Susan Spencer Paul (26 page)

Lillis hugged her arms around herself and let her own tears fall. Memories of her mother flooded her. Always her remembrances of her mother had been vague, seen as they were through the eyes of a three-year-old child, yet suddenly they seemed very clear, and she could almost see the beautiful blond woman who had often come to her nursery and taken her out of her bed to hold and rock her. Lillis remembered perfectly how much she had loved touching her mother’s unbound hair, and how her mother would laugh when she would take fistfuls of the white strands and tug on them.

When Aunt Leta spoke again her voice sounded labored and thin. “Finally—finally she put you back into your bed and made her way to the roof. She threw herself off. She killed herself. Your father—”

Lillis felt the loss as though it had only just happened, as though her mother had only died that moment. She began to tremble, and felt overcome by her grief. She covered her face with both hands and sat on the rushes and wept.

Aunt Leta struggled to regain some semblance of her own composure. Gently she set her arms around Lillis’s shaking body. “There, there, my dear,” she soothed. “Your mother loved you. She loved you, Lillis. You mustn’t cry.”

Lillis shook her head violently. “If she loved me,” she cried, “then why did she leave me?”

“I think,” Aunt Leta replied softly, “that she couldn’t live without your father’s love. Your poor mother was such a sweet and delicate creature. She couldn’t face the anger he had greeted her with. I’m not even certain she was able to understand it, having been so admired as she was for so much of her life. You mustn’t hold it against her, my dear. She loved you as deeply as any mother could love her child, of that I’m sure. She never would have left you if she hadn’t felt she’d had no choice. You must believe that, for it is quite true.”

Lillis cried quietly for several minutes while Aunt Leta comfortingly patted her back. Finally she wiped her face and lifted her eyes. “What happened to my father?”

“Your father found her first. He was never the same after that. Not toward you, or toward his people, or toward anyone else. My honest belief, Lillis, is that he would have forgiven her if she had only waited a little longer. He loved her so very much. She was his whole life. Even though he was hurt, I think he would have gotten over it soon enough.”

Lillis nodded and sniffed. “What happened after that?”

Aunt Leta sat back in her chair and sighed. “After Eleanor’s death, your father became very withdrawn, and perhaps even a bit demented. Other than you and a few particular servants, he didn’t wish to see any living person. He buried Eleanor almost immediately, for when her father heard of her death he demanded that his daughter’s body be brought to her family. He wished to bury her in the family site, you see, with all of the other Denys and Huntingtons. Jaward wouldn’t allow it. Nor would he allow her family to attend whatever sort of funeral there was. He told them, in no uncertain terms, that they were never to come near Wellewyn or ever try to make contact with you. Ever. He said he would rather kill you with his own hands than let them take you from him, and they must have believed him, for they did as he said.

“We only saw him once after Eleanor’s death. He came to Gyer all alone one early evening about six months after she had died, and sat on his horse in the courtyard, demanding to speak with the Lord of Gyer. He refused to come inside the castle itself. I watched the commotion from one of the long windows in the great hall and I remember being shocked at Jaward’s appearance. He was so changed! He looked like an old man, for his hair had turned nearly white and his face was most haggard. When Charles went outside to meet him, his expression filled with a hatred that made him look even more wretched.

“Charles had been quite angry over the months that had passed, as well, and was furious that Elizabeth was pregnant with Jaward’s child.

“They shouted at each other for the longest time, my dear. It was the most dreadful scene, made even worse by the memory of the close friendship they had once shared. At last they made some sort of declaration of war, and then—it was the strangest thing—they fell silent and simply stared at each other, as if they were both completely shocked by what they’d done. Everyone who watched could plainly see that the matter was very painful for them. Your father began to weep, just like a little child, and after a moment Charles began to cry, too. I shall never forget it. Jaward sat on his horse and stared at Charles and cried, and Charles sat on the castle steps and stared at Jaward and cried. So often, Lillis, I’ve thought that what happened to them in that moment was the final blow that killed the last bit of humanity in both those men.

“Your father turned his horse around and left Gyer, and Charles stared after him and cried for nearly an hour. No one was brave enough to go near him at the time, so we let him sit there on the castle steps all by himself. I don’t believe I ever saw my brother more miserable than he was at that time, and I certainly never had seen him cry either before or since. It was his firm belief, you see, that men did not weep for any reason. Why, he didn’t even cry when Elizabeth died, and he was quite horribly hard on Willem when the poor boy wept so openly. But Charles cried over the loss of Jaward. Just before he died, my brother told me that losing your father’s friendship was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Worse than our parents’ deaths, worse than your mother’s death, even worse than Elizabeth’s death. I begged him to let me send a messenger to Jaward to ask him to come, but he would not let me.”

