Susan Carroll (37 page)

"What do you want?" a brusque feminine voice
inquired. Gilly flashed his most ingratiating smile, but Phaedra
doubted the woman could see much of it in the growing darkness. "We
wish to see the doctor, my good woman."

The oak barrier shifted enough to permit a
hand to emerge holding an oil lamp. The woman directed the glow
toward them. Phaedra flung back her hood and shifted her cloak so
that the woman might better remark the quality of her garments and
be assured she and Gilly were not some wandering vagrants.

The woman asked, "The young lady is ill,
then?"

Aye, Phaedra nearly assented, but her
sickness was of the heart, well past any doctor's curing. She kept
silent, leaving it to Gilly to reply.

"No, neither of us requires medical services.
It is a matter of some personal interest we wish to consult the
doctor upon."

"I'm sorry. Dr. Glencoe doesnt receive
callers-not at this hour. He retires early because his sleep is far
too oft disturbed. Good evening to you."

With that the woman prepared to shut the
door, but Gilly's arm shot forward, blocking the movement. "Wait.
Please. I am sure he will see us. Just show him these."

Before Phaedra could protest, Gilly had
shoved the parcel containing the precious figurines through the
narrow opening. There was a pause, then the crackling of paper told
her that the woman had seized the package.

The door slammed shut.

"Gilly ..." Phaedra began, uneasily.

"She'll be back."

Phaedra was not sure she shared her cousin's
confidence. Long moments passed, leaving her to shift wearily from
foot to foot. She was about to instruct Gilly to knock again, when
the door swung open wide.

The gray-haired individual bobbed her lace
cap. The wariness in her eyes had been replaced by curiosity. But
all she said was, "Come this way."

Gilly was forced to duck his head as they
passed through the doorway. The woman led them through a chamber
which was obviously where the doctor operated on his patients.
Phaedra averted her eyes from the collection of sharp surgical
implements laid out in orderly fashion upon an oak table.

The woman flung open the door to a tiny
parlor, indicating with a jerk of her head that they should step
inside.

"Doctor will be with you directly." With an
abruptness that seemed quite natural for her, she left them
alone.

Huddling close to Gilly, Phaedra glanced
about her. The parlor once might have been bright and cozy, but now
everything about the room spoke of faded memory, like flowers,
brittle with age, pressed between the leaves of a book. The velvet
settee shone bare in some spots, and the matte of the carpet was
worn. The veneer on the mahogany sideboard and cabinet was no
longer glossy, but dull and scarred.

Shut behind the cabinet's glass doors,
Phaedra glimpsed rows and rows of leather volumes. She stepped
closer to scan the titles. Intermingled with heavy tomes of
medicine and science, the more slender books of novels and poems
appeared almost dwarfed. When she saw Gulliver's Travels amongst
them, her breath caught in her throat. Her heart aching, she
wondered if it was here then, in the house of this old friend, that
Armande had first begun his own "voyage on the sea of dreams." She
lowered her eyes, feeling like an intruder trampling into regions
of Armande's heart where she had not been invited to enter.

She felt Gilly tap her shoulder, silently
directing her attention to the lower shelf of the cabinet. Somehow
it did not astonish her to see the shelf crammed with china.
Whimsical medieval chessmen of black basalt jostled for space with
vases sporting frolicking cherubs and lambs. So different from the
shepherd and shepherdess, yet Phaedra could still detect the
delicate artistry of Julianna Lethington. All but hidden behind the
chess pieces were other oval disks of china with profiles painted
upon them.

She froze, realizing what they were in the
same moment that Gilly muttered, "Miniature portraits. That might
be exactly what we're looking for."

"No. Don't," she said as he hunkered down,
preparing to reach inside the cabinet. She feared at any moment he
would draw forth a likeness of Armande, the undeniable proof of his
identity as Jason Lethington.

But before he could do so, the parlor door
opened behind them. Gilly straightened abruptly, both of them
whirling at the same time to face the old man shuffling into the
room, a chintz dressing gown swathed about his spare frame, his
feet clad in blue morocco mules. The skin over his cheekbones was
parchment-thin, and his cheeks were sunken and hollow. Indeed, the
man appeared more in need of a physician than likely to be one
himself. And yet his face bore marks of a gentle dignity.

