Lord Merlyn's Magic

by Marcy Stewart

  Lord Donberry drained his glass of wine, then fixed his eyes on his brother’s. “Don’t forget that when something happens to me, you’ll be the marquess. There’s a lot to be learned about handling the estate. Much you don’t know.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you, Carl; you’re too stubborn to die. Besides, don’t pretend it’s you handling estate business when we all know it is Calvin O’Reilly. Now, if he goes on to his reward, then I’ll be alarmed.”

  Defeated, the marquess fell silent. Sophia gave him a loving look, then turned to Abby. “Since you are set on leaving, I want to show you the Donberry gems. There are more jewels than I can wear in a lifetime, and I beg you to choose whatever you wish from them. Perhaps you’ll even be able to find a wedding ring that will fit your finger.” When Abby started to protest, she said, “No, you must not refuse. After all, you’re a Donberry now and the estate’s only hope for the future. It is too late for Carl and me; we have just our daughter in school. But you and Julian must fill the castle with strong, young sons.”

  Abby’s gaze dropped to her plate, then lifted to meet Julian’s sad eyes.

  “There now, Sophia,” Lord Donberry chided. “You’ve made the girl blush. Shame.”

  *

  The newlyweds departed for Avilion a few days later. During their journey home, Abby repeatedly held her garnet-and-diamond wedding band to the window to see it sparkle. Charlotte Ann was forced to proclaim its beauty over and over again.

  On the second day of traveling, Julian said in an exasperated voice, “Had you told me how much you detested my ring, I would have bought you another before now.”

  “I love your ring,” Abby exclaimed, caressing the filigreed gold band that once again graced his little finger. “But this one is so delicate, and it belonged to your grandmother.” In a sensible voice, she added, “Besides, there is no danger of it falling into my soup.”

  Abby’s spirits grew lighter every day. She smiled often, sometimes for no apparent reason. Only the chasm between Julian and herself prevented her complete happiness. But she would find a way to bridge that gap. She wanted to give him strong, young sons, and she would not let his fears prevent her.

  So confident was she of their future together that when the gates of Avilion finally came into sight, she turned to Julian and said mischievously, “Are you certain you have no surprises awaiting me this time, my lord?”

  When he looked at her with a distracted air, she fretted momentarily that she’d offended him. “No surprises,” he said, a frown gathering between his brows.

  He must be worried about the coming encounter with Harriet, Abby decided.

  Their second reception was similar to the first. The housekeeper and butler responded almost immediately to Bugbee’s horn. Harriet and Colleen took longer this time, coming from the direction of the cottage by the pond.

  Harriet approached Julian with all her former confidence, but it was apparent the stiffness of his embrace startled her. When she pulled back, she looked from him to Abby and back again uncertainly.

  Colleen paid them no mind; her sharp eyes had immediately detected the dazzling band on Abby’s finger. “What a pretty ring!” she declared, “Where did you get it?”

  “From Julian’s family,” Abby said, watching Harriet.

  Harriet’s gaze dropped to the wedding band. A red circle bloomed on each cheek, and winter came into her eyes.

  Julian lightly rested his hand at the small of her back. “Come inside, Harry. I have something of interest to tell you.”

  There was not the slightest change in Harriet’s posture. She met Julian’s gaze directly, then turned to enter the house.

  She knows, Abby thought. There was no taste of joy in the victory. She looked at Francis, who stood below her on the steps. The compassion in his eyes was no more than in her own.

  While Julian and Harriet were closeted in the parlour, Abby was too restless to retire to her room. Since it was hours before dinner, she decided to walk awhile before changing.

  Colleen expressed a desire to accompany her and led her to the informal garden behind the house. Abby was delighted to see a series of stone walkways curving around clusters of late-blooming wildflowers. The groupings looked natural, as if no man had a hand in their upkeep and guided disarray, but Abby knew better. As she walked, she sniffed their faint fragrances and sighed peacefully.

  “Do you like it?” Colleen asked. “I do. I like it almost as much as my own garden.”

  “You have a garden?”

