Oxford Whispers

by Marion Croslydon

  “Indeed,” he answered. “He died at the Battle of Worcester on the third of September, 1651. The battle marked the final Parliamentary victory, when Cromwell defeated Charles the Second. Previously, Robert had distinguished himself at the Battle of Dunbar, in Scotland, although the Royalists lost it.”

  Madison folded up the cape, placed it in her bag and stood. “Thank you very much, Professor.” She should have waited for his signal to leave the table, but she had to get out and breathe some cold, city air. “I’d like to ask you one last question.”

  He nodded, and Madison noted his relief to see her leaving.

  “Was the painter William Shakespeare Burton connected to the Vances in any way?”

  His mood picked up. “Yes, of course. He stayed at Magway for a while at some point during the 1850s, benefiting from the earl’s generosity. In fact, The Wounded Cavalier is one of my favorite paintings.”

  He seemed to reflect for a moment, then added, “I never thought about it this way, but the Cavalier reminds me of Robert Dallembert. Maybe that’s how Burton got his inspiration.”

  You bet.

  She shook his hand and started to make her way out of the drawing room.

  His voice stopped her. “Hopefully, the next earl will meet a happier fate than Robert.”

  It took Madison a few seconds to register that he was talking about Rupert.

  Creepy.

  Chapter 25

  SPLISH. SPLASH. The rain dripped on his car’s bonnet.

  Rupert breathed in the leather scent of the Morgan’s seats. The drive back from Magway had sapped all of the energy that remained in him. At least Harriet’s monologue had kept him awake and focused on the road, a small blessing.

  They had made it back to Oxford, and he no longer needed to register her voice. He let her out. She rushed toward the front door of her house and tried to get out from under the downpour. He didn’t want to leave the shelter of the car, and instead stared blindly at the mist rising from the street.

  The sight of Harriet made him feel sick to his stomach. Her voice, when not keeping him awake, caused his jaw to clench. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, let alone touch her. If he went into her house, she’d expect them to have sex. For the first time in his entire life, Rupert was going to pass.

  He had to break up with her, just like he had planned to do this morning before going to Magway for a “family” lunch. Camilla had invited Harriet and her parents.

  But breaking up wouldn’t solve his problem. He couldn’t bear to face his own image. Closed spaces made his skin itch. At Magway, he had vanished and ventured onto the bleak hills, striding across them, eager to exhaust his nerves.

  In vain. The walks hadn’t killed the grief after his mum died either.

  From the steps of her house, Harriet waved for him to hurry up and join her. She waited under the porch, barely protected from the rain. She was soulless, but she didn’t deserve his lies, or the truth that he had never loved her.

  Rupert jumped out of the car and caught up with Harriet.

  “At last,” she said. “My house keys are in your pocket.”

  He handed them to her. She made her way inside and held the door open for him. “Rupert, it’s freezing outside.”

  “I’m not coming in. Sorry.”

  A quizzical expression crept across her face.

  “I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry,” he repeated. And he was.

  She took a moment before speaking, “We can talk about it inside. You’re cute. It’s fine if you want to play the field. As long as you do it discreetly, I don’t need to know. We’re together for the long haul.”

  She misunderstood his motives, but her words proved she cared as little for him as he cared for her.

  “I don’t want to play the field. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  She stiffened and directed a sharp look at him. “You found someone else.”

  “I think you and I, we’re not good for each other.”

  “It’s that little American bitch.” Harriet spat venom. “She’s been at your house for the whole Michaelmas. I thought the two of you were working together, but you’ve slept with her.”

  As much as he wanted to spare Harriet’s feelings, there was a fine line she should not cross. And that line was Madison. “Madison is my friend, so watch your words.”

  “You’ll forget about her. She’s too bland to keep you interested for long.”

  Harriet stood on her tiptoes and leaned against his body, chewing on his lips. Her gesture was supposed to be enticing, but her mouth felt dry. He wanted to taste Madison’s honey-flavored kiss instead.

