Authors: Jean Hart Stewart
Druid's Daughter (2 page)
His anger at her reprimand showed in the sudden thinning of
his lips. He looked away and did not dignify her remarks with an answer.
Neither one said a word as the horses clopped along. When they reached the
Commissioner’s house Dellafield offered her his hand to help her descend. She
barely touched his palm with her glove and walked rapidly ahead of him to the
door. The Commissioner’s butler let them in, greeted them gravely, then
disappeared.
The atmosphere of the house closed about them in unnatural
and sad silence.
Morgan flinched as she absorbed the family’s anguish. A dark
gray aura of despair hung over the hall and, she imagined, the entire house.
Her antipathy to the Chief Inspector disappeared like a hampering phantom.
Dellafield’s voice was pitched low. No longer harsh, as if
the sense of sorrow had also conquered him.
“Jamie’s aunt is prostrate with worry and grief. I’ll take
you to the boy’s room, as I’m well acquainted with the house. I’ve known the
commissioner since I was a child.”
Neither spoke again until Dellafield opened the door of a
darkened room. Morgan immediately went to the window coverings and pulled them
back so sunlight flooded in. Everything else fled her mind as she stood in the
center of the room, turning slowly in a circle. Dellafield propped himself
against a wall, his arms folded across his chest as he watched with unreadable
eyes. She roamed around trying to sense a mood. The room still held a faint
scent of an active boy. The cream-colored walls were bright and the windows
cheerful with yellow curtains. Four stuffed animals, stiffly in a line, lay on
the bed.
She spoke softly. “Is Jamie so neat then? I doubt it, but I
imagine his playroom has also been picked up. Let’s go see.”
Dellafield shrugged and opened the door to the adjoining
play and schoolroom, which was also scrupulously tidy.
“An unnatural neatness,” said Morgan. “Someone’s
straightened the rooms, of course. His aura tells me differently. He’s as
cheerfully messy as most youngsters.”
She grinned as the Chief Inspector set his teeth and
struggled to refrain from telling her what he thought of auras. Morgan sat on
the child’s bed and patted the covers, even cradling the boy’s pillow and
holding it to her cheek. She noticed Dellafield looking at her strangely, but
ignored him. When she concentrated deeply, as she was now, she needed no
distractions. She picked up one of the toy dogs and put it down. Going through
to the other room she finally focused her attention on a bookcase in the
corner.
“He’s quite intelligent. This Latin primer shows he’s
grasping the rudiments. I imagine he’s slated for Eton or Harrow.”
“I trust not,” said Dellafield. “I’m urging Winchester as an
alternative.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. Why volunteer this particular
bit of information? A statement saying much more about him than the boy.
Dellafield had doubtless been entered at Eton before he’d even been born.
She would definitely like to keep the Chief Inspector
talking.
“Oh? But you went to Eton and Oxford, I think. I’m sure the
Commissioner mentioned you did.”
“Let us say there are boys from the top of the peerage at
Eton and Harrow who take advantage of their rank. Jamie is a rather small and
gentle boy. Nor is the Commissioner titled. I would not have Jamie treated like
some boys at Eton.”
He turned from her when he finished talking. Did he know
what a revealing statement he’d just made? Yes, his mouth set in grim lines as
soon as he spoke. Did she discern a tinge of regret in his voice? But he was
both well-titled and without doubt had been a large youngster.
She started to say something then stopped. She doubted if
demons from his private vision of hell could force Lord Lance to say another
illuminating word. He set his jaw as she went one more time to the youngster’s
bed.
Finally she gave the stuffed dog on the bed a hug and a pat
and spoke some soft words to the toy. Then she turned to Dellafield.
“I’m through here. I feel I know the boy. His aura has dark
streaks and he is quite terrified.” Her low voice revealed her deep concern.
“If only I keep him deeply in my mind perhaps I can get a feeling for where he
might be.”
“His terror is what haunts us all.” The Chief Inspector
pitched his voice almost too low to hear. “May an authentic vision come to you,
Miss McAfee.”
