Susan Carroll (50 page)

But Phaedra swept past her startled cousin to
ease back the hood to peer closer at young woman. She regarded
Phaedra with vacant blue eyes, an uncertain smile trembling upon
her lips.

"Dear God," Phaedra breathed. "Marie."

The fire blazed in the hearth dispensing
warmth through the far end of the music gallery. Candle shine
spilled a soft glow upon the spinet and the couple who sat there.
Gilly's tenor voice crooned a ballad to the girl seated beside him,
who shyly ducked her head. The girl Phaedra had known as Marie
Antoniette.

Since Phaedra had last glimpsed the girl in
Bedlam, Julianna's appearance was altered. Her hair was neatly
brushed, and she wore a pretty gown. But her frame was still too
thin, and there yet lurked a lost, childlike quality to her eyes.
Phaedra had the impression that Julianna still sometimes dreamed
she was the Queen of France.

Phaedra tucked the ends of her shawl more
securely about her. She and James lingered in the cool shadows at
the opposite end of the gallery, watching the other couple. Phaedra
sat in one of the massive armchairs while James paced before her.
He directed a heavy frown toward the spinet. Phaedra had sensed no
diminution of the tension in him since their return to the Heath
yesterday. She was uncertain whether it stemmed from his feelings
toward the old man upstairs, who clung tenaciously to life,
although Sawyer no longer moved or spoke; or if it sprung from the
sight of his sister, who didn't even know him.

Julianna did remember at times that she had a
brother James. But she could not connect that fiery young man with
the tall stranger whose hard features seemed to frighten her.

Gilly stopped singing long enough to guide
Julianna's fingers over the keys. James pursed his lips, and then
resumed what he had been saying to Phaedra before he had become
distracted. "When Gilly and I arrived at the cottage, there was no
sign of Julianna or Mrs. Link. We eventually found out the woman
had died a year ago. Her rascally nephew had been pocketing the
money your grandfather sent all that time. He told us some
taradiddle about other relatives having taken Julianna north to
Scotland.

"It was a long, wearisome search before Gilly
and I discovered that my sister had actually been consigned to
hell."

James's words were such an accurate
description of Bedlam that Phaedra did not trust herself to reply.
She paled as a flood of painful recollections coursed through
her.

James must have noticed, for his grim
features softened. He started to reach for her hand but stopped
himself abruptly and resumed his pacing.

"Bedlam was a nightmare,” Phaedra said at
last. "I hate to think of Jonathan in that dreadful place."

"He won't be sent there, I promise you. He
will be looked after in his own home."

Phaedra knew that James had been to see
Jonathan after the doctor had left, but he dissuaded Phaedra from
doing so.

"Is there any chance that Jonathan will ever
recover?"

"No, I fear not. Neither his eyesight nor his
sanity. When I left him, he was lost in his own world, talking as
though you were there by his side."

Phaedra's lips trembled, her eyes filling
with tears.

“You must not weep for him or blame yourself
for Burnell’s mad fixation upon you," James said brusquely. “He
actually appeared strangely happy, lost in his delusion. Perhap
more so than the rest of us, who must perforce remain in touch with
reality. I sometimes feel that I would have been better off mad or
dead than ever have lived to see-"

He broke off, his eyes fixing broodingly upon
his sister once more. “Julianne was never a clever girl, but always
gentle and loving. Her genius was in her hands, her ability to
breathe life into porcelain. Not only has she lost that talent, but
all sense of herself as well. His voice thickened with anguish.
"Christ! She doesn't even know who I am."

Phaedra swallowed hard, wishing she could
think of the words to comfort him. But James was already composing
himself as Julianna rose from the spinet. The girl shrank back as
Gilly led her across the room. She seemed to be forever clutching
at his sleeve, but Gilly showed no signs of impatience. Phaedra had
never seen her teasing cousin quite so gentle.

"Gilly says it is time that I went up to bed.
I need my rest.” Despite her manner of childlike obedience,
Julianna's eyes were clear. It was one of her better times. At
least she knew who she was. She curtsied to Phaedra. "Good night,
milady."

