"Louisa, please don't," Elysia pleaded, hating to see the wounded look on her pale face.
"No, please, I'd rather face the truth—it's better this way. I do not feel grief for their death—it is more of a grief of betrayal."
Maybe it was wiser to let Louisa talk. An inner strength was growing within her, maturing her as she faced up to, and accepted what had happened and why. She would be stronger in the end, Elysia thought, as she noticed the new determined light in the soft-gray eyes. She would not be hardened though, for she had a gentleness that would never leave her.
"They wanted too much, Elysia," Louisa was saying sadly. "Their greed corrupted whatever decency they had. But whatever else they might have been, they were my parents, and I shall remember them as that—regardless." Louisa stood up reluctantly. "Now there are matters to be seen to that I must deal with; and I do not even know where to begin." She shook her head hopelessly.
"You can not handle it alone. Please allow our solicitors to take these matters in hand. I don't know who they are, but I am sure Alex will get in touch with them on your behalf. After all it is what they do best and if you have any further difficulties, then Ian my brother will be only too glad to be of assistance."
"Ian? I had not heard that you had a brother," Louisa looked puzzled. "I had thought you an only child. I shall look forward to making his acquaintance.”
"Oh, but you have met him," Elysia told her, innocently.
"I have? No," she said with a thoughtful look on her face. “I do believe you are mistaken, for surely I would have remembered your brother."
"Possibly you know him under a different name—David Friday. I do believe he is using that name hereabouts."
Louisa stared at her as if she were crazed. "David Friday is your brother! B-but I do not understand this. He is not a sailor . . . then, who is he?"
"It is a long and incredible story, and one of which I do not even know all the details, except that he is Ian Demarice, my older brother, and an officer in the Royal Navy—and quite a respectable gentleman. But why not let him answer all of your questions?"
"Oh, dear me . . . your brother? Oh, I just couldn't—and besides, if what you say is true . . . then he was just doing his duty," she continued flustered. "I always suspected he was more than he said he was. He acted like such a gentleman, always. Everything is so confused downstairs; but I did think that I caught sight of him there. I am so confused. He is an officer, you say?" Elysia nodded, and Louisa's face crumpled as she said, "So it was all an act, e-even his interest in me—a part of the job, which is now over."
"It'll never be over between us, Louisa."
Louisa gave a start of surprise and turned to see Ian striding into the room. His top boots were muddied and there was a rip in the shoulder seam of his jacket where the bullet had tom into it. His arm was in a sling, and he looked tired, but elated His mission had been a success and all he'd set out to do, he had accomplished.
"Ian, how is your arm? Should you be up and walking about?" Elysia said worriedly, as he came over and kissed her cheek affectionately.
“Now stop mother-henning me—had enough of that from that woman clucking about me downstairs. A Mrs. Duney . . . Diney, I don't know, but she sure knows how to wrap a bandage. Could've used her in the Mediterranean, except all the men would've deserted to get away from that horrid stuff she peddles as medicine." He grimaced, still tasting its flavor in his mouth. "All of that for a little scratch.”
"That's Dany's special elixir, guaranteed to put you on your feet again," Elysia laughed, delighted to see Ian was not suffering from any aftereffects.
"Nearly put me on my head!" He walked over to where Louisa was standing quietly, intently studying a rather commonplace piece of the mantelpiece, and addressed his next remarks to the smooth curve of neck revealed to him, despite its obstinate set. "I do not believe that we have been properly introduced. I am Ian Demarice," He bowed formally over her limp hand, a smile lurking in his eyes.
"Mr. Demarice," Louisa replied formally. "I'm afraid that I do not know your rank."
"It's Lieutenant," Ian stared down into her gray eyes intently, a muscle twitching in his eye; "I am sorry, Louisa. I would not have had you suffer for anything in the world, but our wishes do not always come first. Believe me when I say I would not have had it end this way."
"Thank you. I know you were only doing your job, and it had to be done. I trust there would have been no other way out of this that could have ended happily. Someone was bound to get hurt."
