Forever

by Holt, Cheryl

  She figured her father had bribed him to leave her alone, but she’d also assumed—no matter the ruse her father had utilized to ensure his departure—that Robert would come back for her. She’d thought his affection was genuine and would never fade, but as the years had slid by and people had begun to whisper that she was deranged, she’d been accused of waiting for a dead man, of pining away for a ghost.

  Yet she’d refused to break faith.

  Her lengthy attachment seemed pathetic, and she really didn’t need to obsess anymore. She’d found Nicholas, the child who’d been so maliciously stolen from her. He was precisely the type of son she’d envisioned he would grow up to be. She couldn’t have asked for anything better.

  But Robert was out there somewhere, and she would always wonder where he was. She couldn’t help it. It was like a sore tooth that nagged at her.

  “You’re scowling,” Nicholas said.

  “I’m not scowling. I’m thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About the past and how—perhaps—I should let it go. I have you with me now, and that’s more than enough.”

  He was aware of how stridently she’d yearned and searched, how that search had shaped her in destructive ways. He smiled down at her. “It’s a very good idea for you to let it go.”

  “It’s time to move on, isn’t it?”

  “It’s absolutely time.” He extended his arm. “Let’s walk in the park, Mother.”

  She was always a bit startled when he called her mother. She smiled too and clasped hold. “Yes, let’s walk, my boy, and let’s take it slow to make it last as long as we can.”

  * * * *

  Mary and Millie hovered in the shrubbery outside an open window at the manor. Their three aunts were inside and talking about Aunt Sarah’s summer romance with Uncle Nicholas, as well as a few particulars about the elopement to Scotland that the twins hadn’t been allowed to hear.

  Whenever their aunts’ discussions shifted into adult territory, the twins were kicked out of the room, so they never learned the most interesting parts.

  Sarah’s elopement was the most exotic adventure ever, like what a princess might have done in a fairytale. They couldn’t get their fill of stories, and it was frustrating, having to lurk and spy to discover what they were anxious to know.

  They’d had to devise clever methods to garner information. Adults never realized that they were dying to know all sorts of things—such as where they’d be living or what would happen next—but energy was never wasted in sharing important essentials.

  Even now, when their life was much better, when they’d finally been welcomed into the Wallace family, they weren’t apprised of significant details.

  They didn’t trust grownups. Their aunts, along with their new husbands, were kind and caring, but bitter experience had taught them that circumstances could change in an instant. Their mother had been stark proof of that. One minute, she’d seem perfectly fine, and then she’d seem quite mad.

  Alex had become a true father to them, and they were grateful for his fondness and attention. But they never forgot that he’d once been married to their mother. He’d picked her out of all the other women in the world, then they’d quarreled and he’d set her aside.

  Their mother had repeatedly cautioned them to never make him angry or he could send them away as he’d sent her away.

  With how their situation had been altered since their Aunt Abigail’s arrival, it was silly to suppose calamity could strike ever again, but that old message from their mother—to be vigilant, to be wary—was extremely difficult to ignore. Usually, they were able to, but not always.

  So…they furtively watched and listened, and they weren’t about to stop.

  Inside, Aunt Sarah was waxing on about the weeks she’d spent in Bath when she’d been working for Mildred as her companion.

  “Did I tell you I visited a fortuneteller?” she said to her sisters.

  “No.” Catherine asked, “What was it like?”

  “He was a very mysterious fellow. He would offer up an intriguing remark and the candles would flare.”

  “Really? Do you imagine it was a trick?”

  Abigail scoffed. “It had to be. Those people are all charlatans.”

  “I can’t guess if it was a trick with the candles,” Sarah said, “or if he was a fraud, but he was spot on with regard to some of his predictions. At a few of his comments, my hair stood on end, but there were others where he was completely ridiculous.”

  “What were some of the ridiculous ones?” Catherine inquired.

  “The worst was that he claimed Hayden was still alive.”

  Mary’s and Millie’s eyes widened with astonishment. Hayden was their father, and their mother had ordered them to remember that he was. They weren’t common girls. They were Viscount Henley’s daughters. Their mother had been very proud of that fact.

  In the lonely period when no one had actually had charge of them, when they’d been neglected and mistreated and viewed as a general nuisance by all, they’d constantly fretted over their father.

  They hadn’t known he was dead. No one had bothered to inform them. They’d waited for years, figuring he had to be searching for them and simply wasn’t aware of where they were. They’d expected him to show up and take them to a safe place where they’d be loved and wanted by him.

  After they’d moved to Wallace Downs, they’d heard the servants gossiping. He’d died in an accident at sea when his ship sank. Their grandparents had been with him, and they’d been killed too. But the twins had never quite shed that feeling of hopeful yearning where they’d been so certain he was about to arrive.

  He might be alive? The prospect was too shocking to absorb. They couldn’t begin to process it.

  “Why would he tell you Hayden was alive?” Abigail asked. “Why were you even discussing it?”

  “We weren’t discussing it,” Sarah said. “He was reading my palm, and he said I had three siblings. I told him I had had three siblings, that Hayden was deceased, but he insisted I was wrong.”

  “In light of our history, that was particularly cruel.”

