When the Splendor Falls (68 page)

Because the war was over.

Twenty-one

Thy way is long to the sun and the south;

But I, fulfilled of my heart’s desire…

Feed the heart of the night with fire.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

Leigh hurried along the narrow corridor that opened onto the courtyard, her steps quickening as she heard the last echoing notes of the chapel bell ringing across the
rancho
grounds. She’d promised to meet Gil in the stables by now. He’d warned her they would have to start early if they were to reach the high country and return to Royal Rivers by sundown. Through one of the low windows she glanced out on the sunny courtyard, where a profusion of colorful blooms in carefully tended beds, terra-cotta pots, and stone planters, exotic flowering vines creeping along the veranda roof, and citrus trees created a lush, almost tropical garden within the confines of the
rancho
. It was a beautiful garden, where solitude could be found on a bench hidden in a rose bower, or the family could gather on a warm afternoon in the cool shade of a wisteria-covered, trellised arbor. On those afternoons, when the air was heavy with the fragrance of orange blossoms—and memories were carried on the gentle breeze whispering through the leaves—Leigh remembered the Carolina yellow jessamine growing wild along the white, split-railed fence bordering the green meadows of Travers Hill. And she couldn’t keep her thoughts from lingering there as she wondered if the daylilies had blossomed across the blue-green pasturelands, and if the old damask rose in her mother’s garden had survived to bloom again. But the memories always faded into sadness, because there would be no one at Travers Hill to breathe of the sweet, clove-scented air wafting in through the opened windows.

Leigh’s step slowed as she passed the French doors that led to the courtyard. They were standing open, and her gaze searched the garden for the familiar sight of a slight figure bent over a freshly potted plant, or disappearing into a tangle of shrubbery, or almost hidden behind an armful of flowers. The garden was where one could usually find Lys Helene tending to her beloved plants and flowers. The garden was Lys Helene’s domain. Leigh was surprised she couldn’t find her. Lys Helene preferred to work in the cool morning hours, and her gloves, pruning shears, and the big woven basket—always at hand to hold the bounty from her garden—were sitting on one of the benches in the arbor.

Suddenly the cloying scent of an exotic bloom that had opened its petals at first light floated to Leigh across the garden. It was overpowering even this early in the morning, and it reminded her of Diosa—and Leigh suspected Diosa was well aware of that. Leigh stared at the odd-shaped tree with its branches raised to the heavens as if in prayer to the ancient gods. And perhaps there was some truth to that imagery. The tree was from Mexico, and according to Diosa, who’d given it as a gift to Serena, it had been sacred to the Aztecs. They had called the tree
yoloxochitl
. Diosa, plucking a fragrant blossom and placing it caressingly against the warmth of her breasts, brazenly revealed by the low-cut bodice of her gown, called it the heartflower.

Leigh slapped her leather riding gloves against her thigh in vexation as she remembered Diosa’s dark eyes becoming slumberous with remembered pleasure as she spoke of the passion the flower could induce. One delicate petal, placed beneath a pillow while lovers were lost in an embrace, could cast a spell they would never be free of—the lovers would be bound forever by that night. Touching the flower, Diosa had smiled pityingly at her, as if Diosa and her lover had shared a night such as that—and would again.

Leigh wrinkled her nose with distaste. Stepping outside the door, she broke a small sprig of orange blossom from a low-hanging bough, the light fragrance banishing the unpleasant thoughts of Diosa from her mind. Unable to resist, as if drawn by its magic, Leigh touched the small leather bag hanging from the rawhide strap around her neck—Jolie’s superstitious exhortations ringing now in her ears as she thought of the talismans and wondered if they would protect her. But that wasn’t why she was comforted by its feel against her breast—it reminded her of Neil. And sometimes when she wore it, she found herself hoping Jolie was right, and its magic was powerful enough to protect Neil—wherever he was.

She straightened the neckerchief of India cotton she’d tied around her throat, the wide, folded square of cloth easily hiding the pouch beneath. Putting on her hat and tipping it at a low angle over her forehead, Leigh wondered if the good luck charms the little leather pouch possessed were strong enough to protect her from witchcraft.

