Echoes in Stone (11 page)

His first instinct was wariness. He didn’t want to trust this lovely stepsister of his misbegotten wife. But something deeper, that whatever-it-was that hummed when Jessa was near, pricked at his conscience. For once, how hard would it be to treat a member of the Palmer family with kindness? Perhaps not all of them were lying, manipulative—

“Come along with me, then, Jessa. Let me help you down. We’ll stand here where it happened and I’ll tell you what little I know about the accident.”

Yes, he’d tell her. Perhaps Jessa would be satisfied once she had that information. She’d go back to her mother and leave him and Holly alone, before he had to tell her anything more about her duplicitous sister.

Dash jumped down from the trap, then turned, reaching up to assist Jessa. She leaned forward, putting her hands on his shoulders. He grasped her small waist to lift her down. He recognized his mistake the instant he touched her. The soft weight in his arms ignited memories of holding her in his study, his lips against hers—

He remembered, too, the feel of her in his arms later, when he’d scooped her off the ground, racing up the stairs with her, shouting for Winston and Mrs. Penrose. He’d been frightened out of his wits by her whimpers as she’d retched and heaved in the garden. More so when she’d fainted.

He pulled her close, deliberately allowing her body to slide against his.

She held her breath.

He did not.

He held her too long, but couldn’t bring himself to release her. God, she smelled so fresh. So sweet! There was that faint tang of lemons again, and some unique scent that belonged to Jessa alone.

She leaned into him. Dash set her on her feet, then took a step back. He drew a deep breath, straightening his vest and cravat. He’d have to be careful never to lay a hand on this piece of sweet temptation again. Resignation washed over him. He’d have to have to touch her again when he helped her back into the carriage. God help him. This ride was the most crack-brained idea he’d had in years.

It ranked right up there with marrying Lily.

Careful to stay out of touching distance, he walked beside her to stand on the road just before the edge of a darkened patch of ground.

Jessa looked up at him, her mouth set in a grim, straight line, her brow furrowed. She waited for him to find the words he needed to say.

“Lily was leaving me the night she died.”

The small figure beside him flinched, but didn’t look away.

He stared into the woods. If he had to witness Jessa’s distress, he’d never get through this. He’d recite the facts, somehow get Jessa back into the carriage without touching her, then go have a picnic lunch on some sunny hillock and never think about this place again. But first, he must get through the next minutes.

“I will not now, nor ever, go into detail with you about what led up to her leaving,” he said. “Suffice it to say, Lily wasn’t alone that night. One of my grooms, a brawny, young lad, was with her. His name was Bobby Pengelly. He died in the accident as well. And no—” He shook his head, answering the question others had asked, “He wasn’t simply driving the carriage. There’d been rumors about their behavior.”

Dash drew a deep breath, clasping his hands behind him. “I heard it bruited about he’d been walking out with one of the maids, Katie Cardell, until she got wind of his antics with Lily. She and Bobby had quite a row a few days before the accident. She left with nothing more than a valise and a note on her bed, saying she was going to London to find work among decent people.”

He shook his head. He regretted the manner in which Katie had left. “She’d been Holly’s nursemaid. A bright, lively bit of a girl. Holly was inconsolable for days. She adored Katie.” Dash sighed. “I didn’t blame her for leaving. We were none of us very decent.”

Dash planted his feet apart, in the same stance he so often took on the deck of a ship in choppy seas. He needed to get through this next rough patch of his story. No unnecessary sentimentalism or emotion.

“Lily and I had rows of our own that week, on the rare occasions I saw her. With poor Katie out of the way, she and Bobby had been having a fine old time. Lily was never the retiring sort, but she was wilder that last week than I’d ever seen her. Out of control. Glittering with pent-up energy. She was cutting. Cruel. To the staff, to me, even to Holly.”

He drew his lips between his teeth, biting hard to keep the bitter words from flying out between them. How to describe those last days without causing Jessa more pain? How could he tell her about Lily’s uncontrolled rages, the thrown vases, the screaming invective? How could he tell her he’d finally resorted to locking Lily in her room when he’d found her—

No. Jessa might be Lily’s stepsister, a gold-digger out to steal his money—or worse, take Holly from him—but she didn’t need to know all the sordid details of that week.

