“Yes, unfortunately. I’ve had my encounters. He was violent. He pulled one of our workers off a scaffold.”
“I daresay. That sounds just like him. And my Beatrice? Did she ever visit you? She certainly visited me. Only—I didn’t know it was her at the time. She would sit on the edge of my bed and stroke my hair, smelling of birch leaves.”
Eliza smiled, remembering the tapping in her room, the wavery writing on the fog of the window, and the apparition she’d seen in the south wing, pointing her to the truth. “Yes, she did the very same with me. I rather thought she was my friend.”
“Well, she would have liked you. I hope she’s found peace at last.” Matthew’s voice cracked. “That’s what she deserves, my sweet Bea.”
“I’m not sure how you survived everything you’ve endured.”
“We’re often stronger than we think we can be, aren’t we? Especially for our children. My angels were the reason I fought to carry on through a wretched marriage. Otherwise, I’d have weighted my apron with stones and wandered into the Avon.” Matthew closed his eyes. “Mysons protected me. I’ve a free life because of them. I’ll never be sure we went about things the right way. It was an awful burden on them both, keeping all of these secrets. And now, my Malcolm is dead.”
“I’m so sorry.” Once more, Eliza pushed back against the sharpness of her guilt. She’d killed Malcolm, as surely as Matthew had killed Thomas. Yet how could she confess it to the very person who had brought him life? No. This was one secret she’d have to keep. “I suppose none of us can know what twists and turns life will bring us through, can we? Or what we’ll do for the ones we love?”
“Indeed. But doesn’t it make for a queer tale, after all?”
Matthew and Eliza stood on the train platform in Winchester, their breath curling into the cold air.
“Will you tell Gabriel I was here when he wakes?”
“Of course. Perhaps when he’s recovered and my confinement is passed, we’ll pay you a visit with the baby. He promised me Scotland, after all.”
“I’d like that.” Matthew smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The two of you have a right to be happy, you know. We do no service to our dead when we linger too long in our misery.” He pulled on his gloves and lifted the brim of his hat. “Write to me often, darling, and do take care of yourself and my naughty son.”
“I will, I promise. Godspeed, Matthew.”
“Godspeed, Lady Havenwood.”
Gabriel woke on Christmas morning.
The chapel chimes had just rung the hour of eight when Eliza heard a dry whisper of sound. She leapt up from her chair by the grate, thebook she was reading falling to the floor and her heartbeat quickening as she rushed to her husband’s side.
He blinked, wincing at the sterile brightness of the ward. She touched his hand and he turned toward her. A weak smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “Am I really alive?”
Eliza’s tears rolled fast and hot down her cheeks. “You are.”
“I need water,” he rasped.
“I’ll fetch Dr.Fawcett straightaway!”
Eliza flew from the room, tearing down the hallway to Clarence’s office. She flung open the door. He looked up from his paperwork, startled at her sudden intrusion.
“Doctor, come quickly! My husband is awake!”
They moved into Sherbourne House on the first day of the new century—a morning so bright and full of sunshine it chased every shadow from the empty house as soon as Eliza pulled the drapes.
Lydia had left things immaculate, the furniture neatly covered with sailcloth, the dust on the trimwork barely perceptible. Gabriel sat warming by the fireplace in the parlor as she flurried around, fluffing pillows and tidying up the kitchen. Finally, she sat next to him, her face heated by her exertions. He pulled her close and kissed her temple. “My darling, you’ve done enough. There will be time for more adjustments once Turner and Duncan come home.”
Eliza thought of the ruins of Havenwood Manor, smoldering as the last of the fire spent itself on the cold ground. “They’ll be devastated, won’t they? It all seems like a nightmare. Did they know anything about your ruse? I have a feeling they did.”
“Yes, they were party to it. Malcolm and our mother had to tell them everything in order to keep me hidden away. It meant we couldn’t hire on more staff, and as Malcolm’s paranoia grew, he began to trusteven their loyalty less.” Gabriel closed his eyes. “I wish you could have known him in the years before his illness took away what was left of his gentleness. He was troubled, tortured and shaped by our father’s cruelty. But he wasn’t evil.”
“I saw glimpses of his true nature, from time to time.” She pulled away from Gabriel and moved to the hearth. A log cracked, sending a flurry of sparks from the grate. She quickly stomped them out with her shoe. “I started the fire that destroyed your home and killed your only brother. How can you forgive me for that? And then there’s the matter of Eastleigh. What if someone finds out what you’ve done? I’m still not sure how we’re meant to move forward from all of this. How can I trust that you won’t go down the same path as Malcolm? That you won’t turn to murder and thievery ever again? I don’t even know who you are.”
“Eliza, look at me.Reallylook at me.”
She turned to study him. His cheeks were less gaunt than they’d been days before, the fiery spark in his viridian eyes returning. But for the first time, she noticed the subtle differences—the pale scar that marked his forehead like a shooting star, the mole beneath his left ear. How could she not have known?
“I love you,” he murmured. “Ilove you. There will be no more lies, at least between these walls. I’m sorry for the horrible things I’ve done. And as for Malcolm and the fire ... you had no choice.” Gabriel stood and drew her to his chest, the subtle rattle of his breath rumbling between them. “Every moment from this day forward will be spent regaining your trust and love. We’ll raise our family, we’ll carry on, and wewillbe happy again, my darling. I can promise you that.”