The girl prepared to skitter away when Gilly
stopped her. He gave an almost imperceptible nod in James's
direction. Only at Gilly's urging, did Julianna approach her
grim-faced brother. Beneath James's stony facade, Phaedra could see
the hurt brim in his eyes.

"Good night, sir," Julianna said in a
breathless whisper and bolted out the gallery's door. Gilly offered
James a rueful smile and prepared to follow her, James said,” "I
need to talk to you, Fitzhurst." His gaze shifted to include
Phaedra. "Both of you."

Although Gilly arched his brows
questioningly, he shrugged and summoned Lucy. He sent the maid to
look after Julianna, and then sprawled upon the chair next to
Phaedra's. Phaedra was uncertain of what was coming next, but the
rigid set of James's face warned her it was not going to be
pleasant.

"Tomorrow I intend to take my sister away
from here," he announced. "It is not fitting that either one of us
should remain under Sawyer Weylin's roof."

Phaedra said nothing. She had been expecting
this. It was Gilly who protested. Sitting bolt upright, he asked,
"But where will you go? It is far too late in the year for you to
think of embarking for Canada."

"I plan to take Julianna to Dr. Glencoe's. I
fancy we would not be unwelcome there."

Gilly relaxed. "Ah, Hampstead? It is not so
dreadfully far. I could still ride over and-"

"No, you couldn't," James said. "I must ask
you to stay away from my sister."

Gilly turned pale, hurt and astonishment
flashing in his green eyes.Phaedra leaped to her feet, glaring at
James.

"How dare you speak as though Gilly means
more than kindness by Julianna! Are you implying that my cousin
would take advantage of her?"

"Nay, Phaedra, it is all right." Gilly rose
and placed a restraining hand upon her arm. "You cannot be blaming
the man. I understand, even if you don't. Very few would want a
papist, an Irish one besides, to come calling upon his sister."

"Damn it. That has nothing to do with it."
James's hard look wavered as he regarded Gilly with an expression
of gratitude and almost brotherly affection. His lips twisted into
a half smile as he said, "You are a damned fine man, Patrick
Gilhooley Fitzhurst. Under other circumstances, I would have been
happy to have you call upon Julianna. But as matters now stand, the
idea of any man courting my sister is absurd."

"I don't quite follow your reasoning," Gilly
said."She has recovered remarkably since we rescued her.”

"Open your eyes, man. She will never be what
she once was."

"I don't know what she was. I only see what
Julianna is now, a gentle lady whose spirits need time for
mending."

"Gilly, for her sake as well as yours, do not
be cherishing any false hope. Her mind can drift away at any
moment. She would never be able to love you as a woman should."

"It is enough that I have fallen that hard in
love with her, so I have,” Gilly said, his jaw jutting in a
stubborn angle. “And whether you like it or not, the lass needs
me.”

James flung up his hands in exasperation. He
turned to Phaedra as though expecting her to reason with her
cousin. But she could not bring herself to do so. She had been
deprived of her own hopes. She would never attempt to shatter
Gilly’s dreams.

Gilly abandoned his belligerent stance and
assumed a more coaxing expression. "Don't be after looking so grim,
James. I'm not saying I expect to wed Julianna tomorrow, next month
or even next year. I only want to be her friend until she grows
strong enough to accept more."

"You could be waiting the rest of your life,"
James said.

"I can be a very patient man."

James shook his head. “When I set sail for
Canada next spring, I will be taking my sister with me.”

"Such a voyage won't be disturbing me at all.
I don't suffer from seasickness."

“You won’t be coming-“ James began, but Gilly
merely grinned and gave him a playful jab in the arm.

Phaedra hid her smile as Gilly sauntered out
the door, whistling. James scowled after him and then a reluctant
laugh escaped him.

"Your cousin is a far bigger fool than I,"
James complained to Phaedra.

"His folly is one of Gilly’s most endearing
traits," Phaedra said softly.

With her cousin’s departure, the music
gallery seemed too quiet. Her eyes met James's and a deep
consciousness rushed between them. Suddenly, they were left alone,
with all that they had shared, the pain of all that could never
be.

