When the Heavens Fall (18 page)

There is a gentleman to see you, sir.”

Quentin looked up from the book he was reading. “Who is it, Mark?”

“He's a soldier, sir. His name is Caleb Carter. He wishes to speak with you.”

“Show him in, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quentin knew the name well. His brother had told him Carter had brought news of Brandon's disgrace and disappearance. He knew Carter had been a good friend to Brandon. Might he have gained further word of his nephew

As soon as the door opened, Quentin went forward and put his hand out. “Come in.”

“I appreciate you seeing me, sir.”

“Please sit down. I'll have a servant bring some fresh cake and something to drink.”

“That would suit very well.”

Quentin moved to the door and called out, “Mark, bring some ale, please, and some of that cake I favor.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quentin seated himself and studied his visitor. Carter was a tall man with a wealth of brown hair and warm brown eyes. There
was a neatness about him that one expected in a good soldier, and his complexion was tanned from outdoor living. “I want to express my thanks to you. My brother told me how much trouble you went to and what a friend you tried to be to my poor nephew.”

“Well, it was not much, Reverend.”

“Oh, don't call me that! I hate titles. It was indeed very much appreciated by our whole family.”

“I wish I could have done more.” Carter shook his head. “I did everything I could, but as you know, he's a stubborn fellow.”

“Yes, I have reason to know that.”

Carter cleared his throat. “I don't know if I'm out of line or not, sir, but I thought you might like a word about Brandon. Perhaps I should have gone to Brandon's parents, but I thought you might do that. It might be best for them to hear it from kin.”

Quentin asked alertly, “You know where he is?”

“Why, yes, sir, I do.”

“We've tried everything to find him.”

“Well, I can tell you where he was two days ago. I assume he's still there.”

“And where is that, Mister Carter?”

“Dover. He's in Dover.”

“In Dover? I would never have thought of looking for him there. I thought perhaps he had left the country. We've been terribly worried.”

“So have I, sir.”

“Is he ill?”

Carter shifted uneasily in his seat and seemed reluctant to answer. At that moment Mark came in with a tray of ale and cakes. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, this will be fine. Thank you, Mark.”

As soon as Mark left the room, Quentin said, “Help yourself to the cake.”

Carter seemed to be glad of the distraction, as if he hesitated to say what he had come so far to say. He took the ale and
tasted the cake, which he pronounced to be very good indeed

Finally Quentin could no longer endure the suspense. “What is it that's troubled you? Something about Brandon, I assume.”

“Well, sir, the good news is that Brandon isn't sick. As I understand it, he had a hard time. He was beaten rather severely, and when he left the inn he wasn't completely healed. I was at a gaming house in Dover. I gamble a little myself, nothing very seriously. A soldier doesn't make enough for that—”

“And you saw Brandon there?” Quentin interrupted

Caleb nodded. “Yes, sir, I did.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was playing cards, as you might expect in such a place.”

“How did he look?”

“Better than ever. He was more finely dressed than I had ever seen. Of course, I'd only seen him in his uniform, but you could tell. He had an expensive ring on his finger and fine clothes.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“Oh, yes, of course I did. I waited until the game was over, and I went up and greeted him. He was glad to see me, or at least he seemed so.”

“There must be something more. Tell me what you learned.”

“You won't like it, sir.”

“I gathered that, man. Now out with it.”

“I'm afraid, sir, that he's taken up with a gypsy woman and he's become a rather infamous gambler. He never loses, or almost never, and he's almost been called out by several men he's beaten. There are some who call him a cheat.”

“He was always good at cards. What about this woman?”

“Well, she's very beautiful, and there's a man in the picture somehow. Both gypsies. The man wears gold rings in his ears, just as you'd expect, you know. Anyway, Brandon wouldn't say much about himself, and when I asked him about his family, he cut me short. He said, ‘I haven't talked to them. They don't need a chap like me.'”

“I tried to reason with him and tell him how much his family cared for him, but he wouldn't listen. The woman listened, though. She hated me. I could see that. I'm sure she had a knife on her, and she would have used it if I had talked Brandon into coming with me.”

“So he wouldn't listen at all?”

“No, I'm afraid not. I didn't know what else to do, so I came here. And facing Mrs. Winslow . . . I simply could not find it in me.”

“I'm very grateful to you, and my family will be too, in time. Leave it to me to talk to Heather. She'll take comfort from the fact that her son is alive, but you are right—it will be difficult for her to learn what has become of him.”

“I hope you can do something with him. The gossip is pretty rank about him. He's not only gambling. He's been involved in some shady deals. I couldn't get the details, but he's gone downhill, sir, I'm sorry to say.”

