Shades of the Past (22 page)

Blair released her. “He
was
my friend,” he corrected. “Marianna, I can never countenance a match between you and Stephen, is that clear?” He’d come to see how she was, but the turn of the conversation had become an obstacle, and as the sound of an arriving carriage was heard outside, he seized the opportunity to leave again.

Marianna remained motionless, then whirled about to Laura. “Why can’t he understand how much Stephen and I love each other?” she cried.

“Marianna—

“I know I’m in the wrong, but why must he be so cruel?”

Laura didn’t know what to say. In years to come, Blair wouldn’t have the power to overrule his sister’s wishes, but here in the early nineteenth century, female rights and freedom were still a long way off.

Marianna blinked back fresh tears. “I…I think I’ll go for a walk. Alone,” she added as Laura made to offer to accompany her.

She hurried from the room, and after a moment Laura left as well, but as she reached the landing she saw Marianna looking cautiously over the balustrade into the hall below, where male voices could be heard. Laura joined her, and saw Blair talking to two men who’d just arrived. The Handworths had arrived earlier than expected.

Alex looked singularly unattractive in a brick-colored coat that emphasized his sallow complexion, and Lord Sivintree was stout and sour-faced in donkey brown. Harcourt lingered nearby with their hats and gloves, waiting to see if anything more was required of him, and the spaniels sat at Blair’s feet, growling now and then at newcomers they clearly didn’t like.

Marianna’s knuckles were white as she gripped the balustrade. Before Laura realized what was happening, she suddenly called down, her voice echoing with awful clarity, “I can’t marry you, Alex, nor do I wish to! I’m scandalous, you see, I’ve tried to elope with Stephen Woodville, so I’ll have to marry him if my reputation is to be saved!”

Lord Sivintree and his son gaped, and Blair looked up furiously. “Go to your rooms, Marianna!”

With a toss of her head she obeyed.

Lord Sivintree’s face was thunderous. “What’s the meaning of this, Deveril?”

“I apologize for my sister’s outburst, sir.”

“Is there any truth in her claims?”

“I fear so,” Blair had to admit.

Lord Sivintree suddenly noticed Laura, and his jaw dropped. “Well, I’ll be damned...” he breathed, then turned to Blair. “So you’re still clinging to the past, eh, Deveril? Still falling for beautiful redheads!”

Blair flushed. “Have a care what you say, sir,” he warned.

“Why should I? I know your wife is dead, but lo and behold, here she is again. Except we both know this strumpet isn’t sweet Celina!”

Blair’s eyes darkened. “I’d advise you not to speak of Mrs. Reynolds in such a derogatory fashion, sir, for she is a lady and must be treated as such.”

“A
lady
?” Lord Sivintree gave an unpleasant throaty laugh. “My dear fellow, you surely don’t expect me to treat a tawdry member of the chorus as anything
other
than a tawdry member of the chorus!”

Laura’s heart sank like a stone as she realized he must have seen her at the Hannover.

Lord Sivintree gave Blair a cold smile. “Well, I suppose I can understand your interest, for the creature’s a very tasty morsel, as I’m sure Lowestoft will confirm.”

Laura went unutterably cold inside.

Blair became still. “Lowestoft? I trust you mean to explain, my lord?” he said with visible control.

“Explain? By all means. I saw your redheaded actress on the stage at the opening night of the Hannover theater. I noticed her because of her remarkable resemblance to Celina, and it seems I wasn’t the only one who took note, for as I left, I saw her with Miles Lowestoft. It was a very tender scene, I promise. Now I find her here with you. My, my, how you and Lowestoft must both miss your dear departed wife if you’re prepared to share a cheap actress who resembles her!”

A nerve flickered at Blair’s temple. “Get out, before I throw you out, Sivintree,” he breathed.

“By all means. But before I do, let me warn you I intend to spread your sister’s name further than Gloucestershire!” Lord Sivintree snapped his fingers for Harcourt to bring their things, then looked at Blair again. “I believe you intended to foist a soiled bride upon my son, and that warrants revenge.”

Blair’s jaw set, as he didn’t trust himself to respond.

Followed by Alex, who looked too bemused to say or do anything, Lord Sivintree turned to leave, but then paused again. “Oh, and Deveril, you’d better know I also intend to let the
monde
know you’re laying ghosts here! Laying ghosts! Ha!” With another unpleasant laugh, he strode away, his son at his heels like an obedient puppy.

