Secret Pleasures

by Cheryl Howe

  “His heart beat flutters uncontrollably with the least bit of upset. Your father knew of his condition and insisted on this foolishness with the wedding. The earl is a very ill man. If not for his strong constitution, he’d have been gone long before this time.”

  Darien studied his father’s slack features. Westhaven had always seemed invincible. His father would not give up now. Especially if he believed Philip’s killer was trussed up in the other room.

  “He’ll wake up.” Darien planned to be right by his side when he did.

  Please don’t feign shock, my dearest little brother. I expected as much from our father, but not from you.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The butler escorted Ivy up the Gothic staircase dominating the front hall. A monster of dark, intricately carved walnut wound up to the second floor in hard angles. Ivy managed to grip her skirt with the same hand she used to guide herself along the oversized railing. Servants interrupted them regularly, usually two at a time, and offered to take Melody from her.

  Ivy would have been concerned that they’d been enlisted by the earl if they hadn’t seemed even more pleased when Ivy politely refused their assistance. After cooing over Melody, they commented on her resemblance to her father and her luck to have such a devoted mother. Once again, Ivy’s reputation preceded her no doubt thanks to Evelyn and her daughter.

  Melody happily accepted the attention as her due. The idea filled Ivy with a mixture of pride and grief. How could she think for one moment she could deny Melody her birthright? The servants recognized her easily enough and so would the other Blackmores. But would they accept her into their family?

  They reached the second floor landing and turned into a long hall streaked with the multi-hued rays of the setting sun. Peach-and-caramel-colored tiles reflected the burnished light from floor-to-ceiling windows. The long gallery was lined with gold-handled doors, marble busts on wooden pedestals and large paintings Ivy could not yet see. A chandelier in the center of it all captured the fading spectacle then spilled it like fairy dust.

  Melody caught her breath in what sounded like baby awe and blinked. She squinted against the light, her red face showing her sudden displeasure. Ivy shielded Melody’s eyes with her palm before she ruined her angelic first impression. Melody’s initial frown flipped to a grin. She laughed and kicked her legs.

  “The sun gallery is the estate’s newest edition. Our late mistress designed it to cheer her, but she never had the chance to see it completed. Lady Melody seems to find it to her satisfaction.”

  Ivy turned to the unfamiliar voice to find the butler gazing down at Melody. He’d been completely silent and stone-faced while the other servants made their introductions. The corners of his lips twitched and Ivy suspected he smiled.

  He bowed, suddenly, remembering himself. “Forgive me, madam. Lady Westhaven is sorely missed by the household.”

  Arianna suddenly stood from a bench seat tucked into one of the windows, no doubt alerted by their presence. Before Ivy could respond to the butler’s comment or thank him for his assistance, he bowed once again and disappeared down the hall. She turned back to Arianna. Her expression urged Ivy to rush to her side.

  Arianna must have seen the distress her tear-stained face caused and wiped at her eyes. “He has a fever.”

  Ivy nodded with understanding. “May I see him?”

  “His mother is with him now.” Arianna directed Ivy to the closed door closest to where they were standing. “Go in. I’m sure Mrs. Fitzgerald would welcome the company. I’ll hold Melody.”

  “She can be fussy.” Ivy gripped her daughter, irrationally afraid someone would steal her from her and lock her in one of the mansion’s many rooms. How would Ivy ever find her again?

  Both she and Arianna stared down at Melody’s wide, happy eyes.

  The door abruptly opened.

  “He’s asking for you, Arianna.” Lily Fitzgerald blinked at Ivy standing next to Arianna. She rubbed her weary features.

  Ivy adjusted Melody to her shoulder and rearranged her blanket to cover her face. Introducing Melody to Darien’s sister had not been a concern until now.

  “He’s awake.” Arianna’s obvious excitement caused Lily to smile sadly, and blink back what Ivy now realized were tears.

  “No, he’s delirious.” Lily’s voice was rough but steady. “He’s mumbling your name. I think your presence might calm him.”

