Buried Secrets (26 page)

He tried for a light tone, but knew he was unsuccessful in concealing the unhappiness that seemed to fill him with the bleakness of death itself.

“You’re serious!” she choked. “Oh, dear Heaven, this . . . this
cannot
be!”

He suppressed the urge to pull her to him. Instead, he released her. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a handkerchief and began mopping her cheeks. He forced a smile.

“I’m afraid, my dear, you’re going to have to explain that remark. It is becoming painfully clear that you do not reciprocate my artless sentiments, but a simple, ‘Thank you, sir, but no thank you,’ would suffice.”

Gillian gasped. “Oh, Cord, I would not have you hurt for anything in the world—but, no,” she sobbed, “I do not love you.” She twisted to face him. “Don’t you see? You are worthy of any woman’s love. It’s—” She broke off for a moment, unable to speak, but concluded at last in a low, harsh voice. “It is I who am at fault.”

Cord could only gape at her. What the devil . . . ? What was she saying? Had she lain with her beloved Kenneth and now felt herself soiled? Or worse, had she consoled herself in the arms of another man—more than one, perhaps?

Apparently the tenor of his thoughts conveyed itself to Gillian, for she drew away from him a little. She bent a twisted smile on him.

“It is not what you think, my lord earl. I am pleased to tell you—since it seems to matter so greatly—that I am still pure. No, my sin—to my mind at least—was much worse. You see—” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I killed Kenneth.”

Again, Cord experienced the feeling that the universe had suddenly tilted on its side. “What!”

Gillian lifted a hand. “Forgive me. I am being unduly melodramatic, I suppose. I did not physically take his life, but I might as well have, for I was wholly responsible for his death.”

The world was still tilted sickeningly around him, but Cord took Gillian’s hands in his. “Can you tell me about it?” he whispered, barely able to force the words through the lump that had formed in his throat.

Gillian’s gaze fell to her lap, where she carefully pleated a fold of skirt in trembling fingers. She said nothing for a long moment, but at last lifted her eyes.

“I have never spoken of this to a living soul,” she whispered. “You see, as I think I told you, Kenneth and I met when his parents moved into the neighborhood. His father, like mine, was a country squire. Our parents became friends almost immediately, and Kenneth and I were thrown together. To tell the truth, I was highly pleased at this turn of events, because Kenneth was such a handsome young man, and universally liked from the start—not just because of his looks, but because he was all that was good in temperament, character and mind. He was gentle and kind, always doing for others. I’m sure you know the sort. People were attracted to him as to a beautiful garden.

“He told me later that he loved me from the first moment we met. He was so openhearted and direct that I became aware of this almost immediately. I could not help but respond. He was so eminently loveable, you see. And, I must admit that there was the extra fillip of being the woman selected by the most sought-after man in the county. I basked in his affection, and when my parents noticed and began to talk of marriage, I fell in with their plans.”

“How long did it take this paragon to propose?” asked Cord, unable to contain the acid that seemed to be eating a hole in his heart.

Gillian glanced up at him swiftly. “Not long. Six months after we first became acquainted, he asked me to be his wife. It was a lovely summer afternoon, and we had come out to stroll in the orchard. I said yes, of course, and we sealed our betrothal with a long, loving kiss. Our families were ecstatic when we brought them our news. We made plans for a wedding the following summer.”

“A year?”

Gillian faltered. “Y-yes. Kenneth wished to be married right away, but something in me—that is, I told him we should take the time to get to know each other better.”

“What nonsense,” interposed Cord roughly. “One may recognize one’s love in a much shorter time than six months.” He forced a painful smile to his lips. “Three weeks, for example, may sometimes suffice.”

Gillian hurriedly returned to pleating her skirt. “In any event, Kenneth, with the thoughtfulness that was his hallmark, bowed to my wishes. I was sure that in time my love for Kenneth would grow and . . . and mature. However, as the months passed, I found myself . . . dissatisfied. All at once, the fun seemed to have drained from Kenneth’s soul, to be replaced with a sort of respectful worship. His kisses were warm and tender and . . . and loving, but they stirred no passion in me. Dear Heaven, despite his every evidence of devotion, I wanted more.”

“Not surprisingly,” grunted Cord.

