by Sandra Heath
She smiled and gave Anthea a peck on the cheek. “Go back to bed, now. We have a long journey tomorrow and need to be fresh for it.”
Lady Letitia’s door opened, and she peered out. Her gray hair hung in plaits from beneath her night bonnet, and she was ghostly in her voluminous robe. She held up a lighted candle and peered shortsightedly at them. “Why is everyone up and chattering at this hour? Is everything all right?”
Her voice was slightly nasal, and her eyes were red, and Anthea was concerned to realize she had been crying. “All is well, Aunt Letty. I heard a noise, but think I was asleep and dreamed it.”
“Very well, my dears. Good night to you both.”
As Lady Letitia began to draw back into her room, Anthea hastened to her. “All may be well with us, Aunt Letty, but clearly the same cannot be said of you,” she said quietly, so her voice would not carry to Corinna.
Lady Letitia hesitated. “It is nothing, my dear, just an old maid’s foolishness.”
Anthea put a gentle hand on her aunt’s sleeve. “It’s Cathness, isn’t it? Something happened there.”
Lady Letitia looked at her in surprise. “You are sometimes too perceptive for your own good, miss. Well, I will never divulge the sorry tale, so please do not press me. It is something that must be left to lie.”
“Aunt Letty—”
“Good night, Anthea,” Lady Letitia said firmly, and went into her room.
As the door closed behind her, Anthea went back to Corinna, who looked curiously at her. “What was all that about?”
“Oh, nothing important.”
Corinna smiled. “I’m not entirely empty-headed, Anthea. I’ve already guessed that Lady Letitia was once very much in love, and that Cathness has something to do with it. Do you think it was the previous duke?”
Anthea pursed her lips. “To be honest, that’s what I wondered too, but as she does not intend to speak of it, I doubt if we will ever know.”
They said goodnight, and Anthea returned to her room, but before getting into bed, she looked out at the curious blue moon. There was an unaccountable atmosphere tonight, as if something momentous but not very benevolent were imminent. She flung the curtains back and raised the sash fully. Cool air swept over her, bringing with it the fresh, bewitching scent of lavender—although where it came from she couldn’t imagine, for the plants in the garden were no longer in bloom. She breathed the fragrance.
“Anthea?” Jovian spoke quietly in her head. “I’m over here on the stables.”
She was shocked to see him on the ridge of a roof by the mews lane. He was dressed in evening clothes, his blond hair was silvery in the faintly blue moonlight, and he lounged against the wall of a tall adjacent building as if it were quite natural to be where he was.
“To me it is,” he said then.
He could not only speak to her but knew what she was thinking too!
“Yes, Anthea, I can do both.”
She fixed him with a glare, thinking that if he spoke the truth then he would know how many questions she wished to put to him.
“And I will answer what is necessary, but if you expect a complete explanation about everything, I fear you will be disappointed. “
You always disappoint me, she thought.
“I know, my darling, but I love you and I always will.” He straightened and walked casually down the sloping roof to the boundary wall between Daneway House and the neighboring property, then along the wall until he was as close as he could get to her window. He smiled up at her. “How lovely you are in the moonlight,” he said, speaking naturally.
“This is not real moonlight, but something very different,” she replied, glancing up at the sky. “Why is the moon that color?”
“Because the time has almost come.”
“What time?” she asked quickly.
How it happened she didn’t know, but suddenly he was sitting casually on the outer ledge of her window, one leg drawn up, the other swinging idly, as if he were on the ground floor, not the third. It was too far from the garden wall to the window ledge for him to have jumped or climbed, and besides, she’d barely had time to blink. She drew back uncertainly. “How ... did you do that?”
He smiled. “Come now, Anthea, surely you aren’t surprised? Not after Carlton House and St. James’s Park.”
“I know I should be used to it, but I don’t think I ever will be.” She looked at him. “You still haven’t explained what time you were referring to.”