“You should have done it anyway!” Lillis declared angrily.

Aunt Leta nodded. “Yes,” she admitted, “I should have, for I do believe it would have meant a great deal to both men to have reconciled their differences while they still had a chance to do so, but my brother wouldn’t let me, and unless you can understand the kind of life I led under my brother’s hand you cannot understand why I did not disobey him.”

Lillis felt instantly ashamed. “Forgive me, my lady. I never should have spoken to you so rudely.”

Aunt Leta smiled. “I’m not offended, child. You haven’t said anything I’ve not thought a thousand times and more, myself. Do not distress yourself over the matter.” She let out a long sigh and gazed at the fire. “I never saw your father again after that day. More than fifteen years. We heard about him from time to time. Occasionally a servant who had been at Wellewyn would come to Gyer and we would have news of him. He let most of his serving people go, for he wanted to be left alone, and he stopped managing Wellewyn altogether, allowing it to fall into the greatest ruin. You couldn’t have understood these things when you were a child, of course, because your father kept you so very cloistered. You couldn’t have known that the rest of the world lived any differently.”

“No,” Lillis admitted. “I remember being amazed at the things I saw when he sent me away to Tynedale. Even the convent was a revelation to me. Compared to Wellewyn it was quite luxurious.”

“But why did he send you there?” asked Aunt Leta. “There was no need for it. He could have continued to keep you here at Wellewyn.”

“He wanted me to have an education and wasn’t able to afford a private tutor,” she replied. “The sisters at Tynedale taught and trained me in return for my services there. Papa didn’t have to pay them anything, you see. But I was very happy at Tynedale and my father did provide Edyth to accompany me, and having known her has been an invaluable gift in itself.”

They fell quiet again, until at last Lillis said, “My poor mother. How terribly she must have suffered.”

“Yes,” agreed Aunt Leta quietly.

“And my poor father. Is it any wonder that he was so upset when Alexander forced me into marriage? Can you imagine what he must have gone through, knowing that the son of his worst enemy, the son of the man who had been partly to blame for his wife’s death, had married his only child? It must have seemed to him as though your brother had somehow reached out from the grave and destroyed the last and only thing that held any value for him.”

Aunt Leta’s expression was steady. “What you say is true, Lillis, but you mustn’t blame Alexander. He has never known about what passed between his father and yours, and he was still so young when their friendship ended that he has no memory of Jaward at all. You know as well as I that he’s been unable to understand why your father hated him so greatly all of these years.”

“I don’t blame Alexander for any of it,” Lillis said. “I loved my father, but I know very well that he was an angry, vengeful man. He gave Alexander no choice in what happened. Indeed, my father had only himself to blame for my forced marriage.”

“That is quite true, Lillis,” Aunt Leta agreed. “I’m glad to know you feel this way, for I am sure Alexander will appreciate your sentiments once he finally knows the truth.”

“Alexander and I have closed the circle, have we not?” Lillis said. “We love each other and have united the two families. Our children will make the final seal. The wound will be healed now.”

“We must pray it will be so.”

“And Hugh and Hugo are my brothers,” Lillis said with a shake of her head, smiling in disbelief. “My very own terrible, wonderful brothers. What an odd thing.”

“Yes,” said Aunt Leta once more, “though I fear the truth will devastate them. Charles Baldwin loved those boys. They were all he had left of Jaward, and all of the love he’d once felt for Jaward he gave to Jaward’s sons. The twins were his pride and joy, and what they felt for him was, and still is, something close to worship. Do you know, I’ve often wondered why Jaward never tried to make a claim to them, for he certainly must have heard of their birth, and must have known he had two sons being raised at Gyer.”

“I do not know,” Lillis replied. “Perhaps he felt they were better there. Perhaps, in spite of his hatred for Charles Baldwin, he realized the man would raise them well. Perhaps he knew he didn’t have enough love in himself to share with them, especially as he would always have associated them with the events surrounding my mother’s death. Like much of the tale, it is something we’ll never know.” She ran the palms of her hands over her face, and smoothed back several loose strands of hair. “I shall go and fetch the children,” she said, rising to her feet, “and we shall have our midday meal.”

