The deluge quickened. Her nostrils filled. She could no longer breathe. The landscape obscured in front of her. "Is this another trick? Providence, will you steal my way to the oak? Maybe you'll have me fall off the ravine."
Clouds bumped and blotted out the light. A shudder of confirmation raced her spine. Maybe Providence wanted her to die. Maybe it was time for that. For what did she have to live?
Barrington's love was all she had. She'd even traded in her self-respect to be perfect for him, but Amora should've known this day would come. Hadn't there been proof of it with his love for paperwork and Cynthia?
She blinked her wet eyes and tried to make out the surest path to Papa's oak. Past the orchards, the thick woods shrouded cliffs and rocky ravines and sometimes a swirling river. Papa bought the land cheap for nobody thought he could make a go of it, but mother's know how and stubbornness made the difference. She said if she could grow pomegranates, she could grow apples. She showed everyone.
And Papa so loved her. He fought against prejudice and her pride to love her. Why couldn't Barr be the same, completely accept Amora?
She trudged a little farther and slipped. Her shoe went flying but no thud answered. The ravine.
One of Barrington's tortured verses trickled into her remembrance, Though He slay me, I will yet trust Him. "Why? Why trust someone who will slay you?"
"And why not slay me now?"
No more pain or sorrow.
No more being a burden.
No more wrestling with second place to anyone or anything.
The fretting ended today, and she wouldn't be a coward about it either.
Fire in her lungs, she stood up tall, lifted her chin and moved forward. Her stockings became more wet, her toes colder in the loose mud. When her foot felt nothing in front of her but a drop-off, she stopped.
Pushing back a lock of hair from her vision, she eyed the deep ravine. This part was surely high enough to break limbs, maybe snap a neck on a boulder below. If that didn't do it, the water below could finish her. Would the river be cold this time of year? Would it numb her to all the emptiness?
Didn't the doctor say jumping was preferable to slitting a wrist?
With her dead, Mother could lift her head high in the village and wear fancy mourning shrouds again.
And Barrington…he'd be free.
Even in the deluge, the thought of him with another made Amora's throat dry. Yet, the man didn't know what he'd married. So if he found happiness with Cynthia Miller, would that be wrong?
She stuck her foot out, but something inside, quiet and proud, made it drop back to the solid earth.
Thunder barked. She backed up from the ravine. Her cellmate, her lost friend Sa…Sarah. Hadn't they fought to keep hope alive even in the darkness of the cell?
Jumping wasn't keeping hope.
Sarah would be so disappointed in her.
Moving farther away, Amora stumbled and fell against a tree trunk, massive and wide. It was Papa's oak.
She turned and stretched her arm about the circumference. Springy bark tickled her chin. Overhead branches shielded her a little from the heavy rain. A sense of calm swept over her as if Papa offered a hug.
She ran her wet hands along the crevices of the bark. From the boughs of this tree, she'd count to five then jump into Papa's arms. He'd chide her for climbing and trespassing so close to the cliffs, then give her a big spin. Even as he got older, he could still catch her for she loved leaping out of the tree.
She put a foot on a gnarled root and lifted an arm to the high branch. If she got a hold of it, she could probably still scoot up the tree. Then she could pretend once more that her world was safe. Maybe she'd jump and reach the sky.
But no one was here to catch her.
No one.
Sobs strangled as she sank against the trunk.
The wind made the boughs of the tree wave. Her dripping muslin gown stuck to her skin chilling her. She rubbed her arms.
Like brush strokes, beautiful streaks of lightning sailed across the sky. The world moaned, and the clouds swallowed the brightness. It grew dark again. If only she could vanish like a flash of light.
She stood, lifted her face to the steady rain and walked to the edge of the ravine. The ground shifted. Some soggy earth dropped into the river. This time she'd ignore Papa's warning. And Sarah's too.
The rain beat an outline about her feet. Mud slunk around her, before sliding off the ravine.
She edged closer to the sky. Maybe Providence would take the ground from her, too. She'd have no complaints of the thief. Then it wouldn't be as if she'd jumped, just God finally finishing her, like he should have done back in that pit.