“The time that Lethe and his cohorts have been anticipating for nineteen years, when the lavender blooms out of season, the harvest is ready, and there are two full moons in August,” he said softly.
Her skin turned to gooseflesh. “I don’t want riddles, Jovian; I want answers I can understand.”
“Believe me, Anthea, if you knew those answers you would wish you did not.”
“Why?”
“Trust me where this is concerned.”
“Trust you? That is too much to ask, for you cannot exist without strong drink and become cruel and heartless when you have it inside you. I would as soon trust a rat.”
“I suppose I deserved that, but if you imagine I have willingly drunk myself into oblivion these past months, you could not be more wrong. Every glass I have downed has been a torture to me. I want none of it but have no choice.”
“No choice? Did someone hold the poisoned goblet to your lips and force you to sip? I think not. You drank because you wanted to, and I despise you for pretending otherwise.”
He breathed out slowly. “You are entitled to your opinion, wrong as it may be. But speaking as a relatively harmless rat, I sincerely hope you realize that Lethe is of the plague-carrying variety and thus very dangerous indeed.”
She searched his face. “From which remark I suppose you witnessed what happened in the garden after dinner?”
“I did not need to, for I know him. He showed his true vile colors tonight—well, some of them.” He swung his leg over the ledge and stood in the room with her. “Never place faith in him, Anthea.”
“How unflatteringly you speak of him; yet I thought he was your good friend.”
“He is no friend of mine. Believe me, it is for good reason that he is called Erebus Lethe.”
“The son of Chaos and the River of Forgetfulness?” Unwillingly she recalled how earlier that evening she had associated Sir Erebus with the clammy darkness beneath the earth.
Jovian put the back of his fingers to her cheek and drew them gently upward in a caress that aroused joyous memories. “Anthea, I wish none of all this had happened, and that we were as before, but it has happened ... or at least has begun to happen.... The truth is more fantastic and sinister than anything you can conceive, and I am desperate to prevent it from proceeding. To that end I have come to you tonight to tell you not on any account to go to Gloucestershire in the morning. Stay away from the town of Cathness, and be sure that your stepsister does as well. Remain safely in London until this moon is over.”
She stared at him. “What on earth are you talking about, Jovian?”
“On earth? Oh, how droll, to be sure,” he murmured.
Suddenly she was angry. “You and Sir Erebus are both quite mad. Tonight he was ridiculously angry when he learned you had given me fresh lavender.”
“Had he tried to give you a flower?”
She was confused. “Yes, an aster, except that it was really mistletoe.”
He seemed unutterably relieved. “So at least I can be sure you are protected,” he murmured.
“Protected? From him?”
“Yes.”
A rumble of thunder spread across the sky, again from clear heavens. Would she now see the hare? That was what had happened before. Jovian glanced at the window, a look of bitter frustration on his incomparable face. “Is it real thunder, Jovian, or more akin to blue moonlight?”
The faintest of smiles played upon his lips. “It is not real thunder, but merely the way she—” He didn’t finish.<
br />
“She? Who do you mean? Is it something to do with the hare?”
Their eyes met again. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “But what does matter is I love you above all others, Anthea, and will protect you in whatever way I can. You must trust me, my darling, for I am all that stands between you and wickedness itself.”
He crushed her to him in a kiss that seemed wrenched from his very soul. His parted lips moved richly over hers, and he stroked her through her nightgown. Her senses reeled into that ecstasy from which she could never escape, the ecstasy she shared only with him, no matter how he sinned against her. Her lips softened beneath his, and her body melted into a luxurious warmth that would have denied her the will to resist had he laid her on the bed and made love to her. But instead he released her.
“Anthea, I do not intend to explain any of this unless there is no choice, but one thing I must know now. Did Lady Letitia and Corinna touch the lavender I gave you?”
She blinked. “Did they what? I... well, no. When I returned to the house, I gave it to a maid to put in a vase; then it was taken up to my bedroom.”
