Adriana jumped. She hadn’t even heard him come into the room.
Lord Byron stood. “Lord Devaux, what a pleasant surprise. I was just...”
“Giving my ward the money earned by her paintings?” her guardian finished.
“This is my money,” Adriana said, standing.
Lord Devaux snatched the purse out of her hand. “Any money you earn, my dear, is rightfully mine. And it’s about time you began to pay me back for the hospitality I’ve shown you for the past fourteen years.” He turned to Lord Byron who looked as dumbfounded as Adriana felt. “My lord,” he gave Lord Byron a slight nod of his head. “From now on, all money from Sir William can be delivered directly to me.” He turned and started out of the room.
“I say, Lord Devaux, that’s not right...” Lord Byron began. His shock now turned to anger on Adriana’s behalf.
“I beg your pardon?” Lord Devaux said, slowly turning back around.
“That money belongs to Miss Hayden. She earned it with her work.”
Lord Devaux cocked his head to the side just a touch. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but seeing as Miss Hayden is my ward, any money she earns is rightfully, and legally, mine. And I would appreciate you staying out of my business.” Once again he gave a slight nod of his head. “Good day to you.”
Adriana sank back down onto the sofa as Lord Devaux closed the door as he left the room.
Gone. It was all gone. Her freedom had just been taken out of the room in Lord Devaux’s pocket. It had been her last hope. Her only hope. And now it was gone.
There weren’t tears for how she felt. She had spent them all on Morgan, anyhow. No, now there was nothing, nothing at all.
The warmth of Lord Byron’s hand on her own hardly registered, but she did look up into his intense eyes. “Miss Hayden. I don’t know what to say.”
Adriana shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she said with difficulty.
“But it is. If I had only known he would...”
“No, you couldn’t have known. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. My work is gone. There is nothing left.”
“No, please don’t say that. You’ll come around. You’ll see, it will work out.”
“No, my lord. That is exceedingly kind, but I don’t think it will. I just don’t know...” her voice trailed off and she knew how she sounded, but just as this moment she didn’t care. She just wanted to curl up in her bed and stay there.
Morgan was gone from her life, and now her work—all of her beautiful paintings, her life’s work—they were all gone and she would get nothing for them.
“Miss Hayden, I am so sorry,” Lord Byron said again just before he closed the door behind himself.
<><><>
Adriana worked feverishly.
For the two nights since Lord Devaux had allowed her to paint again, now in the hopes that she would earn money for him, she hadn’t been able to sleep properly. For two nights she had done little else but toss and turn in her bed.
When she did finally sleep, her dreams were too vivid for her to truly get any rest. There were unending images of Morgan, his arms wrapped around another woman, kissing her passionately. Sometimes she would wake up crying. Sometimes she would wake up and just lie there like a stone in her bed, feeling nothing. She didn’t know which was worse.
But there was another other dream too—it wasn’t so disturbing as the first, but just as vivid. It was this dream she was painting now.
Yes, her conscience pricked her as she used the canvas and paints bought for her so she could complete a work commissioned at the exhibition—but she had no choice. This image from her dream just had to be painted. And she would not rest until it was finished.
Twice this morning, Henrietta tried to cajole her into coming down for a meal, but she would not, she could not. Not until the painting was done.
Her companion now stood beside her, wringing her hands. “But really, Adriana, you can’t just stay here the whole day working on this painting.”
“Henrietta, please. Lord Devaux has allowed me to paint, so that is what I am doing,” Adriana said, not even bothering to put down her paintbrush or even turn away from her painting. There was something about this painting that demanded her complete devotion. “When I am done, I will come down, I promise. Just a few more hours, and then I’ll be finished. Just give me a few more hours.”
She heard the door click behind her as Henrietta left again with a sigh. Adriana didn’t know what this place was that she was painting. She didn’t know where it was, or its significance, but it was there in her mind and it had to get out and onto her canvas. That was all she knew. It was all she could do for now.
It was nearing four o’clock when she finally finished. She was dropping with fatigue, but it was done.
Collapsing on to the sofa behind her, she reached for a piece of the bread and meat that Henrietta had left for her to eat hours ago. Nibbling at her food, she examined the painting that had consumed her.
The focus of the painting was a circle of standing stones. Some had horizontal stones perched precariously upon others forming doorways, others stood as sentry forming the curve of the circle. A full moon shone pale in the deep blue of the night, making the stones glow with an almost otherworldly grace. It was a place filled with magic and mystery.
Fear and joy, but most of all awe, filled the picture. It was almost as if you knew that something great was about to happen here. Shadows on the ground gave the impression of people, cloaked and waiting to come out from behind the stones. They were waiting to come through the doorways, to enter the sacred circle. Waiting for just the right moment, when the moon would be at its peak, waiting for the stroke of midnight.
The anticipation of that moment made Adriana lean forward. She knew it was about to happen, she could see it, feel it. She could almost hear the rustling of the grass as the people stood anxiously waiting and yet, and yet... it was a painting. Nothing was really going to happen.
