He stood waiting for Allie to respond, his hands folded before him like a priest. While he waited, he looked at the young man next to her and nodded at Griffin, whose mouth had been hanging open in astonishment. The young man closed his lips with a snap, still staring rudely, though without any appearance of resentment.
Athol ignored him for awhile. "Allie look at me, as I have come a long way to gaze upon your lovely face."
At the sound of his voice, Allie—who had been staring at the wall to her left—turned her head sharply and stared at the stranger. Her hands fluttered to her face then dropped back in her lap, which was more movement than she had shown in the two hours she had been in the room.
She kept her eyes on him as Athol walked around the suite, studying the furnishings and glancing at the pictures on the wall. He then turned back to her and spoke in a melodious voice.
"Do you not have a greeting, child?" His face broke into a grin at her mutinous look, though she still said nothing, and he nodded his head in complacency.
"You do not like that, do you? Being called a child. Well, you are a woman, so do not fret yourself."
He paused to address the others, who stood looking at him. "I would have the girl returned to her rooms, if it pleases you. I cannot work with all of you staring at me, and this will take some time."
"How much time, sir?" Griffin spoke at last, his voice verging on the hysterical.
"That I cannot tell you, lad. Mayhap a day, or a month, or well, I cannot say."
"What is it you will do?" Griffin sounded almost aggressive.
"I cannot tell you that either. 'Tis a secret."
"Well, I'm not sure about all of this—" Griffin looked around wildly at the others, "—it is all most irregular."
"You may stay in the room with me if you wish, but no one else. Will that satisfy you?"
"Ah, yes, well, I guess so." Griffin actually shuffled his feet and hung his head like a small boy being chastised by his nanny, which brought a grin to Rothburn's face.
Embarrassed no end by his childish display, Griffin threw his cousin a dangerous look and stood closer to Allie, as though she needed protecting from all the lunatics in the room.
"Well then, if we are clear on this, I would begin right away, for this young woman needs immediate attention." Athol turned and went out of the room and as was his custom, never looking to see if they followed. He knew they did.
He went to Allie's door and allowed March to open it and usher him in. He turned back to the butler and gave a few whispered instructions and March nodded his head enthusiastically. The butler practically ran to do the bidding of the old fellow, his behavior noted with some astonishment by Sir Gordon, who had never seen March hurry for anything.
The girl was led back to her bed and tucked in, while two footmen brought a large comfortable chair into the room and placed it near the fire. They then took the one that was there and removed it. No one questioned the action, for March stood by, overseeing the activity with an air of superiority that would have done justice to the king.
The chair had been brought from the attic and no one had seen it before. Sir Gordon, unable to bring forth the words, wanted very much to question what was going on. Lady Alana and Rothburn retired to their rooms and Griffin was left standing in the hall, uncertain he should enter.
"Sir Gordon, I have given your kind butler some errands and I do hope you will allow him to aid me, for I have great need of some of my medications, and I fear I forgot them. He will be going to the nearby apothecary. Is that acceptable?"
"We have others who can run errands, sir."
"Yes, but I trust this man. I prefer him to any others."
"Very well, I shall leave you alone. Griffin will be staying?"
"I have said so, and so he should come in and close the door, I think."
Stepping back, Sir Gordon motioned the young man into the room and bowed politely, taking his leave, though his questions were unanswered and he still could not bring them forth. It was all very strange, yet he trusted implicitly this stranger who had invaded his home. In truth, he knew not what had come over him, as he seldom trusted so easily.
* * * * *
Griffin took a chair, positioning himself next to his love, and looked expectantly from her to the seer. He cleared his throat and asked in a rather timid voice, "What will happen now, sir?"
"Nothing as yet. You love her very much, do you not?"
"More than my life, good man. More than anything."
"This will be most helpful. Would you give your own life for hers?"
"Yes, without doubt." No hesitation marred his answer, but Griffin turned a little pale at the question.
"Do not worry, you will not be asked to do so."
"I'm not worried." Indeed, he appeared calm and unaffected.
"Very well, then. I would that you follow my instructions to the letter. Can you do that, no matter what?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then we shall begin." Athol removed his outer coat and folded it neatly, laying it upon the chair from the attic. He went to the fireplace and stood looking into the flames for a long time, his body swaying gently as he began to chant in a soft whisper.
The room grew brighter and brighter as he sang his litany.
Griffin sat mesmerized, his eyes growing heavy, though he fought to keep awake. A lethargic heaviness stole over his body, his limbs unable to move. He was aware of Athol Strongbow standing across the room and he was aware, as well, of the bright light glowing over Allie.
The globe of light pulsed and dipped, hovering just above her head, then a long finger of light spiraled downward and lay against her temple, just at the point where the injury had occurred. A humming noise filled his head and he began to feel dizzy. Soon, the light began to fade and the room gradually grew darker, until the only illumination came from the now dying coals of the fire. Griffin's head fell forward and he slept.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Allie awoke in a strange room, and her first sight was of an elderly servant who tried to spoon some golden broth into her mouth. She turned away and looked beyond him as her eyes caught the pulsing light over his shoulder, which appeared to be coming from a large urn on the fire mantle.
