Katie Rose (27 page)

He looked like a specter. His face was pale, making the shock of dark hair falling over his forehead look coal black by contrast. His eyes were very patriotic, all red, white, and blue, while his lips looked painfully dry. He turned his head, trying to assess the damage, but couldn’t see the lump. He didn’t have to, however, for as he touched the tender area again, he judged it was the size of a small apple.

Could they have struck him unconscious? He pictured Jennifer sneaking up behind him, wielding the poker. My God, was there no limit to what these women would do, did they have no scruples or decency at all? Granted, he’d been lording his power over them, but that didn’t justify something like this!

His pride inflamed, he gritted his teeth, determined that this time, he would teach Jennifer Appleton a lesson she’d never forget. If she wanted to play rough, without rules or morals, then he could play the same way.

What exactly he was going to do with her, he wasn’t sure. He tried the door, wanting nothing more than to get his hands on the witch who’d done this to him, but it was locked. Thousands of needles of pain tortured him, his head throbbed even more, and his rear end ached unbelievably. Furious, he roared, pounding at the door, then stopping short as his head pounded back.

Never in his life had he been so angry. Red, hot rage blinded common sense, and he banged on the door again, then howled in suffering. One thought led him: When he got hold of her, when he got hold of her, when he got hold of her … His ire was so white-hot he couldn’t complete the thought, but revenge was the only thing that mattered.

A key turned in the door, and he waited behind it, ignoring the talons of liquid fire that stabbed him repeatedly. A female form entered the room, carrying a lamp. Her back was to him, and she turned toward the bed, holding the lamp aloft, then gasped in surprise when she saw the bed was empty.

Blindly, Gabriel charged her. The lamp fell to the floor with a clatter, and she struggled in his arms. Cursing sulphurously, he released her, knowing instantly that he had the wrong sister. She fell against the door and it clicked shut. Unable to stifle a moan, he nevertheless snatched up the lamp and held it over her.

Penelope sat on the floor like a tangled doll, her dress rumpled, her hair escaping its prim knot. She stared at him, looking like a frightened child who is guilty of something and desperately afraid of being punished. Without remorse, Gabriel hauled her to her feet.

“Where is she? And what the hell did you three do to me? By God, woman, you’d better tell me the truth, or—”

Penelope squeaked as he took a step closer to her. “It wasn’t my idea! I didn’t know! We only thought … you’d sleep for a while.”

“Sleep?” He snarled. “You poisoned me, didn’t you?”

Penelope shook her head in denial, but when he grasped her arm, jerking her back and forth, she nodded, trembling with fright.

“It wasn’t poison, only Auntie’s sleeping draught! We didn’t think it would hurt you, only cause you to sleep during the séance.”

“What else did you do? Why do I ache all over?” he roared.

Penelope looked genuinely puzzled. Her eyes squinted, and she thought hard as she looked him over. When he rubbed his abused posterior, she gasped, knowledge coming into her eyes as they widened perceptibly.

“Well?”

“The stairs. We had to carry you up here. You are heavy, you know. Winnie thinks you shouldn’t eat so much, and then—”

“Silence!” he thundered, and had the satisfaction of seeing her cower before him. At least he could still manage to frighten someone. He regretted his outburst a moment later, when his head pounded so hard he had to hold on to the bedpost to keep from collapsing. Massaging his temples, he realized what had happened. The Appletons, apparently deciding he was best gotten out of the way, had filled his cup with a sleeping draught, then hauled him up the stairs like last week’s garbage. They had then deposited him onto the bed, and gone on their merry way, probably laughing and congratulating themselves on having bested him again. His only relief was the knowledge that they hadn’t deliberately beaten him, although with the way he felt, they might as well have.

It wasn’t to be borne. He snarled, ignoring his head, then gestured to the door while Penelope shivered in
terror. “Open that goddamned door,” he hissed. When she hesitated, he stepped even closer. “Penelope, I know who was behind this, and unless you wish to share your sister’s fate, I suggest you do as I say.”

Penelope’s eyes were like saucers. She quickly obeyed. As she started to unlock the door, she paused as if uncertain who she should be more frightened of. “You aren’t going to stop the séance?” she asked hopefully. “I promised I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Gabriel stared at her in disbelief. “I won’t interfere with the séance, but I want that door opened. I’m not about to be caged up anymore like some animal. Do you understand me?”

