Book Read Free

Ferguson, J. A. - Call Back Yesterday.txt

Page 28

by Call Back Yesterday. txt (lit)


  was too late . . . for so many things.

  When the water was growing cold, Darcy scrubbed

  the asylum’s filth away and washed her hair until it

  squeaked. Wrapping a towel around her head and another

  around herself, she went into her bedroom. She sat at the

  dressing table and stared at the woman in the mirror. Even

  after her bath, she could see scars of her incredible

  experience in her eyes and etched along her face that was

  thinner than when she had last sat here. She began to brush

  her hair, letting the slow strokes take all her concentration

  so she did not have to think of anything else.

  When her hair was smooth and dry against her back,

  she rose to dress. She was not startled to see a clean

  nightgown and wrapper on the bed. Glad to have something

  other than that horrible gray gown, she pulled the

  nightgown over her head before buttoning the wrapper.

  She saw something else on the bed. Her notebook.

  With a sad smile, she wondered why she had believed she

  could write a story of true love. She might love Simon

  with all her heart, but she no longer could guess if he loved

  her.

  Opening the book, she turned to the final page with

  writing. She frowned as she scanned it. She could not recall

  putting this section of the story on paper, but the

  handwriting was hers. Was she truly mad? Or had what

  she had suffered caused her to forget? Or . . . She had no

  idea what another alternative might be.