"What is that?" Her voice was fearful.
"Only my magic lantern, child. Nothing that will harm you."
"What is this place? And I am not a child."
"I forgot. Something I never do as a rule."
"You forgot what this place is?"
"Nay, I forgot that you do not like to be called a child."
"Then where am I? And who are you, old grandfather?"
"I am Athol Strongbow, and I am no one's grandfather. I have no children."
"Where-am-I?" She spoke in measured tones, and gave him a desperate look.
"You are in my house." He spooned the liquid into her open mouth, preventing further questions. Upon tasting the delicious concoction, she opened her mouth for more. Soon the bowl emptied and she slept.
Athol pulled the coverlet about her shoulders and went to the young man who sprawled sleeping in Athol's preferred chair. It seemed that poor Griffin had a penchant for picking another man's favorite roost.
He spoke to the lad with a low whisper, drawing the fellow up with a hand on his shoulder and Griffin, still half asleep, followed him to the ladder that led to a small sleeping loft. The young man climbed up and fell into the soft chamber, not even bothering to remove his boots, for he had never truly awakened.
Going to his small bed in the next room, Athol stretched out and closed his eyes. He waited some time and listened to the night sounds around him, gathering his strength. He knew this healing would take much from him, but he was certain it could be done.
He knew, as well, he would suffer the girl's pain for many days once he took it from her. That did not bother him, but the wound itself might cause him some difficulty. The brain had been inflamed where struck and the inflammation had caused a cyst to
form, long fingers of alien tissue working into other areas of her brain, and causing much of her trouble.
Knowing the girl had little time left, he tried to wash the anxiety from his thoughts and give himself completely to the task at hand.
Athol had no concern their absence from Allie's room would be discovered. They might stay here for days, and no one would be the wiser. Time had evaporated in this place and one hour in the outside world was as several days here. He sighed as the first burst of agony stole into his head, and he twisted on the bed, clutching at the talisman around his neck.
The bright amber stone, embedded in a swirl of burnished bronze, began to glow as he took wave after wave of the pain and released it with some difficulty into the stone held in a tight grip.
Allie opened her eyes and looked around, her vision blurred in the soft light. She felt wonderfully free, as though she could fly and her head tingled where she had been wounded. Lifting a hand, she felt the area that was still tender, and removed her hand quickly, for her forehead was extremely hot to the touch.
Since the rest of her body was cool and she did not feel at all ill, she was puzzled, but soon slept again as the room filled with a humming noise that lulled her.
* * * * *
When next she woke, birdsong floated on the air and Allie knew she was in her bed, in her room, in London. The idea surprised her and she thought she must have dreamt that other place, but it had seemed so real.
She lifted her head cautiously, expecting the usual stab of throbbing, and was happily without even a twinge of pain. Her eyes were blurry though and she could not see much in the gloom of early morning. Thinking to open the drapery, she tried to climb from the bed and her feet hit something lumpy and soft on the floor.
She pulled back quickly with a soft cry and the lump stirred and moved, coming off the floor and becoming Griffin before her eyes.
"Griffin? What are you doing here in my room? Are we wed?"
"No my little love, for if we were I surely would not be on this floor." Griffin pulled himself to his feet and put his hands to his back, which ached from his hard sleeping place.
He looked around for Athol and spied him in the chair, his hands resting on the arms, his eyes closed in repose. The man seemed to glow with a light, though there was none. The hearth had gone cold, but the room was rather warm, nonetheless.
"Are you feeling well, my sweet?" He bent over her and tucked her back into the bed. "I would not have you catch cold, so stay put. I'll fetch your maid to get you the chamber pot."
"I do not need that. I was going to open the drape."
"I'll do it. Just stay put until Athol comes awake and gives you your medicine."
"Athol? Who is that?"
She looked faintly puzzled, but not alarmed and her eyes were clear and brilliant with intelligence. She still could not see well once the drapes were opened, and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the fuzziness. "I don't understand why my eyes are so dim. Surely it is daylight."
"Yes, but you must lie still and stop rubbing at your eyes. Do you not recall the accident?" He pulled the drape open, but the foggy morning gave off little light, so he turned up a lamp. "You have been ill for a long time, Allie. I have been worried to death, but you look much better now."
"Does Gordon know you are sleeping here?"
"Yes, but we are chaperoned you see. Athol," he nodded toward the chair, "sleeps yonder."
"Please tell me who Athol is. It is the second time I have asked."
"He is a friend of your brother. A doctor of sorts. It appears that he has healed you."
"Then I have been ill. I remember such pain and I was so confused. I could not speak, but I could hear everyone talking at me and around me. It was terrible." She looked up at the strong intelligent face of her love and reached for his hand. "I am sorry to have worried you so."
A light tapping on the door prevented his answering her, so Griffin went to the door, espying March, in his nightshirt and cap, holding a bag. "What is it March? You are not even dressed. Lord man, if your employer sees you like this, it's bedlam for you."
