Darby gladly moved from the room, abandoning Evelyn in her haste to flee Uncle Richard. She and Alexander threaded their way through the packed bodies in the hall, Darby pausing every now and then to allow a gentleman to sign her dance card. Finally, they made their way into the conservatory, which had been cleared of all but its most decorative plants, and onto the dance floor.
The orchestra began with a waltz. How pleasant to be guided across the marble by her handsome brother, to see the circle of their friends lining the walls, watching them as they spun around and around. To think that she and Alexander were adults at last! Truly they had not been children for years, but now it was official.
Brightings was theirs. The thought led to other, darker ones.
“Have you spoken with Lenora yet?” she asked.
“There has not been the time. Are you going to scold me again about it?”
“No. Only ask her to tell you of her life with Reece before making your offer. Will you do that?”
“I shall do no such thing,” he said resentfully. “Did you enjoy the entertainment? Lenora provided the children’s uniforms.”
“It was quite wonderful.” Darby opened her mouth to say more, but then closed it. She did not want to destroy the pleasure of this dance, and besides, other couples were drifting onto the floor and they had no privacy. Her unease deepened as she looked for Simon and could not find him. Surely he was done with the children. Surely he did not disapprove of waltzing, and she would be granted at least one dance with her angel this evening.
And then she spied him in the doorway, his fair head taller than anyone’s in the crowd. His eyes searched the room for her; she had no doubt he was looking for anyone else. She watched him, willing him to glance her way. And at last, he did.
So intent was she on following his progress through the twirling couples, she tromped on Alexander’s feet. He exclaimed in pain, then annoyance when Simon tapped his shoulder.
“May I?” Simon asked over his protests.
“I should think not,” began Alexander, but when he saw Darby’s look of appeal, he relented. “Oh, very well, I suppose you deserve a dance after all your hard work. But watch her; she’ll bruise your feet.”
Simon stared into her eyes. “I’ll more likely bruise hers,” he said.
Darby made no reply; she was too lost in the feeling of his arms around her. As they swept into the swirling stream, she did not dance; she floated. He guided her expertly, and neither one of them tread on the other’s toes.
“The children were charming,” she said. “You’ve accomplished an extraordinary amount with them.”
“All I did was teach them a few songs. They seem to enjoy the sound of music.” He laughed inexplicably, then added, “It was mostly Lenora who taught them their letters and reading. I’m hoping the exhibition will impress some of your fellow manufacturers into giving their child labourers the same chance.”
“As to that, I cannot say; but I assure you I’m convinced.’’
He gave her a warm look. “Do you mean ...”
“Yes. I want to continue the school. I only worry about its direction. If you do decide to remain, as you have hinted you might, would you be interested in the position?”
Simon whisked her around several times, and she felt herself growing dizzy. “If you still want me after tonight, I’d be very interested.”
He was referring to their upcoming talk, of course. She pushed the thought aside; it made her too edgy to contemplate. “I didn’t know angels danced so well.”
“I’ve taken a few lessons in my time,” he admitted with a grin. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
She blushed with pleasure. “No, but perhaps you shouldn’t. I may come to think you regard me with ... special favor.”
His hand tightened on hers. “If you don’t know that by now, you’re blind.”
“Oh, Simon.” Disturbed, she locked gazes with him, then, caring nothing for what anyone might think, pressed closer to his chest. She could feel his heart racing, pounding beneath his jacket. She looked up worriedly. “Simon? Are we in very great trouble?”
“I hope not,” he said grimly. Then, seeing her fearful expression, he drew her near again and rested his cheek on the top of her head, speaking softly. “Remember that I want to talk with you after the ball. And remember— remember that no matter what happens, I love you. Everything I have ever done since we met is because I love you. Do you hear me, Darby Brightings? Do you promise to try and understand?”