"Dr. Adam Glencoe'?" Gilly asked
hesitantly.

The doctor nodded, the porcelain shepherd and
shepherdess clutched in his gaunt hands. He regarded Phaedra and
her cousin as though they were resurrection men, bringing him a
corpse fresh from a violated grave.

"You have the advantage of me, sir," the
doctor said, the faintest trace of a Scottish burr in his voice. "I
don't wish to give offense. But if I have ever met you or this
young lady, my memory-"

"No, sir," Gilly interrupted hastily. "Permit
me to introduce myself. Patrick Gilhooley Fitzhurst at your
service, and this-this is my sister Phaedra Fitzhurst. "

Although surprised by Gilly's words, Phaedra
was quick to conceal her startled expression, realizing her
cousin's reason for the lie. The name of Grantham would not be a
welcome one to any friend of the Lethington family.

The doctor could scarce have looked less
welcoming than he did at this moment. He invited them to be seated,
although he made no move to do so himself. She and Gilly perched
uncomfortably on the edge of the threadbare settee.

Gilly cleared his throat. "'Tis that sorry we
are to be intruding upon your rest, Doctor. But we drove all the
way out from the city to ask you a question regarding those
figurines."

At the mention of the statues, Dr. Glencoe
set both the shepherd and shepherdess down upon the tea table with
great care, almost as though loath to release them.

"Aye, the figurines," he repeated. "Might I
ask you first how you came by them?"

Before beginning to speak, Gilly shot Phaedra
a sidewise glance as though warning her not to contradict him. "Our
grandda is a magistrate. Recently he tried the case of a thief who
had been hoarding a great deal of stolen merchandise. Most of it
was of little value, but these pieces of china were so exquisite,
we wanted to see them restored to their rightful owners. My sister
made inquiries amongst the china merchants; where she was told the
artist had been Julianna Lethington."

Here Gilly paused to give Phaedra's hand a
squeeze. "Being the tenderhearted soul that she is, my sister was
much moved by the tale of the tragic deaths of Julianna and her
brother James, and wanted to return the figurines to some member of
the Lethington family."

The full weight of the doctor's scrutiny now
fell upon Phaedra. She blushed, made uncomfortable by Gilly's
deception. But the old man seemed to read something in her eyes
which caused his own expression to soften.

"We were told," Gilly continued, "that you
were an intimate friend of the Lethingtons-"

"Aye, so I was," the doctor interrupted.
"Maida-that is, Mrs. Lethington, and her children visited me often
enough they might well have been my own family."

"Then surely you could tell us where we could
locate-"

Dr. Glencoe shook his head, cutting Gilly off
again. "I am afraid that is impossible." He sighed and looked at
Phaedra. She noticed that his eyes were a deep brown and rather
kindly, although the age-carved lines in the flesh beneath made him
look very tired.

"It is a most generous impulse on your part,
Miss Fitzhurst," he said. "But I fear there are no more Lethingtons
to receive your gift."

"But-but," Phaedra said, speaking up for the
first time since entering the cottage. "I understood that the
mother, and the younger brother, Jason, yet lived."

"Aye, I pray that the lad does still live,
but not in these parts. He and Maida set sail for Canada many years
ago." The doctor bowed his head for a moment, shading his eyes with
his hand. “I’ve heard only once from the boy. He wrote to inform me
that his mother had not survived the crossing."

It was obvious that their questions were
stirring long-buried griefs inside the old man, and Phaedra hated
doing so. She exchanged a wretched glance with Gilly and sensed he
was thinking the same thing. But Canada had been the destination of
the real Armande de LeCroix, a fact far too strange to be merely
coincidence.

"And Jason never wrote you again?" Gilly
asked the doctor.

"No, nary another word."

"Sure and that's too bad," Gilly said. "I
fear my sister will be disappointed, having worked out all sorts of
romantic imaginings. We had heard naught but praise of how handsome
this Jason is." He added with seeming casualness, "Dark hair and
striking blue eyes, isn't that what they said, Phaedra?"

Phaedra nodded, realizing what Gilly was
hinting at. She prayed that the doctor would tell her that Jason
was short and blond, but her hopes were dashed when he confirmed,
"All the Lethingtons were dark-haired. Though I would have to say
Jason was not as handsome as our poor Jamey was."