  “I thought so…”

  As the conversation continued, Mary and Millie tiptoed off. Once they were a distance away, they ran into the park to an arbor where there was a secluded bench behind some bushes. They liked to hide in the spot when they didn’t wish to be found.

  They had a locket that had belonged to their mother. It contained a tiny portrait of their father, and it was the only picture their mother had had of him.

  They’d stolen it from her after Alex had gotten custody of them and they’d gone to live at Wallace Downs. They comprehended that stealing was a sin, but they’d been afraid—if they hadn’t pilfered it—they’d eventually have forgotten what he looked like. They’d been afraid he might pass by, and they wouldn’t recognize him.

  They took turns wearing the locket, switching back and forth every morning so one of them always had it around her neck. It was Millie’s turn, and she pulled it out from under her dress. Mary flicked it open, and they stared at his image.

  With his golden blond hair and big blue eyes, he was very handsome. Their mother had declared him to be the most handsome man in the world, and they absolutely believed her. They looked just like him, and the notion made them very proud.

  Mary leaned in, her mouth directly on Millie’s ear so the fairies in the grass couldn’t eavesdrop. They didn’t want to jinx themselves or risk having the fairies curse them to keep good luck from approaching.

  “He’s still alive,” Mary whispered. “The fortuneteller said so. Aunt Sarah wouldn’t lie about it.”

  Millie nodded. “We have to start watching for him again.”

  “We’ll tarry out by the road every day—in case he rides by.”

  “I’m betting he will. How could he not find us?”

  “How could he not?” Mary agreed.

 
They smiled, and Millie tucked the locket away.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jasper promenaded up the grand stairs at Middlebury Manor with Camilla on his arm.

  She’d outdone herself, had dressed like a queen or perhaps a famous actress. Her gown was sewn from a shiny green fabric, with black piping and lace as highlights. Her magnificent green bonnet had black lace and piping too. A dramatic feather trailed behind.

  She looked glamorous and striking and precisely the sort of beauty an important personage such as himself would keep as a companion.

  He peered at the front doors, expecting the butler to yank them open, but Jasper’s arrival hadn’t been noticed. To his consternation, there didn’t seem to be many servants in residence. From the time they’d turned up the lane, the place had appeared almost deserted.

  No one had rushed up to tend their carriage or help them out. There were no men toiling away out in the fields, no horses running in the pasture. Not that he had many horses left. He’d had to sell most of them to square some gambling debts. He didn’t worry about his other bills, but a gambling debt! Well! A gentleman had to have some standards.

  They strolled into the foyer on their own, with still no butler in sight. There were traveling trunks stacked on the floor—as if someone was moving out.

  Flummoxed, he stood, assessing his surroundings. The staff’s lack of attention was infuriating, and the minute he was back in town, he would send a livid letter to Des, informing her to control the servants or else!

  Footsteps sounded down the hall, and he glared over to find Helen walking toward them. To his stunned surprise, her scandalous father was with her.

  “Hello, Cousin Jasper,” she said, “I just heard that you’d pulled in. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you.”

  “Where are the footmen today?” he snapped. “There was no one to meet my coach or to greet me properly. Honestly, Helen, Des was kind enough to give you the position of housekeeper, but I haven’t witnessed any sign that you’re up to the job.”

  At the mild scolding, she simply smiled. “Yes, I am awful at managing things. I admit it.”

  “You admit it?”

  “Yes.” She gestured to Simon Barnes. “You remember my father, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, and I can only ask why he’s strutting about like a peacock. I can’t imagine how you would suppose such a notorious fellow should be in my home.”

  “Hello, to you too, Jasper,” the defrocked preacher cheekily said. “You always were a horse’s ass, so I won’t pretend it’s a pleasure. But I guess it hardly matters now.”

  Jasper huffed with offense. “Get out, you impertinent devil!”

  Simon merely chuckled, then he spoke to Helen. “I’ll see you at supper—if not before.”

  Then he sauntered off as if Jasper hadn’t just ordered him to depart.

  “Simon!” Jasper called.

  The man glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, Jasper? What is it?”

  “Weren’t you listening? You are to vacate the premises. I won’t tolerate your presence another second.”

  Simon continued on without a response, and Jasper was astounded. He’d never been treated so shabbily. And with Camilla watching all! No doubt about it, Des was in for a massive dressing down.

  He whipped his irate gaze to Helen. “Explain yourself.”

  “I really can’t at the moment. Is Desdemona with you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s too bad. She should hear this.”

  “Hear what?”

  She didn’t answer. “Follow me, Jasper. You’re expected.”

  “By whom?”

  Again, she didn’t answer, but switched her focus to Camilla. “May I ask your name?”

  Jasper replied for her. “This is my special friend, Miss Robertson.”

  He imbued the word friend with extra emphasis, wanting Helen to realize that a salacious relationship was being pursued, but she displayed no heightened interest.

  “Let me show you into the receiving parlor,” she said to Camilla. “You can wait there.”

  “She’s not waiting in the parlor,” Jasper scoffed. “We’ve traveled from town, and we’re tired. We’ll head upstairs to wash and rest, then I’d like trays brought up. You can put Miss Robertson in Des’s suite.”

