Gene of Isis (13 page)

In the carriage on the way to the wedding breakfast Mr Devere asked about our travel plans beyond France. I was not yet ready to disclose my true destination to anyone, so I said that I was still contemplating destinations, as there were so many I was interested in. ‘India, Persia, South America, Van Diemen’s Land!’ I listed just about every place but the one I truly did want to visit, and laughed when my husband appeared wary of my choices, all the while stating he’d follow me anywhere.

At the breakfast there were many lovely toasts and speeches made by the parents of the newlyweds, but none was so surprising as that of my father, who managed to sound genuinely affectionate and proud of me.

Thus, after the formalities were out of the way and we were at liberty to mingle with our guests, I thought I’d seek Father out and make my peace with him. I was so full of love and excitement that I didn’t wish to be at odds with anyone. Still, before I found him, another dear friend caught my attention.

‘Lady Charlotte.’ I fell on one knee to embrace her where she sat. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’ I wish I could have said she looked well, but her soul-mind was growing tired of being restricted by an ageing vessel.

‘Mr Devere’s memory proved accurate after all.’ She smiled, pleased for me, and suppressed a cough.

I had forgotten that I consulted her about Mr Devere, but I now suspected that she’d known our marriage was destined all along. ‘As a prophet you are second to none,’ I whispered, to her amusement, although she shook her head to disagree.

‘Your career will far outshine my own,’ she said in all seriousness. ‘You have made a good match.’ She glanced over to Mr Devere. ‘He is very much in love with you,’ she said. ‘Never doubt that he is on your side.’

‘I don’t doubt that any more,’ I told her, as I stood once more and looked for my father. I spotted him in a quiet corner of the room, chatting with two gentlemen. Two gentlemen that I recognised, for they were the ones who were trying to warn off Lord Hamilton. ‘Who are those two gentlemen?’ I pointed them out to Lady Charlotte, my heart beating in my chest. What were they doing here? Why were they talking to my father? What was their interest in me and my marriage to Devere?

‘I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.’ Lady Charlotte strained her eyes, but chances were she
couldn’t see them properly. ‘Perhaps they are guests of the Devere family?’ she suggested.

I looked around for Mr Devere and waved my husband over when I spotted him. ‘Did you invite those gentlemen?’ I pointed to where my father stood talking with the men in question.

‘I don’t believe so,’ he replied. ‘As far as I know the wedding guest list was complete before we decided to join the festivities.’

This was quite true. I wanted to tune into my father’s thoughts and find out what he was thinking right now, but with so much noise and so many people in the room I doubted I’d have any success. I was too excited also, and my emotions were all over the place. ‘I’m going over there.’

The fire and fear underlying my words caused Mr Devere to pull me up. ‘Why don’t I find out who they are?’

‘Where are you going?’ Susan distracted both of us. ‘It’s time for the cake.’

She motioned to the huge three-stepped pyramid covered in white icing and flowers as it was wheeled into the room on a giant trolley. Three pairs of miniature newlyweds sat on the highest layer of the cake.

We were so taken with the sight that our mission was forgotten, which proved long enough for the men and my father to depart.

‘Where are they?’ I searched with Devere’s aid to no avail, and was eventually persuaded by my closest company to rejoin the festivities, as our guests were waiting.

At the end of the morning’s festivities, Mr Devere and I were deposited in a carriage piled high with our luggage, and sent on our merry way to our honeymoon in France.

‘And that’s all there is to it.’ Devere turned to me in pleasant spirits. ‘Now you are stuck with me for worse or better.’ He grinned, nearing to kiss me, longer and deeper than he ever had before.

I was enjoying the experience immensely when I was suddenly swept back to Hartsford Park, where I saw myself knee deep in water as I grabbed to save my bonnet from being swept away by the wind.
She is the one,
he’d thought at the time, recalling Lady Charlotte’s prophecy.
At home in the wilds, she’ll have the look of a wood nymph about her.

