Never to Part (28 page)

“Twined plait. Laurel’s magic?” Daphne envisioned Heart Haven’s gardens. “Twined plait. Laurel,” she mused. “Could it mean the laurel formed and trimmed into intertwined hearts?

“If so, what does the moonbeam have to do with it?” Daphne shook her head and read further. “Mayhaps that is
at strike of midnight
?”

“
If they
,” she continued reading, her voice caught with the thought of Richard and her as
they
. “
But triumph over invidious lure and loves bloodied pride; Great joy will be Branch’d of long ago; Happy knight himself did once possess; His lady’s laurel crown unspoiled; And ever when he did her behold; His heart did melt in pleasures far richer than gems and gold
.”

Daphne blinked back tears at the implication. The words only increased the guilt she battled since leaving Shenley. She sniffed. “What can love have to do with the treasure?” With reluctance she eyed the last phrase but could not bear to again read it aloud.

By the God’s this Muse be called to warn; Beware chance missed to see the heart; Understand a’right comprehension hangs on but a breath; Treasure outshone by doubloons sought for reasons unwise; If love turns, worms’ dust corrodes the soul; Lost for’er happiness and joy.

 * * * *

Hungry after his afternoon of fruitless searching, Richard opened the basket a footman had brought over earlier. He settled for an early supper of bread, cheese, fruit, and wine.

Munching on an apple, Richard strolled into the gardens. He stared at the intertwined hearts. Before the verses, the carefully trained laurel trees had seemed a foible of the first Baroness Dremore perpetuated by the romantic silliness of those that followed. Now he wondered at the faint shimmer on the leaves. Was it spectral?

“There are no such things as spectres,” he said but his conviction, like a stone skipped across a pond, slipped into doubt under the weight of the past few months’ events.

The leaves shimmer brightened.

“By Hades,” Richard swore, dropping the remains of his apple. He turned away. When he looked back he was greatly relieved to see the laurel leaves attired in their natural hue.

“The
hearts
must be the special bower in the verse. But how do they connect with a moonbeam?” Richard strode to the intertwined laurel and began to inspect it. A careful examination finished, he put his hands on his hips.

“Not a trace of metal. Nothing that could reflect a moonbeam. ’Tis back to the house to search for that
secret lair
.” Richard paused and then raised his hands, palms up.

“My Lord Ricman and Lady Laurel,” he intoned, “if you be about, know that I depend upon you this night. Protect Daphne and bring her to me.” He lowered his hands. “Reveal your secrets or be gone ne’er more to return.”

“What does that young sprig think he ‘tis about,” roared Lord Ricman. “Ordering us from our home—the home that we built.”

“Calm thyself, husband,” Lady Laurel urged. “Richard ‘tis beset by deep frustrations. He thought to find Daphne here and ‘tis sore disappointed that she ‘tis not.”

Lord Ricman tugged at his beard. “I should ne’er have given that last line to the incantation.”

“How were you to know that some descendant would one day realize there was a very easy way to be rid of us.” Lady Laurel brushed the stray blond lock off his forehead. “He will not think to repeat it once Daphne appears.”

“Where is the wench?”

Lady Laurel hugged him tight. “I do wish one of us could have flown to her side to speed her steps.”

“God forefend that she has only her two feet to bring her hence!”

“Thy takest me too plainly, husband,” Lady Laurel chided.

“I sense her breaking heart. She is nearby,” she assured him.

“And I feel that blackguard Eldridge close at hand.”

 “If he succeeds—” Lady Laurel couldn’t finish the dreadful thought.

“We’ve ne’er truly haunted anyone,” Lord Ricman said. Mischief danced in his eyes. “But this eve we shall. I’ll not abide that cur in my gardens or my home.”

Lord and Lady Dremore embraced. Neither voiced the fact that they would be forever relegated to silence if the line of direct descent were broken.

Silence held.

Richard shook his head. He began to turn when a cold blast of air hit him. Richard staggered a step back, and then straightened.

“Don’t like being ordered about?” he said looking about the room. He saw laurel leaves around his boots.

