The Solemn Bell (27 page)

“What do you mean? I
am
ready. For the very first time, I’m not thinking of myself,” Brody argued. “Six months ago, all I would have thought of was a way to get my hands on that money—for morphine. Now, I don’t care if I ever see a penny of it.”
 

He realized the truth of his words as soon as they poured from his mouth. His heart did always have a mind of its own, and today, it demanded to be heard.
 

After last night, he could never go back to the life he knew before, even if he’d wanted to. The love he felt for Angelica had changed him. The love she had shown him—both physically and emotionally—had made him a new man. A better man.
 

The thought of losing her over something so trivial as money made Brody realize that he could not wait a moment longer. He had to make Angelica his wife, because he would not find another woman as strong, as understanding, and as loving as Angelica Grey.
 

He stood up to face his brother, man to man. “I love her, Markie. I intend to marry her, with or without our father’s blessing.”

“You don’t want to do that.” Marcus grabbed for him. “Do not go against Father.”

He dodged his brother’s grasp. “You really expect me to tell Angelica that I can’t marry her unless she gets this money? Can you not guess how that would turn out? She’d tell me to go to the devil, and I’d deserve it.”

“But…Father…”

Brody shrugged and smiled. The old man’s wrath would be swift, and far-reaching. It would burn through his life like wildfire, destroying everything. Ah, well. So long as it didn’t touch Angelica, Brody could handle the heat. He’d certainly lived through worse. “Better dust off your morning dress, brother. I expect you to be my best man.”

Marcus smiled—albeit defeatedly. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

At first, he felt foolish for keeping the ring, but now he was glad he had. Brody rushed upstairs, taking the steps two and three at a time. He reached the landing, schooling himself to slow down as he crossed the long corridor to his bedroom. Dashing about the house like a wild man wouldn’t do. He had to remain calm and collected, lest he draw out every damned servant from their mouse hole. Angelica wouldn’t want an audience—not for this.

Brody flung open the door to his room. Once, he and Marcus had shared the space. As boys, they had planned adventures, masterminded pranks, and scared each other half to death with ghostly tales in the dark. As men, they had shared drinks, laughed about girls, and told war stories they’d never trust with anybody else.

He had fond memories of the room, which was cluttered with everything he owned in the world. Brody stepped between piles of clothes, books, and gramophone records until he reached the chest of drawers in the corner. He tugged open the top drawer. Rifling through his socks and underclothes, he searched for the ring box he’d carefully hidden. His hands met something hard in the bottom of the drawer.

He pulled out the object—but it was not a ring.

In his palm, he held a perfect glass vial.

Morphine.

Wide-eyed, Brody sat it atop the chest of drawers. The precious liquid practically glimmered in the light. He pushed it from his mind, and kept digging. A moment later, his hands found two more objects: one, a ring box, and the other, a syringe.
 

Someone—God, the Devil, or otherwise—was testing him.

He sat the syringe next to the morphine. He stared at them, unblinking. They were pristine. Beautiful. His veins itched beneath his skin. His mouth went dry, begging for just a taste. Just a taste, nothing more. Brody trembled at the thought of the needle.
 

Lady Morphine had always been his first love.

Sweat pooled beneath his collar. He was overheated, and shrugged out of his jacket. Before he knew what he was doing, Brody had his cufflinks off, and his shirt sleeve rolled to his elbow. Yes, quickly. Quickly! The ring box fell back into the drawer, landing atop a pair of underdrawers, forgotten in his haste. His lust for dope far outweighed his devotion to Angelica Grey. The girl meant nothing to him now.

No. The girl meant everything to him. Angelica Grey
was everything
to him. Brody staggered backward. He’d almost succumbed to his addiction. He had almost ruined his life, when happiness was just within reach. His veins screamed. His head pounded. The Devil was back to ride him with a vengeance.

He sank to the floor, head in hands. How odd that morphine could be both a blessing and a curse. For someone like Marcus, the drug had saved him from the pain of his destroyed leg, and the amputation that soon followed. For others, it turned a torturous battlefield death sweet and peaceful. Even for Brody, the morphine had saved him from himself—until it turned him into a man he no longer recognized.

