She hoped for success in this. But what little news she had managed to glean on the subject did not bode well for the Carlows. Although the girls had been forbidden to communicate with her, Verity had ignored her brother's command and sent several brief notes, urging her to seek a speedy reconciliation. In Diana's absence, Honoria was growing increasingly reckless. While Diana could not return as chaperone, perhaps the steadying influence of an old friend would be all that was needed to set things right.
It was some comfort that it troubled Nathan as much as it did her, that another family would be thrown into chaos over what he might find. Were it not for his soft heart, he would be no better than the Gypsy. It would do him good to see what she had found, no matter how unpleasant it might be. 'Nathan,' she reached out for his hand from the doorway. 'Come with me. There is something I wish to show you.'
He smiled at her, as he always did, and followed her up the stairs. She felt the warming of her blood as he paused, and she had to tug him past their bedroom door. 'Later,' she whispered.
His eyebrow arched in surprise. 'Of course later. But now is nice as well.'
'Later.'
'If not there, then where are we going? For you are wearing a green dress and you know the effect that it has on me.'
'It is a day dress and not particularly special,' she cautioned. 'And I often wear green because you claim to prefer the colour. If it troubles you, I will change.'
'I'd hardly call it trouble. My feelings on seeing you are most easily remedied. But if you wish to change, I will make a suggestion. You are very fetching in a green dress. But you will be even more fetching out of it.' He grabbed at her, and she wondered how she could have ever feared that he would prefer gambling to a wife and family. His preference for her was obvious. And his enthusiastic attentions made family almost inevitable.
She let him catch her, for a while. Then, she put his hands firmly to his sides and said, 'Definitely later. First, there is something you must see.'
He sighed. 'Your tone is rather dire, my dear. I suspect you have put on the green dress to soften some kind of a blow.'
She gave him a worried look. 'I fear you may be right. But I know it is something that will interest you, and now that I have found it, I must tell you. There are no secrets between us, after all.'
'None,' he assured her.
She led him to the end of the hall, to the stairs that led to the attics.
'And what reason do we have to go here?'
'I got the keys from Benton, and went searching. I thought that perhaps there were things that I remembered from my own youth that might be pleasant to see again.' She tried to sound casual at the suggestion, for she did not wish him to think she was dwelling in a past that she had promised she would forgive.
But he nodded in perfect understanding. 'If you wish to see them, I will not have you traipsing round the lumber room in melancholy. And if you are adamant that you do not wish to redecorate the house...'
'I do not. It is lovely the way it is. And very much in tune with your character.' Perhaps that was why she liked it so. While it was not the home she remembered, it was the haven of the man she loved above all in the world.
He smiled, and there was a glint in his eye that made her think of Christmas. 'Then I fear we shall have to move your heirlooms to a place where you might enjoy them more fully.'
'The country house?' They had honeymooned there. It was just as lovely as Hans Place. And while she enjoyed the novelty of riding or walking through the fields, without seeing a single soul, it seemed very far away from everything she was used to.
He gave a small shake of his head. 'I was thinking, perhaps we could find a cottage. There is a place I know of, in Hammersmith. A few rooms, only. But there is a lovely garden and the deed is already in your name. If you wished to house your treasures there, you might visit them whenever you liked.'
'A cottage,' she said, confused. 'For me?'
'And me as well, if you would allow me there. Or not, as you choose. In any case, it is secured as yours, legal and proper.'
'How did you know?' For hadn't this been exactly what she had dreamed of?
He smiled again. 'Along with my other quests, I have been searching for a worthy wedding gift. And since I know very little about what a proper young lady might appreciate, I might have inquired of my sister, who might have asked the Carlow girls, who seemed to think you would be in favour of the idea. And considering my history, it does make sense, does it not? While I have no intention of backsliding into the gambling rogue that I was, let this gift be proof to you and those that love you that you will never be left homeless because of me.' He reached into his pocket and removed a most ordinary-looking key, which he placed in her hand, closing her fingers to wrap them around it. 'Does it please you?'
She swallowed back tears of gratitude, and threw herself into his arms, kissing him most passionately. And then she whispered, 'As long as there is room enough for the two of us, it pleases me very well.' She dropped the key into her own pocket, and whispered, 'We shall visit it, soon, I think. And when we do, I shall wear green.' And she watched his eyes go dark in response.
'But first, there is something I must show you. And I fear it is not so pleasant as what you have done for me.'
She felt the slightest hesitation in his step, as he followed her. But considering what his life had been, he had no desire to seek more misery, though she was sure he would do it, if she asked him to.
She led him to the back room she'd found and the small trunk under the window with the initials NW carved into the leather at the top. 'In searching for my own past, I have found a part of yours.'
He stopped, staring at it. 'I had thought it lost, after all this time.' He looked at her, worried. 'Do you know what is there?'
She nodded, for curiosity had caused her to lift the lid. 'It is better to face it, is it not? And there are papers.'
'If I wish to prove my father's innocence, then they are all I have.' He smiled at her. 'But I am glad that I do not need to do this alone.' He leaned forward to kiss her, putting his warm arms about her and holding her close so that he could rest his chin against her temple. 'Together?'
