Martha Schroeder (19 page)

“What exactly are you saying, Amelia?” Jane’s voice was that of the schoolmistress demanding an explanation from pupils who arrive without their workbooks.

“I do not know. I do not know, Jane.” Amelia sat down in the small brocade armchair that sat to the side of the fireplace. She put her head in her hands. “I only know that Sir Richard is now the heir to his father’s title and estates and that he sees some connection here between himself and Gideon that I do not understand.”

“They are comrades in arms. And Sir Richard has stood Gideon’s friend when he determined to gain an entree into the ton.” Jane’s disapproval of Gideon’s social life in recent weeks was very apparent.

“Gideon only did that for me. He has no interest in being a part of Society.” Amelia smiled at the memory of Gideon standing grim and sentinel-like at musicales and routs. “He and Sir Richard were friends then, it was clear to see. That is what makes Sir Richard’s attitude tonight so strange. I cannot believe that he really thinks that a boy of five or six—Gideon must have been about that age when Sir Richard’s nephew disappeared— could have done anything criminal.”

“Amy.” Gideon’s voice was hoarse and weak.

She rushed to his side. “Yes, Gideon. What can I get you? Would you like a little barley water?”

“Please.” She moved to the mahogany chest beside the window where a carafe and glass awaited her. She poured his drink and took it over to the bed.

“Just sip it slowly, Gideon. Don’t gulp it down.” She held the glass and tried to hold him up to drink.

“I can sit up, Amy. I’m not dead yet. For God’s sake, do not fuss!” He hauled himself to a sitting position while Amelia hastened to pile pillows behind him.

“Was Sir Richard here?” Gideon asked, frowning as he waved away any more barley water. “I thought I heard him speak to me, but it is all rather fuzzy still.”

“Yes, Sir Richard and Jane came out from the city to help us.”

“Where is he?”

I
ordered him to leave the room because I think he may have murdered his brother and his nephew, and is trying to make you responsible somehow.
To give it voice even in her thoughts made Amelia blush. Whatever had she been thinking of? True, Sir Richard was behaving oddly, but that was hardly a reason to accuse him of murder. She hoped that Jane did not believe her to be totally deranged from what she had said.

“Amy, where is Sir Richard? Why are you standing there looking guilty?” Gideon’s voice was still a rasp, but his eyes were very clear and bright, and he was completely conscious.

“He seemed to be upsetting you with his talk, so I asked him to leave while you rested.” It was close enough to the truth. “I will ask him to visit you later if you like.”

The door opened, and Sir Richard, his face wearing a bland smile, strolled into the room. “I have returned. A cold collation is awaiting you ladies in the breakfast room. A maid is bringing up a tray for Captain Falconer and me. I will sit with him while you refresh yourselves downstairs.”

“Where is Eustace?” Amelia was not sure she really wanted to know, but she would have to deal with him sooner or later.

“He and Blakeley are being kept in separate rooms in the dower house. Hugh Sidley and others will keep watch on them until you have decided what is to be done with them.”

Amelia thought for a moment but could find no fault with this arrangement and dismissed it from her mind. She had more pressing concerns.

“You will not disturb him unduly, will you, Colonel?” There was steel in her voice.

“I will endeavor not to do so, Lady Amelia.” There was ice in his.

A footman arrived with a laden tray, and Amelia reluctantly left the field to the colonel. “Are you sure Gideon is up to a meal, Jane?” she said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I told Richard to make sure that it was light, invalid fare. He has not eaten since before he left London. A little poached chicken and some soup can only help him. Remember, too, he is a soldier and has been in worse cases than this.”

“Yes, I know, but I worry that the colonel will upset him with his questions about Gideon’s childhood.”

Amelia noted that the staff had provided much more than the cold collation Sir Richard had spoken of. There was a raised ham pie and a sweet omelette as well as cold beef and salad.

Much to her surprise, Amelia found that she was starving. She dug into the meal with zest. She refused a restorative glass of claret in favor of tea. because she fully intended to stay awake and sit with Gideon through the night. Still apprehensive about Sir Richard, she rose abruptly while Jane was peeling an apple for dessert and said, “I will just go up and see if Gideon needs anything. Do not hurry. I can get him anything he needs.”

