Violet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  “It is probably just as well that you remain here.”

  “That is your final answer, then?”

  “I’m afraid so, Aurora.”

  Aurora sighed. “Very well. I suppose I could find something to read.” She glanced at the selection of books on the library shelves without enthusiasm. “Or mayhap you would show me some of your embroidery and teach me a few stitches. I could learn to cultivate patience. Did our mother do much needlework? I imagine that is where you learned. Michaeline was very good, too, but I spent most of my time with Papa. He loved to take me riding and fishing and swimming. Not a very conventional upbringing, I admit. It’s probably one of the—”

  Shannon smiled unhappily. “Your chatter is very wearing, Aurora. But I think you know that.” She put aside the hoop. “How long would you want to ride?”

  “A few hours, no more.”

  “And you will not leave me behind?”

  “I promise. Shannon, I could ride alone if I truly wished to. Who would stop me? It is in deference to Brandon’s wishes that I haven’t done so. It really would be a pleasure to have you along. Your conversation is infinitely more desirable than Sam’s or Aaron’s.”

  “All right.” She sighed, giving in. She looked at her sister sharply. “But just for a few hours. I have other things which require my attention.”

  Aurora showed her approval by clapping her hands together once and nearly leaping from the chair. Taking Shannon by the wrist, she pulled her to her feet. “Come, then. I’ll find something suitable for you to wear in my wardrobe.” She shook her head disparagingly as she examined Shannon’s gray wool day dress. “You can’t ride properly in that.”

  “I can’t ride properly at all,” Shannon reminded her as she was firmly taken in hand and led out of the library. “I don’t think it matters what I wear.”

  “That only shows how little you know,” Aurora said firmly, unwilling to be gainsaid. In her bedchamber Aurora rifled her wardrobe, examining, then discarding, a number of garments before she settled on an outfit for Shannon. “Here,” she said, tossing a few items at Shannon. “Try these things on. I think you will find the split skirt much more comfortable than what you’re wearing now.”

  Shannon held up the heavy black wool skirt in front of her and glanced in the mirror. In style and cut it was similar to the skirt Aurora was wearing except it lacked the border of silky black embroidery around the waistband. “The waistcoat and jacket, also?” she asked, juggling them in front of her so she could see how they would look.

  “Certainly. I regret I don’t have another hat.”

  “That’s all right. This is more than generous.” She grinned at her reflection a little ruefully when she realized that she only had to see her own sister to know how she would look. Save for Aurora’s fashionable hat and her scarlet vest, they would appear the very image of each other. “Give me a moment and I’ll join you at the stable.”

  Before she left, Aurora rang for Emily to help Shannon dress. Feeling rather confident that she would be able to take Shannon anywhere on the grounds she wanted, Aurora was exceptionally patient with the grooms who readied the mounts. She would not permit herself to dwell on the purpose of her actions. She told herself it would be a morning ride like any other, that her motive for giving Shannon the clothes was to help her ride comfortably. And when the thought of Parker waiting for them in the woods intruded on her thoughts, Aurora remembered that Brandon had loved Shannon first, that her husband had never truly been faithful to her, and that as her rival, Shannon deserved what Parker had planned. She was hardly aware of her own refusal to acknowledge the importance of her role in Shannon’s fate.

  Shannon returned Aurora’s welcoming smile with one of her own. She could not help noticing how regal Aurora’s bearing was when she was seated on Pilgrim. She looked as if she was ready to accept the accolades of her courtiers, and indeed, the grooms were hovering about, waiting to do her bidding. “Have I kept you long?”

  “Not at all. Aaron, give Miss Shannon a leg up.”

  “Thank you, Aaron,” Shannon said, accepting his help and studiously avoiding the warning that flashed in his dark eyes. Anthem pranced nervously once Shannon was in the saddle.

  Aurora grinned. “Take command, Shannon.” Aurora showed her how to hold the reins. “Like this. Don’t jerk on them. Talk to her a little; acquaint her with the sound of your voice.”

