Oxford Whispers (21 page)

Chapter
41

HER BRAIN FUZZY after a morning spent writing her paper, Madison treated herself to a hot chocolate and a slice of pecan pie. The Queen’s Lane Coffee House was cozy, warm and nestled among Oxford colleges.

Bringing the mug to her lips, she shut her eyes, and let the warmth cascade down her throat. She drowned her sorrows in the pillowy texture of the foam-covered liquid. The hum of the frothing machine meshed with her inner thoughts.

So much joy. So much fear.

Her first time with Rupert, her first time, period, had shaken her to the core. But the episode afterward had dampened the magic.

The acrid scent of espresso tickled her nostrils, forcing her to reopen her eyes. She absorbed the crowd around her: their laptops, their books and the shopping bags hanging from their chairs.

Her heart gave a tiny squeeze at the memory of the roses Rupert had sent her earlier that morning. Red roses, like those he hadn’t managed to give her for her birthday at Freud’s. Grabbing her cell from her front pocket, she keyed a thank-you message:

IF THIS IS MY REWARD FOR SLEEPWALKING I’ll DO IT MORE OFTEN. I LOOOOVE RED ROSES.

That had been her lame excuse for almost pancaking onto the bottom of Magway’s staircase. She couldn’t tell Rupert the whole truth: her obsession with the characters in the painting, swirling fireballs at one, falling in love with another, and her own official stalker.

“Morning.”

In her corner seat, Madison blinked and glanced up to see Pippa standing in front of her, a clasp holding in place her curly mane. Dressed in a bright Grecian maxi dress, she sported an L.A. look that clashed with the near zero temperature outside. That girl had a weird inner thermometer.

“Hi, what’s up?” Madison asked.

“I am soooo hungover, it’s not funny.” Pippa took the seat next to Madison. “But Ollie and I had the best time last night.”

Thanks for the invite.

Pippa scoffed when she saw what was on Madison’s plate. “It’s so unfair. You eat pecan pie, drink full-fat chocolate
and
stay thin. “

The fat and sugar mixture had upset her stomach anyway, so Madison pushed the plate toward her friend. Pippa didn’t need any further encouragement and started scoffing down what was left.

“Oh dear, you look as if you had a rough morning.”

Pippa’s concern touched Madison. Maybe their friendship could still be salvaged. She shuffled on her cushioned seat, cherry-picking the right words.

“Pippa, we haven’t talked much lately.”

The Irish girl’s gaze settled on Madison, then flicked away. “Well, it’s been pretty crazy. I’ve had to concentrate on my studies.” She turned toward the chalkboard with the specials. “What else do they have on offer today?” She didn’t want to talk about their relationship, or recent lack of one.

Bullshit
.

“I realize that, but we used to be together all the time when I arrived here. I miss you.” Madison wasn’t ready to let it go. “Please, this is important to me.
You’re
important to me.” She reached for her friend’s hand over the table. “I don’t want men to come between us.”

“Men?” Pippa snapped, the lilt in her voice vanished. She freed her hand and fiddled with her necklace. “Don’t work yourself up. I know this is all kind of new for you, but get over it.”

Pippa couldn’t know about her lost virginity, but Madison blushed anyway. Her hands were now playing with her chocolate cup, as she stared at Pippa. In Madison’s book there was a fine line between honesty and rudeness. Her friend was close to crossing the line.

“The way I behave with you hasn’t changed since I’ve been with Rupert.”

“Oh, now you’re ‘with Rupert.’” Pippa used her fingers to emphasize the last two words.

“Please get to the point.” Madison’s voice could have restarted a shortcircuited freezer.

Pippa raised her hands in an I-give-up gesture and sighed. “I’m trying to protect you here, sweetie. Ollie keeps saying I shouldn’t get involved, but …”

“Glad to hear you’re debating my love life.” Anger gripped Madison by the throat.

“I’m looking out for you, that’s all. Everyone, not only me, but also Jackson and Ollie, we can all see Rupert is leading you on. You’re already dreaming of bridal couture, while the guy is targeting his next steady girlfriend. He might even get back with that ice cube, Harriet.”

Pippa was punching below the belt. “Anyway, I thought I should say it. I’m sorry if it hurts.” This time, she was the one taking hold of Madison’s hand. “I’m here for you if you need to talk. I like you very much, too.”

Madison looked straight into her friend’s eyes, their sparks familiar once again. Madison didn’t need her friends to approve of Rupert. She was grown up enough to decide for herself. As an act of goodwill, she went to the counter and ordered two more chocolates.

When she was back to their table a few minutes later, Pippa thanked her and asked, “So tell me about the wedding of the Earl of Huxbury.”

