When the Splendor Falls (60 page)

Reverend Culpepper opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it as he met Captain Dagger’s eyes.

“Also, I would advise the utmost discretion concerning the events of this evening. Indeed, were I you, I would forget I’d ever come to Travers Hill at midnight for the nefarious purpose of presiding over the marriage of Captain Dagger, well…I just don’t know, but I’m certain there would be quite an outcry should the good citizens of the county learn that the Reverend Culpepper had been involved. They would not look kindly upon the man who had given Leigh Travers into the hands of Captain Dagger.”

Although bloated with pride, the reverend was no fool.

“Excellent,” Adam said, sounding for all the world the cordial host. “I am so pleased you’ve decided to cooperate,” he said as the reverend began to hurriedly pull on his gown, which Adam had very kindly held up for him. “Yes, you look quite splendid. Now the surplice. Yes, yes, very nice indeed,” Adam murmured approvingly as he straightened the white linen garment with its long, full sleeves. “Here is your Bible. Are we ready, then? You may proceed, Reverend Culpepper, in uniting Leigh Travers and Neil Braedon in holy matrimony.”

The vows had been made, the solemn promises to love and to honor until death do them part dutifully recited. A ring, hastily taken from Althea’s own hand, the ring Nathan had lovingly slipped on her finger, had been slipped on the third finger of Leigh’s left hand, Neil’s strong, tanned hand closing around her slender, pale one for the briefest of instants, then her hand had been released. The church register had been duly signed and witnessed, the recording of their names and the date of their marriage appearing on the same page as Blythe’s and Adam’s four years ago.

Although he’d not been at his best, the Reverend Culpepper had always prided himself on having mastered the ceremonial part of his calling, and weddings and burials were among the finest of the services he performed, next to his Sunday sermons, of course. And except for the hound that had constantly been underfoot, and sniffing him at the most inopportune time, and in the most private of places, he could take pride in his performance this night.

And he had to admit he’d seldom tasted better cake, and the ratafia had been quite exceptional. He’d been quite surprised when the majordomo and the mulattress, having left the room, had reentered with refreshments. The reverend, after a second glass, had begun to reassess his original impression of this marriage, for it was beginning to appear quite civilized and he had even joined in a toast to the couple’s continued good health and future happiness together.

“Now, Reverend Culpepper, I think I should, and with all due haste, return you to your bed,” Adam suggested, offering the reverend his coat when he would have lingered in conversation with Althea, whose blond head was already beginning to droop from fatigue.

“We wouldn’t wish to have your activities questioned, should someone happen to see you and wonder what the Reverend Culpepper was doing riding around the countryside in the black of night.”

“No…ah, quite right, although I would certainly leave them in little doubt that it was none of their business. I am a servant of God, and as such, in order to serve my flock, I must find myself out in the cold at all hours of the day and night, and called upon to perform all manner of service unquestioningly, and without complaint or care to my own safety,” the reverend told them with such affronted dignity that anyone might dare to question his actions that Adam had no fears that anything would be said of this evening, and the service Reverend Culpepper had performed. And should anyone have noticed the most recent marriage recorded in the church register, then all they would note as odd was that yet another Braedon had wed a Travers.

Neil glanced over at his wife. Her slender back was turned to him almost disdainfully, as if she distanced herself from him, and the marriage that had just taken place between them. She’d been as warm and loving as one of the icicles hanging from the eaves of the house. And her hand had felt even colder when he’d taken it in his and placed the borrowed ring upon her finger, claiming her as his wife. Her lips, when he’d kissed her, sealing the ceremony, had been as soft and yielding as carved marble.

“I’ll accompany you, Adam,” Neil said, picking up his coat, but Adam shook his head, turning at the door as he tried to escort the reverend from the room, the reverend having stopped to empty his third glass of ratafia.

Leigh glanced over at them. Standing before the fire, trying to warm herself, she watched Neil with a cool-eyed stare. He could hardly wait to leave, she thought, remembering the brusqueness of his greeting when he’d arrived at Travers Hill. Beyond that, and his curt demand to know if she agreed to Adam’s plan, he’d hardly spoken two words to her, spending most of his time in conversation with Althea, who’d seemed pleased by his gentlemanly attentions.