The pleasure I felt in my own body urged me to withdraw from his thoughts. His hand had come to rest upon my left breast and it tingled in anticipation of a closer acquaintance with him. I was surprised when Mr Devere retreated first.

‘Whoa.’ He held his head and laughed. ‘Your kiss evokes euphoria.’ I thought him joking until
he closed his eyes to regain his equilibrium. Still, he didn’t seem discomfited, but, rather, in high spirits.

It occurred to me that perhaps probing someone’s mind at such close range might be draining. I didn’t know, as I’d never been that close to someone before. Or perhaps it was just the high psychic energy of my being sending his being into overload? And then again, perhaps he’d just had too much to drink? ‘Are you all right?’

‘I shall live,’ he assured me with a beaming grin. ‘But if that’s what a kiss will do to me, well…heaven help me.’ He chuckled, as did I when I caught his meaning.

To distract me from the heat of the blush rising in my face, I decided I’d best voice something that was haunting me. ‘I need to see my father.’

‘What…before we leave London?’ Mr Devere seemed surprised by my request.

‘I have to know who those men were,’ I told him honestly.

‘Why?’ he inquired, genuinely interested.

‘Because I believe they had something to do with Lord Hereford’s murder.’ My reason confused him.

‘But Lord Hereford died of natural causes,’ Devere said, stating the official truth of the matter.

‘No he didn’t.’ I was adamant. ‘And if my father had something to do—’

‘Wait one moment.’ Devere tried to calm me down. ‘How do you know those men had something to do with Lord Hereford’s death?’

‘Because they threatened him with death if he persisted with his plan of marriage…they wanted me to marry you.’ My eyes came to settle on his face, which was absorbed in thought.

‘As did your father.’ Mr Devere followed my line of thought. ‘You seriously think Lord Suffolk hired men to threaten Lord Hereford?’

‘I don’t know what to think, and that is why I need to see my father.’ I awaited his approval.

‘You know that we are expected for dinner with the rest of the wedding party. We wouldn’t want to offend our host, Lord Rochester—’

‘I never spend long in Father’s presence, so this shan’t take long, I assure you.’

‘Very well,’ and he rang the bell to alert the driver to a detour.

Devere insisted that I let him accompany me to see Lord Suffolk.

‘My father is hardly going to harm me when he knows you await me in a carriage downstairs.’ I preferred him to stay put.

‘Are you going to use your talents to get the information you desire?’ Devere whispered before I stepped out of the carriage.

‘My father has perfected a way to block me out when he needs to.’ The fact made me smile as his method was childish, but effective. ‘I’m hoping he might just tell me the truth for a change.’

I knew I was being seriously optimistic, but I scaled the stairs full of purpose nonetheless. Needless to say my father was surprised to see me.

‘Shouldn’t you be halfway to France by now?’ He motioned me to take the seat opposite, but when I declined, he stood. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘I saw something that I hope is not as malign as it appeared to be.’

‘Are we talking about the real world, or one of your visions?’ Father was looking uncomfortable already.

‘A little of both, I’m afraid.’

I saw his light-body dull, but he did not become angry. Instead, he leant his arm on the mantelpiece and hung his head like a man fed up. ‘I cannot carry this any more, and I am weary of trying to hide the truth from you.’ He looked at me as if he feared something terrible: much the same look Lord Hamilton had given me the night before he’d been killed. ‘It is my fault that you are the way you are.’

Was he speaking about my pigheadedness? No. My father was referring to my psychic ability—surely he was not psychic himself? ‘How can you have been responsible for my talents?’

Father sat down in his chair, wearied by the memory. This time when he invited me to sit in the chair opposite, I obliged. ‘When I was told that your mother was from an ancient line of Elven princesses, naturally I took the information to be an old family myth of some kind. For the Elven bloodline can be traced back to the Albigensian Crusade. In the language of old Provence a female elf was an
albi,
and Albi was the name given to the main Cathar centre of resistance in Languedoc. It is said that many of these ancient bloodline of kings fled the bloody crusade the church was waging against the Cathars and settled in Scotland.’

