Lisette (16 page)

“It is amazing he lived through it.” She was
sure the punishments were more than he had mentioned. A lifetime,
it must have seemed each time, whilst Elisha grew into manhood. She
said softly, “Thank God you were the kind of friend you have
been.”

“He has helped me just as much,” Smith,
offered next, “I had secured a set of rooms away from the
university that we would go to. I tell you without shame to him, or
myself, that during his purging this nightmare life, I held him and
wept with him—I rocked him in my arms like a babe. I got him drunk.
Provoked him—so that there was not a thing unbroken in that place,
including two of his fingers on my jaw.” He stared at her
unblinking. “I gave him the only love he had ever in his life,
felt.”

She leaned up and took Smith’s hand.

He held to it and dropped his eyes there, to
their linked hands, saying, “The man who faced the Viscount was no
broken boy, nor young man with a warped vision of the
world—believing he was born to suffer in it. He let his father
rage—and then ripped the old Viscount to shreds with the foul
truth. Elisha scorned him, mocked his manhood, and when his father
was so enraged as to go for his pistols to kill Marston—Elisha took
him and locked him in the cellars overnight. He gave him no food or
water. And for every curse hurled through the door—Elisha sat on
the steps and laughed and mocked all the more.”

“I don’t blame him.” She did not, though she
knew it was likely just as hellish for Elisha to do that.

“He did that for three days. Then took him
out but allowed him water only. In the next week, Elisha followed a
routine of much of the same—save he made his father write it all
down—the truth of the abuse. At the end of it, he had his things
packed and told his father if he ever set foot on the estate,
they—the words—would be published.

Elisha cared nothing for the wealth. It nor
the title. That had never given him anything. In fact—it allowed
his father to be what he was, without censure or interference. The
Viscount knew that. Therefore, he had no threats with which to
counter. Elisha was leaving. He had not put his trunks on the coach
before the shot sounded. It was reported as a tragic accident, thus
they could quietly bury the old Viscount and move to the
estate.”

Lisette released a held breath slowly.

When Smith let go of her hand, he arose and
poured them a brandy.

She was more than ready for it.

A bit later, standing with him by the
windows, the traffic obscured by rain, she asked at one point, “Why
did he pursue me?”

“Because—you are everything he sees as life
and joy. He watched you a long time before he approached the
duchess. You fascinated him. By your spirit and warmth—your very
unique way of being yourself, regardless of your father’s lofty
position and the family scandal. And of course, you are
beautiful.”

She glanced aside at him, seeing he had a
hand on the mantle, the other holding his brandy glass, but was
looking aside at her. Firelight played over his warm features and
now she could finally put all the pieces together for Elisha, she
could do it also, for him.

Smith offered, “I have encouraged him to
pursue you. I am the one who told him when to stop and tell you he
was withdrawing his suit.” He grinned. “Not that you are
predictable—I merely sensed that you felt pressured, and without
that, you might see more than others do of Marston—and let the
natural attraction take over.”

“You’re a wise man. Very astute.” She laughed
softly.

When he winked and continued looking at her
with a grin, she said more seriously, “Your bond with him goes
beyond brotherhood or friendship. I imagine your feelings for him
are unique to the relationship that both your pasts, and all those
years, evolved into.”

His smile vanished. He scrapped his teeth
over his bottom lip and nodded but looked away to finish his
brandy.

Lisette watched him set the glass on the
mantle. He was staring broodingly into the flames. He murmured
finally, “I was falling in love with you too. Through him...”

That did not upset her. However, Lisette knew
the confidences and the things he told her about them both, made
everything sensitive and serious. Their relationship was complex.
And, she thought, very necessary. In many ways, they gave each
other life. Perhaps freed each other. Moreover, fought their demons
together.

The love was a selfless kind, born out of
each one’s need and each one’s pain—and a belief in the other. It
was actually amazing to her. It was a love to be envied.

She told Smith. “I’ll go to him. I must. But
I want you to come too. In say, a week’s time?”

He did not answer for a moment, but at length
nodded.

