The Solemn Bell (5 page)

She clung to that. “How far?”

“About another hour, by car.”

An hour away was not so very far. She thought back to the last time she’d been in a motorcar. They weren’t unpleasant to ride in, and probably good fun to drive. A man like Captain Neill, who clearly liked fast cars, probably would not mind driving an hour each way to visit a friend.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning cut the air—close enough for Angelica’s hair to stand on end. Immediately, a loud crack of thunder followed, only slightly masking the creaking, splintering crash of a nearby beech tree.
 

She jumped and screamed. Something instinctual kicked in, and she bolted for the panel in the wall—the nearest point of egress—like a hare who’d narrowly missed a bullet. She fled in a blind panic, certain that the house too had been struck, and any minute would burst into flames.

“Miss Grey!” Captain Neill shouted for her through the wall. “Miss Grey, come back!”

Angelica stopped herself halfway down the kitchen stairs. Where exactly had she intended to go? She could not very well flee into the night, out into the rain and the relentless storm. She would die out there—but, at least, she would not burn.

She waited for the sound of flames, for the smell of smoke. But nothing came. The lightning had only struck the tree—admittedly, too close for comfort, yet not a direct hit. She was safe for now.

“Miss Grey!” Captain Neill continued to call to her.

She reluctantly turned on her heel, and began the slow ascent back upstairs. What a fool she was! She’d acted like a coward in front of him, of all people. He would think her nothing more than a scared child, and probably never come back to see her again.

“Miss Grey! Miss Grey, come back. Please!”

Angelica pressed her hands to the panel, steadying her breathing before she presented herself. He could not know what a silly little coward she was. “I’m here.”

“Are you frightened of the storm?” His voice was softer than usual.

She took a deep breath. “Only the lightning. I was certain we’d taken a hit.”

“Come out from behind that wall, and you’ll see everything is all right.”

Angelica did as he asked, though she had no idea whether anything was damaged. “Yes. How silly of me.”

“Not silly at all, really. I still jump at the sound of thunder, convinced it’s the Germans shelling again.”

She sat down in her spot in the shadows, safely out of sight. “I’m afraid of my house catching fire.”

“Well, it certainly does happen—although rarely. But, losing your home is a legitimate concern. I, on the other hand, am afraid of something that hasn’t happened to me in many years, and likely won’t happen again in my lifetime. It’s irrational, I know. Doubt I’ll ever get over it, no matter how much time passes.”

“You must have been very brave to fight in the war.”

“Back then, yes. Now I run from the memories every chance I get.”

Angelica drew up her knees, and hugged her arms around her skirts. She wasn’t cold, but could not stop shaking. “No one could blame you for that. I’m sure it was wretched.”

“It was. But don’t you think I ought to ‘be a man about it’, as my father says?”

“Was he in the war, too?”

Captain Neill laughed. “No.”

“Then he has no right to tell you how to feel.”

“Well, yes. I suppose you’re right about that,” he said. “But my older brother was there—though not for long. He lost a leg at Loos.”

Angelica brought her trembling hands to her lips. “I am sorry.”

“He’s all right, if not much of a dancer these days. I think my father took it harder than he did, really. Problem is, the old man believes that I had it easy just because I came home without a scratch. But I saw things and did things that will haunt me until the day I die. One never truly comes back whole from a war.”

CHAPTER NINE

“Have you really never wanted to leave home?” he asked her. “Never wanted to set off and see the world?”

Angelica almost laughed. Of course, she did, but she’d learned long ago not to trouble herself with impossibilities. “No.”

“Never wanted to settle down and get married, then?”

His question caught her off guard, but she composed herself quickly enough to quip, “I’m not the sort of girl men marry.”

“You’re truly not ugly, are you? I thought you were joking.”

“I have been called pretty…”

“Ha! I knew it,” he said, laughing. “So why wouldn’t some chap marry you?”

She wanted to tell him. As they’d grown closer over the hours, she had begun to feel guilty for keeping a secret, like she’d been lying to him from the very start. Hiding her true self.
 

Any man who liked her, and wanted to be her friend, would still want those things after he knew the truth. Her weakness was a part of her—but not all of her. She certainly hoped it did not define who she was as a person, or make her less worthy of friendship.

Her mother, father, or Freddie had never hidden her weakness. They didn’t shy away from introducing her when they had visitors, or neighbors over for dinner. She had taken tea in the drawing room, and sat at the dinner table like any normal member of the family. They brought her to church services and village fetes. She even went to the train depot to wave Freddie off for the Front.