  She began to read,

  ~~~ Meskhenet heard Usi’s heavy steps following her,

  and she wondered how he could be so bold as to approach

  the Pharaoh’s private chambers without an invitation. Even

  Meskhenet should wait upon her brother’s pleasure for

  her company before she came here. But she had to talk to

  him. He would tell her the truth about what had happened

  to Ahwere.

  She heard a strange silence ahead of her. There should

  be many voices from within her brother’s chambers, sounds

  of music and gaiety. His advisors, the priests, his servants,

  his concubines. All of them should be busy with the

  Pharaoh’s work and making certain his life was as

  wondrous as the son of a god deserved. Something was

  wrong. Something was wrong. Something was terribly

  wrong. She began to run along the hallway, calling her

  brother’s name.

  No answer came, and she understood why when she

  stopped in the doorway to the Pharaoh’s antechamber.

  Bodies were strewn across the floor, each one contorted

  in the agony that had accompanied their final breath.

  “Onuris!” she cried, hoping her brother would, by

  some miracle, answer. She wove between the corpses to

  go into her brother’s most private chambers. With a moan,

  she leaned against the wall when she saw him lying in his

  bed next to his favorite concubine. Neither moved as they

  stared lifelessly at the ceiling.

  She longed to sink to the floor and sob. She could not.

  She must find the one who had dared to come into the

  palace and do this abominable thing. She needed to see

  that person pay the price of this heinous deed. Rushing

  back into the antechamber, she shouted for the palace

  guards to come to her. They must find the murderer so

  Pharaoh’s laws could bring justice. She ignored the

  anguished thought that no earthly justice could return the

  breath of life into her brother. His justice would now come

  on the scales of Thoth.

  “No need to call the Pharaoh’s guards,” Usi said as he

  came into the room. A smile eased onto his lips. “I have

  sent them to find the murderer.”

  “You?” Her grief gave her the freedom to show her

  hatred for him. “You may give commands in the Valley of

  Thoth, but not in the Pharaoh’s palace.”

  “Onuris is dead.” He walked past her and ran his

  fingers along the cotton panels decorating the walls.

  “Poisoned with so many of his trusted servants. But it is

  the way of Egypt to continue, and there must be a Pharaoh.”

  He faced her. “That is why I give orders within the

  Pharaoh’s palace.”

  Meskhenet stared at his triumphant smile. She had

  known him capable of so much in his grab for power, but

  she had not guessed he would dare this. Her voice shook—

  with both sorrow and fury—as she said, “You will never

  be Pharaoh.”

  “I already am Pharaoh.”

  “By what right do you claim the throne?”

  “By marriage to the Pharaoh’s closest living relative.”

  Meskhenet choked back her next question. Her brother

  had written his own death sentence when he signed the

  agreement for her to marry Usi. His own death and so

  many others.

  “I can claim the throne for myself!” She raised her

  head. “I am of Ra’s blood. You are not.”

  “Do you believe the priests will accept you as their

  Pharaoh when they have already pledged their loyalty to

  me?” He walked toward her. “Our children will be

  Pharaohs after us.”

  “I will give you no children!”

  His lips twisted. “Then you shall die, too. A barren

  wife is worthless to a Pharaoh.” He seized her and forced

  her into his arms. “But you will give me children,

  Meskhenet. Many children and much pleasure.”

  She could not escape his cruel mouth. Her fear that he

  would rape her right there among the corpses was eased

  when voices sounded in the corridor, coming swiftly

  toward the antechamber.

  He released her and went to the door to receive those

  who had forgotten their vows to her brother. Inching toward

  another door, she paused when Usi called her name.

  Reluctantly, at his command, she walked toward where he

  held out his hand to her. She would obey him until she

  could find a way to make him for pay for his treachery.

  “You asked who might have done this?” Usi asked,

  his eyes flicking from her to the guards who were listening

  avidly. “Maybe you can help us answer that question.”

  He thrust something toward her. A sandal. A sandal

  with the emblem of Thoth atop it.

  “No,” she whispered. “No, you cannot do this.”

  “So you recognize this sandal?”

  “I am not sure.” She fought to regain her composure.

  “Many wear such sandals with the gods’ images.”

  “In the Valley of Thoth?” His victorious smile

  broadened. “I think it is time we searched to find who has

  the matching sandal. Then we shall have our murderer.”

  He looped a hand around Meskhenet’s nape and kissed

  her roughly. “Forgive me, dear wife. I will return to our

  marriage bed to begin the dynasty that shall follow us.”

  Meskhenet did not answer. She wanted him to leave.

  Then she would find a way to warn Kafele. She was not

  certain how, but she must break the promise she had made

  him never to return to the far shore. If she did not, then he

  would die
for Usi’s crimes. ~~~

  “Oh, my,” murmured Darcy. When had this story taken

  such a dark turn? She could not remember Jaddeh telling

  her such a tale. If her grandmother had, Darcy doubted if

  she would have been able to sleep.

  She dropped the book back onto her bed. It was her

  handwriting, but she could not remember writing it.

  Everything that happened in it was as new to her as if she

  were reading it for the first time. Putting her hand to her

  head, she wondered if she had been lying to herself in the

  asylum. Maybe she was insane.

  No! She was sane. There must be an answer to this, if

  only she could find it.

  Darcy heard steps in the outer room. Only one person

  came unannounced into her rooms, although Simon had

  violated that trust when he had banished her to the asylum.

  She lowered the light on the gas lamp and sat again at the

  dressing table, where the shadows would conceal her face,

  for once glad for the dark clinging to the corners. She

  squared her shoulders as she watched in the mirror as he

  walked toward her.

  “Father told me you were home,” Simon said, but did

  not touch her. He sat in the chair within the bay, his face

  now half-hidden as well. “I hope you feel rested.”

  “Not really.” She picked up her comb and began

  running it through her hair, untangling the knots the brush

  had missed.

  “Odd.”

  At his terse answer, she paused. She did not turn, for

  she doubted if she could maintain her feigned serenity if

  she looked at him. “Why?”

  “When I lamented the fact you weren’t here when I

  couldn’t find the typed manuscript, Father reminded me it

  had been better for you to go.”

  “Could not find it?”

  “It vanished. I fear there is no chance of getting the

  typed version to Caldwell on time.”