Leigh had almost reached the end of the corridor, and was pulling on her gloves, when she stopped abruptly. She’d just passed Guy’s room when a sound startled her.

“Guy?” Leigh called to her brother from outside his closed door. “May I come in, please?” she asked worriedly, knocking sharply.

“Yes, come in,” his voice came faintly to her.

“Are you ill? I was passing by your door and I heard you cry out,” Leigh explained as she entered his room. “Have you had an accident? I thought I heard something crash to the floor and break.”

“I’m all right, Leigh. Don’t worry. It was just my usual clumsiness,” Guy said with ill-contained impatience.

“You’ve had another attack, haven’t you? It was that sharp pain behind your eyes again?” Leigh asked in growing concern as she walked over to where he lay in bed, the covers tumbled into disorder, as if he’d spent a restless night.

As she stepped closer to straighten the coverlet, she heard a crunching noise beneath her boot and glanced down to see shards of broken china scattered across the floor.

“Leave it, Leigh. Don’t cut yourself,” he warned brusquely.

“Guy? What have you done? Your hand is bleeding.”

“Yes,
dear
, I cut myself,” he commented in far too patient a voice. “Careless me. Have I dripped blood all over the coverlet? Ruined it for good this time? Spilled soup on it yesterday, and eggs the morning before. Why should today be any different? I’m just another child the maids have to clean up after,” he added in self-disgust, his hand shaking as he tried to stanch the flow of blood.

Unconsciously, Leigh sighed, for Guy had been doing so well since they’d arrived at Royal Rivers. He had seemed almost his old self. But even had he not lost his sight, he would never be the same Guy Patrick Travers. And she was glad, because she liked the thoughtful, conscientious man he’d become much better than the indolent young gentleman who’d cared more for his own needs than those of others. It wasn’t that Guy had ever been truly selfish, just thoughtless and accustomed to having everything he wanted because he was handsome and amiable, and possessed the Travers name. She’d first seen the change in him when in Virginia, when he’d returned to Travers Hill from the war. And even had he not been sightless, Leigh suspected he would still have sat for hours staring blindly, a disbelieving expression on his face as he searched the darkness for an answer. But his face had contorted in anguish when he found no comfort in the reason for what had happened to him, to his family and friends, to the life they had known at Travers Hill. Gradually, though, as his wounds had healed, she’d sensed that Guy had in some way found a peace within, and he began to accept his blindness, making a valiant effort to live a normal life again.

He had seemed especially content since reaching Royal Rivers, and Leigh suspected Lys Helene had something to do with that, for she and Guy were always together, laughing, talking, walking in the courtyard or across the grounds of the
rancho
, her small hand, with a gentle firmness that might have surprised some, guiding his steps. But all of that had changed since he’d had the accident. He’d stumbled over a stool carelessly left in the center of his room and fallen and struck his head.

“I’m sorry, Leigh. Forgive me? I’m being an ass, aren’t I?”

“No, just a bit of a grumpy bear of late. But you suffered a serious blow to your head, and we all understand you haven’t been well. You’re being too hard on yourself. No one else blames you, or expects you to be norm—” Leigh began, letting her words trail off as she touched his hand almost apologetically.

“To be normal?” he concluded for her, less sensitive to the truth than she. “Just an invalid to be cared for day and night?” he asked, grasping her hand tightly. “I won’t have it, Leigh, I won’t live this way, not any more, not now that I…to think that now I might—oh, what the hell, it’s just another foolish dream,” he swore, a note of exasperation in his voice, but Leigh caught another note.

“What is it? Is there something you’re not telling me, Guy? Are you in pain anywhere else? If you’ve suffered some injury other than the blow to your head, then I should tell Nathaniel. He’ll find a doctor,” she told him, starting to pull away.

But Guy’s grasp on her hand tightened more painfully as he held her by the bed. “I didn’t want to say anything yet because I’m not certain. But, Leigh, for just an instant, I thought I could see again!”

Leigh tried to speak, but couldn’t seem to find the proper words to say, or even if she had, should they even be words of encouragement? She didn’t want him to hope for a miracle that would never happen.