“That would be welcome, indeed,” Aunt Leta said, wiping the last hints of her own tears away. “Our conversation has made me most hungry, I fear.”

“Aunt Leta,” Lillis said, smiling warmly at her, “you are a very kind lady, and I thank you for what you’ve told me this day. I know it was not easy, and for that I thank you all the more. I will forever be in your debt.”

She left before the older woman could give a reply, and in a moment pushed open the door that led to the gardens. She stopped there, at the door, and took in the beauty of the world. How odd it was, she thought, that life could give one so much joy, as well as such great sorrow. Her mother and father were dead and gone. Their passings had been tragic, and their lives had been equally so. Gazing into the cold blue of the December sky, Lillis vowed that she would never allow such misery to alter her own life, or Alexander’s, or their unborn child’s—the child she was now certain she carried.

“All will be well, my little one,” she promised in a soft, private whisper, setting one hand against the place where her child even now grew within her. “I will never leave you of my own free choice, neither you, nor your father again. All will be well.”

A
foot kicked him in the thigh, hard, and the sharpness of the pain radiated all the way into his chin.

“Come now, Alex,” a blurred voice said from far away, “you cannot expect me to spend all night waiting for you to wake, can you? I’ve a great many matters to take care of and you, my Lord Gyer, are the least of them.”

Another kick made Alexander groan. He tried to open his eyes, to bring his muddled thoughts into focus, to simply move. All he could do was groan again.

The voice laughed and came a little closer. “The great Lord of Gyer! Who would have thought he could be so easily turned into a weakling babe with the merest of strikes? My God, I don’t know why I never thought to do it earlier! If I’d known it would be so easy I certainly would have. But come, Alex, for I’m losing patience and haven’t the time to coddle you. Wake up, man, else I’ll kill you without delay and put us both out of our misery.”

Alexander gingerly cracked one eye open, then the other. He blinked once, twice, then finally managed to keep his lids open long enough to see. And what he saw was rather odd. There was nothing but gray everywhere. Gray. He blinked once more and looked again, then realized at last, that he was staring at a bare stone floor. A cold, bare,
hard
stone floor upon which his entire body was stretched out, facedown.

Thinking to turn himself over, he tried to move and found that he could not. He lay thoughtfully for a few seconds, and finally decided that his hands were tied rather tightly behind his back. As soon as his dull brain registered this fact true, Alexander was then able to make a full assessment of his situation. He was lying facedown on a cold, hard, bare floor and he was trussed up like a felled deer. Yes, that was exactly the way things were at the moment. It was strange, he thought calmly, that he wasn’t yet wary of his predicament. Perhaps the painful throbbing on the left side of his head had something to do with that.

Another rough kick, this time catching him in the upper chest, sent Alexander thudding over onto his back and he lay there, helpless as an overturned turtle, blinking up into the dim light of the room.

Someone loomed over him; a familiar face grinned down at him.

“That is better, is it not, Alex?”

“Hello, John,” Alexander replied thickly, his mind reeling. “What’s this about?”

John tilted his head and gazed curiously at Alexander. “Still a bit groggy, are you? I suppose Miles did hit you rather harder than I had expected he would, though you certainly cannot blame the lad for being thorough. Perhaps I can help you regain your senses a little. I do so want you to understand every word I’m about to say to you. I’ve not worked so hard and waited so long for this moment to have you sleep through the whole of it.” He waved one hand in the air and stepped back.

Alexander didn’t have a chance to sort out the words John had said before a wave of cold water poured over him, catching him so thoroughly unawares that a great deal of the fluid splashed into his mouth and nostrils, causing him to choke and sputter. Before he came to any harm, however, two strong hands grasped his collar and yanked him into a sitting position, allowing him the chance to cough the water out. He was roughly propped up with a chair behind his back.

“That should hold him,” a gravelly voice stated.

Alexander sat with his head hanging down, furiously working to calm the wet, choking coughs that gripped him. As uncomfortable as the method was, John had certainly been right about the water clearing his head, and now Alexander strove to understand what kind of danger he was in, and why.

