She turned towards Anna. ���I���m ready,��� she said.
Dominick met her at the bottom of the steps. He took her arm and patted her hand in sympathy. “All shall be well. Lean on me for support.”
Avery’s body was interred in the small grave yard behind the church where he and Dera had been married. Dera stood, dry eyed, a cool wind blew about her. She was flanked on both sides by Dominick and Anna; they watched as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Cecelia quietly dabbed at her eyes while Monty Webster cried openly, and this time, Adele comforted him. Dera wondered if he were crying over the death of his friend or because he feared that he might be the rebels’ next victim.
The minister quoted the scriptures and mused about the fleetingness of life. When he finished, everyone scooped up a handful of dirt and dropped it on Avery’s coffin to symbolize one���s own mortality.
Dera’s gaze traveled toward the hills, her mind unable to participate in the proceedings any longer. She wasn’t a grieving widow. She wanted to throw off the black veil which blew about her face and cast off the high necked widow’s weeds. She longed to run free through the tall, meadow grass and cross the mountains to the other side.
Suddenly she started, her eyes grew wide. A man astride a black horse gazed down at the ceremony from the top of a hill. His blonde hair blew in the wind; she caught her breath. Though she was unable to see the man clearly, she felt his eyes upon her, watching her. Quint! He has come for me, she thought. Excitement glowed on her face. Her body shook from longing, and Dominick who held her hand in his felt the tremor.
“Are you well?” he asked in concern.
For a second, she looked away from the hills and at Dominick. “Yes, yes,” she said. But when she turned her gaze back again, the man on the horse was gone. She blinked, unable to believe he had disappeared so quickly. Had she imagined she saw him? “Quint,” she said softly, her heart sinking.
“Pardon, Dera? What did you say?”
“Nothing, Dominick. Nothing at all.” She knew he had been there and was nearby, for she still felt his presence in the same way that she felt the wind caressing her face and the hard earth beneath her feet.
After the interment, the Websters returned to the estate in one carriage, while Cecelia rode with Dera, Dominick and Anna in another. On their arrival at the manor, Cecelia waited until Anna and Dominick were inside the house before she touched Dera’s cheek with dry lips. “I am certain you can manage for the time being, my dear. I simply must start for London immediately. I have business there. You do understand.���
Dera nodded and disembarked from the carriage. ���It was kind of you to come.���
���He was my brother,��� Cecelia reminded haughtily. ���If you have need of anything, I have instructed Monsieur Saucier to take care of you. I shall bid you a fond goodbye.” She settled herself in the carriage, her green eyes again resting on Dera, but this time she also took in her thickening waistline. She looked away, then she waved the driver on.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
���What was that?��� Dera sat up, fear in her voice as she gazed around the bedroom. In the dark, everyday objects took on grotesque and horrifying shapes.
Anna walked sleepily into Dera’s chambers from a small adjoining room. The candle she held put everything in its proper focus.
“I heard a frightful noise, Anna. It woke me.”
“You must have been dreaming. I heard nothing.” Anna placed the candle on the table. “If you want, I’ll keep the candle here for you. Maybe it will be a comfort.”
“Yes, leave it.”
Since Avery’s burial three days earlier, she had been uneasy. The slightest noise caused her to jump and she was plagued by lack of sleep, though she was physically exhausted. For the first time in Dera’s life, she knew real fear. Avery’s cruelty had frightened her, but she had dealt with it. Now she tasted fear of another kind. At any moment, she expected to see Quint.
He was in the vicinity and taking up the torch again, followed by a handful of men. The night of Avery’s funeral, an estate not five miles from the manor had burned to the ground; luckily none of the inhabitants had been injured.
God alone knew how much she loved him. She prayed he would come to her. She ached to hear words of love and feel the warmth of his lips, but she was frightened by the violence that raged in his soul. She couldn’t imagine Quint wanting her, not after what he had said. He detested her and for this reason she feared him.
She was also worried by Jem’s parting words to her in the library. To suffer at Quint’s hands would be a mercy; being forced to endure Jem’s lust again would be worse than torture. She found she couldn’t even confide in Anna about what had happened that night. No one had seen Jem, and she had no idea whether he had joined Quint in his nightly raids.
She rested her chin on her knees. “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, Anna. Go to bed.”
The candlelight softened the harsh lines of Anna’s plain face. “Do you want me to fetch the apothecary in the morning? Maybe he’ll give you a sleeping draught. You can’t go on this way much longer.”
“I know that, Anna.”
���Mr. Quint won’t be showing his face around here if that’s what���s making you nervous. By now, he’s far away.”
“No, he’s still nearby,” Dera insisted. “I feel.him.”
“Mr. Dominick will protect you from him. Tell him about Mr. Quint.”
“I won’t and don’t you be telling him either,” Dera said.
“No, my Lady,” Anna sniffed, hurt by the accusing tone in Dera’s voice.
Dera reached out and took the older woman’s hand. “Don’t be angry. I apologize. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Anna sat beside her and enfolded her in her arms. “Get some rest, my girl. You must think of your baby. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
Dera nestled her head against Anna’s shoulder while Anna hummed an old lullaby. Before long Dera drifted into a restful sleep.