Ignoring him, Gillian hurried on. “When he visited me at home, he behaved with the utmost propriety, laying kisses on my lips, humbly, like a supplicant seeking favors from his goddess. When he spoke of our married life, he made it sound somehow dull beyond belief, dwelling on hours spent by the fire reading to each other and the years he would spend making my every dream come true.

“I should have been ecstatic at this evidence of his devotion, but I was very young—and I wanted sparks to fly when he kissed me. I wanted him to steal my very breath. I wanted . . .”

“To know the fire and the fine madness of first love.”

Gillian sighed. “I tried flirting with other young men in hopes of provoking his jealousy, but all he ever did was smile a sad, sweet smile and tell me he did not begrudge my liveliness of spirit. It was what he loved most about me, he said.

“I’m afraid I became petulant. Nothing he did suited me. His flowers did not go with my dress. The poetry he wrote to praise my fine eyes was insipid. His plans for my enjoyment at the fair or a day at the seaside were too tame by half.

“Arrangements for the wedding proceeded, and as the time approached I began to experience a kind of panic. In Kenneth’s presence, I exhibited all the maidenly anticipation of a caged she-wolf.”

Cord placed his hand on hers. Her description of her behavior, so different from the Gillian he knew, was obviously the product of her own self-loathing. Lord he wished he could assuage her anguish.

“It was inevitable,” Gillian continued, “that Kenneth would notice my obvious change of heart. He even asked one day if I were sure I wished to marry him. If I’d had an ounce of resolution, I would have ended the betrothal right there—with all the tact at my disposal, of course, but still put an end to it. But he stared at me with his great blue eyes, as though preparing himself for a deathblow, and—”

“And you couldn’t do it—at least, not then. You succumbed to one of the strongest tyrannies in existence, that of the weak over the strong.”

Gillian gasped indignantly. “Kenneth wasn’t—” She sagged abruptly. “Well, yes, I suppose he was when it came to me. At any rate, I assured him I was in alt over our coming marriage. But then, I added in what I’m sure was an unpleasant whine, ‘Could we not make our wedding journey in Spain or Italy? Papa has said he would gift us, and I’d like to do
something
exciting before we settle down to our lifetime of rural placidity.’

“Kenneth’s lips tightened, but he said only that he would look into it.”

Gillian paused, and her eyes took on a faraway look.

“At last, however”—she drew in a ragged breath— “though I couldn’t end the betrothal at that time, as the wedding date approached, I became panicky. Finally, only a week or so before the ceremony was to take place I took him aside one evening and blurted out in the most tactless manner possible, that I had decided not to marry him after all.” Gillian’s voice broke. “As I expected, he was devastated, but he made no attempt to change my mind. Instead, he said nothing for a very long time, merely sitting there with his head bowed. At last he rose and thanked me gravely for my honesty—and turned on his heel and walked out the door.”

Gillian slumped in her seat, her misery almost palpable.

“There was a tremendous uproar. My parents were appalled, and my friends mystified and angry. Indeed, it seemed the only friend I had left in the whole village was Kenneth. He defended my decision at every turn, and still visited me at my home with steadfast regularity, behaving as a good friend. It was almost as though we had never been betrothed, except that I was aware every moment of his heartbreak.”

“I expect he made sure of that,” murmured Cord dryly.

“No,” Gillian replied, her voice quiet. “Kenneth was not like that.”

She drew a long breath. “This was in ‘13, just when Napoleon was making a strong push in Spain. The war seemed a thousand miles away from our little green paradise in Lincolnshire, but, still, we read the news in the papers.

“A week later, on the day we were to have been wed, word spread around the village that Kenneth planned to join the army. I ran to find him, and he told me that it was true. His father had bought him a pair of colors, and he would be joining the British forces in the Peninsula within the week.

“The village buzzed with shocked disapproval—all aimed at me. My parents were at first dumbstruck, but soon rallied to bewail his decision. They railed at me for driving Kenneth to this disastrous decision. They flew to consult with Kenneth’s parents, who were equally appalled. They were furious with Kenneth, but, of course, they were even more furious with me, fully comprehending what had prompted him to take such an action.

