As You Wish (12 page)

“I don’t know.  You reveal so little about your life.”

She pursed her lips.  “I have my reasons.”

“What atrocities can you possibly need to hide from me?”  Once again forced to ponder her involvement in espionage, he sat up.  “What could you have to fear from me?”

She sat up, too, rubbing her temples.  “You did once threaten to lock me up in Bedlam.”

He winced at the smallness of her usually confident voice.  Reaching forward, he lifted her chin to look into her eyes.  “I only said that to keep you from trying to leap into the spring again.  I never intended to commit you to an asylum.”

“If not, you still might, after I tell you everything.”  She moved free of his grasp and began packing up the leftover food, plates and utensils.  Only when she had folded the cloth and returned it to the basket did she look at him again.  “If I confide something that sounds crazy to you, can you promise to keep it to yourself?”

“Of course.”  He tried not to show the excitement that surged in him.

She pressed her lips together, studying his face.  “I’m really at your mercy, David.  If your family throws me out of the house, I have nowhere else to go.”

“I promise,” he said, his mind racing, “as long as what you tell me entails no harm to them.”

“I would never harm such nice people.”  She stood and took several steps away before turning back to face him.  “I’m from the future.”

Her abrupt statement made no sense, but the gravity of her expression unnerved him.  “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t really understand either.  I’m not even sure how to attempt an explanation.”  She chewed her lower lip.  “Before you found me at the spring, I lived in the future--at the beginning of the twenty-first century.  The other afternoon, I took a tour of Solebury House that ended with a visit to the spring.  I found that gold coin . . . well, the details don’t even matter.  In short, I fell into the little pool but felt as though I’d been sucked into an abyss.  I thought I was going to drown.  Then you pulled me out, and suddenly it was 1825 . . . almost two hundred years in my past.”

He stared at her, clinging to a thread of hope that her solemn face might dissolve into laughter, revealing the story for a jest.  As seconds ticked by with no change in her expression, nausea began gnawing at him.

“Just before I fell in the water, I had tossed a coin into the spring--a coin from
this
time period.  I think that’s what instigated my transport.”  She frowned when he didn’t respond, her voice quavering.  “I know the story sounds crazy.”

Crazed, indeed, but she showed no other signs of madness.  On the contrary, she appeared all sense and intellect.  Was she lying then?  Only the worst sort of fabricator could come up with a tale so fantastic.  And for what purpose?  To hide spying activities?  To conceal her identity because of some crime in her past?  He turned away from her, thinking, for a minute, that he actually might be sick.

“I can tell you all about the future, if you want to know,” she said quietly.  “Maybe if I reveal enough, you’ll realize I couldn’t have made everything up.  I’d have to have a very active imagination to--”

“Enough,” he erupted.  He took a minute to breathe deeply, quelling his chagrin by exchanging it for rage.  How stupid could she think him?  He stalked toward the barouche, tossing back over his shoulder, “If you want a ride back to Solebury House, you had best step lively.”

“David, wait!”

He could hear her snap the basket lid shut, then her footfalls as she ran up behind him.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I think I can convince you if you’ll give me a chance.”

“Have you not insulted my intelligence enough?”  He couldn’t bear to look at her.  Turning away, he opened the carriage door.  “You can ride inside.”

For a moment, she stood still, then he listened to her climb into the carriage.      

When she spoke again, her tone sounded high-pitched and urgent.  “When you calm down a little, I want to talk to you, David.  Please.”

He let the door bang shut and climbed onto the box.  On the way back to Solebury House, the horses could not gallop fast enough for him.  He passed the whole ride agonizing for the moment he could rid himself of his deceitful passenger.

Unfortunately, he could only avoid her for so long.  She could scarcely be trusted enough to leave her on her own.

CHAPTER NINE

“Thank you again for delivering the baskets, Miss Cantrell,” Lady Solebury said, enveloped in a pile of pillows.  Eyes clear and cheeks tinged with pink, she looked reassuringly healthy after her day in bed.  “And thanks, too, for coming up to chat with me about the tenants.  I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed our little coze.”

