Twilight 0f Memory (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Watters

  "Where did you go?" she asked, wishing the room would stop spinning.

  "To the river to tell the boatman to wait," Damon replied.

  Elizabeth checked where the pouch had been. "The opal. It's missing from my leg."

  "I know. I hid it under the bed before I left for the river. I figured if someone came and searched you and didn't find it, they'd assume I had it and come after me. It's under the bed. Lay back down. I'll get it." Before releasing her, Damon said, "Are you alright?"

  "The room's turning, but I think the worst is over."

  "Then we'd better get the opal and get out of here." Damon went down on hands and knees and reached under the bed for the pouch. Unable to locate it, he stretched out his arm and reached further back while sweeping his hand across the floor. Finding nothing, he said, "I don't understand. I put it behind the front leg of the bed but it's not there. I locked the door before I left and it was locked when I returned so no one's been in." He shoved the bed with Elizabeth on it against the wall and padded his hand where the bed had been.

  "It couldn't just vanish," Elizabeth said. "Light a lantern. There must be one on the table."

  "That's too risky. Someone could see the glow. I'll find the broom and sweep the floor for it." Damon located a broom beside the door and began methodically sweeping narrow areas, one strip at a time, until he'd covered the entire floor of the small bungalow. Staring into the darkness, he said in a dismal voice, "It's just not here."

  Elizabeth looked at the window and saw the faint glow of light and could tell the glass was raised slightly. "Did you open the window before you left?"

  Damon glanced at the window. "No, but I'll see if someone could have crawled through." With effort, he raised the partially-opened window. "No one came in through this."

  Elizabeth stared at the window, her mind searching for something elusive... a shadowy figure... small... a pungent odor...

  The sound of voices could be heard in the distance. Damon rushed to the door and looked out. "They must have discovered the opal missing. People with torches are heading this way." Lifting Elizabeth in his arms, he rushed out of the dak and into the darkness while trying to negotiate an uneven road that was barely discernible.

  From behind, they could hear the voices coming closer as the gap between them narrowed, but before they'd gone far, someone in the roadway ahead called out, "Come this way."

  Damon stopped short and saw the figure of a man standing in the road. Glancing over his shoulder, he also saw the torches coming closer.

  "Come," the man insisted. "I know a different way to the river."

  Damon started to question the man, wondering how he knew they were heading for the river, but there was no time to speculate why the man was helping them, only that he was. When he caught up with the man, the man fell into step with him and said, "I see you come from river earlier. When I hear people, I know you need help."

  "Who are you?" Damon asked, uneasy with the man's presence.

  "It make no difference. You need to get to river. I know another way."

  Damon had bad feelings about this, but knowing if he put Elizabeth down she couldn't make it on her own, he had no choice but to follow the man, who was several steps ahead of them.

  "Thugee," he heard Elizabeth say in a weak voice, too weak for the man to hear. Damon also considered that, but hearing Elizabeth utter the word reinforced what he only suspected. But if the man were a thugee, he wouldn't be after the opal, only the lives of two people as part of an ancient bloody ritual.

  "This way," the man insisted, while ushering them off the main road and onto the silvery sheen of a trail that slithered between brush and heavy undergrowth.

  Damon glanced back again and saw that the group of people with the torches had stopped by the dak and were probably inside, looking for them.

  "Come," the man said. "No time to waste."

  Skilled in the arts of deception…

  Damon overheard his staff talking about the cult of thugee when he first arrived in India. The thugee enter into a conversation with a wayfarer traveling alone, and propose they travel together for protection, and when opportunity presents itself, another member of the cult puts a rope around the neck of the victim and strangles him.

  "It not far," the man said.

  Once off the main road and away from the prospect of being found by those behind them, Damon said to the man, whose back was not more than a few feet away, "My wife is sick. We need to rest." Without Elizabeth in his arms he could jump the man, but he needed a reason to put her down without the man suspecting anything, so he could catch the man off guard.

  "We almost there," the man insisted.

