and tearing the oilcloth cover open. After a cursory examination, he tossed a leather pouch filled with gold sovereigns in Cody’s direction, then laid open the pages of the letter. His expression was bleak as he read the four-page missive. He would not let himself refine on Shannon’s fate if Clara had not persisted searching for her mother at the docks. It was enough to know that Shannon would have made her living on her back in some waterfront brothel. There would have been no other employment for a murderess. When he finished reading, he folded the vellum and put it in his vest pocket. “She was telling the truth,” was all he said.

  Cody wondered at the despair in Brandon’s voice. “It concerns Shannon?”

  “Yes,” he said heavily. “It explains her presence on the Century.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. It is not for me to say.”

  “Interesting,” Cody said softly, musing on the reason for Brandon’s reticence.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He was glad Brandon did not choose to look in his direction, else his grin would have been a dead giveaway of his thoughts. It intrigued him more than a little that his brother had made Shannon’s acquaintance before he met Rory. It meant something, he was sure of it. He pocketed the pouch. “How long have you known Shannon’s identity?”

  “Only since this afternoon. You have only to listen to her speak to realize she is not Rory.” And see a certain softness in her eyes that Aurora never had, or watch an innocent smile tug at her lips. He did not mention these things. “I was not very kind to her,” he added as a distant afterthought.

  “I can imagine,” muttered Cody. “You were rather unapproachable today. I suppose Shannon is the explanation.”

  Brandon shrugged. “I do not know how to deal with her.”

  “Surely she’s given you a way out,” Cody goaded. “Let her go, Bran. It would seem it’s what she wanted.”

  “I can’t.�
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  “Why?”

  “Clara asked me to bring her back.”

  “Oh. Then by all means you must find her.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s as simple as that.”

  “No. Yes! It’s as simple as that.” He scowled. “Leave it, Cody. Exercise your eyes instead of your mouth.”

  Cody was not so foxed that he missed the threat in Brandon’s words, but he was unconcerned. Whistling softly, he applied himself to locating the mysterious Shannon Kilmartin.

  They had covered more than a mile before Cody spoke again. “What makes you sure she’s come this way?”

  “I’m not. But I doubt if she’d venture taking a skiff.”

  “I suppose not. She seems to have difficulty with water. How long has she been missing?”

  “I’m not certain. Clara found her gone when she sneaked into her room. That was not long before you came home. Shannon was in her chamber when I went to bed, because I heard Martha coaxing her to take a headache powder. She can’t have more than a few hours start on us, she’s on foot, and there is only one road.”

  “But two directions.”

  “This is the way to Williamsburg and Jamestown.”

  “You and I know that,” Cody pointed out with irrefutable logic. “Even Aurora knows that. But does Shannon?”

  Brandon pulled up the reins. “Damn!”

  “Exactly. If we don’t come upon her in this next mile, then I suggest we backtrack.”

  Brandon agreed, not even suggesting they split up. For reasons he was unwilling to examine too closely, he wanted to find Shannon himself. They rode a little farther than a mile before they turned around because Brandon did not want to abandon the route too quickly. The return to the folly was done with speed, and Brandon saw light, much to his dismay, coming from a number of rooms. He waited at the end of the drive while Cody rode up to the house to discover the reason for the late night activity.

  “She hasn’t come back, Bran,” Cody said when he returned to his brother’s side. “Clara’s up. She woke Addie and told her what happened. Addie went for Martha. Seems everyone knows about it now, but they don’t know what they think they know, if you take my meaning.”

  “I’m trying not to,” Brandon said with a trace of disgust. “I thought I left Clara soundly asleep. I suppose she’s talking about her new mama.”

  “So that’s what she was going on about,” Cody said with sudden realization. “I’m afraid I couldn’t make her out. Poor poppet. She’s sobbing as if her heart is breaking. Don’t worry. There’s plenty of comfort going around.” He hesitated. “Does that mean she knows about Rory and Shannon?”

  “I know she suspects something. Let’s go. You take the lantern for a while.”

  Cody relieved Brandon of the lantern and kept abreast of his brother as they tried the alternate route from the house. After three miles he was ready to abandon the search but said nothing to Brandon. He could not ever recall Brandon looking so…so intense. His thoughtful regard of his brother dissolved when Brandon pointed to a fleeting shadow among the trees.

  “There! Did you see it?” Without waiting for Cody’s reply, Brandon nudged his mount to a gallop. He was alighting to the ground by the time Cody caught him. “Keep the lantern high, Cody.”

  Cody dismounted and followed Brandon on foot into the woods. He stopped short when Brandon halted and bade him listen. After a moment when he heard only the sound of his own breathing, his ears caught the same thing Brandon had. It could have been an animal, but Cody didn’t think so. “This way,” he said, and they started off again in the direction of the intermittent thrashing.

  Shannon’s sleeve caught on the underbrush and she struggled to release it. The prickly branches defied her efforts as if they were a living thing. Her breath caught on a sob as she finally tore free and continued her flight away from the road.

  Why was he following her? she wondered wildly. He wanted her gone; it was evident in the way he had spoken to her. Yet she knew without a doubt it was Brandon Fleming who was coming after her. She did not think she had mistaken the profile of his large frame on horseback.

