"Brienne! What is it? Have you changed your mind?" The door opened, and with a wretched start of indecision, Brienne acknowledged Ralph Harcourt as he stood in the threshold.
"I—No. I mean, I need your help." She moved forward to greet him.
"What is it, princess? You can't imagine how alarming I found your note. What is it?" He caressed her cheek gently.
"The master of the house is . . . in residence." She gulped and looked behind her, afraid she'd see those condemning silver eyes. "I cannot stay here. I hoped that you would help me leave."
"We can be in Gretna Green in a matter of days. Is that what you desire? Marriage?" Ralph's eyes sparkled, and she knew without a doubt that he loved her very much.
"I think . . ." Brienne murmured, looking away from his soul-baring gaze. She couldn't bear to hurt him, but somehow, she knew she must. She carried another man's child, and suddenly she realized that marriage to Ralph Harcourt was too dishonorable to think of. He was a good man, and she couldn't use him to extract herself from Avenel's grasp. If she did, she would be no better than the ones who had used her.
Her eyes wandered over the hall while she tried to think of a gentle way to let Ralph know how she felt. Seeing the empty staircase and the tall clock that ticked away her few precious moments, she felt no answers coming to her, only a tearing bout of indecision.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her knees weakened beneath her. In the study to the left, she spied Avenel sitting quietly in a wing chair, staring not at her but at Ralph Harcourt. One shuddering look into those stormy eyes told her everything she needed to know. Avenel had overheard their entire conversation.
"What's this?" Ralph's eyes trailed in the direction of her shocked ones. He frowned when he saw the large, dark man watching them from the study.
"The carriage is ready, Brienne." Avenel rose, nodded to the footman, and stepped into the hall.
"I am not going with you to Osterley." Brienne fairly shook in her boots, seeing the beginnings of a situation she had wanted to avoid.
"No?" Avenel's smile was nasty. "I'm afraid you must not have heard me. I said the carriage is ready to take us home. Now, let us go. We cannot keep Cumberland waiting." He grabbed her elbow. "If you will excuse us," Avenel said to Ralph unpleasantly.
"I say I will not!" Ralph stepped up, showing what Brienne believed to be extraordinary courage. "The girl you are ordering about is going to be my wife. She is not traveling anywhere with you."
Suddenly Avenel stopped and stood deadly still. "I see. Your wife." He gripped Brienne's arm almost painfully. "Brienne? Is this true?"
"I don't want to go with you, Avenel. No matter what happens." She bit her lip to keep it from quivering.
"Well, let me tell you what will happen if you choose to dupe this gentleman into marrying you," Avenel growled. "I will never give you a moment's peace for the rest of your life. There will be no place on this earth where you could go to be free of me. And even if you insist upon ruining your own life in this fashion, be wary of ruining his, too." Avenel nodded at Ralph.
"Here now, unhand her!" Ralph commanded, stepping forward.
"Brienne, don't you have a little news for your fiancé?" Avenel tormented her.
"No, don't make me say it." Brienne closed her eyes, knowing how much her answer would hurt Ralph. She was being left with no choice, but Ralph wouldn't understand this. He didn't know of her child.
"Unhand her, I say. She's coming with me!" Ralph spoke with unruffled confidence.
" 'Princess'?" Avenel goaded Brienne, his eyes burning with vengeance.
"Ralph, you must understand—" Brienne started but he interrupted her.
"It doesn't matter, love. I need no explanation. I told you that before." Ralph's voice was calm and reassuring. It was as if he already knew her troubles and had forgiven her. How she ached to go with him! But deep down Brienne knew her destiny lay with Avenel. Her entanglement with the master of Osterley was too complex to unweave with one simple exit.
"Ralph, I'm sorry. Terribly sorry." Her voice broke, and she felt shame enough for them all. "I don't know how to explain this. . . . You see, I've a past. . . . I'm tied to this man because of it. There's no other way but for me to go with him. Oh, Ralph . . ." She couldn't go on.
