Fortune's Mistress (23 page)

She looked down at him, and felt the love stream forth. If he would have it that way, she felt not the least desire to protest. What was it Maggie had said?
Let the dead past bury its dead.
She was right. Marianne might at last turn her back on the dead past and, if she could, think no more on it.

“
But I wish to tell you something of my own past,” he went on, “for I think it may help you to sort the oddly tangled threads of fate, to show that you know nothing at all of sin.” He allowed his words to drift into silence.

He stood and paced distractedly a few mo
ments, then stopped, and faced her. “There stands before you,” he said, “one who has in his life done great harm. Irreparable, so I once thought.”

“
Hush,” she said softly. “You need not— “

“
But I must. I have never told this story before, but I beg you will listen to me. Surely
you
will understand my need to tell it.”

His gaze and manner were so full of earnest entreaty
, she swallowed hard and nodded.

“
You will have guessed,” he began, “that my origins are far from this tranquil countryside. My father was a baron, and my mother the daughter of an earl. As an only child, I was indulged past all endurance. Whatever I wanted, I had. Whatever I did was praised out of all reason. I was raised, in short, to believe that the sun rose and set for my convenience.

“
Not surprisingly, I grew up quite wild. Those tendencies of youth which are repressed in young women were fostered, even encouraged, in men. When I came on the town, a more dissolute excuse for a man could not have been found. I gamed and drank and kept company with those as bad as I.

“
Shortly after my first season on the town, I repaired to Ravenshead, a hunting lodge we kept in the country. I took several like-minded companions with me. We did little hunting, for the most part drank and rode wild about the countryside, worrying the cattle and making life difficult for the farmers thereabout.

“
We had been late at an inn one night, playing cards and drinking rum. We should have slept away our debauch there, but instead rode recklessly through the fields as dawn was beginning to break.” He shook his head. “I remember the trees crashing by as I rode, and laughing as the twigs raked at my coat. I broke through into a clearing. I was on them before I knew it.”

Marianne looked at him, her eyes wide with the import of what he was telling her. He knelt by her side.

“Children,” he whispered. “Little girls gone a-maying. They scattered before me, their flowers flying, but one of them fell. I could not stop my horse in time and rode her down.”

He said nothing more for a moment. The si
lence around them reverberated with the horrible scene he had just depicted. Marianne lay a hand on his head and stroked it, as if he were a small boy.

“
The child, you see, was Annie.”

“
Annie,” she gasped. “But how—?”

“
She has never remembered anything of the incident. Her parents died the next year, and I took her into my care.”

“
Renounced a barony and devoted your life to medicine,” she whispered.

“
I have done what I could. Powers greater than I have used me for their tool. I follow the dictates of my heart, knowing it is inspired by the will of Heaven.” He looked at her speakingly. “And Heaven has granted me love.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, entirely at a loss. Of despair she knew a great deal, but of happiness almost nothing. How must she re
spond? He knew the worst of her; indeed they knew the worst of one another. At her side, he picked up a small leather-bound volume from the table and riffled through it.

“
When first we met,” he said softly, “we quoted lines from
The Tempest.
But we neglected the bard’s best words.” He found his place and read to her, “ ‘Let us not burthen our remembrances with a heaviness that’s gone.’ The
nightmare is over for both of us. I pray you will let go the past, Marianne, and accept me as your future.”

She knew that if she tried to speak, she would sink once more into tears, so full was her heart. She could picture the years ahead, full of chil
dren, their own and those who were drawn to them to be mended. Years full of laughter and love. She raised her eyes to him and nodded. He took her hands and drew her to him. She came without demure. In the firelight’s glow, they held one another calmly, lovingly, with faithful expectation of a lifetime spent thus.

Those who looked down from above smiled in approval, as they watched the future unfold against a dim horizon of years. They saw sisters reunite, small cousins meet and embrace, and a hundred hearts open like flowers in the grace these lives endowed. From the cradle, Felicity murmured in her sleep, basking in the golden light of forgiveness.