  Shannon tripped over a fallen log and landed on her hands and knees. She heard a voice say, “This way,” and she scrambled to her feet, fear lending her strength. Rushing through the undergrowth with no sense of direction to guide her, Shannon glanced behind her to make certain she kept the lantern light at her back. She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding so loudly that she thought it would surely burst in her chest. Her legs trembled and her hands shook, but she forced herself to keep going. The approach of the light was relentless, a constant reminder that she could not hope to outrun her pursuers. The back of one hand covered her mouth to stifle the terrified sob that rose in her throat. She stumbled again, this time on a loose root, and fell flat out on the hard ground. It was like drowning, she thought, trying to breathe when her lungs would not take any air. She rolled into a thicket, curled into a tight ball, and squeezed her eyes shut. Childlike, she thought if she could not see them, they might not see her.

  Brandon stopped Cody by placing his hand on Cody’s shoulder. “I’ve lost her. Can you hear anything?”

  He was quiet a moment, frowning when he heard only the normal night sounds. “She came this way. I’m sure of it.” He took a few steps forward and tripped ignominiously over the same root that had caught Shannon. He managed to stay upright, but the lantern fell from his grasp and rolled toward Shannon’s hiding place.

  Neither man said a word as they stared at the crouched figure in the underbrush. Cody, for the first time, acknowledged to himself that the woman in question was not Aurora. If Brandon’s wife had fled, she would not have worn a plain day dress, devoid of lace or ruffles. She would not have braided her hair or donned a mobcap. The clothes were Aurora’s, all right, but the one time Cody had seen Aurora in them was when she wanted to mock Brandon for bringing her to the folly and expecting her to share in the running of it. They were her slave clothes, she had told Brandon.

  Brandon remembered the clothes as well, and his mouth tightened. Shannon had chosen the simplest dress in what remained of Aurora’s wardrobe, and even then he doubted she had ever worn anything as fine as his wife’s castoffs. He regarded her tightly closed eyes and her pale, dirt-smudged face, and felt his own lips relax until the semblance of a smile pulled at the corners. “You can open your eyes, Miss Kilmartin,” he said, hunkering down beside Shannon. “You’ve been found.”

  Cody listened with undisguised interest to the soft coaxing in Brandon’s voice. Clearly his brother had some feeling for the chit. It was much the same tone he used to lift Clara’s spirits, but Brandon would have to be mad to regard Shannon Kilmartin as a child. She was very much the image of Rory Fleming, and Rory was certainly no child.

  Shannon shrugged off Brandon’s hand when he touched her shoulder, but she opened her eyes. The lantern light blinded her vision, and Brandon thoughtfully picked it up and handed it to Cody.

  “Come out,” Brandon cajoled. “We’ll take you back to the folly.”

  Before anyone could guess her intention, Shannon shoved Brandon away, scrambled to her feet, and began running. She had only gone a few yards when Brandon’s arm, as firm as iron, slid around her waist and brought her up short. She was turned in his arms and her mobcap fell unnoticed to the ground. She was too angry for tears, and they only shimmered in her violet eyes. Beating uselessly against the hard wall of Brandon with her fists, she railed at him. “I won’t go back! I won’t!”

  “I’m not giving you a choice,” he said, not unkindly.

  “You don’t believe anything I’ve told you,” she said, still struggling to be free of him. “But it’s true, I swear it.” A dry hiccup punctuated her statement, and the yellow light illuminated the tide of embarrassment that pinkened her cheeks. She lifted her face and stared at the solemn strength of the one above her. There was a hint of laughter in his eyes, and it was the end of enough for Shannon.
She renewed her onslaught, pouring out her anger with clenched fists and flailing feet until she slumped, exhausted, against him. “You don’t understand. You don’t! He did arrange for my passage. I would have hanged otherwise. Dear God! Would that I had!”

  Brandon gave her a little shake. “Do not speak so.”

  Tears finally fell, leaving streaks amid the dirt that dusted Shannon’s face. “I can’t go back. Not where I’m not wanted. Not again.” Her head bowed and the top of her dark hair rested against Brandon’s shoulder. “I’m so tired of not being wanted.” She sobbed brokenly and felt the hands that held her loosen slightly and reposition themselves. Where once they had been a prison, they now offered comfort. “So tired.” With no warning Brandon lifted her in his arms. Shannon was too exhausted to respond with more than token resistance. Her head lay in the crux of his shoulder, and she wept softly against his chest.

  The dark slashes of Cody’s brows were raised well above his eyes as Brandon turned and motioned him to lead the way out of the wood. As he retraced their path to the horses he assured himself he would wake from his drunken stupor and find himself in a bed above Redheart’s tavern, his face pressed firmly in the musky depths of a whore’s breasts. It was the only explanation that made any sense. He devoutly believed he had never left Annie Jones’s side.

  He went through the motions of assisting Shannon onto Brandon’s saddle, thinking the only way to recover from this dream was to play it out. Surely it was not the same Brandon Fleming who had professed to want nothing further to do with women who was holding this particular woman with such infinite care. Only blue ruin could account for the things Cody was seeing now: Brandon’s face buried in the dark cloud of Shannon’s hair; Brandon’s voice trembling as it soothed and comforted.

  Cody stood on the open road, alone and, it seemed, forgotten, holding the lantern at his side. For a moment he simply stared after his brother as Brandon kept his mount to a comfortable walk, then he grinned. There was no one to restrain his joyous whoop this time, and his swelling laughter startled his horse. Cody blew out the lantern, swung into his saddle, and followed his brother’s trail. It was suddenly clear to him, as clear as the pinpricks of starlight through the inky curtain of night. Shannon Kilmartin was the one love of Brandon’s life. He wondered if his brother realized it; then, more gravely, he wondered if perhaps Aurora hadn’t known it as well.