She understood only one thing: He loved her. Although she had been sure of it for weeks, he had never put his feelings into words. She wanted to see his eyes, longed to cherish this frightening, wonderful, terrible moment with all her senses, but he gripped her too tightly. Her imagination staggered, trembled at what he meant to reveal tonight, but he loved her; her angel loved her!
And so far, lightning had not struck.
“Do you promise?” Simon demanded a second time.
“I promise,” she said, speaking into his jacket. “I love—”
“No,” he interrupted quickly. “Don’t say anything more until we talk.”
Feeling a little miffed, she nodded. And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw her uncle approaching. “Oh, no. Uncle Richard is trying to stop me from telling Alex about Lenora. Simon, she has not told him of her past, and my brother plans to ask her for her hand tonight!”
Simon swept her in the opposite direction from her uncle. “Do you plan to tell Alexander, then?”
“Certainly I do, if she will not.”
“Oh.”
His arms loosened a bit, and she leaned back and regarded his disappointment with a frown. “You disapprove. But you don’t forbid me, do you?”
He moistened his lips. She sensed great conflicts warring within him, but he said only, “You should do what your heart tells you, Darby.”
This served to make her feel worse, but only for an instant; her brother’s happiness was too important. And still Uncle Richard pursued her, trailing like a hound; once more Simon twirled her away.
“Stay beside me,” he said. “Don’t leave me tonight; not for one minute.”
She could not help laughing at his sudden possessiveness. “But, Simon—I’ll have to dance with the gentlemen who have signed my card. And if we dance together more than once, we’ll cause talk.”
“We will? Oh. Well, don’t leave this room, then. When it’s time for supper, wait for me.”
Darby agreed as the waltz concluded, and they broke apart. When the orchestra began another selection, Uncle Richard claimed her arm and demanded the next dance. Although the glassmaker’s son came at the same moment to declare the second waltz was his, Uncle Richard waved him away and spun Darby onto the floor.
“Have you told him yet, m’girl?” he puffed, already winded.
“No, not that it’s any concern of yours, Uncle.”
“Ho, is it not? I’d like to know who is more concerned than meself. M’daughter’s well-being means all to me.”
Darby narrowed her eyes. “Are you certain it is not your well-being that concerns you?”
“You are still a child.” He began turning her in wider circles, drawing near the doors to the back terrace. “What can a girl know of a father’s love?”
“Here, where are we going?”
“Just outside for a bit. I need to speak with you while I still have breath in my body.”
She looked across the dancers and spotted Simon standing against the wall, watching her. Shrugging helplessly, she allowed her partner to sweep her out the door. Short of causing a scene, there was nothing else she could do. But she would not have to endure her uncle long; Simon was coming toward them with high alarm in his eyes. Why? Did he imagine Lenora’s father would harm her? Uncle Richard? How laughable.
Her uncle was pulling her down the steps and away from the conservatory’s windows. “Truly, this is far enough,” she said petulantly. “Say what you have to
say now, and allow me to go back to my guests.”
“Order me about, will you?” he shot, his expression turning livid. “I’ve never seen a woman more forgetful of her place.”
“You forget your place!” she said vehemently, pulling against his grip, which felt like iron. “Are you mad?”
They were beneath the trees now, and he pushed her against a spruce and held her there. Seeing the fury in his eyes, she grew suddenly still and very cold.
“I’ve endured your orders and jibes and snobbery for years! God knows I never knew when I might find a frog in m’bed or a spider in m’slipper! And now, to see you toss that scorn at Lenora, after all she’s lived through! I’ll not have you ruin it for her. Let your brother speak tonight. Let him announce it to the world! Then you may say anything, and he’ll be too proud to back down!”
Over Uncle Richard’s shoulder, Darby could see Simon running toward them, and someone else she could not make out behind him. Emboldened by their approach, she said, “I would never do that to him. If you truly love your daughter, you can imagine what I feel for my brother.”
