The Anatomist's Wife (32 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

A
t a quarter of an hour before dawn, the upper corridors were cold and deserted by
all but the mice. Not even the chambermaids had yet ventured into the family rooms
to stoke up the fires, or at least they hadn’t in my chamber, but I didn’t normally
rise at such an ungodly hour. I shouldn’t have had to do so this morning.

Closing my door softly, I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders and set off
down the long, shadowed hall. The hush of night rang in my ears, as yet unwilling
to give over to the day. Two short days ago, I would have been frightened to travel
down this corridor alone at night, fearful of what might lay in wait for me in the
darkness. With Lord Stratford’s death, the castle’s solemn passageways had lost their
terror. Their stones seemed to cast off the gloom as they had cast off the guests,
and returned to their melancholy sentry of ages. I trailed my fingers over the cold
granite, grateful to have my atmospheric sanctuary back.

Turning the corner at the grand staircase, I could see through the windowpanes the
pink and yellow streaks of light on the horizon presaging the sun. I blew out my candle
and set it on the ledge, worried that the shaking of my hands would be too noticeable
if I carried it with me. Turning toward the stairs, I made to descend the first step,
but then hesitated with my foot at the edge of the riser.

For a moment, I considered turning back, returning to the warmth and comfort of my
bed, and allowing Gage to skulk off into the misty light of daybreak as he wished.
It wasn’t as if I couldn’t use the rest. I had tossed and turned most of the night,
sore and uncomfortable because, as Alana predicted, I had overexerted myself the day
before. Not that I would admit such a thing to her, even on pain of dismemberment.
There were some things I just did not confess to my sister, and acknowledging that
she was right in such a dispute was one of them.

Besides, my wound’s tenderness had really only been a small part of my unease. More
disturbing had been the loss and hurt I felt upon hearing that Gage was leaving in
the morning, summoned to Edinburgh by his father on some matter of business. According
to the gossip Lucy relayed, he intended to set off at dawn. And as the hours of the
evening crept slowly by without a knock at my door, it had become distressingly apparent
that Gage intended to set off on his journey without addressing the issues between
us, without even saying good-bye.

I had been wrestling with my feelings for Gage since the day Sir Graham interviewed
me, uncertain what they meant and whether I welcomed them. There were simply too many
unresolved questions between us, too many things left unsaid. And though I was no
closer to knowing what, exactly, I wanted to say to him when we did speak, I had always
believed that there would be a time when we did, whether or not I was prepared for
it. Apparently, Gage was more of the inclination that it was better to leave things
left unsaid.

It depressed and bewildered me. It tied my stomach up in knots. And it made the blood
boil in my veins.

What right did
he
have to decide for the both of us that we would not speak?
He
was the one who had belittled and dismissed my concerns over Lady Stratford’s guilt.
I didn’t care whether he was embarrassed by that now, or chagrined by his shortsightedness.
Whether he’d saved my life or not, he owed me an apology and an explanation, because
I did not believe for one second that he was normally so obtuse when it came to his
investigations. He was too intelligent, too skilled, to make such an amateur mistake.
Maybe it was painful for him to contemplate his error, maybe he regretted it deeply,
but for him to skulk off into the dawn without so much as a by-your-leave was cowardly.
And of all the faults I could lay at Gage’s feet, I had never thought cowardice would
be one of them.

But now that I stood poised at the moment of confrontation, I felt my own daring slipping
through my clenched fingers. What if I was wrong? What if Gage didn’t care one whit
for me and his leaving did not pain him in the least? What if it was not cowardice
that kept him from coming to me, but indifference?

I was not familiar with the workings of the heart, especially when it came to romantic
entanglements. I had no experience with them, and had never thought to, until Gage
disrupted my world with his dashing good looks and charming smile. With his arrogant
manners and obstinate determination to have his way. With his willingness to believe
in my innocence despite the discovery of the bloody apron in my studio and the words
of all my naysayers. Until Gage had held me while I cried and rejoiced to see me smile,
I had never known any of the tender emotions swirling about my chest, or experienced
the hollow ache his leaving left behind. I wasn’t certain I could handle it if I saw
only apathy in his eyes as he quit Gairloch, and me.