"I see." Ralph's beautiful brown eyes filled with pain.
"Ralph, you must understand. I didn't want it to be like this!" Brienne tried to pull free and console Ralph, but she knew from past pain and pleasure that Avenel's arms were as strong as steel.
"Get to the carriage, Brienne," Avenel ordered.
"No! I must explain!" Again she turned to Ralph. She would beg him to understand if she had to! Anything to get that look out of his eyes.
But she was never given the chance. Suddenly furious, Avenel grabbed her by the waist. Sweeping her legs into his arms, he had her out the front door before she could utter another word. Demanding to be let go, her cries fell on deaf ears, and he mercilessly dumped her into the waiting vehicle.
"I won't leave like this, I tell you! I won't leave like this!" Brienne cried, unable to bear the sight of Ralph's golden head hung in defeat.
"I think he understands, my dear." Avenel smiled, but his eyes looked hard. "We are leaving." He sat next to Cumberland and swiftly shut the door behind them.
The finality of the situation weighing upon her like a board and stones, Brienne jumped up and attempted to leave the carriage. She would spare Ralph's feelings even if it meant exposing her illegitimate pregnancy for all the world to see. But Avenel held her fast.
"Please let me tell him, Avenel! Don't let me leave him like this! He was kind to me!" She finally found herself pleading with him.
"And why not leave him like this?" Avenel answered maliciously. "After all, you don't love him. If memory serves, I recall that you love me."
Avenel sat back while she absorbed this blow. But it wasn't long before she had her retort.
"Yes, and my soul will burn in hell for allowing my love to be so misspent!" She leaned forward and slapped him viciously across the face. Yet he never flinched, nor did he seek retribution. Rather, he spent the rest of the trip in cruel silence, purposefully ignoring the glare in the violet eyes next to him.
III
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
—Alexander Pope
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Spring came with a vengeance in 1781. It was April 10, and the Park's grounds were saturated with rain. The damp cold foreshadowed a dreary week, but there were times when Brienne wondered if it foretold something else as well,, something more sinister.
She tried not to linger on such matters, for it was not good for the child, who was growing by leaps and bounds inside her. Fighting her constant fatigue, she moved about the great house, trying to keep busy with some needlework that never succeeded in holding her attention, and with her friendships with Rose and Mrs. Whitsome. It was good to see Vivie again and be back in her yellow taffeta bedchamber. But it had been a bittersweet homecoming, and she was reminded of this every time she saw Avenel.
She fairly burned with anger whenever she thought of their departure from Bath. She'd written a long letter to Ralph explaining her. circumstances as best she could without mentioning the child. She'd entrusted it to Vivie, and she knew the little maid had posted it without delay. But not even that could assuage the bitterness and anger that had descended upon her. She vowed to shun Avenel's presence as long as she could.
However, it amazed her that in a house the size of Osterley it was difficult to avoid seeing him. In the hall, in the passages, in the library, their eyes would meet for the briefest of moments and then Brienne would find some implausible excuse to leave his presence. Any words they might have spoken remained unuttered. She refused to allow him to hurt her further.
There was a new addition to the household, aside from the one whose arrival was due in December. A young Colo
nial boy had arrived. His name was Robert Staples.
At first glance, Nob was a quiet, skinny lad. It was not unusual to find this melancholy boy sitting in a corner of the gallery, gazing awestruck at the huge sixteenth-century paintings that lined the walls.
But Brienne found herself spending more and more time with the boy, especially since she'd learned what had happened to his father in Maryland. She was grateful that Avenel had not told the boy of her relationship to Oliver Morrow, for she knew Nob looked upon her with adulation; his eyes always shyly sought hers in the room and then glistened with delight if she arose to keep him company.
Their friendship grew with the long, wet days spent indoors. One time, when Brienne felt a twinge within her belly, she found Nob had turned ashen with concern. Feeling he needed reassuring, she had looked down at his thin, little face and said, "There's nothing to fear. I'm going to have a baby. Here, see?" She had taken delight in allowing him to feel her stomach, where her baby was growing. It was a motherly thing to do, she had decided. It made them both feel as if they were pan of a family.