Almost incongruously was a pack of wolves off in the lower right hand corner of the painting. They stood glaring at the standing stones amidst a stand of trees. Some stood with teeth bared. Each was ready to pounce and attack at any moment. The moon–shadows hung around them. The closeness of the trees made it impossible to tell just how many animals there were. No matter—they were menacing. More menacing and frightening than anything, Adriana gave a small shiver as she sat there looking at them.
Sitting back and taking another bite of her bread, she realized what had to be done.
With her mouth still full, she went running from the room. “Henrietta! Henrietta!” she called as she ran down the stairs. Where was she?
Her companion came rushing from the upstairs sitting room. “What is it? Adriana, are you all right? What’s wrong?”
Adriana pulled Henrietta back into the sitting room and then took a moment to catch her breath and swallow her food.
“Just calm down, dear, it’s all right, just relax,” Henrietta said patting her hand comfortingly.
Adriana took a deep breath. “I need you to go out. I need you to deliver that painting to Morgan—to Mr. Vallentyn.”
“What? After all that’s happened? Didn’t you say you never wanted to speak with him or see him ever again?” Henrietta was now the one becoming agitated, and Adriana wished she’d never told her companion all that had happened.
“Yes, but it is vitally important. Please, Henrietta, you must go. If you don’t...” Adriana steeled herself, “If you don’t go and take it to him, I will. And I truly mean it. This painting has got to be given to him. No matter what he has done. No matter what I have said. He has to get this painting.”
Henrietta just stood, looking at her as if she had completely lost her mind, and to be honest, she wasn’t entirely certain that she hadn’t.
“Please?” she asked again.
Finally, shaking her head sadly, Henrietta said, “Very well, but only to keep you away from him. If he must have it, I will br
ing it to him.”
Adriana pulled her companion into a hug. “Thank you!”
<><><>
“Morgan, you can’t go,” Cosmina said, sounding more like a coaxing mother than ever before. “Truly, my dear, it isn’t the right thing to do. You know this.”
“No really, Mr. Vallentyn. She is right this time, you cannot simply leave,” Nestor said, adding his voice to Cosmina’s.
“Well, I am glad to see you two finally in agreement on something,” Morgan laughed forcibly, hardly pausing in his packing. There was no humor in his laughter, however, no place for happiness in his heart.
“Yes, on this we definitely agree. You cannot allow Miss Hayden to drive you from London. There are many more young ladies. She is not the end of the world, my dear,” Cosmina said. “I am certain if you put your mind to it, or perhaps attend another fancy ball, you’ll find someone else just as...”
“Cosmina,” Morgan said warningly. “There is no one who could ever replace Adriana. There never could be.”
“Well, no of course not,” she said, quickly retracing her steps. “But there will be others.”
“No. Not for me.”
“Then don’t think about the young lady, sir,” Nestor said. “Think about your powers. How are you going to find out what your powers are and where they have come from? You still haven’t found a satisfactory answer.”
Morgan stopped what he was doing and straightened up. “I don’t know about that, Nestor. I don’t know if I have found the answer or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what Jack the Lad said. He told me the powers had to have come from inside of me. And I do believe he is right. I’ve probably had these magical powers my whole life, but something, somehow, triggered them into coming out.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know. My growing confidence, maybe? I can tell you, I have a great deal more self–confidence now than I ever had in my life.”
“And did you get that confidence first before any of your new powers began to show themselves?”
Morgan sighed. “I don’t...”
A knock on the door interrupted him. “There is a lady to see you, Mr. Vallentyn. She’s downstairs in the drawing room,” the maid announced, after Morgan had opened the door.
“And it’s not the young lady who’s come to see you before, either. It’s someone new, and not so young. And she’s got something with her,” the girl said, very mysteriously.
Morgan gave Nestor and Cosmina a surprised look, then went downstairs to find out who this new woman was.
Adriana’s companion was sitting at the edge of the sofa when Morgan came in, followed immediately by Nestor and Cosmina. She stood up and give him a hint of a curtsey, but no smile.
Picking up a good sized package, she handed it to Morgan. “Miss Hayden asked me to deliver this to you.”
Morgan’s heart lifted. “Adriana did?”
“Yes,” she said, her mouth in a straight disapproving line.
Adriana had thought of him! She had thought to send him a gift? Morgan was so overwhelmed with relief and with happiness, he could hardly move for a minute. She still thought of him. She still cared! His heart soared.
Morgan quickly tore the paper from the package and found the most lovely painting. It was beautiful and magical. As he looked at it, Morgan’s heart began to race.
He had dreamed this! Last night, and the night before. He had dreamed of this place, of this very scene. The moonlight and the stones...
“Stonehenge!”
Morgan spun around to face Nestor. “Stonehenge? What is that?”
Nestor pointed at the painting. “That’s what that is, in the painting. It’s Stonehenge.”
Morgan shook his head, not comprehending. Nestor explained. “It’s an ancient circle of stones. No one knows who built it. Some say it was the druids. But all I know is that it is...”
“It is a place of magic,” Cosmina finished for him.