  Arianna strode to the door without a backward glance.

  Lily watched Arianna disappear into the room, then stared at the closed door with a frown that drew down her entire face.

  “Ivy, I fear …” She turned to face Ivy, really looking at her for the first time since she exited her son’s sickroom. “Why…you’re holding a baby?”

  She came to stand beside Ivy and slipped the blanket away from Melody’s face. She studied her in wide-eyed fascination.

  “She is beautiful. May I hold her? Please.” Lily Fitzgerald’s tired eyes flooded with her unshed tears.

  Ivy sighed and handed her Melody. How could she not if it would distract Robert’s mother from her sorrow for even a moment.

  “She looks so much like Darien. Why did no one tell me?” She cradled Melody, rocking her in her arms, laughing and crying simultaneously. Melody’s expression changed with each of her aunt’s wavering emotions.

  “Under the circumstances, I thought it best to let her existence remain a secret.” Ivy would allow Lily to choose whichever unfavorable circumstance she wished.

  “Never. She must be part of the family. She must.” Lily cradled Melody closer to her breast. “My mother would have loved to have held Darien’s child. She never had the opportunity to hold any of mine. What is her name?”

  “Melody. You must be exhausted, Lily. Allow me to take her from you. She’s frowning. That’s the face she makes when she’s soiled her diaper.” Ivy gently took the baby back.

  “Melody,” Lily sang, proving she had not been neglected in inheriting her mother’s musical ability. “Lady Melody Blackmore. What a perfect name. Who thought of it? You or Darien?”

  “A mutual friend, though inspired by Darien’s musical gifts, of course. Oh, dear. Do you smell something odorous? If you would be so kind to direct me to a room, I’ll change her.” Ivy reached for Melody. “This might not be the best time to make introductions.”

  “This little one has the scent of springtime but let’s see for sure.” Lily whisked Melody from Ivy’s grasp and sat on the bench window seat. She laid Melody on her lap, unwrapped her blanket and buried her face into her belly. “She’s clean and dry. What a beautiful child. You’ve done such a fine job, Ivy.”

  Melody giggled and a healthy blush stained her cheeks and limbs. Ivy noticed she had put on more weight. Despite her discomfort, Ivy could not help but be proud of her contribution to Melody’s vibrant health.

  “What a charmer you are.” Melody’s grin widened at her aunt’s coaxing. “She’s got that mischievous look in her eyes, like Darien. Melody will bring so much joy to this family. I just know it.”

  “I don’t think every member of the family will agree.”

  “I could take her to Ireland.” Lily tore her gaze away from Melody to glance up at Ivy. “Raise her as my own. No one would know the difference. Darien will eventually be the earl whether he likes it or not. He could be her escort into society as any father would.”

  “She’s my daughter, and I don’t intend to give her up.” Ivy stiffened.

  “But she’s a Blackmore. She must be raised according to her birth. She must meet the right people.”

  “She’s illegitimate,” Ivy said desperately.

  “But that’s not how it has to be, you know? I can arrange everything so no one is the wiser.”

  “No. She is Darien’s daughter also. I don’t think he would wish to be separated anymore than I.” Ivy was finally relieved that she had actually told Darien the truth.

  “And you two will introduce her to the world as a bastard
when it does not have to be so? Do you think that’s fair to your child?”

  Ivy shook her head. “I think the love of her parents is more important.”

  “Do you? Is that something you learned over the years? I would have wagered otherwise.”

  Ivy could not find the words to argue. She just wanted Melody back in her arms.

  “I won’t give up my daughter.”

  “But you said you believed in the power of love. And love for a child is something one would do anything for. I think you’ve already discovered that.” Lily handed Ivy her daughter. “She is lovely, and I know you will do what is in her best interest. We all are doing what’s in our loved one’s best interest. Henry Maddox is a formidable man who can cause everyone in this household unheard-of grief.”

