The Music Box (27 page)

“Oh … Maiden!” Gaby exclaimed, her mind flooded with fond memories. “She was my absolute favorite, all long-limbed and gangly, but with a hint of grace and a wealth of energy. Papa put me on her back when I was two—probably just so I’d stop nagging him to do so.”

Thane shot Gaby a grin. “Well, Maiden’s awkward youthful phase is over. Like you, she’s grown to adulthood. Her gangly limbs are now swift and strong, her grace fully developed. Her energy level remains unchanged, though. She’s now a thoroughly spirited mare who races like the wind. I guarantee she’ll tire you out. However, if your eyelids have yet to droop after your ride and your stroll, the staff has organized a late afternoon game of croquet, to be followed by a much needed tea party in the garden.” A chuckle. “You’ll probably sleep through the entire carriage ride home, and certainly throughout the night.”

Gaby’s throat tightened with gratitude. “It sounds wonderful,” she managed. “I can hardly wait.”

“Good. Then let’s not delay Mrs. Fife’s banquet.”

Lunch was all Thane had promised and more. Served by a half dozen familiar faces and overseen by Mrs. Fife herself, the meal consisted of roast mutton with browned potatoes and carrots—which Gaby instantly recognized as her most clamored-for meal as a child—followed by apple pastries, her all-time favorite. Biting into one of the warm confections, she smiled to herself, recalling how many times she’d wandered into the kitchen and tugged on Mrs. Fife’s skirts to get her attention, and all for the purpose of receiving the first pastry hot from the oven.

She’d usually accomplished her goal.

Gaby’s memories warmed still further during the stroll Mrs. Darcey had arranged. Accompanied by the housekeeper herself—and several younger maids who took over when Mrs. Darcey’s strength ran out— Gaby walked the grounds of Whitshire, encountering one delightful reminder after another. Each stopping point triggered another filament of recall: The massive rock at the edge of the woods, the thick cluster of trees, the grassy hollow alongside the stream—they all brought to mind a curious little girl who’d been discovering new and interesting places to explore.

Then came the highlight of the afternoon: her reunion with Maiden.

The mare was as splendid as Gaby remembered, maturity having only enhanced her beauty and spirit. Having been led by a groom to Whitshire’s course—clearly to avoid Gaby’s having to visit the stables and nearby servants’ quarters—the magnificent mare was saddled and ready to be mounted, tossing her golden brown head and eyeing Gaby as she approached.

Gaby paused beside her, stroking her mane and her silky muzzle. The way her ears perked up when Gaby said her name made it clear that Maiden remembered her.

“Is that really you, Gaby?” The groom, who had stood silently by during this reunion, now spoke up, sounding—and looking—utterly amazed as he uttered his question.

Shifting her attention, Gaby studied the man’s face, her eyes narrowed quizzically as she tried to place him. He was in his late twenties, she should say, with a ruddy complexion and a ready smile. Something about him was familiar, but she just couldn’t place it.

Noting Gaby’s puzzlement, the man grinned, and the twinkle that lit his dark eyes brought his identity back in a rush.

“Thomas?” she gasped, trying to liken the fifteen-year-old stable boy who’d fed and watered the horses to the muscular man now gazing back at her with amused disbelief. “Is that you?”

“I’m easier to recognize than you are,” he retorted, politely trying not to stare. “When His Grace said you’d be visiting, I assumed you’d look different than I remembered—taller, older. After all, I haven’t seen you since you were five. But I didn’t expect a fully grown, beautiful …” He broke off, flushing as he realized he’d overstepped his bounds. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve always pictured you the way you were: the little imp who was forever underfoot when your father was trying to get his work done.” A rueful sigh. “It certainly makes me feel old.”

A smile touched Gaby’s lips. “We’ve all changed, Thomas. Not old, just older.”

Thomas nodded, the toe of his boot scraping the dirt. “Denning would be real proud of you. You’ve got his way with horses. You also look a whole lot like your mother.” His head came up, and he watched her, his expression distinctly uncomfortable. “I hope I didn’t upset you by saying that.”

“Not at all,” Gaby assured him, feeling choked, but in a profound and tender way rather than a pained one. “In fact, I can’t think of a lovelier compliment.”

Nodding again, Thomas shifted awkwardly, gesturing toward Maiden. “Can I help you up?”

“Yes, thanks.” Gaby moved to Maiden’s left side, accepting Thomas’s assistance and easing into the sidesaddle. “Is it all right if I take her over the course alone?”

