“Well, no matter. Yes, I’ll go over right now and set her straight about things. I won’t have her hurting you when you’re so very hurt already.”
“I told her how I was such a fool, how Judith pulled me in so effortlessly, that she’d won. You know what Hallie said? She said Judith didn’t win, how could she when she was dead?”
James said, sipping his brandy, “I’ve never looked at it in exactly that light. Fact is, Jase, she did fool you—fooled the rest of us for that matter, and surely that makes all of us dupes—but I certainly understand how you would feel more like a fool, more like a failure and a loser, than the rest of us. I want to go with you, Father. Hallie needs to be thrashed.”
“More brandy, Jason?”
Jason frowned as he stuck out his snifter to his father. “She didn’t call me a failure or a loser. I tried to explain it to her, but you know Hallie, she’s able to weave in and out of a conversation. She was talking about Judith’s spirit hanging about, about how her spirit must be so pleased that she was still controlling my life. That isn’t true, dammit!”
“Of course it’s not,” Douglas said. “Imagine, a woman dead for five years still controlling someone’s thoughts and actions. It’s absurd.”
“Well, yes, it is. It’s just that I—Oh hell, Father, you could have died. Do you hear me? You could have died! How can I ever forget my role in that?”
“But I didn’t, Jason, you’re the one who could have died.”
“Well I didn’t either, but that’s neither here nor there. Do you know she asked if you’d ever lied to me?”
“I don’t believe I have,” Douglas said. “Hmm. Well, perhaps I did when you were a lad and you wondered why your mother had yelled in the gazebo—”
James would cut his brain out before he’d think about that. He nodded. “Yes, I would lie to Douglas and Everett as well.”
“The point is, you haven’t ever lied to me about anything important, and so I told her. Then she had the cheek to tell me I believed you had lied to me—my own father.”
“Why is that?”
“She said it was obvious I hadn’t believed you when you told me I wasn’t to take the blame, and thus I did believe you’d lied to me.”
“Hmm,” said Douglas. “Fact is, Jason, she’s right. You didn’t believe me. I hate to say it, but Hallie did nail that one.”
“It’s not that I didn’t believe you, Papa, it’s just that you could have so easily died and so could you, James, and it was all my fault, no one else’s. It hit me between the eyes it was so clear. How could I deny something so obvious? You love me, damn you, and that’s why you—well all right, I didn’t accept your words, I couldn’t because I knew you said them because you loved me.”
Douglas said, “Even though I’d like to clout Hallie, let me be honest here. The fact is, Jason, you just admitted it yourself—you didn’t believe me. Perhaps you simply weren’t able to, but you wounded me, Jason, deeply, I’ll admit it.”
“Still,” James said, “she shouldn’t have said such a cruel thing about a son disbelieving his father, a father he admits never lied to him. I hope you set her straight, Jase.”
“Yes, certainly. About what exactly?”
Douglas said, “That’s all right. Don’t tease yourself any more about it. Truth is, I’ve lived every day for the past five years worrying about you. I can still feel the wet of your blood against my palm. There was so much blood, Jason, and it was you who were bleeding—my son, who was a damned hero. I remember exactly how I felt, how all of us felt, when you were so ill, when we listened to your every breath, praying it wouldn’t be your last. That sort of fear is corrosive, it burns into your gut and your heart.” Douglas paused a moment, then said quietly, “You weren’t the only one to suffer, Jason. Corrie killed two people. It’s a tremendous burden she must carry the rest of her life, even though she would never regret what she did. She still has occasional nightmares. We, all of us, live with the past, Jason, you more than any of us. Perhaps it’s time all of us consigned that wretched time to the ether. It’s time we all let it go.”
“I can’t,” Jason said, then paused. “Hallie said once that the only good she ever saw in remembering a painful event was that it might keep you from doing the same stupid thing again. But it’s so much more than that. Damnation—nightmares? I’m very sorry about that. Poor Corrie, in addition to being a fool, I’m selfish. I didn’t consider anyone except myself. Oh hell.”