  Rupert took a step back, pushing her away. “As I said, I don’t think we’re good for each other. Insulting Madison won’t change that.”

  Guilt then made him pat her shoulder, his hands clumsy.

  Retreating from the porch, he added, “I’ll bring back the stuff you left at my place.”

  “Don’t bother. You’ll regret this. You’ll get bored and you’ll return to me. Just like your father always did with your mother.”

  She slammed the door.

  More than ever before, Rupert loathed that chain of DNA linking him to Hugo Vance.

  He would not do to Madison what his father had done to his mother. He would not put her through living hell.

  PIPPA’S BEDROOM provided a cozy cocoon against the gray, English January. A girly pedicure had seemed like the perfect distraction to Madison’s homesickness and the painting’s love triangle.

  Pippa had a memory bag full of Christmas family stories she could tell with panache and a dose of melodrama. Madison relaxed, listening to her friend and her Irish lilt.

  However, after thirty minutes, Madison’s legs had frozen into an itching stiffness. And resisting an inquisition was proving to be mission impossible.

  “Please, stop pretending. You haven’t been yourself since the start of this term.” Pippa paused and stared at her. “I’m sure it’s a boy.”

  “I’ve had exams all week.”

  But Pippa listed, undeterred: “Last name, first name, age, college, Facebook relationship status.”

  Madison longed to indulge in a full-on confession. But Pippa’s past fling with Rupert stopped her from going into details. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Pippa opened a bottle of polish and started applying color to Madison’s now perfectly cut toenails. “Stop being so pompous. If we can’t talk about boys, this friendship has no future.”

  “I can always listen to you talking about boys.” Madison corrected herself. “Oops, sorry, Ollie.”

  Pippa lowered her face and hid her expression. She asked again, “Tell me who the guy is.”

  Madison shifted on the bed, her trapped feet restraining her impulse to flight. She gave in. “Vance, Rupert, twenty-two, Christ Church College. No idea about his Facebook profile.” Not true. Madison suspected his page would state something like: “In a relationship, with the Queen of Bitchiness.”

  Pippa’s hand stuttered and missed her target. The polish smeared over the bed linen and left a purple streak on the soft, white surface.

  She gaped, shut her mouth and opened it again to ask, “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

  Rupert courting Madison wasn’t such a long shot, or maybe it was.

  “Snow White lost her virtue with the huntsman,” Pippa mocked, “how cute.”

  Madison resented her entrapment even more.

  “I didn’t lose my virtue. Nothing happened. We just kissed.”

  “We just kissed,” Pippa repeated and pursed her lips in an innocent pout.

  Madison took back possession of her feet and stumbled out of the bed. “I’m sorry. I know you and Rupert slept together last year. I should have thought twice before starting anything with him.”

  “Starting anything. You live in your own little world, sweetie. What about Harriet?”

  Looking down at her half-colored nails, Madison’s cheeks reddene
d. She wanted to forget about this teeny, tiny detail.

  Her friend continued. “Rupert schmoozes a lot of girls, but he’ll always come back to someone of his own class. She ticks all the right boxes.”

  And I don’t.

  Remaining mute, with her eyes still fixed downward, Madison felt like a naughty schoolgirl told off by her teacher.

  The truth was she had been back for a week and hadn’t heard from Rupert at all. She could have turned the page, or she could have confronted him.

  Instead, she’d chosen to be passive. Rupert hadn’t answered her text on New Year’s Day. He hadn’t called her back when she left him a voicemail after her meeting with Archie Black. She was scared to get rejected, and the fear had paralyzed her, had made her a coward.

  She deserved better than being treated like damaged goods.

  Grabbing her leather satchel, she put on her duffel coat.

  “Where are you going?” Pippa asked.

  “Off playing the huntsman.”