  It was a brash request, but he made it anyway, even as he peeked out the open door, disturbed to note that no one had approached his coach. No one had grabbed his and Camilla’s bags. Why weren’t footmen traipsing up behind him to lug them inside?

  Clearly, Helen was an incompetent disaster, and she would have to be fired at the earliest opportunity.

  “You and Miss Robertson won’t be allowed upstairs,” Helen had the temerity to say.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, and don’t argue with me. Our chambers had better be ready, and if they’re not, I’ll know why!”

  She sighed with exasperation. “Would you come with me? And Miss Robertson? Find a seat somewhere. Jasper will join you in a few minutes.”

  Helen led him down the hall, and he was so bewildered by her lack of respect that he couldn’t decide how to react. He peered back at Camilla. “Just…sit down. I’ll see what’s happening.”

  Camilla had quite a strong character, and she stomped over to Helen, towering over the petite woman in a threatening fashion. “I will accompany Jasper, you little tart. Don’t try to dissuade me. It will be a cold day in Hades when a servant commands me.”

  “Too right, Camilla.” Jasper preened, liking that she’d stood her ground.

  But Helen wasn’t intimidated. “I understand your position, Miss Robertson, but your opinion is irrelevant. You won’t be permitted in the room.”

  Camilla gasped with outrage, and a full-blown quarrel might have ensued but, farther down the hall, a man emerged from the library. He was tall and broad, dressed like a bandit or a pirate, complete with flowing white shirt, black boots, and a gold earring in his ear.

  To Jasper’s astonishment, he was armed to the teeth, knives hanging from his belt, a pistol at his side. Jasper blanched, wondering if the house was under attack, if they were being robbed by a highwayman.

  The man marched toward Jasper, his powerful strides rapidly bringing him out of the shadows so his features were observable. They were toe to toe, and as Jasper stared up into his handsome, bronzed, aristocratic face, he could have fainted from shock.

  His knees were suddenly so weak that he had to brace a palm on the wall so he didn’t collapse to the floor.

  “Hello, Jasper,” his cousin, Hayden, said, and he grinned an evil grin. “Long time no see.”

  “Hay…Hay…Hay…Hayden…”

  He muttered his cousin’s name over and over, worried that he might be suffering an apoplexy. He was dizzy and woozy and couldn’t catch his breath.

  “I’ve shocked you.” Hayden snickered.

  “This can’t be,” Jasper mumbled. “It’s not possible. It’s just…not.”

  “Are you all right, Jasper?” Helen asked. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he claimed, but he wasn’t.

  Visions of calamity shot through his mind, and he couldn’t process what he was witnessing.

  Hayden had been deceased for ten years, and Jasper was Earl of Middlebury. Yet if Hayden was alive, then Jasper wasn’t anything. Was he? He’d have to revert to being the ordinary person he’d been before Fate had raised him up to the loftiest circles in the land.

  “What…what…are you doing here?” he stammered.

  “I’m back, I’m home, and I want you gone. Immediately.”

  Camilla bustled up, and she sneered at Hayden. “Who are you, sir? You’ve upset the Earl, and you must remember your manners…and your place.”

  Hayden slid his caustic gaze to her in a sort of terrifying slow motion. “Who are you?”

  “I am Camilla Robertson, special friend to the Earl.”
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  “His mistress, do you mean?” Hayden asked. “I can’t believe he’d have the nerve to cheat on his wife. He’s not brave enough to commit adultery.”

  Camilla was never one to be rendered speechless, but the crude comment stymied her. She regrouped quickly though, pulling herself up to her full height.

  “Shut your mouth!” she spat with incredible venom.

  “I don’t think I will,” Hayden smoothly replied.

  A second man walked up behind Hayden. He was older than Hayden, but he looked just as tough, and he was just as heavily armed.

  “You’re being a pest, Miss Robertson,” he said to Camilla.

  “If I am, it’s certainly none of your affair.”

  “Your presence is not necessary for this discussion,” he retorted.

  “Who are you, sir?”

  “I am Hayden Henley’s special friend, Robert Stone, and I’m afraid I have to insist that you depart.”

  “I won’t!”

  He ignored her protest, grabbed her, and yanked her away. She shrieked with offense, but he dragged her outside. He slammed the door after them, and shortly, her ranting faded.

  The hallway grew eerily quiet.

  Hayden glared at him, his disdain clear, and Jasper felt petty and small. His Henley relatives had always left him feeling that way. They’d been true aristocrats in the very best sense of the word.

  Hayden was a prime example of how blood could make a man. He was handsome and commanding. Even as a young boy, he’d stroll into a room and people would stop and stare. He’d always been magnificent and imposing, and now apparently, he was deadly and dangerous too.

  Where had he been? Why had he stayed away?

  It had been an entire decade, long enough for Jasper to have forgotten what it was like to be common. He couldn’t return to those dreary days! He wouldn’t!

  “Is there something you’d like to say to me?” Hayden asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Not really? You don’t need to apologize or beg my pardon?”

  “For what?”

  “For ruining Middlebury. For hurting my tenants and servants.”