  “Yes,” the girl said importantly. “Feebur helped me plant my own herbacious border. The late-lilies are blooming because we haven’t had a frost yet, and I have dahlias and chrysanthemums. Do you want to see?”

  Impressed, Abby said she did.

  “Good! Hurry!” The child ran ahead.

  Abby maintained a more leisurely pace. Everything she saw was pleasing. Beyond the tall islands of flowers, the woods loomed darkly. They were beautiful, too, but she shivered at the shadows among the trees. Julian would have to introduce her to the forest; she was not venturing there alone. Her last woodland experience had shaken her faith in her sense of direction.

  While she wondered at the reason for her disquiet, a noise popped in the woods. Abby stood very still, her heart pumping wildly.

  The sound came again, like a branch breaking. Footsteps began to race, faster and faster. Searching for the source of the sound, she turned her head and saw a flash of white, then brown. She opened her mouth to scream. When a pair of dark eyes stared fearfully into hers, the scream turned into laughter.

  Why hadn’t Julian mentioned he kept deer in his park?

  To her sorrow, the trembling doe fled away.

  Smiling, she turned her steps toward the pond. Colleen would be wondering where she was. When she skirted the little man-made lake, however, Abby saw the girl was not to be found behind the cottage, though the garden was certainly thriving.

  Puzzled, she knocked on the back door. It was unlatched and swung inward at her touch. She crossed the threshold hesitantly and blinked in the sudden dimness of the room.

  In the darkness, Colleen’s blue eyes blazed above the hand that held her mouth. Abby’s numbed gaze rose to the face of the disheveled man holding the child. The pistol in his other hand was pointed directly at her. She felt the room sway.

  “Hello, Abigail,” Philip said.

  Chapter 17

  “Colleen and I are wealthy?” Harriet asked, her tone disbelieving. “Michael is dead, and we are to receive his portion?”

  “There is no one more deserving than the two of you,” Julian said in a distracted voice. “Carl wanted you to have the funds. He said it was long past …”

  As though he had forgotten he was speaking, Julian stepped to the window and pushed the curtains aside to look out.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Ever since we arrived, I’ve felt—” His eyes sharpened. “Where is Abby?”

  “I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea,” she said coldly.

  Julian rushed from the room.

  *

  The kitchen slowly righted itself, and Abby straightened her shoulders. She scarcely recognized the man standing before her. Philip was unshaven, his hair untidy, and his clothing unspeakably dirty and worn. His skin had a yellowish cast, as if he’d been ill; his eyes looked ravaged and desperate. Were he not clutching Colleen, she could almost have felt sorry for him. Instead, she was afraid and burning with rage.

  “Release the child,” she demanded.

  He ignored her order. “Are you surprised to see me, Abigail?”

  “Yes. No.” She frowned in exasperation. “What does it matter? You’re here for me, I imagine. Free the child; she has nothing to do with what is between us.”

  Abby saw his arm relax slightly. Colleen immediately strained against his hand and kicked her feet backward. Reflexively, he jerked her closer, then cried out when she bit the fleshy base of his thumb
. His face flushed with fury, and he brought the pistol near the girl’s head.

  “No!” Abby screamed, stepping forward, both arms held out entreatingly. “Think what you are doing! She is only a child!”

  Philip’s eyes met hers defiantly for an instant, then dropped, and he lowered the weapon. “Bring something to tie her,” he said hoarsely.

  Frantically, Abby searched the kitchen until she found several long towels. Philip instructed her to place one around Colleen’s mouth. He forced the child to sit in a chair while Abby tied her arms and legs to the wood.

  Colleen’s eyes pleaded with Abby as she followed his directions, but there was nothing to be done, not while he could hurt the girl. When she finished, Philip seized Abby’s arm and pulled her to the door. There was only time for a final, despairing, glance at Colleen before Abby was drawn outside.

  She looked longingly across the pond to the manor house. Julian was in there. Julian and heaven. Could he hear her thoughts? Could he hear her? She drew breath to cry out.