“I knew, of course, why he had made this decision. He realized that I thought him dull and wished to prove to me that he could be as dashing and heroic as the next fellow. I tried to dissuade him, but to no avail. Within another week he was gone,” Gillian concluded with a whisper.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t love Kenneth,” she wailed. “I did! I loved him—for who could not? I just could not love him in the way a woman should love the man with whom she is prepared to spend the rest of her life. For me there was no fire! I felt no connection with him! And I needed that.”

“Of course you did,” said Cord. “And I think I am beginning to see where this is leading.”

“Yes,” replied Gillian dully. “I suppose you are. For, indeed, Kenneth earned his colors. Word filtered back to us of his deeds of courage in battle. Not from him, of course, for though he wrote to me nearly every day, not a word of his heroism filtered through his pen. No, two of the lads from the village were stationed in the same unit as Kenneth, and they faithfully reported his glorious deeds to their families. From whence, of course, they spread round the village like a catchy tune.”

“And were you gratified,” asked Cord dryly, “that Kenneth was at last living his life with all the passion and verve he had kept hidden from you?”

“Yes—in some dark, despicable corner of my heart.” Gillian’s voice was harsh and grating. “But I was afraid for him, too. I lived every day in terror that one day he would go too far. That one day he would sally forth with trumpets blazing and never return.”

“And that’s just what happened.” The words came raw from Cord’s throat.

“Yes,” Gillian replied tonelessly. “He was sent to America after Toulouse, but he said he would be coming home soon. However, Napoleon escaped from Elba, and Kenneth was called back to fight in Belgium. The news came to us that he had died—gloriously—saving the lives of several of his comrades-in-arms at Waterloo.”

“And it was all your fault.”

At the bitterness in Cord’s voice, Gillian lifted a startled gaze. “Yes, of course it was. I had driven him away from me in the crudest, most callous way imaginable. I had proven myself unworthy of the love of a good man. Everyone in the village made sure I was aware of that fact. Even my best friends hurled reproach at me. Not that I could blame them, of course. There was nothing they could say that I had not cried out in my own mind a thousand times over.”

Gillian twisted to face Cord directly.

“Now you know why I chose to come here—to live in relative obscurity. Now you know why I never married.”

“I beg your pardon?” Cord asked blankly. “Your story is tragic, but I heard nothing to explain your decision to run away from the world.”

Gillian hardly knew what reaction she had expected from Cord—anything from the coldest contempt to a blazing anger. However, his matter-of-fact puzzlement was completely unexpected.

“But—” Gillian sputtered.

“It sounds to me very much as though, despite your efforts to the contrary, you did not love Kenneth. You wisely declined to marry him—even if it was at the last minute. You could hardly know that he would take such a foolish, drastic step in what anyone of sense would have known was a futile effort to generate love where there was none. You loved him as a dear friend, Gillian, and you could do no more.”

If Cord had dashed a cup of ice water in her face, Gillian could not have been taken more aback. “What a cold, unfeeling thing to say!” she cried. “You’re right. I could do no more—and that was my sin. I was unable to love him, but I made him feel that my lack of response was somehow his fault. I drove him into a course of action completely unsuited to one of his gentle temperament, with, as you say, a tragic result.”

Cord took both her hands in his own. “My dear, very dear Gillian,” he said gently. “I cannot believe you are serious about all this.”

Gillian gasped, but replied shortly, “Dear God, Cord, Kenneth rode off to his death because of me. Don’t you see? I proved that I am completely unworthy of his love—or that of any man!” Gillian was dry-eyed now, but her voice was low and hard and desolate as she spoke again. “In addition, I proved that inside I am cold and dead, for, as so many people told me—” She laughed shortly. “Even the vicar strongly implied that since I could not love someone like Kenneth, I must be incapable of love.”

Her mouth twisted into a bitter caricature of a smile. “And now, Cord, I trust I have explained to your satisfaction why I do not wish to hear your candy-box words of love or your proposal of marriage. I’m sure it is your earnest wish at this moment to leave me to my tedious reflections, and you have my leave to do so.”

For a long moment. Cord stared at Gillian. Pain fairly radiated from her, flaying him with her anguish. She really believed everything she had told him! She thought herself a monster, unloving and unlovable.