They broke eye contact simultaneously.
Phaedra shook out her skirts and said, "It is late. I should be
retiring, too."

James nodded. He didn't even attempt to stay
her. They might well have been strangers, not two people who had
shared the greatest intimacy a man and woman could know. For a
moment, Phaedra hesitated. She had never told James about the life
they had created. But the loss of their child was still too raw a
grief. Perhaps one day she might tell him, but right now, there
seemed little point in adding to burden of sorrow he already
carried.

She curtsied and prepared to leave when she
felt his touch upon her shoulder so tentative, it seemed far too
slight to bridge the gulf of misunderstanding between them.

He said hesitantly. You have not told me what
your plans are, what you intend to do now."

She turned back to face him. "I shall stay
with Grandfather until-until he no longer needs me."

James compressed his lips. "How fortunate for
him. Perhaps I should abduct young girls and send innocent men to
the gallows. I did not realize that was the way to inspire such
devotion.”

Phaedra flinched at his sarcasm. "I know I
should despise my grandfather as much as you do, considering all
that he has done. But I cannot.”

She tried to explain to James some of Sawyer
Weylin's background-the dire poverty and the tragic circumstances
that had led to the death of his young wife.

"I think Grandfather simply grew too hard. He
learned to substitute ambition for love, which is a great pity."
Phaedra added sadly, "For I could have loved him if he had ever
given me the chance. James, my grandfather is not as wicked as
Carleton Grantham was. I don't expect you to ever forgive him, but
for your own sake, please-“

James's flinty tones interrupted her. "I am
planning no more acts of vengeance, if that is what you fear.

"No, I didn't mean-" She drew in a deep
breath. "I am sorry that I ever accused you of being the one who
used the Goodfellow papers against my grandfather. I was hurting
too much to be reasonable. I felt you had rejected all that I
offered you, that you didn't understand exactly how much that
was."

She continued in a small voice, "I never
thought I would trust any man again after Ewan. To put my life
entirely in your hands was not that easy."

"It was not easy for me, either," he
interrupted,"to set aside the anger and bitterness that has
occupied the whole of my waking moments these past seven years.
God, Phaedra, I did try!"

"Perhaps neither of us tried hard enough,"
she said.

James took her by the hand. “Is it so
impossible that we should try again?"

She gazed up at him, her breath stilling at
the depth of love she found in his eyes, the yearning he could not
suppress. Before she could answer him, the gallery door opened.

Lucy thrust her head inside, crying out in a
frightened voice. "Lady Phaedra, you must come upstairs at once.
Your grandfather needs you. He's surely about to die."

Phaedra had no need to disengage her hand
from James's. He had already released her.

As Phaedra walked alone to Sawyer Weylin's
bedside, the lamplight fell across a face withered past
recognition. And yet Phaedra thought Lucy must be mistaken. Her
grandfather appeared more alert than he had for many a day. He was
even trying to speak.

"Grandfather." She caught his hand, the
once-plump flesh seeming to sag over his bones. His skin felt so
cold.”

"That you, girl?"

She had to lean closer to understand his
ragged whisper. "Aye, Grandfather”

His dull gaze roved past her. "Who's that
with you?"

His question made no sense to her until she
realized that James had slipped in silently behind her. Even now
Phaedra felt an impulse to form a protective shield between him and
the old man. She wanted to beg James to go, not to lower himself by
triumphing now. But although James's gaze was fixed upon Weylin,
his blue eyes devoid of pity, she saw no hate burning there,
either.

"Good evening, Monsieur Weylin," he said,
using the French accent Phaedra had not heard for many a day. "It
is I, Armande."

Her grandfather pursed his lips forming the
word "marquis" and then smiled,

Phaedra could not let this farce continue,
not at her grandfather's deathbed. "James, please go," she
whispered.

But he didn't move, never taking his eyes
from her grandfather.

A struggle seemed to wage within James, then
he said, "There is something I need to ask you, monsieur."

No, not now, Phaedra begged silently. It was
far too late to be demanding any more explanations. But James's
next words were so unexpected, she nearly sagged against the
bed.