  Madison stepped out of Pippa’s house. The cold outside belonged to more than Oxford in January.

  Chapter 26

  Near Oxford - December 1650

  THE STILLNESS OF THE winter has settled over the forest, now covered with a thick blanket of snow. The whistling wind ruffles through my hair and brings with it the scent of woodsmoke from a nearby hamlet.

  I admire a robin redbreast and enjoy listening to its rich and warbling song. The bird is perched on one of the withered branches of the oak tree. It is under one of those branches where my Cavalier found refuge, and I found him.

  “Please, pay attention to the protruding roots underfoot. The snow makes them more treacherous.” Peter wanted to accompany me for my daily outing. Since his return from London, he has either been praising his own achievements or walking in my shadow.

  I know the question he intends to ask me. I do not follow the conversation because I am too involved in my inner thoughts. Unable to meet his eyes, I busy myself pulling lint from my cape.

  “We are so close to the ultimate victory. After the defeat at Dunbar, the Royalists have nowhere to go. Charles cannot reign over England from a blistering hole in Scotland.”

  He sounds triumphant.

  “No, he cannot.” My monotonous voice doesn’t echo any of his enthusiasm.

  Peter has never been astute in deciphering the feelings of the people around him. His interests go only so far as the next step in his political ascent.

  This is why I have never loved him and never will.

  Still, he has stopped walking, and the twitch in his cheek has reappeared. It always does when he becomes flummoxed or has an important declaration to make.

  I duck my head with apprehension for what is to come.

  “My dear Sarah, we have been friends since early childhood. We looked at each other like brother and sister. But now has come the time …”

  In a rare moment of speechlessness, Peter struggles for words. “Now has come the time to reconsider the nature of our relationship. My feelings for you are sincere, and I do believe our union will bring satisfaction to both our families.”

  I inhale to temper the uncaring response that will hurt him. Even if Peter doesn’t care about my feelings, I will still have the courtesy to care about his.

  I shuffle my feet. “I do love you.” His chest bumps forward, filled with pride, and I have to correct his misconception. When I do, it is with a stutter. “Un-unfortunately, I am afraid … I still consider you as an elder brother. Therefore, our union would be much inappropriate.”

  His shoulders slump, but not for long. Glowering replaces his air of defeat. Underneath his polished demeanor I feel the threat and pull at the collar of my coat, a vain barrier against him. Despite my fear, I extend my hand to lay it on his arm, but he recoils.

  Walking away from me, he seems to regain his composure. He spins on his heel and returns. I take a step back.

  “Your sister warned me. I should have believed her.” Blood has suffused his face. “You have been involved with a Royalist.”

  His question causes my hands to tremor. My sister, the only person I trusted with my secret, has betrayed me. But I have to stand up for my love.

  I have to fight for Robert and ignore the agony his silence has thrown me into. It has been a month since the last of his missives.

  “I am sorry, but I cannot change my feelings for you, or for him.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself. Betraying our cause, your family, me.”

  “I have not betrayed anybody, and I have never encouraged your feelings toward me. As for my family or our ‘cause,’ love does not leave much choice in these matters.”

  “Much choice?” A snarl deforms his prim face. “Who is that man? How did you meet him? There are not that many Cav …” His mouth freezes in the middle of the word, and his eyes shift away from me to settle on the oak.

  In their orbit, his pupils dilate, and his neck becomes purple at the level of his collar. He mutters something under his breath. I cannot hear the words but they must not be kind.

  “It has to be him. The Cavalier we found wounded in the spring. It is him. Robert Dallembert.”

  How can Peter know about Robert? My surprise brings a sneer to his mouth.

  “I know everything, Sarah. Nothing escapes my diligence. Over the summer, I heard the heir to the Earldom of Huxbury had survived a skirmish with one of our patrols around here. I deduced he was the man we found on this spot, the man who had threatened you, while I went to find some support. You refused to follow me, but I should have dragged you out of this forest. Only, he did not threaten you. Shame on you, Sarah. Shame on you.”

