Morris saw Gideon’s knuckles gleam white as he clung to the top of the chest of drawers, but his voice was calm when he asked, “And you have not heard from Sir Mark since early this morning?”
“Oh, yes, sir. We have. Come to think of it, it was just afore Mr. Newby left. Sir Mark sent round for a change of clothes. The lackey what come says as Sir Mark and General Underhill found out they’s related in a distant way, and Sir Mark is invited to overnight with the general.”
Gideon stared at her blankly.
“Dash it all,” said Morris, “but you’re a good little gal. Tell me now, did Mr. Newby not leave any word for his father that he was going away?”
The maid blushed. “I can’t say, sir. But I did see a letter on Sir Mark’s bed, like it might’ve—” She broke off with a startled squeal and ran aside as Gideon plunged for the door.
“’Pon my word,” she exclaimed. “The captain seems a mite upset, sir, I do hope as nothing’s wrong?”
Morris sighed. “’Fraid Captain Rossiter’s been storing milk in a sieve,” he said ruefully, and hastened after his friend.
The maid stared after him, wishing she might see the day that Captain Rossiter spent one second messing about with milk—in anything!
Morris entered Sir Mark’s bedchamber, and halted, his apprehension justified. Gideon knelt beside the bed, head bowed onto his arms and a crumpled sheet of paper in one clenched hand.
“My poor fellow,” said Morris gently, bending over him.
Gideon did not move. “He’s… taken them…” His voice was muffled and shaking. “He says… he’s off to the New World. My God!” His voice broke on what sounded suspiciously like a sob.
Horrified by such an unnerving display of emotion, Morris sat on the bed and patted Rossiter’s bowed shoulder awkwardly. “Do you think he’s gone to that collector fellow? Kendall-thingummy, wasn’t it?”
A silence. Then Rossiter said dully, “I have loved her—all my life… But I went off, like a perfect fool, and—and left her. I threw away six… precious years. I keep remembering her at Emerald Farm… just the day before yesterday. The way she looked at me, with her pretty mouth trying so hard not to—not to weep… and how her voice trembled when she—she said she would not love me again. ‘I will not let you hurt me,’ she said. And—” His voice rose to a cry of agony. “God help me, but I’ve hurt her! I’d better have died than—than hurt her again!” His clenched fists beat at the bed. Racked, he bowed lower.
“What a disgusting display,” drawled a contemptuous voice from the door.
Scowling, Morris jerked around. “Leave him be, Falcon. He’s suffered a great shock, is all.”
“Shock, my Aunt Maria! He suffers from lack of spine, more like!”
Rossiter raised his head and put shaking hands over his face. “Yes,” he whispered. “I never knew, you see… what ’twas like to be… so afraid. If—if they harm her…”
“Well, much you are doing to prevent it! I came up to wash and find a clean shirt. An you can command some trace of gumption, I’d also like to see these famous icons.”
Rossiter dragged himself to his feet, and turned around.
Morris stared, shocked. This strong man with the splendid battle record, who had so bravely endured his long and painful hospital sojourn, had in just a few minutes been shattered not by a physical thing, but by the terrible hand of grief. He was shaking visibly, his face was haggard and deathly pale, a dazed look of pain in his eyes made it hard to meet them, and there were deep lines between his brows and beside his mouth.
“They’re—gone.” Rossiter held out his brother’s note.
“What?”Falcon snatched it, read, and swore furiously. “That slithering little bastard! Where has he run to?”
Rossiter put an unsteady hand to his temple. “I—cannot seem to—to think.”
Seizing him by the cravat, Falcon snarled, “Wake up, damn you!” Infuriated, he drew back his hand. It was caught in an iron grip, and Morris said angrily, “You’ll just make it worse. Did you never love anything, Falcon? Anylady?”
“Yes, I did, damn you!” Wrenching free, Falcon said, “If my sister had been made off with by some stinking swine, I’d not be sitting here whimpering, I can tell you! And considering he loves her so blasted much, ’tis a pity he didn’t remember it whilst he was cavorting about with his lightskirts in Holland!”
“Is no good to water last year’s cabbages.”
Taken offstride, Falcon stared at him. “Why thedevilare you babbling about cabbages?”
Morris’ lip curled in disgust. “One cannot expect a man with all yournousto understand a simple simile!” He flung up one hand. “No,” he said with rare dignity, “I’ll not come to cuffs with you now. Only try not to be such a fool! Go and get your shirt. Gideon’s room is the end door on the right. I’ll take him downstairs. After he’s put some food and brandy inside him, he’ll likely come to himself.”
For a moment Falcon looked more inclined to do bloody murder than to follow this sensible suggestion, but he ground his teeth, muttered darkly about a “day of reckoning,” and took himself off.
Morris put his arm across Gideon’s shoulders. “Come along, my poor fellow. Lord, but you’re shaking like a leaf.”