  Damon heard the crack of brush and realized someone was trailing them. "Bloody hell." He lowered Elizabeth to the ground and lunged for the man in front of him, and in the tussle, snatched the man's knife from the scabbard at his waist. Clenching the man's head in a vise grip, he held the blade to his neck. "Tell your friend to drop to the ground or I'll slit your throat."

  The man trailing them laughed and it was a laugh Damon recognized. "Cedric?"

  "Sorry, old boy," Cedric said. "You can slit his throat. I don't much give a damn. I only want the opal. You have it."

  "Not anymore. We left the palace with it but it's gone. You can kill both Elizabeth and me and you won't find it. So what's it going to be? Me killing your man here, or me killing both of you. You're no match for me and you know it."

  "I am with this."

  Damon saw the glimmer of light shimmying off the barrel of the gun in Cedric's hand. "Let him go and step aside."

  Before Damon could process what happened next, Cedric was flat on his belly, and the man beneath Damon sat abruptly, dumping Damon to the side while embedding the knife in his own chest. He let out a strained gasp then was silent.

  Elizabeth crawled on her belly and grabbed the gun that had been forced out of Cedric's hands when she rammed his legs from behind. Holding the gun in both hands, she said to Cedric, "Lie down with your face in the dirt, Lord Hadleigh. I'm not too weak to pull this trigger."

  Cedric did as Elizabeth said.

  Damon pressed his fingers to the other man's throat and announced, "There's no pulse. He's dead." Standing, he took the gun from Elizabeth, and said to Cedric, while pointing it directly at him, "Put your hands together behind your back." When Cedric did as he was told, Damon said to Elizabeth, "There's a strip of banding in my pocket. Use it to tie his wrists. He's going for a boat ride with us, and then to jail."

  Elizabeth did as Damon said. For the moment she felt a surge of energy, but she knew it was only a temporary rush of adrenaline.

  When they returned to the road they saw that the people with torches had turned back to the palace. Damon shoved Cedric from behind. "Start walking." When Cedric was a few paces ahead, Damon handed Elizabeth the gun, and said, "Keep it on him," then lifted her in his arms. With haste, they made their way down the trail to the river, where the boatman stood waiting.

  As the boatman guided the small vessel across the Hugli toward Calcutta, Elizabeth sat with Damon on a narrow seat in the high-arched back of the boat, Damon's arm close around her, while Cedric sat tied in the front of the boat.

  Elizabeth's stomach was queasy, things swirled around her, and her face felt as if on fire, but what troubled her more was the fact that they were returning without the opal. She'd fulfilled her part of the bargain, and it was Damon's fault that the opal vanished, so she still expected him to give her title to Shanti Bhavan, along with an annulment. But now, Damon was left without the opal she'd taken from him three years before, and he'd soon be turning the title to Shanti Bhavan over to her and returning her dowry to her father, which would leave him no recourse but to marry a woman of wealth.

  But she couldn't think about that now. Everything was spinning again, and darkness was quickly closing in around her, so she leaned against Damon and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 14

  Elizabeth
awakened in her own bed at Shanti Bhavan. She had a vague memory of being carried out of the boat, and snatches of riding in a buggy, but nothing more. Nor did she have any idea how long she'd been asleep, but the sun was well up and the room was abuzz with activity. She was surprised to find Damon sitting in a leather chair with his feet propped on an ottoman which he'd apparently placed beside her bed.

  He removed his feet from the ottoman and leaned toward her. "How do you feel?"

  "Tired." Elizabeth eyed him with curiosity. "How long have I been here?"

  "About ten hours."

  "How long have you been sitting here?"

  "Off and on for ten hours."

  It bothered Elizabeth that he'd seen her at her worst, which seemed ludicrous considering the danger they'd faced. "And Lord Hadleigh?"

  "In jail."

  Elizabeth pressed her lips in disgust. "I haven't trusted him since I first laid eyes on him and he knew it, though I still can't remember where out paths crossed, but I'm certain they did. How was he involved?"