Blair’s gaze immediately swung to Laura. “I trust Sivintree was lying, because if you’re connected in any way with Lowestoft, I’ll have nothing more to do with you.”

But his voice died away on a strange note that seemed to move all around her. She couldn’t see him anymore, for Deveril House had disappeared and she was once again surrounded by the impersonal modern furnishings of her hotel room.

A torrent of disbelief swung sickeningly through her. She
couldn’t
be here in the future again, not at such a crucial moment! She hid her face in her hands to try to shut out the clamoring emotions that beat at her from all sides. She could still hear Blair’s voice.
I trust Sivintree was lying, because if you’re connected in any way with Lowestoft, I’ll have nothing more to do with you.
Lord Sivintree wasn’t lying, he had indeed seen what he claimed, but it hadn’t been what it appeared to be. Why, of all moments, had he witnessed Miles’ cruel mock affection outside the theater? Sir Miles Lowestoft was her tormentor, not her lover, but how could she explain that to Blair when he was in 1818 and she was here?

Slowly she lowered her hands. Would Blair be shot tomorrow? Tears of anguish stung her eyes as she gazed toward the window. The May afternoon she’d left behind had been bright with sunshine, but here the January light had almost gone. The shadows were almost comforting, for they came between her and harsh reality.

The phone rang suddenly, and with a start she answered it. “Yes?”

It was Mrs. Fitzgerald. “Laura? It’s me. I’m sorry to call instead of popping up, but things are a bit busy down here. I just wanted to let you know Jenny’s Dad is back from Dijon, and we’d like you to have dinner with us tonight to tell you all about Jenny and Alun.”

Laura tried to sound as natural as possible. “Alun’s better?”

Mrs. Fitzgerald chuckled. “Oh, yes, and beginning to grumble, which is always a good sign.”

“That’s true.”

“Anyway, I’ll be relieved when Jenny’s here again, for I’ve had a conscience about you, my dear.”

“Me? There’s no need.”

“No matter what you say, you must have been bored witless on your own.”

Laura could have laughed out loud. Bored witless? Oh, how different was the truth!

Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke again. “You will dine with us, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s a pleasure.” There was a pause. “You didn’t change your mind about the audition, then?”

“No.”

“Are you quite sure you’re doing the right thing?”

“Quite sure, but thanks for your concern, I appreciate it.”

There was another chuckle at the other end of the line. “Busybodies like me can’t keep their noses out, I’m afraid. Oh, I’m needed, so I’ll go now. See you later, my dear. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Laura replaced the phone and then glanced around at the dim rooms. Defiance stirred through her suddenly. This was crazy. What good did moping in the dark do? She needed some light on the subject, and with a determined breath, she went to flick a few switches. Soon the rooms were brightly lit, the TV was on, and she’d made herself some coffee. She sat in a comfortable chair, dodging from channel to channel until she found something she liked the look of. Then she leaned her head back. She wouldn’t give in to despair, she
wouldn’t
! Instinct told her that sooner or later she’d return to 1818, however briefly, and when she did she’d be ready to plead her cause with Blair. She closed her eyes, feeling very tired. The coffee went cold, the TV droned on, and she fell asleep.

Several hours passed, and she was suddenly awakened by a noisy game show that was shrill with sound effects and canned laughter. Something made her turn to look at the watercolor above the mantelpiece. She got up, for the painted scene seemed oddly real. It must be a trick of the eyes, she decided, but then realized it was no illusion. The brushstrokes had taken on a new vitality. The trees actually stirred in a summer breeze, the carpet of bluebells nodded gently, and the leafy shadows of a May morning moved delicately over the track by the blasted oak tree in the center of the scene!

Shaken, she crossed the room, and the closer she got, the less like a painting the picture seemed. It was no longer an artist’s handiwork, but a window into the woods. She put a trembling hand to the frame, and then, very tentatively, to the glass. It was cold and firm to the touch, but beyond it, the woods were in motion, and now she could actually smell the flowers and hear the birds singing!

