In a daze, Amelia bypassed her maid, using every last bit of her strength to keep her chin high and march up the stairs with a straight backbone. At the first floor landing, however, she gripped the balustrade with white knuckles, unable to clear the final step.
Colin’s bedroom door gaped open. Nemo’s blue eyes peeked out, hope lighting his face, an old book clutched in his hands. “Is the master home, miss?”
No. And he never would be again.
Choking, Amelia fled to her room, searching her pocket for her feather, tears once again flowing fast and free. Inside the quiet of her chamber, she stopped, breathing hard, staring fervently at the lucky charm in her hand. It hadn’t protected her from Peckwood’s attack. It hadn’t made Colin’s surgery successful or stopped him from plunging off the cliff. It was useless. Senseless. As pathetic as the hope she’d put into it…hope that would’ve been better spent in trusting for God’s provision instead of a feather’s—instead of her own.
An ugly sob tore out of her. Merciful Saviour! That’s exactly what she’d done, relied not only on an ornamental bit of bird fluff and other assorted superstitions, but on herself, on her own ability to keep her world—and Colin’s—in order. In a very real sense, she’d played God. She bowed her head, heart aflame.
Oh God, it seems all I can do is ask Your forgiveness. Again and again and again.
Straightening her spine, Amelia marched to the window, then forced up the sash. Cool evening air wafted in. She leaned out and held up the Ibis feather as an offering. It had done her no good, and never would. And now she knew it was never meant to.
So she let go.
The feather caught a whisper of a draft, floating away and disappearing into the night. Gone for good. For the first time in the past several hours, a small smile ghosted her lips. Never again would she put one smidgeon of faith in luck or in her own means of control, but in God alone.
For if she did not cling to her faith here and now, she would never survive the awful pain in her heart.
THIRTY-ONE
“Enter the house of mourning, my friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you….”
How dare the sun rise so merrily? The July sky promise such a beautiful day? It was wrong. Blasphemous. The world had lost a bright and magnificent soul last night. The least it could do was rain.
Sighing, Amelia pressed her forehead against the window, the glass cool, her eyes swollen, and stared aimlessly out over a patchwork of rooftops. Beyond them all, a ship was set to sail this morn. The voyage would have changed her life. But, oh, how irreparably changed it already was.
How I will miss you, my brother, my heart.
Tears should fall now, but none were left. Her reservoir had drained into her pillow during a night of haunted sleep. If Graham had come calling, her laudanum-induced stupor hadn’t registered him. But at this moment? Oh, what she wouldn’t give to feel his strong arms holding her close and hear his whisper in her ear.
With yet another sigh, she padded over to Colin’s bed. The sheets were still mussed from when he’d tossed and turned here only yesterday. Was it wrong to bear such a profound sorrow for him when she’d not mourned so woefully the passing of her own father?
Bending, she pressed her palm to his pillow and smoothed out the wrinkles. Strange that Betsey hadn’t ordered the housemaid to haul up a load of fresh linens. Then again, her maid had her hands full with fretting over her now.
“He were a good man.”
Her gaze drifted to a small voice at her side. Nemo’s blue eyes peered up at her beneath a ragged fringe of hair. How could the child move on such quiet feet? She’d not heard so much as a toe scuff or heel scrape when he’d entered the room.
“Betsey told you, then?”
He nodded, his soulful eyes overlarge. “You want I should leave now?”
“Leave?” She scrunched her nose. Had Betsey asked him to run an errand on her behalf and yet he still sought her approval? “Where are you going?”
He shrugged, his thin shoulders poking up like little knobs. “A new hidey-hole somewhere.”
Just when she thought her heart couldn’t possibly break more, another chip fell away. It wasn’t right that one so young should have to fend for himself in this cold world.
“No.” She wove her fingers through his. “We shall both leave. Together.”
He pulled away, turning in circles with his arms outstretched. “Ye mean ye’re leaving this mansion?” Wonder laced his voice.
Not surprising, really. This was a beautiful home, but she’d flee today if there weren’t a body to find and a burial to attend to. How would she ever be able to pass by Colin’s door without breaking down? She shook her head. “I cannot live here anymore.”
The boy stopped spinning, a knowing look in his eyes far beyond that of a child. “It’s not the same without him, is it?”
“No, it is not.”
