Before I could respond he stood again and turned back to his room. Stumbling to my feet, I followed.
Clinging to the door frame, I watched helplessly as he swept up his fur-lined mantle from the floor and swung it around his shoulders. "What are you doing? Milord, you aren't going out? It's after midnight and—"
"Out of my way." Barreling through the doorway, he shoved me aside and said, "As God is my witness, by morning's light I'll have proven that my bitch of a wife has come back. I vow midnight tomorrow will see us both burning in hell!"
Standing in the hallway, I watched helplessly as Nicholas disappeared into the darkness.
"Lunatic!"
Startled by the crone's scratchy voice, I spun to face her. She crouched on the floor in her crumpled muslin gown, holding the candle. Tipping up her pointed chin, she cackled a laugh that echoed throughout the empty rooms surrounding us.
"I warned you, didn't I?" Melted wax dripped over her gnarled fingers as she lifted the light between us. "I warned you he's mad. He were nearly mad when he killed her, and now his conscience has driven him over the edge. Well, I say good riddance! I hope his soul burns in hell."
Stepping forward, I swung my palm across the woman's cheek.
She sagged completely to the floor, her arm thrown up to protect her. "Wicked girl!" she cried out. "Wicked, wicked, girl, I'll see you dismissed for this. You'll pay. Ill see you pay!"
I ran to my room, grabbed up my cloak, and reentered the hallway. Through the darkness I saw a familiar image approaching.
"Gum, wot's 'appenin' 'ere? Lud, you old bitty," Matilda said to Bea, "wot y' doin' on the bloody floor?"
I grabbed Matilda's shoulders. "Fetch help, Tilly. Nicholas has to be stopped." I left her gaping down at Bea.
Exiting the house through the kitchen and pulling my cloak tightly about my shoulders, I entered that dim and misty night, oblivious to the snow that fell fast and cold against my skin. I had but one thought; one fear, and that was Nicholas's safety. Sinking to my shins in the snow, I plodded on toward the stables. Too late. Wyndham came out of the darkness, his booted legs wrapped about his horse's heaving sides, the tail of his mantle flying behind him in the rising wind. The beast nearly trampled me: I threw myself aside and into the snow as he thundered by me.
I called out his name, then scrambled to my feet and ran as fast as the snow and my strength would allow. I ran until my lungs burned and the wind cut my eyes and I could barely see. Until I fell onto my hands and knees and forced my lungs to take one more excruciating gasp of air. Then I climbed to my feet and ran again.
Reaching the bottom of Raikes Road, I noted the tracks veer to the right, away from the village.
"Where is the moon?" I asked aloud. Oh, for one thread of silver light to brighten my path. I lifted my face and searched the sky, blinking away each tiny flake of snow that drifted onto my lashes. "God, give me the strength to see this through," I prayed, then moved on toward the stone and wrought-iron entrance to the cemetery.
Amid the velvet darkness were shimmering relics of angels, their marble wings outstretched. I listened hard, and heard in the intense stillness a scraping noise. There! Beyond that pile of stone overlooking the mausoleum. I forced myself to move. Silence again.
I was certain that each soul who resided here had arisen from his earthly bed to watch me. My temples throbbed painfully. Topping the rise, I searched. Oh! how bleak and void was this desolate acre! How cold!
I tipped my head into the frigid wind, but it drove me backward, stole the breath from my lungs so I was forced to shield my face with my arms to regain it. I struggled forth, slipped, then continued. Onward! My mind bade my numb body to move. And then I saw him. Though horror shook my limbs I roused my rebelling senses and stumbled forward. I could not speak at first. I could not breathe. Throwing myself onto my lord's procumbent form, I struggled to lift his face from the snow.
Wretched fate that had brought my beloved to this! I swept the wet stuff from his eyes and cheek. I rolled him over.
Was he dead? Tearing the mantle from his breast, I pressed my ear against his heart. My hope soared. There was life there yet, thank God. Then I noticed the shovel at his side and the dark, damp clods of brown earth that stood out against the blanket of white around us. With a trembling hand I reached and nudged away the refuse from the marble headstone partly hidden by snow.