“Yeah, I guess it can’t hurt, given you’re not riding astride. You can’t let Maiden take control. If she thinks she’s boss, she’ll take off like a bullet. Before you know it, you’ll be sailing over her head and landing on your—” He cleared his throat. “You know what I mean.”

“Indeed I do.” Gaby bit back her laughter, giving Maiden an affectionate pat. “Thank you, Thomas. I promise not to become overzealous.”

Sidesaddle or not, the ride was exquisite, a ballet without music. Gaby guided Maiden across the grounds, taking in the familiar sights that mere strolling had circumvented: the manicured length of the course, the twists and turns she remembered so vividly, having followed her father countless times as he cooled down the horses for the day.

The recollection brought with it a reassuring sense of peace, solace rather than pain.

She missed her parents still, but they were alive in a cherished place inside her heart.

Perhaps Dr. Briers had been right. Perhaps this visit was precisely what she’d needed.

By the time Gaby had restored Maiden to Thomas’s side, she felt wonderfully renewed. Waving as horse and groom headed off to the stables, she had scarcely caught her breath when Mrs. Darcey reappeared to escort her to a rousing game of croquet on the front lawn.

At the game’s conclusion, Gaby sank gratefully into a garden chair, just as Thane had predicted. She was exhausted, probably more from the emotional intensity that had accompanied her to Whitshire than from actual physical exertion. Nevertheless, she was content to settle herself among the flowers, inhaling the late afternoon fragrances and sipping tea with family and friends. Thane had kindly and insightfully invited Mrs. Darcey, Mrs. Fife, and Averley to join him, Gaby, and Hermione for refreshment, knowing that Gaby’s childhood meals had been taken with the staff, not the family.

“These scones are delicious,” Gaby proclaimed, taking a bite. “And the afternoon was perfect—just what I needed.” Her gaze swept everyone around her. “Thank you. Thank you all. You’ve helped bring back so many happy memories—memories I’d lost sight of.”

“We’re glad,” Mrs. Darcey replied earnestly, “because you gave us joyful memories as well. You were a bright spot in our lives, Gaby.”

“Unruly and unmanageable,” Mrs. Fife qualified with gruff affection, “but a bright spot nonetheless.”

Gaby’s lips curved. “I did cause a great deal of trouble, didn’t I?”

“Indeed you did,” Averley confirmed. “I can’t recall how many search parties were organized to find you.”

Thane grinned over the rim of his cup. “I wish I’d been here to see these amazing antics. In contrast, my life at Oxford seems dull and uneventful.”

“Uneventfulness can sometimes be a blessing,” Gaby returned quietly, more introspective than despondent. “That’s something I’ve learned since childhood.”

“More tea. Gaby … pardon me, Miss Gaby?” Couling inquired, appearing at her side.

“Yes, thank you, Couling.” She held out her cup, nodding her appreciation as he refilled it. “I suppose that discovery is a natural result of growing up,” she continued, staring at her saucer but not really seeing it. “We learn that consistency, being safe and loved, is far more inspiring than any unknown adventure. Or perhaps we discover that fact only when—
if
—our foundation is torn away and we’re lucky enough to find someone who helps us build a new one.”

Silence hung heavy in the air.

With a guilty start, Gaby snapped back to reality, feeling a wave of remorse as she noted all the concerned expressions surrounding her. “Forgive me,” she murmured. Inhaling sharply, she berated herself for sounding so dismal. “I didn’t mean to go on like that.”

“Don’t apologize.” Aunt Hermione rushed to her defense instantly. “Every word you just said was true. We are all fortunate, each of us who’s lucky enough to love and be loved. We must never forget to count our blessings. And you, Gaby, are an incomparable one of those blessings—to me and to all who know you.” She reached out, took Gaby’s hand in hers.

“As are you,” Gaby whispered, her fingers tightening around her aunt’s.

“On that note I think we should return to Nevon Manor,” Hermione announced, as if some sixth sense had advised her of such. “It’s getting late, and Chaunce will worry if dusk arrives without us.”

Dusk? Gaby’s head came up, and everything inside her tightened as she assessed the first wisps of shadows that danced across Whitshire’s lawns.

“Chaunce’s worry notwithstanding,” Aunt Hermione went on, unaware of Gaby’s surge of dread, “we have you to consider, Thane. We’ve kept you the entire afternoon. You must have a hundred business matters to attend to.”

