An Ever Fixéd Mark (53 page)

“I love Ben. I know I loved him then. But I
ruined another life. And I think I must pay for it.”

Claire handed her the goblet. “You have free
will, Elizabeth. You have determination to change your physical
self. Don’t you think you have the will to overcome this?”

Lizzie fingered the cool goblet and met the
dark eyes. “I… I’m not sure.”

“Drink that. Maybe you will see the
answer.”

Lizzie took a small sip and rested the glass
on her knee. Claire said nothing. Lizzie didn’t know what else to
say without further pushing her sanity on the subject of Ben. The
silence in the room deepened, only disturbed by the cracking of
logs on the fireplace. In agitation, she took another deep swallow
of the cloudy liquid.

“I feel like I’m living that other life,”
Lizzie broke the silence with her mindless sigh.

“Do you want to change that?”

“I don’t want to be a servant for the rest
of my life.”

“Then don’t be.”

Lizzie looked at the remainder of the green
cloud.

“You have the determination to run a
marathon. Why can’t you determine a new path?”

“I always end up with the same people. I
don’t know if I want anyone else,” Lizzie met the dark eyes and
took the last of the green liquid. She put the glass on the table
and felt the atmosphere shift into sharper contrast. The tick of
the small wooden clock on the mantelpiece echoed. She heard the
movement of the warm air from the flames waft up the chimney. The
ridges of the upholstery’s brocade grew under her fingertips.

“Decide what you want, Elizabeth. Decide and
then choose to make it happen.”

Lizzie let out a breath as the warmth of the
fire colored her cheeks. The sad fortitude of those dark eyes
burned something within her. Impatience. An urge to go somewhere.
Do something. Move. Feel. Not somewhere else. That moment was so
vivid. So real. So important. Like she was on one side of the door
about to unlock it and see what was on the other side. Something in
her mind was waiting to reveal itself. Something… something that
would explain everything.

Her dream was so vivid. The dream after she
gave her blood to that vampire. That blood was coloring her cheeks
and … making her heart beat. Lizzie looked at Claire’s peasant
blouse and wondered if the heart slowed back to normal. She turned
to Claire and untied the top of the blouse and slid her hand across
the left breast, finding the pyrrhic rhythm. She saw the dark eyes
staring with admiration and sorrow and a new hunger. Lizzie leaned
towards her and gave in to the kiss that met her lips.

*****

She fastened the buttons of her dress with
agitated fingers. Even with the half moon, a silver light crept
into the room, enough to find her shoes and cap without bumping
into the furniture. The bed was left in shadow, provoking her
agitation. She didn’t want her to wake and stop her from
leaving.

She crept through the door, careful to take
her time and not provoke the creak of the bottom hinge. She
silently pulled the latch into place and let out a deep sigh with
her escape. She didn’t know how to face the morning, but staying
through the evening was impossible. Her fingers still shook in the
kitchen. Annie’s fire was low, but still burning. She added another
log to the flames and found the pitcher of water. She drank all of
it, resolving to go back to the well after allowing a few moments
in front of the growing flames.

He was standing in the unlit corner of the
room. Her heart leapt and increased its rhythm. He was waiting for
her. She knew he would be, but didn’t think he would have remained
so long.

She reached her fingers to her neck, making
certain the collar of her dress concealed the marks. He knew they
were there. He gave her marks like that. He wanted to do it again.
She could see it in the glare of those gray green eyes. She didn’t
want him. She didn’t want…

He stepped into the light of the fire. She
shut her eyes. Vile, vile creature. They were the same. She
couldn’t let herself think differently. She knew their plan now.
Charlotte made it very clear why he came back. It wasn’t for her.
It was to marry and murder Harriet. Like Horace. They were using
her, making her part of their contemptible plan. She had to leave.
She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave those green eyes that
haunted her dreams since the night of the wedding.

He muttered something about her silence. She
said nothing to break it. He asked her about a book. She didn’t
want to know about a book. He asked some trifle about the weather.
The fury burst from her lips. She told him what Charlotte
explained. About Mr. Fulton’s niece and the truth of her
consumption in France. About the larger plans for the Fultons… her
family.

