Through Gypsy Eyes (6 page)

“Have you so little trust in me you think I will allow you to stumble and fall?” The quiver in his reply shamed her.

Could she trust him? Did she have a choice? Taking a deep breath, she followed his lead with disguised caution, stifling the urge to thrust out her hands and feel the way for herself. They walked for a few minutes in silence before the temperature decreased. As their footsteps took on a hollow echo she discerned they entered the barn. The smell of moldy hay and dust tickled her nose, confirming her suspicion. She sneezed.

“Bless you.”

She was about to thank him when she realized there were no sounds of animals snuffling in their stalls or munching feed. “Where are the animals?”

“I asked myself the same thing.” He paused to kick something out from under foot. The object rolled up against the wall with a hollow clunk. They continued on. “There is not an animal in any of the barns, and everything is covered in dust as if none have been here in a long time.”

“I can smell that.” She scowled, irritated he believed she needed his sighted observations.

“Oh, yes, I suppose you can.”

They stepped out into the courtyard and she raised her face to the sun. The fresh air was welcome after the abandoned odor of the stable. After walking through all four barns she was satisfied he told the truth. Deep in thought, she allowed him to escort her back to the house.
Why are not at least a few stock in the barns? Could the earl be right about the servants stealing from me?
A thought came to her and she decided to voice it. “Perhaps the stock is out to pasture.”

“No, nor are there any un-harvested crops in the fields.” He paused at the foot of the back steps. “What happened to your father?”

She puzzled his question. What did her father have to do with the missing livestock? “He rode out one day in a storm. The stable lad said he fell from his horse down into a steep ravine. By the time he was found it was too late.” She shivered, trying not to think of the hours her poor father must have suffered, lying there in the midst of the storm, broken and bleeding, hoping for help to come. “Why?”

His hand covered hers in a comforting gesture. “Did it ever occur to you perhaps his death was no accident?”

Though the idea was voiced with soft inquiry, the words startled a gasp of shock from her. Was it safe to admit to him she wondered the same thing? No, it was better to keep the idea to herself; she wasn’t sure she could trust the earl. “Who would want to do such a terrible thing and why?”

Fierce resolution stiffened his answer. “I do not know, but if it is the case I mean to find out.”

Was he truly interested in what happened to her father or was he only trying to divert any suspicions she had as to his involvement in her attack the evening before? If he too found her father’s death suspicious then had her gut feelings been right all along?

Delilah seated herself at the piano, resting her right hand on the familiar keys. She allowed her fingers skip along the keyboard and then back in a simple warm-up scale. She repeated the gesture with her left hand before striking a few major chords. Fingers ready, she began the intro to one of her favorite pieces, humming and swaying in tempo with the light-hearted melody. Soon she was lost in the world of the piano notes dancing behind her sightless eyes. Images from long ago mingled with the tune. The memory of color was a small joy in her dark world. A bird with a fiery red breast, sunny daffodils bending in the summer breeze, and Jester as a tawny color colt, wobbling toward her on laughably long legs. A six-year-old’s vague, rusty memories were all she retained, but they were something at least.
How old would Jester be now? Sixteen? Yes, he turned sixteen this spring. He has many years yet. What will I do when he is gone?
She pushed the thought from her mind. It was morbid to think of such things now; she chastised herself, returning her attention to the last few bars of the music. When the final note faded away she smiled and dropped her hands to her lap.

“That was beautiful.”

Startled, she pivoted on the bench to face the door. “How long have you been standing there, my lord?”

“Since the first few bars.” Lord Frost’s footsteps crossed the carpet. “You play very well.”

“Thank you.” Disgruntled at his encroachment into her solitude, she turned her back on him.

His normal stiff clip softened. “I did not mean to offend you by listening.”

“You did no such thing.”

“Then why are you angry?”

She settled her fingers back on the keys. “I am not angry.”

He chuckled. “Annoyed then.”

