Lord Deverill's Heir (41 page)

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Authors: Catherine Coulter

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Historical

BOOK: Lord Deverill's Heir
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The earl nodded and turned his attention to his wife.

The earl took a deep drink of the strong black coffee Lady Ann handed to him. He set the cup in the saucer, never looking away from Arabella’s face. He said finally, forcing himself to look away from her, “You look very tired, Ann. Why don’t you go rest for a while? I’ll be here. I’ll fetch you if there is any change at all.”

“No, Justin, I can’t leave her, not yet. Just look at her—so utterly still. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Arabella still in her life. Even sleeping, she is so brimming with life, that you can practically see her moving even though she’s really not. Her father once said that if she were a military man—and she would have been a general—soldiers would follow her even in her sleep. But now—oh God, I can’t bear it.” She broke off and lowered her face to her hands.

“Paul said she would survive, Ann. Both of us must believe him. Go rest.” She got control of herself. She was not a woman to collapse. She wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I’m all right now. It’s just that I love her so very much.” She rose and walked to the windows. She flung open the long dark blue velvet curtains, tying them back with the thick golden cords. Sunlight flooded into the earl’s bedchamber.

She turned to let the warm sunlight shine upon her face. “You know, Justin, Elsbeth has surprised me. I had thought that she would be quite upset, distraught really, for she is very sensitive, so delicate, yet she has been strangely calm. Until Paul came down, she sat in front of the fireplace gazing silently into the flames. It was Grace who was twitching about behind her. I thought the poor girl would weep when I came into the room, she was so relieved. It was Elsbeth who told me what happened, that Gervaise had come to Evesham Abbey to steal the emeralds, and for no other reason. She also told me that he had been her lover, but that he had told her she was merely a diversion for him, that she should just consider this summer as a brief affaire de coeur, nothing more. She said he told her that she must grow up now. She finished by saying that he’d been right. Now she was well on her way. I couldn’t tell her that I’d already known, but it was difficult. I hated the pain in her, Justin. But it wasn’t pain for herself, or for the mistake she’d made, no, it was something deeper, involving Arabella.

“And that’s because she still believes it’s all her fault that Gervaise shot her sister. That gave me something to sink my teeth into, let me tell you.” Lady Ann told him the rest of it, thinking as she spoke back to the previous night, with just her and Elsbeth alone together. “I am proud of you, Elsbeth. You’re strong, much stronger than I had ever imagined. You will live your life now a much wiser woman. You will accompany Dr. Branyon and me to London. There is life awaiting you, Elsbeth. You will do whatever you wish to do. Now you will look at people differently. You will judge them according to your new insights. But you mustn’t be afraid or feel guilty, or any other destructive emotion. No, you must ready yourself to embrace life, only now you will perhaps see things a bit differently than you would have before.”

“And do you think she will, Ann? Do you think she will recover from this and move ahead? Heal?”

“Yes, I do. As I said, Elsbeth seems stronger to me. She also told me she wasn’t pregnant, thank God. That would have posed a problem even for me.” He smiled at that until he realized he was smiling and it fell from his lips.

Lady Ann just shook her head at him and took a turn about the room to stretch her stiff muscles. She poured herself a cup of tea, disliking the black coffee, and walked to the bedside to look down upon her daughter.

She placed her hand lightly on Arabella’s brow. “Thank God, there is still no fever. I would dread Paul bleeding her, for she has lost so much blood already.” She laughed, an actual laugh. “Do you know that Paul must have reminded me at least three times last night that Arabella has the constitution of a horse—a Lucifer-type horse?” The earl said more to himself than to Lady Ann, “She was braver than most men I have seen wounded in battle. The pain was dreadful but she held herself in control. She was remarkable, Ann. I’m a very lucky man. And you are a very lucky mother.”

Lady Ann said slowly, a reminiscent smile in her eyes, “She was always brave. I shall never forget the last time she was seriously hurt. Her father was in a black rage, ranting at her for falling like a clumsy idiot from her perch in the barn, yelling at her that it was unsafe and she wasn’t ever to go there again.”

The earl, who she had thought was not paying any particular attention, suddenly looked up. “The barn, Ann? You mean that private place of hers?”

“Ah, has she taken you there yet, Justin?” He shook his head. “Not as yet, but she will. She has told me a little bit about it.”