"I have been instructed to awaken the old fellow and give him this at precisely six of the am." He crossed the room and approached Athol, touching his shoulder gently. "Here is the medicine Sir. It is time."
Athol opened his eyes quickly and came fully awake at once. "Good. Now let me see to the girl for a moment and you can take me and my chair to the other chamber."
As he spoke, two footmen, still in shirtsleeves—not yet having had their breakfast—came into the room and lifted the chair as Athol vacated it. They carried it across the hall to a very small chamber, not normally used for guests, but the one he had asked for, being close to Allie's rooms.
They deposited the chair and went off to the kitchens without a grumble about the early hour. Such was Athol's calming influence.
Athol came to the bed and looked with a benevolent smile at his charge. "You are quite well this morning, Allie. I am glad to see it. But though you feel much better, I want you to be very, very careful for the next few days. If you should experience any dizziness, or have a headache, call for me at once. I shall be just across the hall."
He then went to the door and opened it, letting Tillie into the room. She carried a tray of breakfast foods. Athol gave Allie one last instruction, "Be sure to stay abed today and tomorrow you may get up, but do not walk around much. Keep to your rooms, but keep the windows open for fresh air. If it grows cool, put a blanket over you, but keep the air fresh in this room. May I trust you to do that?"
"Yes, of course, I shall do as you say." She seemed so comfortable with the fellow that it surprised her. She had never laid eyes on him before, and yet she felt she knew him well.
"Sir?" Griffin delayed Athol's departure with a hesitant voice. "I will see that all is done as you have asked, but you do not look well. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Keep your future bride safe and follow the instructions as I bade you do last night."
As the door closed on him, Griffin wondered at the remark. He had not given him any personal instructions, only those he gave to Allie. It seemed a curious thing to say.
He looked at Allie and spoke gently. "I have only been here on sufferance of Athol's healing time. I must go to my room now and let you have your breakfast. I shall return later and see how you do."
He bent and brushed his lips over her brow and quit the room, hearing the maid's romantic sigh, which made him smile. The first smile he had displayed in many a day.
Across the hall, Athol once more sank into the comfort of his preferred chair, feeling the soft cloth caress him as it surrounded him, a cradling of comfort, familiar and safe. He waited for the pain and it came quickly, torturing his mind with images that Allie had once seen.
A blindness he had once healed assailed him as well, and the puncture wound from a claymore that he had mended began to throb in his side. All of the healing he had ever done for Allie's ancestors began to pull their way into his body, taking him with the agony.
He did not move or speak, and had instructed March to keep guard at the door, allowing absolutely no one to enter. He had explained to the retainer that it could cost Athol his life, should he be disturbed before he had cleansed away the pain.
March had not questioned his instruction and stood now, fully dressed, beside the door, waiting. It was March's half day off but he would not leave the house for a pint at the Jolly Mermaid this day.
* * * * *
On the second morning, at daybreak, Athol Strongbow had gone away knowing that his patient would recover and knowing many other things about her as well. How many children she would have, how long she would live, and how happiness would be her lot in life most of the time.
Athol did not tell what he knew, for he was a firm believer that people created their own destinies and the less they knew about what might be, the better off they were.
Epilogue
Pendleton Abby
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June, 1826
The vast assembly of wedding guests wandered the grounds of the ancient ancestral home of the Pendleton Dynasty. Champagne flowed recklessly and laughter abounded among the adults, while children ran in every direction, their fine garments sporting stains and wrinkles accumulated in their efforts to enjoy the day.
The bride was glowing, her sapphire eyes sparkling at her groom, as the poor fellow tried to remember the names of all those presented to the couple. His mind, however, was not on the guests and she knew he would never retain all the information coming at him.
He leaned toward her and whispered, "The duke of this, the duchess of that. I say, Allie, how's a fellow to keep it all straight? What if I call that woman in dark blue by the wrong name? I've forgotten her title already."
"So have I dearest." She squeezed the hand that held hers, and looked at him mistily. "There are vast numbers of persons here I have never seen before, but my parents insisted on this menagerie, as you well know."
The couple had waited patiently for four long years for this day, and her mother had had ample time to prepare for the nuptials. The result was truly grand, but daunting, with over four-hundred guests at the reception.
Next to Allie, on her left, her parents received their guests with great joy, presenting their newly acquired son-in-law with obvious pride. Her father was heard to remark over and over, as he passed the guests down the line, "He's a professor, don'tcha know? Nothing like having a great brain in the family."
On Griffin's left stood his own parents, who were enthusiastic in the extreme regarding the new daughter-in-law.
"She's a topper, to be sure and quite beautiful, I must say," his father repeated many times, while Mrs. George stood nodding and smiling her agreement.
Next to the Georges stood Rothburn and his Countess, who was increasing again, though even her husband was not aware of it as yet. Somewhere on the lawns three year old Quinton, the honorable heir to the Rothburn title, ran wild with his cousins and sundry other small guests. His baby sister, Lady Clarice, slept peacefully in the nursery wing next to her newest cousin, Lady Cynthia Pendleton.
A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) Page 28