"Amora!"
Hoof beats sounded behind her. She kept her eyes on the flashes of light and refused to turn.
"Don't move, sweetheart!" Barrington motioned the horse through the brush. His gaze fixed on his wife.
James had tried to talk him into taking the carriage, but nothing could cross the orchards like a good mount.
With each shock of lightning, Barrington patted the horse to calm her whinnying. If he'd been kinder to Amora, none of them would have to risk all in a storm. Why couldn't he stop the questions? No answer would change the past. He realized that now.
His leg swung out of the stirrup. He lost his balance, but clung to the reins, using everything within in him to reclaim his seat. It had been two years since he'd ridden. Now Amora's life depended on his skill.
Righted in the saddle, he braced and jumped a gully, but he'd fall off the beast a thousand times to save her. "I'm coming for you!"
Her tresses whipped in the wind. She did not flinch with the fresh crashes of thunder. The fear of being struck by lightning must've evaded her thoughts. With her body up so high, she could be a magnet for the storm's strike. Dear God don't let her fall.
So many emotions swelled within his gut, but none more than a sense of stupidity and helplessness.
He chose to have doubts.
He prosecuted the case in his head.
He let Cynthia's witness overshadow everything.
His jealousy of Charleton tainted Amora's protest.
He was guilty, so guilty.
Moving as fast as he could, he approached the precipice upon which she stood.
Hair hung down her back with twigs and leaves sticking to the delicate curls. The wet fabric of her dress clung to her shapely hips, her wondrous frame. She could have been Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships. That beauty too was abducted, but her husband fought to return her.
Not even a week ago, he'd caressed Amora and told her all was forgiven. Why did he let the gossip, his own insecurities challenge his resolve? "Don't move, sweetheart."
She didn't acknowledge him and kept looking off in the distance.
He looped the rein around a branch. Sucking in a breath, he eased off the gelding and hoped his hip would obey. Surprisingly, it felt looser. Hanging onto a horse might've stretched out the muscles, shifted the bit of bullet caught near the bone. He moved easier. His stride lengthened. A small blessing from the God he'd turned away from.
Trying not to startle Amora, he eased within three paces of her. The soggy ground beneath him sucked at his boots.
"Don't come any closer. I don't want you here." Her voice rose above the moans of thunder.
He stopped. She was too near the cliff's edge. "Come away with me."
She shook her head. With no coat or bonnet, rain drenched her solemn form. Her skin looked cold, ashen. She must be freezing.
He reached out a hand, and she took a half-step. The end of her one slipper dangled over the edge. Rocks broke away and dropped to the river below.
With haste, he lowered his arm. He couldn't make her more unsteady. "Turn to me. I'm sorry."
"For what? Marrying me. For getting you punched. Losing our child?"
The list of her charges was high. The breath in his lungs ignited, charring his chest. He forced a swallow
to extinguish his bonfire of wrongs. "None of those things are your fault."
"Yes, they are. If I had told you what happened, you could've begged off, made me release you from our engagement." She swiped at her chin. "You could work hundreds of hours or marry someone like Cynthia who could bear your heirs."
"I only want you. I believe you now. Fully. Completely."
"You are lying. I heard you say the papers weren't enough."
He hit his hat, shoving it tighter onto his skull. Such rotten words for her to have overheard. "You didn't stay for the rest of your mother's testimony. Mrs. Tomàs attests you didn't go willingly with anyone. That you never fancied Charleton or any other." As slowly as he could, he took another step toward her.
"Stay back." She inched further away. More ground dropped. She hopped, landing safely, but again near the edge. "I hear you coming. Just like the monster. I remember his dragging steps."
She could fall and die upon the rocks below or be pulled under by the currents and drown. Barrington's heart beat so hard and fast, but he needed his agile mind, too. "What did it sound like, Amora? Tell me. I'm listening."
She put her hands to her neck, rubbing the sides. "I'm not a good witness. Go back to London and stay with your truthful mistress."