He seemed only to hear her refusal, not her reasoning. His face burned scarlet in rage, and he raised his fist to strike her. She watched helplessly, stricken with terror, then squeezed her eyes shut. But the blow never landed; Simon leapt upon the older man and toppled him to the ground.
Darby jumped aside. For seconds her thoughts were so jumbled that she could not sort out the tangled arms and legs flailing across the ground. Then she saw that Simon straddled Uncle Richard’s chest and pounded blow after blow into his face. Her uncle had no strength to fight back; his hands were crossed over his head defensively while he groaned.
“Simon, stop!” she cried. “You are killing him!”
He did not pause. “I intend to!”
“No, no, you must not!” She looked up helplessly and saw Claude running toward them, a cane tucked beneath his arm. Darby recognized it as her gift. “Make them stop!” she begged.
Claude pulled at Simon’s shoulder. “Stop!” he commanded, and shouted when he was flung aside. Looking wild, he pushed the button on Darby’s walking stick and extended it behind Simon. “If you don’t stop, Garrett, I’ll stab you!”
“No, do not!” Darby cried.
At the sound of her panic, Simon turned abruptly. Claude, perhaps seeing the movement as a threat, plunged the blade very far into his shoulder. Darby covered her mouth in horror. There was a long, taut moment while Simon turned bewildered eyes upon Claude, who looked utterly dismayed.
“Sorry, old man, didn’t mean it,” he said, and pulled.
As the blade exited, Simon went very pale. He crawled off Uncle Richard and sat in the grass cradling his elbow and staring at the reddening slit in his sleeve. Darby rushed to his side and extended her fingers toward the wound, then drew back. She pressed her handkerchief to it, but the cloth soon became soaked and useless.
“Thank God, thank God,” Uncle Richard mumbled, and slid to the tree and propped himself against it. He brought a handkerchief to his face and blotted at the blood trickling from his nose. “The idiot was trying to kill me. Broke a tooth, he did.”
“Are you all right, Simon?” whispered Darby, who was not as worried as she would be were her angel human. “Can’t you heal yourself, or are you so injured you’ll have to abandon this mortal body?”
How she hoped not, for she truly liked this one. Simon looked at her as if he could not understand what she was saying. She heard footsteps and turned to see Alexander and Lenora trotting toward them.
“Darby, are you hurt?” Alexander asked, kneeling beside her. After determining she was all right, he turned to Simon, noticed his injury and blanched.
“Papa!” Lenora exclaimed at almost the same time. “What has happened here?” She looked from one silent man to the other. Seeing the gaping wound in Simon’s arm, she cried out, “Not again, Papa! You vowed it would never happen again!”
“What would never happen again?” asked Alexander, looking back and forth between his sweetheart and his uncle.
“Oh, Lenora,” Claude said, and sighed. “What have you done?”
“What?” Alexander demanded. “What are all of you going on about?” Into the sudden silence, Simon groaned and slumped to the grass. “Wait. Our actor’s bleeding like a fountain. Claude, fetch the surgeon. He’s in the parlor, I think, playing cards—his name’s Groat. After Simon’s taken care of, I want a full explanation.” When Claude dashed off, Alexander placed his hand on Darby’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, old girl. It doesn’t look good.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be all right,” she said confidently, stroking a lock of hair from Simon’s eyes. “He is very ... special.’’
Alexander patted her back. “That’s the trick; you’re the stronger one of us and always have been.”
Darby lifted her eyebrows at her brother’s fussing and smiled faintly at Simon. When her angel did not respond but merely watched her with stunned eyes, she felt her first flash of true alarm. “You’re in pain. Can you not make it stop?”
Alexander looked at her sharply. “Did you ask him to stop his own pain? Don’t go weak-headed on me now, sister.”
“But you don’t understand!” She touched Simon’s hand thoughtlessly, then pulled back. Her fingertips were crimson with his blood. She held them before her eyes, then focused on Simon again. “Do something, won’t you? Don’t lie there bleeding your life away!”