The ghost of a smile raised the corner of his lips. “I’m honored,” he said softly, “but we are wandering from the path, I fear. Lethe now knows that you are protected, which will not have pleased him at all, but he can be equally sure that Lady Letitia and Corinna are still at his mercy. Well, it is not important where your aunt is concerned, but your stepsister is in the utmost jeopardy. There will be danger if you go to Cathness, so I beg you not to leave London.”
The last sentence sounded in her head, for she was suddenly alone in the room, with just the night air moving the curtains. And outside it seemed she heard the hare’s mocking cry.
Chapter Thirteen
The day of the journey was perfect for traveling, although such fine weather meant the roads would inevitably be dusty. Still, better dusty than wet, for at least a good pace could be maintained.
But the comfort of the journey was not Anthea’s prime consideration as she went down to breakfast with Lady Letitia and Corinna, for she was too disquieted by Jovian’s plea of the night before. He had been so earnest, so intense, so... believable, that she could not ignore him. Somehow she had to prevent the journey from taking place, but without causing undue alarm—or outright disbelief, which might be the case. It would not be easy, especially at the eleventh hour, and if Corinna ever spoke to her again, it would be a miracle.
It had been decided the previous evening that they would not dress until after breakfast, so they all appeared at the table in their robes and wraps. Lady Letitia did not look her best, and Anthea felt sure she had cried again during the night. Corinna thought so too, as was evident from her frequent glances at her ladyship’s rather red eyes.
Given Aunt Letty’s mood and the gravity of Jovian’s warnings, it was some time before Anthea was able to muster the courage to say her piece. “You will both be angry with me, I know, but... I really do not wish to proceed with this journey.”
Two pairs of eyes stared at her. Lady Letitia recovered first. “Is it not a little late to mention this?” she said, with considerable disapproval.
Anthea swallowed, “I—I know, and I was going to say something before, but Corinna was so anxious to go that I held my tongue. Now, however, I just can’t go on.”
Corinna was hugely dismayed. “Oh, Anthea, please don’t do this! I am eager beyond belief to spend some time with my aunt, and—”
“But what do we really know about this woman? She might be an adventuress, intent only upon getting her hands on any of Papa’s fortune that you may have,” Anthea interrupted, and regretted the latter words the moment they tripped from her tongue, for Corinna was devastated.
“Is that what you think of me, too, Anthea? That Mama and I dug our grasping fingers into his title and fortune? And maybe that I am only here now in an endeavor to do the same?” she cried, tears leaping to her lovely green eyes.
Lady Letitia gave Anthea a furious look and then got up to put a comforting arm around Corinna. “No, dearest girl, of course we do not think such a dreadful thing,” she said gently.
“But—but if Anthea thinks that of my aunt, she must think it of me too! All her smiles and outward fr-friendship have been false!”
Anthea felt awful. “I don’t think that, Corinna, please believe me. I just have an awful feeling of apprehension and want to stay here. Maybe I am being silly, but I just can’t help it.”
Lady Letitia tutted. “I suspect it is your time of the month or the full moon, Anthea,” she said sharply.
Anthea lowered her eyes at the mention of the moon. She was ashamed of herself for speaking without thinking how her words might be interpreted.
Lady Letitia continued to chastise her. “Anthea, when I expressed uncertainty about Miss Wheatley, you and Corinna promptly talked me out of it, so it is hardly reasonable of you to present such concerns again at this stage in the proceedings.”
Corinna was still distressed. “I think you are very mean, Anthea, and I will never forgive you for this.”
“I’m sorry, Corinna, truly I am, but my doubts have been multiplying, and now I cannot bear it any more. I have become very uneasy about this whole thing and honestly believe we should make more thorough inquiries about Miss Wheat ley before we visit her.”
Lady Letitia was not at all amused. “This is intolerable, Anthea, and I am deeply disappointed in you. Such misgivings should have been expressed at the outset. I, too, have reasons for not wishing to go to Cathness again, but for Corinna’s sake I have managed to overcome them. It is therefore my opinion that you should be capable of the same consideration toward your stepsister. Besides, I cannot agree with your doubts about Miss Wheatley. Her letter to me was couched in most proper and gracious terms, and she impresses me as a lady of excellent character and quality.”