"Move away from the edge, and I won't come closer."
Her head shook then stilled, returning to her stoic pose. "No more telling me what to do. My say is all that counts."
How could he convince her? All he had was the truth. It didn't seem enough. "I want no one but you. It's always been that way."
"Maybe before the war, not now. You suffered. My friend Sarah suffered. Sarah? What was her whole name? I should have given up then. Sarah would be safe from the monster." Amora gripped her temples, wobbled, then became stone again.
Another victim? And somehow Amora felt she could've saved her. There was no reasoning with evil or stupid barristers like himself. He advanced another foot. A few more inches, and he could grab her. Hopefully, they both wouldn't topple over. "Tell me how you could've saved her?"
"If I did what the monster wanted. He craved consent. Consent to be used."
Her words made everything inside cringe. The monster knew the law. He shook his head, swiped at his brow. "I can make this better for you. I'm desperate to save you. Let me."
"Will you kiss me and make it all better?" She tugged her arms about her chest and lowered her head. "Liar."
"Amora, I've never lied to you."
"Yes. Every time you said you were happy with me. You're lying now."
His fingers itched. Was he close enough to pull her to him? If he could, he'd caress her until he could prove how sorry he was. "I love you, Amora. And beg, beg your forgiveness. Please, babe. Babe, please."
She pulled at the sleeves of her dress, clawing at the wilted cap of the muslin. She let out a laugh that was so near a sob, it ripped his heart. "Of course you love me, so much so you run from my bed straight to Cynthia."
"It wasn't like that."
She ripped at her collar as if it burned. "I hate this color. I hate these bland colors. I wear them for you, thinking that would make you love me. Would you be my champion if I painted my face, smelled like rotting flowers, or actually have an affair?"
Amora was talking nonsense, but she was still talking. "I'll buy anything you want. Even green. It doesn't matter if I can see it or not."
"Why did I beg to stay true for you? I should've surrendered and stopped him from hurting Sarah. She would've been spared."
She lifted a foot. Her slipper dangled over the edge, before she stamped the ground. Mud flew staining her skirts. A clod fell off the cliff.
"I know you've been faithful. So have I."
"Where's the proof, Barrington? Your chrysanthemum laced cravats say otherwise."
Her evidence did seem worthy to convict, but he'd never thought of Cynthia that way. "I needed some time to puzzle things out. And I got it all wrong. But, I've never lied to you. If you had succumbed to the abductor, I would have understood. Blast it. I wish you had runaway with Charleton, if that could've prevented your abduction. I love you. As long as we love each other, anything can be solved. Oh, please come away with me."
Conflicted between tackling her and hoping for the best and trying to logic out something coherent enough to make her turn, he tugged at the buttons of his coat. "Wear my jacket. I don't want you chilled."
"Nothing matters. You'll change your mind tomorrow once Cynthia whispers in your ear."
"That won't happen. I know the truth now. You know I don't lie."
"Hence the rub. You won't move past my omission. I lied to marry you. I thought your love would take away the nightmares." Her head shook as she smoothed water from her face. "It won't. Pretend I'm lost. Go now."
He plodded another step, definitely within reach of her. A heavy sigh fled his nostrils, but he wouldn't be satisfied until she fit in his arms. "You don't need forgiveness. I need you to forgive me. You listened to your mother, and you didn't tell me. But, you know me. I needed the facts."
"How can I give them? A moment ago, I remembered Sarah's name. I have bits and pieces and most make no sense." She rubbed her temples. Raven tresses stuck to her cheek. "I have no more proof, no more strength."
Her shoulders sagged. "I'm tired, tired of hurting you and me."
Desperate, he latched onto her hand. "If you jump, I'll go too. I won't let you go ever again."
She hit at him, swinging wildly, until she knocked his spectacles from his face.
He didn't care. Barrington only wanted her safe. He pulled her soaked form into his arms. "Stop, Amora. We can survive this together. Maybe I can help you remember. We can figure out who did this to you and Sarah and make him pay for this crime. Then the nightmares will go away."