Shrugging, she played a few light chords. “What makes you think so?”

“Your face is a mirror to your thoughts, Miss Daysland. Your emotions are as transparent as glass.”

With a grimace she thumped the chords harder than necessary. So he could read her thoughts from her expression? It seemed she must take more care to keep her expression neutral. How to accomplish this without being able to see to judge for herself was the issue. “You are intruding on my practice. It is beginning to be an exasperating habit, in my opinion.”

He grunted. “Does my interruption bother you, or is it my presence in your home that is the root of your frustration?”

“Both.”

“I see.” He sighed as if it grieved him to be the cause of her bitter mood. “Well, rest assured as soon as I figure out where all the livestock and supplies have disappeared and see you happily wed, I will be out of your hair.”

“Ha,” she spat. “As I told you before, there is none who would want a blind wife.”

“Oh, but there is. I have even arranged a small dinner party with a few potential suitors to prove it to you.”

She slammed down the key guard and spun to face him. “You did what?”

“I arranged a dinner party tonight.”

The smugness of his statement pricked her ire even further. “How dare you! This is my house. I did not authorize any such party.”

The former stiffness returned to his response. “Do you forget I am now in charge here?”

Anger rushed through her veins and she sprang to her feet. “I confided in you. How dare you put me on public display like … like some sort of pathetic circus sideshow?”

“Sideshow?” The astonishment in his tone made her cringe. “I was merely trying to show you how desirable you are. Why do you see yourself as pathetic?”

Struggling to keep her tears of humiliation under control, she crossed her arms. “I do not see myself that way, my peers do. To them I am less than a woman. I have nothing to offer any man and to try to make me believe anyone sees me any different is cruel.”

“Do you really believe no one could see past your affliction?” He grasped her hand, prying it from its grip on her arm. “You are so wrong to think that way.”

Tears long held at bay streaked down her face, and when she would have wiped them away his fingers sought her cheek and did so for her. “It matters not what I believe. I have heard the whispered comments, the mocking voices, and pitying remarks. Others decided that I am not of value which is why I have made my own world here.”

His voice was soft and soothing. “Your peers are the ones who are wrong. You are so much more than blind.” His fingers lifted from her cheek leaving it cool in their wake. “I will make it my duty to show them what I perceive.”

She pulled from his grip, uncomfortable with his uncharacteristic gentleness. “What is it you think you see?”

“A beautiful woman who amazes me daily not with the things she cannot do, but rather the astounding things she can. My sis — ” He paused to clear his throat. “Most women struck with your affliction would sit alone in a dark room and will death to take them. Instead you have gone out and made the world conform to you, to dance at your fingertips and bow to your command through love and perseverance. Despite your lack of sight you are the most gifted piano player I have ever had the pleasure of hearing.”

Her lower lip quivered and she tucked it between her teeth a moment to still it. “You lie. You think simply to flatter me into compliance with your noddy dinner party.”

“I assure you, I do not seek to do anything of the sort and I
never
lie.”

She lifted her chin in stubborn conviction. “Never?”

“Never
.
”

The finality in his words made her want to believe him. Still, she experienced the truth for herself many times at a man’s hands. Rejection haunted the months of her coming out until she refused to bare her soul to it anymore and retreated. Her heart was safer here in her home. Now he wanted to bring men into her sanctuary to spurn her. “Are you so eager to be done with the king’s command you would toss me to the wolves?”

“Is that how you see courtship?” His heavy sigh hung between them for a moment. “I assure you it is the furthest thing from my mind. I seek to see you happy, wed, and looked after for the rest of your life, not at the mercy of thieving servants who profess to love you, yet are stealing everything of value out from under your very nose.”

The anger in his speech startled her. Did he really care? It was a difficult ideal to believe, for the only man who in truth cared for her was her father. “There has to be another explanation. I can’t believe servants who accept me for who I am and have cared for me all these years would do such a thing.”