That seemed to explain my mother’s dying words to me. No wonder my being committed to an asylum at the age of eight had affected her so adversely, for in all probability she felt responsible for my incarceration.

‘Nevertheless,’ Father continued, ‘I was in love with her and her father made it plain that if I was to marry her, then I had to join the ancient order that protected the royal bloodline of the family.’

‘What name does the order go by?’ I didn’t want that detail omitted.

‘By many different names,’ he grouched, not liking to be interrupted, and I decided to press the matter later. ‘Their members are to be found among the rich, famous and powerful who secretly oppose church rule. Being no fan of the church myself, I joined gladly. I went to their meetings, studied their doctrine and commenced my initiation phase…the first of which took place on my wedding night. Before I lay with your mother,’ his voice became very uneasy and it wasn’t that he was embarrassed, more frightened, ‘the men of the family performed a rite and then fed me a glowing liquid, which to this day I cannot identify. The next thing I knew, your mother was pregnant with you.’ He shrugged.

‘We didn’t spend all these centuries creating Miss Granville so that you could abscond with her.’
I remembered the claim of the gentlemen who had threatened Lord Hamilton and it sent shivers down my spine. I
had
been bred, after all. ‘What do they want with me?’

‘They only wish the bloodline to be sustained and prosper. I don’t know why. I quit the order soon after the drinking incident.’ Father was growing weary of the subject already. He hated the supernatural and now I was beginning to see why.

‘And how is Mr Devere involved in all this?’

Father shook his head. ‘I don’t know that he knows any more than you do. All I know is that when he made his proposal, I received a visit from some of your mother’s long-quiet brethren, who advised me to condone the marriage to Devere and condemn the proposal of Lord Hereford.’

‘They threatened Lord Hereford directly,’ I informed my father. ‘I even suspect they may have had him murdered.’

‘I wasn’t going to say I warned you,’ Father said gently, smiling at the fact that I was aware of my stalkers before he had confessed. He obviously didn’t think murder was beyond consideration. ‘You know that you’ll never prove it, Ashlee. You are an intelligent woman…so go travel, and live a long and happy life with your new husband.’

I looked at him, shocked. He’d never referred to me as intelligent before.

He knew why I was shocked. ‘Any impression I gave you to the contrary was just my own guilt speaking. I feared your power. I feared that your power would cause you pain and anguish, and it very often has. I made some bad decisions—’

‘And some good ones,’ I cut in, wanting to reassure him. ‘I love what I am, and I would not have it otherwise. You were not to know.’ I found myself hugging him and comforting him like a small child.

‘I never wanted any harm to befall you.’ He trembled as he spoke.

‘No harm has ever befallen me.’ I imposed on him lightly, rubbing his back to calm him. ‘If it did, I feel quite certain it would not be your fault.’ I held him at arm’s length, rather teary-eyed myself. ‘I am my own creation. You can admire me, but you cannot claim responsibility for my destiny. Only I have that privilege.’

This was the first time I ever saw my father truly happy. I felt a great weight had lifted from my shoulders as I left his house. The complexities of
one relationship were resolved as I now moved into a whole new phase of my life.

Evening fell and I was still in a carriage, en route to join the rest of our wedding party for dinner and an overnight stay at Lord Rochester’s estate. My head rested on my husband’s shoulder, while I gazed at the late spring landscape of Kent as it rushed by.

Father had not told me the name of the order to which he’d belonged, as he knew I would seek them out. Still, the little he’d told me of the order led me to wonder.

‘Do you belong to any secret societies?’ I sat up to ask Devere.

‘Do those kind of brotherhoods still exist?’

His question seemed to answer mine. ‘So, what do you know about this ancient bloodline of Kings we both belong to?’

Devere appeared startled by my knowledge. ‘I never did get around to telling you about that. Did Lady Charlotte mention it?’ He didn’t want to accuse me outright.

I could have lied. Still, if I was going to make a go of my marriage, I felt the truth was best. ‘No. I read your mind that night at Hartsford Manor.’

