When she looked up at her husband, he was smiling down at her. "It'll be all right, Lillianna. I promise."
"I'm just worried for you, Charlie," she said back,
He leaned down and kissed her temple and was quiet after that.
They watched through the windows, until the sun retreated beyond the horizon and darkness took over. Lily realized, the further they went, just how alone she felt.
The door opened suddenly, and Lily opened her eyes. The coach had stopped. "Charlie?"
"We're here, sweetheart. Are you awake enough to walk?"
"Of course."
He jumped down as the coachman opened the door and turned back to take her by the waist and lower her to the ground. Lily looked up to see the huge house in the darkness as Darby spoke with the grooms about the trunks. The moon gave some light but not much. Through the window of the front room, she could see lamplight illuminating the marble portico in front of the house. Eerie shadows on the outer portion of the drive were evenly spaced, suggesting they might be large yews.
The front door above the skillfully crafted marble steps opened, and an older gentleman stepped out, bowing to them. Even this late at night, he was finely dressed, right down to his shiny shoes. Lily thought she could see her reflection in them as they approached.
Darby, however, paused when they reached him. "Winston. How is he?"
"Very ill, my lord. He and the countess are in his chambers."
"Thank you. Come, Lillianna."
"Perhaps the lady would be willing to wait—"
"Nonsense. Meet Lady Darby, my wife."
The butler looked shocked, but he covered it quickly and bowed deeply at the waist. "Proceed then, my lord and lady." It was unnecessary, Lily thought. They were already halfway to the curved stairway.
Lily had started to curtsy, but Darby had seen it and put his arm around her shoulders, urging her along with him. They were on the way up the steps when he said softly in her ear, "There is no need for you to curtsy, Lillianna. Winston is the butler."
She looked back over her shoulder at the man they had left downstairs. He was still watching them, and she smiled at him. His expression did not change.
She glanced up at her husband as they reached the top of the steps. "Does he not smile, sir?"
"Not often. Come."
His steps were long, and she was having difficulty keeping up with him until he noticed and slowed to match her speed. "I'm sorry, my darling."
"No, it's all right, Darby. I'll run, if I must."
Lily made an effort to keep up with him in the huge house. They turned right, then left, then right again; she lost track of how many times they turned as they traveled the lamp-lit hallways, finally reaching the room at the end. She wondered if she would need to leave bread crumbs when navigating the hallways by herself, like Hansel and Gretel in the fairy tale her mother had read to her as a child.
Darby pressed against the heavy door and pulled her inward as he moved into the massive room. Several lanterns were lit in here, too. Inside, lying back on a massive bed, was the earl. Lily studied the pale face resting on the pillows. She might well have recognized him; he so resembled his son.
The earl did indeed look weak and frail. Even asleep, creases etched his eyes and the sides of his mouth. His head and his hands moved in a jerky fashion, frequently.
Darby left her side suddenly, striding to where the earl lay. Reaching down, he took his father's frail hands in his own.
"Father," he said quietly. "I'm home."
Lily watched the face of the older gentleman as he opened his eyes and stared upward.
"Charles?" Suddenly, the recognition lit his face, followed by joy. "Son?"
Darby sat down on the bed next to him, and his father pushed upward, throwing both arms about him, hugging him.
"It's you! It's truly—"
"Yes, it's truly me."
"But I heard Poche sank your ship…"
"Yes, and you did hear correctly. The Charlotte sank when the Mermaid's Revenge put a cannon through her side. But the crew—most of them—survived. The privateer captain was killed by one of his own men and Gregory took command of his ship. He renamed it the Arabella."
Color filled the earl's face as Lily watched. He was shaking, now, and laughing. "You're back. God gave me my boy back! My dear, wake up! Charles is home!"
For the first time, Lily noticed the woman asleep in the chair in the corner of the room.
Her hair was graying, but she maintained a youthful look as she slept. When the earl called her the second time, she blinked and leaped up at his voice, First, she flew to stand over his bed and then she spotted her son, on the other side of the bed. She put a hand to her chest when she saw him.
"Charlie!" Running around the bed to him, she threw her arms about his neck. "Charlie, you're alive!"
Then, however, she smacked his cheek sharply. "How could you?" Her voice turned to one of irritation. "We've been thinking you were dead at the bottom of the ocean for weeks now. How could you have not sent word?"
Darby grinned. "How was I to know you thought me dead?"
But it was his father who spoke up. He leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck as if it hurt. "You know how word travels among seaports. As your mother said, we heard weeks ago that the Charlotte sank."
"She did. But we didn't." He glanced behind him toward Lily. Ah, but please forgive me—how could I have been so rude?" He crossed the room toward Lily and held out his hand. "My dear Lillianna, please meet my mother and father, the Earl and Countess of Darbyshire."
Lily was glad she was now in the circle of his arms. The surprise on the faces of the earl and the countess unnerved her so much that she nearly forgot to curtsy and completely forgot to address them. Finally, Darby whispered into her ear, "My lord and my lady."
