Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (81 page)

Simon Whitelaw stood where he was, staring across the hall to where his stepfather had so suddenly disappeared after seeing Valentine Whitelaw standing in the doorway.

Simon Whitelaw knew the truth. And he felt the same sense of horror that his father had when discovering Sir William aboard the
Estrella D'Alba
that night so long ago. They had both been betrayed. Simon's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his lips from trembling when he thought of this man, this traitor, who had been his father's friend. This friend had known of his father's death, had done nothing to stop it. Then he had come home to England and married his betrayed friend's widow. This man had married his mother, Simon thought, his dead father's wife, and come to live
in
his father's house.

Sir William Davies had betrayed his father, then taken for his own everything that his father had loved: his wife, his home, and even his son. While his father had been abandoned on a desolate island, left to die without ever seeing his beloved
family
again, this man had slept in his bed and taken his wife as his own. All of these years he had shamed them, Simon Whitelaw thought, feeling a deep, burning rage whipping through him.

Now he knew why Valentine had not told him the truth. Why Valentine had been so brooding and quiet since discovering the journal. He had known what his reaction would be as Basil's son, and as Basil's brother he had felt the same rage inside of him.

Simon Whitelaw turned away, drawing his sword as he made his way from the hall and the people standing around, talking in whispers, for the music had stopped with the unexpected entrance of the guard, when the guests had realized something was wrong and had stopped their dancing.

With a certainty he didn't quite understand, he knew where Sir William would be headed. Simon remembered Sir William's great joy and pride when the chapel had been built at Riverhurst. He had spent many an hour praying within the cool, dark walls, where the light filtering through the stained-glass window, pained with a figure of Edward the Confessor, had seemed heaven sent, the rich colors an inspiration to aspire to a higher order of existence.

Simon Whitelaw hurried along the corridor leading toward the chapel, vengeance the only thought in his mind. As he neared the arched portal that led to the chapel, he came to an abrupt halt.

The Turk stood barring his passage.

"He is inside, isn't he?" Simon demanded.

The Turk just stared at him, his dark
eyes strangely
opaque.

"Let me pass, Mustafa. It is my right to avenge my family's name."

"You do not pass by me, young Master Whitelaw."

"No."

Simon's hand tightened around his sword hilt. "I don't want to fight you, Mustafa. But I will enter."

The Turk continued to stand before the door, arms crossed before him.

Simon moved closer to the doors.

"Simon! Stop!" Valentine called out to him as he and the guards approached along the corridor.

Reaching Simon, he grabbed his sword arm and held it between them, staring down into Simon's hardened face.

"Mustafa?"

"Sir William inside. When I come down this corridor after you go in opposite way to search, I see him enter. I know," he said. "I know. So I wait," he said with a patient look of understanding on his face. "It is Allah's way, Captain," he explained with a glance at the religious carving cut into the stone above his turbaned head.

"Let e go, Valentine. 'Tis my right."

"No, I feel the same hatred, Simon. We're the same blood in our veins, the same blood Basil had, but that does not give us the right to take Sir William's life. He will face death soon enough, Simon."

"We have a warrant for his arrest. We are here with the queen's authority. It is our duty to arrest him for treason," the senior officer of the guard spoke, but, so far, had been unwilling to enter the chapel where the Turk stood guard.

Valentine Whitelaw stared down into Simon's thin face, and he knew the deep anguish the young man was feeling as he felt the betrayal of one he had come to trust.

"Simon, listen to me. You must remain strong. You must become the man of this family now. Your mother will need you, Simon. Do you know what this will do to her? She has been betrayed far more cruelly than you have. She will know a deepness of despair that you and I will never experience. She loved Basil with all of her heart. She grieved as only a wife and lover could when Basil died. But she started again, with a man she trusted and loved, a man who gave her another life, and two children she could be proud of. She has known happiness with Sir William. This will destroy her, to know of Sir William's treachery. She will believe that he has made a mockery of their love these many years.

"Simon, you will be her salvation. You must be her strength, her will to continue. And what of young Betsy and Wilfred? Are they to be damned for their father's sins? Oh, Simon, listen to me."

Simon stared up into Valentine's face, tears filling his eyes, and he dropped his sword, turning away to bury his face against the wall.

Valentine reached out, his hand heavy on Simon's shoulder for a moment. Then he turned to the Turk. "Let me enter, Mustafa."

The Turk stepped aside, opening the doors.

Valentine Whitelaw would always remember the dark coolness of the chapel when he entered. The chapel was illuminated only by the jewellike tones radiating through the stained glass.

He glanced around, feeling the peace Sir William must have sought within its walls. It would have been a place where he could have come to confess his sins and try to make peace with his own conscience.

It was the place in which Sir William Davies had chosen to die. He had taken his own life.

Quietly, the guards stepped into the shadowy chapel and lowered Sir William's body from where it hung from one of the supporting beams of the high arches.

Valentine Whitelaw turned away. It was over. He left the chapel, glancing curiously at Mustafa, who still stood just outside, never having entered. "You knew."

Mustafa nodded. "It was
written in
his face. When he saw you, he knew. Then, when I see him enter this place of worship, I knew he will end his life here, not to be dishonored further, or bring more dishonor on his family. It was the only way for a man to end his life."

Valentine walked over to where
Simon
stared dazedly at his feet. "Come, Simon," he said, placing his arm over Simon's shoulders. "We will face this together."

Simon nodded, looking up gratefully. "I will have to tell Mother, Valentine."