‘So…that was the cause of your hasty departure that night?’ Devere smiled, but I couldn’t tell if he felt amused or violated. He folded his arms as he thought about the premise some more. ‘And have you been digging around in my head on a regular basis?’

‘No, only that once. Oh, and when you kissed me earlier…but that wasn’t purposeful on my behalf,’ I realised.

‘And what did you perceive from me then?’ he queried, unable to suppress his grin, as he felt sure he’d had sex on the brain.

‘I saw your memory of me in the stream at Hartsford Park,’ I told him honestly and he seemed surprised and rather relieved.

Devere recalled the moment. ‘The scene reminded me of something John Keats wrote.

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful
—
a faery’s child.

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

I smiled at his romantic notion. ‘A very beautiful way to avoid my question.’

His amorous mood ebbed, no doubt due to my obvious lack of romance. ‘What do I know about my bloodline? Well, I know I’m descended from Robin Hood,’ he said cheerily. ‘He was Robert de Vere.’

‘And?’ I prompted and he shrugged.

‘My family have always been close to the Crown of England and France, and so have many families. The Cavandish family for example.’

‘My father was made to join a secret brotherhood if he wished to marry my mother, and yet you have not been approached by anyone?’ I thought this odd as my blood and talents were obviously prized by some.

‘I feel I have grown beyond need of a group of allies,’ he announced, obviously not taking me very seriously. ‘And besides, they don’t sound like a very nice organisation if they would threaten a dear fellow like Lord Hereford.’

I went quiet for a moment as I contemplated all I had been told.

‘May I ask you something?’ Devere took my hands in his to get my attention. ‘You said that you’d promised Lord Hereford that you wouldn’t invade his mind—’

‘On purpose,’ I added and gave a nod. ‘Yet he never assumed to be so intimate with me as you are, Mr Devere.’

‘Then perhaps you might enlighten me as to your father’s secret defence system, so that I have some means to defend myself?’

‘If you have a clear conscience then why should you need such a defence system…hmmm?’ I toyed with him.

‘But what if I wanted to surprise you? I should have precious little chance of ever doing that.’ He struck me as a man who would get great pleasure from giving such gifts.

‘I do like surprises,’ I confessed, mulling over if I should grant his request for information. He couldn’t use this means if he were sleeping, so if I ever really needed to extract information from him, I could. His lips gently pressed against my breastbone.

‘Please,’ he uttered, and sat upright to appeal for mercy with his big baby blues.

I reached up and played with a blond ringlet that was tucked behind his ear. It twirled around my finger and was smooth and pleasing to touch. ‘Very well, I will tell you.’

He turned his face into the palm of my hand and kissed it.

‘It’s childish,’ I admitted, ‘but it does work. Father just repeats over and over in his mind, “I’m not thinking about anything”, until I give up trying to get inside his head.’

Devere laughed. ‘Shall we give it a try?’ He moved in closer.

‘I’m game if you are.’ I kissed him and for a while I was immersed in the act, then, the next thing I knew I was looking down on myself, naked on a bed. I was being made love to, and I would have thought it was my own future sight or imagination, but then I realised I was experiencing the act from Devere’s point of view. It was strange and I pulled away.

Devere appeared in a daze again, as we gazed at each other in shock and awe.

‘It doesn’t work,’ we both concluded solemnly in unison, before bursting into laughter.

Although my wedding night was not all that a wedding night perhaps should be, it still turned out to be the best night of my life to date.

Until dawn, my dear Devere and I lay about on our bed talking, eating and getting intimately familiar with each other’s body. Although my monthly condition did not lend itself to marriage-night favours, that did not prevent my husband taking a very distinct interest in the rest of me. My breasts were a particular distraction for him, as he kept untying my chemise to admire and fondle them. The caresses of his hands and mouth were heaven to my senses, and something of a tease. Now I was the one cursing the bad timing of our wedding day, and yet Mr Devere made it plain that he was in no rush.