“I was in my study, nursing a brandy and my bruised ego. I heard the carriage in the drive. I was in time to see Lily climb up on the box next to Bobby, much as you rode next to me today. It was the larger, closed carriage, but Lily rode next to her lover. I recognized her red dress in the light of the lanterns hung from the carriage. Those damn lanterns.”

He clenched his fists, shuddering. “I ran to saddle my horse and gave chase. But I was too late.”

In his mind ‘s eye, he still saw it, there in the woods before him. Still heard the screams of the terrified horses trapped in their traces. Still smelled the acrid smoke from oil-filled lanterns that had splashed the trees, setting them ablaze. Worse, his nostrils still quivered with the stench of the burning flesh.

“I’m the local magistrate,” he said, “but in this case, I refused to investigate. We called in authorities from the next district. It was determined they either took that last turn too fast or perhaps a deer or other animal jumped out of the woods, startling the horses. The carriage overturned. Bobby and Lily must have been trapped beneath the carriage. They died instantly.”

The choice to lie had come came easily. God forgive him, but she didn’t need to share his nightmares. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d still hear the screams he’d been helpless to stop. The bile rose in his throat, but he fought it back. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “It was January, but we’d had no snow. The ground was dry. The lanterns must have exploded on impact, setting the dead leaves around the carriage on fire.”

The worst of it was said. Dash stood rigid, still gripped in that nightmare vision. “By the time I got here, there was nothing I could do. The carriage was an inferno. I was able to get near enough to cut the one of the horses free. I searched the woods around the carriage for Lily and Bobby, as near as I could get, but the fire…” He blew a great breath through his nose, as if that would somehow clear the memory of smoke that still seemed to linger. “It was like some great, devouring beast.”

Dash waved his hand at the blackened stubs of branches above them. “You can see how high the flames were.” He clenched his jaw, but there was only a little more to tell before he could put this hideous tale behind him. “They found Bobby under the carriage, near where the box would be.” Dash hesitated, wondering how much more Jessa could stand.

“Tell me, Captain. Tell me the rest of it. It can be no worse than what I’ve imagined.”

“Lily was entrapped almost completely under the carriage. I’m sorry Jessa. She was identified only by the pair of tiny diamond earrings she was never without.”

Jessa gave a small cry, sobbing harder, but didn’t faint or even fall to her knees.

“Winston found me that night, sitting by the side of the road. Bless the man, he’s no better with horses than he is with upset stomachs.”

Dash offered Jessa a weak smile, but tears continued to slide unheeded down her cheeks. Her hand, clutching his handkerchief, was fisted at her mouth as she fought back muffled sobs and failed.

He put his arm around her, pulling her to his side. “Winston had been watching the commotion all week. When he heard first Lily, then me, slam out of the house, I believe he feared the worst. In fact his first words when he found me and finally managed to untangle himself from his stirrups, were, ‘My God Dash, what have you done?’ I think he was afraid I’d killed Lily.”

Jessa stiffened at his side.

He pulled her closer. “I didn’t, Jessamine. God knows there was many a time I wished Lily gone. I probably even wished her dead, but not like that. I wouldn’t have wished that hell on my worst enemy.”

He pressed her tear-streaked face to his chest, stoking her back in small circles, soothing her much as he would Holly. “No, Jessamine, I didn’t kill your sister. But I’ve wondered if someone else did.”

16.

Always ready to snatch away every bit of pleasure…

AN HOUR LATER, Dash pulled the carriage off the road, following a narrow trail into the woods until they could go no farther. He tied up the horses, leaving them to nibble the green shoots of grass along the path. He helped Jessa down from the carriage, careful to hold her at an impersonal distance, careful not to slide her the length of his body as he’d done earlier.

Too many emotions were already roiling; he didn’t need to add to the potent mix.

Dash retrieved the picnic basket Cook had supplied, then nodded at Jessa to follow him as he set off down an overgrown path. Soon, the trees gave way to an open meadow. He strode to the far side, sitting the picnic basket in the shade of an oak before turning back to her.