The old man seemed to unbend completely. He
sank down in an armchair opposite them, his eyes misting over as he
stared at the figurines. "I daresay you think me a doddering old
fool to hear me talk as though they had been my own sons. But for a
brief time after their father died, they might have been."

"You helped Maida Lethington look after her
fatherless little ones, did you?" Gilly asked.

A wry smile tipped the doctor's lips.
"Fatherless mayhap, but scarcely little. When Daniel Lethington was
carried off by the fever, James was grown to manhood, and Jason
nearly so. And Miss Julianna, she was nigh a lady. But Daniel asked
me on his deathbed, as his oldest friend, to look out for his
family- especially James, who was a bit much for his mother."

The doctor's shoulders sagged. "He was a
restless young man, of such dark moods and with such a quick
temper. I never understood him. I very much fear that Jason was my
favorite. He was a quiet lad who shared my own fondness for
books.

"James was ever hankering after adventure,
longing to set sail upon the first ship that came to port." The
doctor shook his head, as though still mystified by James's
vagaries after all these years. "He never was content to be working
at the china shop. Daniel finally gave up trying to make a merchant
of him and sent the boy up to Oxford."

"Oxford?" Gilly echoed. "That's a bit unusual
for a chinamaker's son."

Glencoe shrugged. "Oh, Daniel had the money.
And the lad was certainly clever enough."

Phaedra stirred restlessly in her seat,
recalling Lord Arthur Danby's drunken insistence that he remembered
Armande from their university days. Reluctantly, she asked, "And
Jason- did his father send him there, too?"

"No, but he frequently visited his brother."
Dr. Glencoe's cheeks puffed with indignation. "I never approved.
Oxford is the perfect place for young men to learn the finer points
of drinking, gaming, and wenching. James was already wild enough. I
didn't like the notion of young Jason being dragged into bad
company the likes of Arthur Danby and Lord Ewan Grantham."

Phaedra faltered. "Then-then that's how
Ewan-I mean Lord Grantham became acquainted with Julianna. Through
her brothers.”

"No, at least not then. That unfortunate
introduction came later, after their father was dead." Glencoe's
eyes darkened at the memory. "James was forced to take on the
responsibility of the shop and as head of the family. A very poor
job he made of it, too. I frequently tried to warn Maida that the
lad was not suited to such duties, but she looked upon James with
all a mother's indulgence and saw none of his faults."

The elderly doctor relented somewhat, saying
grudgingly, "I suppose James tried, but he had no head for
business, and the shop began to fail. He was trying to collect on
some bad debts when his path crossed with Grantham's again."

"Then James thought to clap up a match
between his old friend and his sister, did he?" Gilly filled in. He
had been squirming for some time, clearly growing impatient for the
doctor to reach the significant part of the story.

But Glencoe looked deeply offended by Gilly's
suggestion. "No, indeed. James had more regard for his sister than
to wish to see her wed to a rascally jackanapes like Lord Ewan. And
if you add to that the fact that Ewan's father, Lord Carleton, was
the most depraved creature living, I believe James would have
locked his sister up before seeing her marry into such a
family."

"But I had heard Julianna and Lord Ewan were
in love," Phaedra said.

"Love." The doctor snorted. "Infatuation more
like-a most tragic infatuation as matters went. For you see,
Carleton Grantham was also against the match and he-"

The doctor broke off, a quiver of pain
running along his withered jaw. A murmur of pity rose to Phaedra's
lips. She was about to assure the old man he needn't say any more,
when he continued, the memory seeming fairly wrung from him.

"When Carleton found out that Ewan and
Julianna were planning to elope, the black-hearted devil abducted
and ravished her."

"Abducted!" Gilly exclaimed. His gaze
traveled wonderingly to meet Phaedra's. This was far different from
Hester Searle's version of the story.

"Why was Carleton never arrested?" Phaedra
protested.

Glencoe's eyes clouded. "No one ever had a
chance, for James got to him first. That temper of his! Not that I
fully blamed James for what he had done. But even at his own trial,
when he might yet have saved himself, he ranted like a madman,
saying there had been a conspiracy to murder his sister. James was
accusing everyone, Carleton Grantham, the son Ewan, some other
prominent man named Weylin. Poor James was clearly out of his
head."