by Meara Platt
“I’ve done the best I could under the circumstances. Where was your family when Charlie needed help?”
Lord Eastbourne shook his head. “As I said, my family ought to have done much more. Indeed, we did nothing and for that I am heartsick. But what of King Cadeyrn? The boy’s isolation is taking a toll on his mind, on his ability to tell fantasy from reality. How long before the faerie king and his court are real to him and we become the fantasy?”
“It will never happen,” Julia said shakily, though deep in her heart she feared the same thing.
“You’re worried about him, Julia. I see it in the crease of your brow.” He gazed deeply into her eyes, the darkly intense green of his locking on to her vibrant swirls of silvery violet and blue. “Let the boy come with me. Relinquish guardianship to me. I’ll settle a goodly sum upon you, enough so you will never want for anything. Enough so you might attract a fine gentleman to marry you.”
She groaned in disgust.
“I won’t press charges. Indeed, my father must have willingly given you the funds in that bank account. See? It’s all in the way one interprets a situation.”
“Let me put this in a way you cannot misinterpret,” she said, a cold smile crossing her lips. The earl was hateful, loathsome. Odious. “I don’t care who you bribe to testify against me or what evidence you forge to condemn me. If you try to take Charlie from me, I will shoot you dead. Is that plain enough for you, Lord Eastbourne?”
Chapter 6
Julia’s threat to dispatch him to his Maker annoyed Douglas, but not nearly as much as her righteous indignation. She had appeared so sincere, he almost believed she spoke the truth. “Something is amiss, Mr. Barrow.”
“How so, m’lord?” Homer struggled to keep up with him as they strolled past the church shortly before twilight.
“It didn’t take you very long to find Miss Marsden after I hired you.”
Homer shrugged. “Wasn’t very difficult. I made a few inquiries in Little Dorking where Miss Marsden… that is, Miss Laura Marsden, was raised. That’s where she met yer brother.”
Douglas nodded, ignoring the painful jolt to his heart. He truly missed Charles, his merry laughter and sunny disposition. Indeed, his brother was the most decent man he’d ever known. Always honorable. What other nobleman would have married out of his class? But it was exactly the noble sort of thing Charles would do, willingly and without bitterness.
Ah, his brother would have loved Charlie so much.
Douglas cleared his throat to shake off bittersweet memories. “Go on, Mr. Barrow.”
“Well, the town gossip told me all I needed to know. Vicar Marsden and Julia were at Laura Marsden’s side when she died in childbirth. From what I gather, the vicar attempted to contact yer brother, only to learn he’d died some months earlier. A ridin’ accident, I believe it was. I’m very sorry, my lord. I sense the two of ye were very close.”
“We were.”
“Laura Marsden no doubt held out hope that she and yer brother would marry, but that wish obviously died along with him. I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.”
Douglas said nothing.
“Though her child was born on the wrong side of the sheets, so to speak,” Homer continued, “the vicar and Julia never thought of him that way. They brought him back here and raised him proudly and openly as a Marsden. Why the puzzled frown, my lord?”
“Was your search truly that simple? The men retained by Mr. Twombly couldn’t find Julia or Charlie and they’d tried for months.”
Homer rolled his eyes. “Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lord. I don’t think those men looked very hard, if at all. Had they started in Little Dorking, the trail would have led them straight here. Vicar Marsden is… was… well known in these parts.”
“And Julia has resided here all of her life?”
“Indeed.”
“She wasn’t running from town to town, giving Mr. Twombly’s retainers the slip?”
Homer frowned. “Not at all. Is that what those knaves told ye?”
“Mr. Twombly reported it to me, to be precise.”
“I’m sorry, m’lord. It is obvious that yer solicitor was duped.”
Or had been treating him as the dupe all along. “Thank you for your candor, Mr. Barrow. It is appreciated, as always. I see that you’re tired. You may return to the vicarage if you wish.”
“Yes, please! I’m no mountain goat to be scampering over these hills.”
“Do me the favor of asking Julia to join me.”