Lisette finished her drink, then went over
and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek. Lowering,
she reached up and touched his hair, soft, silken, warm in hue. His
eyes were beautiful and that soulful emotion he held towards Elisha
was there, and what he felt for her.

“Drew Vaien,” she murmured.

“He told you—”

Lisette nodded. “Only your name.
Smith—doesn’t suit you.” She grinned.

He answered it. “I know.”

“I think—you should take your name back, and
use this gift you have. You should let your ghosts go also, and
believe that either way; you are not your father. You are your own
unique self. I think, Drew Vaien, that you should write about what
you know—of the good and bad in mortals. Of the facets of love and
friendship…For you have an incredible capacity to love. Who knows
whom you may pull out of the depths—with your wisdom?”

He looked almost abashed when she dropped her
hand.

However, Lisette said, before taking her
leave, “We will speak of it more, but you will have a home always
with Elisha and support from myself and my family, in whatever you
undertake.”

He was helping her on with her coat and hat,
and after she turned to face him offered gruffly, “I was hoping
you’d come here—and beat the door down. Force me to tell you.”

She winked. “I am a Wimberly. You should have
expected it.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes shining warmly.
“I’ll see you, Lady Lisette. Soon.”

Chapter Eight

The manor house sat back, behind a low stone
wall, with great iron gates. It was easily the size of Wimberly,
but in the gothic design. A beaten stone drive lead to the house—,
which was made in darker stone, and having arched windows. Gardens
and statuary around it were gothic; many gargoyles and dragons—and
although it was intimidating, the deep green hue of the lawns and
the well-nourished and full fruit trees, shrubs in bloom, somehow
made it more whimsical, than foreboding.

It was oddly uplifting to Lisette’s spirits
considering she had no idea how Elisha would greet her intrusion.
It was all a risk. However, she was born to that-and had committed
herself fully to her decision.

Long before the coach stopped at the end of
the drive, the front doors opened. At first, a butler stood on the
top of the half-moon stoop, but when the coach stopped fully and
she was alighting, Marston appeared. He passed the servant and came
down the shallow steps to the stone walk, reaching her door in time
to hold it.

Though Lisette was more interested in his
expression, and reaction, she took in the close fit trousers he
wore and black polished Hessians, and a white shirt with banded
collar. Heart racing at the sight of him, stepping out and raising
her eyes to his face, she could discern his efforts, and
determination to remain remote. Knowing what she did, knowing him
intimately now, she understood where his pride and
self-preservation came in.

She let her brightest smile bloom.
“Hello.”

Marston blinked and shut the coach door.

The driver set her trunk and bags down, and
then rolled away from them.

Lisette reached for his hand and held it.
“I’ve come for a visit. Will you introduce me to your sister?”

“Lisette…” his tone was gruff, his expression
hardening.

She whispered softly, “I know. I
know—everything.” Lisette gave his hand a squeeze. “You should have
trusted me enough to unburden, but I understand why such things
would be difficult.” She searched his face, and then held his eyes.
“Won’t you trust me now, Elisha? Just—trust me.”

He breathed in through his nose as if
containing emotions, and turned to the butler saying, “Send someone
to fetch her ladyship’s bags.”

The butler nodded. Soon footmen were outside
too lifting her trunks.

She said, “Not the bag. I’ve gifts for the
Viscounts sister in them.” Lisette glanced at Marston. “From my
family, too.”

He took the bag, breaking their handhold. She
followed the footmen in. giving over her coat and gloves, Lisette
saw that Marston awaited her at the bottom of the stairs. Walking
up them, looking around, she thought the place needed work, but it
was certainly more cheerful than his townhouse. That place—she
decided, needed to be sold and another purchased.

“Wait here,” he instructed, when they reached
the landing. He was looking down a hall.

“I’ll wait.” Lisette kept her smile cheerful,
though she read his tension—and his trying to hide his surprise. He
went to a set of double doors. She looked opposite, hearing voices,
and then watching servants come out of apartments that also had the
doors opened. They were carrying pails and cloths.

