“My dearest Jessamiene,
It grieves me that so much time has passed since our last correspondence. Circumstances have prevented me from writing sooner, and I am afraid will delay your response. Forgive me, dear one, as you can forgive a poor old fool. When I heard nothing in return of my last letter I thought it best perhaps you did not reply. In the beginning I believed I was obeying your father’s wishes, to keep you closeted in the dark. I know now this is folly.
To better understand I ask you to come to my country estate, following the instructions and tickets I have included in this letter.
Travel safely, dear one. Tell no one of your plans.
Love,
Uncle Henry”
Letting the parchment slip from her fingers and into her lap, Amie stared at the phosphorescent Christmas lights on the wall. She was agitated by the grumbling of her stomach and weight of her upcoming deadline pressing on her mind. This letter was the last thing she wanted to read. She’d spent many years building up protective walls against the painful memories. Sometimes it was almost too easy to forget the past when she wanted.
Until Uncle Henry’s letter Amie had done a fairly good job of shutting out the fact she had begun to rebel against her parents before their car accident. Steeling herself against the tears forming behind her eyelids, she folded and tucked the paper into her pocket.
There would be time to think about how she was going to respond later. For now she needed to stay the course of her own life. She had spent too long rebuilding her identity, years her last living blood relative hadn’t attempted to include himself in.
Chapter 3
A Party
His fingers left bloody streaks upon her perfectly fashioned cheeks, blood yet pouring from the wound in her side. Tears blurred his vision until he could see little, until he could only see flashes of their time together in his mind…Until—
“Richard, you backstabbing coward!” Lord Rupert’s shirt had been torn during their duel hours before. He had been lying dead on the battlefield the last time Richard saw him. Pale as his countenance was, thick chest heaving, how was the blasted devil still alive? Rapier brandished, he cut through the air as he continued his tirade. “How dare you tell me lies when all I ever showed you both was kindness?”
Richard clutched the motionless form of his love even closer. “Kindness?” Were they back to this again? “You named us as spies to the Emperor! We’ve been running for our lives ever since! How can you still name us your friends?”
Rupert towered over them both, ominous, spittle coating his words. “She never loved you! Have you not realized yet your precious Mary is the Lady Desdemona? That she lured you to her, making you all believe she wanted to betray her own countrymen, when she has been my wife these two-and-ten years?”
Richard trembled, shook as a beast roared inside of him. His voice sounded with the distant cannon yet overpowered it. “LIES!”
“Bah!” Lord Rupe—
Pausing, Amie stared at the mostly blank white screen and the blinking cursor waiting for her next move. She’d been attempting to write for the last two hours and rewritten the same paragraph at least ten times. Giving up, she let out a small scream of frustration, and snatched up the lost key to twirl between her fingers again. In the short hours since she’d discovered it the silvery metal had become something of a good luck charm. It also had the knack of continuously reminding her of the Englishman and consequently her father’s ring and Uncle Henry’s letter.
Amie sank back into her chair, arms falling upon either side of the leather rest. “The old codger’s out of his mind!” she grumbled to the half-full screen of her laptop. The tickets hidden in the envelope were for tomorrow night. No doubt they had cost the old man a fortune, therefore making her feel even guiltier for wanting to refuse.
Bet he had a blast orchestrating that one.
Tilting her head back, she twirled, eyes focusing on the Christmas lights she had yet to box up. She had always loved Christmas lights. In high school she had pinned them up around her room, refusing to take them down after the holidays, though her mother laughed and protested. Amie won, of course. She had always got what she wanted then.
Uncle Henry had been nothing more than a part of the occasional cursory mention of her father’s past. The rare occasion she dared ask him anything, Drustan would grow silent, and then change the subject. So few answers had she gleaned from him, she hardly knew anything about him. Only that he was her father’s elder brother and still lived on their family estate back in northern England.
Amie’s father had been raised in an isolated estate in the countryside, a place he had despised so much he ran away and caught a ride to the States the first chance he had. If Mother ever learned anything else of Uncle Henry she never told Amie. There were times Amie had forgotten the man existed, until that day, ten years ago, after he learned of his brother’s death.
Amie frowned, grabbing her ceramic mug off her desk, and with a last groan for her laptop stood and walked purposefully to her small room. With another strand of Christmas lights to guide her way, she knelt before her ceiling-tall wardrobe. It was an old thing her father once bought for her to add to the family collection of antiques, but she had always kept her treasures within it instead of clothing. She pulled open the bottom drawer and set her mug to the side. Riffling through keepsakes and small treasures, she eventually uncovered an even older folded sheet of parchment paper.
She froze as memories claimed her…
Of the horrid night she spent in her parents’ countryside home, Jo and Faye already asleep on her bed after a long day of tears and pain. It was only then she had dared open the strange letter an even stranger man had handed her at the funeral. Inside was an offer too bizarre to believe. Uncle Henry was asking her to come and live with him in England, had even put her plane and train ticket in the envelope. She had torn up the tickets in anger and buried the letter in her stash of old papers immediately.
Her eyes scanned over the words ten years later once more.