Jane looked at her and sighed. “Amelia, you are behaving very strangely. It is not to be wondered at after what you have been through today, but you seem to have some very odd ideas about Richard.”

“I am sorry you feel that way.” Amelia was halfway out of the room before she finished speaking.

Something drove her up the stairs and into the ducal bedchamber at what was almost a run. When she opened the door, she knew her instinct had been correct. Sir Richard was again standing over the bed. As Amelia entered, he wrenched something out of Gideon’s hand.

“What have you got there?” Sir Richard’s voice was harsh, accusing.

“Give it back! You have no right! It’s mine!” Once again, Gideon’s words were almost childlike. But this time the fury in his voice was fully adult. He reared up out of the bed and grabbed Sir Richard’s arm with both of his. “Give mat to me, you bastard. No one takes that away from me. No one!”

Despite his weakness, Gideon hung onto that arm with bulldog tenacity. But Sir Richard had superior strength and position, and easily threw Gideon back onto the bed. He bent over the small object in his hand and turned it this way and that while Gideon tried to raise himself up again to take back his treasure.

Amelia flew across the room and launched herself at Sir Richard. All her distrust, all the fear she had felt this day and the pity that she felt for Gideon when he had told her of his life rose up and lent her strength. She grabbed the small iron ball out of Sir Richard’s hands and put her own fists behind her back.

“You dare to take this!” she said, panting and backing away from the anger in Sir Richard’s face. “This has belonged to Gideon as long as I have known him. He is wounded and ill, and you simply cannot stop hounding him. Get out of my house this instant and don’t come back!”

Sir Richard took a deep, gasping breath and stood stock-still. He closed his eyes and passed a shaking hand over his face. The silence lengthened and grew thicker as Amelia and Sir Richard stared at each other and tried to calm themselves. Gideon lay sprawled on his side, his face white and his eyes shut.

At last Sir Richard broke the silence, speaking calmly but clearly with great effort. “If you will twist the ball, the top half to the right and the bottom half to the left, you may see something that will explain my actions.”

Still suspicious, she took the small iron ball out from behind her back and did as he suggested. Slowly the two halves of the ball began to separate, and after spending some minutes twisting them, they at last came apart.

“Oh,” Amelia exclaimed. “Look! It is gold inside. And there is some kind of inscription on one side of it and a crest or something very like it on the other.”

“May I see?” said Sir Richard, his voice still calm but his eyes bright with excitement.

Reluctantly Amelia handed the two pieces to him. He came closer and stood beside her. “You see here on this side is the inscription,
amor vincit omnia.
It is very faint now. The second marquess had it inscribed. This was a gift for his wife. And on the other side is the Southbridge family crest. Again, it is scarcely discernible after all these years.”

Amelia stared at him.
“Amor vincit omnia.
That means love conquers all, doesn’t it?” Sir Richard nodded. “Is it yours?”

“No. It is always a gift to the heir when he reaches five or six years of age. A tradition that the second marchioness began, I believe, because her son, also named Francis, loved to play with it.”

He looked at Amelia, his expression grave and somehow fearful. “It was given to my nephew only two days before he disappeared.” His gaze traveled down to the small keepsake in his hand. “So you see, I badly need to know how this came into Captain Falconer’s possession.”

“Gideon?” Amelia looked at him. He still lay sprawled on his side, but his bandage was now red with blood. “Gideon!”

Chapter Fifteen

Amelia took a shuddering breath and ordered her heart to slow down and her brain to function. “I must ask you to help me. But after I repair the damage you have done—if I can—you will leave this house and not return! Now, get me the pile of bandages from the chest in the corner, Colonel.” She was pleased that her voice was calm. “And then go and fetch Jane.”

“I will do all I can to help. But, Lady Amelia, there is more involved than you know, and I cannot and will not leave until I resolve it.” When he handed her the bandages, she looked up at him briefly and paused, wondering why Gideon’s sudden relapse should affect him so deeply. He had been fighting over that silly ball, and now he looked stunned, as if he were faced with something totally unexpected. For a moment he stood looking down at Gideon as if he had never seen him before.