“Asking, m’lord?”
He let out a sigh. “No, I wish to speak with her. It is a command.”
“I’ll sit with the lad until ye’ve finished. He’s an excellent child. I won’t mind a bit.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barrow.”
*
Julia spotted Lord Eastbourne standing by the church’s stone fence, his hands clasped behind his back. He had a pensive look upon his face, a soft, yet determined look.
Well, he might have the leisure time to contemplate nature and its bounty, but she had work to do. “It will be dark soon and I haven’t started supper yet.”
“Our conversation won’t take long,” he said, his gaze now fixed upon her. His compelling green eyes, as dark as moss in recessed shadows, followed her movements as she walked to his side.
“I’m certain it won’t,” she said, her blood beginning to boil in contemplation of the next round of their bout. “You’ll call me a liar and I’ll call you–”
“An arrogant… I had better not say aloud what I’m certain you’re thinking.” He cast her a wry grin, an appealingly boyish grin that she refused to admit was quite charming. “I’m sorry, Julia. I spoke out of turn earlier, casting accusations and wanting those accusations to be true. I failed to give you the chance to defend yourself.”
She eyed him with suspicion. What new game was he playing? What new tactic was he devising to part her from Charlie?
“I know I will have to earn your trust,” he said, cutting into her thoughts.
She let out a snort.
“A task made more difficult since I don’t quite trust you,” he continued.
She tossed back her head and raised her chin in defiance. “Don’t waste your time chattering about trust, my lord. I will never trust you, nor any Eastbourne, for that matter.”
“But you’ll have to if you hope to maintain relations with Charlie.”
She curled her hands into fists, a natural pose for her ever since his arrival. “Are you threatening me again?”
“No, Julia.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What I mean is that I rushed to judgment and I’m now willing to listen to what you have to say.”
“How considerate of you. Am I supposed to gush and flit about you, call you the most generous of lords?”
“No. You’re just supposed to tell me the truth, and only the truth, no matter how poorly it may reflect on you.”
“On me!” She drew in a breath and let it out in a great heave of indignation. “I am as I have always been.”
“And what is that?”
“Fair, loyal, honest. I’m not perfect, but I’m kind to most and loving to my family. And Charlie is the most important member of my family.” She wasn’t going to add that he was her only surviving family now that Laura and her father had passed on.
But he must have sensed her anguish, for he whispered gently, “Go on.”
“What else is there to say? Ah, the blackmail scheme you think I devised to cheat your family. And what knowledge do I have that your family would pay ransom to keep quiet? That Charlie is your brother’s by-blow?”
“Is it so far-fetched? We Eastbournes are an honorable family.”
“With a proud reputation to uphold?” She let out a bitter laugh. “And what of the consequences to Charlie? Do you think I would involve him in my tawdry schemes, toss him into the jaws of Society, subject him to revulsion and derision for a few gold coins?”
“Perhaps, if you were desperate enou
gh. And they were bank drafts, not coins.”
“What?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at her, no doubt trying to intimidate her by his size and brawn. He was impossible to overlook, for his muscles rippled whenever he shifted his stance. “No gold coins were exchanged. Funds were placed into your bank account several times a year.”
“Someone’s account, not mine. Ah, you still don’t believe me. Very well, I confess.” She motioned to her gown and then toward the vicarage. “As you can see, I’ve bled your family dry so that I may live in the lap of luxury.”
He frowned at her obvious sarcasm. “I know you live modestly.”
“But you’d rather believe me a thief than admit you’ve made a terrible mistake. Some things are more important than wealth, but I doubt you Eastbournes will ever understand that. Riches, rank, and power are all you care about. All I care about is Charlie. I’d sooner die than ever hurt him.”
She took a long breath to smother her indignation, but that anger was replaced by a heartfelt sorrow that made her lips quiver as she struggled to hold back tears. “That sweet, precious boy dreams of being legitimate, of being a child conceived in love by his mother and father. He knows he isn’t and it simply eats him up inside, so he pretends. He spends his days creating a make-believe world, populated by fabled creatures who have made him their noble prince, the rightful heir to the faerie king, and not some fancy nobleman’s mistake.”