  "Both the snake charmer and Cedric were connected with gypsies," Damon explained, "but the man with the monkey—the jewel broker—also worked for Cedric. The jewel broker passed on to Cedric the names of people purchasing gems, then Cedric's gypsies waylaid them, posing as thugees, and the jewel broker resold the gems, and they split the takings."

  "Gypsies?" Elizabeth memory sharpened with awareness. "Of course! I remember now. It was in an alley in Calcutta. I was hiding from a man who'd been following me, and while I was waiting until the coast was clear, Lord Hadleigh arrived, and shortly afterwards, so did Januz Kazinczy. Lord Hadleigh passed money to Januz and Januz left, but when Lord Hadleigh turned to go, he saw me watching and knew I'd been there the whole time, which was why he didn't want me around you. It also explains how Januz Kazinczy knew where the opal was the night I took it from you. He'd learned of the opal's whereabouts from Lord Hadleigh."

  Damon let out a snort of disgust. "So that explains why Cedric believes it's with the jewel broker who sold it to me. It was part of the plan to take it from the prince, but the police were here earlier and it seems the jewel broker has disappeared. The flat where he lived is vacant and the police could find him nowhere. But he'll turn up again, eventually."

  "Of course, the man with the monkey! I know how he got the opal!" Elizabeth said in an excited voice, as the dream with the monkey began to emerge. "The monkey came through the opening in the raised window in the dak and took it. I'm certain of it now. I remember the smell."

  Damon frowned. "Finding the jewel broker now would be like looking for a needle in a haystack." Then the frown flattened, and although Elizabeth didn't think he was aware of it, Damon's eyes began moving slowly over her.

  It wasn't until then she looked down and saw that she wore one of the gossamer gowns included in her trousseau. She also realized she was clean, yet she remembered nothing about being bathed or dressed in the gown. The last thing she remembered was feeling unclean, violated in fact, in the bearer's soiled clothes, and disgustingly dirty after laying on the mattress in the dak. But once in the boat, everything was vague. "Was I bathed in the tub?" she asked, wondering if Damon had been present.

  "No," Damon replied. "The ayahs bathed you while you were in bed."

  Elizabeth felt her temper rise. "And I suppose you were sitting there."

  "I'm your husband."

  "On paper only."

  Damon drew in a long sigh. "I was in the room but your ayahs surrounded the bed and my back was turned, but that's irrelevant. Between the times we were together three years ago, and the closeness during the trip from England, and the incident in the bath tub and our intimate encounter after the costume ball, I have seen all of you."

  Elizabeth pulled the sheet to cover her gossamer gown and looked away, not wanting him to see the color creeping up her face. Why she was embarrassed, she couldn't explain. But now, for some reason, his seeing her truly mattered. He mattered.

  "You're my wife," Damon said, "and I want you to remain my wife."

  "I know. That way you can keep Shanti Bhavan." Elizabeth planted her mouth in a firm line.

  Damon looked at her beautiful, angry face. But of course she'd believe the only reason he wanted her now was so he could sell the plantation and restore Westwendham, and he'd play havoc trying to convince her that more than having Shanti Bhavan, or Westwendham, or even the opal, he wanted her to return to England with him as his wife, because he loved her. But it would be futile to tell her now. Maybe after she was the independent woman she wanted to be he'd approach her again. But for the moment, he'd leave her be. Nothing he could say would change her mindset. "You'll get your title and your annulment."

  He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a letter, which he handed to Elizabeth. "This arrived yesterday while we were gone. It's from your father." He turned his back to her and stared out the window while she read the news.

  It all seemed pointless, he thought. What good was it that witnesses had come forward, testifying that he'd shot his half-brother in self-defense, or that his name had been cleared and he could return to England as Edmund Carlisle, Earl of Westwendham? Without the opal or the money from the sale of Shanti Bhavan, there would be no funds to maintain Westwendham so he'd have no recourse but to sell the estate and establish himself elsewhere. But even that didn't matter because without Elizabeth, life seemed pointless.

  "Then you'll be going back to England soon?" Elizabeth asked.