  Philip’s fingers dug into her arm as he pushed her toward the forest. “Don’t think of screaming. If he comes, I’ll shoot him. I may do so anyway, depending on how cooperative you are.”

  The scream died in her throat. “Have you lost your mind, Philip? What do you hope to accomplish by this? I am a married woman.”

  “You are not married until you are married to me,” he said through his teeth, his words matching the rhythm of his steps. “I have not been through three weeks of hell to be thwarted now. I’ve neglected everything for you. My estate. My mother. And nearly lost my life. Can you imagine, Abigail, that I spent two weeks suffering in a vermin-infested hole populated with mental deficients? And for the past five nights I’ve been forced to freeze under the stars because I didn’t bring sufficient funds with me?”

  She had a sudden urge to laugh. If he were not so livid, if his hands weren’t bruising her skin, she might have.

  “I know I’ve made you angry,” she said breathlessly, trying to keep up with him so he would not tear her arm from its socket. “I’m sorry for it, Philip. But I never wanted to marry you. Don’t you see that what you’re doing is hopeless? Julian will come after you. I belong to him.”

  They were beneath the trees now, out of sight of the house and cottage, and Philip grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her roughly against an oak. “Never say that! Don’t dare say that to me!”

  She paled at the violence in his eyes. The back of her head rang from striking the tree, and her knees weakened. She braced herself against the oak, the rugged bark prickling her scalp.

  His expression softened, but she took no comfort in it. “I don’t mean to hurt you.” He started to touch her face and looked surprised to see the pistol in his hand. Pocketing the weapon, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and said soothingly, “You bring it on yourself, acting so disobediently. This behavior is not like you, Abigail. It’s his fault, I’m certain. I should kill him. I will kill him if he doesn’t consent to annulling your marriage.”

  From the garden beyond the trees, voices could be heard calling her name. Julian was among them.

  Abby smiled rebelliously, then slapped his hand away. Fury leapt into his eyes, but she continued, unheeding. “He won’t consent to it. And don’t talk to me of killing. Do you want to hang? You can’t force everyone to bend to your will, no matter how much you would like to do so.”

  In a carefully controlled voice, he said, “He’ll think differently after we’ve been together awhile. And I do mean to spend time with you. A long, slow time; longer than you’ve been with him.”

  Abby refused to listen to his words. Her gaze slid sideways toward the garden. The voices were growing closer. Stalling, she said, “It’s useless. Julian and I love each other.”

  Instead of answering, he clutched her arm more tightly and pushed her further into the forest.

  “He’ll find us,” she said desperately.

  “No, he won’t. Do you think I mean to go back to Prosings right away? No, we’ll travel awhile. And then, when we finally return home, he won’t want you anymore. And you won’t want to leave me, either.”

  “You are mad.”

  In answer, he shook her angrily and moved forward until they reached the wall. Tugging, half-dragging her along its length for what seemed a long time, he reached the spot where the oak swept over the side, put his hands on her waist and prepared to lift her over. She struggled, pummeling him with her fists and pushing against his chest.

  In the midst of her terror, she couldn’t help feeling surprised at herself. Weeks ago, she would have seen no hope in her resistance and gone docilely. But that was before Julian.

  Philip seemed as surprised as she. “Go on, Abigail, or I’ll slap you senseless and throw you over!” he spat.

  Neither of them noticed the approach of careful footfalls, but when Julian spoke, they both turned instantly. “No, you won’t,” he said evenly. “Release my wife this instant, Demere.”

  Joy swept through Abby, then dread. From the corner of her eye, she saw Philip’s hand slip into his pocket. “Be careful,” she warned. “He has a pistol.”

  Philip pulled out the gun and pointed it at his opponent. “I’ll shoot you where you stand if you come any closer.” When Julian hesitated and eyed the weapon, Philip smiled grimly. “Now, turn around and walk away.”

  “You have missed something,” the magician said.

  A question came into Philip’s eyes, then alarm as he sighted the pistol in Julian’s hand. “Where did that come—oh, yes. The magician,” His lips twisted scornfully. He jerked Abby to him and pointed the gun at her back. “It will do you no good. Throw it away.”