Madison was about to deliver a PG-rated version of her night at Magway when her cell vibrated on the table. Rupert.

SORRY, BABY. DIDN’T SEND YOU THE FLOWERS. MUST BE ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR ADMIRERS.

Disappointment filled her heart. He didn’t think to commemorate their first time. Maybe Pippa was right.

Jackson had to be the one who sent the flowers. Madison was close to only three men here in Oxford. If it wasn’t Ollie … he had been with her when she had received the bouquet. And if it wasn’t Rupert, then it had to be Jackson. The only other option, Peter’s accomplice playing a little game, was too scary to contemplate.

Chapter
42

THE RESEARCH HAS been fruitless. We’ll never be able to find Sarah Perkins, based on such info. Female, died 1651 aged seventeen,
somewhere
in England.” Jackson took a long sip from his coffee mug. “We’ll have to narrow it down to a specific location. We need to know where to start, just as your Archie Black had Norwich to find Anne Alspeth.”

He swiveled on his kitchen barstool, oblivious of Madison’s lack of response and eye contact. She didn’t know how to tell a guy he had no chance, a guy you liked very much, someone you trusted,
without
sounding bigheaded.

Around her, the room was as spotless as an operating theater: no spilled sugar on the granite countertop, no teabags left in the sink. Jackson’s kitchen was freakishly hygienic.

Madison huddled on her seat and stared through the misted windows. Her tongue wet her lips. The slosh and clank of the dishwasher filled the silence. She swallowed, cleared her throat, “You shouldn’t have sent me those flowers.”

The question stopped his cup midway to his mouth. He tilted his head, eyebrows pulled together. “I didn’t send you anything. What makes you think I did?”

Oops. Where is the shovel for me to dig a big, deep hole?

“It wasn’t Rupert, so I assumed it was you.”

“I see.” He delivered his comment in a flat voice, but Madison picked on an underlying edge. Disappointment? Anger?

His chair scraped the floor and Jackson started pacing about the room. To keep her hands busy, she grabbed her glass of tap water. Its bleachy taste made her grimace.

He planted himself in front of the kitchen stool she was perched on. With his compact size, their eyes were level. She tensed.

“It wasn’t me. But you’re right, it could have been. Hiding my feelings has never been one of my strengths, even my feelings for a student, which is inappropriate.” Emotion—love, pain—broke his voice.

How could she have missed it?

Madison’s cheeks burned and she kept her eyes downcast for a moment. “It’s fine. I don’t want to embarrass you, or myself. We won’t talk about it again. I’m with Rupert, and …”

Jackson waved a hand in dismissal. His body leaned forward, invading her comfort zone. “Vance is dangerous. He’s going to hurt you.” His fingers rummaged through his hair, betraying a deep agitation. “A girl as smart as you should see through him.”

Everybody was making Rupert look like the big, bad wolf.

And she wasn’t Little Red Freakin’ Riding Hood. “My relationship with Rupert is my own business. I don’t want to discuss it.”

Jackson talked over her. “Have you told him about your heritage? Your gift?”

That was one question she hadn’t expected, one question she didn’t want to answer.

“No. I mean, not yet,” she mumbled. “I wanted to, but then we found my room burglarized, the Bible. And after, I never had the time.” That was a lie. She hadn’t told Rupert because she didn’t want to lose him.

“Didn’t have the time?” Jackson sat back on his chair. “The truth is that you don’t trust him.”

Madison hit the kitchen counter with her fist. “You have no right to talk about him that way. You don’t know him.”

“I know people like him.”

“Oh yeah, like that ex-girlfriend of yours who got knocked up by your best friend.” Shame heated her cheeks and she covered her mouth to stop herself from being such a bitch.

Jackson flinched but recovered. “As far as I know, that boyfriend of yours could be the lunatic stalking you.”

“It’s impossible. Rupert was with me when my room was broken into.”

Her fingers curled into compact fists, Madison was on her feet before she knew it. Then she forced her hands to straighten out.

“You mean a great deal to me. For the first time I feel like I’m in control of my powers. And it’s thanks to you. Don’t ask me to choose between you and Rupert.”

Jackson kept on shaking his head. She wasn’t sure he had understood her.

The urge to get away from the doubts he had awakened overwhelmed her. She gathered herself enough to say goodbye and left the room. Guilt and confusion were storming inside her head. Madison hurried along the corridor without looking back. She grabbed her duffel coat and bag she’d abandoned at the foot of the table in the hallway.

