The Barefoot Bride (48 page)

"Thatcher—"

"If Thatcher stands in my way, I will personally knock his sniffing beak right off his face! Nothing, no one, will keep Desdemona and me from leaving. Do your worst, Grandmother. But no matter what you do, you will never hold me within your power again!"

Araminta recoiled from the hatred she saw in his eyes.

"Desdemona," Saxon called to her, "when our father died, he bequeathed us everything he had. Until now, I believed he'd left us nothing. But his estate was the courage he had to follow his heart. His devotion to our mother allowed him to give up his fortune, and now I understand how much richer he was because of it. He had love, and there is no prize on earth more valuable."

Desdemona's eyes widened, her lips trembled, and for one brief moment Saxon thought his sister was trying to speak to him. But his hope shattered when she turned from him and fled the room.

Seeing Saxon's concern for his sister, Araminta began anew her litany about how Desdemona would suffer in the poverty she'd be forced to endure. He allowed her to rage on, and decided that instead of returning fire, he would laugh at her. The sound of her screeching and his laughter rang and echoed in his ears until a small, almost inaudible voice wafted through it.

"S-Saxon?"

He turned toward the unfamiliar voice, one he'd never heard in his life. And there, in the doorway, stood his sister. "Desdemona? Desdemonda?" He couldn't find any more words to say.

"Saxon?" she repeated. "I... this... I s-saved this." She drew up her arm, indicating a yellowed piece of paper pinched between her slender fingers.

Araminta gasped with horror as she recognized the document Desdemona held.

Chapter 25

She lunged toward her granddaughter. "Give me that!"

"S-Saxon!" Desdemona flew to her openmouthed brother.

Saxon had been struck dumb at the sound of Desdemona's voice, but her terrified plea for aid swiftly dispelled his shock. He flung her behind him, his body shielding her from Araminta's advance. "Touch her, and I'll show you the full meaning of the word
wrath.
Grandmother!"

His perilous gaze stopped her so quickly, she almost lost her balance. Saxon reached around and pulled Desdemona to face him. "You spoke," he whispered and hugged her fiercely. "Spoke. Dear God, Desdemona, you spoke!"

"She has what is mine, and I demand it be returned to me!" Araminta again started toward Desdemona.

Totally perplexed, Saxon urged his sister behind him again. He'd never seen his grandmother so hysterical. He could barely believe this was the haughty, regal Araminta Blackwell.

And his astonishment at the sound of Desdemona's voice threatened to erupt in joyous shouting and laughter. But he realized he had to show some semblance of calmness, lest his sister become too agitated to continue. "I will not let Grandmother hurt you, Desdemona," he assured her softly. Only barely did he again succeed in tamping down the fierce need to shout out his elation over hearing her speak. "Now, what is it you've got there?"

From behind him, her hand shaking, Desdemona slid the yellowed paper through the crook of his elbow. As Saxon reached for it, so did Araminta, but Saxon grabbed it first and held it high over his head while he stared in bewilderment at the panic-stricken woman who was still grappling for it.

"Grandmother, step away!"

"The police! I'll have you arrested for keeping what is mine!" She attempted to jump up to Saxon's raised hand, but could not manage to hop more than a few inches off the floor.

"If indeed this paper is yours, I'll return it to you!"

"It
is
mine! I swear to you it's mine!"

"Then you've nothing to fear, do you?" With more gentleness than he really wished to use, he took hold of her bony shoulder, forcing her to keep still while he read the paper.

But as his eyes scanned it, his grip tightened, his fingers dug more deeply into her skin until finally she screamed at the pressure.

Ignoring her shriek, Saxon turned to Desdemona in disbelief. "Desdemona, our grandfather's name was Courtland Blackwell. This is his will. He took a ragged breath. "Where did you get it?"

Desdemona gulped convulsively. "She... Grandmother p-put it in her d-desk drawer."

"She lies!" Araminta yelled. "Though she has spoken today, she is feebleminded, Saxon! Surely you will not believe what she says!"