She lunged out of her chair to strike him.
She was angry that he didn’t say anything to argue against her, to
say he wasn’t a monster. Her hand landed against his face with more
pain for her than him. She lifted her other arm to try again, but
he took hold of it and held her still. He looked with those green
eyes, forcing her to cry the tears that reflected his sadness. She
saw his struggle. He didn’t want Charlotte any more than she did.
He wanted escape. He wanted her. He wanted her more than the money.
More than blood.

He let her go, took his hat, and left the
room. She cried again, afraid that she drove him away. She wanted
the green eyes to come back. She had to protect Harriet, but would
risk her safety if it meant those eyes would look at her again.

*****

Lizzie saw the dead leaves rustle in the
wind across the driveway. It was the only sound on the street.
Strange for a Saturday afternoon in early March. She glanced at her
phone and checked the time she called for the cab. It had been
fifteen minutes. They said ten. She figured it would be twenty. She
wasn’t in a panic. She just didn’t want to linger forever outside
the house.

The night and the morning were a blur. She
felt the stiffening of muscles she hadn’t stretched in a long time.
She knew she slept a little – enough to dissipate the alcohol from
her bloodstream. Probably just over an hour to quiet her mind and
fade out the tornado of images. The night and the morning were a
blur. When she opened her eyes in the guest room… she assumed it
was a guest room, she found her clothes neatly arranged by a pile
of towels. She didn’t find Claire in the big house after she
showered and dressed. She wasn’t in the library or the foyer or any
room below, none of which showed the remnants of the night before.
Not even the pretty green bottle and spoon.

She found her coat on a table in the foyer
with a number to call for a cab. It was written on the back of a
calling card for Claire Chamberlain, with her phone and email.
There was an option, if Lizzie decided to take it, to contact her
again.

On it was a date Lizzie calculated to nine
weeks. Lizzie couldn’t process that thought. She couldn’t move
forward to think about the future. The past became so vividly
apparent at that house. Images that had nothing to do with the
female vampire. What was it about that night that made Lily’s mind
so clear? Was it the surreal circumstance of the evening? Was it
the absinthe? Was it that Lizzie abandoned her conscious and just
gave into her body? Had her encounter with Claire opened up that
part of her mind? Did she just need something else to put her into
Lily’s head and feel her sensations, feel her joy, feel her
pain?

She glanced at her phone again. She wanted
to call Ben. She wanted to ask him if he understood this. If he was
as aware of Matthew Chamberlain and his wife as they were of him.
If he knew other vampires who mated with lovers they had in several
lifetimes, in the form of different bodies, but always the same
soul. Maybe the Chamberlains were unique. Maybe more were like
Oliver who went from mate to mate to mate looking for something
they would never find. And when they realized what they wanted that
person to be and she wasn’t… she died.

The stillness of the air settled as the
leaves stopped moving. Why couldn’t she see all of Lily’s thoughts?
Why did they only come in pieces? Why didn’t she have the complete
memory? There was more, more than she had ever seen or known or
felt. But there was still something missing. Something the absinthe
didn’t let her see. What was Lily hiding? Why did she agree to
marry Oliver if the green eyes haunted her thoughts as much as they
haunted Lizzie? What did the green eyes do? Why didn’t Lily want to
remember the reason she chose Tom? Was she ashamed? Or was she
scared?

She heard the car come down the road and saw
it slow in front of the driveway. She looked back briefly to the
house. A small part of her wondered if there was still a key to
Lily’s thoughts inside. Was there enough of the green bottle left
to bring her back to the Fulton house again? She saw the cab idling
and decided to go home.

Chapter
Thirty-Three

Lizzie lifted a piece of asparagus from the
plate and carefully wrapped it with pastry dough. She set it on the
baking sheet and stopped before picking up the next slender green
stalk.

“So when are you coming back to the Fulton
House?” Andrew carefully cut his scones into small triangles.