  Feeling a trifle silly, Shannon nonetheless followed Aurora’s directions, and Anthem ceased her restless dancing. “I think we should be on our way before Anthem remembers who’s on her back.”

  Aurora nodded, giving Pilgrim a light snap with her riding crop. “We can ride along the riverbank.”

  Shannon frowned as Anthem matched Pilgrim’s gait. “I thought we might take the road. I shouldn’t like to be thrown in the river.”

  “Don’t give it a thought,” Aurora said airily. “Has Anthem thrown you before?”

  “No, but there is always the proverbial first time. I can’t swim to save my life or anyone else’s.”

  Aurora laughed. The scarlet plume in her hat swayed as she dipped her head beneath a low-lying branch. “What different lives we’ve had,” she mused softly. “Sometimes it does not seem possible we are sisters. Do you ever wonder what it would have been like had we been raised together?”

  As the trail narrowed, Shannon held Anthem back so Aurora could lead the way. The air was crisp, nearly frosty, and Shannon could see her breath when she spoke. “No,” she said, then added more honestly, “On occasion I think about it, though it seems a pointless exercise.”

  “Yes, I know. We are what we are.” A dry, curling leaf fell on her skirt and she brushed it away, glancing over her shoulder. “Tell me, if you were me, would you give Brandon the divorce he seeks?”

  Shannon’s interest in the bright foliage surrounding her vanished as she squarely met Aurora’s probing gaze. She was deaf to the sound of the water skimming along the bank, hearing only Aurora’s stiffly asked question. “It isn’t possible for me to answer that. I’m not you, Aurora. You must do as your conscience dictates.”

  “Pooh!” She dismissed Shannon’s statement with a wave of her hand. “I said if you were me. Think on it. What would you do?”

  “This is fruitless.”

  “Humor me.”

  Shannon shook her head. “You have never mentioned once that you love Brandon. Why is that, Aurora?”

  Aurora held up Pilgrim as the trail widened again. She said nothing until Shannon came abreast of her. “I don’t believe that love has anything to do with wanting to keep my marriage intact. There is Clara to think of, and I must consider what will happen to me. I will be ostracized.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “You don’t understand. It is a matter of what society will tolerate. It was all very well to be Parker’s mistress. It was scandalous, but at least I was desirable,” she explained, perfectly serious. “No one will want me if I am Brandon’s divorced wife.”

  Shannon’s eyes widened at her sister’s shameless reasoning. “No man, you mean.”

  Aurora was not at all offended by Shannon’s dry tone. “Precisely.”

  “You could return to your parents. They’re lovely people, and they want nothing more than your happiness.”

  “If that were true, then they would have tried to stop Brandon. Yet they did nothing except desert me when I needed their support.”

  Shannon wanted to avoid an argument, and she believed that defending the Marchands would lead to one. She sought to change the subject by pretending renewed interest in the route they were taking. “Where are we going? I don’t believe I have ever been this far from the folly.”

  “We haven’t even gone beyond the folly’s boundaries yet. I thought we’d ride north for a while, to David French’s property. He’s the folly’s nearest neighbor and one of Bran’s friends. Besides, I didn’t want to give Anthem an open field. I don’t know how she would respond if Pilgrim would break.�
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  “Thank you. That was kind of you.” Shannon was grateful for the path Aurora had chosen because it was less likely that Aurora could leave her behind. Apparently her sister intended to keep her promise to stay close. She was less certain that she wanted to meet any of Brandon’s neighbors, and wondered if Aurora had another reason for this particular route. “Aren’t Cody and Brandon somewhere around here?”

  Aurora shrugged indifferently. “I don’t think so. Did they mention where they would be hunting?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Shannon admitted.

  The path forked and Aurora chose the trail that wound away from the river. Brilliant patches of sunlight dotted the path, taking the chill off the breeze.