She stilled and leaned back as if to view his face. Her violet eyes opened wide. "Together, we could bring him to justice?"
"Yes, I'll make everything better." He kissed her forehead. "Please say we can."
"I don't know, Barrington."
"I'll fetch my glasses, and we will go from here. Together, we'll face this."
She didn't say a word, but she'd stopped trying to wriggle away.
Good. She would accept his help. Feeling more confident, he loosened his grip along her waist to fetch his glasses.
Lightning crashed. The earth groaned.
Rocks snapped and shifted below her feet.
She pushed on his hip, shoving him to the ground as the cliff gave way.
Chapter Three: The Fall and The Fight
Just like jumping from her oak, Amora felt the air rush toward her. Her skirt billowed up her legs. Out of instinct, her arms lifted, and she clasped a tree branch, thick like Papa's arm. The river swirled below. The foaming tops lapped at the wall of dark earth forming the ravine.
"Oh, God, no!" Barrington's voice rumbled overhead. "Hang on, Amora."
When the ground crumbled beneath her feet, she'd pushed Barr with all her might so he wouldn't fall too. She had to save him.
Peering up, she saw his head crane overhead. She watched him stick out an arm, but he'd need another two feet of length to reach her.
"The horse's reins, Amora. I can use that to get to you."
"Don't. I can't hold on much longer."
"Try Amora. You can't die." His head disappeared.
The neighing of the horse sounded closer.
At least he sounded as if he believed her. That would be a good last memory.
Shoulders aching, she closed her eyes, pointed her toes and let go.
Her skirts ballooned again as she eased into the swirling water. Dunked beneath the blues and greens of the waves, she kicked a little and brought her head to the surface.
The water moved fast from the swelling rain. It swirled her around and around like her first reel with Barrington. The rhythm shifted. The up and down, the bobbling of her body now met the beat of a pianoforte. Blinking, she could see Papa's hands holding he
rs against the keys. She lifted a palm to touch his fingers and swatted air, sprays of foam.
The river was warmer than normal. It soothed like the low heat of a bath that had gone tepid. A tingle coursed her spine, her toes. Her muscles relaxed. She allowed the water to carry her. Nature was her friend, the god she should worship. Maybe this god knew where she belonged.
A wave spun her. She could see the top of her oak, just the boughs and the thick emerald leaves. No sign of Barrington. It was best if he gave up.
Yawning, she lowered her neck and slipped below the water. Nothing but snow white and bubbling foam surrounded her. She lifted her countenance to the indigo sky. Her limbs whirled in the crest. The river swallowed her again, washing her face in the bluest water she'd ever seen. Shots of sapphire, hints of garnet and jade colored the bottom. Nothing had been so beautiful, not since Cornwall.
Her legs became heavy. Her arms stiffened. The minutes of being above the water dwarfed being dragged below. The pressure on her chest hurt. The pain in her temples throbbed. A voice grew louder, calling out her name.
Like music, the tones held a lilt. Then a flash of light exposed blond hair. Sarah's face, pale and small, mouthed don't forget me.
Another promise broken. They'd made a pact to stay together. It held until Sarah, fearing for her father's health, gave in to the monster's promises.
Her screams. How could Amora forget the girl's screams?
Shaking her head, Amora lifted her chin above the foam and gasped for air. There was still fire in this Tomàs girl. She had a promise to keep. Kicking as much as she could, she fought to stay upright.
The water sped up. Ahead, the river made a tight curve. Maybe if she worked against the current it would spit her out. She braced and pushed. Closing her eyes, she waited and almost prayed for another chance.
Her body lifted. Arms and legs flipped and twisted. The bend came and the river vomited her to the banks. Cold wet mud sat beneath her fingers. The air, nice and dry, filled her nostrils. She lay still. Alive. Waiting for her heart to slow, she examined the sky above. The dark clouds had cleared. Azure and white streaks remained. Peaceful. Almost bliss.
Unveiling Love: A Regency Romance (A London Regency Romantic Suspense Tale Book 2) Page 3