  The weapon in Julian’s hand wavered. “You won’t hurt her. She’s the reason you’ve come.”

  Philip drew his head closer to Abby’s. “Yes, but if I can’t have her, neither shall you.”

  Julian’s face moved indecisively. His weapon began to lower.

  Abby felt her weight increase a hundredfold. Behind her, Philip’s breathing quickened. She felt his rage as if it were her own.

  “Don’t!” she cried to Julian, her voice shaking. “I’m afraid he means to kill you.” Angry tears began to flow. “I’d rather die than live without you!”

  While Philip’s fingers clawed into her side like talons, a light came into Julian’s eyes, an intense, communicating light. His lips parted in a half-smile, and his eyebrows moved in exaggerated arcs.

  “Very well, Philip, you are the victor.” Staring fixedly at Abby, he flexed his brows again. “I’m tossing my weapon away.” When a look of cautious hope entered her eyes, the magician lifted his arm in a florid gesture and threw the pistol over the wall.

  While Philip watched the flight of the weapon, his grip on Abby’s waist loosened, and she swung away from him. A shot rang out, and Abby’s heart stopped.

  For a long, dismal moment, there was silence.

  Cries could be heard in the distance, coming closer. Julian’s eyes squinted in pain, and Philip crumpled to the earth.

  Too afraid to look, Abby blurted, “Have you killed him?”

  “No, sweetheart. I aimed for his arm.” Julian picked up the pistol which had slipped from his adversary’s fingers and placed it in his pocket with the other one. “But I see I have shot him in the leg instead. Well, at least I hit him somewhere. I fear Mrs. White is going to have my skin for shooting a hole through my pocket.”

  “You tricked me!” Philip panted from the ground. “Stupid trick!”

  Abby was giddy with relief. “Never remove your eyes from a magician’s hands,” she could not resist saying, then added with a nervous giggle, “Or his lying eyebrows.”

  With his hands pressed to his thigh, Philip glared up at her. “You have changed, Abigail. You’re not the girl I knew.”

  “Thank God,” she said, and walked into Julian’s embrace.

  Her husband folded her within his arms. “I nearly lost you th
rough my own stubbornness,” he whispered in her ear. “I received a warning and almost ignored it. But then I remembered what you said. Perhaps it is a gift and not always a curse.”

  Her arms tightened around his waist. She turned her head away from Philip’s disgust and agony and closed her eyes. There was no place she would rather be than in her husband’s embrace.

  When Francis and the servants came to carry Philip into the house, Abby suddenly remembered Colleen, and she and Julian hurried to the cottage. They paused in the kitchen doorway. Harriet had arrived before them and was loosening her daughter’s bonds.

  Colleen glanced up from rubbing her wrists and exclaimed, “Lady Abby wouldn’t let that man shoot me, Mamma! She saved my life!”

  A long look passed between the two women. Harriet’s eyes burned with tears. “Did she now? Did she indeed?”

  Chapter 18

  In the days that followed, Harriet no longer cast longing glances at Julian and bitter ones toward Abby. A tenuous relationship began to build between the women, and Abby was glad for it.

  According to the magistrate, Philip’s wound was healing nicely. The official promised to consider Lady Julian’s entreaties that the attempted kidnapper be transported rather than sent to gaol.

  On the evening of her twenty-first birthday, Julian hosted a small celebration after dinner. At Abby’s request, only family and servants were invited.

  Colleen entertained the guests by pulling baby chicks from a hat. Harriet sang several tender songs in a pure alto, and Francis proved a surprisingly good accompanist on the pianoforte. Powell amazed Abby by juggling six plates at once and breaking only two.

  She received gifts from everyone, including the servants. Julian gave her a garnet pendant necklace to match her wedding ring. Since she was wearing a new gown of gold lame that fairly cried for ornamentation, Abby insisted he fasten it around her neck immediately.

  There was a straw bonnet from Harriet and Colleen. A lavender ribbon of the same material as her day dress circled its band.