He was shamefully familiar with that fellow now.

Lurching to his feet, Brody grabbed for the ring box. His shaking hands fumbled through his drawer until they found the tiny, velvet cube. He kissed it. He was stronger than his past. He was better for his future. Despite his struggles, he deserved happiness, and—by God!—he was going to seize it while he had the chance.

Angelica had told him he only needed to ask himself each day:

Would he have his morphine today?
 

No. Not this day.

He would worry about tomorrow when it came.

Brody stuffed the ring in his trouser pocket. He grabbed the vial of morphine, and then crossed the carpet. After taking one last look around his bedroom, he shut the door on his old life, and walked bravely toward the new.

***

He found Angelica and Bessie coming up the stairs. She’d just come from breakfast, and the two women chatted happily as they climbed the steps. He stopped them on the landing.

“Turn around.” His voice was firmer than he’d intended.

She hesitated at the sound. “Why?”

“Because I have something I need to give you. And I don’t want to do it up here.”

He took Angelica’s hand, leaving Bessie behind. If the little maid had any idea what was happening, she didn’t give him away. She simply smiled, and disappeared down the hallway.

Brody tried to sound calm. He was certain Angelica could feel his palm trembling against hers. He needed to pull himself together, or he would never get through this. “How was breakfast?”

“Awkward, as usual. Everyone ignored me—except Marcus, of course. He’s always in good spirits.”

Good old Markie. “No problems with Peter or Mary Rose?”

“They were all too miserable to worry about me. Everyone smelled like they’d drowned in drink.”

He laughed. “A typical morning in the Neill household. Glad I didn’t miss much.”

Angelica’s dark brow furrowed. “Yes…where were you?”

“Upstairs.” They reached the entrance hall. Brody had intended to do this in the library, or perhaps the drawing room, if it was empty, but he couldn’t wait a moment longer.
 

Dropping her hand, he reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out the vial of morphine. Unconventional, yes—but he knew this would mean so much more to them both.
 

“Angelica…”

Her arms fell to her side. Those breathtakingly blue eyes of hers stared straight ahead. “What is it, Brody?”

He squeezed the glass bottle in his hand. Not so long ago, it would have been the most important thing in the world to him. Now, he hated the drug, and the power it once held over him.

“The night I first met you, I was on my way here. I’d set out in the middle of a storm like a fool…for this.” Brody reached for her hand, opened her pale fingers, and placed the vial in the center of her palm.
 

Angelica seemed to instinctually know what it was. She gasped—in shock or horror, he wasn’t certain.

“Small, isn’t it? Nothing much to it, really. A bit of glass, a dash of liquid. For the last seven years, that tiny bottle has been life to me. I would have killed for it. I would have died for it,” he explained. “There were nights when I prayed that it would kill me, so I wouldn’t have to suffer for it any longer.” His voice broke, and it took him a moment to collect himself. “I…I want you to know that I don’t suffer now, Angelica. Today—just now—I made a choice upstairs in my bedroom.”

Brody took her other hand, and put it to his bare forearm. She could feel the half-healed needle marks, the scarred flesh, and the thrum of his pulse through his damaged veins. She felt his rolled up sleeve, and her unseeing eyes searched the darkness, questioning everything.

“I chose you, Angelica,” he said. “For today. For always.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Oh, Brody. I don’t know what to say…”

“Tell me you love me, and throw that cursed bottle to the ground.”

She let the vial slip from her hand and shatter on the marble tiles at their feet. “Someone is going to have to clean that up…”

He laughed. “Not you.”

Despite everything, she laughed, too. “Brody, I love you so much. And I know how difficult this was for you. Thank you for always trying to be a better man.”

He looked down at the morphine-slick tiles. Well, so much for going down on his knee. Like most things, he hadn’t really thought that through. “That’s not all, Angelica. I’ve got rather a lot more to say to you.”