"I am sorry that it had to be you, Louisa," Ian said softly.
"Yes, well . . . it is all over now."
"Yes it is," Ian agreed gravely, then cast a loving eye on Elysia. "Well, darling sister, you certainly gave me a fright—seeing you in that cave took years off my life. But you were always one to involve yourself in mischief," he reproved her gently. "How are you feeling? I can't honestly say that you look none the worse for wear."
"I feel better than I must look," .Elysia declared, catching sight of herself in the mirror. "I shall never be vain of my looks again." She hesitated uncomfortably, then asked, a trifle too casually, "And where are the others?"
"If by others, you mean your husband and brother-in-law, then they are downstairs in the salon with the authorities. There is much to be seen to, and straightened out. I should not like to see the villagers or fishermen punished harshly; they were compelled against their will to join this gang."
"I also would not like to see this happen, and if in anyway I can atone for what my parents did to their people—then I would be most sincerely grateful. It is the least that I can do." Louisa looked shyly at Ian, her hands clenched. "I will not presume upon your friendship now that this affair is over. I know that you were only following orders, a-and I truly understand. Now if you will excuse me." She made to leave, but Ian grasped her arm, halting her.
"You are wrong Louisa, for it is I who would not presume upon your friendship when you have learned the full extent of my role in this tragedy. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, then I could ask for no more."
"But I could never hate you, Ian," Louisa cried, appalled at the thought. "I have nothing to forgive you for; you were only doing your job, and I would not have expected less of you."
Ian smiled into the misty gray eyes, his heart in his eyes as he captured her fluttering hand in his large tanned one, holding onto it possessively as he turned to look at Elysia.
"I shall have to report to my commander, Elysia, but I shall be back within the week, so I will be leaving shortly." His blue eyes caressed Louisa's face as he added sternly. "But Louisa and I have a small matter to see to first, so if you will excuse us, we will try to reach an agreement."
"By all means," Elysia replied smiling, "and Louisa, believe him, for I can vouch for his honesty and . . . sincerity. He is also extremely mulish when he wants his own way."
Louisa returned her smile shyly, a becoming blush coloring her cheeks as she left the room with Ian's arm hovering about her shoulders.
"I am afraid that I am sadly out of touch with what has been going on in St. Fleur. I allowed my responsibilities to be assumed by the Squire, who grossly and criminally misused them. But I can promise you gentlemen that I shall take a personal interest in the future of this area and the people who live here," the Marquis promised the Admiral and special envoy from London, who were sitting before him in the salon, a touch of hauteur in his voice.
"Of course it will have to be settled in court, but I feel assured that the villagers will not be dealt with harshly, or suffer unduly, now that all of the circumstances have been revealed. And with your patronage, I feel sure we will no longer have trouble in these parts," the special envoy conceded, but be was still slightly put out that it had been a woman who had led them such a chase, and bad been instrumental in his being forced to live aboard ship these past weeks. He felt insulted by the indignity of being outwitted by a woman
for so long; although his feelings were smoothed over by the recovery of the secret dispatch, and the end of the spy that had confounded his department so easily.
"Thank you for your confidence, gentlemen. A glass of brandy before you go?" the Marquis inquired politely, as he deftly excused himself. He motioned to Peter to see to it, as he saw Ian and Louis across the - hall intent upon entering the library. He followed them, catching up with them before they entered the room, and said arrogantly, "Just a moment. I want a word with you."
Ian turned, startled by the command in the cold voice, and faced the hawk-like features of the Marquis. He was momentarily perturbed at the interruption, but how could he refuse his host and brother-in-law, in his own home?
"Certainly, Your Lordship, I am at your service."
He pressed Louisa's hand. "I shall be back shortly, so do not disappear," he warned, and spotting a book on a small pier-table, picked it up and smiled, as he noticed its title before placing it in Louisa's hands. "This will keep you entertained, my love."
Louisa blushed as she stared down at the small volume of Shakespeare's love sonnets.
