Blood Marriage (50 page)

Tears of mixed joy and sorrow swam in Elizabeth's eyes, blurring Nicholas's handsome face. She blinked them away and looked out over the clearing crowded with crypts and stone markers. For so long she'd accepted pain and loss and death as her fate. Now life -- a long healthy life -- stretched before her, promising love and happiness, endless opportunity and adventure. A bittersweet peace settled over her heart. She bent to touch the polished granite headstone before her, passing her fingers over the blank surface that would soon bear her mother's name.

"I won't waste it, Mama," she whispered. "I'll love my husband and my children, when they come, as you did yours, with everything that is in me."

Her mother would not lie beside her father and brothers in the London graveyard where they'd been buried. But did it matter where her body lay? Her soul was at peace in the company of those she loved. Elizabeth brushed a tear from her cheek and straightened her back. 

"It's over," she said.

"I wish it were." Bergen had been so quiet Elizabeth had forgotten he was there. 

She touched his arm, lightly, in sympathy. "Lucretia and Amelia are gone, Sebastian. Both their souls and their bodies free. The demons have been sent where demons belong. What else is there to be done?"

From across the circle of headstones Fielding answered. "As far as we know, all of Lucy's London victims were women. These women." Fielding thrust his chin down at the newly turned soil. "Except one."

"The hackney driver," Elizabeth breathed. Her stomach did a little flip of alarm.

"Yes, the jarvie," Bergen said. 

The doctor must have read the look on Elizabeth's face correctly because he took one of her black-gloved hands in both of his. "Detective Fielding, Lennie, and I are off to do a little hunting." He patted her hand and then winked. "Nick is not invited."

"Thank you, Sebastian." She squeezed his hand once before releasing it. 

A movement at the edge of the forest where the road from Maidenstone emerged into the cemetery caught Elizabeth's eye. Father Vlad had stopped Princess a few yards short of the trees, yielding the road to Margaret and Katie as they came out of the forest, arms linked. 

Katie's head was down. One hand clutched her maid's apron and her shoulders shook as if she were weeping. In contrast Margaret's head was high, her face determined. Dressed for traveling, she clutched an overstuffed carpetbag in one fist. The two women stopped beside the trap and exchanged a few words with the priest. Vlad grinned and looked back to the landau where the duke and Lennie were loading the chair and shovels. Lennie thrust a shovel abruptly into the duke's hand and strode toward the women, the expression on his rough face unreadable. The maids' arms unlinked and they embraced. Katie stepped back. Margaret squared her shoulders and went to meet Lennie. Man and maid halted face to face in front of the carriage. 

Margaret slung the carpetbag at the toes of Lennie's boots. She fisted her hands on her hips. "You'll not go off to London without me, Lennie Hodges!" 

Her words were bold, her tone angry, but Elizabeth saw both fear and hope in the girl's eyes. Everyone in the graveyard held their breath. Even the birds in the forest stopped their chattering as if waiting. Lennie stared at the bag. Seconds passed. Then his rough face stretched with a lopsided grin. He picked up Margaret's bag and tossed it in the air. It landed with a thunk among the other baggage on the carriage roof.

"You'll stay with my mother and sister until we get the thing done proper," he said.

"Oh, Lennie!" Margaret's face was radiant. 

Elizabeth expected the maid to launch herself into the burly runner's arms. But Margaret turned on her heel and ran back to Katie, hugging her instead. The two women dissolved in a storm of tears and incomprehensible babbling. Margaret was leaving Heaven's Edge, giving up her life as a servant to become mistress of her own home, a wife and mother. She would have no reason, and probably no opportunity, to ever return. Perhaps, Elizabeth thought, she could find a reason for Katie to travel to London occasionally.

Detective Fielding had been standing with Bergen and Elizabeth observing this strange scene, his mouth agape. "Lennie has a mother?" he said. 

"It appears, gentlemen," Elizabeth said, "that you two may have to hunt the jarvie alone. I think Lennie has found something else to keep him busy."

"Lennie?" Fielding's tone made it clear he thought the notion preposterous. "But he's a runner, through and through."

"Surely even runners have homes and families, wives and children," Elizabeth said.

"Of course some do. But Lennie? With children?" Fielding shuddered.

