Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (14 page)

Avery closed his eyes, and in a few seconds he slept the sleep of a contented drunk. Dera had never seen this side of him. She knew he indulged in drink, but he had never called her names before or been so disagreeable. The tipsy, unpleasant man snoring peacefully in no way resembled the haughty Lord who presided over the estate. What was happening to Avery?

She pulled the covers over him and tried to take the bottle away, but even in sleep he held it as tightly as a lover embraces his beloved.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In the days following the loss of Lydia’s baby, Dera and Anna tended to her in Timothy's absence. Since that tragic night, he had disappeared, and Dera grew anxious that something terrible had happened to him. Lydia, however, didn't seem to care whether Timothy was with her or not. Gradually, she recovered her physical strength, but Dera noticed the woman's lack of interest in anyone or anything around her.

For hours on end she sat in her bed, her eyes darting from side to side as if she were looking for someone. She spoke only when spoken to and gave no indication that she was grateful for the two women's care. What upset Dera the most was that Lydia hadn't shed one tear over her lost son.

“
I agree with you," Anna said when Dera voiced her fear. "Something's not right with Mrs. Brennan. I feel it in here." She touched her heart. "I'm feared for her sanity."

"I wish I knew how to help her. If only Uncle Timothy would return."

"Hmph! Him. I wouldn't hold no olive branch out to a man who deserted me in my hour of need. He'd not darken my stoop again. I'd make sure of that."

"Oh, Anna, Timothy loves Lydia very much, but there are things between them of which we know little." Dera took up for her uncle because she knew how badly he had been hurt. She hoped that in some way, if he returned, he could reach his wife and pull her out of the empty world she had entered.

Two weeks after Timothy's disappearance, Dera went to Lydia's house and to her surprise and relief, she found Timothy sitting in the cooking area and chewing on his pipe as if he had never left. "Thank God, you're back. Where have you been?" she asked him.

"In Ballinasloe. Don't ask me what I did, for I don't wish to say." He puffed away, the shame of his desertion and stay at a house of ill repute distressed him.

Does Lydia know you're back?"

"Aye," he answered, licking his lips. "But she has spoken no words to me."

"You did leave her, Uncle. In time, she'll forget and forgive."

"Nay. I doubt if she even cares I have returned. She says nothing to me because I am not him. That man."

Dera knelt beside him, feeling his pain. "Be good to her. She needs your help."

“
'Tis easy to be good to her for I love her more than my own life." He chewed on his pipe and grew quiet. "How is Lord Fairfax?" he asked.

Dera stood and picked up her riding crop. She smoothed down her skirt. "Fine. He hasn't been out for a time. A bit under the weather." Even as she said this, she lied. True, Avery hadn't ventured outside for weeks, but not because he suffered from any malady. Most of the time he was too intoxicated to leave the manor. She hated what he was doing to himself and to her. She remembered how he had been drunk and mean one morning, saying nasty things about her virtue and accusing her of sleeping with every man on the estate. She had left and ridden Darcie to escape his acid tongue. Upon her return, she found him sprawled on the library floor in a drunken stupor.

The incident had been repeated. At one point, he raised his hand to strike her, but was so intoxicated he fell upon the marble floor and cut his head. When Avery awoke from his unconscious state, he remembered nothing about how he had incurred his wound. So far he hadn't hurt her, but she grew increasingly fearful for her safety.

"Give his lordship my regards," Timothy said. "And thank you for caring for my Lydia."

Though she longed to reach out and embrace him, she could not. In all her life, she had never kissed her uncle for fear of being rejected by him. She bade him goodbye and returned home on Darcie.

When she reached the manor, she was hailed by Shamus, the gardener. He helped her from the horse and smiled shyly. She had known Shamus since her childhood days. Barely older than herself, he had married young and already had a child. She liked him because he was one of the few people on the estate who had always treated her with respect.

"My lady, the planting is to begin next month. What will you be requiring for the new garden?"

She looked at the tilled soil, ready for planting. She mulled this over for a moment. "Roses are my weakness. Pink ones would be nice."

"Aye, t'would brighten things up a bit." He looked down, growing uncomfortable in Dera's presence, because she was no longer just Timothy's niece. Dera sensed this.

"How are your wife and the new baby?" she asked.

His face relaxed. "Doing well. My Maggie thanks you for the blanket you sent our babe. Real lace, it was," he said in awe.

“
I’m pleased she liked it.”

“
Aye, that she did. I’ll put your horse up,” he volunteered.

Dera was halfway up the stairs on the way to her room when Avery appeared in the parlor doorway. He hadn't shaved and he wore no jacket, just a rumpled shirt and trousers.

"Come here," he ordered.

“
May I change for supper first?"

His face became a thundercloud. "Come now.”

Immediately she went to him and placed her riding crop on a chair. She wasn't surprised to smell liquor on him.

"You've been traip ... traipsing around the countryside a ... gain," he slurred.

"I visited Lydia. Timothy is home."

"A devoted niece. Every ... every day you visit there. What else do you do?" He swayed on his feet, then balanced himself.

"Nothing else. I help her a bit, then I return home."

“
Don't believe you."

She could tell Avery was going to be nasty by the way he eyed her in cold contempt. She didn't think she could endure his ravings again. "I can't help what you think. I've done nothing wrong."