Breathing past the sharp pain in my chest, I forced my foot over the rasping carpet
runner and down onto the first step. There was only one way I was going to find the
answers to my questions, and that was by confronting Gage. I just didn’t understand
why this impending confrontation seemed to cause me so much more dread than the interrogations
I had faced with the suspects during our murder investigation.

The stairs creaked under my weight and the banister felt icy cold under the tight
grip of my fingers. I shivered as I neared the great hall, the cold morning air tickling
over my skin and creeping under my skirts as it spilled through the corridors. When
I crossed the threshold to the entry hall, I could see Gage standing before the outer
door, deep in conference with Philip. The sight of Gage’s golden hair limned by the
predawn light made the breath catch in my chest and my pulse pound hard. I had not
forgotten he was attractive, but somehow the knowledge that I might never see him
again made his face seem all the more beautiful.

I knew I was being fanciful. I would see him again. Likely across a crowded ballroom,
as he danced and flirted with other women more suited to his standing, scarcely noting
my existence. After all, he was a charming, lovable rakehell with a budding career,
whose attendance was sought after at all the most exclusive events, and I was a quiet,
eccentric artist on the fringe of society, often feared and berated, and barely tolerated.
We were two completely different people living two completely separate lives. That
our paths had ever crossed in such a meaningful way at all was the true mystery.

Arms crossed over his chest, Gage shifted to allow a servant to pass carrying one
of his belongings out to the waiting carriage. His gaze lifted to me and he stiffened.
Such a reaction in no way comforted me, though it did a great deal to convince me
that he was far from indifferent. Whether his apparent concern meant something good
or bad, I could not tell.

I hovered back as Philip finished whatever he was saying to Gage and then shook his
hand. Philip paused to lay a hand on my shoulder as he passed by, offering me a cryptic
smile. I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to encourage me or offer his sympathy.
I gritted my teeth against the surge of embarrassment that it might be the latter.
Then, before I could say anything, he slipped away, leaving me alone with Gage.

His posture stiff and unwelcoming, Gage stared out at the mist-shrouded courtyard,
watching as his carriage was readied for his departure. If not for the sudden tightening
of his coat across his shoulders, I would have believed he was ignoring me, but I
knew he was aware of each and every step I took in his direction. Nerves tightened
my stomach, and for once I was grateful for his stubborn pride, for I wasn’t certain
I could have crossed the space between us if he had turned to watch. I was using the
anger and hurt I felt at his displeasure in seeing me to spur me onward.

The sound of my skirts whispering over the flagstone floor was broken only by the
jangling of the horses’ harnesses as the beasts stamped and pawed at the muddy drive
outside, clearly as eager to be away as their passenger was. As I neared, I could
see that the luggage was loaded, the driver in place, all that was left was for Gage
to climb inside and be whisked away, gone from my life, perhaps forever. The realization
twisted like a knife in my chest.

My steps faltered and I stumbled to a stop behind him. The chill of the dawn air seemed
to seep through my bones, and I wrapped my shawl and my arms tighter around me, suddenly
certain that the thin material and the grip of my hands around my upper arms was all
that was holding me together. A ragged breath escaped through my lips, and I willed
my limbs to move, to take me forward or backward, anything but to stand here and stare
at Gage’s back knowing I was as much a silly fool for this man as all those women
I had berated.

I knew not what expression was on my face, but I feared that everything was written
there, every hidden emotion shining in my eyes. And when Gage turned to me, I could
not wipe them clean. All I could do was stand there dumbly, staring at the contradiction
he posed. His deportment remained aloof, but the regret and uncertainty shimmering
in his eyes, and the warmth of his gaze as it trailed over my features, told me he
was not as unaffected as he wished me to believe. His entire bearing was tightly restrained,
even the rasp of his voice as he spoke, as if he was afraid of what he might do if
he did not maintain control over himself.