“I have no doubt my brother has shared little with you of our ancestral home, or the legacy you share, dearest Jessamiene. He held little love for our world and its responsibilities. My deepest regret in learning of his passing is that I never had the chance to tell him how important he was, how he will always be my brother. I wish for you to know the truth, Jessamiene, to grant me peace in my old age, yet also to know you.
I wish to share our legacy with you, should you choose to accept it. I wish to give you the answers your father has been unable to. I know the sacrifice you will make to come, and I do not view lightly the circumstances you find yourself in.
At present my own circumstances are difficult at best. It cost me more than I can say to be certain this parchment met your hands. I pray you guard it, dear one, but follow my instructions and all will be revealed…”
Amie sighed and lay back upon her rug. Who was this Uncle Henry? Why should she go to see a man who hadn’t cared enough to come to his own brother’s funeral? Just what kind of a place was this estate her father had hated enough to never go back to?
The entire idea was laughable really, the old parchment and archaic ink, more like something from a trashy romance novel than real life. Had she not heard of him in passing from her parents over the years, she might have doubted he existed and named the letter a cruel practical joke.
The vibrations from her phone hidden in her jeans pocket made her jump and then scramble off the floor, knocking over her Earl Grey-filled teacup in the process. With a light curse Amie twisted round and snatched the letter before it too was doused in tea.
Amie pulled her phone from her pocket and flipped it open. Breathlessly she answered, “Hello?”
“Hey!” Jo’s voice was edgy and giddy at once. No doubt James was nearby. Only he had the ability to make her oldest friend that nervous. Even now she could hear his thick Southern accent in the background. She immediately recalled why Jo would be calling h
er in the first place.
Amie groaned, “The party…”
“Wentworth, you better get over here! It’s supposed to be a surprise party and Faye could show up any minute!”
Amie stepped forward and slipped on her puddle of tea, struggling to keep her balance on the hardwood floor. Biting back a curse, she said, “Sorry, I’m coming!”
…
Thirty minutes later, after practically flying from her small apartment above Pat’s Delights antique store and speeding in her car to Jo’s mini-horse ranch just outside of town, Amie found herself offering half smiles to strangers.
Faye’s circle of friends had always far exceeded Jo and Amie’s, now including fellow doctors, church members and ambassadors to foreign lands. The place had been dressed up to cater more towards the United Nations than a small gathering of friends in Amie’s opinion. Jo flitted through the crowd with some of their mutual girlfriends and ranch hands, and as always, eyes followed where she landed.
It didn’t take long for Amie to find James, Jo’s longtime boyfriend and partner in AJSS Ranch. Most parties James found his place behind the dessert table, away from the buzz of the crowd, and often Amie joined him. Neither of them was keen on meeting Faye’s dignified guests. Dressed in a pearl-snap long-sleeved shirt and cowboy hat, jeans and boots, he stood out as much as Amie did in her thrift-store plaid shirt and jeans. The rest of the guests were clearly overdressed for a barn party.
“Hey,” she offered, moving to stand next to him.
“Hey,” he said with warmth.
Amie scanned the crowd. Chinese lanterns had been strung and lit the clean barn. Music played from a stereo nearby. The crowd mingled. Jo’s infectious smile spread to them all. Faye hadn’t arrived just yet. “Wonder how long this party’s going to last.”
James chuckled and said, “All night knowing Faye.”
“When was she supposed to arrive?”
“Her plane landed at eight. She should have been here fifteen minutes ago.”
Amie nodded and tapped her fingers on the buffet table laid out before them. “How many times have we ended up at this same table?” she asked.
James shrugged before countering, “How many parties has Faye thrown or had thrown in her honor?”
“As many as times she has come in and out of the country.” Amie smiled to herself as she saw the same ‘Welcome Home’ banner hanging across the open barn doors. Faye had always dreamed of being a doctor, going to the hardest places on Earth to save the lives of those who could hardly claim their own. Amie both envied and admired her, for while Amie wrote of adventure, Faye lived it.
“How’s the book coming?” James had always been interested in her writing and he loved war stories best of all. Naturally he took a keen interest in the War of 1812 story Amie had as of yet not given a better name to.
“I can’t decide whether or not to kill Desdemona.”
For a moment James was silent before saying, “Kill her off. She whines too much anyway. And that Richard guy’s put up with enough.”
Amie shook her head and gave him a dark glare. “Not funny,” she said with a whine. “This is serious business, you know. My editor’s expecting me to turn in this draft before the end of the month. That only gives me three weeks!” She fought the urge to hyperventilate and scream beneath the sudden suffocating weight. How had she gotten caught in this mess again?
“Screw the editor. Write what you want.”
Amie met his eye and said, “I wish.”
“Surprise!” The crowd suddenly cheered as a golden Faye came through the barn doors. Her skin had been warmed heavily by the African sun she had been living in the last six months. Amie’s heart warmed. They had all missed her mischievous, smiling face. Her black hair was cut into a short bob now, her halter dress was red and displayed her thin figure and long legs perfectly. Amie shook her head. How did she always know there would be a party even if only hearing whispers of it upon the air?