"I know, but we will get through this. At least we have the truth now, Simon. We will start anew and we will become stronger because of that. Basil, Magdalena, Geoffrey Christian, and the others who died because of what happened so many years ago, they will live on through us, Simon. We will never forget them, nor will they have died for nothing."

Lily Christian raced along the cliffs precariously close to the edge as she sent Merry galloping faster than the winds. Her hair was wild, floating out behind her and glinting with a dark, hidden fire. Her cheeks were flushed like the wild rose, while her pale green eyes glowed with a fiery warmth that was kindled from deep within the heart.

Crossing the wild heath, Lily pulled Merry up. Staring out to sea, she felt her heart miss a beat, for silhouetted against the horizon were the sails of a ship: the
Madrigal.

Valentine Whitelaw had returned to Ravindzara.

"Come on, Merry," Lily whispered in his ear, patting his sleek neck as she nudged him with her stain-slippered heels, "let's go home."

The big white horse galloped faster than before, his long tail and mane flying, his hooves digging deep into the earth.
Quickly
they passed along the stately lane leading to Ravindzara. When reaching the stables, Lily rubbed Merry's soft nose and treated him to a
handful
of oats sweetened with honey from the
bucket
of her green velvet gown.

Hurrying into the house through a side entrance, Lily avoided passing through the great hall, for she intended to look respectable when greeting Valentine after his absence of nearly a month.

Reaching her room, Lily quickly disrobed and sponged herself off with a cloth soaked in rose oil and lavender. A heady blend of jasmine and hyacinth she touched to her throat and breast, and behind her ears and against the throbbing softness of her wrist, the warmth of her body heightening the scent by the time she'd dressed in her gown and arranged her hair to satisfaction.

She was staring at her reflection in the looking glass, when there was a knock on the door, and Quinta stuck her head inside. "I thought this was where you would be. Valentine is back!" she said excitedly. "He is wondering where you are. I'm afraid you gave him quite a scare, racing along the cliffs on Merry. He is a bit angry, my dear," Quinta advised, coming into the room when Lily held out her hand.

"He saw me, then?"

"He stood before the window, never moving, while you and that horse of yours raced along the shore," Quinta said, eyeing Lily curiously. "Good Lord, child, whatever have you done to yourself?"

"Don't you approve?" Lily asked worriedly, smoothing down her skirt with a nervous gesture. She had so hoped to please Valentine with her appearance.

"Well, ah, yes, there is nothing wrong at all. You look, ah, quite respectable, my dear," Quinta told her.

"Good, that is what I hoped," Lily confided.

"You are so in love with hi aren't you, my dearest child?" Quinta said, her expression softened. "I believe you always have been, haven't you?"

Lily bit her lip, watching Quinta uncertainly, but Quinta reached out and pressed a kiss against her rosy cheek.

"You do not mind."

"Mind? I could not be happier. I cannot think of anything that would give me greater pleasure than to welcome you into this family, not that you are not already a part of it, but this way we will never lose you to another. You will become a Whitelaw, and we hold what is ours," Quinta said, echoing Valentine's words spoken so lovingly once before.

Lily stared down at her hands,
unconsciously
twisting them as she anticipated her meeting with him after so long an absence and after so
much
had happened. They had received a letter from him, telling them all that had occurred at Riverhurst. How could she seek happiness now, knowing the sadness that Simon and Lady Elspeth were sharing?

"Don't, my child," Quinta advised, taking Lily's sad face in her hand as she looked into her shadowed eyes. "We all must live our own lives. One day, Simon and Elspeth will come to terms with what has happened. Their
wounds
will heal. I understand from Valentine that Sir William left several letters. One for Elspeth, and one for his children, and one for Simon. I do not know if Sir William's words
will
be able to explain what happened. Perhaps one day they will understand him better. He was a very tormented man, Lily. As a young man he believed very deeply in the cause of his Church, and he remained, until the end, a very religious man, but he became
involved
in something that he had no control over, that drew him deeper into a web that he could not escape from until it was far too late.

"He could do nothing, Lily. If he tried to follow his conscience, he would have betrayed his Church, and his beliefs, and the others involved. And yet, because he chose not to, he betrayed those he loved the most, and in the end he lost everything. He is a man to be pitied. I do not excuse him, Lily," Quinta said, her eyes glinting with the anger she'd felt when hearing of his treachery, "but I cannot hate the man."

Lily touched Quinta's hand understandingly, then said softly, "And Sir Raymond Valchamps?"

Quinta's mouth tightened. "That is one man I feel nothing for. He will go on trial this month. It will not go well for him, my dear. He will meet the fate of a traitor, and it will not be a peaceful death," Quinta told her, then drew a deep breath. "Now, enough of this. You had better go to the great chamber immediately. I do not wish Valentine to
come
and break this door down trying to find you. He is angry enough, my dear," she warned.

"You think he would, then?"

"
Without
a doubt. He has been away from you for far too long, and I am not to old yet to understand young lovers."

At Lily's start of surprise, Quinta laughed. "Oh, my child, don't ever doubt that he loves you. I have never seen such a determined glint in a man's eye, unless 'twas when my brother courted his mother. The man was crazed from first laying eyes on her. She was quite a beauty, and a bit wild. Like you, my dear. Besides, you wear Valentine's ring of Spanish gold," she commented when Lily reached up to touch the rough band of gold. "I had wondered that he wears a pearl now. You wear its mate in your other ear. 'Twas not only his most prized possession, but 'twas his good luck charm. I think you must be that now."