“I’m leaving for Edinburgh.”

“I know.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “My father asked me to look into a dispute there.”

I swallowed and whispered, “I know.”

Silence fell between us, charged with the words neither of us seemed to be able to
say. I knew I should admonish him, that I should demand answers, but none of it seemed
to matter anymore. Not if he was going to walk away without looking back.

He inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it tightly with a frown.
However, either the silence or my muteness seemed to be too much for him, for he forced
the words out. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his words.

“I know it may be difficult to believe, but I did not do so lightly.” He scowled,
and I could tell the displeasure was directed at himself not me. “I do not normally
ignore legitimate concerns.”

“Why did you?” I asked, more interested in hearing his reasoning behind dismissing
my uncertainties over Lady Stratford’s guilt than hearing his apology for doing so.

His lips compressed and he stared down at his polished Hessians. “I assure you, my
motivation for doing so was not out of pride or malice.”

Now it was my turn to frown. “But you won’t tell me what it was?”

His gaze lifted to meet mine, and a shadow seemed to pass over his eyes. “No.”

I wanted to argue with him, to flay him with guilt, utilize whatever tactic might
force him to talk. But I could tell by his troubled gaze and his locked jaw that nothing
would induce him to do so. Whatever his motivation had been, it had clearly been personal,
and he was not ready to part with it, no matter the method employed.

“Well, can you at least explain to me what you were doing three days ago?” I snapped.
“You rode off with Mr. Fulmer before I had a chance to question him, which I assume
was your intention in asking him to accompany you in the first place.” His eyes shifted
guiltily. “And whatever happened to the footman you were pursuing? Did you find him?”

He nodded. “Holed up in a farmer’s barn at the edge of the village with his sweetheart.”
His brow lowered. “It took nearly the entire day to find the scoundrel.”

I arched an eyebrow in irritation. “And?”

“Our errant footman got the lass with child.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Apparently, when he heard from the other servants how Lady Godwin’s killer took the
baby from her body and buried it in the woods, he panicked. Somehow, he decided the
killer was after all expectant mothers and might attack his lover and child next.”

“Oh, my,” I murmured, imagining the footman having to tell Gage all of this while
under duress. The poor man had already been terrified, and I couldn’t imagine Gage
had gone easy on him during questioning. “Is he all right?”

“I should say so,” he replied indignantly, clearly reading the bent of my thoughts.
“Cromarty is going to let him keep his position, even though the man behaved dishonorably
and abandoned his post without warning. Provided, of course, that he marries this
girl from the village. Rather a light punishment.”

“So you didn’t eat dinner at Squire Renshaw’s?” I asked, and immediately wished I
could recall the words. A flush rose in my cheeks.

“No.” He studied me closely. “Is that where you thought I was?”

“Well,” I hedged, not wanting him to realize the real motivation behind my question.
“When you took so long to return, I just assumed that you had taken shelter somewhere
from the rain. Mr. Renshaw’s home seemed the obvious choice.”

Gage shifted a step closer to me, a smile lurking at the corners of this mouth. “I
see. And Squire Renshaw’s daughters had nothing to do with your concern over such
a thing?”

I lifted my chin, fighting the fiery blush burning its way up into my cheeks. “Of
course not.”

His eyes sparkled. “Well, regardless, I will tell you that when we were introduced,
I found them to be flighty and without charm.”

I tried not to feel pleased by such a pronouncement, but I could not stop the surge
of satisfaction warming my chest. “Really? Most of the gentlemen in the region seem
to find them quite appealing.”

He took another step closer to me, forcing me to look up to continue meeting his gaze.
“Then most of the gentlemen in this region must be dunces.”

He was close enough now that I could see the silver flecks in his pale blue eyes,
and watch as the widening of his pupils swallowed them. I inhaled sharply, trying
to clear the swirling in my head, but the spicy scent of his now-familiar cologne
only made it worse. My gaze dropped to his lips and I swallowed, wanting him to kiss
me, wanting to know if my memory of his warm mouth caressing mine as we floated in
the icy water of the loch was really true.