A low moaning trembled in the air.

“Don’t think to frighten me,” Richard snapped. “You told me Daphne would be here. That she was in danger.” He ground his teeth to keep from shouting at them. Why was she not here?

The moan rose and fell.

Richard cocked his head. It almost sounded like a word. The next time it began he listened carefully. “Be. Be hare?”

A chill settled over Richard. “Beware,” he translated the next moan. “Beware of what?”

Richard studied his resplendently dressed and coifed ancestors in the full-length portrait in the third floor long gallery. He had gone there after his tête-a-tête with the spectres to see if he could garner any further clues. Or be given any more if he was truthful with himself. His gaze rested on the locket pin that adorned Lady Laurel’s breast. Of wrought gold, it was shaped into intertwined hearts.

Stepping back he considered Lord Ricman’s image. The man’s gaze rested on his wife in eternal fondness. “
And ever when he did her behold; His heart did melt in pleasures far richer than gems and gold,
” Richard quoted.

As his words faded into silence the outline of the figures in the painting shimmered. Richard shook his head and blinked at the transformation. This time he did not doubt it as he had that time in long ago June. As he watched Richard saw his features form in place of Lord Ricman’s. His heart leapt to his throat. He slowly shifted his gaze to Lady Laurel.

“Odds blood,” Richard whispered. Daphne’s likeness had replaced the baroness’. He stepped back, swiped a hand across his eyes. The painting taunted his denial. Richard swore.

“What are you up to, you old besom? An All Hallows Eve jest?” he demanded.

The silence deepened. Richard stepped back. The image of him gazing lovingly at Daphne pierced the barrier he had tried set to guard his heart. He realized he no longer cared what Daphne had done. He only wanted her safe.

Richard shook his head and pivoted away from the portrait. The pervading black of night outside the window startled him. “Did you mean for me to miss the fall of darkness. To miss the moonbeam?”

Irritated that he actually waited for a reply and the sudden unreasonable urgency that fell over him, Richard hurtled down the stairs two and three steps at a time.

 * * * *

Daphne drew the cart horse to a halt near the top of the last gentle rise before Heart Haven. The sixteenth century house stood framed against the moonlit sky like a castle in a Minerva Press novels but she hardly noticed.

Doubt prickled more than concern about spectres. Daphne feared failure. But even more, success. She shivered and stoically urged the horse forward.

At the edge of the woods west of Heart Haven’s gardens Daphne drew the cob to a halt. As she fastened the horse’s reins to a tree the dark closed around her like a curtain lowered at the end of a play.

Daphne rummaged past Nanny’s pouch in her large reticule. Assured she had the candle, sulphur sticks, and a largish rock within, she nervously waited for the moon to rise higher. Daphne was taut with tension by the time the silvery orb edged high and hung like a jewelled sphere in the night sky. With reluctant steps she trudged to the gardens.

A whinny from the stables halted Daphne as she reached them. Her heart leapt to her throat at the carthorse’s whickered reply. She sought the house’s windows and released the breath she had unknowingly held when glints of moonlight danced across the dark rectangles like winking stars.

Relaxing a smidge, Daphne studied the gardens. Satisfied there was no bower other than the
hearts
she circled to the right to approach them obliquely.

A tall broad-shouldered figure loomed from the opposite direction as Daphne approached the
hearts
hillock. She sucked in a breath and instinctively stepped back to escape discovery. Her heart pulsed with longing when she recognized Richard. As he strode up the hillock and around the intertwined laurel trees, Daphne edged closer. She watched him return to the front and put his hands on his slim hips.

One step, then another she took; each hesitant. Reason urged her to escape while she could but her heart carried her to the hillock. The desire to be held in his arms threatened her resolve to find the treasure.

I could explain everything to Richard. Offer to share
. She halted. Then her feet refused to retreat.
‘Tis madness to believe he would understand
.

Give him but a chance
, Reason whispered.

Daphne clenched her hands. Surely he deserved that much?

Give love a chance,
her Heart insisted.

Her heart hammering, Daphne walked slowly up the hillock.