“I have been through your father’s books and made careful examination of the storerooms, estate, and barns. As I said before, there is no livestock to be found and little supplies left.”

She ignored the impatience in his explanation. “Surely there must be some cause you have neglected to consider. Perhaps you have not found the correct storerooms — ”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe the servants would steal from you?”

She stood her ground. “They have always been loyal.”

“Aye, while your father was alive to keep his eye on them. I found the stable boy fornicating in the straw just the other day. When I told him to return to his duties he had the gall to ask by whose authority I would command him. That kind of disrespect speaks volumes of the servants here.”

Anger plucked at her emotions. How dare he say such things? Though he did say he never lied. No, she refused to believe such a shocking tale. Still, did she not see the truth for herself? Or rather hear and smell it? Damn her useless eyes! For the first time in many years she found herself helpless, and she did not like the feeling. “If you will excuse me, you have given me a headache.” She rose, moved around the piano bench to the veranda doors and whistled for Jester.

“Do not think to use such an excuse to get out of the dinner party tonight.”

At his warning she set her teeth and ground them together. “The thought never entered my head,” she snipped. Hoof beats clattered across the veranda and the pony brushed her skirts. Trailing her fingers along his neck she let the harness slip into her hand and then clicked to the pony to walk on. She half expected the earl to follow, but her and Jester’s footsteps were the only ones to reverberate against the stone.

A stroll in the garden would settle her thoughts. The path they took was familiar and in effort to give her mind something to toil over rather than the upcoming dinner party, she pulled the harness to the left, steering Jester onto the path to the stables. Despite the fact Jester was an equine, they never frequented the barns. Jester preferred to sleep on the veranda or beside the garden fence where he could hear her call should she need him. True to his protective nature, the pony’s steps slowed to allow her to test each place she put her feet. Again the air cooled to alert her they were entering the barn. Her guide clip-clopped along, the sound echoing in the empty structure.

“Whoa, Jester,” Delilah commanded.

The pony stopped.

She released the harness, struck out for the stall door, and leaned against it. “Where did all the animals go?” she asked, more to herself than Jester. Though she relieved half of the staff of their duties not long after her father’s death, she gave them more than adequate compensation, rewarding the remaining ones with a small, yet well-received raise. From what Teresa told her the wage she paid each employee was well above the norm, so what reason did they have to steal from her? It did not make any sense.

Something rattled at the far end of the barn aisle.

Pivoting, she faced the direction the sound came from. “Is someone there?”

A slight rustle in the straw made her reach for Jester’s harness.

“Hello?” Perhaps it was a rat out scavenging for bits of grain left from the horses who used to reside here. Footsteps approached from the opposite direction. She spun around wondering if two people might be in the stable with her.

“Miss Daysland?”

A sigh of relief slipped from her lips at the maid’s call. “I am in the stable, Teresa.”

The servant’s footsteps crossed the wooden floor boards. “What are you doing in here, miss?”

“Nothing.” Delilah reached for the harness and tugged it to cue her guide she wanted to go back to the house. “Jester and I were just taking a walk.”

“Well come on back to the house. We have only a few short hours to get you ready for the earl’s dinner party.”

Despite the unwelcome thought, Delilah submitted to the maid’s escort back to the house, the noises in the barn forgotten.

Delilah forced herself to sit still while the maid fussed with her hair.

“You look beautiful, miss.”

“I shall have to take your word for it, I suppose.” Though she tried to keep the vexation from her voice and brow, she did not succeed. Pressing fingers to her forehead she smoothed away the telltale wrinkles and sighed. The slight headache that nagged all morning still lingered in wait behind her temples. It threatened to become a full force skull pounding, which experience foretold would lay her low for a day at least.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of Lord Frost. Getting to her feet, she fixed a smile to her lips as the maid opened it. The slight brush of material upon material and minty scent alerted her to the earl’s presence. “I am perfectly capable of walking down the stairs by myself, my lord.”