Carefully opened envelopes were piled on the table’s lacquered surface. Her eyes settled on the letter at the top, with the logo of a European airline on it. She read the first few words:

Dear Doctor McCain,

Please accept our apologies for your cancelled flights following the severe winter snow storm …

She stopped spying on Jackson’s personal life and wrapped her woolen scarf around her neck. In a rush to leave, she opened the door wide. She was about to step out when her brain sent a wave of unease coursing through her body.

Backtracking, she checked that Jackson wasn’t anywhere near, and gave the letter a second look.

Scanning through the formal excuses, she flicked to the next page, where the airline had attached a return travel voucher for his cancelled flights. A flight from London to Geneva Airport and back.

He hadn’t gone to Switzerland for a seminar, after all. Therefore he had already been back in Oxford on the night of the burglary.

Jackson was the only person she had confided in, the only one who knew about Peter.

Chapter
43

PETER COULDN’T wait any longer. The time had come for punishment. For justice. The plan would have to change. The Varsity Race was too far away, and today Sarah had taunted him in a manner that demanded retribution.

Sarah would die first, tonight. The roses he sent her would cover her deathbed. The nobleman would have to witness her violent demise, would have to grieve all over again, until his turn came for death.

This time Peter entered her room without damaging the door. When he had stolen her key and made a copy of it, she had not noticed. The pride over his ingenious deception caused him to thrust out his chest and pull back his shoulders.

As always, her private universe appeared neat and tidy when he paced through it. He rolled his neck around to relax his muscles. In vain. His hands touched his lips. His head was spinning and his mind whirled. Peter’s time here, in this feeble embodiment, was coming to an end.

He wandered to her desk, then returned to the armchair and sat down, the body he occupied aching. The comic and artificial sounds of pop music filtered up from the room below. He would wait here for her return. He would wait here for his revenge.

THE BLACK CAB rushed through the streets of Belgravia. Not fast enough for Rupert’s taste. He had to catch Archie before the old chap left the Vance’s townhouse. Rupert had come to London to sign the contract for his summer internship at the
Times
. The visit had come in handy. The genealogist was scheduled to meet the Earl of Huxbury on that very same day at his London residence.

Witnessing Madison’s near death while “sleepwalking” had hardened Rupert’s resolve. His gut told him something was wrong, what with the burglary, her weird obsession with his ancestor, and roses delivered from an unknown admirer. He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but Madison seemed to be in a pickle. A massive pickle.

Getting out of the cab, he hurried inside. As he flung the heavy entrance door wide open, he collided with the professor.

Black leaped back and let out a small squeal. “Oh, Rupert.”

Archie Black was one of the few members of the human race Rupert could look in the eye. They were of equal height.

“Good to see you, Archie. I wanted to talk to you. I assume my father has left.”

“He preceded me through that door. Lord Vance was in a hurry to get to another meeting.”

Of course. Rupert had wasted his childhood making appointments with his own father. “Let’s go somewhere more private. It won’t take long.”

Directing his guest toward Hugo’s study, Rupert closed the door behind them. The wall-mounted TV was still on. He switched it off with a snap. The scent of his father’s cologne haunted the room.

Professor Black remained erect, his tweed coat hanging from his sinewy arms, as he awaited Rupert’s question.

“I wanted to check with you how your research with my friend Miss LeBon is going.” Rupert gazed at the genealogist, then sat. Not in his father’s seat but in one of the padded walnut chairs offered to guests. He pointed Black to another chair.

Black gave a series of rapid blinks and sat. “Well. We’re focusing on the illegitimate child of Robert Dallembert, a daughter named Rose, born in June 1651. A complex affair.”

Madison had no reason to be interested in this family secret that had been buried for centuries. It wasn’t relevant to her research on McCain’s book in any way that Rupert could think of.

“How complex?”

“I was confident I had found the lady involved in this whole saga. A certain Anne Alspeth from Norwich. But Miss LeBon made a very pertinent discovery.”

“What kind of discovery?” Rupert tapped his foot. Archie had never been able to get to the point.

“Well, that lady couldn’t be the mother of Robert’s daughter. So I had to immerse myself again in the mysteries of history, of your history.” He cleared his throat and added, “You were very clear I should help your friend in any way I could.”

Rupert rubbed his brow to ward off a headache.

“On the marriage certificate I discovered in Anne’s parish register, I found Anne’s maiden name. She was the daughter of a certain Robert Barnaby, from Oxford. Robert Barnaby had two daughters, Anne and Sarah.”

The headache had settled deep inside his skul
l. He saw no point in prompting the professor anymore. The man would go on in his own time-taking pace.

“I haven’t told Miss LeBon yet, but I found some very relevant and scandalous information about that Sarah Perkins.”