The last thing he could remember before waking here—wherever here was—was walking into his bedchamber after having completed a particularly arduous bout of training with his men, and calling for Fyodor to come and help him bathe and dress. And that was the last thing—the very last thing he could remember. Or was it? He shook his aching head and drew in a long, unsteady breath. What had happened to Fyodor? He hadn’t been in the chamber or, at least, he hadn’t answered Alexander’s call. Someone else must have been there. Someone who had evidently been able to hit him on the head hard enough to cause him to lose his senses. Someone, or some ones, rather, who’d been strong enough to carry him out of his room and to...where? His breathing was slower now, calmer. He cautiously lifted his head.

The chamber was filthy and very dark. The only light came from the flame of a small candle placed on a nearby table, hardly bright enough to illuminate more than a few inches of the dusty, muggy atmosphere. Alexander’s eyes moved over what he could see of the room. There was a great deal of clutter, though nothing truly distinguishable in the darkness. Two men stood out of the weak sphere of light so that Alexander couldn’t tell who they were. They looked big from the outline of their shapes, and their stances were watchful and taut, their arms folded against their chests. John stood closer by, leaning against the table and looking happy and relaxed. His arms were also folded across his chest, though loosely, and he had one ankle crossed over the other in a posture of comfort. He was still grinning.

“Feeling better now, Cousin?” John asked politely.

Alexander growled at him. “What game is this, John Baldwin? You were supposed to be out hunting these past two days.”

“Yes, that’s true,” John agreed pleasantly. “In fact, I’m still out hunting. There will be all manner of witnesses who will testify to having seen me and my men as far away as Chestershire this very hour and day.”

Alexander didn’t need to have this statement explained; the meaning was all too clear. “Witnesses, you say? So that’s the way of it, is it?”

“Aye, Cousin, it is.”

“I see. And where exactly are we? I suppose I have a right to know where my place of death is to be.”

John laughed with delight. “You don’t know where you are, Alex? I’m shocked, truly. Lillis would be wounded to know that you didn’t remember this chamber.”

Remembrance washed over Alexander just as the water had. “Ah,” he said with a short nod, “my wife’s room of initial imprisonment.” He looked around the filthy place again and shuddered, disgusted to think that his beautiful wife had ever been kept here for so many hours. Another thought struck him. He turned to look at John again. “We’re still at Gyer?”

“Yes,”John replied simply.

“And you plan to kill me here, at Gyer? In this room?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“I suppose I should have expected something like this from you, and been on my guard, though to be honest I always thought you little more than a spineless wart and incapable of such a deed. But let me ask, do you think it wise to kill me in my own home? Do you not fear being caught for the crime?”

“Not at all, Alex,” replied John easily, lifting one hand to inspect his nails, “though I do appreciate your concern. But there’s really nothing for you to worry over. It’s going to be very neatly done, you see, and there will be no clues left to lead to me. In fact, my dear cousin, your death will be seen as a suicide rather than as a murder.”

Alexander’s eyebrows rose in interest. “Is that so,
dear
Cousin? I’m sorry to disappoint you, then, but I’ve no intention whatsoever of killing myself—not now or ever. And especially not in the near future.”

John chuckled. “But of course you have, Alex. Everyone knows how terribly unhappy you’ve been since you and your lovely wife have parted ways. It’s common knowledge that you’ve been drinking heavily night after night, and that you’ve been letting the estates run into mismanaged ruin. Why, all the castlefolk have been able to speak of little else save how depressed their lord is, and how quiet and withdrawn he has become. I, myself, shall have to come forward after your funeral and reluctantly tell of the many, many times when you privately expressed your misery to me, and of the countless times you told me that you would rather die than go on without your beloved Lillis. And Barbara will finally admit to the nights when, in your misery and loneliness, you drunkenly tried, and failed, to find relief in her open arms. Your failures added to your misery and feelings of your lack of manhood, of course.”

“Of course,” Alexander said angrily. “There’s only one problem with your plan, lackwit.”

“Oh, and what is that?”

“It’s all false! That’s what! There’s not a person in all of Gyer who would believe such a ridiculous pack of lies! Those in the castle know that Lillis and I have reconciled our differences and are planning to end our separation, and no one has seen me either depressed or drunk or lazy, for I’ve been none of those things. If anything I’ve been working even harder in order to make Gyer ready for Lillis’s return, and
that
is what they have seen. Letting Gyer run into ruin, indeed! I truly would have to be dead to ever let that happen.” Alexander struggled against his bonds with frustration. “By God, John, if I could get out of these damned ropes I would break your face in six different places!”