She managed a deep curtsy toward the earl. "My lord," she said softly and then returned the huge white smile he sent her. She turned toward the countess and repeated the curtsy, but when she said, "My lady," a sharp intake of air was heard throughout the room.
The countess stood before her, unsmiling, with a stone-faced expression. Lily stared back, not knowing what to do. Despite her husband's arms about her, she attempted to back away from them.
Darby's voice contained censure, when he spoke. "Mother, surely, you will welcome my wife, Lillianna."
"Your…wife?" The countess' voice was stinging.
Lillianna looked up at her husband, her eyes wide and frightened.
But the earl reached out a hand toward Lily. "My son has married? Come here, my dear. How lovely it is to meet you. Promise me, you'll come up in the morning and have tea with me?"
"I-I promise, my lord. Thank you." She glanced up at Darby to see if he was going to give her any specific instructions. When he merely grinned at her, she stepped forward to take the earl's hand. When she turned to look toward the countess, she blinked, searching the room.
The countess was gone.
"I'm sorry," Lily said, uncertainly. "Have I said something wrong?" Her large eyes looked back at Darby in worry.
The earl's voice was comforting as he said, "It's just the surprise, my dear. She will be over it by morning, I assure you." His face appeared calm. "And I shall be much better then, now that my son and his new bride are here to cheer me up." He looked toward his son. "You, my son, are a sight to behold. And I have never been so excited to lay eyes on anyone as I am just now."
Darby reached toward Lily, and she smiled up at him, going into his arms swiftly. He folded her close to his chest, glancing over her head at his father. "And what made you come here to Glossyp, Father?"
"Too many damned visitors from the House of Lords. I couldn't get away from them. This was the only way. Besides, I knew if there was any news to be had from the seafront, this was a closer place to hear it. Ah, I'm a happy man this night. Go and rest, the both of you. I shall see you in the morning. And if you see your mother, send her back in here, and tell he
r she's in trouble."
"I believe I'll let you be the bearer of that news." Darby chuckled. "Come, my darling. I believe we should retire for the night."
Lily slowly awakened the next morning, in the bedchamber the servants had prepared for them at the last minute.
"Charlie?" Her voice echoed in the huge room. He was gone.
The nightmares had returned during the night. She barely remembered her husband's voice in her ear, speaking kindly and softly to her. Perhaps that was why she felt so tired this morning.
Lily threw back the covers and rubbed her eyes, studying the room. The brocade drapery over the windows had been pulled back, and the beautiful room was both masculine and elegant. It was furnished with dark, exotic woods. When she stood and walked toward the window that overlooked the gardens, she was overwhelmed. Topiaries lining the edges of the pond were stately. A tiny bridge made its way across the pond toward the sloping green hills that graced the lands.
She struggled with the buttons up the back of her dress but finally managed. When she was dressed, she peeked out the door and down the hallway. How in the world would she ever learn her way around this monster of a house? The convent as a child had been challenging enough; the ship even more so. The carpet was lush and thick, and she looked down. Bare pink toes peeked back at her, and realizing she'd forgotten to put her slippers on, she ran back to find them. They didn't match the gown she'd chosen this morning. She hoped no one would notice. The rest of her slippers must be packed away somewhere in the trunks.
Making her way toward the end of the hall, she noticed the curved stairway and began to descend slowly, much as she assumed a lady would. But she could hear voices now.
Charlie's voice reached her first, and she caught her breath. He sounded defensive.
Lily frowned. She could hear contention in his tone and moved slightly faster toward the sound.
"I think you're being judgmental, Mother. There has never been a more loyal young lady on the face of the earth than Lillianna. I don't understand at all what you find contemptible in her."
Contemptible? Lily's head rose, slightly, her eyes wide and distressed.
"She may be loyal, Charles. She may be nice."
"She is."
"But she is not suitable."
Lily listened as her husband's voice grew stronger, "I will tell you this, dear Mother. You may refuse to see her virtues and her graces. I, however, love her dearly. She is and always will be my wife, and it's time for you to make peace with that."
Dear Charlie, thought Lily. But the countess was now weeping, and Lily's shoulders slumped.
The earl's voice was heard next. He was out of his room?
"Stop it, my dear. Your tears won't work, this time. Charles is right. He is now married, and it's time for you to finally realize that this fantasy tale you have had in your mind all these years will never come to pass. You have a new daughter-in-law and I, for one, think she's lovely. She adds good blood to this house. I intend to have tea with her, this morning, and get to know her. If you choose to be left out, it will be to your own detriment."
It happened before Lily had a chance to move. The weeping countess ran from the room and stopped short, right in front of her. The countess's face, to Lily's dismay, held bitterness.
They stood there, with locked eyes. Then, suddenly, the countess moved to the right and began to run toward the back of the house without saying a word.
Lily ran toward the entrance to the foyer, in tears now, herself. She stopped before Winston, who had remained there motionless through the exchange, and choked out a sob, "Please open the door."