“No, I wouldn’t want to give away our game too soon. Can’t take the risk of being seen together, or your being put in unnecessary danger, Neil,” Adam joked. “At least no more than usual. Can’t tempt fate too much. I should be back in an hour and a half, or two, or three. Going to stay off the roads. Don’t want to attract attention. I also remember seeing a wagon at Meadowbrook when I was there a couple of days ago. I’m going to see if I can borrow it. The Draytons are good friends. There shouldn’t be any trouble. We’ll talk further about the details for the journey when I return. When do your men expect you back?” he asked.

“When they see me.”

“Good,” Adam said, pushing the reluctant reverend through the door ahead of him.

Neil stood for a moment, hearing Adam’s cough from the foyer, followed by the door slamming shut, then there was silence.

Turning around, he caught Leigh’s glance on him. For a long moment, their eyes held, but neither knew what the other was thinking, and with an abruptness that bordered on rudeness, Leigh excused herself, professing a need to change from her wedding gown before preparing a bottle for the baby.

“Braedon?”

Neil looked over at Guy Travers, where he sat near the fire, his hounds sitting at his feet.

“Braedon? You still here?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“Want to have a word with you,” he said shortly.

Neil frowned, thinking Guy Travers still bore a grudge against him despite what Leigh had claimed.

“What is it?” Neil asked, coming to stand closer.

But Guy remained silent, his expression almost diffident. “I hoped you would accept my deep apologies for what happened between us four years ago.”

Neil was startled, for he hadn’t expected an apology from the man. “There’s no need,” he began.

Guy laughed harshly. “Please, allow me to offer, and you would be within your rights not to accept it. My behavior that night, the whole week of your visit, in fact, was unforgivable. I regret it deeply. I could try to excuse myself as having been young, and arrogant, but I will not, because I suspect that I would still be that way today had certain events not taken place to alter drastically the way I perceive the world. I have seen too many fine young men die, some by my own hand, others standing beside me, to have anything but disgust for my actions that night when I would have taken your life for no other reason than that I was jealous of you, that I was arrogant and selfish, too accustomed to having everything I wanted in life, without ever realizing the value of what I took, what I accepted as my due. I’ve lost my mother and my father, my two brothers, and a little sister, and countless friends. I will never again accept the taking of a life as anything but tragic and senseless. It is no gentleman’s sport, entered into to save honor, to salve wounded pride, to boast about having taken another’s life as if tallying the flushed pheasant bagged in a shoot. Death is agony, and it is final, and I see it in my mind every hour of the day.”

Neil stared at Guy and saw a stranger. He was a changed man, a man who had found honor on the battlefield, not because he sought glory in another’s death, but because he regretted the taking of that life.

“I offer you my hand,” Guy said, gazing up at Neil blindly.

Neil took the hand being offered, holding it firmly in his grasp before he released it.

“I was surprised when Jolie offered me that cake. Haven’t had any in ages. Where on earth did she find it? Or do I really want to know that?” Guy said, smiling slightly, and feeling a weight had been lifted from him.

Althea laughed softly. “It was an inspired, if conniving, act.” Althea surprised the two men by her answer. “Jolie knows the Reverend Culpepper only too well, and remembers his healthy appetite. She thought refreshments might put him in a better frame of mind, and I do believe he left here quite pleased with himself. Foolish man,” Althea murmured with uncharacteristic harshness.

“And the ratafia? Where did she unearth that?”

“Exactly. She has a small cache buried in a corner of the cellars. Whenever she’s had the herbs, and the brandy, she’s brewed up a batch. This was made from the brandy Adam brought last spring, and Leigh said this was sitting on the kitchen windowsill all summer. It is quite heady, and I believe it is becoming more and more potent. I feel quite light-headed, and I only sipped mine. We shouldn’t have had so many toasts.”

“We don’t get to celebrate often, Althea,” Guy said, still enjoying the warming glow in his blood.

“You and Leigh both had too much. And I do hope the reverend will be able to stay on his horse, he did imbibe rather freely,” she said, sighing as she rested her head against the back of the chair.