  Of necessity they rode single file again, and Aurora feigned interest in the landscape while she surreptitiously searched for some sign of Parker. They rode in virtual silence for more than a mile, occasionally commenting on some oddity of nature they saw. The quiet that Shannon found so restful set Aurora’s teeth on edge.

  “Why did you never mention that you met Brandon in Glen Eden?” Aurora asked suddenly.

  Shannon was taken aback, but it didn’t occur to her to prevaricate. “I thought you might make more of the meeting than there was. I did not want to hurt you. How did you learn we met there? Did Brandon tell you?”

  So Parker was not mistaken. It helped Aurora harden her heart to the task at hand. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me about it. Was it then you fell in love with Brandon?”

  “No,” she said truthfully. “I did not even like him then. He was arrogant and commanding and had little regard for anything but his own pleasure.” She hesitated. “Are you certain you want to hear this?”

  “Quite certain. It hasn’t the power to hurt me now. I have honestly admitted I don’t love my husband. But the fact that you do has me curious. I wonder what draws you to him.”

  Briefly Shannon described her first acquaintance with Brandon, detailing her fall in the brook and Brandon’s rescue. “Much against my will, he and the earl escorted me home. I did not thank them for it.”

  “Your stepfather wasn’t pleased?”

  “Not in the least,” Shannon said succinctly.

  “Did he beat you?”

  “Yes.”

  Aurora nodded slowly, distracted in part by the odd tug of sympathy she felt for her sister. Neither Paul nor Michaeline had ever struck her. She could not imagine how she would have responded in Shannon’s place. “Why didn’t you fight him then? Hit him back?”

  “I couldn’t,” she said simply. “I thought I was at fault, that any punishment he meted out was deserved.”

  “It could have been me,” Aurora said softly, wonderingly. “Had you ever thought of that?”

  “No. And I have never wished that it were you instead of me. I could not wish that on anyone.”

  Aurora believed her. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

  Shannon started, blinking in surprise at the question. “Of course not. Did you think I did?”

  “I should hate me if our positions were reversed,” she said candidly. “I have had every advantage, while you were most foully abused. I wanted for nothing while growing up, and my parents loved me to distraction.”

  “I had the love of one parent,” Shannon reminded her gently. “Anyway, you are speaking of jealousy or envy, not of hate.”

  “And have you been jealous of me?”

  Shannon shook her head, the movement faintly sad. “No, Aurora. I’ve never been jealous.” Her lips lifted in a reluctant smile even when she saw her sister’s bewilderment. “Would you feel better if I said I envied you?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “But why? What do you have that I should want?”

  “Brandon.”

  One of Shannon’s eyebrows arched. “Do you have him?” she asked quietly. “Do you really?”

  * * *

  Parker lay crouched on a narrow ridge, hidden behind a grouping of rocks. He was propped up on his elbows and held his loaded musket in his hands. As he had done several times this morning, he fixed the weapon, making a target of the knot in a gnarled tree trunk nearly fifty yards away. Satisfied his aim was true, though he dared not test it, Parker relaxed, laying the musket down.

  He turned on his back, crossing his legs at the ankles and covering his eyes with his forearm. God, he thought grimly, how tempted he had been to pick off Brandon when he and Cody had passed in front of him not much above thirty minutes ago. It would have been so simple, but hardly satisfying, and therefore he had restrained himself. Brandon’s death alone would not give him the revenge he sought. It was more important that Brandon know something of the humiliation and pain Parker believed he had suffered all his life. Shannon’s death would provide the pain; prison would be the humiliation. Then, and only then, would Parker be assured that he had carried out his promise to his mother and that his place at the folly, through Aurora, would be secure.

  Even if his mother had not asked it of him, he would have proceeded no differently than he had. The folly was rightfully his. Bastard or no, he was the first son—or should have been. William Fleming might have been an amoral gentleman of means, but Parker believed he had loved Hannah Grant. It was not possible for him to believe otherwise. Why else would William permit Hannah’s presence in his home and give leave to his wife to become a virtual prisoner in her own chamber? And if William loved Hannah, it must follow that he loved Parker above his other sons. That William had not left the folly in his care, Parker blamed on Brandon. William’s only legitimate son had poisoned his mind against the bastards. Brandon wanted everything for himself. He had bought off Daniel, Steven, and Jake. Eventually he would remove Cody from the folly.