  Damon nodded. "I'll go to my attorney tomorrow and see to turning title over to you."

  ***

  When Damon left the room, Elizabeth was swept by a sense of loss. She'd be gaining Shanti Bhavan, but she'd lost Damon. But then, she never had him. Not really. And even though he said he wanted her to remain his wife, if he'd truly wanted that he wouldn't be so eager to give her the annulment. Perhaps it was for the best. Shanti Bhavan still held secrets, and she wouldn't find the answers in England.

  The following morning, feeling despondent, she summoned her ayahs. Once dressed, she went to the garden where she hoped to find solace. As she walked down the path to the gargoyle fountain, she set her mind on planning the English garden that would soon be there. She'd instruct the malis to start on it right away. She'd have them put up the brick wall first, then she'd have them lay the walkways and set benches in place so she could arrange plants around them. There would be flowers. Lots of flowers. Sweet peas, petunias, snapdragons, and copious pansies with their little smiling faces, and fountains and bird baths. And in her private garden, unseen behind the wall, she could sit on a stone bench, surrounded by flowers, and at last find solitude.

  With that thought, a desolate kind of wretchedness settled over her. Until now she'd always loved solitude. It was a time when she could conjure up spirits, sibyls and whimsical nymphs, and listen to the singing of crickets, and the croaks of frogs, and the sweet flute sounds of birds. But somehow, without Damon in her life, the solitude she'd once loved seemed meaningless. And with that thought, tears welled.

  Disturbed with her sudden rush of irrational emotions, she walked over to the gargoyle fountain and splashed water onto her face. Cold water... Fresh and clear... Splashing against her cheeks and rolling down her chin... Hands patting the water... Tiny hands...

  An image came to her suddenly...

  A baby brother patting the water with his tiny hands... laughing with glee as water splattered against her face. She saw herself clearly then, not more than six years old, reaching out to pick up the baby, but he crawled away on his pudgy little legs, laughing his high-pitched baby laugh. Then everything happened so fast. The scorpion. The baby's pitiful screams. The fever. The baby in a tiny coffin...

  Memories came flooding back. A year later, a sister too tiny to pick up. Healthy in the morning. Dead of fever by night. The baby's sudden death seemed to make Elizabeth's mother go mad. But the following year, there was another baby...

  A hideous awareness beg
an to creep into Elizabeth's soul, a memory of herself, ill with fever, her mother hovering over her, peering down at her through mosquito veiling. Her mother gone... A great commotion because the new baby was missing... Elizabeth, burning with fever, stealing out of her room to search for her mother...

  Her inner vision sharpened, and her blackest memory began to emerge. She was in the garden, standing near the gargoyle fountain, where just beyond, at a small stone temple, she watched a bizarre ceremony in which her mother, who had slit the baby's throat, offered the dead infant to some aberrant stone goddess in the temple. Elizabeth remembered nothing after that except finding herself in her own bed, fading in and out of delusions in which everything—the stone temple, her mother, the baby, the stone goddess—was blood red.

  When she'd recovered from the fever, all she was told was that her mother and the baby had died, and she asked no questions. By then all memory of the horrible killing lay buried in the deepest chambers of her mind, and the household was a flurry of preparing her for her sea voyage to England and her upcoming life at boarding school.

  As Elizabeth stared at the gargoyle fountain, the hideous truth began to settle into her awareness. Her mother had been demented, overwhelmed by tragedy and desperate to appease a goddess she believed would take her firstborn child too. But at last Elizabeth understood what drove her father to send her to England and claim her mother was dead.

  The realization came that India had robbed her of everything she'd held dear—her siblings to the pests and diseases of the infested land, her mother to the false promise of a profane pagan goddess, her father because he'd tried to protect her from the truth, and herself to a land that would never accept her.

  She also knew she didn't want to stay at Shanti Bhavan. She wanted to sell the place and its dark memories and return to England with Damon as Lady Carlisle, and bear Damon's children, and curl up in bed with him every night of her life, and feel his arms around her and know he'd always be there...