“It’s one of her favorite haunts, as I’m sure you know. She never took her father seriously in his order and she was right, it was his fear that had made him try to protect her.

“It’s this special hideaway in the very top of the barn. There is this ladder just inside the front barn door that leads up to the crawl way.

She used to say it was the most perfect spot for being alone—even better than the old abbey ruins—for no one could hear her or see her, and the stable hands could be milking cows below, chattering away, but she wouldn’t hear them. Yes, as a child she would climb up the narrow crawlway whenever she wanted to be by herself. I shall never forget that day—she could not have been more than ten years old—when one of the boards gave way and she fell some twenty feet to the ground, breaking her leg and cracking two ribs. She was very lucky, for a broken limb can result even in the best of circumstances in a horrible limp.”

“Is that when you fell in love with Paul Branyon? When he managed to keep her leg straight and strong?”

“No, actually, I fell in love with him when I was in labor with Arabella.

It was a very long labor, but Paul never left me. I do not believe I would have survived it if not for him. He convinced me to fight, you see.

He has done so much for us over the years.”

“Yes,” the earl said. He set down his empty coffee cup and sat close to Arabella again. “I believe he is at this minute trying to save the comte.

No, he isn’t a comte, he isn’t an anything, but a damnable bastard—”

“What is this, Justin? What do you mean that Gervaise isn’t the Comte de Trécassis?”

He cursed under his breath. He was so tired he was no longer in control of his brains. He had simply forgotten that there were still several facts not known yet to everyone. It was difficult to keep them all straight. Well, now it was too late.

“Justin.”

He gave it up. “Very well. When Arabella was trapped in the old abbey ruins, she found a very old letter in the skeleton’s pocket. His name was Charles. He was Gervaise’s father. Magdalaine was his mother and this man’s lover.”

She stared at him stunned for some moments before she realized what it meant. “Oh, no,” Lady Ann said. “Oh, no. Elsbeth must never know, Justin, never.”

“No, she won’t. Indeed I hadn’t intended to tell you. Arabella only told me because she was afraid she would die and she knew she could trust me.

I suppose it really doesn’t matter. Tell Paul, if you wish. I don’t know what she did with the letter she found. There is one other thing. That man Charles and Magdalaine both died. Arabella didn’t tell me sooner because of her loyalty to her father. If Gervaise hadn’t shot her, I wonder if she would have ever said anything, even to me. She believes him a murderer, Ann, and bonds of loyalty are strong.” Lady Ann was pacing back and forth, pausing every step or so to look over at her daughter, still deeply asleep, held there by a large dose of laudanum.

“Do you know anything about this, Ann?”

“No. But if the earl believed himself to be betrayed, he wouldn’t hesitate to act. Murder? No, that wouldn’t be past him. I think now that it wouldn’t be past me either. I think, though, that with another man, he would be more likely to fight a duel. He had complete confidence in himself. Utter complete confidence. What man could ever compete with him in the field of honor? Hopefully Arabella will be able to tell us more when she awakens.”

If she awakens. In that moment, he couldn’t bear it. He had to feel something of her that held her vibrancy, the echo of her spirit.

“I must go, Ann, for just a few minutes.” He left her staring after him.

The barnyard was bustling with early-morning activity as the Earl of Strafford, dressed only in breeches and open, rumpled white linen shirt, made his way with single purpose to the barn. Stable hands were busily forking clumps of fresh hay into the wide wooden bins, while the farm hands led out the fat, sleek cattle to pasture. His presence in the doorway called an abrupt, uncomfortable halt to all talk. Even the head stable lad, Corey, said not a word.

He did not even notice that he was being eyed with nervous skepticism. He slipped inside the barn and saw immediately the small spindly ladder just to the left of the door. He set his foot upon the first rung. He wasn’t even aware that the ladder creaked beneath his weight. He climbed swiftly to the top, and stepped carefully onto the narrow ledge that wound around to the far corner of the loft. He came presently to a tiny closed-off area, almost a small room, that looked out over the rolling hills behind the north pasture. It was a private place, a place for thinking private thoughts, a place for dreaming. Arabella came here when she wanted to be alone. He breathed in deeply. Yes, he could feel her here, but it was only the shadow of her, none of her intensity, none of what made her unique. This was where she had been when he’d believed she had betrayed him with Gervaise. He hated the ironies of Fate at that moment. If only he had never seen her, if only . . .