“Stephen should be back in a few minutes, Althea,” Guy said, hearing the tired sigh. “It has been a long day. You should be in bed,” he advised, pulling his tobacco pouch from his coat pocket and with little fumbling managing to fill the bowl with tobacco. He was about to light it, when he remembered Althea and stopped.

“Please, go ahead, Guy. It won’t bother me,” she told him, but he continued to sit with his unlit pipe, patiently rubbing one of his hound’s heads.

“No, no hurry. Where is Stephen, anyway?” he asked.

“He’s with Jolie in the kitchens. She had him fetching some wicker baskets. They’re already beginning to pack up the items she told him she would need.”

“But it’s probably dark in the kitchens, except for a little bit of firelight,” Guy said.

“You know Jolie can see in the dark,” Althea reminded him.

“May I help you to your room, Althea?” Neil asked, not waiting for her acquiescence as he came to her side.

“Yes, thank you, if you wouldn’t mind. I’ll just lean on your arm, please.” Althea said, getting slowly to her feet, but before she could take a step, Neil had easily picked her up in his arms.

“Thank you. Good night, Guy,” Althea called back. “You may light your pipe now.”

“’Night, dear, sleep well,” Guy called to her.

“My candle,” Althea said, stopping Neil by the door as she reached down and selected a taper, lighting it from the oil lamp, then carefully shielding it as they moved into the drafty foyer.

“Which room is yours, Althea?” Neil asked when he reached the top of the stairs, carrying Althea with little effort.

“First door on the right, yes, this one,” she said, unable to hide her yawn.

Neil opened the door and entered, the candlelight casting flickering shadows over the room. Sleeping peacefully in a trundle bed near the big canopied bed were two children tucked snugly beneath a down comforter. Neil stopped for a moment and stared down at them. Noelle, her dark brown hair spread out around her angelic face, her lips curved upward with a smile, was dreaming sweet dreams. Her brother, Steward, his dark curls tumbled into disorder, a thumb stuck in his mouth, had obviously dreamed of wilder things, because the comforter on his side of the bed was tangled, with a short, chubby leg dangling above the floor, where his pillow had landed during the fight.

Neil smiled. “He’s a fine-looking lad. Nathan would be proud of him,” he told the boy’s mother as he set her down by the bed.

“I hope someday he’ll hear his father tell him that. Thank you, Neil,” Althea said huskily.

“Good night, Althea. I wish you a safe journey.”

“We won’t see you again?” she asked, looking up from her loving glance at her sleeping children.

“No, I’ll be leaving with Adam later. Then we go our separate ways. I trust we’ll meet again at Royal Rivers,” he said, his tone casual, as if he’d every reason to believe they would.

“I hope so too, with all my heart,” Althea said, staring at him curiously. “And thank you for what you’re doing for us.”

Neil eyed her thoughtfully. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m getting just as much in return.”

Althea shook her head in disagreement. “I prefer to thank you anyway, and I will continue to think kindly of you.”

“As you wish. Where is Leigh?” he asked abruptly, and seeing Althea’s startled glance, he smiled. “I want her to have these letters of introduction I’ve written to friends of mine in New York, and I’ve made a list of names of people who could help should you have any difficulties once you’ve started your journey. I’ve also prepared detailed instructions for her to follow. And you needn’t worry about the cost. I’ll make certain that you will be well provided for. You will have ample funds to see you comfortably during your journey. I’ll wire my bank, and the money will be deposited in a New York bank.”

“I don’t believe I will worry, now that you and Leigh are married,” she said, her glance resting for a moment on the ring of gold Leigh had returned to her shortly after the ceremony.

“Which room is Leigh’s?” he asked again, turning toward the door.

“The last door; it’s the corner bedchamber on this side,” she said, sounding almost reluctant to furnish the information. “I-I could…ummm, should you…I mean, is she ex—”

“You needn’t be concerned, Althea,” Neil said, opening the door and looking back at her. “After all, she is my wife.”

With that, he closed the door behind him and walked down the dark hall, treading lightly on the pine flooring. He stopped before the last door on the right, hesitating, momentarily unsure. He raised his hand to knock, but the door hadn’t been completely shut and swung open.