Saxon snatched off his neckcloth. "Another word out of you and I'll gag you!" He turned back to his sister, his eyes touching every part of her face as he recalled all the moments of pure wonder Chickadee had shown to her. "Desdemona, remember how many hours Keely spent trying to get you to say something to her? Think of her courage, little sister, and tell me what you know about this document."

Desdemona's eyes brightened at the memory of her loving sister-in-law. She nodded vigorously. "T-talk!"

"Yes." He was afraid to say more for fear she'd believe his seething temper was directed at her instead of Araminta.

"Was only s-six, but I c-could read easy words. I... A m-maid... t-tried to t-teach me to read when Gra-Grandmother wasn't look-looking. When I stole that p-paper, I read s-some of the words on it. I c-could read the word
will."

"Go on," Saxon said as gently as he could in light of his impatience to know the story behind the document in his hand. "You've no need to be afraid, Desdemona. I won't let Grandmother hurt you."

"It was n-night, and I was th-th-thirsty. I c-ame downstairs, and just as I r-reached the foyer, I heard v-voices coming from Gra-Grandmother's sitting room. I... was scared, b-but I wanted to s-see who was in there w-with her." Desdemona swallowed and bit at her lip. "I went and p-peeked in the d-door crack. There were three m-men in there."

Her delicate fingers shivered inside Saxon's strong ones. "I... I heard everyth-thing they said, but I was t-too afraid to t-tell anyone. I thought the p-police would come and t-take Grandmother away if I t-told! And... and if she went t-to jail, you and I w-would have b-been...
separated!
We w-would have gone to d-different orphanages! Sh-she always t-told us she would s-send us t-to different orphanages! R-remember, Sax-Saxon?"

"Yes, yes, I remember that, Desdemona. Yes, I remember, sweetheart." He felt like he was smothering, but he couldn't take another breath. "But why did you think the police would have come for Grandmother?"

Araminta hissed. "Don't listen to her! She's a liar! She's making all this up because she hates me!"

"I doubt she needs to make anything up," Saxon speculated harshly. "If she hates you, her hatred undoubtedly stems from
true
things about you!"

"Gra-Grandmother had someone k-killed for that p-paper. I heard it all. There was a m-man. His name was Geoffrey B-Babcock. Grandmother p-paid the three men to k-kill him!"

"Lies!" Araminta cried, her face as white as her hair.

"Silence!" Saxon thundered as he looked at his grandfather's will again. Phillip Babcock, Attorney at Law was embossed at the top of the page. "Geoffrey Babcock," he muttered. Father and son? Brothers?

Desdemona saw his look of puzzlement and struggled to erase it. "The.... the men t-told Grandmother Geoffrey Babcock was d-dead and... and they gave her that p-paper. I saw her g-give them a lot of m-money before they left through the b-back door. Grandmother st-started to leave the room too, but a s-servant girl arrived and asked if... if there was anything wr-wrong. Grandmother was very st-startled, and she sh-shoved the p-paper into her desk d-drawer. Sh-she was anxious to g-get rid of the girl. She took the m-maid out into the hall and t-told her to br-bring some t-tea. When... when they were out of the r-room, I ran to the d-desk and st-stole that paper. I t-took it to my room and hid it inside the fr-frame of my small p-painting of M-Mother and Father. I only t-took it b-because I wanted to up-upset her...
I hated
her!"

Sobbing, Desdemona threw herself into Saxon's arms, her torrent of tears drenching his shirt. "I... f-forgot about it, S-Saxon! Please don't b-be mad at me! I never r-remembered it was there until... until today w-when you and Grandmother b-began to argue about the w-will! Will! I r-remembered reading that w-word on the p-paper! When I heard you and Grandmother arguing about it, that n-night so... so long ago... so long, Saxon... came rushing b-back to me! Saxon, I'm s-so sorry! It's all my... f-fault!"