“Not at all,” Thane countered. “Actually, other than some correspondence I need to address, I’m free until morning. At which time I do have an appointment—right after breakfast, in fact.” He inclined his head in Hermione’s direction. “That appointment, incidentally, is with William Delmore of Delmore and Banks.”

“The soliciting firm?”

“One and the same.”

“You sound surprised. Is it unusual for you to do business with them?”

“Not especially.” Thane shrugged. “However, this time I haven’t a clue what this business pertains to. According to the initial correspondence I received from Delmore, he and Father were in the midst of a business transaction at the time of Father’s death. As a result, my signature is required on some final papers. What that transaction was, I haven’t a notion. I suppose I’ll have to temper my curiosity until tomorrow. In any case”—Thane changed the subject, waving away the preliminary issue—“I brought it up because when I wrote back to Delmore, agreeing to see him at Whitshire, I mentioned that I’d had occasion to meet and conduct business with a colleague.”

Aunt Hermione leaned forward, her eyes glinting with interest. “Bryce?”

A grin. “Bryce. Delmore’s response was enthusiastic. In his confirming note he praised Bryce effusively, both his legal skills and his character.”

“I’m not surprised,” Hermione declared, pride lacing her tone. “Pleased, but not surprised.” Her gaze met Thane’s. “Thank you for telling me.”

With a meaningful look only Gaby and Hermione could understand, Thane replied, “Thank
you
for introducing us. Bryce is indeed an exceptional man.”

“Yes, he is,” Gaby agreed, struggling to avert her gaze from the setting sun. “I—that is, everyone at Nevon Manor misses him a great deal.”

“He’ll be back soon,” Hermione said with the utmost confidence. “Of that I’m certain.” With that, she rose. “Come, Gaby, let’s start for home.”

Thane helped his aunt to her feet while Averley walked around to assist Gaby. “Your day was enjoyable, then?” he asked her politely.

“Yes. Very. You’ve all been wonderful.”

“I hope we accomplished our goal,” Averley added. “As of now I pray all your ghosts have been laid to rest.”

“As do I.” She gathered up her skirts and drew an unsteady breath, inhaling the cool scents of dusk.

The constriction in her chest intensified.

Would nighttime at Whitshire always affect her so badly? she wondered, fighting off the panic that threatened to obliterate the day’s pleasure.

“Is something wrong?” Evidently Averley perceived her tension, and he gripped her elbow as if to offer her support.

“No. I’m just tired. And it’s getting late …” She broke off, knowing she couldn’t begin to explain her increasing dread.

“I’ll see that your carriage is brought around at once.” It was Couling who spoke, and Gaby looked up in time to see him studying her intently.

“Thank you, Couling. I’d appreciate that.”

Ten minutes later, amid a flurry of good-byes, Hermione and a much relieved Gaby climbed into the carriage and were on their way.

A lone figure watched their carriage disappear around the drive. Brow dotted with sweat, the observer retreated into the safety of the trees, mind racing.

Dammit, I didn’t learn a bloody thing except that, whatever the hell the brat remembers, it’s still inside her head. Even after this whole day, it’s still there. But what is it? It can’t be insignificant. If it were just memories of the fire, today would have helped. But it didn’t. So what’s provoking this sleepwalking I’m first hearing about
—
sleepwalking that apparently started after her last visit here? What is she remembering? Why now? And why is she still drawn to that bloody music box tune?

Stop it
, came the silent command.
Gabrielle Denning is secondary
—
at least for now. I’ve got a more pressing problem: Delmore. He’s coming here, to Whitshire. Why? What does he want?

A bitter laugh.
That’s a stupid question. There’s only one reason he’d be coming to see the new duke. Well, that meeting can’t take place. I can’t allow it. Everything would blow up in my face. I’ve got to stop him. William Delmore can never reach Whitshire.

“D
ON’T BE DISCOURAGED, MY
lady,” Chaunce said gently, handing Hermione a soothing cup of tea. “It may take time for yesterday’s positive effects to show themselves.”

With a weariness that was as sweeping as it was unfeigned, Hermione sighed, leaning back against the settee and sipping at the fortifying brew. “Do you really believe that’s possible?” she asked, giving Chaunce a hopeful look.

“Of course.” Glancing swiftly at the sitting room door to ensure that it was shut, Chaunce placed a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Miss Gaby had a wonderful time at Whitshire. She spoke of it all evening long. Perhaps she was overtired. Perhaps she had too much excitement for one day. Perhaps one visit is not enough to counter the pain that’s causing her to sleepwalk. Any or all of those circumstances could be responsible for last night’s episode. We mustn’t give up.”