They’d ridden without words after leaving the charred roadside. Jessa had cried until the choked sobs gave way to hiccups, then at last to the occasional, half-stifled sniffle.

Perched beside her, he’d driven the horses at a shambling pace. Now and then, he’d glanced at her, but more often stared straight ahead, lost in the maelstrom of his memories.

“Jessa,” he said. “Look around you. We left death—and Lily—back there on the road. Look at the life around you now.”

She lifted her chin, stepping into the clearing. The grass was soft underfoot, sprinkled with waving bluebells. The sun shone straight down into the heart of the clearing, leaving the outer edges dappled with shade from the surrounding trees.

She untied the bow of her bonnet, slipping it off along with her gloves, then stepped into the circle of light. She closed her eyes, tilting back her head to let the sun fall full upon her face.

“You’ve said barely a word since… Talk to me, Jessa.” Dash’s voice, soft, but full of quiet command, came from the far side of the clearing. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on the quiet space around her.

“The sun on my face— so warm.” Her breath hitched. “I feel so cold, as if I’ll never again be warm all the way through. I know if I stand here too long, it will change—from warm, to hot, to unbearable. Like the fire. Like—”

“No!” Dash’s voice cracked like a whip in the stillness. “No. Don’t bring her here. This is a beautiful place, full of life. Don’t let her darken it for you. For us. Concentrate on the life. Try again.”

Jessa lowered her head but kept her eyes closed. She drew a breath, inhaling the scent of the air. Her nose was still stuffy from her crying jag, but she ignored it, reaching out. “Green. It smells green here. I can smell the dampness under the trees. The dead vegetation rotting there.”

“Those detritus are the remnants of the past, decaying.” Dash waylaid her before she could drift back into sorrow. “All that litter is dead. Gone. In the past. Making way for new life.” Dash’s voice came from a spot close to her.

She opened her eyes to see him standing only a few feet away, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Tell me what you hear,” he said.

She cocked her head, listening. At first, she could hear only the pounding of her own heart. Something about the captain, standing with her in the same shaft of sunlight, made it beat faster.

“Breathe, Jessa. Just breathe. Now, tell me what you hear.”

“Birds. I hear birds, twittering.” She gave Dash a weak smile. “I think they’re unhappy with us. We’ve disturbed their home.” She closed her eyes. “I hear the trees. Or rather, the breeze moving through the trees, the branches and leaves, whispering together.” She concentrated on slowing the beat of her heart to match the gentle susurration of the trees. She watched the captain. The pace of his breaths matched her own.

“Very good,” Dash said at last. “Now come. Let’s find out what Cook has packed for us in that basket.”

He’d taken the time to remove his gloves. She accepted his outstretched hand, his palm warm, firm against hers, the calluses on his long fingers unexpectedly rough. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. It surprised her to find the sensation pleasant, her hand small and safe in his much larger one.

“The only rule,” Dash said, “is that while we are here, you must concentrate on staying in the present. No brooding on the past. No worry for the future. For this little while, let us cry
peace
with one another. We’re simply here as friends, enjoying a picnic.”

Jessa helped Dash spread a quilt under the mottled shade of the trees, then unpacked the feast Cook had made for them. While they nibbled on cold chicken, yeasty bread, and pungent cheese, he continued to prod her away from gloomy thoughts.

Dash’s game was doing them both good. It was as if, by sharing Lily’s story with her, he’d purged a bit of the darkness from his soul. Instead of vibrating with his customary tension, he stretched out next to her on the blanket, leaning back on one hand. He took a bite of a pasty, sighing with pleasure as he chewed. “Look around. Tell me what you see.”

“A carpet of bluebells,” Jessa said. “Blue skies, wispy clouds. The sunlight makes the tops of the trees vivid green.” She looked at him, relaxing for the first time in days. “I see a man on a blanket, with twigs in his hair, breadcrumbs on his cravat, and a spot of jam on his chin.” She laughed and, without thinking, reached to wipe away the strawberry stain.

She jolted. There it was again. She should have expected it by now, that odd tremor that tore through her, astounding her.