“We must speak of King Cadeyrn, as well.”
“He isn’t important,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s merely a creature contrived by Charlie’s overwhelming desire for acceptance. I’ve spent years trying to vanquish his doubts, trying to convince him that his parents loved him, that they loved each other and were married in their hearts. After all, that’s what truly matters.”
“I would like to believe so, but the truth is that love alone cannot right all wrongs.”
This time she let out a ragged breath. “It doesn’t remove the supposed taint to his heritage, but good people – and that’s what the inhabitants of Borrowdale are – don’t judge or condemn on the basis of bloodline. They accept and love Charlie for the wonderful boy he is. All the affection in the world won’t change the circumstances of his birth, but can lessen the importance he places on it, dull the pain he carries in his innocent heart.”
The earl’s frown deepened.
She decided to press her argument in the face of his silence. “So leave him here with me, Lord Eastbourne. Please! Visit him as often as you wish, provide the little necessities for him. I won’t deny it will be much appreciated, though I won’t take anything for myself. Don’t drag him into your world, because you and your friends, your well-heeled Society friends with impeccable bloodlines and impossible standards, will make him a very unhappy little boy.”
“Thank you, Julia,” he said after a painfully long moment. “You are dismissed.”
Dismissed! There went her hands again, balling into tight little fists, but she kept them at her sides and was glad she did so when she heard the words that followed. “With my sincere thanks,” he said in a voice tinged with compassion, “for all you’ve sacrificed for Charlie.”
He could have omitted the compliment, insisted that Charlie would leave with him at the end of the week, but he didn’t. He’d said “thank you” quite gently and that, to her, was a most promising sign.
*
“Here, lass. Let me help ye set the table,” Homer offered the following morning. The day shone brighter for the hope Julia now harbored within her breast that Lord Eastbourne might succumb to reason.
Charlie smiled up from his painting, this one an idyllic scene of King Cadeyrn swimming with water faeries in the nearby lake known as Derwentwater. “Good morning, Mr. Barrow.”
“And a good mornin’ to ye, bonnie lad,” Homer replied, exchanging warm greetings and playfully ruffling Charlie’s hair. “A little cold for a swim today, don’t ye think?”
Charlie nodded. “It is, but faeries don’t feel the cold. They don’t feel anything, and that’s their problem. King Cadeyrn says that if he doesn’t do all in his power to fulfill the Fae prophecy, they’ll all turn into demons of the Underworld. Then we’ll all be in danger.”
Homer shook his head in obvious bemusement. “Lad, ye certainly have a knack for storytelling.” He turned to Julia, appearing quite eager to change the topic of conversation. “Now, about that help in setting the table. What can I do, lass?”
“Thank you for the offer, but you’re a guest and–”
“Won’t hear of it. It isn’t in my nature to stand idly by. Besides, Mrs. Barrow will box my ears if she hears I’ve taken advantage of yer kindness.”
Julia had to admit she was grateful for the extra hand. She instructed him to gather the plates, linen, and silverware she had just taken out of the cupboard and set them in the sitting room beside the breakfast table. She carried in the eggs, buns, porridge, and coffee.
The earl, to her surprise, also joined in to speed the task before settling in beside Charlie and leafing through a set of drawings in a sketchbook at the boy’s side. “Scary looking dragon,” he remarked with a mock shudder. “Is that one Brihann, the fearsome black dragon you told us about?”
“No, this one is Bloodaxe and he was born a man. This is what he looks like when he shifts into his dragon shape. Brihann is the other black dragon. He’s High King of the Dragon Lords. He’s King Cadeyrn’s uncle and pure evil. He wants to destroy us all, but Cadeyrn won’t let him. That’s what the name Cadeyrn means – battle king. That’s what he does, battle Dragon Lords and demons. He’s done it for thousands of years.”
Lord Eastbourne arched an eyebrow. “Most impressive.”