  Parker’s lip curled to one side in disgust and derision. He had tried to explain Brandon’s plan to his brothers often enough, but they wouldn’t hear a word against Bran. Fools. The lot of them. Not that Parker minded. With the exception of Cody, they had been driven from the folly and cleared the path he had marked for himself.

  He turned over on his stomach again and lifted his head so he could see over the ridge. Aurora and Shannon were not in sight, but he could hear them coming. It wouldn’t be long before they narrowed the gap between themselves and Cody and Brandon, who were on foot. Parker cautioned himself to be patient. It must appear possible that either Brandon or Cody could have made the shot. Knowing what he had to do, Parker jumped gracefully to his feet and began tracking his brothers while Aurora drew Shannon more deeply into the trap he had laid.

  * * *

  “What’s that over there?” Cody asked, jerking his chin to the left to indicate where he saw the movement.

  “I didn’t see it.” Brandon looked at his brother archly. “For God’s sake, lower your rifle until you know what it is. This is Davey French’s land we’re on now. Wouldn’t he be happy if you shot him between the eyes?”

  Rather sheepishly Cody did as he was told. He slipped his musket over his shoulder and continued walking at Brandon’s side. “The game is scarce,” he noted for the third time that morning. “We should have shot that first buck we saw.”

  “And where was the challenge in that? We sighted him nearly the moment we walked into the woods. I thought you wanted a hunt, not an easy target.”

  Cody shrugged. The fringe on his soft leather shirt swayed. “I really wanted some time alone with you,” he admitted, looking away from Brandon, the tips of his ears reddening. “I leave in three weeks.”

  One corner of Brandon’s mouth lifted in a smile at Cody’s embarrassment. “I know why you suggested this outing. I would have done if you hadn’t.” He paused, studying Cody’s profile. “Are you certain you cannot wait until after Christmas to leave? Oh, hell, I promised myself I wouldn’t ask. Forget I brought it up.”

  Cody kicked at a few leaves with the toe of his butter-yellow moccasins. “Perhaps if Rory weren’t here, Bran, I could bring myself to postpone accepting Paul Marchand’s invitation until after the New Year.
With things as they are now, I’m anxious to be gone from the folly. I might even be sailing to England before Christmas.”

  “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t have distinguished myself studying law.” He stopped abruptly, holding out his hand to prevent Brandon from going forward, as something moved in the bushes ahead of them.

  Davey French stepped from behind a tree to block Brandon and Cody’s path, chuckling at the clear relief in Cody’s rueful smile. “It’s a certainty neither of the Flemings will distinguish themselves as hunters. Only time I hear so much jabber is when my wife and her friends are quilting.”

  Brandon laughed, extending his hand to Davey. It was swallowed immediately in the older man’s beefy grip. Even when he clenched his fists, Davey French didn’t have knuckles. “Good to see you, Davey.”

  Davey grinned, showing two rows of uneven teeth. His lower lip bulged with a chew of tobacco. He spit and offered his hand to Cody. “Let’s feel your handshake, stripling.” He took Cody’s hand and squeezed. Hard. “Not too bad. Might be that you have the makin’s of a man.”

  Cody shook out the bones in his hand when Davey released it. “You old reprobate,” he said, not unkindly. “What are you doing here?”

  “As far as I can tell, it’s my land. If you two had game, I’d think you were poaching.”

  “Playing lord of the manor, Davey?” asked Brandon. No one in the Tidewater paid much attention to property lines, and Davey was no exception.

  Davey threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. His large frame shook. “Not bloody likely.”

  Cody grinned. “Do you want to join us? Bran will tell you it’s safer. I almost shot you a while back. At least I think it was you. You shouldn’t skulk behind trees.”