A few mornings later, Lord Monty and Adele finally departed Fairfax Manor. They thanked Dera kindly for her hospitality but decided to take up residence in London where they would have no fear of the rebels.
Dera watched as their carriage wound around the drive and disappeared from view. She puzzled over why Dominick hadn’t gone with them. She rang for her morning tea and was just settling herself on the brocaded sofa in the drawing room when Dominick appeared in the doorway.
“Bonjour, Dera,” he said, walking softly into the room. He stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Shall I pour you some tea?” she offered.
“No tea.”
“Something stronger then?”
“No, thank you.”
She sipped at her tea and wished Dominick would be seated. ���Dominick, I sense you have something to say to me,” she said.
“I do, but I don’t know how to phrase the words without insulting you.”
“Ah, this must be serious.” She put her cup on the table and gestured to a spot next to her on the sofa. He sat, a timid smile on his lips. “Have I offended you in some way?” she asked.
���Never, Dera. You are the most wonderful, most kind and beautiful woman in all the world.���
���Such compliments will turn my head.���
���I speak only the truth.” He cleared his throat. “Please don’t be insulted by what I have to say, but I must say it or go mad. Hear me out before you pass judgment.” She made no reply, and her silence gave him the courage to continue. “My cousins have left for London, and though they graciously invited me to accompany them, I refused. Under other circumstances, I would have accepted or told them it was time for me to return home. But I find I cannot do that in good conscience. You are the reason why it is impossible for me to leave here. No, don’t say a word,” he said when she made a motion to interrupt. “Let
me finish.��� He took a deep breath.
���In the past weeks, I have fallen in love with you. I know it is wrong for you to think of me in a romantic way, so soon after Avery’s death, but I am willing to wait. You’re a wealthy and independent woman now, but still you are upset about something and I can help you. To speak plainly, Dera, you’re a woman alone in a huge house with no man to protect you. There are men on the estate, but can you trust them to shield you from harm if the need arose? I know
that the man suspected of killing your husband is still roaming the countryside. So please allow me to remain here with you. I shall be your knight and my love your shield.” He kissed the palm of her hand and pressed it to his chest.
Dera didn’t know what to do. Dominick’s love was plain to see and she was fond of him, but to have him residing at the manor as a permanent guest had never entered her mind. She was touched by his concern, yet she knew she must refuse his offer. He had a life elsewhere.
“How dear you are,” she said. “I do thank you for offering, but many times you’ve told me how you miss your sister and your home. I think you might be needed more in New Orleans than here.”
He appeared crestfallen but cast a determined eye upon her.
“Dera, I feel it is my duty to look after you. You need me. Besides, I can help you run the estate. In that way I can earn my keep here. There is no possible way I can leave, otherwise, your welfare will be on my mind forever, and I shall always feel I deserted you. And I promise not to force my attentions upon you or damage your reputation. You mean too much to me. I insist I be allowed to remain.”
She looked down at her dress rather than face the open adulation and love in his eyes. She knew she could never reciprocate his feelings when she still loved another man. A part of her expected to see Quint at any moment in some dark corner of the house, and though she longed for his love again, another part of her couldn���t imagine him coming to her when he detested her.
Then there was the problem with Jem. If Dominick was gone, as he had been the night Jem first came to her, she knew she would be forced to kill him or herself. With Dominick near, Jem wouldn’t be foolish enough to risk attacking her.
Oh, to be free of such doubts and fears! She hated thinking of Dominick leaving. She had grown used to his kindness and gentle support. Perhaps she needed Dominick more than she cared to admit.
“Dera?”
She looked up, not certain she was doing the right thing. “Yes, stay with me, Dominick. I do need your help.”
Quint sat upon a hill, overlooking the meadow. The golden green grass waved ever so slightly in the gentle breeze. Sometimes, if he looked hard enough, he could distinguish twenty different shades of green. But he didn’t have the time for such games now.
He knew he shouldn’t have returned. The burnings were an act of defiance against the English and a defiance against she who reigned over Fairfax Manor as its mistress.
After escaping Kilmainham Gaol, he could have fled the country. The secret band who organized his escape had begged him to join them and fight for the cause in other sections of Ireland, but he refused. His heart had known where to go, and he had returned to see her the morning of Fairfax’s funeral. He knew she had seen him and he could easily have swooped down from the mountains and carried her off. In spite of her treachery, he wanted her, But she had turned and spoken to the foreigner who stayed in her house, their bodies touching. He rode away, filled with renewed hurt and dark despair. Clearly, she had conquered a new heart.
So now he sat there, conscious that time grew short. The king’s soldiers were closing in on him. But he needed one last look at his land to sustain him for the rest of his life. His boyhood had been spent working in the fields and rounding up the cattle after they grazed in the meadow. From his vantage point, he saw the cottage he had shared with his mother. A tear rolled unbidden down his cheek as he remembered how gentle she had been, and how she pretended their hovel was the manor. She had cleaned and scrubbed the filthy sty until she had grown old and sick. It was such a tragic waste of a bright and elegant woman.