Jane!
I removed my cloak and placed it beneath his head. Lying down and pressing my body against his, I wrapped my arms and legs around him and waited.
Presently I heard a voice. "Ariel;" it called. "Ariel, are you there?"
I sat up and cried out, "Here."
A figure lumbered toward me. I tried hard to make out the face* Jim. My lord's friend. I wept aloud in relief. "Jim, 1 am here. Nicholas is here. Come and help us!"
Before long he stood above us. "What's this?" he exclaimed.
"Will you help us?" I asked.
He dropped to his knees beside us. His face, gray and damp, looked hopelessly dejected. He shook his head. " 'e warned me. I should've listened. I might've stopped 'im. This'll do it, I fear. They'll take 'im away now."
My heart almost died within me, but I rallied again.
"Then we shan't tell them. Why must they know?" Taking encouragement from his silence, I continued. "We will take him from this inhospitable place. Fill in the grave and tamp the earth and only you and I will know," Crouching now, I attempted to lift Nicholas from the ground. "If I must, I will drag him from this place myself. All I ask is that you will speak no more of this. Vow it now!"
He reached and caught my arm. "Why are y' doin' this?"
"He needs our help."
"Y’ve troubled 'im, girl, since y* came here. He told me so 'imself. Go on, then, catch his feet. I'll take 'is shoulders and—"
His sudden silence threatened me. I looked up and caught my breath. Trevor stood at the top of the rise, his face mostly hidden by the fox-pelt collar of his mantle.
"What, by all that is sacred, has happened here?" he said.
Neither I nor Jim responded.
Trevor approached, grabbed up my cloak from the ground, and threw it into my arms. "Put that on before you freeze, then tell me what has happened to my brother."
Still I remained quiet.
"Very well, keep your bloody silence. Matilda has already informed me of his bout of insanity. Come here, Jim, and help me. My carriage is outside the gate. We'll carry him there."
They stooped and lifted him. Carefully they trod back up the rise and hurried toward the gates.
I entered the carriage before them, took my place on the seat, and prepared to nestle Wyndham's head in my lap. I held it gently while his brother counted his pulse beats.
"What has happened?" I wondered aloud. "There is no injury—"
"The grievance is mental, I fear. I suspect a total collapse." Trevor peeled off his wet gloves. "I've suspected the breakdown for some time, though I admit this is somewhat sudden. Something must have triggered it."
"He thought he saw his wife," I responded.
"That is nothing new. He's experienced that hallucination since the fire." Leaning back against his seat, he said, "I'll pen a letter of inquiry to Doctor Conrad in London. There are certain measures that must be taken before we can have Nick committed."
Jim, who sat in stony silence at my side, flinched at the words. But no more than I. Panic seized me.
We arrived back at Walthamstow and found its windows blazing with light. Reginald waited there, and Matilda and Polly and Kate and a score of servants whom I had never before seen. I removed my cloak and gently placed it over my lord's face. I could not bear to subject him to these gaping eyes and curious minds. I knew their thoughts; I knew their sharp and vicious tongues. I would protect him the best I could.
I accompanied Trevor and Jim to Nicholas's room, but as I thought to cross into those quarters Trevor stopped me, closing the door in my face. I turned and found Matilda we
eping quietly in the dark.
"Wot's t' do?" she asked in a small voice. "They'll take 'im now; that's for certain. Wot a pity."
"What could have happened here?" I asked the question for myself, but it was Tilly who answered.
" 'e seemed right after dinner, 'e were lookin' for you, miss, wantin' to paint, methinks. 'e had a drink with
'Is brother and sister then 'e went for a walk ... It were so sudden, just like the night Lady Malham died." She blew her nose into a hanky. " 'e come back from Is walk a different man. 'e looked ill, 'e did. Complained 'is 'ead was poorly, 'e 'ad another drink and went to look in on Kevin." Without waiting for a response, she turned and waddled down the hall.
I closed my eyes briefly, then returned to my room.
Chapter 10
You asked to see me, milady?"
