Nine Steps to Sara (33 page)

“No, it
…
it was an accident,” Gemma stammered, face white as a sheet.  “I don’t know what happened.  Please… if you bring me another cup I’ll drink the whole thing down, I promise!” she pleaded.

“As if I don’t have anything better to do,” Mrs. Poole muttered, picking up the broken pieces of china.  “When I come back, you’ll eat everything on the tray, I don’t care if it makes a repeat performance or not, else I’ll be informing him of your behavior straight away.”

Sara backed away from the scene, not quite sure what had happened there for a moment.  Had she somehow made contact with an event that happened in the past?  Did that mean she could affect something else?  Looking to the open door, she wondered if she could find some way to help Gemma; it was worth a shot, and she had to leave before the door was locked again.  Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder, she darted for the door, shrieking as she came into contact with the solid form of a man’s chest and the golden light faded, instantly shrouding the room in darkness.  Strong fingers encircled her wrists as she flailed to get away and Sara opened her mouth to scream only to have a hand clamped over her mouth. 

“Sara it’s me, Will,” his familiar voice washed over her and Sara stopped struggling.  “What’s come over you?  Are you alright?  You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sara buried herself in his embrace, letting out a hiccupping sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry at the tumult of emotions that threatened to spill everywhere at once.  “A ghost?  I… I don’t know what I’ve just seen.  Maybe I’m cracking up… I don’t know.” 

“There now, it’s alright, there’s nothing to be frightened of, I’m here.” Will held her tight, hand running soothing circles over her back until the storm of emotions subsided.  “What are you doing up here?  It took me forever to track you down.”

“She led me up
here;
I think she wanted me to see where she was kept.”

“Gemma?”

Sara nodded, pulling back to look at the dingy room.  “They kept her here when she was pregnant, I think the second time.  Will, something awful happened in this house.”

“What makes you say that?”

Words tumbling one on top of the other, the story spilled out of what she’d seen in the room, knowing he probably thought she was dreaming it all up, but needing to get it out.  “But that’s not the worst of it.  Here… see?”  Picking up the bible which had fallen to the ground, she pulled him out into the hall where there was more light and flipped it open to the beginning.  “Every single first born child died.”

“
O
f course they all died, the family goes back hundreds of years.”

“No, I mean they all died right away, before every other kid in the family.  Every single one.  See the number one?” she pointed to the page with Jack’s name on it.  “Just like Gemma said, whatever’s going to happen, it’s going to happen to Jack because he’s my first born.”

“But that’s crazy, if something happened to every first born of the line there wouldn’t be a line to continue,” Will frowned.

“That’s just it, in each case the heir becomes the second son.  This is what Gemma’s been trying to warn me about.  She doesn’t want what happened to her to happen to us.”

“But how could that be?  Does it say how they died?”

“No, just the dates.  Is there a local recorder
’s
office where we might find out more information on how they died?”

Will rubbed the scruff on his chin as he thought the question over.  “Not in the village, but maybe in
Dorcester
.”

“I think we should look into it more, don’t you?” 

“I think… you should get some rest,” he laid his hands on her shoulders, concern deeply etched in his features.  “You look quite done in.”

“I don’t think I could sleep knowing there’s something out there that wants to kill Jack for being the heir.”

“You don’t know any such thing.  Just because something happened in the past doesn’t mean it’ll happen again, especially not in this day and age.  You’ve seen how much we all dote on Jack, he’s in no danger.  Sara, I give you my word, I won’t let anything happen to him.  Let’s get a good night’s sleep and we can sort it out in the morning.”

Sara allowed herself to be led back down the stairs, still holding tight to the bible as the only source of proof to her theory.  Maybe Will was right?  Maybe she was tired and overreacting?  Short of taking Jack away, there wasn’t anything she could do about it in the middle of the night anyway.  Still, she was loathe to climb into bed and try to sleep after what she’d been through
,
and found herself lingering in the hall. 

“Will?” she held onto his arm when he bid her goodnight. 

“Yes, love?” he paused,

“I know it’s a lot to ask…”

“You want me to go and fetch you some hot milk?”

“No… not exactly.”

“A brandy then?”

“No…”

“Something to eat?”

“No, it’s nothing to eat or
drink;
it’s more of a personal favor to ask.”

“You want me to check on Jack again?  He’s fine, I tell you.”

“No, I know he is.”  Sara struggled with how to say it the right way and gave up, blurting out, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming to bed with me?”

Will’s brows
rose
and his mouth opened, but no sound came out at first.  Letting out a long breath, his head canted to one side as he studied her in puzzlement.  “I thought you wanted to get some sleep?”

“I do, I didn’t mean… I just… I don’t want to…”

Understanding dawned on his face as he filled in the blanks for himself.  “You’d rather not be alone right now, is that it?”

“Yes,” she breathed a sigh of relief.  “Is that too much to ask?”

“No, Sara, it’s not too much to ask at all.  I’d be happy to keep you safe until the morning comes.” 