“Can you hear yourself?” Alexander tugged her shoulders, trying to urge her away. “Leave the poor fellow in peace, won’t you?”
Darby jerked herself free and leaned closely to her angel’s face. “Simon ... Simon ...”
Her tears began to mingle with the blood spreading across his coat. Simon was breathing shakily, trying to say something. Careful not to disturb his wound, she lay her head on his chest and listened to the beating of his heart. It was very important that she hear his heart.
“Darby,” he whispered. “What I was going to tell you. I’m ...” His lips trembled. “I’m not ... an angel. Never have been ... never ... will be. I’m ... sorry.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze without expression, though her stomach churned with more emotions than she could name. Her heart was shattering into a thousand pieces like a defective plate. And still Simon’s blood ran into the earth like scarlet rain.
Chapter Fourteen
I’m dead, decided Simon, slowly coming to awareness in a room dark enough to be a crypt. So that’s how the universe balances itself; a life for a life. At least Darby didn’t die.
Or did she?
Anxiety coursed through his veins. He tried to sit up, but his head barely lifted from the pillow, and even that small effort set his shoulder on fire. Feeling pain must mean he wasn’t dead after all; at least he hoped so. He moved his feet beneath the sheets, murmuring in frustration.
He heard a chair creaking somewhere in the darkness, then scratching sounds and the unmistakable noise of a flame igniting. A candle glowed to life, painting the room—his bedroom at Brightings, he saw—with faint light that now grew closer. He squinted to see the identity of the shadowy figure behind it.
“Darby, thank God you’re safe,” he said, then blinked at the thin, rusty sound of his voice.
“What an odd thing to say when it is you who lies abed.”
She placed the candle on his nightstand and pressed her hand to his forehead. “There is no fever.” Pulling his blanket back a little, she checked his wound. “And no further bleeding. The surgeon said you have a strong constitution.” She measured a spoonful of something into a glass of water and began stirring it. “A strong constitution is a good thing to have. Especially for a man.”
Her words fell like icicles, and she would not meet his eyes. He watched her, his spirits lowering by the second. He noticed she no longer wore her birthday gown but a plain brown one.
“Have you been here all night?” he asked meekly. “Or is t
his even the same night? What day is it?”
She smiled without amusement. “It is four-thirty on the morning of June eleven. You are more concerned with the calendar than anyone I’ve ever known. I shall always remember that about you.”
Her words had the ring of finality, but he was determined to savour his victory anyway. “And you’re alive,” he said, reaching for her hand with his uninjured arm. “It’s the day after your birthday, and you’re alive!”
“Naturally I am.” She snatched her hand away and brought the glass to his lips, lifting the back of his head to meet it. “Here, drink this. It will make you sleep, and you need rest, as do I.”
He turned his head away. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk. What happened to Lightner after I passed out? What was Lenora saying?”
She replaced the glass on the table. “Very well, since you prevented my uncle’s striking me, perhaps I owe you that much. I must say I’m grateful to you for your protection and am sorry you were hurt because of it. We are now a household in uproar. Uncle Richard has been handed into the magistrate’s keeping, and Alex has thrown Claude from the house. Lenora told all after you were brought inside and the guests left. It seems her father pushed Reece from the hotel window, and Claude saw him.”
He was silent a moment, digesting this. “So Heathershaw had been blackmailing him?”
“Claude didn’t call it that. He said he never asked for money, only for a home with his beloved friends.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“And poor Lenora had to put up with him because she didn’t want to lose her father.” He grunted. “I’m amazed Gacia was able to keep the secret.”
“She didn’t know. She was napping at the time of the murder, and none of the others told her what really happened. Last night she became very distraught on learning her husband would have to undergo a trial.” Darby’s lips twisted wryly. “She recovered remarkably when I assured her she could stay with us as long as she needs.”
He paused, afraid to ask; but he had to know. “And Lenora?”
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