Saxon realized there was no way she could have understood the enormity of Araminta's actions that long ago night. Though she'd recognized the word
will
on the paper, she'd had no idea how important a document it was. At six, she'd already slipped away from reality, and the only thing she'd truly understood that night was that it would grieve Araminta sorely to lose a paper she'd had someone killed to possess. Her grandmother's dismay had been all that had mattered to her. And what with Araminta's constant threat of the orphanages... As time had passed, Desdemona had withdrawn even further into her distant world, and until this day the will had been totally forgotten.

Her self-recrimination tore at him. "Desdemona, you are in no way responsible for any of this." His arms tightened around her as his mind struggled to make sense of the story she'd told him. "Grandmother, if what Desdemona says is the truth—and I believe it is—you are going to spend the rest of your life in jail. You—"

Her demented howl cut him short. "Courtland had no right to do what he did! He had left everything to
me,
Saxon! And then... then he changed his will and left everything to Grayson! How dare he do that to me—his loving wife!"

Wisely, Saxon remained quiet.

"I didn't know he had changed his will until the day after he died," Araminta raged, spittle frothing at the corners of her pinched mouth." His attorney, Phillip Babcock, came to me and showed me the new will. I... I was
stunned!
But Phillip had an idea. He said if I would reward him for his efforts, he would destroy the new will and give the old will to the courts—the one that left everything to me!"

Her eyes took on a crazed sheen. "I paid him great sums of money every month for his cooperation. I never dreamed he hadn't destroyed the new will. Oh, may his black soul roast in hell for what he did! I was only trying to correct the great wrong done to me! Phillip had no right to abuse my trust in him, the devil take him!"

Saxon frowned at what she began to do then. Her arms held out before her, as if embracing an invisible partner, she was swaying and bobbing her head in time to the silent muic she was hearing. "Courtland never took me dancing," she squeaked. "How I love music."

She'd gone insane, he realized suddenly. Gone forever was the indomitable Mrs. Blackwell, and in her place was a withered hag who had no more wits about her than a cat had feathers. Quickly, he placed Desdemona in a chair across the room and returned to where Araminta stood humming. "Grandmother," he murmured, "how did you find out Phillip Babcock never destroyed Grandfather's new will?"

Araminta stopped her musical fantasy and shrieked gleefully, her crazed laughter leaving no doubt in Saxon's mind she was truly mad. "His son," she spat. "Geoffrey Babcock. I was already here with you and Desdemona when Phillip died. His son, Geoffrey, was also an attorney and took over the practice. When he discovered copies of both Courtland's new will and his old one and then found a ledger containing the record of my monthly payments to Phillip, he traveled to Boston to correct his father's crime."

"And he came directly here and told you what he planned to do," he guessed.

"He had to die", Araminta announced imperiously. "There was no other way. You were too much like your father, Saxon. I could not let you leave me as he did! Only with money—and the fact that without it you would lose Desdemona—could I hold on to you. Grayson never cared a whit for wealth. Somehow, I had to make sure you would not be as foolish as he. So you see, Geoffrey Babcock had to die, my boy. There was no other way."

She started to hum a tune Saxon vaguely remembered his father once singing.

Grayson Blackwell. He had left everything he had to his two children. He'd died believing all he'd bequeathed them was the old, rickety furniture they'd used in their humble home.

But what he'd really left them was the magnificent Blackwell fortune. The tremendous wealth had never been Araminta's at all. It had
always
belonged to Saxon and Desdemona. The will Desdemona had kept hidden for so many years was the proof.

At that realization, Saxon felt a myriad of raw emotions explode through him. That his grandmother had ruled his life, played him in her hands as if he'd been a mindless puppet, twisting, demanding, blackmailing him into doing her bidding... And poor Desdemona! She'd lived in constant terror and had eventually withdrawn into a world so remote, it was a miracle she'd found her way back from it. It was too much to bear. It was unforgivable. Araminta had to be punished!

"You must listen to me, Saxon," Araminta said, her shrill voice breaking into the tempest of his thoughts. "Love is a dangerous thing. I loved your grandfather. Yes, I did. But look what he did to me. He would have left me with nothing had I not made the bargain with Phillip. Ah, Courtland. He was so handsome. But he was cold. Our marriage was an arranged one, and he never cared for me. He only wanted an heir."