by Nora Roberts
“He’s had a great deal of grief in his life, hasn’t he?” Felicity asked.
She saw Diana’s eyes fill as she looked away.
“Enough of this maudlin talk.” Honora signaled for a serving girl and helped herself to a glass of wine. Her tone left little doubt that she was annoyed at the direction of the conversation. “What kept you, Felicity? Did Bean do something clumsy again?”
Again? Was she being spied upon? “Bean was most helpful. I’m late because I stopped by Lord Falcon’s room for a visit.”
“How is my old friend?” Lord Summerville accepted a drink from the servant’s tray.
“He seems quite frail tonight. But he did manage to talk for a while. I think it brought him a measure of comfort.”
“Talk? You encouraged him to talk?” Honora’s eyes flashed. “I simply must insist that you refrain from visiting my father-in-law unless you first check with me.” Seeing the look of surprise on the faces of her guests, Honora added quickly, “As mistress of Falcon’s Lair, I am responsible for William’s father.” She shot a glance at the doctor. “Don’t you agree, Ian?”
“Quite.” He set his empty goblet on the tray with a clatter. “The old man is too ill to have visitors dropping by at all hours. It’s far too draining. I’ve suggested to Honora that even Simmons should be restricted to one or two visits a day.”
“That seems heartless,” Diana cried.
Everyone turned to look at her.
With her cheeks burning, she added, “It would tear Simmons apart to be denied access to Lord Falcon. You said yourself, Father, that the two have been inseparable since they were lads.”
“Indeed. Simmons was groomed for the position by his own father, who was butler to Oliver’s father. I’ve never known a time when Simmons wasn’t tending to Oliver’s needs. Except, of course, when Oliver was traipsing off to some godforsaken corner of the world. The Falcons have always been an adventuresome lot,” he added with a sigh.
Maud paused in the doorway to announce, “Supper is ready, m’lady.”
With a satisfied nod, Honora linked her arm through Lord Summerville’s and led the way to the dining room, with Ian St. John escorting Lady Summerville, and Diana and Felicity trailing behind.
“Did you happen to look in on William?” Diana asked softly.
Felicity shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I haven’t even met him yet.”
“Perhaps it’s just as well.” Diana’s voice trembled for just a moment before she added, “He seems to grow weaker with each passing day.”
“Perhaps an infirmary could be of some help. Or a sanitorium, where he could rest and recover his health.”
The young woman shook her head. “Honora won’t hear of it. She wants William by her side. And why not? They were barely wed when this happened. Who can blame her for wanting to spend as much time as possible with her new husband before…”
Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling.
“Here we are.” Lord Summerville held a chair as Honora took her place at the head of a long table, with Ian St. John at her right and Lady Summerville at her left. Diana sat beside her father, and Felicity took the seat beside the doctor.
The meal was long, consisting of eight courses. At some other time Felicity would have found it a marvelous experience. The roasted pork, the beef and mutton, were done to perfection. As promised, Cook’s tarts were the best she’d ever tasted. But she found the evening tedious. The endless chatter grated on her nerves. All she could think of was the fact that someone wanted her harmed, or worse, dead. And upstairs, an old man, alone in his bed, was hoping for a magic cure. But why had he summoned her father? Robert Andrews’ experiences in the field of health and science were limited to exotic medicines.
“I know you long for the excitement of London,” Lady Summerville was saying to her hostess, “but I do hope you’re beginning to look more kindly on our little bit of England.”
“It has its moments.” Honora pushed aside her tart and picked up a goblet of wine.
“And you, Ian,” Lord Summerville put in. “I should think it’s a relief to be home after so many months away.”
Felicity looked up. “Where were you, Dr. St. John?”
“Africa.” He twirled the stem of his goblet, staring into the clear, pale liquid. “A fascinating place.”
Felicity felt a curl of ice along her spine. “What were you doing in that far-off land?”
He lifted his head and met her gaze. His smile was chillingly bland. “Studying exotic medicines.”