'Yes.' And she sat upon the floor beside him, as he examined the little chest.
He stroked the wood, and let his fingers trail along the brass fittings. 'I have not seen this in years. It was all I had left, before I was forced into the Navy. I cannot even remember bringing it to the house. But obviously I did.'
'Benton put it away, when you did not return. It has been waiting for you.'
'I am glad I did not know. But if the thing Veryan wants still exists, then this is the only place I would know to look.
She watched him steel himself, and unlatch the chest.
And there, at the top, was the real silk rope. He put his hand on it again, after all these years. It looked no different to Diana than other ropes. It was black, not the gaudy colours of the Gypsy's imitation that he had shown her. She reached out a finger and prodded it carefully. It was soft to the touch, for it was silk.
Nathan gave her as sad smile. 'As though it would be any better to be hung gently. I wonder if the person that had come up with the plan to hang nobles in silk recognized the irony of it? Or did they seriously think it was a last sign of respect?'
She shuddered. 'It is disgusting, in any case.'
'But better to keep it, than to see it cut into bits and sold to collectors. This is the only entail I was left to offer our children.' He picked it up and set it deliberately aside, so he could get to the things beneath.
There was a loose collar stud in silver, engraved with a small L. A penknife, and pipe. He picked them up, and brought the pipe to his nose to get a whiff of the stale tobacco. 'Father's.' He gave a sentimental smile, and she rested a hand on his shoulder in support.
'And mine.' There was a tiny lead soldier discarded beside them. He picked it up, and put it to the side with the other things.
And the
n, there was a sheaf of paper. 'And this is what we have come to see.' He quickly sorted them into two stacks, by the hand they were written in. 'These are the things written by my father. I do not see anything written by Hebden amongst the rest. I fear our quest is in vain, just as I thought it would be.' He riffled quickly through them. 'I must have read them all at one time, seeking comfort. And I don't recall anything that made me think of a code.' He shrugged. 'Of course, I was very young. Most everything that adults wrote might well have been a code to me, for all that I could understand of it.' He folded his legs, tailor fashion, and piled his father's letters into his lap to read by the light of the attic window.
He was silent as he read, lost in his own past. And there was little for Diana to do, so she contented herself with reading the rest of the stack. It made her heart break to think of the poor little boy who had gathered everything he could find hoping to preserve the few remaining memories of his father. Here was a tailor's bill. And here a note of thanks from a long-ago friend, concerning a weekend of shooting at the Leybourne estate. And then, a note in a woman's hand.
She read. And then said, 'Nathan, this is from Amanda.'
She saw her husband flinch at the name. 'Kit Hebden's wife. You saw the journal. You must know what was said about them at the time. That note will do us no good, if I remember it for what it was. She wrote to him when he was in jail. I think she wanted him to confess. He passed me the letter, and bade me hide it from my own mother, because he said it would distress her. And so, I brought it back to hide amongst my things.'
She gave him an amazed smile. 'That is not what this is at all. But you were a little boy when you read it. You must have stopped after a line or two, then put it away. What did you know of such things? Tell me if you do not see it differently, now.' She held up the paper and began to read.
'"Tell them, William. My husband is dead, and I do not care who knows. There is no reason that you need keep secret what happened between us that night. Not if it means death for you. Kit would not hold it against you, for you know as well as I that he knew the truth and did nothing about it while he was alive. You might think there is honour in secrecy, but if it means that I retain my reputation only to watch you hang, then what good is my honour to either of us?"'
He looked at her, his expression puzzled. And she said, 'Can you not see it, even now? He was with her on the night of the murder. At least the first part of that night. That is why your father was so eager for you to hide this letter. He was trying to protect her, and your mother. And she says that Kit Hebden did not mind. So it was not a crime of passion. Whatever was on your father's mind that night, it had nothing to do with codes or keys or spying. He had no reason to kill his lover's husband. The arrangement suited them all.'
He read the letter again, and she watched the paper shake in his hand. 'You are right. My God, Diana. I think you are.' He looked at her in amazement. 'I don't know what Veryan will make of this, if anything. And I don't know if I dare show it to the Gypsy, for if he has any scrap of love left for his stepmother, then he will not welcome this news. But you are right. Nothing here makes my father out as traitor.'
She smiled. 'And you thought there would be nothing at all.'
He smiled back. 'It is but a scrap of information. But a scrap is more than I ever hoped to find. It is enough to build on, at any rate.' He rose and dusted off his pants. 'And it renews hope in me. My father was innocent, just as he said.'
'And if that is true...'
He squared his shoulders. 'Then whatever people may say of him, I am proud to be his son. I will clear my name, and his as well. And even if it takes me a lifetime, I shall make you the Countess of Leybourne, my dear.' He held out a hand to her, lifting her to her feet again, and led her down the stairs to their rooms.
PAYING THE VIRGIN'S PRICE
Copyright (c) 2010 by Christine Merrill.
North American Publication 2010.
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