He groaned in agony. Holding his head, he tried not to react to the blinding ache.

“It really does hurt, doesn’t it?” Penelope asked sympathetically as she unlocked the door. “I know! I’ll ask Jenny to help you when she’s done. She can do magnetic healing, you know.”

Gabriel smiled sarcastically. “Yes, and I can’t wait to lay my own hands on the magical Miss Appleton. Now, where are you hiding during this séance?”

“Oh, Winnie and I work upstairs,” Penelope explained, leading him down the hall. Like a little girl, she simply assumed all was well now that he was no longer shouting and threatening. All at once, Gabriel understood why Jennifer felt so strongly that she had to protect this sister. “Winnie works the harpsichord, while I make noises and do the lights.”

“Let me see.” Curiosity won over both anger and pain as Gabriel followed her down the corridor. She entered another hall, then rounded the corner into a vacant chamber. Once again he was amazed at the structure of Twin Gables, a rambling house that lent itself perfectly to their schemes.

Winifred looked up from the harpsichord, then gasped
in horror when she saw Gabriel. “What is he doing here?” she whispered fiercely.

“I insisted,” Gabriel responded, the held his head to stop the incessant throbbing. When the worst pain had passed, he scowled at her. “Seeing as you took part in all this, I would suggest you stay out of my way, too.”

Penelope shrugged. “He won’t do anything. He just wants to see.”

Winifred looked as if the entire world had gone mad. Gabriel could see her struggling to think of something, but for once, her incredible intellect offered no way out. Glancing through a crack in the floorboards, she put her finger to her lips and resignedly gestured to the room below. She gave him a pleading look. “Mrs. Hawthorne is here. Will you please be quiet?”

Once again he saw the loyalty of these sisters. Nodding, he refused the chair Penelope offered, and went to peek through the slat instead.

A well-to-do older woman sat at the table, her face streaked with tears, her lace handkerchief dabbing delicately at her eyes. Wretchedness seemed to overwhelm her, and she spoke softly to Jennifer.

“I only came upon the letters recently. I wasn’t looking through his things! Really! Do you suppose that’s why he was shouting?”

Jennifer nodded. “He probably thought you doubted his love,” she said softly.

Gabriel realized that the woman must have heard him. Although his head still pounded, he could still reason logically enough to know that Jennifer, clever, poisoning Jennifer, had used his moans to her advantage. His lip curled in disgust.

“I didn’t know what to think,” the woman continued, sobbing. “He met this woman when he was away in the war. She was a nurse, and he fell in love with her while convalescing. I don’t know what to do. How did I fail
him? I feel as if my marriage was a sham, that I didn’t know him at all.”

“Let me see what the cards say.” Jennifer shuffled a deck of odd-looking cards, then placed three of them before her. One of them had a heart with three swords thrust through them. “Here is your broken heart,” she whispered, showing the woman the card.

“That’s amazing!” the woman said through her tears. “How does that happen?”

Jennifer shrugged. “The tarot gives us a picture of what is happening in our lives, and can offer guidance and comfort. Let us see what else it says.” Jennifer laid out several more cards, one on top, one below, and then two on either side.

One of the cards depicted a woman holding a cup. “Here she is,” Jennifer pointed out. “She is in the healing profession. She is a woman of good heart and intention. She didn’t want to cause you grief. She is sorrowful, for she loves your husband also, but cannot express that love.”

“Was she … with him when he died?”

The woman raised her face toward Jennifer and for the first time, Gabriel could see her directly. In spite of the pain in his head, he nearly gasped out loud when he recognized the woman as Adele Hawthorne, a good friend of his mother’s. Strangely enough, Gabriel knew the woman’s story, for not only had she confided in his mother, but Jared Howe, Charles’s father, had been in the same army hospital and had known of her husband’s affair. Curious, he continued to peer through the crack.

Jennifer concentrated on her crystal ball, then a spell seemed to fall over her. She moaned, her eyes closing, and the room filled with an eerie vibration. Winifred struck up the chords of the harpsichord, and Penelope jiggled the chandelier wires. The woman below appeared awestruck in spite of her tears.