5
Felicity’s nerves felt stretched to the breaking point. She could no longer concentrate on the others around the table. All her thoughts centered on one inescapable fact. Out of desperation, Lord Falcon had sent for her father, and not merely because he needed a friend. It was much more than that. He needed her father’s expertise.
Could it be that the old man’s illness had been induced? But if that were so, it would have to mean that the handsome, charming man beside her—
She pushed away from the table.
The conversation abruptly ceased.
“What is it, my dear?” Lord Summerville touched a napkin to his lips and started to rise. A touch of Honora’s hand on his sleeve stopped him.
“Nothing. Perhaps I am more tired than I thought.” Felicity took several halting steps and prayed her trembling legs wouldn’t fail her. “Please don’t let me spoil your meal. I believe I’ll just catch a breath of air.”
“When you’re feeling better,” Honora said with a trace of impatience, “we’ll be taking our brandy in the parlor.”
“Thank you. I’ll join you there.” Catching up her skirts, Felicity hurried from the room.
Once in the hallway she leaned against the cold stone wall and touched a hand to her chest, as if to still her pounding heart. If her fears were confirmed, it would mean that she had stumbled into a den of evil. She felt touched by icy fingers. Whoever had rifled her bags and pushed her down the stairs had meant it as a warning. Someone wanted to frighten her off. But if she stayed? Her life, like that of Lord Falcon, was in grave peril. Hadn’t Gareth said as much?
She took several long, calming breaths, then charted a course of action. Right now it was not fear for herself that mattered. The more pressing danger lay with Lord Falcon. And perhaps his son, the bedridden William. The first thing she needed to do was to find out where William’s rooms were and then confirm or dismiss her fears.
Lifting a candle from a sconce on the wall, she made her way along the dimly lit hallway, poking her head into doorways. After more than a dozen false starts, she located a gloomy sitting room. The only illumination came from the fire on the grate. Beyond, she could see a thin stream of light beneath a closed door. Crossing the room, she shoved open the door. A single taper burned in a wall sconce, casting much of the room in shadow.
A man lay on the bed. The twisted covers signaled a tortured sleep. He moaned and flung an arm wide, then writhed and turned onto his back.
Felicity waited for the space of several heartbeats. When he made no further move, she inched closer, holding her light aloft. At the sight of him she had to stifle a gasp of recognition. He bore a striking resemblance to Gareth. He had dark hair badly in need of a trim, broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips. All in all a strong, muscular body, despite the time spent in the confines of his bed.
“So you are William,” she muttered.
At once his eyes opened, and she felt another shock. He had the same dark, tormented eyes of another.
“Who are…?” His gaze fastened on the flame of the candle, and he shrank back, as though expecting her to inflict pain.
Did others come here, tapers in hand, to do harm? It would explain his reaction. Or was she seeing evil where none existed?
“I’m a friend,” she whispered.
He seemed not to hear as he began muttering curses. He tried to rise but fell back weakly. Then, while he stared at
her with a look that haunted her, he continued to mumble incoherent words.
She heard the door to the sitting room open and close. Sweet heaven. Someone was coming. Determined to hide, she looked frantically around the room, then ducked into a wardrobe and blew out the candle. A moment later she peered out and watched as a shadowy figure made its way to the bedside.
“Oh, my beloved,” came the sound of a woman’s fierce whisper.
Felicity was riddled with guilt at witnessing this tender moment between husband and wife.
“My poor, dear William. I feel so helpless. It tears my heart out to see you like this.”
As Felicity’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the figure beside the bed was not Honora. The gown was not the daring low-cut confection that Honora had worn at dinner. This was a more subdued, elegant sheath of pale silk.
Felicity stared in disbelief.
The woman beside the bed, whispering words of love, was Diana Summerville.
Felicity was too stunned to confront the distraught young woman. Instead she waited until Diana had soothed the savage William with gentle hands and barely audible phrases. As he slipped into blessed sleep, Diana smoothed the covers over him and let herself out.