“Yes,” Nestor said, looking a little put out that she had finished his sentence.
“I’ve been there,” Cosmina said.
Morgan turned to look at her, standing beside him. “You know this place?”
“Yes, but that isn’t there,” she said, pointing at a small copse of trees in the lower corner of the painting. “Stonehenge is in the middle of a large field. There are no trees nearby. And I don’t like the look of those wolves,” she added as an afterthought.
Morgan looked more closely. There were rather nasty looking wolves there. “Has Adriana ever been here?” he asked Henrietta.
“No!” she answered her eyes widening.
“Are you certain?” Nestor asked.
“Absolutely,” the woman responded straightening herself as if affronted by the question.
“Then how did she paint this?” Cosmina asked.
The woman deflated a bit. “I, I don’t know.”
Morgan knew however. She must have had the same dream he’d been having. It was the only answer. And it made a great deal of sense now that he saw it. This painting was filled with magic. Real magic! Just as there was magic in everything that Adriana drew or painted. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.
Adriana was Vallen! Not only that, but they were meant to be together. Morgan knew it with a certainty—and Adriana probably did too, otherwise she wouldn’t have sent him the painting.
There was such a rush of good feelings, love and... Morgan searched around in his mind to name this feeling coursing through his veins. It was... magic. Strong, empowering magic.
He turned back to Nestor. “Do you feel it?” he asked, knowing that his friend would know exactly what he was talking about.
Nestor looked at the painting, and then nodded his head. “Yes.” He then paused and asked, “Do you think...”
“Yes. She must be!” Morgan turned back to Henrietta. He didn’t wish to say anything in front of her, just in case she didn’t know anything about the Vallen.
But the thought that Adriana had recognized the magic and the importance in this painting... it made everything, absolutely everything, fit into place.
“Please thank Adriana for me. This is very special. And that she thought of me... well, please tell her I am touched. And...” Morgan thought to choose his words very carefully. “Tell her this painting means as much to me as she does. I think she will understand.”
With a harrumph of disbelief or just disgruntlement, Adriana’s companion bobbed him a curtsey and left.
Morgan looked back at the painting. Staring deeper into it, he could feel the chill of the night air, smell the fresh grass of the field all around and even sense the age of the stones. It was almost as if he were there, standing in the center of this magnificent structure. He could feel it.
There were others there as well. Standing in the shadows were other Vallen. They all seemed to be excited, happy in their anticipation of the night.
But, even as Morgan looked around and reached out with all of his senses, he knew there was something missing. There was something wrong. He needed something more that he just didn’t have and without that, the evening would be wasted.
There was something more that he needed before he could attain his destiny.
“... are disturbing,” Cosmina was saying when Morgan pulled himself back from the painting.
He didn’t know what it was that she found disturbing, but it didn’t matter. He knew what he had to do.
Thirty Three
Morgan!” Vallentyn said, with as much shock at seeing him as Morgan felt at meeting his brother.
“Hello, Vallentyn,” Morgan said, taking his brother’s hand. He had changed, Morgan thought. He was definitely looking older. It was odd, but he supposed he hadn’t seen his brother for a number of years now, despite living on the same estate. Only Vallentyn never came to visit him in the woods, and Morgan had never been able to leave them.
His brother l
ooked around the nearly deserted room nervously. Morgan had never been inside a gentleman’s club before, but when Nestor discovered this was where his brother was this, and every, afternoon, they had decided that it was much easier for Morgan to meet Vallentyn here than risk seeing his mother if he had gone to Vallentyn House.
The room they were in was large, but where they were, near the back wall in one of the many small clusters of chairs scattered about the room, there was a feeling of privacy.
“Please sit down,” Vallentyn said, gesturing to the chair next to the one he had just vacated. “Would you like some brandy or port?” he asked, raising a finger to call the footman who was hovering nearby, but not so close that he could hear their conversation.
“No, thank you.”
“Oh.”
The footman placed a tray with two bottles and two glasses on the table at the edge of their little area. Vallentyn walked over and helped himself with a slightly shaking hand.
“Did you go to the house?” he asked, after taking a liberal gulp of his wine.
“No. A friend of mine went for me to see if you were home. He learned you were here,” Morgan reassured his brother.
“So she doesn’t know that we’re meeting?”
“No.” Morgan didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was. He was certain his brother was just as terrified of their mother as he had been until very recently.
Vallentyn gave an almost inaudible sigh of relief before sitting back in his chair and taking another sip of his drink.
“So, how have you been?” Vallentyn asked awkwardly.
“Well, thank you,” Morgan answered, just as uncomfortable. They had never really spoken much to each other, even when Morgan lived in the abbey. Vallentyn had always been out, seeing to the estate—or, perhaps, as Morgan had always imagined, avoiding their mother.
“Well, it’s quite something to see you here in London. How did you manage to escape the woods and Mother’s curses?”
“My powers have increased,” Morgan answered simply.
“Ah, yes, so I heard. Mother was quite furious, you know.”
Magic In The Storm Page 29