“My pleasure.”  Leah shifted her position in a well stuffed armchair beside the bed, thinking just how much a pleasure it had been to escape to her ladyship’s room.  If a barreling ride home inside the carriage hadn’t been enough to make her regret trying to explain the truth to David, his constant glares during dinner certainly had.  She still didn’t know what to expect from him ultimately.  This very moment, he might be telling his father that he thought she should be committed.

She swallowed and tried not to expect the worst, refocusing her attention on Lady Solebury.  “I’m happy to be of use to you.  I feel bad for imposing on your hospitality so much, but for the time being, I’m afraid I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

The marchioness smiled.  “You are welcome here for as long as you like, dear.  Now that I am confined to this bedchamber, I am doubly pleased to have company--not that I want you to feel you must pass all your time with me.  Indeed, tonight you have entertained me far longer than you should have done.  I ought not to have kept you from the gentlemen.”

“I’ve enjoyed our talk,” Leah assured her.  Her ladyship’s accounts of nineteenth-century life had been fascinating--and she hadn’t missed David’s stony looks one bit.  “Besides, I think your stepson had his fill of me this afternoon.”

Lady Solebury gave her a crooked smile.  “I rather doubt that.  My husband told me David brooded all through dinner, but you must not imagine his sulking is directed at you.  As bright a young woman as you are, you cannot have missed the tension between him and his father.”

This evening all the tension had been between him and
her
, but Leah chose not to enlighten her on that point.

“I’ve noticed it, all right,” she said, “and I think David’s bitterness is a shame.  He really should try to lighten up.  I told him as much this morning.”

“Did you, indeed?”  Her ladyship pulled herself up into a sitting position, stuffing pillows behind her back.  “I don’t imagine he accepted your counsel graciously.”

She let out a short laugh.  “Not at all.  He told me to mind my own business.  I suppose I should have.”

“On the contrary, I believe your words may already have had an effect on him.  David has spent this entire evening with his father, an event I have unsuccessfully tried to orchestrate since marrying into the family.  In fact, last night was the first time since his childhood that he has sat down to dinner with his father.  Until this current visit, David has confined all his calls to an hour at most.”

“Really?”  Leah was surprised but didn’t delude herself about her powers of influence.  If David’s staying longer this time had anything to do with her, it was only because he wanted to keep an eye on her.  Still, if his distrust forced him to deal with his father, maybe her presence did some good.  Bringing the two men together might even be her “purpose” here in the nineteenth century--if she had one.

“Really.”  Lady Solebury grinned.  “I suspect the two of them have even concocted some kind of conspiracy between them.”

Leah couldn’t share her amusement.  She could only see David colluding with Lord Solebury if he had a very good reason . . . to protect Phoebe from an insane houseguest, for example.

“What makes you think they are conspiring?” she asked, every muscle in her body tense.

With a glance toward the open hall door, the marchioness lowered her voice.  “When I remarked to Harold about David’s unusual willingness to spend time with him, he told me they had specific business to discuss.  I asked what sort of business, but he put me off, claiming it didn’t signify.  Now, if the matter weren’t important, I am certain David would not tolerate his father’s company.  Clearly, they are scheming together.”

Leah’s anxiety rose to panic level.  They had to be discussing her.  What other matter would concern them both so deeply?  Right now, David was probably relating everything she’d told him, recommending that she be locked away forever.

She looked at the doorway, half-expecting the men to charge through and drag her out of the house.  But they wouldn’t want to upset her ladyship, especially after last night’s scare.  They would wait at least until Leah left the marchioness’s room.  Did that leave her a chance to save herself somehow--to come up with a better story?  Or maybe run away?

“I think I comprehend their game,” Lady Solebury continued, her lips curving upward.  “They are plotting to construct a priest’s hole.  Do you remember David’s mentioning he wanted to speak with Harold this morning?”

“Yes,” Leah managed to utter.  She could feel her pulse throbbing in her throat.  “But why would they hide their plans from you?  The priest’s hole was your idea in the first place.”

She shrugged.  “Likely they don’t wish to trouble me any further on the subject.  Harold has instructed me not to think about the war at all--as if I might simply halt my concerns.  You know how men’s minds work.”