“Adele, my sweet Adele.”

Gabriel’s mouth dropped in astonishment. Jennifer no longer sounded like herself, but her voice had dropped several octaves and she spoke in a masculine tone. He forgot all of his aches and watched in fascination as the woman paused in her grief to stare at the figure before her.

“Robert? Is that you?” she asked in disbelief.

Jennifer moaned, and the room was once more filled with an energy that held Gabriel in awe. “Yes. I understand that I have hurt you. I never stopped loving you. Can you forgive me?”

Adele started to cry again. “Why? Why did you betray our vows? Wasn’t I enough for you?”

“My sweet Adele, you always were. I met Marion when I was ill. She comforted me, nursed me, cleaned my wounds. I didn’t want to care for her. God knows I fought it. But in the end, I succumbed. I don’t expect your understanding, but I could rest better if you forgave me. Can you find it in your heart to do that?”

Adele sobbed. “But I have nothing to live for! My son was killed in that war; you, my husband, betrayed me. And now you are gone … how can I go on?”

“My sweet, don’t talk like that. There is more I need to say to you. Marion has passed over also. She died working in that hospital, of fever she caught from the soldiers. She had a child. Our child. He is an orphan.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Surely the Appletons hadn’t stooped so low as this—to involve a child in some charlatan act! He knew what was coming, and he braced himself. Jennifer would give the exact location of the poor little orphan, Mrs. Hawthorne would “find” the mysterious child, and all would be well. It wasn’t to be borne!

Predictably, the older woman looked as if she’d been struck by lightning. Jennifer moaned, then continued in the same odd tone. “That is why I couldn’t leave her.”

“A son!” Adele pressed her hands to her lips in wonder. “You had a … child?”

“I must go now. I still love you, and will always love you. Do you believe me?”

“Yes!” the woman whispered, nodding her head. “Yes, I understand and forgive you! But where is the child, your son …”

Jennifer moaned. Gabriel waited for her to “magically” supply the answer. To his bemusement, Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“But …”

The mood seemed to change. Jennifer sighed, then fell into a slump. A moment later, she slowly opened her eyes. Winifred stopped playing the harpsichord, and Penelope let go of the chandelier wires. Gabriel had to hand it to them. Their props added to the show, but Jennifer was utterly convincing as a medium. Although he’d never admit it, he was captivated.

“Miss Appleton?” When Jennifer nodded, the woman threw herself at her, sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh, my dear, I saw him! I saw my dear husband!”

Jennifer comforted her, embracing the woman while she sobbed. “Did it help?”

“Oh, yes. He told me he still loves me. But he said there was a child! He had a son?”

Jennifer appeared surprised, then glanced down at the cards. “There he is.” She indicated a page carrying a coin. “He is alone and needs money. I see him.” She gazed up at the woman as if confused. “I really said that? About a child?”

“Yes! Do you know where he is?”

Once again Gabriel waited for her answer, which he was certain would be in the affirmative. Jennifer shook her head, squinting at the card with all her might.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t see anything else.”

“Are you sure he’s … alive?” the old woman asked in trepidation.

Jennifer stared at the card for a moment, then nodded.
“Yes. I think he is alive! I sense a lovely child, all brown hair and eyes. He is definitely alive.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled with tears. “Thank you so much! Although I am still hurt and disappointed in my husband, I feel I could forgive him one day. Being able to talk with him was such a marvel! I feel as if the weight of the world is off my shoulders. Thank you, my dear! You are truly an angel!”

The woman embraced Jennifer again, then dug into her purse for payment. Gabriel sank back against the wall, his aching brow furrowed with thought. No matter how ridiculous, he couldn’t deny that Jennifer had brought this woman a measure of comfort that the finest physicians in the area hadn’t been able to manage. His mother had spoken to him in hushed whispers about Adele’s depression, the source of which very few knew. The woman had taken to her rooms, refused to wash or dress, and had let herself become almost catatonic in her grief. Yet looking at her now, one would never believe she was the same person.

It threw everything he believed into question. Gabriel looked once again at the woman below, beaming with life and determination, and pictured the poor wretched creature his mother had described. Even if it was all a concocted story, the woman obviously believed it and the session had brought her new hope.