She stared at him in utter surprise. He couldn’t mean to
imply he believed such a thing possible. He volunteered nothing more, but put
his hand on her elbow and gravely escorted her from the house. They were both
silent during the drive to her house. When they reached her doorway, he nodded
in response to her thanks for his arranging access to Jamie’s room. He offered
nothing more than a curt goodbye as her butler opened the door. Dellafield
doubtless regretted his slight inference she might be able to help. He’d made
it plain he placed little credibility in visions and less in auras. A reaction
to which she’d become quite accustomed.
If she possessed witching powers, one thing she’d do would
be to apply them to understanding the thought processes of this complicated
man. She didn’t think him as unfeeling as when they first met. She’d seen his
face in Jamie’s room and she’d never again consider him totally insensitive. He
cared deeply about the boy.
Dellafield reminded her of a dormant volcano. Or a boiling
tea kettle. Cover on tight yet steam capable of blowing the lid off. She knew
he was unmarried and had supported several beautiful mistresses over the years.
Could he unleash his strong emotions in such an ordinary way? Somehow she
didn’t think he’d waste his passions on a transient affair.
Against her wishes he intrigued her. In a strictly
analytical way. They were too far apart to ever interact except in aversion.
She’d always felt most members of the aristocracy were regrettable.
But Jamie, a young boy she now felt she knew, gripped her
mind and her heart. Even if he were safe, he’d now been three days away from
all he loved. He was desperate, frightened and bewildered.
Goddess of us all, how she wished she could call up her
visions at will. She’d seldom longed quite so much to be able to summon her
powers. She was very much afraid she might be Jamie’s main hope.
She climbed the stairs to her room more slowly than usual.
Would she be able to help? Really help?
Equally important, would the arrogant Dellafield allow her
to do so? Or did he feel he’d done his part by taking her to Jamie’s room?
She could feel Jamie clamoring to get in her mind. Unpinning
her hat, she threw it on the bed and then lay back.
Would Dellafield believe her if a vision came to her? At
least enough to take action? Action in time to help?
Chapter Two
Morgan awoke with a start the next morning and jolted up in
her bed. Danger, terrible danger, permeated Jamie’s aura. She wrapped her arms
around her body as a chilling awareness shivered through her. In her mind, she
could hear a childish voice calling to her. An immediate need for action
hammered through her frightened body, speeding her to her feet.
She dressed as quickly as possible and asked her butler to
summon a hackney. Although she loved horses and riding, neither she nor her
mother kept a team in the city. Morgan and her mother spent as little time as
possible in London. They both disliked the frantic pace and refused to make
their occasional stays easier by keeping their own horses.
She gave the address of Scotland Yard to the hansom driver
and sat back, trying to control her mounting impatience. Something had gone
badly wrong. Chief Inspector Lord Laniston would just have to tell her what had
happened. Pray to the Goddess he was in his office and not out on some other
duty.
At the doorway to his office his sergeant regarded her with
disdain and implacably crossed arms.
“You’re not on his visiting list, ma’am. I cannot admit
you.”
Even his “ma’am” showed his contempt for an unaccompanied
female who’d dare to brave the Chief Inspector’s office alone. Evidently it was
acceptable for his chief to call on her, but not the other way around.
“Then will you please tell him Miss McAfee is most desirous
of seeing him? You admitted me yesterday, if you remember.”
“He’s very busy right now, miss. Suppose you try again
later.”
Before he could even turn aside the sergeant was suddenly
confronted with the oversized black Labrador baring his teeth and growling in
the startled man’s face.
“Where’d you come from?” gasped the sergeant.
Dellafield threw open the door.
“What in Hades is going on? Oh, it’s you, Miss McAfee. Do
come in.”
Ambrose bared his teeth at the Chief Inspector. Morgan again
gave him credit. He didn’t flinch, just held still.
“Give him a moment, Chief Inspector. He’s upset and he’s
very protective. I think he’ll soon be satisfied you pose no danger to me.”
Dellafield did as she said, although disapproval marked his
grim face as Ambrose sniffed every inch of him he could reach. The dog rounded
him one more time and then paced to lie at Morgan’s feet. Putting his nose on
his paws, he looked gravely up at the startled Chief Inspector.