  Lily stood. “Excuse me. I must fetch some cool water and fresh clothes for Robert. Perhaps now would not be the best time for Robert to meet his cousin, but when he wakes, I know he will be as happy as I to make her acquaintance.”

  Lily did not wait for her response, just opened one of the many doors facing the hall and disappeared by what Ivy glimpsed as a back staircase.

  Ivy gathered Melody’s blanket around her, proceeding the way she came. She would march out the front door and never return. Ivy would sail to America alone before she would let anyone take Melody away from her.

  ***

  Dawn crept beneath closed, heavy velvet curtains, signaling the end of Darien’s all-night vigil. The candles burned low and the fire had ebbed in the grate. Darien stood and stretched. His father had not awakened and he feared he never would.

  The sense of hollow loss was surprisingly acute. He’d not learned the truth from his father. His passing would not dull that old hurt one bit, but would just heap more on top. Darien had convinced himself that his father had become dead to him long ago. Too late, he discovered he was wrong.

  Darien needed to find Ivy and Melody and take them home. He’d already asked a servant who’d delivered more wood to keep the fire roaring hot, to find them a room for the night. Knowing the well-oiled workings of the staff, he was sure the butler had put them in his old suite of rooms. Even though his childhood apartment was finer and larger than Darien’s current stone dwelling, he wanted his family to be under his own humble roof.

  His father remained still, his sheet hardly rumpled. Darien paused by the bed to grip his father’s hand before he left. Thank God it was still warm.

  His father’s eyes flickered open, and it seemed to take him an inordinately long time to focus on Darien.

  “How are you feeling?” Darien asked, as if his father’s appearance didn’t answer that question for him.

  “Darien,” he mumbled. “There is something you must know. About Philip.”

  “I’m listening.” Darien pulled the chair closer to the bed, sick to his stomach that he had forced this issue today.

  His father opened his eyes, struggled to lift his head then collapsed against the pillows. “We’re alone?”

  “We are alone. What can I get you? Some water?”

  “Philip, he …” his father whispered. Tears leaked from his eyes and wound down the lines etched in his shrunken skin. “He hung himself.”

  “What?” Darien blinked. “Accidently?” All kinds of freakish mishaps happened on working farms. His father must not mean what Darien thought. Philip would never do himself in. That would be something one would expect of Darien, the weaker brother. The dark horse of the family.

  “It happened like that man said. Collin Jacobson.” His father spat the name. Though his fierce gaze showed his venom, the right side of his face drooped. “We found them together and I said he was dead to me. Not my son.”

  His father’s slur thickened the faster he spoke. He paused to catch his shallow breath. Tears streamed unchecked down his face. Darien found a towel on the nightstand. He gently wiped tears from his father’s cheek and chin.

  “You were shocked, I’m sure.” Darien was too upset by his father’s appearance to feel like a fraud for defending him.

  “They found Philip in the stables the next morning. Hanging from the rafters.” His father closed his eyes and sobbed silently.

  Darien suddenly hated himself for his constant badgering of Westhaven’s loyal servants over the years. No one had said a word. There was no leak, no hint of rumor, no whiff of such a monstrous thing.

  Darien stood, went to the window and opened the drapes. His own throat tightened. He could not stop the tears in his eyes. The pain that tore through his gut. Why would Philip do that? Why had he not come to his only brother if he were that distressed?

  “Darien,” his father called.

  Darien let the drapes close, preferring the dark for any more ground-quaking confessions. He wiped his face and returned to his father’s side.

  “I’m here.” He sat in the chair he recently vacated.

  “You must marry Arianna Maddox.”

  “I must marry Ivy.” That was true more than ever, especially with Melody to consider.

  “No. Maddox will reveal that Philip committed felo de se. Self-murder is a crime against the crown. All Philip’s property would be seized, but worse still, Maddox would have grounds to litigate for damages. He vowed to see me penniless and Philip’s good name destroyed unless one of his daughters became Lady Westhaven.” His father grabbed for Darien’s hand. “He wants what we have and he’ll destroy us if he doesn’t get it.”