"But, Lady Darby, I hardly—"
Lily was not about to argue. She ran past him and opened it herself, leaving it wide open as she ran outside and down the marble steps.
The grounds outside the mansion were open. There was nowhere to hide. She tore off in the direction of the gardens and around the back of the house, remembering the pond. It had to be somewhere.
Tears flooded her face as she ran, first one way, then the other. She spotted the pond as she reached the edge of the gardens and ran across the small bridge that curved over it. The topiaries on the other side might hide her until she could figure out what to do.
Studying them, she found one at the far edge of the pool that was thick enough to hide under. It reminded her of a dragon with wings that drifted down toward the ground, low enough that they might give her cover. Hearing a shout from the house, she quickly slid down under it, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around them.
The reality of what had happened hit her like a stone. It was impossible to stay here, not where the countess hated her so. Her deepest fears, the ones she'd been plagued with on her journey home, had come true. She would never belong.
Burying her face into her arms, she wept. If staying here was no longer possible, where could she go? It was miles toward Glossyp. The moors surrounded the grounds, as far as the eye could see. Perhaps the opportunity to get a job working in the mill again in Glossyp existed, but her stomach rebelled at even the thought of it. She could take in laundry—perhaps she could survive that way; she'd done it once. Her tears trailed down her arms to the front of her gown, wetting it.
Another shout from the house meant they were looking for her. Peeking out from under the wing of the dragon, she tried to figure out where the sun was. Ashton, the gatekeeper at the mill, had once told her that it was possible to tell which was east or west by the direction the shadows from the sun lay. The problem was she didn't know where the house was in relation to the town. Were they east or west of it? She could wander the moors for days if she went in the wrong direction.
She silenced her sobbing as she heard footfalls on the edge of the marble pond. A man's voice was heard very close. She held her breath, until it became more distant.
And what of Darby? She'd been believing a dream, if she thought she could ever act as a lady. She loved him with all her heart, but perhaps the countess was right. He deserved someone more 'suitable' than she would ever be able to be. He'd give up the search, eventually. If they didn't find her, it would be only a matter of time before they would decide she was dead. She could imagine her husband's face when he thought of her demise and lowered her head once again.
Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry I failed you! She buried her face deeper in her arms and sobbed.
A few moments earlier…
Winston, the butler, was full of apprehension. Unsure of what to do, he proceeded to the doorway of the drawing room.
Darby turned as he cleared his throat.
"My apologies, my lord. Lady Darby has run outside the house, and I expect she does not plan on returning—"
Darby's eyes grew large; he nearly knocked Winston over as he shot like lightning toward the door. Stopping just past it, he stood on the portico, his eyes scanning the grounds and the moors beyond.
Lillianna was nowhere to be seen.
He ran back to Winston, frantic. "Which direction did she go?" he demanded.
"I don't know, my lord. I came to tell you, as soon as she went outside. But I can tell you she heard the discussion in the drawing room regarding her."
Darby ran his hands through his hair. "Then she can't have been gone long. She must be somewhere on the grounds."
"I'll send servants out to look for her," his father's voice said from the doorway to the drawing room, and he turned. The earl was leaning between his cane and the wall, looking as if he might fall down at any moment. Winston and Darby both rushed to his side.
"The best thing you can do is to stay here and direct the others where to search. You mustn't try to help." Darby managed to get his father back into the chair and settled, before tearing out the front door.
First, he ran toward the stables. It might be the only place she could hide.
Searching for Lily…
As the hours passed, Darby began to grow increasingly frantic. Lillianna had no protection on the moors. The weather was
unpredictable, and she would be hungry, lost, afraid. He refused to allow himself to consider the wild beasts she might unwittingly come upon if she wandered far from the house. He cursed himself for allowing the conversation that morning between his mother and father, but at the same time, he didn't know what else he could have done. Could he have prepared Lillianna for this possibility? He'd been so sure they'd love her as much as he did, he'd never considered his mother's reaction would be so vitriolic.
He'd sent the groomsmen out to search the moors on horseback, but they had come back without seeing her. He'd had the staff search the inside of the house, thinking that perhaps she'd hidden there when Winston had his back turned.
He was ready to tell his mother that he would never again grace the grounds of this house if Lily wasn't found. He knew, however, that his father would be the one to be hurt by that.
He heard a shout and turned. One of the servants had run from the direction of the pond.
"We found her, my lord!" Harlem, one of the groundskeepers, was running toward him.
Darby shot toward him at full speed.
"She's under the dragon!" Harlem's voice was softer now.
Darby closed his eyes briefly, unable to believe he hadn't checked there. He'd hidden there once when he was a child, himself.
Slowly, he approached. The dragon was bigger now and fuller. He wouldn't have seen her at all if the ruffle of her skirt hadn't peeked out from under one of the wings. Tucked under it, she was curled up in a ball, asleep. Red curls trickled down over her face, and slippers peeked out from under a green gown. But she appeared alive and unhurt.
"Lillianna!" Down on his knees, he gathered her up in his arms.
Conquered by the Commander (The Conquered Book 2) Page 6