Dellafield tried to catch some revealing expression on
Morgan’s lovely face, but all he could see was amusement. He was not used to,
nor did he enjoy, being laughed at.
“Does Ambrose often appear this suddenly?”
He deliberately made his tone mocking, as he’d seldom felt
so unsettled. He did not like it at all that her face when laughing seemed even
more beautiful.
“Ambrose is my mother’s dog, but charged with protecting me.
Shall we leave my mother and Ambrose out of this, my lord?” Her voice plainly
showed her controlled disdain at more delay. “They don’t apply at this time,
nor are you truly interested. I know you’ve received some word of Jamie. Will
you tell me what it is?”
Dellafield shrugged his shoulders and gave up. He was
desperate for any help he could get. He had nothing to lose by confiding in
this outlandish girl.
“The Commissioner received a ransom note late yesterday. The
note demanded ten thousand pounds.” He grimaced at Morgan’s gasp. “A large sum
indeed. We were directed to deposit the money behind a certain tree in Hyde
Park. The note promised Jamie would be released at the same tree one half hour
later.”
Morgan raised anguished eyes to his.
“The huge sum was left and no Jamie appeared.” She shrugged
her acknowledgement of the fact.
Dellafield hoped he did not look as devastated as he felt.
“How did you know? I’m sure no word escaped this office.”
Morgan got up and began to circle the room.
“I would not feel this cold sense of utter desolation if
there’d been a favorable outcome. What’s being done now?”
“Nothing,” Dellafield groaned. “Until we hear from this
villain again we are powerless.”
Morgan twisted a strand of her curls around one finger.
“We will not be powerless. I can’t call up my visions, but I
can pray to the Goddess of the Druids. Jamie is quite, quite frightened. Good
day, Chief Inspector. Come, Ambrose.” She turned back at the door. “Oh and you
might advise your Sergeant to admit me next time I want to see you. It would
save both of us a lot of trouble.”
With her skirts swirling around her long legs she walked
out, a picture of graceful femininity. The big dog followed her after
delivering what Dellafield swore was a mocking glance.
As the Chief Inspector watched her leave, he thought her
beauty and sense of innate honesty grew more impressive each time he saw her.
He could not figure her out in the slightest. He would desperately like to
understand her.
He must be losing his mind. There was nothing to understand.
She was a self-proclaimed psychic and the daughter of a self-proclaimed witch,
or at least a practicing Druid. He couldn’t believe even slightly in her claim
to clairvoyant power. Even so, her scent still perfumed the air, evoking her
provocative presence, lingering in his reluctant mind.
Could there be any more disastrous relationship for a Chief
Inspector of Scotland Yard to even contemplate?
Yet he wanted to know her much better. His impulse to pull
her to him and kiss those luscious lips was too ridiculous to even contemplate.
He must be insane! He’d barely met the girl.
He buried his face in his hands. Just when he needed every
mental faculty he possessed, a semi-witch distracted him to the point of
imbecility. If he closed his eyes this minute he knew he could see every
feature of her lovely face. Her chestnut hair with its reddish highlights
framing her proudly held head. Emerald green eyes smiling at him, even as she
refused to surrender to his politely bullying tactics.
He had lost his mind. Yet no warning seemed about to change
the fact he kept seeing the face of a beautiful, intriguing, thoroughly
disturbing Druid. To make everything worse, in his visualization she seemed to
be laughing at him.
He groaned and pulled some papers toward him.
* * * * *
Early the next morning the Chief Inspector sent his sergeant
and carriage to request Miss McAfee join him as soon as convenient. Shriver was
instructed to wait at her home and bring her to the office as soon as she could
possibly come.
Morgan quickly set out with a now respectful Shriver as her
escort. As the sergeant knocked and then opened the door for her, she rushed
into the Chief Inspector’s office. She’d not taken time to do anything but
stick a hat on tawny hair waving halfway down her back. A hastily slung-on cape
covered her blue serge skirt and pleated white blouse.
“Tell me what’s happened. I know something has for you to
send for me.”
She started talking even as she walked through the door. She
stopped in front of the Chief Inspector’s desk, not even noticing he’d not
risen to his feet. At first he kept his head down and then the cobalt eyes
raised to hers were bleak with despair.