“Thank you. You've done a good deed. Stay with us overnight. I'll see that you have a good place to sleep, a good meal tonight, and a good breakfast.”

“Thank you, sir. That would be very fine, and I will occupy my time by praying that you'll have success with Brandon, where I could not.”

As soon as he had made provision for Carter, Quentin went to Stoneybrook. He found Stuart and Heather, and without preamble, told them his news

“Thank God he's alive!” Heather cried

“Yes, I've been fearing the worst,” Stuart said

They listened soberly to the rest of the story. Heather wept when she learned that it was widely assumed that Brandon was involved in dark deals. “I think you need to go see him, Stuart. Maybe you can change his mind.”

“I don't know whether I can or not, but I'm going to try.”

“And I'm going with you,” Heather said, wiping her eyes and lifting her chin

“That may not be best, dear.”

“He's my son. I'm going, so don't argue.”

“When you marry, Quentin, be sure you meet a woman with a strong will. You won't have to worry about what she's thinking.” He put his arm around Heather and squeezed her. “Very well. We'll go together.”

“Let me know as soon as you get some kind of word, will you, Stuart?”

“Of course I will. This could be good news. We'll pray it is.”

“Where's Rez gone?”

Lupa looked down at Brandon, who was slumped in a chair. “He's off on one of his horse-stealing trips.” She reached down and took a cup from him. “You're drunk, Brandon. You're drinking too much.” She felt a twinge of guilt, for she had been encouraging him to drink for some time

“What difference does it make, Lupa?”

“You don't appreciate what you have. I don't think you've ever noticed how you've been blessed.”

“Blessed by whom? By God? You don't believe in God, do you, Lupa?”

“Sometimes I do.”

“I would never know it.”

“Don't you believe in God?”

“I certainly do, and the dread of my life is the day I have to face him when he's my judge, and I'll have to confess what a rotten sinner I've been.”

He got up slowly, as if he were an old man, and started to leave the room. “I'm going out to get some air.”

“I'll go with you.”

He did not argue, but neither did he invite her

It was a windy night in March, and the stars were out. Neither of them spoke as they went down the street. Finally they came to what seemed to be a communal garden and they stopped

“I love gardens,” Brandon said. “My mother loves them too.”

Lupa said, “We never had a garden. We never stayed in one place long enough to plant.”

“Where did you live?”

“We lived in a wagon, a caravan you'd call it. It sounds romantic, but it's not. Everybody hates gypsies. I've been run out of many towns.” As she continued telling him her life, she saw that he was watching her with a peculiar expression. “Look at me,” she whispered. “I'm crying like a baby. I don't cry.”

“What is there to cry for?”

“I never had anything good.” She suddenly reached up and put her arms around him. “You are good. You must see that I care for you, Brandon.”

“Well, Lupa, I'm not good for you. I'm lost, wandering.”

“Sounds like a gypsy to me. We're both lost, so we should make the best of it.” She pressed herself against him and whispered, “We have each other, Brandon. We can have that much at least. Come on back to the room. I need you to love me.”

“That's not love, Lupa.”

“It's as close as we can get.”

She pulled at him, and Brandon reluctantly followed. As soon as they were in their room, she closed and locked the door. She came to him and said, “We'll have each other. That's better than nothing.”

And Brandon surrendered. “I'll probably regret this and so will you,” he whispered, then accepted her kiss

“No regrets,” she said pulling him down onto the bed. “What's to regret in love?”

Three days later, Brandon and Lupa walked along the cliffs. Brandon smiled at her and appeared happy for the first time since he had met her. In truth, she had comforted him, at least in a physical way

The famous white cliffs of Dover impressed them, and Brandon said, “This is a beautiful sight. As beautiful as anything in England. I think we should—”

Suddenly he heard his name being called. He whirled quickly, and his eyes widened. He saw his father and mother hurrying along the pathway along the top of the cliff, and could not, for a moment, think of what to say

“Who is that?” Lupa said, looking from him to the figures still twenty paces off

“My—my parents,” he whispered

Brandon had no chance to say anything else. His mother rushed ahead of his father. She came to him, and he had to catch her in his arms to keep her from falling. She was weeping. She pulled his head down and kissed his cheek

“Mother, what are you doing here?”

Stuart answered, “Brandon, we heard that you were here, and we came to see that you were all right.”

Brandon was filled with shame, for he knew that he had never been the son they deserved, less so now than ever

He glanced toward Lupa, standing behind him, and saw the antagonism in her face, then back to his parents. “When did you arrive?” It sounded inane, and he barely heard their reply