He stood silently for a moment longer. He could faintly hear the sounds of the cows and the racket of the stable hands.

Slowly he made his way back down the ladder and out of the barn. He looked bleakly at the giant gnarled oak tree where he had stood so long ago, witness to what he had been certain was Arabella’s betrayal. He felt again his anger, his bitterness, and the overwhelming emptiness. He saw Arabella on their wedding night, her face alight with anticipation until she had recognized his rage, until he had forced her, humiliated her.

He turned slowly and walked back to Evesham Abbey. He heard conversation from the Velvet Room and paused a moment. There were Lord Graybourn and Elsbeth. He was sitting next to her on the settee, holding her hand. He was speaking quietly to her and she was nodding.

Lord Graybourn took in the earl’s disheveled appearance and the suffering in his eyes as he rose hurriedly from his seat beside Elsbeth. “Do forgive my intrusion, my lord. I had thought to stay with Lady Elsbeth for a brief while—to lighten her anxiety.” The earl did not have to force a smile. He was delighted the man was here. He was a good man, one who was caring. “You are very welcome, sir.

I think it kind of you to take Elsbeth’s mind off her sister.” He turned as he spoke and gazed at Elsbeth with new vision, the vision Lady Ann had given him. She was right—there was none of the child left. There was a contained young woman seated on that settee, looking calmly at him. He wondered if he would miss the innocence of her, the childish gaiety she had displayed on occasion. If so, it was a pity, but life had a way of balancing the scales. Only time would tell. And perhaps Lord Graybourn.

He crossed to her and took her hands in his. “Arabella is sleeping soundly. She is made of stern stuff, you know, Elsbeth. She will come around.”

She nodded, only a moment of pained dullness showing on her face. She said calmly, “Did you know that Dr. Branyon is upstairs with Arabella and Lady Ann?”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“He stepped in to tell me that Gervaise had died. Dr. Branyon said there hadn’t been much hope, that he had lost too much blood.”

“It is over then.” The earl felt a moment of sadness for the waste of a young man’s life. Greed was the very devil.

“Yes, it is over. I am sorry that he is dead, but perhaps he deserved to die for shooting Arabella.”

“The shot was aimed for me, Elsbeth. Arabella saved my life.”

“Elsbeth,” Lord Graybourn said, moving swiftly to seat himself beside her. “I don’t wish you to tire yourself. Should you care for some more tea, perhaps?”

The earl did not wait to hear Elsbeth’s reply. Gervaise had died. He couldn’t find another moment of pain, not really. the man had nearly destroyed their lives. He quickly strode from the Velvet Room and back to the earl’s bedchamber.

“Ah, Justin, you are here.” Paul Branyon straightened beside Arabella.

“She has no fever. She is breathing slowly and smoothly. If there continues to be no fever, she will recover quickly.” The earl sagged where he stood. “I was scared to death. For the first time though, I believe you.”

“Good. Oh, incidentally, Gervaise is dead.”

“Yes, Elsbeth told me.”

“There is something else.” Dr. Branyon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the emerald necklace. “I removed these from the comte’s jacket pocket.” He tossed them to Justin, who just stood looking down at them overflowing the palm of his hand.

“Bloody damned things,” he said. “If only I had said something sooner, perhaps it would have made the difference, but I didn’t tell Gervaise the truth. No, I strung him along, mocked him, and look what happened.”

“What truth, Justin?” Lady Ann asked. “What are you talking about?” Before the earl could answer, there was a gentle, almost childlike moan from Arabella.

“She never got the fever,” Dr. Branyon said with a good deal of satisfaction. He wasn’t about to tell her that he also was so relieved he’d sworn good deeds for the remainder of his days. “Yes, it is just as I told you, Ann, she has the constitution of a horse.” He had just changed the bandage, nodded his approval, and straightened to wash his hands in the basin that the earl held out for him.

“A horse, you say, sir? You don’t even allow me to be a mare? A pretty filly?”

“Not you, Bella, and be grateful for it. Now, of course, don’t mistake.

It was I who brought you through it, not all by myself, for Justin was here occasionally, wringing his hands, and your mother sometimes stuck her head in and asked me how you were.” Arabella actually managed to laugh. “You are too outrageous to be my step-papa,” she said, and took Justin’s hand. She pulled him down to sit beside her on the bed. “Did you really just visit me occasionally? Did you really wring your hands? Just a bit?”

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