“Really?” 
God, did that make her sound desperate?
  Luckily, Will didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he didn’t mind. 

“Really,” his lips curved up into a lopsided grin.  “I’ve been looking for a way to get you into my arms without sounding selfish, so it’s more than fine by me.  Unless you want me to sleep over there?” his head jerked to the seats in front of the fireplace.

“No, of course not, I want you to be comfortable.  I’m pretty sure we can handle sleeping in the same bed together, right?”

Will’s lips quirked into a half smile as he followed her into the bedroom.  “Whether we can or not, I’m dying to find out.”

* * *

Will was already gone when Sara woke, but she had a vague memory of the rasp of his cheek from a brief kiss before he left early that morning.  No nightmares or strange visions sent from Gemma plagued her dreams while she slept contentedly in Will’s arms, and she woke feeling much better rested than she would have thought possible. 

Still early, she picked up Gemma’s diary, intent on finishing the last few pages before she began her day, desperate to learn more about her cruel treatment at the hands of the
N
ine, whoever that was.  There were more gaps as the entries became few and far between, entire weeks skipped, until Sara found a particularly heartbreaking passage about Malcolm being taken away from her.  The tearstained pages offered little in the way of details, but Sara gathered that the baby died the same night he was taken, and she’d moved into a room up on the third floor to better keep watch over Matthew. 

The final entry was difficult to decipher, as though she’d written it in a hurry. 

25
January, 191
8

It is clear to me now that only I know what is best for my child.  To remain here is to invite folly.  I know now what I
must
do, the only way to keep my sweet Matthew safe.  If I do not take courage and act now, I will only have myself to blame when he is lost to me forever. 

G

What had she done?
  Was Gemma
talking about the scene she’d glimpsed in her dream about sending Matthew to America?  Only the first born children seemed to be dying at an early age, not the rest of the children.  Why would she need to send Matthew away?  The questions plagued her all through the shower and going through the motions of getting ready for the day.  The biggest one being… was Jack truly in danger? 

He wasn’t an infant; none of the children who died had ever made it past the age of two.  Was baby Malcolm taken away from Gemma because he was sick and dying anyway or was there something more menacing involved as she thought?  How much of it all was actual danger and how much was panic made up in the mind of Gemma Darling?  Reviewing the conversation between Gemma and her Mrs. Poole, was there anything sinister afoot
, o
r was Gemma being watched over so carefully because she’d already acted rashly, costing them baby Matthew? 

And even if there was… even if Sir Edward was a cold, heartless bastard who was in som
e way responsible for his first
born’s death, he was long dead.  What could that have to do with Jack now?  In the light of day, Sara was hard pressed to figure out what co
uld possibly happen to Jack
by staying in the house.

Heading upstairs to wake Jack up and go through their morning checklist, Sara was surprised to see the nursery already empty.  “Jack?” she called out, ducking her head into the bathroom door, finding it was empty as well.  Deciding he must have gone down to breakfast already, she picked up his dirty clothes out of habit, dropping them into the hamper.  On the way out, she noticed the window was ajar, and Sara hurried to close it; no sense in letting out all the warmth. 

That’s when she heard the whimpering cry. 

Leaning out, a flicker of movement caught her eye and Sara turned to find Jack huddled on the ledge in the corner by the roof of the next wing.  “Jack!” she screamed, clutching at the window frame as a wave of panic made her head swim.  “What are you… don’t… are you alright?”  Jack clung to the side of the house, his face drawn with fear, giving the barest of nods, too afraid to move.  “Stay right there,
d
on’t move a muscle!” she ordered, heart slamming in her chest as she tried to decide how in the hell she was going to get him safely inside. 

In the yard below, a number of men milled around, each working diligently on the yard.  “Will!” Sara yelled at the top of her lungs, trying to catch his attention.  Maybe one of them had a ladder or something that might be able to reach him?  “Will!” she screamed again, but he didn’t so much as look up, oblivious to the drama unfolding above thanks to the drone of earth moving equipment. 

“Mom…” Jack whimpered, the sound tearing at her heart.  “My feet are numb.”

“It’s okay, baby.  It’s go
ing to
be fine.  I’m going t
o get you down, I promise,
stay where you are,” Sara replied as calmly as she could manage, dragging over a small chair to help boost herself up to the window.  A blast of cold air hit as soon as she sat inside the window frame, making her clutch the side, closing her eyes until it passed.  How long had Jack been out there in the cold in his bare feet?

Sara wedged herself in the window, doing her best not to look down.  That was what they always said in the movies. 
Don’t look down…
  Her little canvas shoes probably weren’t the best thing for ledge walking, but she didn’t dare go down to change.  Carefully, she pulled herself up to a crouched position, her spine wedged against the frame for stability. 
So far, so good…
  Only the tough part lay ahead.  How was she going to get to him without slipping and falling?  And how was she going to get him back inside the house without killing them both?