Guy laughed harshly. “Oh, I know. I don’t need to see your face to know what you’re thinking. It is in my mind, isn’t it? Wishful thinking? Maybe. I don’t know. I feel so confused. But Leigh, I shouldn’t still be suffering such damnable headaches. I know our mother suffered from her famous migraines, but this is quite different. My headaches do not come at my beck and call as I once suspected our mother’s did. I never had a headache in my life until that concussion and wound to my head. I still have the occasional one, but not like I did at first. I swear, when I was first wounded I heard bells ringing in my ears for months. I thought I would go mad. I’m hearing that ringing again, Leigh,” he confided.

Leigh didn’t have the heart to tell him that the chapel bell had been ringing a few minutes earlier.

“And I’m not mad. But why am I still dizzy? I’ve no balance at all, and I can hardly sit up in bed without falling flat.”

“Don’t you remember how hard you hit your head on the corner of the chest? The chest was slammed against the wall, making a hole in it and knocking down one of the wall sconces. We actually found a small sliver of metal protruding from your scalp. We thought you were dead, Guy, you were so still and ashen. And there was so much blood. It’s unfortunate you reinjured the old wound. That sliver of metal must have sliced right along the scar, making a very deep cut. Although, Nathaniel is still puzzled, since there was so much blood on the corner of the chest, and he can’t see where the metal chipped off the sconce.”

“I thought you told me all of my hair had grown back over that scar,” Guy accused her good-naturedly as he ran his fingers through the chestnut hair that grew thickly over the tender scar slashing above his forehead. “Makes for good padding.”

“Chestnut-top,” Leigh said, echoing Stuart James’s words of endearment spoken to her years ago. “That’s probably why you weren’t killed. You can’t even get a comb through it without tangling it into knots. Maybe I should have one of the sheep shearers come in and cut it for you, and we’ll weave the strands into a cap you can wear to protect that head of yours.”

“Don’t need it. The Travers family is a hardheaded lot.”

“Well your head isn’t that hard. It was rather difficult not to see the bump pushing up from your bloodied scalp, and right on the scar. It was awful. And that was not very amusing.”

“Stephen said it was bigger than a sweet, sun-ripened plum, and just as purple.”

“If you felt as bad as it looked, I’m not surprised you had a headache. And it is not unusual to have dizziness after such a blow. Or,” she added slowly, “to think you were seeing bright lights inside your head.”

“The last stars I saw were in the cross on the battle flag waving in front of me as I went down,” he said wryly. “Listen, after I fell last week, I do admit I was delirious, and I did mumble about being able to see again. That, I know, was a dream. I never saw light then. But just a few minutes ago, when I awoke, and I opened my eyes, I felt the worst pain strike me between the eyes. The pain has never been so severe before. I felt nausea, that’s why I was reaching for the bowl and knocked it off the table. Then the pain became more intense, and that incredible light seemed to brighten with each throbbing jab behind my temples. It was blinding, and it burned right through my head. Thought for a moment we were having a storm and I’d been struck by lightning, and in my own bed,” he said, trying to jest about what he was afraid to admit might just be false hope, his hand reaching to touch the black patch over his left eye. “But, Leigh, when the light faded, so did some of the pain. And now, I’m seeing light and dark. I can distinguish between the two. There’s a grayness, like a drifting fog obscuring my vision, but I’m no longer in complete darkness,” he finally found the courage to tell her, his voice hoarse.

“Guy!” Leigh whispered excitedly, the pain of his grasp no longer hurting her. “Guy, remember what the doctors told you. They said you might regain your sight in the one eye. They really didn’t know. But they did not believe there was any physical damage to the eye. They said it might take time. It could be happening. Oh, Guy, what if it is true, and you are regaining your sight,” Leigh said, a low laugh of exultation escaping her as she began to believe that Guy’s vision might be returning.

“Maybe that knock on the head put things back in place. Father always said he could hear my brain rattle at times,” Guy joked.

“Oh, just wait until I tell Althea and everyone. They’re going to be so excited. This is wonder—”

“No!”

“Of course, I’m sorry, Guy,” Leigh said quickly. “You want to share the good news with them yourself.”

“No, Leigh, I don’t want anyone, except you, to know.”

Leigh frowned. “But why? I don’t understand, Guy. Everyone will be so happy.”