“Yes, I do believe you would, Alex,” John said pleasantly, “if you could get out of those damned ropes, which, of course, you cannot. Now, as to everything you say, I must agree that you are, in truth, correct. However, if there is one valuable lesson I’ve learned in my life it is that people are very, very easy to manage. A few rumors dropped here and a few words of doubt dropped there and very soon even our sweet Aunt Leta will be recalling instances of your deep and dreadful depression.” He laughed and pushed away from the table, walking closer to where Alexander sat, helplessly bound. “Human nature, Cousin,” he said with a shake of his head, “is a wonderful thing.” He squatted down until their heads were almost level. “In fact, I do believe it would be quite true to say that people are easier to lead along than sheep. Do you not think so?”

“What I think,” replied Alexander, glaring at him, “is that you are an idiot.”

John grinned and leaned forward just enough so that he could take hold of one of Alexander’s eyebrows and tug it painfully. He laughed when Alexander grimaced, and said, “I’d not test me too far, were I you, Cousin, especially not when you know full well that I’ve the power to make your death a long and painful one. Indeed, you should be grateful that I know how to compromise. I’d have preferred to make you suffer, but in the end I had to bow to the necessity that your death must be quick and, therefore, relatively painless. But only relatively. If I cannot give you physical pain, I can at least enjoy giving you mental pain.”

“Indeed? I suppose you’ll tell me why you want me dead, then?”

“Oh, yes, dear Cousin, I’m going to tell you. But would you not like to try and guess first?”

“What I would like to do is break every bone in your body,” Alexander said, “but I’ll play your guessing game, if only to amuse myself. You want to kill me because I set Barbara aside.”

“No,” John said. “It would have been easier if you had married Barbara, but I was already planning on killing you long before you set her aside.”

“Well, it’s good to know that I’ve been supporting a crazed murderer in my home these past many years,” Alexander commented dryly. “Next you’ll tell me that the lady I was betrothed to since I was a boy was also planning on murdering me.”

“Barbara was helping me, true, but she didn’t exactly know I was planning on killing you.”

“She didn’t
exactly
know?” Alexander repeated incredulously.

John shrugged. “You know what Barbara is. She probably understood well enough what my intentions were but didn’t wish to dwell on them. Ignorance is bliss, you know.”

“My God!” Alexander whispered, shocked. “My God!”

“Yes, I know,” John commiserated, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Love is a blinding nuisance, is it not? And you were certainly blind when it came to Barbara. When I think of how easily she wrapped you around her childish finger I am truly amazed. The great Alexander Baldwin, Lord of Gyer, led about like an obedient dog by a tiny, silly little creature like Barbara. Human nature, I tell you, Alex. It is simply astounding!”

He stood. “But I’ve little time to waste in discussing such matters with you, Alex. I’m sorry, but you must understand how much I have to accomplish tonight. Shall I simply tell you why I’m going to kill you and then we can get on with it?”

Alexander didn’t think he had ever heard such a cold statement in all of his life. “I suppose so,” he muttered angrily, casting about for a way to get out of this ridiculous situation.

“I wish to be Lord of Gyer, of course. I’m surprised you hadn’t thought of that. It’s not a purely selfish desire on my part, for I do feel that I’m much more suited to such greatness than you are. You’re really too common to be in such a powerful position, Alex. Too common and too...dull, I suppose you could say. The Lord of Gyer should be a man of cunning, a man of sharp wit and high intelligence.”

“And you are that man?”

John smiled and graciously half bowed. “As you see. But that isn’t the only reason I desire to inherit the position. Mostly I want to do it for Barbara, to see her happy and well cared for. My sister deserves the very finest things in life, as I am sure you will agree, or once would have agreed, and I shall be able to give them to her when I am master here.”

“But you said that you meant to kill me even if I’d married Barbara,” Alexander stated, tugging at his ropes again. “If we had married I would have given her everything I owned to make her happy. And while we were betrothed I gave her anything she asked for, from jewels to the finest gowns. Yet you still wanted me dead?”

“I was willing to have Barbara safely settled as the Lady of Gyer before your death, Alex, but you cannot think that I actually wished my beloved darling to be chained to a man like you for the rest of her life.” A shudder physically passed through John. “God’s body! Just the thought of her having to put up with your advances used to make me ill. My poor, sweet girl! The way you used to drool all over her was sickening!”

Though Alexander was in an extremely vulnerable position and knew that he was possibly facing death, he still had the presence of mind to know when he was being insulted. “What exactly is wrong with being married to a man like me?” he demanded.