But Avenel did not play a part in their make-believe family. He remained as distant as ever. Sometimes Brienne would sit in the drawing room and listen to him pace back and forth in the closed chambers of the tapestry room. Even her breathing would hush as she focused all her thoughts on the other side of the door and the man behind it. They were waiting, Brienne knew: she, for the birth of their child; Avenel, for something mote.
They were all at dinner when the news came. It was the first dinner Avenel had attended since they had returned to the Park. Rose and Cumberland were there, as was young Nob. Brienne said hardly three words during the meal, feeling distracted and uncomfortable in Avenel's company. The surprise came when Hans bolted into the eating room, mindless of his jackboots that were covered with dirt from the road.
"Slane, he's disappeared. The messenger has just delivered this." A mud-spattered note was quickly handed to Avenel and just as quickly torn open. Frowning, Avenel read the scrawl and then lifted his eyes.
"Good work, Hans. I suppose this is what we've been waiting for. Get some extra footmen to patrol the grounds. You and your brother take the gate. But be careful! Spense is a cocky bastard, and I don't doubt he'd prefer to enter the Park like an earl." Avenel dismissed the huge Norseman and turned to Brienne.
"Quenrin Spense has slipped away from my trackers. He can now show up here without warning."
"Then I would like Rose to leave." Cumberland stood up nervously. "She should go to London, where she will be safe."
"Exactly." Avenel paused as if he were going to make an announcement to which he had given great thought. "And I want Brienne to go with her."
Brienne gasped "Now?" she asked incredulously. "You've gone to great lengths to get me here for this moment. Now you want me to go to London?" She began to laugh. "Don't be absurd!"
"Your condition, Brienne. You can't stay here—" Rose said.
"Of course I shall stay here! He's my father! He's ruined my life! He's ruined all our lives!" Brienne turned to Avenel. "And I've paid the price of your revenge. So I've paid the price to stay." She stood and stared at both men, who seemed acutely uncomfortable under her determined gaze.
Avenel shook his head. "Now that the time has come, I won't take the risk. You will go with Rose."
"But I could be your lure, your bait. Isn't that what you've wanted all along?" Brienne crossed her arms in front of her.
Ignoring her, Avenel turned to Cumberland. "Tell them in the stable block to prepare the coach for the morning. I would have them go now, but I don't like the idea of Rose, Brienne, and the boy traveling at night."
"Yes. I'll go right away." Cumberland wrung his aged hands.
"No, I am not leaving! I have my own desire for revenge!" Brienne said irately.
"Revenge will be had," Avenel assured her. "And better so if you're in London. Remember, you care for two lives now, and you cannot endanger one without endangering the other."
At this quiet reprimand, Brienne paused. It was a difficult decision to make. In the back of her mind, she knew he was right. But she also knew that she needed to confront her father with all the misery he had caused her and her mother. And was there also the possibility that something might go wrong at the Park while she stayed in London and that she would never see Avenel again. Brienne hastily pushed this idea aside. That would mean she still loved Avenel, and she had been determined to deny that ever since they'd returned from Bath.
"Let me see you to our chambers, Rose. You should start packing," Cumberland said gently.
Brienne looked up just as he started calling out instructions to the footmen. She watched as he and Rose walked out of the room.
Avenel turned to the boy. "Nob, since you will serve as protector to Mistress Brienne, why don't you retrieve one of my pistols, and I'll show you how to hold one for your ride tomorrow." Hearing these words, Nob's eyes brightened, and he shot out of his seat ready to go.
" Twould be my pleasure, Master Slane . . . uh—my
Lord." Nob stumbled over the words, not yet used to Avenel's ride.
Avenel laughed. "Well then, search under my bed. The pair you'll find there should be unloaded. Bring them to the gallery, and I'll meet you there in a little while."
The boy quickly nodded and ran from the room gleefully.