Only then did Felicity step out of her place of concealment and cross the room. As she made her way to her own suite, she tried to digest all that she had seen and heard.
Could it be that Diana and the doctor were working together to bring down Falcon’s Lair? But why? What possible motive could she have? Felicity paused. Diana’s actions had not been that of a conspirator or a woman scorned. Rather, they had been the actions of a lover. But if not Diana, there had to be someone else assisting the doctor. He could not accomplish such a conspiracy alone. One name came to mind: Honora. But for what purpose? She was already mistress of Falcon’s Lair. What could she possibly gain by bringing harm to her husband and his father?
Felicity sighed in distress. She needed a friend here at Falcon’s Lair, one who could help her through this labyrinth. But whom could she trust?
“Ah, here you are, ma’am.” Bean looked up from the cozy fire she had built on the hearth. “There’s a real chill in the air tonight. Thought you might enjoy a bit of warmth after your meal with Lady Honora and Dr. St. John.”
Felicity stepped close to the fire and perched on the edge of the sofa, choosing her words carefully. “What do you know about the mistress of Falcon’s Lair, Bean?”
The little maid shrugged. “Not much, ma’am. Lady Honora’s a mystery. The last thing Lord William’s father expected was for his son to return from abroad with a wife. Especially since…” She stopped herself in midsentence and glanced away.
“Go on, Bean. Especially since what?”
The little maid lowered her voice and settled herself on a footstool at Felicity’s feet. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. Everyone knew that Lord William and Diana Summerville loved each other. And had since they were children. Why, it near broke Diana’s heart when she heard the news of his marriage. But she has tried in every way to be a friend to William’s new wife.”
“Tell me about William’s accident. Do you know how it came about?”
Bean nodded. “Lord William’s horse stumbled during a race across the moors.”
“Who was he racing against?”
“Dr. St. John.” The little maid hugged her knees. “The doctor boasted that his gelding could beat any horse in England and dared his cousin to prove him wrong. Everyone knew Lord William could never refuse a dare, and he was overly proud of Titan, his black stallion.”
“How did Lord William’s new bride react to the news that her husband was going to attempt a dangerous race?”
Bean thought for a moment. “I’d say she was quite eager about it, ma’am. Encouraged him. You see, she often complained that there was no excitement here at Falcon’s Lair.”
Felicity stared into the flames, her mind awhirl with chilling thoughts. “It looks as if she got more excitement than she bargained for.” At length she said, “Please send my regrets to Lady Honora. Tell her I am indisposed and will not be joining the others in the parlor tonight.”
A crescent moon hung suspended in a midnight sky. Starlight filtered through the tall, narrow windows as Felicity made her way along the upper gallery. Candles flickering in sconces along the walls sent the gargoyles’ shadows into an eerie dance.
Bean had told her about this gallery, hung with portraits of every lord of the manor, from the first Lord Falcon to the present. Since all in the castle were sleeping, Felicity thought it the perfect time to investigate.
She lifted her candle high, studying the faces in the portraits. Though the manner of dress changed dramatically through the ages, the faces of the men were strangely similar and hauntingly familiar. The same dark hair and eyes. The same full, sculpted lips, firm and unsmiling. The same eyes. Piercing. Knowing.
She moved slowly past the shadowed faces, pausing now and then to read a name, a date of birth or death. When she reached the far end of the gallery, she stopped in front of a portrait and, with pounding heart, lifted her candle to study the face of the first Lord Falcon.
“What are you doing here? And at such a late hour?”
Felicity spun around and brought a hand to her throat. “Maud—Mrs. Atherton. You…gave me quite a start.”
The housekeeper glowered at her. “Lady Honora said you were indisposed.”