Adrienne looked up from her book and smiled. "Come in and sit down, Ariel. Please." When I had done so, she closed her reader and sat back in her chair. "I was just practicing my French. Fm considering a trip abroad, perhaps in spring. Have you ever visited Paris?"
I shook my head.
"Quel dommagel" she exclaimed. "Paris in spring is like heaven. Tell me: Would you like to go there?"
"To Paris?" I thought a moment. "To be truthful, I have never given Paris much thought. Besides, I think my going to such a place is highly unlikely."
"But if it were likely?"
"I don't know."
Adrienne placed her book aside. Folding her hands in her lap, she took a deep breath and began again. "Considering the circumstances—"
"Circumstances?" I interrupted.
"Since your continuing in your present position is highly unlikely, I thought you might consider the position of companion to me. I—"
"Ma'am."
Her fingers twisting together, Adrienne avoided my eyes. "I hope you'll consider my offer, Ariel. I've come to enjoy your company. You've been—"
"You have not asked about your brother for three days."
She stared at her hands. "As I was saying—" "You have avoided all discussion about his well-being."
"I…"
"Don't you care?"
At that moment Reginald entered the room. With a look of relief, Adrienne addressed him.
"Ma'am," he said. "Lady Forbes has arrived."
I stood and prepared to leave. Adrienne, however, was not to have it. "Please stay. Perhaps then you will understand."
In that moment, Claudia Forbes arrived. A stout woman in her early forties, she swept toward Adrienne, a flutter of bright satin and feathers, her arms thrown wide to embrace Lady Adrienne in a tremendous hug.
"Oh, my dear, you look wonderful! Wonderful!" Claudia exclaimed, then she dropped into the chair and released a huff that I was certain could be heard in the next room. "We missed you last week. The Wakefield soiree was marvelous! So sorry you couldn't make it." Her tiny round eyes found me then and perused me at length.
"I was not up to a journey to York," came Adrienne's tired response. Then, with a smile, she introduced us. "I was just speaking to Miss Rushdon about accepting the position of companion to me. Pamela left me, you know."
"I heard. She's applied at Breakton."
Adrienne paled noticeably.
I took a chair and looked out the window on the thawing countryside. Though snatches of gossip came to me occasionally, I pushed them aside in deference to my own thoughts. Three days had passed since Nick's breakdown; three days he had been locked in his rooms and all but Trevor had been forbidden to see him. I knew he was well cared for. Food was brought to him three times a day, though each time it was returned to the kitchen uneaten. Peat was taken in regularly, so I knew his room remained warm.
Why, then, was I not satisfied?
Because I felt that I could help him, yet I could not see him. I could not touch him.
"I suppose there will be no representation of Walthamstow at the races at Middleham this spring/' came Claudia's words, intruding on my thoughts. I looked again at Adrienne. Her eyes were troubled. "Of course not/' Lady Forbes continued. "How thoughtless of me. Your animals were all killed in that terrible fire last summer. What a shame. Such splendid beasts they were too."
There was desperation in the glance that Adrienne threw me. Weakly she responded, "Yes, they were."
"I must admit, York is positively roiling with the gossip. Why, one evening at charades Paul Hurst even enacted the terrible scene. It was all quite wicked. Here, what's this?"
Our attentions were momentarily diverted toward the door as Kevin toddled into the room. I was first from my chair, though I instantly checked my parental instinct and allowed Adrienne to sweep him up in her arms.
Cradling Kevin's wee, dark head against her shoulder, Adrienne said, "Bea is neglecting her duties again. I'll have to speak to her."
Lady Forbes leant back in her chair. "I must commend you, my dear, you show great consideration to that boy, considering."
"Considering? Pray tell, Claudia, what is there to consider?"
"That he is illegitimate, of course."
I thought I had grown to know Adrienne, but I was wrong. In that instant her demeanor turned as brittle as ice. Rounding on her pompous acquaintance, she declared, "How dare you?"
"I_I beg your pardon?" she responded.