Ian followed the stiff-backed Marquis into his study and glanced at him in bewilderment as the Marquis closed the door with ill-contained anger, and turned to glare at him with what seemed to be enmity. And why should Lord Trevegne be glowering at him? Ian thought in dismay as he stood uncomfortably for a moment, feeling unnerved before that golden-eyed gaze. He never felt this tingling feeling of approaching doom when facing a dozen cannon!
Ian coughed, breaking the silence. "You wished for a few words with me?"
"More than a few words, Sir," Lord Trevegne retorted sarcastically, "after that charming scene I had the misfortune to witness."
"I beg your pardon—but what is that supposed to mean?" Ian demanded, not at all certain he cared for His Lordship's tone of voice.
"I mean that sickening display of devotion on your part, while Elysia lies bruised and beaten, above your very head. I ought to throttle you within an inch of your life," he threatened ominously.
Ian blanched. Good Lord! What the devil was the fellow enraged about?
"I say, Elysia will be all right—a trifle bruised yes, but she's a spirited lass, and I've seen her in worse scrapes." Ian smiled what he thought was a comforting smile. Obviously, His Lordship was upset over Elysia's condition. "I'll admit she's been through a devil of a time, shocked me, it did, to see her in that cave. But you can rest assured, Lord Trevegne, for your housekeeper, a Mrs. uh . . . ah yes, a Mrs. Dany, said she would be fine, what with a little rest."
"Oh, does she now?" Alex asked quietly. "And I suppose you have been up to see my wife?"
"Of course!” Ian looked at the Marquis oddly. "Naturally, it's my right. What kind of a person do you think I am?"
"I’ll tell you what I, think you are, you bloody bastard," Alex growled, his control snapping in a wave of outraged fury. He pounced on the startled young man, carrying him backwards against the wall where he held him pinned helplessly, oblivious to the other's bandaged shoulder.
"I could kill you! No one has ever dared to do what you have dared. What is mine. I keep. Remember that—Elysia is mine, and always will be. No suckling pup with ideas above his station is going to take her from me! You can clear out. and don't you set foot on this piece of coast as long as you live." 'Alex paused, his breathing ragged, "or your life will be shortened considerably.”
Giving Ian a shake like a dog with a bone, he released him suddenly, throwing him aside, where Ian stumbled to fall against a large, leather chair. Catching himself, Ian rose to his feet, the blood rushing into his face as his fists clenched into tight balls of bone and muscle.
"I admit that I was shocked when I discovered Elysia had wed you," he spoke with disdain, "and I was, to be frank, dismayed for I have knowledge of your reputation, Your Lordship. And," he paused straighten-ing his shoulders with what dignity he could muster, "you have only confirmed my worst fears regarding this marriage. I know that as a gentleman, I have no other recourse but to remove Elysia from your influence. Divorce is to be looked upon with disfavor, of course, and only as a last resort—but I shall see that you have no more to say or do about her welfare."
"Why you impudent milk-sop. You would dare to cross me!” Alex bellowed, feeling madder than he had ever felt before in the whole of his life. He was beyond all reason. "You would like to have that divorce—a last resort indeed, you lying cheat!” he sneered. Ian's eyes blazed at this final insult. He would take no more from this half-crazed Marquis. He drew his glove to challenge this scurrilous attack of his character, but His Lordship was continuing, not content with his previous insults. It was as if he were purposely goading him into a challenge.
"I will never divorce her. She's mine—a Trevegne—and will remain a Trevegne until she dies. You will never marry her, you snivelling cur!”
Ian stopped, his hand holding the glove in midair. Marry? What the devil? He stared at Lord Trevegne in astonishment. "Marry?" he repeated aloud. Surely he could not have heard correctly, he thought in bewilderment, '"
"Yes, marry," Alex enunciated carefully between gritted teeth. "Or had you hoped only for a brief affair? That would be more in your style."
"Marry, . . but why in God's name should I want to marry my own sister?" Ian's hand dropped to his side as he continued to stare at the Marquis, who was also now staring, as if he had not heard correctly.