“Just a bit weary, I’m afraid. But now I find I can’t sleep. I thought I’d explore some of the castle.” She knew she was babbling and turned away to avoid the woman’s pointed look. But when the light from her candle illuminated Gareth’s face staring down at her from its ornamental frame, she let out a gasp of surprise.
Following her gaze, the old woman misunderstood her reaction. “A fearsome countenance, is it not?” She paused beside Felicity and stared at the portrait. “But handsome and charming as well. He is Gareth, the first Lord Falcon. A dashing nobleman and close friend to Henry VIII.”
At Felicity’s look of surprise, she continued. “Falcon’s Lair was a gift from the king. It is said he often came here to hunt with his friend and to play tennis. And, of course, to be entertained by the ladies. Falcon’s Lair has a fascinating history. I’ve made it my life’s work to study it.”
“How did the first Lord Falcon…?” Felicity couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“Die?” Before waiting for an assent from the young woman beside her, Maud Atherton went on. “He accepted the offer of a duel with his brother, Adrian.”
“His own brother?”
“Half brother, actually. Adrian was a bastard. He coveted Falcon’s Lair and complained to all who would listen that had he not been born on the wrong side of the blanket, Falcon’s Lair would have been his.”
“He was willing to kill for it?”
“He wanted much more than Falcon’s Lair. It is rumored that Gareth loved Cara, a maiden from the village, and she in turn loved him. To taunt his brother, Adrian boasted that he would kill Gareth and force Cara to marry him instead. Falcon’s Lair would pass to Adrian’s descendants, since Gareth had none of his own.”
“Couldn’t Gareth save his ladylove from Adrian?”
“He desperately wanted to. He was an excellent swordsman and a fierce warrior. But instead of a fight between the two of them, Adrian sent an army to do his fighting for him. Gareth was forced to remain at Falcon’s Lair to protect the lives of his retainers and tenant farmers. That is, after all, the duty of the lord of the manor. It caused Gareth even greater sadness, knowing his honor and duty had to come before love. So he stayed, even though he knew that he would lose forever the woman who owned his heart.”
Felicity held her candle higher, to see the sad, tormented eyes of the man in the portrait.
“It is rumored that Gareth roams these halls still. Though the betrayal occurred centuries ago, he refuses to accept his eternal reward because he is haunted by the thought of his be
loved bearing another man’s son.”
“You mean Adrian made good his threat?”
“Aye.” Maud pointed to the next portrait. “Alexander, son of Adrian and Cara. Thus, all who rule Falcon’s Lair are descended from Adrian instead of Gareth.”
For long minutes the two women fell silent, each caught up in the drama that, after all these centuries, still held them in its thrall.
As the housekeeper started to turn away, Felicity touched a hand to her sleeve.
“Mrs. Atherton, I know you must be tired after the full day you’ve put in here at Falcon’s Lair. Thank you for taking so much time with me.”
The woman glanced down at her hand, then up into Felicity’s eyes, all the while pursing her lips in a tight, thoughtful line. “I am never too weary to talk to anyone who truly cares about those who dwell at Falcon’s Lair.” She seemed to consider for a moment, then gave voice to her thoughts. “If you wish to learn more, there is a book. ‘Tis old and dusty and difficult to read, since it is handwritten. It is the history of Falcon’s Lair, and it resides on the highest shelf in the library, beside the family Bible. Few save me know of its existence.”
Was that a spark of…friendship in the older woman’s eyes? Felicity could have hugged her. Maud Atherton turned away, and within minutes Felicity was alone, with the portraits of all the lords of Falcon’s Lair staring down at her.
It was that rare hour between darkness and dawn. A soft pearl mist seemed to cover the land. The world was at rest.
Felicity sat on a stone bench in the garden, poring over the pages of the Falcon family history. Just as Maud Atherton had promised, it was all here. Births, deaths, wars. Those who had loved. Those who had lost. Recorded by those who had lived here and had witnessed it all firsthand.
As she turned another page she felt the heat. It seemed to shimmer in waves, until she was forced to lower her shawl.