Julia noted the little swell of pride and pleasure in the boy, which improved her bright start to the day. “Set your dragons aside for the moment, Charlie. We don’t want our breakfast to grow cold.”
“A man can’t ask for more in life. Good food, good friends, and a hearty appetite,” Homer announced once they were seated, had said grace, and were ready to dig in.
“I know this meal is not as grand as you’re used to, Lord Eastbourne,” Julia said. She’d noticed his thoughtful expression and wondered if he had a lack of enthusiasm for the meager spread.
He shook his head. “Grandeur and good taste do not always go hand in hand. I’d settle on such an excellent meal as you’ve prepared every morning. It’s delicious, Julia. You’ve been most gracious despite our – er, differences of opinion. It has not escaped my notice.”
She hadn’t expected yet another compliment and hoped it boded well for future discussions, which she feared would not proceed as smoothly. However, she would not be the one to break the merry mood. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Douglas.”
“Pardon?”
“I give you permission to call me Douglas.”
My, this was indeed progress. “Well… er…”
“Douglas, and I shall call you Julia.”
She merely smiled, unwilling to point out that he’d addressed her familiarly almost from the moment they’d met.
“We’ll be in close quarters for the rest of the week,” he continued, “and I think it will help to be on more cordial terms.”
“I suggested it, Julia,” Charlie said, his smile widening.
“And I thought it was an excellent idea,” Lord Eastbourne added. He glanced down at his breakfast, stuffed a bite of sausage in his mouth, then turned to Charlie and tossed him a wink.
Charlie smiled back.
Homer, since they were all purportedly on friendly terms, poured himself a cup of coffee. “Would ye care for a cup, m’lord?”
“Indeed, I would.”
Julia shook her head – well, it wouldn’t do for the earl’s hired help to call him “Douglas”. But she had just been elevated in his esteem to a notch above “enemy”, even above “hired help”. She wasn’t certain where it placed her, for they cer
tainly were not on equal footing.
She dug into her eggs and a slice of fat rascal, unwilling to admit that she preferred the softening in her relation with the earl. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to call him Douglas.
Douglas.
Douglas, my friend.
Oh, they were quite far from that, even though they’d shared a delicious kiss.
She felt her face start to heat and quickly snapped out of her musing.
Thankfully, the men seemed to be paying more attention to each other – Charlie included in the definition of men. That didn’t quite suit her either. She’d gone to the trouble of fixing herself up, selecting one of her prettier gowns to wear this morning. Not that she had very many from which to choose, but this high-waisted blue merino, the delicate blue of a robin’s egg, was most flattering to her complexion. And she’d fashioned her hair in a stylish chignon, held together by pale blue butterfly pins.
Had any of these men noticed?
No! Not even Charlie!
And now there was a knock at the door. Just what she needed, another mouth to feed! She had barely enough to keep herself and Charlie nourished.
She motioned for the men to remain comfortable in their seats, though both had already risen and were preparing to escort her to the door. After a silent exchange between the men, it was apparently decided that Homer would escort her.
“Mornin’, Miss Julia,” young Arthur Dunne, the baker’s nephew, said while drawing out a letter from under his oilcloth and handing it to her. “My uncle told me to bring this to you straight away, seein’ as how it looked mighty official.”
“Thank you, Arthur. Would you care to join us for breakfast?”
“No’um, Miss Julia. I’m expected back at the bakery. But I’ll pop around in a few days to see Charlie. Can you tell him thank you, and that King Cadeyrn was right?”
She quirked her head. “About what?”
His cheeks turned blotchy and red. “Aw, it isn’t somethin’ to be mentioned in front of a lady. Better get m’self off now. Ta-ra, Miss Julia.”
She stared at the lanky lad of seventeen as he awkwardly backed away, watching the little apple at his throat bob up and down. He was only a few years younger than she, but the difference in their ages felt much greater. While he was going to dances, courting a sweetheart, and listening to advice from Charlie’s imaginary friends, she was struggling to keep a roof over their heads.
