by Rue Allyn
Trailing her fingers along the walls, she made her way to the kitchen. The cook wouldn’t mind her quest for a midnight snack. In fact, the woman made sure there was something left to nibble on from the evening’s meal just for her. The servant’s thoughtfulness warmed her.
Entering the kitchen Delilah groped her way to the table and then along it to the larder. There on the middle shelf, as always, sat a plate with a few cheese slices and a miniature loaf of rye bread. Beside it sat the customary cup of almond wine. With a grin she carried her spoils to the table and followed its edge back to the door. A scuffling reached her ears before a loud clap of thunder concealed it. She froze. After the rumble died down she listened. It was quiet, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling someone was there. A shiver of apprehension made its way down her rigid spine. “Who is there?” A slight intake of breath caused her to turn in the direction of the door. “Who is there, I say?”
A subtle dampness and the musk of oiled leather reached her before pain exploded in her head. The plate and cup slipped from her fingers. The clatter of the china broke the silence. Her mind struggled to focus. Somehow she managed to scream, the echo ringing in her ears as she slid to the floor.
• • •
“Miss Daysland? Can you hear me?”
The earl’s question refused to register to her sluggish mind.
“Miss Daysland?”
She moaned. “My head.”
“Lie still.”
The high note of concern in his tone frightened her. Was she gravely injured? Raising a shaky hand she touched her head where it hurt most. Her fingers slipped through hair sticky and warm. Am I bleeding? “What happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. I was in the study when I heard a scream rivaling any banshee’s. I followed the noise and found you lying here unconscious. You must have slipped and hit your head.” He dabbed at her throbbing head with a cloth. “Where is your pony?”
She drew a sharp breath at his awkward attempt at first aid. “Jester sleeps outside at night, for I have no use of him after I retire. And, for your information, I did not slip. Someone hit me.” She snatched the cloth from his fingers and shoved his hand away.
Disbelief tainted his words. “There was no one here except you. Why would someone hit you?”
“I am telling you, someone hit me.” She tempered her anger, knowing mild-mannered reasoning was the way to win any situation. “I heard someone in front of me. When I called out they struck my head.”
He helped her to her feet. “That is absurd. There is no one here, and I doubt one of your loyal house servants would have done such a dastardly deed. They are all, so far as I can see, ridiculously protective of you. You must have simply banged your head on a cupboard or something.”
She wrenched her arm free from his grip. “I know someone was here and hit me.”
“Fine, fine. Someone hit you, if you so insist.” He patted her hand. “You need to go upstairs and rest.”
His lackluster assurance made her grit her teeth, but because of her dizziness she accepted his lead upstairs. Someone did enter the room intending to hurt her. The question was who and why? How was she to protect herself from it happening again when she couldn’t see her attacker?
Her maid met them at the door and drew Delilah into the bedchamber. Shooing away the earl she fussed, helping her mistress into bed and tucking the covers tight around her. “Oh dear. Why didn’t you ring me if you needed something, miss? ‘Tis not safe for you to be wandering the house alone in the dark. There are so many things you might hurt yourself on.”
Delilah frowned. “I did not hurt myself. Someone hit me.”
“Hit you?” A whoosh of air whistled from Teresa’s lips. “None of us would do such a thing, miss.”
“Well someone did.” Delilah cringed when the maid dabbed the cut on her head.
“I can’t believe it, miss. Perhaps we have a thief in the house.” A note of alarm strained her words. “Shall I ask his lordship to order the house searched?”
Her new guardian’s usurping authority made Delilah grit her teeth, yet she gave in to the servant. “Please do.”
Doubts assailed her. Did she imagine the whole thing? Perhaps she knocked something off a shelf, which in turn struck her as the earl believed. Could she have imagined the presence? Could it have been the wind making her think she heard something she did not? No, her senses were too keen to make such a mistake. The thought came to her in a dizzying flash: perhaps it was the earl. Could he have tried to hurt her? She was always safe wandering the estate alone, until now … until he came.
Chapter Seven
Delilah decided to forgo her usual morning piano practice because her head was still achy from the evening before. Instead she wandered out to the garden, whistling for Jester. The pony was beside her within minutes. “Bench, Jester.” Hand on his harness, she permitted him to guide her down the path to the stone bench beside the fountain. There was a slight nip to the air this morning, more to do with the coming fall than the storm the night before, she suspected. She sat on the cool stone, immersing herself in the birds’ melodic calls to soothe her raw nerves. Not a single feather of a breeze ruffled the curls already escaping her tidy bun, a clear indication the afternoon would be muggy and unbearable. Taking a calming breath, she savored the rich earthy smell, her favorite after a rain. She absorbed the sounds of her pony munching grass a few feet away and the buzz of a honey bee as it sought nectar from the flowers. Those simple sounds always relaxed her. As was her practice she vented her thoughts to her guide. “I am at a loss for what to do, Jester. A search of the house found no sign of a trespasser. Someone tried to hurt me, but who?”
The pony snuffled and continued to graze.
“Why would someone want to harm me? Surely not one of the servants, for they have never been anything but protective and considerate.” The earl was the first to my side. Did he hit me? Is he after my money? Perhaps it is all just a ruse to make me think I am vulnerable, and therefore consent to his matchmaking under the guise of protecting me. She brushed aside the unsettling thoughts. Though each idea contained merit, she was unable to commit to any theory with so little evidence.
Footsteps approached. After careful consideration she determined them to be the earl’s by the soft, sure tread.
“You should be resting.”
Frowning, she folded her hands in her lap. “I am resting.”
“Upstairs, I mean, lying down.”
“One does not have to lie down to rest. Besides, I feel fine,” she lied, trying to ignore the slight throbbing of her head. He snorted, giving her reason to believe the large lump on her temple was in all likelihood uglier than the gentle inspection of her fingers this morning led her to believe.
“Do you still think someone hit you?” His tone carried the slightest hint of mockery to it most people, except her, might have missed.
She shrugged. Perhaps it was best to let him think she discarded the idea for now.
He sat beside her on the bench. “Something strange is going on here. I think it is best if I find you a husband as soon as possible. For your protection, I mean.”
“My protection?” She knew this was the excuse he would use. “You are making more of this than it is, my lord.”
“Am I?”
With effort she made her response as firm as possible. “Yes.”
He snorted again. “Are you not the one who is convinced someone intentionally did you harm last eve?”
“Are you not the one who is convinced my servants are stealing from me?” Cocking her head, she awaited his answer. His heavy sigh was enough to show her needle irritated him. Checkmate.
“Come on.” His warm fingers gripped hers, tugging with gentle persistence. “I will show you the truth of my claim.”
“Show me?” She gave a hollow laugh, snatching her hand away. “Have you forgotten I am blind?”
“Not at all. Come on.” Again he took her hand in his warm one, pulli
ng her to her feet. Settling it in the crook of his arm he led the way.
Having no other choice she followed. When they got to the house he turned toward the barns. With trepidation she dug in her heels. “Stop. I cannot go this way. I am not familiar with the path.”
“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?
Chapter Eight
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?”