Faye worked the crowd with natural grace and ease. And with the distraction a relieved Jo approached them. Amie wondered not for the first time at how different the twins were. Where Faye was tall, dark and vivacious, Jo was shorter than the three of them, light and gentle.
Jo sank into James’ arms with relief. “Finally! I’m worn out from talking to those people.”
Amie nodded. She understood. Most of these people carried the same purposeful nervous energy Faye did. It was exciting but also exhausting at times.
She blinked, not hearing Jo’s words until her old friend repeated them.
“So any luck on the story?”
Amie adopted a sour expression.
Jo spoke for her. “That bad, huh? Don’t worry about it. You always come up with something. By the way, who was the letter from?”
Amie opened her mouth, praying for what would sound like a convincing response. For though she hardly knew her uncle, a part of her was quick to keep his secret. Faye and Jo had never known about the first letter, or her father’s ring for that matter, which made Jo’s interest in the key sharing its symbol all the more curious.
“Amie!” Faye shouted, descending upon them like fireworks, her green-flecked eyes dancing, long arms instantly squeezing the life out of Amie.
Amie fought the urge to cough, but was thankful for the distraction. “Ah…” She paused for breath before gasping, “Faye, you’re choking me.”
Faye stood back, taking the trio in with her mischievous eyes. “It’s so good to be home. I missed all of you so much!”
Her twin hugged her round the waist and said, “Are you all right? Maybe we should have given you another day to rest before the party?” Jo’s was the voice of care and concern in place of their parents.
Faye’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “Uh—glad you didn’t! ’Cause I wouldn’t have forgiven you!”
Jo frowned. “Hey, we’d have been happy with just the four of us, right, Amie?”
Amie was sneaking another chocolate candy into her mouth while the twins were arguing, and froze when Jo called her out. “Uh, yeah, sure we would.”
Faye stuck her hip out with attitude and said, “Come on, Amie, you know without these parties you wouldn’t ever meet anyone new.”
Between munches of heavenly chocolate Amie held up her hands and shrugged. “You ever see me or James anywhere beyond this table? I’m an introvert, you doofus.”
But Faye was already on a roll, listing off the many reasons why it was necessary they be friends. “Like you’d ever meet any decent guys without my help. When was the last time you went on a date? And we all remember how that turned out.”
Amie growled through another sampling of the candy dish, “I do too meet guys on my own!”
“Name one,” Faye challenged.
Amie was over this. She pulled her other hand out of her pocket and dragged the lost key with it. She’d quite forgotten the old metal key until she started waving it around. Instantly Jo perked up from James’ embrace and placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“I met someone this morning, actually. He helped me when I dropped my papers and everything,” Amie declared, leaving out the fact he was the reason she dropped them in the first place.
Jo’s voice cracked as she shrilly interrupted, “You didn’t say anything about a guy earlier.”
Faye zoomed in on the metal and grabbed Amie’s fist mid-flail. “Where did you get this?”
Jo tugged on her arm, and whispered, “I was going to tell you earlier. She found it on the street.” The twins exchanged a long hard look.
Amie used to think it was a twin thing to speak without words. Now she was convinced it was a Jo and Faye thing. Turning to a bemused James, Amie said, “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Or why it’s anybody else’s business, thank you very much.
James chuckled as if to say, Better you than me. Both of them knew once an idea got into the girls’ heads, nearly nothing could turn their minds off it.
&nbs
p; Growing up, she’d noticed their parents, the McSpaddens, tended to lean on the conspiracy theory side of thinking. No one was ever safe, might have been their motto. Even though they allowed their daughters to attend public school, they never told anyone their profession. When Amie’s parents decided to move and introduce his daughter to high society, the McSpaddens moved with them. Yet instead of joining in, they had grown reclusive and, after their friends’ deaths, moved back to Kansas. The twins made themselves her unofficial bodyguards, and Amie had forgotten to think of their behavior as odd.
Fortunately, the one thing that could have successfully divided the twins’ attention at a moment like this walked in the door.
“Hey, isn’t that Dr. Gomora?”
Faye whipped around so fast her dark hair rushed into her eyes when she faced Amie. “What? O-M-G, are you serious? What’s he doing here? Amie, you called him, didn’t you? I can’t believe you invited Ben!”
“Wish I could claim credit,” Amie denied, just thankful the heat was off of her again. She now remembered why she kept the twins out of her love life. It was much easier to vicariously enjoy theirs.
The infamous Ben was standing not so far away now, dark hair perfectly groomed and hanging over his blue eyes. The esteemed doctor had the look of both danger and mystery, the perfect combination Faye couldn’t resist. Faye and Ben had been friends for about a year, ever since working together at a relief camp in Haiti. Judging by the knowing look behind James’ guarded eyes Amie had a fair idea of who had orchestrated this number. The soldier had more contacts than most people suspected.
Faye followed Amie’s gaze with a not-too-casual glance over her shoulder before facing them with a little jump of excitement. As long as Amie had known her, Faye preferred diving headfirst while her twin preferred to think things through. Already her impulsive nature was at work as she shifted her cleavage inside her tight dress and checked her teeth. “Hope you’ll all still love me if I go talk to him. Won’t you?” she asked.
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