Margaret left Katie to rejoin Lennie. Vlad took Katie up in the trap and once again headed down the road toward home. With Katie waving teary goodbyes, they disappeared into the cover of the trees.

Fielding covered the short distance to Lennie and Margaret with remarkable speed considering his bulk. Whatever the portly little detective said to the couple made Lennie wince. Margaret's fists returned to her hips. Elizabeth smiled. Detective Fielding might as well surrender now. Getting between a woman -- especially one like Margaret -- and the man she'd set her cap for was dangerous business indeed.

"Lennie with children." Bergen laughed, then sobered again when Elizabeth frowned at him.

She tilted her head toward the carriage where Nicholas and Leo were enjoying the drama playing out between the runners, while wisely not becoming part of it. "Do vampires...?"

"Have children?" Bergen finished for her. "Yes, of course. True vampires do anyway. But not so often or so many as our non-vampire friends."

"And Nicholas and me? Our children...what will they be?" Elizabeth asked.

"They will be what all children are," Bergen said. "A combination of the best and the worst of their parents."

Elizabeth nodded and accepted Bergen's arm, laying her gloved hand lightly on his sleeve. Together they left the grave and walked slowly to the carriage.

"What will you do?" she asked. "Once the jarvie is gone?"

"He'll return to Heaven's Edge, of course," the duke said as they reached the vehicle. 

Lennie had finished tying Margaret's bag securely among the others on the carriage roof. He helped her up onto the driver's box, explaining as he did that she would ride there with him the short distance to Maidenstone. There they'd pick up the driver before joining the others inside the carriage for the ride to London. Margaret's eyes were shining.

"You have a home here at Heaven's Edge, Sebastian," Nicholas said. He slipped an arm around Elizabeth's waist.

"Absolutely," Elizabeth agreed, but wondered if they'd ever see the doctor again. After what had happened here -- the final and irrevocable loss of Lucretia's body and with it any hope of resurrecting her soul -- perhaps being at Heaven's Edge, seeing the happiness she and Nicholas simply couldn't hide, was too much to ask of a man who had lost so much.

"Thank you." No hint of the deep sadness in Bergen's eyes was present in his voice. "But I'll be leaving England once that task is complete."

"To return to Romania?" Elizabeth asked.

"No. Too many memories there."

"What will you do then? Where will you go?" 

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Does it matter?"

The duke cleared his throat. "If you happen by Egypt you might stop in and check on my daughter," he said. "I'd like to know how Lillian's getting on. The letters she sends come as regular as sunrise, but they tell us nothing of whether she's happy with the choice she made."

Bergen raised a brow at the duke.

"I would consider it a personal favor," Nicholas said. "I too worry about my sister."

"Egypt." Bergen nodded. "I might like to see the pyramids again." 

He shook hands with Nicholas, ignoring the duke's outstretched paw. 

"Be happy, Elizabeth," he said and kissed her cheek. 

With a final glance back at the circle of graves, he climbed into the carriage. His boots made no sound on the carriage steps, springs did not creak, and there was no faint whisper of fabric brushing leather as he took a seat beside Leo. And for once, rather than finding the profound silence that surrounded the man mysterious or unsettling or even astounding, Elizabeth found it heartbreaking. It was as if he were already gone.

Lennie walked down the line of horses, checking the hitches one last time. He pulled a tobacco pouch from his pocket, stuck in a finger and thumb and pulled out a wad of leaves. Margaret cleared her throat. Lennie's eyes went up to the driver's box where she sat. 

She gave her head the barest of shakes. Her mouth pouted in the faintest suggestion of a kiss. Then the tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. 

Lennie stilled, the tobacco just inches from his mouth. A cocky half-grin transformed his rough face. He dropped the tobacco back into the bag, pulling its strings tight and returning it to his pocket.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Detective Fielding was not so kind. He snorted. Loudly. 

Lennie's glare was murderous. The portly detective appeared unmoved. He stepped up into the carriage and took a seat, mumbling irritably about valuable men being ruined by petticoats and perfume...and then almost wistfully about someone named Maria. 

Lennie climbed up onto the driver's box and the carriage lurched forward. Margaret scooted close to her man as the vehicle rumbled down the road and disappeared into the trees.