“Jane,” Amelia reminded him. He left without a word.

Amelia turned to Gideon, pressing a thick pad to the wound and holding it there, hoping to slow the loss of blood. She wouldn’t risk examining the wound by herself. If Gideon’s struggle with Sir Richard had pulled Dr. Leverett’s stitches loose, Jane and she would have to act together to repair them.

Jane entered the room and moved quickly to Amelia’s side. “Let me look.” Amelia stepped aside, and Jane carefully removed the doctor’s bandage, now soaked with blood. She wiped the blood from the wound and examined the stitches.

“Did he pull them out?”

“Not quite.” Jane reached out a hand, and Amelia placed another bandage in it. “How did this happen? When I left he was quiet.”

“Ask your friend Richard,” Amelia said bitterly. “Another of his outbursts. This time he wanted Gideon’s little iron ball. The one he fiddles with when he is nervous. Gideon fought him for it.”

Jane was busy wrapping Gideon’s wound and did not look up. “Who won?” she asked.

“I did.” Amelia gave her a brief smile. “I snatched it away from Sir Richard.”

“Clever Amelia. I should have guessed.” Jane finished and turned to her friend. “Someone should stay with him tonight Not you,” she added. “You are exhausted, and no wonder.” She hesitated a moment. “Would you object if Richard and I took turns?”

Amelia stared at her in shock. “Of course I would object I forbid it! I would as soon have Eustace remain on watch alone than that madman. What has happened to you, Jane? You were always so calm and rational. Yet you know how your friend Richard treats Gideon, and you still calmly suggest that he remain in this room alone with him?”

“I am sure there is some explanation for Richard’s behavior.” Jane’s mouth was set in a stubborn line.

“Oh, I have no doubt. He is quite mad, that is the explanation!” Amelia crossed her hands across her chest and glared at Jane with equal stubbornness. “And I will remain with Gideon tonight. All night,” she added defiantly.

“Well, at least have a bath and get into the warmest clothes you can find. Then, if you want to take the first watch, I won’t object”

“Very well. I will return in half an hour. Please do not leave the room.”

“I will be here.” Jane drew a small upholstered chair up to the bed and sat down.

Amelia went to her bedchamber and rang for a bath. Jane’s suggestion had been most welcome. She had been going all day on nervous energy, but her reserves were almost depleted. The kidnapping and escape and subsequent adventures had left her more exhausted than she had ever been in her fife. Now she looked around the familiar room she had occupied from the moment she was old enough to leave the night nursery, and smiled. From the white coverlet on the four-poster bed to the flowered chintz covering the small slipper chair and the windows, everything spoke of a time when she had been sheltered, protected, loved. A time when her world was bounded by her father and Gideon. Her eyes filled when she contemplated the changes her father’s death had wrought in her life.

“Papa,” she whispered, “I need you. I’m not sure I can do what needs to be done by myself.”

Resolutely she told herself that her father would expect more of her than to lapse into weakness and self-pity. She dashed the tears from her eyes and summoned up her reserves of courage and strength. Gideon needed her.

When the tin slipper tub had been set before the fire in her room and footmen had come and gone with their cans of steaming water, Amelia undressed and sank into the tub. She had refused the services of one of the housemaids as a temporary abigail. At her stage of fatigue, solitude was balm to her battered spirit. Slowly she relaxed. The warmth of the water and the flickering of the fire sent her into a state that lay somewhere between waking and sleeping.

Gideon. Always her thoughts returned to him. Something teased at her brain. Something he had said. Something she had thought For a few minutes she chased the elusive idea around her mind, but to no avail. Yawning, she reached for the soap.

Clean and warm and dry—and safe. Amelia tied the sash of the warm woolen dress she had found in her closet and luxuriated for a few moments in those mundane blessings. Blessings she had wondered if she would ever see again. The terror she had felt at many points during the day and night she had been held captive came back in retrospect. Perhaps, she thought as she made her way down the hall to the room where Gideon lay, she could afford to feel those emotions now that their cause had been vanquished. She had held terror at bay, never fully surrendering to it while the events that caused it had been going on. Now that she was safe, she found herself shaking with reaction.