James said, “I say thank God for the passage of time. It blurs things, and you begin to realize how very lucky we all are, how very blessed. We all survived. We’re here drinking brandy now, aren’t we?”
“But I was to blame, I—”
Douglas said, “Tomorrow I will ride to Lyon’s Gate and inform Hallie she isn’t to treat you so badly again, that she is to comfort you, help you endure your lifelong misery. She is to stop being coldhearted.”
Jason said, “It’s not that she’s coldhearted. It’s that what happened—it’s so damned deep inside me that I’ll never be free of it. I accept that. She must accept it too, she must.”
“I will set her straight,” Douglas said. “Trust me, Jason.”
“No, please, Father, don’t say anything to her. I must go now, I’ve kept you too long as it is.”
“One more thing, Jason,” his father said. Jason slowly turned. “Never forget that I love you, that I’ve loved you since you were in your mother’s womb and I splayed my palm over her belly and felt the two of you trying to kick off my hand. When you came yelling your head off into the world, I believed there could be nothing sweeter in life. However, truth be told, at this moment, Jason, I’d like to kick you across the room.”
Jason nearly fell over. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t?” James shook his head at his brother. “You said you left Lyon’s Gate because Hallie was making fun of you. Do you mean she can’t understand why, after five years, you’re still wanting to drown yourself in guilt?”
“The way you’re saying it doesn’t sound reasonable, James. Surely you must understand that—” He fell silent because he couldn’t find the words to say.
“Yes, we do understand,” his father said. “I think that after what happened five years ago, you desperately wanted to free all of us from your pain. You saw leaving England to be the answer. You thought we’d forget you, perhaps? That when we spoke of your triumphs in Baltimore, we’d not also remember you lying in bed with the physician digging that bloody bullet out of your shoulder, not remember that you nearly died? You are a blockhead, Jason.”
“But I was the one who—”
Douglas said, “It has always amazed me how you so eagerly gave yourself all the credit for bringing about that particular tragedy. You were nothing more than a young man who held honor dear, who loved his family, who faced evil and didn’t recognize it. And why should you? None of us had ever before been thrown into evil such as those three offered up. You ran away, Jason. I wish you had not, it nearly broke your brother, leaving him to deal with a new wife who’d had to kill two people, and every day face a mother and a father who would gladly have given their own lives for yours.
“And you survived, Jason. I believe you’ve survived fairly well. And now you have a wife who, if I’m not mistaken, would also give her life for you. Go home, Jason. Go face yourself, and the past, and think about your present and future. Both look remarkably fine to me. Oh yes, I got a letter from James Wyndham. He and his family will be here in three weeks and they’re bringing you a thoroughbred you trained yourself for a wedding present.”
“Which one?”
“I believe James Wyndham said his name is Eclipse, after our own very famous Eclipse.”
Jason said absently, “Eclipse never lost a race. He was amazing. Stubbs painted him.”
“Yes,” Douglas said. “All right. James Wyndham said his little girl Alice named him.”
“Yes,” Jason said, “yes, she did.” He walked to h
is brother and hugged him tightly. Then he stood a moment, looking at his father from a distance of six feet. He felt tears rise in his throat. “Papa, I—”
“Uncle Jason!”
“Uncle Jason!”
Two small boys, their white nightshirts flapping around their ankles, burst into the room, arms raised.
Jason stared down at the two beloved little boys. Life always moved on. Even as he gathered up both of them tightly against him, the tears dried in his eyes and in his heart. “What are you two devils doing awake this late?”
Everett gave him a wet kiss on the neck. Douglas was squeezing his neck so hard he nearly broke it. “We heard Mama arguing with herself.”
Jason nodded. “That would arouse my curiosity as well. Ah, Mother, you’re awake too?”
Alex came over to peel one of the boys off Jason’s shoulder. “I’m here to rescue you. No, Everett, no waltzing tonight. It’s time for the two of you to get back into bed.”