"How dare you come into my home with your wicked, wagging tongue and cast aspersions on my brother and this beautiful infant. The child has caused you no harm, has committed no crime and yet you would besmirch his innocence. Madam, you may leave my house. You are no friend to this family, and certainly not to me!"
"Well, I never—"
"I know now why you came here; I should have guessed. You want nothing more than to gather rumors and send them flying to every corner of Yorkshire. Well, you'll find no gossip here. My brother is well and happy and without suspicion. The child you behold in my arms is an accomplishment of pure devotion. He was born to a young woman who cared for my brother enough to sacrifice her chastity and fine reputation for no more motive than love. Get out, I said. Get out!"
Having staggered to her feet, Lady Forbes quit the room:
Adrienne sank into the chair, rocked Kevin in her arms, and pressed her trembling lips to his brow. "Sweet child, my own flesh and blood." Lifting her eyes to mine, she said, "Now you know, Miss Rushdon. Another of our secrets is laid open for ridicule. Go on, if you must; judge us."
"Must I?" I retook my chair and watched fondly as Kevin's aunt squeezed him gently. "Your love for Kevin is undeniable," I told her. "He's very fortunate."
"It is I who am fortunate. Each time I hold him in my arms I bless the girl who gave him birth. I pray for her soul and hope she finds peace in heaven. And the poor man who brought Kevin to us—I wonder to this day if he survived his illness."
He did not, I knew.
"I shall never forget the eve that poor, racked fellow entered our home with Kevin, and the child but days old. Jane tried to turn them back out into the cold. Oh, it was a dreary Christmas Eve. When the young * man placed the babe in Nicholas's arms I began to believe in miracles again."
I could not help but ask, "What was your brother's reaction?"
"Disbelief. He said he knew no such person as 'Maggie.' He didn't remember, of course. His illness had begun to distort his mind even then, you see."
"Yet he accepted the child as his own. Why?"
"He didn't at first. It is that marvel of bonding, I think, that convinced him, though I and Jim helped as well. You see, my brother confided in me once about his relationship with the girl, though he was very protective of her and would divulge nothing more than her first name. I suspected they would marry. Indeed, he traveled to York to break his engagement to Jane so they might do so."
"But he didn't break it."
"There was an accident. Near Weatherby his horse went down. It was fate that Jim happened by. Nicholas was submerged to his shoulders in freezing water."
"That's when .his illness began?"
/> "When he returned he knew nothing more than his name and his family. He had no recollection of why he was traveling to York." Adrienne appeared thoughtful. "I had already noticed behavior changes in Nick, but I assumed it was due to the demands of my mother that he marry Jane. They argued bitterly. He began to spend more time at the tavern. Perhaps the liquor was altering his moods. Yes, he began changing even then, I think. The fall from his horse only exaggerated his problem."
Leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, I asked, "Do you mean that he had already begun to lose his memory before the fall?"
"Yes. I recall several instances when he forgot an appointment ..." Her brow creased. "I teased him about it. Nick's memory was always so sharp."
"Were there physical changes?"
"He complained of fatigue. And there were headaches."
"Did he take medication?"
"On the contrary. Nicholas has never believed in such remedies. He never believed in bleeding, either. He always teased Trevor that if he ever came at Nick with a razor he would thrash him."
"Then tell me this: Since the fire and the death of his wife, has his mind deteriorated further?"
"Definitely."
"But he has his good days."
"Yes. Oddly enough, however, it's during those clear days that he seems to be most troubled."
"Explain 'clear.' "
"His mind is sharp."
"But he has no memory."
"Oh, he has memory, but there are dark areas. He explained it once. He said, it is like staring at the sun, then looking away. For a few brief seconds that image remains before his eyes, then it vanishes. When his mind is sharp, forgotten images come and go, but they are here and gone so quickly he cannot grasp them."
"Odd," I said. "Tell me, has he ever glimpsed, even for a second, Maggie's image?"
"I cannot say. He rarely speaks to any of us any longer. He sinks deeper and deeper into his quandary."
Silent, I watched her stroke my sleeping son's head, and I was shaken with envy. "Shall I carry him back to the nursery?" I asked her.
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