His gaze lingered on the hay stacks below him, glowing like golden apples in the sunlight, and he thought about Dera. He imagined he saw her with her hair blowing wild and dark about her face, a shawl tucked neatly over her high, full breasts. He saw himself kiss her and lower her to the grass as she loved him in return.
���Dera, I love you,��� he whispered aloud, but as he spoke the picture disappeared. He waited a few moments, hoping to evoke the image again, but he couldn’t. Time was running out. Jem waited for him across the mountains. He had no idea where they were headed and he didn’t care. Nothing mattered beyond this meadow and the treacherous woman he loved.
He stood and mounted his horse, refusing to look again in the direction of the manor. His life here was ended. He wanted no more pain and vowed not to yearn for her again. He had to put the woman in the manor house behind him, but in his heart he knew he would always carry the image of his love’s eager, beautiful face as she waited for him in the meadow.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
���The year can���t be over soon enough for me,” Dera complained to Anna. “I can’t wait to get out of these ugly, black widow’s weeds.”
The two women walked down the quiet street of the village. It was early yet and few people were out which suited her. She rarely came to the village, fearing the frank gazes of the curious. Today, however, she was restless and bored and decided to visit the dressmaker herself. It would make a nice change, but she realized that information about her purchases and every word she uttered would be dutifully passed along to the rest of the villagers.
“Tsk, tsk, my girl, you’ve barely been a widow for one full month,” Anna reminded. “You’re lucky to have Mister Dominick for company. I know for a fact he hates to see you unhappy. Anyway what are we doing in the village today? You could have sent someone to fetch the material for your weeds instead of making this trip so soon after Lord Fairfax’s death. What will people think?”
“I can’t get information from anyone on the estate about Quint. No one claims to have seen him, and there haven’t been any burnings either. Everyone has become as silent as mice. I have to know something or go mad.”
“What do you expect to learn from Mrs. Dugan? She’s only a dressmaker. “
“She’ll tell me something. She has big ears. Besides, the material is very expensive and she doesn’t want to lose my trade. What could be more natural than Avery’s widow inquiring about the rebel who murdered him?”
Anna stopped and halted Dera with a hand on her arm. “Do you think Mr. Quint killed him?”
Dera bit her lip in indecision. “I can’t answer that. I really don’t know.”
As they walked down the cobble-stoned street, they heard loud, raucous noises emanating from inside the tavern.
“My God, these Irish start drinking early in the day,” Anna said with disdain. “You’d think they would be more God fearing.”
Dera laughed. “Most of them fear the Lord whether they’re sober or not, but especially when they’ve tilted the keg one too many times.”
���Disgraceful, just horrible.���
The tavern door flew open. A thin, balding fellow landed on his backside, a pint of ale held high in his hand to prevent the precious brew from spilling onto the street.
“Don’t you be coming back here, you scrawny bag of bones!” the tavern keeper hollered at him. “Next time you cause trouble, I’ll call the constable.” The door slammed shut.
“Bloody bastard!” the balding man yelled. “I wouldn’t come back if you begged me. Your liquor’s rotten.” The man raised himself to his knees, then unsteadily made it to his feet and swayed like a sapling in a windstorm.
“Come on,” Anna urged. “Let’s be moving along.”
Dera obeyed, trying to ignore the man, who was barely two yards from her. He turned, tottering, his beady eyes fixed on her
. Then he smiled a toothless smile. “My lady,” he said bowing from the waist.
“Ignore him, my lady. Rubbish,” Anna snorted.
Anna led the way and Dera made an attempt to move around the man who blocked her passage. “Uppity bitch!” he said to Dera, who refused to look at him. “Parading down the street like you’re a queen, but even queens come across in their royal beds.” He took a swig of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t bid me the time of day, but I bet you and that Frenchie do more than play quoits by yourselves.”
“What did you say?” Dera asked and looked directly at him.
He leered. “Me and the boys,” he pointed to the tavern, “were betting you’re too hot a piece for Frenchie. We think you be needing a real man to please you.” He reached out and touched the neckline of her gown. “And it would be my pleasure to oblige the mourning widow.”
Dera raised her head to slap his ugly, toothless face, but Anna caught her wrist and dragged her along, leaving the man laughing drunkenly.
“Anna, how dare you! Didn’t you hear what that horrible man said about me?”
“Yes, I heard, but you can’t raise your hand to these people. You don’t want every person in the village to see you as a fool. How do you think it would look for his lordship’s widow to strike a drunken lunatic? Believe me, that would be adding more wood to the fire.”
Dera calmed down enough to see the wisdom of Anna’s advice, but she was bothered by what the man had said. “Is my reputation in danger because Dominick is staying at the manor? You knew of this talk, didn’t you?”
“I knew. Don’t pay any mind to their vicious tongues.”
“I’m not worried about me. Poor Dominick. Scandalous talk will upset him.���
“If I were you, I���d worry a sight more over yourself than him.���
Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) Page 15