  “Is that all you worried about?”

  “Of course not. I’ve been concerned about Father. He

  has been fretting about you in the wake of your distress

  over what you persuaded yourself you saw in the woods.”

  “I didn’t need to persuade myself about anything. What

  I saw was real.”

  He frowned, and his voice became cold. “You’re testy

  tonight. I thought you’d at least have the decency to come

  to the office when you arrived back here. I thought you’d

  want to know if the manuscript was on its way to London.”

  “You obviously were mistaken.” As I was to believe

  you care for me as much as you do your book.

  “Maybe I should leave.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  She closed her eyes as he walked to her dressing table.

  Please, she begged silently. Please just go away so I can

  believe you really loved me . . . before you condemned

  me to that place.

  When his hands settled on her silk wrapper, tears filled

  her eyes, but she blinked them away. She stood and flicked

  his fingers off her shoulders. She did not look at him as

  she walked out into the sitting room, where a single light

  was turned down low, and toward the door.

  He followed. “What’s wrong with you, Darcy?”

  “I thought it was quite obvious.” She whirled to face

  him. “At least, it should be obvious to you. After all, you

  were very willing to give Dr. Berger a list of what was

  wrong with me. Have I changed so much since you last

  saw me?”

  His scowl drew lines in his face as he walked closer.

  “What’s wrong with you? You are acting crazy.”

  “What do you mean?” she whispered, suddenly afraid.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He could not be thinking

  of sending her back there . . . could he?

  “What do you mean?”

  She put a chair between them, not wanting to let his

  seductive touch snare her in his web again. “If you’d

  wanted to dismiss me, Simon, you needn’t have gone to

  such lengths to do so. I’m leaving in the morning, so you

  needn’t worry about me intruding on your safe little

  sanctuary here ever again.”

  His eyes widened. “What in perdition are you talking

  about? Can’t you make sense just once tonight?”

  “Wasn’t that what this was about? That I have no

  sense? I can’t think of a better way to prove that than by

  condemning me as insane.”

  Simon caught her hand before she could open the door.

  Spinning her into his arms, he asked, “What are you talking

  about? I’m the one who’s been insane. Do you know how

  long these nights have been without you? I posted my

  handwritten manuscript, but it gave me no pleasure. I’ve

  tried to be patient while you went to call on Lady Kincaid

  and mend—”

  “Call on my grandmother? Why would you think that

  was where I was when you knew where I was?”

  “I was told you were at Kincaid Fells, and I was

  astonished when your grandmother arrived here today

  without you.”

  “Grandmother is here?” She stiffened.

  “Haven’t you seen her?”

  “No.”

  “I can send for her.”

  “No!” She could not see her grandmother when she

  was in such an unsettled state.

  “Darcy, you should let her know you are here.”

  “I don’t want to see her! Why are you persisting with

  this?”

  His eyes widened. “I am suggesting it only because it

  might heal the wounds between you.”

  “No!” She struggled to calm her voice as she asked,

  “Does she know what’s happened?”

  His fingers tightened on her arms. “What has

  happened? I can see from your expression, you weren’t at

  Kincaid Fells. Where have you been?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I did.”

  Darcy tried to answer, but the words clogged her throat.

  Dr. Berger had said—and she could not have been

  mistaken, because he said it more than once—Simon had

  sent her there. If he hadn’t, then . . . She sank to the chair

  and stared up at him.

  “Darcy, say something,” he said, kneeling beside her.

  “Even if you must say you really are leaving, at least say

  that. I’ll hate hearing the words, but I need to know where

  you’ve been. Something appalling has happened to you. I

  see that in your eyes. Where have you been?”

  She closed her eyes and slowly opened them. She did

  not want to think she was foolish to believe his honest

  entreaty, but she was. Quietly, she said, “You’re right.

  Something appalling has happened to me. Someone made

  a mistake, an appalling mistake. I’ve been at the asylum

  on the other side of Halyeyn.” She shuddered and grasped

  the chair’s arms, fearing the very words would throw her

  back into the living nightmare.

  “No!” He shook his head, his eyes wide. “That’s

  impossible.”

  “Is it?” She lifted her wrapper to reveal the cuts and

  bruises on her right ankle. “I was shackled to th
e wall in a

  place I wouldn’t believe could exist beyond the

  underworld.”

  He stood, now the one who was speechless.

  “Answer one thing for me now, Simon. Please.”

  “Anything.”

  “Did you send me there?”

  “Me?” His face lost all color. “You think I would send

  you to such a place?”

  “I was told you did.”

  “And you believed that?” Cupping her face, he tipped

  it up toward him. “Darcy, I vow to you on my eternal soul

  I never would do such a thing. You must believe me. You

  were lied to. Just as I was, it seems, when I was told you’d

  left a note explaining you were going to visit your

  grandmother to heal the rift between you.”

  “A note? I left you no note. I was abducted, and, when

  I awoke, I was at the asylum. If Reverend Fairfield hadn’t

  discovered where I was and sent your father there to

  retrieve me, I’d still be there.” She laughed without humor.

  “Of course, Hastings believes I was there rightfully,

  because he insists I take the medicine Dr. Berger gave him

  for me. I would sooner eat arsenic.”

  His voice hardened, and his eyes glistened with a fury

  more powerful than any she had ever seen there. “I’m going

  to find whoever did this to you.”

  Knowing she might regret the words, but needing to

  speak the truth, she said, “I think it was the monster in the

  wood.”

  “Don’t start on that—”

  She stood. “You don’t believe me, do you? You think

  I’m as mad as they say I am.”

  “I don’t think you’re insane, but I don’t know what

  that thing you think you saw has to do with this.”

  “Because the night before I woke up in the asylum, I

  was captured by those fanatics again.”

  He kept her from turning away. “What? You told me

  you wouldn’t go back into the wood alone.”

  “I didn’t. I went to stop your father from going into

  the wood. I saw him following after their lights. I tried to

  save him, but I was the one who needed rescuing.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me to go?”

  “I looked for you. I called for you. You didn’t answer.

  Where were you?”

  He frowned. “I was in the house all evening.”

  “But I called to you! You didn’t answer.”

  “I had a celebratory drink with Father and Andrew.”

  His forehead rutted in deep thought. “We decided to have

 

‹ Prev