  “That was nearly ten years ago.” Darien patted his father’s hand, then laid it by his side. “Philip is dead. Let Maddox do what he will.”

  “But Philip’s buried in the church cemetery next to your mother. Self-murderers must be buried beneath crossroads with a stake driven through their heart. That’s part of the penalty. I did not believe Maddox but I’ve read the law myself since. I won’t have my son separated from us. You must promise you will not let that happen.”

  “Mother knew the truth then.” Darien’s words were flat, a statement, rather than a question. Of course his mother knew the real cause of his brother’s death. The rapid decline of her health after Philip’s passing had easily been attributed to the loss of her son, but the fact that she had never recovered …She must have blamed herself as Darien did now.

  “I could not keep it from her. I tried but I needed her forgiveness. I could not let her think I killed her son.”

  “And Lily knows too I suppose? That’s why she would accept your marriage to Arianna.” Darien shook his head. “Why did no one see fit to inform me?”

  “We wanted to spare you. I know how much you loved your brother.”

  “You did not spare me. This bloody secret has eaten away my life.” Darien stood and balled his fists. “Maddox won’t get away with his threats.”

  “That’s why no one told you, Darien. You are too volatile. If you ever took a moment to think how your actions affected others, you’d see there is no other way. The Blackmores have been a force to reckon with not only by brute force but cunning.”

  “And a fine bloody mess we all are.” Darien got up and strode to the window again. He stared out at the grass-covered lawn still damp with morning dew. Finally knowing what had actually happened to Philip did not bring Darien the least bit of satisfaction. He’d been acting like a petulant child, chasing windmills with his toy sword. The last ten years of his life had been wasted blaming the very people who had been trying to protect him and his way of life.

  He turned to face his father in the shadowed gloom of his bedroom.

  “There is a letter.” His father’s weak voice forced Darien by his side, though he didn’t think he wanted to hear anymore. “For you. I never opened it.”

  “A letter?” Darien thought of the letters from Jacobson and wondered if this one said anything more.

  “From your brother. We found it in his pocket.”

  “Where is it?” Darien’s heart thudded against his chest. What could Philip say to explain his actions? Darien didn’t know, but th
e prospect of reading his brother’s words was all powerful at the moment.

  “In this drawer.” His father let his hand drop onto the dark walnut nightstand. “The key is in my desk drawer under a false panel in the bottom.”

  Darien strode to the bedroom door.

  “Don’t let anyone else in.” His father lay on his back, his arm shielding his eyes. He appeared worse for the confession, the life visibly slipping from him with each raspy breath.

  Heedless of anything but the letter and the bloody truth from his own brother’s mouth, Darien ran past the door.

  The doctor and Maddox lounged in the adjoining study. The doctor remained asleep in a armchair. Maddox, who was fully alert and freshly dressed, jumped to his feet the moment he noticed Darien.

  “Well, is he awake?”

  “No.”

  Darien went directly to the drawer and lifted a tray that held ink wells and seals. He pulled an insert out, heedless of the quills that fell to the floor. The key lay alone on the bottom. Darien closed his eyes, already knowing everything his father said was true.

  “What are you doing?”

  Darien gripped the key tightly in his fist, partially to hide the brass from Maddox’s view and partly because he wanted to smash in Maddox’s face.

  “Bugger off.” Darien headed toward the door, his brother’s letter taking priority.

  “If he dies, you and I will need to have a long talk. You might not claim to give a bloody damn about anything but yourself, however I do recall you had an unusual fondness for your brother.”

  “And so did you, as I recall.” Darien stopped and faced Maddox. A quick glance around the room showed that Jacobson had likely escaped sometime while he’d been at his father’s bedside. “I’m good at keeping secrets, too.”

  Henry’s smile faded. “That doesn’t change the fact I can ruin your family’s reputation for years to come.”

  “But you would still do anything to be a part of it.”