“I like having Saturdays free.”

“Free for what?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.
“You’re less cranky. Are you seeing someone?”

Lizzie picked up another slender green stalk
and pursed her lips. “No.”

“Are you screwing anyone?” he laughed and
took another section of dough to shape.

She looked at him briefly, knowing of all
her friends Andrew wouldn’t raise his eyebrow at her night of
absinthe the previous weekend. Well, leaving out the part about the
blood and flashbacks to another life. “Andrew,” she set another
finished piece on the baking sheet. “I’m less grumpy because I’m
having fun. I enjoy cooking with you.”

“I enjoy it, too, lovely,” he leaned across
the island and kissed her cheek.

“Then why don’t we do it more often?”

“Cook for your friends’ baby showers?”

“Or any shower. Or any wedding. Or any
party,” Lizzie took in a deep breath. “Why DON’T we start a
business, Andrew?”

“We’ve always said …”

“We’ve always said. Why don’t we do it?”
Lizzie wiped her buttery hands on a towel and got the pile of
papers from her bag. “I’ve been doing some research. I think we
could qualify for a business loan. We’d have to start part time to
keep our jobs… but, Andrew, we could do it.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” Lizzie added determination
to the thoughts she let roll about in her brain since she decided
to change the resemblance of her life to Lily’s.

Andrew froze a look towards her. “I’d have
to talk to Davis.”

“Of course.”

“But, he does his theater and doesn’t make
any money. I can do this and… hell, we could make money.”

“That is the point.”

“God, I hate my job.”

“It would be hard work, Andrew,” Lizzie
looked at the papers. “But, I’ve planned so many events at the
hospital. You have an exquisite eye for presentation. And we both
know flavor. We should… we should at least try.”

Andrew broke into a broad smile. Lizzie knew
it was not just a twist of his charm. “Let’s do it.”

“We could cook Davis dinner tonight and
sweeten the deal.”

“I’ll make his favorite pasta alfredo. You
want to make that torte he loves so much?” Andrew winked. “He won’t
be able to refuse.”

“I like the way you think, Andrew,” Lizzie
returned to her asparagus.

Andrew took his full tray and put it into
the oven. He paused and turned carefully. “I saw that Ben’s place
sold this week.”

Lizzie swallowed, losing the glow of
confidence. It was information she was going to have to process
sooner or later. “Oh?”

“I saw the sign … no word from him?”

“He moved to Chicago, Andrew,” Lizzie
concentrated on her hors d’oeuvres.

“Yeah, but … never mind,” Andrew shook his
head. Lizzie wished he finished his thought. She knew she had no
right for that expectation. Not when she left out so much
information with her friends all the time. They knew nothing,
nothing about what plagued her mind. She couldn’t even tell Andrew
the primary motivation for her sudden devotion to starting a
business. And yet… if it succeeded, hopefully she could go back to
having a life where she didn’t have to lie to her friends. Where
she could just be Elizabeth Watson and not have to worry about what
her friends might say if they knew what she did after a book
signing. She hoped, but she knew no matter how much she threw
herself into this project, she could never go back to what it was
before she knew Lily.

*****

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with all
this,” Nora sighed as they entered the condo after the third trip
back to Lizzie’s car.

“You will find a place for it,” Lizzie
dropped the gift bag by the coffee table. “You’ll keep yourself
busy for the next few weeks arranging it all.”

“Mark will help me,” Nora went to the
kitchen. Lizzie followed and accepted a glass of seltzer. “Do you
want to stay for dinner?”

“Your mother’s cake filled me to the
brim.”

“It was a good cake, but not as good as the
rest of the food,” Nora put the seltzer back in the refrigerator.
“I’m glad you and Andrew are finally putting your talents to use. I
told my aunts of your plans. They want to hire you.”

“One of them took my phone number,” Lizzie
let the smile and not the lump in her throat overtake her.

“
I imagine I am going to
see you even less if you are working and starting a business,” Nora
walked back towards the living room.