"I saw you outside enticing the gardener. I ... I know you'd like to bed with him if you haven't already. Remember, you were no vir ... gin when we married. You're a slut!"

Indignation filled her, but she tried to remain calm, realizing that he was drunk. Still, she did have some pride. "You've had a great deal to drink. When you're sober, we'll discuss this," she said and headed for the stairs, refusing to take his abuse.

"Nobody walks away from me, bitch!"

He picked up her discarded riding crop and before she had time to react, he reached her and began to strike her. "Avery!" she cried out, trying to wrest it from him, but the more she fought, the stronger he became. The crop cut away at the fabric of her riding costume, exposing her naked flesh.

"You'll pay for breaking your word," he screamed. He pushed her against the staircase and continued his assault. He raised the crop high, but she dodged the blow and he landed on his knees. This gave her time to run up the stairs. But despite his drunken state, he recovered himself and staggered up the steps after her. Before Dera reached the landing, he lunged at her; his hand shot out and grabbed her ankle in a hold so tight, she found it impossible to break loose.

Ignoring her kicks and cries, he dragged her into her bedroom. He pinned her to the floor with his weight and tore the thin fabric of her clothes away. "Stop!" she begged. "I've done nothing.”

"Liar!" he screeched.

She shook her head from side to side. "I didn’t lie. Get off of me!”

She denied what he thought to be the truth. He wanted her to be quiet, couldn’t stand to hear her lies any longer. He doubled his fist, and with a quick jab, he hit the side of her face.

The pain shot through her with such intensity she thought she was dying. From far off, she heard Anna's screams and a serving man’s shouts and felt Avery being removed from atop her body. Then a sweet darkness descended.

Dera heard a buzzing in her ears; then a droning sound she couldn't place until she heard someone calling her name over and over, drawing her back from the darkness.

Her eyelids felt heavy, but she managed to open them. Anna sat beside her and peered into her face. "Thank the good Lord, you're all right. I thought we had lost you."

Dera looked around the room. The candles were lit and she was in her bed dressed in a clean night dress. Every inch of her body ached. She opened her mouth, but pain seared her face. Placing a hand to her jaw, she remembered.

"Avery?" Her eyes widened and filled with panic.

"Sleeping like a vicious lion. He'd have killed you if me and two of the kitchen lads hadn't of pulled him off you. The man's gone balmy with drink." Anna patted her arm. "Never you fret, for I'm staying by your side. It will take more than a drunken lord to get past me." She folded her arms and staunchly positioned herself to defend Dera from any further assaults. "Get some rest, dear," Anna said, gazing at her in a motherly fashion. "Poor lamb," she said.

"Don't leave me," Dera pleaded. "And don't tell anybody."

Anna nodded. "I told the two lads not to say a word to anyone or they'll lose their posts. It was a good thing most of the servants were out of the house. This sham of a marriage is hell enough without everyone knowing how you're mistreated. You'd have no pride left if this news got out."

Dera closed her eyes, knowing she could depend on Anna, knowing that Anna wouldn't leave her. Everyone she had ever loved had abandoned her; her mother, Mandy and Quint.

A tear trickled down her cheek. "There, there, dear. Don't cry. After awhile it won't hurt," Anna comforted her, misunderstanding the reason for her tears.

But it does hurt! her mind screamed. It hurts unbearably. Quint, I love you. Feel my love and help me!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dera swirled before the full length mirror, a fragile pink bubble floating on air. She giggled in delight when Anna warned her to be still so she could straighten the hem of the rose colored gown. Scooped low, the neckline was edged with white lacy roses and delicate green leaves that emphasized Dera's full breasts and the creaminess of her alabaster skin. The elbow length sleeves, the rose overskirt, and the bordered underskirt were trimmed with the same white lace. A pearl necklace encircled her neck and a strand of pearls running through the luxuriant curls piled upon her head completed the picture of a young, beautiful woman excited about the prospect of her first ball.

"I can't believe that's me," Dera told Anna as she looked into the mirror. "This dress is so much grander than any of my other gowns."

Suddenly the excitement faded from her eyes as she examined herself critically. Outwardly, she looked as she had always looked, but beneath the reflection lurked a certain sadness. She noticed an absence of life in her eyes and a vaguely disturbing loss of spirit. She felt a transformation was taking place in her. Frightened, she turned away from the image in the mirror and remembered that same look in her mother's eyes.

"You look paler than a ghost," Anna observed. "Are you well?"

Dera moved towards the window. "I was worrying about tonight."

“
You'll be fine. No need to fret over the festivities."

"Yes, but I have to play the devoted wife. I can barely look at Avery without remembering what he did to me." The bruises had healed, the swelling on her face had long since gone down, but Dera's pain went deeper than physical injuries. Bitterness at Avery, at life, had invaded her soul. Avery hadn't touched her since the beating. In fact, when he woke and saw the damage he had done to her, he sobbed out his apology, vowing never to drink again. She knew that he did drink in the library after supper, but Dera stayed away from him and was quietly polite in his company. She hadn't forgotten or forgiven him. In fact, she could feel no pity for his drinking problem, because she sensed, as she had done that day at the fair, that beneath the polished surface there lurked a mean, despicable man. She found it difficult to conceal her loathing for him.

Anna put her sewing needles away. "Maybe his lordship will stop this nastiness and part with the bottle for good."