Corinna glared reproachfully at Anthea and nodded her agreement with Lady Letitia’s sentiments.
Anthea knew she was losing the battle. “Aunt Letty, I—”
“Enough, Anthea! You may stay here if you choose, but Corinna and I will proceed to Cathness as planned.”
Stay behind and leave them to travel into danger? Anthea knew she couldn’t possibly do that. “I... I will come too,” she said in a small voice.
“Very well, but you will hold your tongue in future, unless you have something sensible to say.”
Having mishandled the whole thing, Anthea nodded. “Yes, Aunt Letty.”
* * *
It was a quarter of an hour short of midday when the three ladies emerged from the house to enter the waiting traveling carriage, a handsome navy blue vehicle drawn by four well-matched chestnut horses.
Corinna took Lady Letitia’s arm to step across the pavement, thus obliging Anthea to follow behind on her own. This slight was done deliberately, for although Lady Letitia had mellowed toward her niece since breakfast, Corinna remained very upset and had, as the saying goes, sent Anthea to Coventry, for not a word would she say, even though Anthea had striven to put matters right. Anthea was very troubled as she tried to make herself comfortable for the bumpy miles ahead. She was in a terrible quandary, and did not know how to cope with it.
The coachman, named Longton, stirred the horses into action, and the carriage jolted away from the curb. As it drove smartly north around the square toward Oxford Road it passed a flower girl, who Anthea noticed was selling asters. That was all, just asters. Yet her street call was about a different plant entirely. “Who will buy my lavender? Six bunches a penny! Lavender, sweet lavender blue!”
Startled, Anthea sat forward to lower the window glass and look out. The call changed immediately. “Asters, beautiful asters! Pink, white, red, and blue!”
Anthea glanced at Lady Letitia and Corinna. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what, my dear?” inquired her aunt.
“The flower girl on the corner called out ‘lavender,’ yet is selling asters.”
“I only heard her mention asters.”
Corinna nodded agreement. “I did too. I know I thought I heard ‘lavender’ being called before, but not this time. Anyway, it’s even later in the month now, and even more unlikely.”
Lady Letitia looked perplexedly at Anthea. “Oh, you are being odd today, child. Why on earth would she sing about lavendula vera at the end of August?”
“I... don’t know.” Anthea gazed out the window as the carriage turned west along Oxford Road and Longton brought the team up to a spanking pace as they left London.
The first change of horses was made at the Red Cow in Hammersmith, a famous sixteenth-century hostelry that stood directly on the road. It had a high pitched roof with red tiles and vast stables to accommodate the considerable amount of traffic that halted there, which included the mails and numerous stagecoaches.
When Lady Letitia’s equipage drew up in the busy yard, Anthea alighted to walk a little. It was a firm habit of hers to do this on long journeys, and only a torrential downpour would have kept her seated inside.
Hardly had she stepped down to the cobbled yard when she saw Jovian ride slowly past the inn in the same direction they were going. He was mounted on his fine dappled gray thoroughbred and wore his pine green riding coat. His close-fitting cream breeches clung to his hips and thighs, and the admirable shine on his top boots caught the sunlight as he reined in and turned in the saddle to look directly at her. When he removed his top hat to incline his head, she was distressed to see him rock in the saddle. Then he called out drunkenly.
“Go h-home, Anthea. Be s-safe.” Then he glanced behind him in the same haunted manner she’d noticed before. He must have seen something, for he kicked his heels and urged his horse on toward the west. Was he leaving London for Cathness Castle?
Anthea ran out to the road, but all she saw were traps, wagons, coaches, carriages, drovers, even a donkey cart. Jovian had disappeared into the dust and vehicles. Soon afterward the carriage left the Red Cow with fresh horses. It did not pass Jovian along the road, nor did she mention having seen him.