After no more than two minutes of whining, at which point James said, “That is enough. You will both be silent. Kiss your uncle good night. You will see him again soon. I will come up in a moment and tuck you in.”
Douglas shook his head at his wife. “I believe I said the same thing to him and Jason.”
“Very probably. Innumerable times. Are you all right, Jason?”
Jason hugged his mother, stepped back. “Don’t worry about me, Mama. I’m off.” He paused a moment, then said, “I missed all you so very much when I was in Baltimore, please never doubt that.”
James said as they listened to Jason’s boot steps receding on the tile floor, “I am going to give Hallie anything she wants.”
His father smiled.
CHAPTER 40
At the breakfast table the following morning, Hallie said brightly, “It’s been nearly a week since the Beckshire race. What are we going to do about Lord Grimsby?”
Jason said as he smeared honey on his toast, “Those are the first words out of your mouth since I slammed out of the house last night and left you alone with Petrie and Martha.”
“I saw you ride back and knew you were all right.”
Of course she would wait up for him. “I slept in Angela’s room.”
“Yes, I know. I hope you slept well?”
“Not very, but it doesn’t matter.” He became suddenly very stiff and formal. “I wish to apologize for my melodrama last night, Hallie.”
“Yours wasn’t the melodrama.” Even when he raised his eyebrow in question, she simply shook her head, said nothing more.
“I see, you’re going to be mysterious about this. I was hopeful that yesterday would be the day I’d be off to see Lord Grimsby, but it wasn’t. I am hopeful, however, about today.” He pulled out the watch from his vest pocket and consulted it.
“Now you’re being mysterious.”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I? Well, we’ll see. I would imagine he’s wondering why the devil I’m waiting this long, particularly since he knows we have Kindred.”
Hallie said, “Perhaps he thinks you’ve forgotten about it since it seems to be the done thing. When will you be ready? What does your seeing him depend upon?”
He only smiled at her.
“Very well, be a closemouthed trout-brain, as Martha would say.”
“As mysterious as my wife.”
“That’s different, but no matter. Now, I have a wonderful surprise for you, Jason,” and she beamed at him.
An eyebrow went straight up. “You’re pregnant?”
She dropped her slice of toast. “Oh dear, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“You haven’t had your woman’s monthly flow since we’ve been married.”
“Oh blessed hell, is that true? But I’m not always—Jason, that is very private. I don’t wish to speak of it.”
“I’m your husband. You’re to speak to me about everything.”
“No, surely not.”
“My father always said it’s very important for a wife to tell her husband everything. Tell me your surprise.”
Pregnant? Her flow was erratic but she wasn’t about to discuss that with him. She couldn’t imagine such a thing. It floored her that he would bring it up so easily. She took a bite of her toast, cleared her throat, and said, “At the race, you remember the other man, the one who actually shot Lorry, the one we didn’t catch—”
“Yes, of course, I can’t find out who he is, dammit. Kindred won’t tell me a bloody thing. He won’t even admit to a bloody thing.”
She looked at the clock beside the sideboard, gave him a fat smile. “Because I’m an excellent wife and partner, I am serving him up to you on a platter. Henry and Quincy should walk up to the front door with him very soon now.”
“The man who shot Lorry? What is this, Hallie? What are you talking about?”
“Early this morning, I had an informative encounter with Kindred. He told me the other man’s name. It’s Potter He’s also a stable lad for Lord Grimsby. He blamed Potter for everything, of course.”
Jason stared at his wife. “You’re telling me that Kindred spilled his guts simply because you asked him? I can’t believe that, Hallie. I threatened Kindred several times with a long voyage to Botany Bay, but still he wouldn’t tell me a single thing, claimed over and over, he was smoking his silver pipe when a rock comes flashing through the air to strike him in the head. I can’t believe he told you.”
“Big threats weren’t working on him, so I made a believable threat. Kindred said the ‘little bugger must believe he’s all safe’—and Kindred spit then—so I don’t think he was sorry to give up Potter’s name to me.”
