Absolute Surrender (51 page)

Amelia knelt in her spare room amidst the boxes of memories, attempting to imagine all of it gone. She supposed part of why she held on to so much was because she never truly believed she would have a future to look forward to. Some part of her had always believed Charles would find her lacking, or Hugh would move on with his life without her, and she would be left with nothing but her memories. She liked to have something tangible. With her mind always questioned, she loved that she had things she could touch that reminded her where she
’
d been.

However, now that her future was a possibility, she was having difficulty ridding herself of the pieces of her past.

It should have been so simple.

But what of Hugh?

What if he never returned? What if she never saw him again? What if she tossed away so many years of her memories with him, and then had nothing of him to remember—past or future?

What if what if what if?

She felt stuck in the moment. Unable to move forward, not wanting to look back.

Amelia
…

She heard Hugh
’
s voice in her head and twitched, the sound merely a precursor to an episode. The corners of her vision wavered, and she knew this would be a difficult night. She suddenly wished Louisa hadn
’
t left her.

Amelia?

Her hands tightened on her skirts at her knees as she attempted to fend off the coming darkness. She wished her mind would stop calling her name. She should go to her room, wrap up in her quilt, and try to calm herself, try to sleep.

“Hugh,” she said to no one.

He left me.

…

That
’
s not what I
’
m going to do.

Amelia closed her eyes and let the swirl pull her mind from the corners and into the dance. She was resigned to let it come, to allow it to sweep her away, off to the other place.

“Amelia.”

She glanced to the doorway, where her mother looked down on her as she sat in the middle of the floor.

“Amelia, what are you doing down there? Where
’
s Louisa? Supper will be soon. You should be getting ready.”

“Mother, not tonight. I fear…I
’
m much too much exhausted,” Amelia managed. She knew this was not going to end well.

“Amelia, you
’
ve returned to London. Castleberry has spoken with your father. There
’
s nothing more to fear. You should be celebrating.”

As if now that she was spoken for, her illness would simply disappear.

Amelia stood too quickly, and her hand shot out to the doorway to steady herself. “Mother, please.” She couldn
’
t be bothered at the moment. She didn
’
t want to be concerned with the future at the moment, this moment, the moment she was in.

She could only hope to last long enough to make it to her room.

“Amelia Marie, you must come down to supper. Your father—”

“Mother…” She looked up, knew she was pleading with her eyes, knew she wasn
’
t going to last long. The floor lurched, and Amelia held on to the doorway with both hands. “Mama—” Amelia watched as her mother
’
s gaze shifted, and she paled.

A large shadow moved slowly across her, as though Helios
’s
chariot was chased from the room, bringing night, and Amelia collapsed to the floor.

Hugh knocked at the Pembroke town house, hoping to be allowed entry. When the door opened, the butler
’
s eyes widened, then shifted away and back again.

“Is she home?” Hugh asked.

Smythe paused, the hand at his side fidgeting in an unseemly manner. Hugh looked past him but saw no one else in the entry.

“Amelia. Is she home?” he asked again.

“Sir, I
’
m to turn you away, should you come,” Smythe said quietly, but he didn
’
t shut the door.

“Smythe, is Amelia well?” Hugh asked.

Smythe merely stared at him, his eyes pleading. Hugh looked past him again and concentrated on the sounds of the house. The scream, when it came, was much louder than it should have been, considering how far her room was from the entry.

“
Send for Castleberry
. Now, Smythe. Now!” Hugh yelled as he pushed past the butler and took the stairs three at a time, running for her rooms.

Hugh heard the gruff voice as he rounded the corner toward her suite. “That is it! This is the last time! I
’
ll not be made a mockery of. She
’
ll be taken to Bedlam. I
’
ll not be ruined by this. You had your chance, woman. You failed.” The strong, deep voice rang through the hallways toward him, and Hugh knew.

They had just run out of time.

The water swept over Amelia in a rush, cleansing her soul along with her body. She allowed the hands, all of the hands, to roam where they might—skimming, soothing, pushing, pulling. Her head snapped to the side, and she tried to push the hands away, the pulling shifting her off-balance.

Amelia.

Amelia flung her hands out at the clothesline as the sun sank—much too fast, entirely too fast, much faster than fast, as though it had been chased from the sky—beyond the cliffs.

One breath in, one breath out.

She looked down at the hands, so many hands, more than four to be sure—so many she simply couldn
’
t count them. So many. She heard the fabric of her dress give, the popping of the stitches at the side, and she fisted it, held it together, as she attempted to scream.

Amelia.

She let go and turned, stumbled, thought she would fall, and she put her hands out before her to catch herself. When she looked down, she was alone. No hands, no bodies—save her own. She was alone, so very alone. The world darkened around her—funny, that, since she
’
d watched the sun set only moments ago, not so very long ago, but long enough ago that the world should have already been dark.

She closed her eyes and scrubbed her hands across her face.

Amelia.

What is this devilry
?

Amelia dropped her hands—she stood in the dark, alone. She was surrounded by the boxes. Boxes upon boxes upon boxes. Boxes of memories reaching as high as she could see, in all colors…and they were beautiful, so very beautiful in their satins and brocades, tied with bright ribbons and bows. The one she wanted—the green brocade with the linens and the candle wax—it was all the way up at the top, and she began to climb. The stacks were impossibly high, and it took forever. She reached and reached, but the box grew farther and farther away. The towers got to be so tall that they started to tilt from the weight of her—closing in. She realized—too late—that they were coming down. Amelia fell back to the floor, crouched when she landed, then covered her head as she attempted a scream that never came, and the floor beneath her fell away as she dropped through.

Amelia?

She concentrated on the voice in the darkness. The voice she knew as well as she knew her own. Hugh. She felt her descent slow as the floor came to her chest, and she lay upon it, the solid reality embracing her. Hugh was here in this darkness with her, and she took a deep breath that truly felt like the first breath of civilization, the sky warming around her, the lids of her eyes turning orange and red and pink as she stared and tried to see him.

“Amelia mine?”

She opened her eyes to find Hugh lying on the floor before her, his hand holding hers between them. Why was he on the floor? That was terribly inappropriate of him. He shouldn
’
t be on the floor…why…wait, what was she doing on the floor? She closed her eyes slowly, concentrating on the feel of his fingers on hers.

“One breath in, one breath out. That
’
s all you need concern yourself with at the moment, Amelia. One breath in, one breath out. Amelia, I
’
m here. I
’
ll not leave you,” Hugh whispered.

She shook her head. But he
had
left her.

He left me.

That
’
s not what I
’
m going to do.

Amelia stole another deep breath. “I need Charles, because, you did—you did leave me. You
’
re not here. You cannot be here. I
’
ve finally lost my mind, haven
’
t I? This is what it looks like. It could be worse, I suppose. I suppose I won
’
t be alone now. Wherever I am, you
’
ll be with me. I do wish Charles would be here with us as well. Wherever here is. I would feel ever so much better if Charles were here as well.”

A great sob rent her as she realized she
’
d spoken aloud, and she suddenly had the fear that giving voice to the words would send his spirit away. “Please, please don
’t leave.
”

“Amelia.” Hugh
’
s voice was different. It seemed damaged, older, and she opened her eyes on him, gazed into those eyes that were so familiar to her. “Never. Again.”