Her smile faded. He was nervous, and she could tell. A proposal was the last thing she expected. More likely, she was bracing herself for something unpleasant.
 

Elegant words be damned—he didn’t want to make her wait. Brody pulled the ring box out of his pocket. Removing the diamond ring from its silk-lined nest, he dropped the small band of gold into her outstretched palm.
 

“Do not throw that on the ground,” he said, laughing.

Angelica did not laugh. She merely lifted her free hand to inspect the delicate object. Then, he watched her mouth fall open as her fingers explored it.

“Time to finally ask what I should have asked a week ago—months ago, really.” He cleared his throat. “I knew from the moment I met you, that I wanted to spend my life with you. That I could actually
have
a life with you. So…will you marry me, Angelica?”

“Broderick! No!” There was a crash as a china flower vase smashed to the floor.

Angelica jumped, and he grabbed her to keep her from slipping on the wet glass at their feet. Brody whipped his head around to see every member of his family—including Peter and Cynthia, who had no business there at all—standing in the archway. Marcus looked apologetic. Mother’s face was purple with rage.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Angelica thought she was going to be sick. The bitter scent of morphine, mixed with the sweet fragrance of crushed flowers, made her head spin, and her stomach lurch. She did not understand what was happening, but was grateful for Captain Neill’s strong arms holding her up.

He’d asked her to marry him. He loved her enough—despite everything—to make her his wife. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of. Why did it all feel so very wrong?

“We’ve got company, Angelica,” he whispered. His own voice trembled in her ear.

Mrs. Neill advanced on them. “Young woman, return that ring this instant.”

Angelica shook her head, clutching her palm to her breast. If his mother wanted the ring, she’d have to come and take it.

“Don’t be a little fool. Marrying my son will be the worst decision of your life.”

Captain Neill stiffened. “Mother!”

Mrs. Neill stood too close for comfort. The stench of her perfume, combined with everything else, made Angelica feel faint.

“Marcus confessed everything,” the woman told her son. “About the money, and your plans to marry Miss Grey without our blessing. You knew you’d never get it, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. Tell me, does your beloved know the secret you are keeping from her?”

He swallowed. “I was going to tell her.”

“Oh, yes, after she’d already agreed to be your wife. Clever boy.”

Angelica pushed away from him, nearly slipping in the broken glass. “What is she saying?”

Captain Neill cursed under his breath. “You have an inheritance, Angelica. It’s not much, but it’s enough. We could live off it comfortably—that’s the only reason I didn’t ask you sooner. I couldn’t afford to support a wife…”

“So he needed a wife to support him,” Mrs. Neill explained. “I’m sorry to say that my son has done quite well for himself, living off other people’s good fortune. When he realized you were something of an heiress, he jumped at the chance to better his situation at the expense of yours.”

She didn’t know what to make of all this. It was all happening so fast. Everything she’d dreamed of was coming unraveled in her hands. “How did you know?” she asked him.

Marcus spoke up, “I asked around. Brody has wanted to marry you for days now, Angelica. But he wanted to do the right thing—he needed to wait until he could support you properly. So, I took it upon myself to find out something of your history. He never asked me to.”

“But…why?”

“Because my father threatened to stop my allowance,” Captain Neill said, sadly, “which is no less than I deserve. I’m thirty years old, and have never lifted a finger to earn my living. I could have returned to university after the war, or went to work with Markie. I’ve had every opportunity to better myself, but I threw them all away. You know I love you, Angelica, but your inheritance is a blessing that we desperately need.”

While she stood speechless in front of them all, Marcus’ voice cut through the silence. “There is no guarantee that you will get the money, Angelica. I haven’t seen the will, and I don’t know what sort of debts there are. It’s merely an avenue worth pursuing.”

“I will pursue it, if that is what Brody wishes…”

“We can live in your house,” Captain Neill said, taking her hand. “We can make it like it used to be.”

Nothing would be like it used to be. Her family was dead. Her home was in disrepair. She wasn’t even sure she could sleep where she’d degraded herself with another man. There were bad memories lurking around every corner. She didn’t want to be chained to those four walls again.