“I wish I knew better,” Leah murmured, not convinced.  More likely, the subject they thought would worry her was her houseguest’s impending commitment.  She eyed the doorway again, wondering if they’d be waiting in her room, ready to haul her away to some filthy cell.  Or would they hold off until morning?

The marchioness laughed at her comment.  “Don’t we all?  And after spending the day with David, you must be more confused about men than ever.  Pray do not judge them all by his quirks.  He is hardly typical of his gender.”

“No,” she answered absently.  “He’s a hard nut to crack.”

“An apt character summation.  But consider this: Perhaps the ‘nuts’ with the most difficult shells are the ones who yield the most tantalizing fruit.  I have known David for years, and I can tell you he is a remarkable man.  Beneath the hard exterior, he is quite sensitive to the needs of others.  His own needs are the ones he tends to neglect.”

“I know.”  Leah had seen enough evidence of his concern for her to agree.  Even now, if he did mean to put her away, she knew he only wanted to protect his family from a crazy woman--or even to protect her from her supposed suicide attempts.  Was there any chance he’d come up with a solution other than Bedlam?  Not much. 
She
couldn’t even think of one to suggest to him.

Watching her face, Lady Solebury frowned.  “You seem troubled, dear.  Are you certain you don’t want to talk about your difficulties?  Often, matters don’t look as bleak once you have expressed them openly.”

“I appreciate your concern.  Unfortunately, I haven’t had much luck when I’ve tried discussing this particular matter.”  Unable to hide her growing anxiety, Leah decided she might as well face whatever awaited her in her room.  She took a deep breath and stood.  “I think I’ll go to bed now.  Thank you, my lady, for everything you’ve done for me.”

Lady Solebury extended her hand.  “And thank you for all your efforts on my part.  I wonder, Miss Cantrell, if I might call you by your given name?  I should like very much for you to call me Phoebe.”

“I’d like it very much, too, Phoebe.”  Leah gave her hand a squeeze.  She wondered how the men would explain her disappearance to the marchioness once they took her away.  She supposed they would say she’d run away.  Phoebe would have no reason to doubt them.  She probably already thought Leah had run away from home.  “We haven’t known each other long, but you’ve been a good friend to me.”

“And you to me, Leah.  Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She stepped out of the room with her heart pounding.  No one was waiting for her in the hallway.  Determined not to lose her nerve, she walked to her room quickly and found that empty as well.  She entered and locked the door but still felt insecure.  The marquess would have a key.  If she had any hope of saving herself, she’d have to act before he came after her.

Moonlight peeked through the open drapes of her window, and she went to lean on the wide sill, checking the distance to the ground.  The drop looked too steep for jumping, but a large oak tree grew close enough that she might be able to step out onto one of the thicker branches and climb down.  Then where would she go?  She’d have no choice but to try the spring.  The thought of drowning terrified her but, at this point, trying to live in the nineteenth century seemed equally dangerous.

She fetched the sundress she’d worn on the day of her time transport, stripped off her borrowed costume, and threw on her modern clothes.  She’d lost her own shoes in the water, so she put on the halfboots Phoebe had given her for walking.  Snatching the only coin she owned from a cloth purse also supplied by the marchioness, she opened the window.  A breeze fanned her face, cooling the mist of perspiration on her forehead.

Hesitating would only allow time for her fear to build.  She took a deep breath and climbed out onto a narrow ledge.  The wind gusted, pasting her dress to her legs much like she glued her back to the cold stone wall.  Ignoring the chill of the air, she held onto the window frame with one hand and stretched the other arm to grab an overhead branch.  She caught hold and swung onto a larger limb below, immediately inching toward the trunk.  The old tree had lots of thick branches, making the rest of her descent relatively easy.

She dropped onto the ground and scanned her surroundings.  There was no sign of anyone around.  Nevertheless, she darted her way to the drive, crouching behind one tree, then the next.  On reaching the gravel, she ran until she met with the path to the spring.  There, a canopy of leaves blocked the light of the moon, and she had to tread more carefully.  She fought the urge to fly through the unseen brambles.  She could feel terror chasing her-- gaining fast--its cold breath whipping up her spine.