  As much as I want to rush away from him, I cannot. “I love him, Peter. Nothing you can say will change that fact. I do not regret having saved Robert.”

  “Stop.” Peter shakes his head, and for the first time I can see his distress. “Before professing such undying love, you should ensure the sentiments are reciprocated.”

  Robert loves me. He loves me, but he hasn’t written to me for one long month.

  Peter continues his destructive march. “I have heard from people with firm knowledge. It seems the object of your affection is promised to the daughter of a noble family in the north. It is in his interest to strengthen his claim to the title, with his half-brother so close to the king.”

  I clap my hands over my ears. Peter is saying horrible lies.

  Promised? It cannot be true. I would like to curl up on my knees.

  The song of the robin echoes throughout the winter deadness. His once cheerful melody has become a mournful dirge.

  Peter’s words have shattered my dreams.

  TEN MINUTES AFTER leaving Pippa’s room and her short trip to the past, Madison rang the bell of Rupert’s house in Jericho. Monty opened the door.

  “Rupert, someone for you,” Monty shouted up the staircase without allowing Madison in.

  He looked the worse for wear, his hair disheveled, the area under his eyes puffy with sleep. Judging by the champagne bottles piled up by the side of the entrance door, the house had seen a hell of a party. Again. A party Rupert hadn’t invited Madison to.

  Monty finally gestured for her to enter the living room. His tired eyes followed her, and Madison expected him to talk. Instead, he took his coat and threw her a distracted goodbye.

  Rupert appeared, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Squeezing the Marlboro Light between two fingers, a frown contradicted his welcoming words. “Madison LeBon, what a surprise.”

  She didn’t answer and kept her hands clasped in front of her.

  “I won’t offer you a drink. Still training hard, you know.” He hadn’t lit his cigarette either. What else was he faking?

  Madison struggled for words. The contemporary paintings on the walls around her didn’t provide much inspiration. Their multicolor jutting lines stabbed her confidence.

  Lounging on one of the plush sofas, Rupert prompted her to tal
k. “What can I do for you?”

  His tone was mundane. She wanted to flee, but searing anger took over her speech. “Don’t behave like this.”

  His lips tightened into a fine line, and he shifted on the leather cover. “Maybe you should tell me how to behave then.”

  Despite his words, he had the upper hand. Her pride kicked in.

  “You shouldn’t pretend nothing happened between us. It isn’t fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, sweetheart—”

  “Don’t sweetheart me,” she interrupted, fire burning her cheeks. “And stop acting as if you’re a snobby brat. You’re worth more than this.”

  Rupert gave her a mocking bow with his head. “Merci, mademoiselle.”

  Jerk. Pacing around the room, she squared her shoulders. “That night you were real, you opened up.”

  He sat up on the edge of the sofa, and his eyes warmed but not for long. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood. I’m no saint. And you’re very cute.”

  The roughness of his admission knocked her down. Tears threatened to flow. She focused on keeping her eyes dry, while the room spun around her.

  God, she had invited him to her room, into her bed. She had opened up her heart, lowered her defenses. All that for him.

  A haunting litany echoed in her head. The words were so loud than she was surprised Rupert couldn’t hear them as well.

  Sentences succeeded each other in a crazy rhythm. Sentences she had read in Mamie’s diary, late one night, and had remained printed in her subconscious.

  That thou shalt be turned into a stone,

  And that as in a coffin thy limbs shall be bound …

  She covered her ears with her palms, but the loudness exploded.

  And that thy house and lands shall be impoverished and spoiled,

  That light shall be withheld from thine eyes …

  She was cursing Rupert and couldn’t stop, couldn’t control the torrent of bad wishes.

  He jumped out of the sofa and grabbed hold of her elbows to keep her from collapsing onto the wooden floor. “Maddie, I just don’t want to hurt you.”