Nicholas assisted Elizabeth into the landau. He took the seat beside her in the roofless carriage. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Despite his injury, the duke settled onto the driver's seat, taking the reins in one hand.

Out in the cemetery the sun bathed the headstones in radiant light, bringing the stained glass windows of the crypts to life. In the forest beyond birds sang and insects buzzed. A gentle breeze, sweet with the promise of summer wildflowers, stirred the leaves. Elizabeth closed her eyes, breathed in, and turned her face up to the warmth of the sun. 

The duke shook the reins and the horses sprang forward, trotting smartly out of the graveyard. Elizabeth didn't look back.

Epilogue

London, 1814

A gentle breeze stirred Elizabeth's skirts, caressing her with the scent of roses as she stood with her father-in-law near the French doors of Mrs. Huntington's ballroom. As it was every year, the ball was a crush and the French doors were thrown wide to the night in an attempt to cool a room made over-warm by the heat of so many fashionably attired bodies. But the gossamer fabric of Elizabeth's newest gown draped lightly over her curves, the skirts dancing playfully around her ankles with the slightest breeze. The gown's short puffed sleeves and low cut bodice left ample skin exposed, ensuring she was in no danger of becoming overheated. 

Her dressmaker had called the gown innocently alluring. The woman had insisted that the thin fabric and flirtatious style in a bolder color would have been wantonly provocative, but in ethereal white with gold trim at the bodice and hem, it was dreamily seductive. Elizabeth had known as soon as she'd come down the stairs of their London townhouse and seen the expression on her husband's face, the dressmaker was right. The duke, who'd been waiting in the entry hall with Nicholas, had taken one look at his son and chuckled.

"Perhaps we'd better take two carriages," he'd said, laying a hand on Nicholas's shoulder. "You may want to return home early tonight."

Elizabeth had blushed, but, in truth, she didn't mind. She's worn the gown with the desire of pleasing only one man -- her husband -- and he'd seemed very pleased. She'd be ordering additional gowns in the same style from the dressmaker tomorrow. Perhaps even a few in those more wanton colors. 

A country reel was playing and the distraction of the lively music increased the number of ladies and gentlemen making their clandestine exits through the French doors. Elizabeth watched them go, wondering how many would find their walk in Mrs. Huntington's gardens as life-altering as hers had been a year ago. 

Across the room, Nicholas, darkly elegant in his black coat and breeches, danced with their hostess. Elizabeth watched him, wondering if there would ever come a day when the mere sight of the man didn't stir the most unladylike desires. The steps of the dance separated him from Mrs. Huntington and he caught Elizabeth's eye. His gaze raked her slowly from eyes to toes and back again. He lifted a provocative brow.

Despite the gossamer gown, Elizabeth's flesh tingled with delicious heat. She dropped her eyes, tugging her lower lip between her teeth, unable to stop the way her back arched and her hips swayed ever so slightly. When she raised her eyes again he was looking much too sure of himself. Then the steps of the dance took him from sight. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth caught the startled expressions of the matrons sitting at the edge of the dance floor. This time the blush that heated her cheeks was one of embarrassment rather than desire. Flirting with a man across a crowded ballroom was unseemly and would cause talk in society salons all over London the next day, even more so when the man you were flirting with was your own husband. Such was the perverse morality of the
ton
. 

Elizabeth stepped closer to the breeze coming through the doors and avoided looking in the direction the matrons again. Instead, she watched the brightly dressed dancers. 

Harriet pranced by on the arm of a handsome and obviously miserable young man, making a point of waving gaily to Elizabeth as she passed. Happily, tonight was the first time Elizabeth had laid eyes on her former employer and her daughter since the two had departed from Heaven's Edge nearly a year ago. Both women had greeted her enthusiastically as soon as she'd entered Mrs. Huntington's ballroom. Elizabeth had smiled politely at the women's fawning and excused herself as quickly as possible, grateful that she needn't worry about encountering Randall as well. 

In the excitement following the defeat of Lucy and her ilk last year, it had taken them all some time to realize that Randall, who'd been left unconscious at the base of the china cupboard in the entry hall at Heaven's Edge, had disappeared along with one of the duke's better mares. The mare had eventually been found at a posting house in a harbor town along the coast, but Randall had vanished. No one, not even his own mother, the countess had cheerfully confided, had heard from him since.