He could but stare at her, this young woman who’d broken a man’s nearly weeklong silence early this very morning. He didn’t know whether to be happy or howl because she’d done it and he hadn’t. “Hallie, what did you threaten? Not to cut off his manhood, I hope.”
“Oh no, that’s not believable.”
“Tell me.”
Hallie sat forward, rested her chin on her steepled fingers.
“I told Kindred that I would strip him naked and have him walk behind my horse, hands bound in front of him, tethered to a rope. I told him we would ride all hereabouts—visit with every soul in the village, see all his relatives, his friends, his enemies, visit Lord Grimsby and the stables, and I would tell everyone what he’d done, and this would be the punishment for anyone who ever tried to harm either our horses or jockeys. He didn’t choose to believe me. He laughed, called me a cute little girlie, and surely I couldn’t be such a bold chit.”
Jason hadn’t realized what an excellent storyteller she was. He paused a beat, then, “And?”
“I had him stripped to his dirty hide, his hands tied together and looped to the end of a rope. I rode Charlemagne, holding the other end. He cursed, yelled I wasn’t a cute little girlie at all, and called me unnatural, among other charming names. When we were no farther than one hundred feet beyond Lyon’s Gate, just getting a good start toward the village, he gave it up. He screamed out Potter’s name, swore that Lord Grimsby had told Potter to visit his brother in Cranston until everyone forgot about the race. He cursed again and said it wasn’t fair that Dodger still won, that he bet Lord Grimsby wasn’t happy about that.”
Jason didn’t want to picture Kindred naked in his mind, but he did. Not an appetizing vision. Kindred was tall, but he had thin legs and a chest that sank inward. He had hair everywhere. Even on his back? He wasn’t about to ask his wife. “So Henry and Quincy went after this Potter fellow.”
“Yes. The key is to follow through on the threat. One must even be prepared to up the ante for repeat bad behavior. While I had him naked in the middle of the road, I told him if he personally ever tried to harm any of our horses or jockeys again, I would have his mother-in-law lead him about. The idiot said she didn’t like horses, to which I replied that she could ride in my lovely gig on a delightful sunny day, with him trotting behind her. He believed me. I told him to sprea
d this around since it would be the official Lyon’s Gate punishment for any trouble at the racetrack.”
“Did Kindred tell you Lord Grimsby threatened him if he ever opened his mouth?”
“Oh yes. I simply said that a threat in the hand was worth any number of unseen threats in a bush, didn’t he think so? Then I looked him up and down, told him that the bunions on his toes were very unappealing.” She threw back her head and laughed and laughed, so pleased she was with herself.
Jason joined her, couldn’t help himself. What she’d done was worthy of Jessie Wyndham. When she was hiccupping and sipping water, he said, “Of course he believed you, since he was bare to the hide. Well, that’s that. You’ve taken care of everything.” Was that sour grapes in his voice? Jason was appalled at himself.
His wife was grinning at him, shaking her head. “Oh no, I merely scooped up the pawns. You’re going to flatten the black king.”
“Calling him a black king is giving him too much gravitas.”
“He’s only the first in a series of black kings who will know your anger.” He realized she was perfectly serious. He felt something expand deep inside him, something that made him feel grand, filled with energy and contentment. He realized it was conceit. “I haven’t yet been to confront Lord Grimsby because I wanted to know exactly why Elgin Sloane and Charles Grandison and he were so bloody close. I set inquiries in motion six days ago.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t tell me what you were going to do with Kindred either. Don’t whine. The fact is that I would prefer to strip Lord Grimsby naked like you did Kindred. Unfortunately I don’t think I could get away with it.”
“Talk about an appalling sight—Oh well, I think that was very smart of you, Jason.” He heard admiration in her voice and it sent warmth flooding through him.
Petrie appeared in the doorway. “Master Jason, there is a small man here to see you. Very small in stature, not, I hope, in character. He says it is urgent.”
Jason tossed his napkin on his plate and rose. “That sounds like Mr. Clooney. Maybe I’ll be visiting Lord Grimsby this morning after all.”
Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123) Page 124