Quiet settled over the eating room when Brienne was alone with Avenel.
"Why don't we all go to London?" she suggested. "We could wait until my father's whereabouts are known and then come back."
"And continue in this manner forever? No, wildflower. 'Tis best to get this over with. He means to kill me. He has for twenty years. I'll not go another score, waiting to be ambushed."
"Then perhaps if I went to see him, perhaps if I told him I was going to have a child, your child, his grandchild, he would feel differently."
"Come, now." Avenel walked up to her and stroked her glossy hair. "Do you really think that would make him change his mind? He has no fondness for his own daughter. I can't imagine how little he would care for his own grandchild—especially one begotten by me."
Brienne felt sadness well up within her. She moved to the window, but all she could see was damp darkness. "Yes, my father doesn't care for me. I suppose that has been the cruel irony of this whole scheme."
"So you see, little one, that's all the more reason why you should leave."
"No," she laughed morosely. "That's all the more reason to stay. He hurt me and my mother. I'll see this through to the end. I want a hand in bringing him to justice, too."
"Brienne, I will not fight about this. You've got the child—"
"Yes! The child!" Brienne turned around and faced him. "Let's talk about this child. This poor child, who will only know its mother's love."
"Brienne, stop," Avenel commanded, but she brushed it aside.
"I am staying, Avenel. My child would want me to. He would want the one person who loves him to fight for his heritage."
"What do you mean?" He snapped.
"I'll be here when Spense arrives, if only to put to rest for once and for all the question of who my father is."
"He isn't your father," Avenel insisted angrily.
"Oh, no? And what proof have you? None. Only my mother and Spense know the truth, and now it's up to Spense to tell me."
"Who your father is doesn't matter!" Avenel fairly shouted at her.
"Doesn't matter? Doesn't matter?" She lashed out at him. "How dare you say such a thing to me! When my child asks me why his grandfather detested him so, I'll have to say it was because of his father. And when he asks me why his father detests his mother so, I'll have to answer that it was because of her father." Suddenly unleashing all her pent-up fury, Brienne started to beat on Avenel's chest. "So don't you tell me that fathers don't matter! They matter in every way!"
"My God! Brienne!" Avenel took her fists into his hands. He tried to calm her down, but she
would not be quieted.
"Just know this, Avenel: there isn't a reason in the world that could keep me from staying here to the end! My safety be damned! There isn't a reason in the world!" she ranted.
"Yes, there is!" He caught her and pulled her against him.
"No!"
"Yes, there is! I have the best reason of all. You will leave on that coach tomorrow!"
"Why, then?" she cried. "What can you say to make things different? What can you say to make me different?" An ominous silence filled the room, and Brienne saw myriad emotions flicker across Avenel's face.
"I love you," he said fervently. "I love you, Brienne. And all I want is to see you safe."
"You? You?" she stuttered, unable to believe what she was hearing.
"I love you. So much that the question of who your real father is will have to remain a mystery so that I can keep you out of harm's way."
She touched his face, a face she knew so well, and loved so deeply. Even though he had hurt her, she still loved him. But had she heard him correctly? Had she? Softly she asked, "How can this be, Avenel? How can you be saying this tome of all people? You despise me."
"I love you," he refuted with a whisper. "I've tried to fight off my feelings for you with more vengeance than I've ever, used before, but there's no denying it any longer. I love you, wildflower. I love you beyond flesh and blood, I love you beyond everything."
"You don't care even if I am Quentin Spense's daughter?" She held her breath.
"I don't care. You're the most beautiful, loving woman I've ever met. And I'd give up everything I've fought for just to keep you looking the way you do now."
"And how is that?" she whispered.
"As if you love me much more than I've ever deserved." His voice caught with emotion.
"Avenel," she moaned. "I do love you, Avenel. I have for longer than you know."
"Then come." He kissed her so ferociously, she was left breathless. "We'll go to my chambers. Show me how much you love this Colonial beast, Brienne, and let me show you how sorry I am that I've put you through so much."
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