She swallowed. Something was about to happen, she could sense it as surely as if someone had whispered a warning. She scanned the trees and undergrowth for... for what? Suddenly she heard someone riding swiftly along the track! Instinctively, she drew back a little, for fear whoever it was might see her, even though she knew that was impossible. The rider came nearer. It was Miles. He wore a royal blue coat and white breeches, and as he reined in by the oak tree she knew he was waiting for Regency Laura. It was ten o’clock in the morning, and he hoped she’d be there with news of the necklace!

She gazed at him with unutterable loathing. This man was malevolence personified, yet managed to escape punishment for his many crimes. Jealous spite was his creed, and vengeance his sole reason for existence. Celina had surely only taken him as her lover because he was blackmailing her.

As Laura watched, he suddenly whirled about to look directly toward her. She was so certain he could see her that she expected him to speak, but then someone else stepped into view in front of her. It was Estelle, her skirt and veil fluttering as she seemed to glide toward him through the drifts of bluebells.

She halted by his horse, and gave a laugh that came from the edge of madness. “You thought me still in Scotland, Miles?”

“Scotland is where you should be, and where I’ll be returning you directly!” he snapped.

“Is she to meet you here, your redheaded whore?”

He became very still. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t deny her existence, for I’ve seen her. I saw you lying together here among the flowers.”

He began to understand, and his lips curled into a sneer. “You’re a fool, Estelle, and even if you had seen what you think, it has nothing to do with you. Who I see and what I do is my business.”

“I’m your wife!” she cried in a rising voice.

“A fact I bitterly regret,” he said coldly.

“We made vows before God, Miles.”

“And He’s been in bed with us ever since!”

“It’s a sin to blaspheme, but you know all about sin, don’t you, Miles? I married you because you swore she’d gone forever, but she’s here, and you’ve come to be with her again, haven’t you? Haven’t you!” She caught his reins, and his horse moved uneasily.

He remained calm. “Your mind’s playing more tricks on you, my dear. I’m on my own here.”

“Don’t lie, Miles! I’ve spoken to your precious Celina!” Her voice became shrill, and his horse tossed its head.

“What did you say to her?” Miles demanded, his hand clenching on his riding crop as if he’d like to strike her.

Estelle gave a gurgle of uneven laughter. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” she taunted. “If you think I’ll relinquish you without a battle, you’re sadly mistaken. You’re mine before God, and I intend to keep you!”

“Damn you!” Miles breathed, raising the riding crop and hitting her savagely across the face.

It was such a vicious blow that Laura flinched. Estelle fell to her knees on the track, and the frightened horse reared, its hooves cutting down within inches of her face. Miles looked down hatefully. “Stay away from everyone at Deveril House, is that clear? If I find out you’ve uttered so much as one more word, I’ll thrash you to within an inch of your pious life!”

“If it weren’t for her, you and I would have been happy!” Estelle cried.

“Don’t delude yourself, my dear, for you and I could never be happy. I despise the very sight of your sanctimonious face, and I abhor your martyr’s body! Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back to Scotland without delay.”

Estelle scrambled up to seize one of his stirrups. “I’m your wife, Miles! I’m faithful and true, and I adore you with all my heart!”

“Don’t touch me!” he cried, trying to kick her away.

She clung on. “Please, Miles! For pity’s sake be kind to me!”

Miles’ revulsion and rage boiled over, and he struck her again, this time so brutally that she fell like a bundle of black rags among the bluebells. He began to ride away, and she hauled herself up on her elbows to scream after him. “I won’t let her have you, Miles! You’re mine, and you’ll remain mine forever!”

He didn’t look around, and as he rode from view the scene became a painting again. Estelle’s black-swathed figure disappeared, and the trees became still.

Laura backed away. Her mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding like a tom-tom. Then she heard a sound in the bedroom behind her, and turned fearfully. “Who’s there?” There was no response, but she knew she’d definitely heard something, so she went warily toward the door.

As she stepped over the threshold she saw the ballroom doors swing open in the wall opposite! She was seized by a powerful blend of trepidation and joy, and her steps didn’t falter as she crossed through into the past.

Her hair had been pinned up hurriedly, and felt loose in its pins. She was flustered and uncertain, and for a moment hesitated, her nervous fingers creeping to the rich lace trimming at the low neckline of her white muslin gown. She clutched her reticule tightly in her other hand, for the fake diamonds were inside it, and as she went further into the ballroom, her skirts clung sensuously to her legs.