 * * * *

Richard paused on the side of the garden closest to the house when he heard the answering whinny. He studied each quadrant in turn but saw nothing out of place. Disappointment flickered. He had so hoped Daphne would appear.

Worry a tight knot in his belly, Richard strode into the open area before the hillock upon which the “hearts” stood. He strode up it and around the intertwined laurel trees. When he returned to the front Richard stopped and put his hands on his hips. Where were spectres when you needed them?

Sighing Richard lowered his hands. Then he raised one and rubbed his forehead as he studied the laurel hearts. Lowering it again he mused, “Mayhaps I am too close to see the sign.” He took several steps back. On the last one he collided with a soft warm body. He staggered, twisted around, and grabbed at the figure.

A feminine squeak of alarm escaped when Richard grabbed hold of the figure. The person stumbled. Richard fastened onto an arm.

Momentum carried them in a sideways stagger. Hands clutched at his coat when Richard jerked the figure into his arms. They tottered to a halt.

“You,” he breathed. His pulse quickened. Daphne’s scent, her warmth sent a jolt to his loins. The word hung in the night air, a wisp turned silent.

Daphne struggled to step back as Richard held her; to ease out of his hold.

Totally bemused he drew her closer.

“Richard—”

“You have bewitched me,” he cut her off. “On all Hallow’s Eve there is a penalty for doing so.” His let his intent flash in his eyes as he began to lower his head.

Richard’s kiss was more punishing than he intended. It set off an avalanche of longing in him but he gentled it. To his amazement Daphne responded. Her hands twined about his neck and she pressed closer.

Passion swirled, enveloped them. When he drew back gasping for air, for sanity, he saw he was not alone in the effort. After a long moment Richard caressed Daphne’s cheek. “The verse said
To open eyes with true love
.” He kissed lips softly, wondering why that phrase had not taken on meaning before now.

Standing beneath the hearts Lady Laurel tightened her hold on her husband’s hand. Together they recited, “to Blaine house’s special bower; Where love confirmed laurel’s magic will free new moonbeam’s power; And reveal the secret lair; the hidden depths as yet unknown.”

In the silence voices whispered, then grew stronger.

“To Blaine house’s special bower; Where love confirmed laurel’s magic will free new moonbeam’s power; And reveal the secret lair; the hidden depths as yet unknown.”

“Did you hear that?” asked Daphne.

“Did you not whisper it?”

Daphne shook her head and turned to the laurel trees.

Richard turned also and saw the image of a man and woman in Elizabethan dress shimmer beneath the joining of the
hearts
. The object in the gentleman’s hand caught his eye before they vanished.

As their forms evaporated, the altered portrait in the gallery flashed before Richard. How could he have not noticed where they stood in it?

“Come. Stand with me beneath the intertwined hearts,” Richard said. “Look at the house with—with eyes of love.”

“You have always loved Heart Haven,” Daphne said with certainty. “It is a special house.” She accepted his hand.

Richard sensed the air crackle around them as they walked beneath the “hearts’ hand in hand and faced the house. An idea that had flitted through his thoughts all afternoon took solid form. “I know what we must do.”

“What is it?”

Returning the pressure of her fingers, Richard smiled at her. “Wait a moment or two.” He looked up to make certain they were directly beneath the centre of the heart. Catching Daphne gazing up at him, Richard smiled again.
There has to be a way to resolve what has happened in the past. To do more than see with the eyes of true love
.

Daphne’s hand tightened on his.

Richard saw her gaze had gone to the bottom of the hillock. “What do you see?” he asked gently.

As if in answer laurel leaves flutter down upon them like a shower of flower petals.

“I se—sense—see one of the spectre’s auras there,” Daphne made a vague motion in front of them with her free hand.

Lady Laurel skipped with joy. “Art thou ready Ricman? The moon is nigh right.”

Dremore took a stance at the bottom of the hillock. He looked over his shoulder at the moon. “A few moments yet, love.”

“Doest thou have it?”

“Aye but I dare not expose it afore hand,” Ricman said. He took her hand and look back at the hearts. “They are positioned aright.”