“Afternoon.” She smiled at them.

They appeared startled to see her, but
curtsied and smiled back.

“I’m Lady Lisette Willingham.”

“My Lady.” One of the older ones stopped, and
pushed her hair back under her cap. “I’ll fetch the
housekeeper.”

“No need. Your master is looking after me.
Thank you.”

The maid nodded, quite openly looking her
over. “We weren’t expecting guests. We’ve been clearing out
the—some of the apartments.”

“Don’t let me be a bother.” Lisette nodded.
“I’m quite used to bustle, noise, and seeing to myself. I come from
a large family. And my brother, a Marquis, just married our
coachman’s daughter.”

The maid bit her lip but her eyes were
laughing. “You don’t say.”

“Um. It was quite a scandal.” Lisette went
the bag and opened it. “Can you read?”

“A little. George, the butler, he reads to
us.”

Lisette handed her a paper. “It’s all there.
It happened on my birthday. They are most happy, expecting an heir
soon.” She began reading the piece, seeing many of the other maids
had stopped and were listening.

* * * *

Having gone in to prepare his sister for
Lisette’s visit—Elisha was not quite prepared himself, so he took
several deep breaths after he entered the sitting room. (She
knew—everything.) There was only one source of that
information—Drew.

Elisha did not have time to process what it
all meant right now.

“Pamela.” He passed into the bedchamber, glad
to see Pamela was up and dressed, standing by the windows.

She turned to regard him. “Yes?”

“She is here. Lady Lisette. She just—showed
up.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “She wants to
meet you. And has brought gifts, she says.”

A smile formed on those dry lips and echoed
in dark eyes. “She has come to you, Elisha?”

He wiped a hand over his face, holding her
gaze. “I don’t know.”

“She has.” Pamela insisted. She looked down
at the silver and black gown she wore. “Will this do, for a duke’s
daughter?”

“Lisette won’t care what you are wearing.
What I want to know is—are you comfortable meeting her.”

“No. But for you, for what I know you feel, I
want to meet her.”

He nodded and then kissed her forehead. “You
are so brave. So good.”

“Go and show her in.”

When she lifted her head, he turned to go
back out. In the hallway, Elisha stopped abruptly, hearing all of
the maids laughing—and seeing that Lisette was the reason.

Shaking his head, he saw her turn and notice
him observing.

She said to the maid, Ella. “Keep it. I have
others.” She did not see them watching her walk toward him, nor see
their grins and raised brows when she told him, “Bring that bag,
will you, darling?”

Elisha fetched it and winked at the maids who
watched him join Lisette before continuing downstairs.

Pamela had come into the sitting room.
Sunlight lit on her raven hair that flowed down to her waist
unadorned, but it also showed the translucency of her skin, and the
thinness of her frame.

He watched her start a curtsy, but Lisette
said, “Oh. No. Don’t curtsey to me.” She laughed and went to
Pamela, and murmured, “May I hug you instead? My family and I are
frightfully informal. We embrace everyone.”

He could not quite breathe or swallow when
Pamela nodded looking a bit overwhelmed too when the shorter woman
hugged her and kissed her cheek.

Pamela flickered a glance to him. Elisha
smiled and shrugged.

“I’ve wanted to meet you ever so long. Where
shall we sit?” Lisette kept a hold of her hand.

“Here, my lady?”

“Lisette. And yes, this is lovely. We are not
blinded by the sun but can breathe that fresh air.” Lisette glanced
at him. “Come, join us.”

Elisha did, setting the bag by Lisette’s
chair.

She smiled at him, and then turned to his
sister again. “I’ve brought you some gifts. My mama sent you
something also.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“Nonsense.” Lisette laughed. “I was so
nervous too. Hoping that if we did meet, you would like me.” Rising
from digging in the bag, she held three books on her lap a moment,
and studied Pamela’s face, “You are quite the most beautiful woman
I’ve ever seen. Do you know that?”

Pamela flushed. “Thank you…I don’t…”