"Elysia is your sister?" he said unbelievingly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course," Ian answered amazed. Then a look of wonder dawned on his features, and he gave a hoot of laughter. "You mean you didn't know?"
"No, by God, I did not! It would seem there is very little I do know about my wife, or my home, or anything else in this damned affair. Master of my castle—indeed!” Alex's eyes blazed. "It would seem I am master of nothing!”
Ian's amusement fled before the burning anger on the Marquis' face. This was no man to trifled with especially in his present mood.
"But of course!” Ian suddenly exclaimed as he remembered the promise he had exacted from Elysia. "Elysia couldn't tell you—she was sworn to secrecy by me. You must understand that my safety was at stake, if my true identity had been revealed, then all would have been lost. It was not her fault, for I was determined to have my way . . . so she gave her oath on it—and that is one thing Elysia will not break. I am Ian Demarice, Your Lordship, Elysia's brother."
Ian stood waiting while Lord Trevegne assimilated this new development in their relationship, Ian watched the harsh features, granite-like and unyielding; a proud and arrogant man, not used to being in the wrong, Ian speculated wisely.
Alex stretched out his hand. "If you will accept my deepest apologies, and my humbly offered friendship, after all that I have said—insulting you unforgiveably—then I would be honored, Lieutenant Demarice," Alex said simply, but sincerely.
Ian clasped the older man's hand, gratefully. He never could abide ill-will existing between himself and others, nor did he intend to be on the outs with his brother-in-law. He had a suspicion of how much it cost this arrogant Marquis to humble himself so. He was also well aware of Lord Trevegne's rather indecent reputation, and had indeed been shocked to find his sister married to the man–a man called a demon, debauchee and devil, among the kinder descriptions he'd heard. But he would reserve judgment until later—after all, the Marquis had been ignorant of all the facts. For now he would accept, without question, this man's friendship. He did not care to have him as an enemy. And what better way to keep an eye on Elysia than to be a member of the family, and welcomed in her husband's home.
"All is forgotten, Lord Trevegne," Ian said in a friendly tone. "After all, you were acting under a misconception."
Alex smiled his crooked smile for the first time. "I should have guessed you were Elysia's brother, you are very much alike in character."
"Well." Ian looked doubtful, not
Sure whether that was to be taken as a compliment or not. "We've both been accused of stubbornness and willfulness, I suppose."
"I can attest to both of those. But I have kept you too long from Louisa. She will be growing impatient if I'm not mistaken." He watched in amusement as Ian's face flushed pinkly. "You will both, of course, consider yourselves my guests–my home is yours." It was more of a command than a request, Ian noted sardonically, as he gladly accepted on behalf of Louisa and himself.
"Thank you, Lord Trevegne, I—"
"Alex," he invited with a genuine Smile that seemed to change his austere features, warming them like the sun shining on newly-fallen snow. “We can't have formality between brothers-in-law."
"Alex, then," Ian grinned engagingly. "I shall have to report back to my ship, but I shall rest easy knowing Louisa's being cared for while I'm away."
"She is welcome here for as long as she desires. Now, do not keep her waiting any longer," he advised, seeing Ian's longing glance toward the door.
Alex poured himself a large snifter of brandy, downing a good bit of it before replenishing it again. He stared at the closed door, letting his mind roam where it would–uncontrolled by him. He sat down in one of the large red leather chairs, a thin cheroot held indolently between his lean fingers and the snifter of brandy in the other. He leaned back, narrowing his eyes in thought, the heavy lids almost covering the glowing gold of his eyes, as a strange smile curved his lips.
See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!
Descending Gods have found Elysium here.
Alexander Pope
Chapter 17
The Blackmores were given a Christian burial, the Vicar trying his best to deliver a eulogy that would be accepted by all. He could not speak of them as praiseworthy—extolling their virtues would indeed be blasphemous, and subject him to bitter criticism by the villagers; and yet how could he stand before God and condemn them, branding them as the sinners that they were-and beyond God's forgiveness, as the local population would deem fitting?
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