So, why did she feel she ought to keep her secret hidden from Captain Neill? Now that she knew him better, she did not believe he would expose her, or give her away. He might even protect her, if the men ever came for her.

Angelica took a deep breath. And then another. “Do you really want to know?”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

She stood on shaking legs. It was three steps forward to the sofa. Three steps forward to the truth. Angelica counted them out in her head, if only to keep herself from hearing the revulsion in his voice when he realized her secret:

One.

Two.

Three.

She knew she stood very close to him now—she felt the heat radiating off his body, the overpowering presence of such a man in her space. After a moment, Captain Neill did gasp. Yet, he didn’t sound disgusted.

“Why, Miss Grey. You are beautiful.”

Angelica caught the note of wonderment in his voice. She thought that, perhaps, he didn’t fully understand what she had shown him. Couldn’t he see that she wasn’t all there? “I am…blind.”

“Just because you cannot see it, doesn’t mean you aren’t lovely to look at.”

She frowned. “You’re not shocked? Horrified?”

“Should I be? Is that how chaps usually react?”

“I don’t meet many men. Actually, you are the first.”

He seemed oddly pleased with that news. “Will you forgive me if I ask how old you are?”

Angelica grew annoyed. She’d kept this secret all night, guarded it like a jealous lover, and he barely gave her blindness a passing mention. “Twenty-three or twenty-four. I can’t be sure, exactly.”

“Well, why don’t you have a seat? I don’t blame you for wanting to keep a safe distance from me and my bucket, but surely, there’s no need to hide in the shadows any longer.”

She moved to find a nearby chair. She disliked the clutter that had been so
en vogue
when her mother had last decorated these rooms—tables with frilly runners, armchairs and footstools scattered over layers of Turkey carpets, and lamps, picture frames, and bric-a-brac everywhere one laid one’s hand. Angelica knew the layout of the room as clearly as if she could see it, yet she couldn’t help but fumble her way to a chair.

His eyes followed her across the room. He studied her movements, gauged her abilities—like everyone did the first time they met her. She felt his gaze boring into her, even as she competently settled herself into the seat. Angelica smiled, if only to break up some of the tension.

Finally, Captain Neill cleared his throat. “Have you always been blind?”

Ah. There it was. The first of many questions. Everyone always asked them. Her response was practically scripted. “I had a fever as a child. I don’t remember the worst of it, but woke up one morning completely blind. Never recovered my sight, obviously.”

“But you remember seeing?”

“I think so. It was a long time ago.”

He leaned toward her—she felt his body warm the air. “You smile and frown, and have all the visual mannerisms of a sighted person. Blind people tend to be…vacant…but your face is quite animated.”

“Then I must remember something. I did have a special governess—she was more like a handler, though. She taught me to sit still and upright, not to rock back and forth, or pick at my eyes. I’m told most blind people have difficulty with such things.”

“Your parents wanted you to behave.”

“Oh, yes. If I could behave normally, then I had a better chance at being treated normally.”

“Well, you’re very good at that. I would never have known, if you hadn’t shown your face.”

She tilted her head. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

“Not a thing. I told you, you are beautiful. But I can tell by your unfocused gaze…”

“I understand.” Angelica knew her eyes looked normal—not clouded or turned inward. But her pupils didn’t dilate, didn’t react to movement, or light. She simply stared, dead ahead, at nothing.

After a long pause, he finally asked what he’d probably wanted to know all along. “Miss Grey, why did you feel the need to hide your condition from me?”

“I’m a woman living alone. You’re a strange man who forced his way into my home.”

He sat back, shocked. “You feared that I might hurt you.”

“I couldn’t be sure. As I said, I don’t meet many men,” she explained. “But, mostly, I was afraid that you might tell someone about me, and then have me taken to an asylum. You would mean well, and probably believe it was for my own good, but I would be dragged from my home and locked away like a prisoner.”

“That doesn’t happen anymore.”

“Really? What do you think people do with orphaned blind girls, Captain Neill?” When he didn’t reply, she answered for him, “Straight to the asylum, where I’d be starved, beaten, and raped repeatedly.”

“You’re a bit old to be an orphan.”

“But I’m still a woman, blinded and alone in the world. They lock ladies away for less every day.”

His voice trembled. He clearly found the topic unsettling. “Who taught you to be so afraid?”

“No one in particular, but I’m no fool. I know a little bit of how the world treats unfortunate, disadvantaged souls like myself.”

“So you live your days in hiding, always fearing the asylum.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I wish you wouldn’t. Now that the war is over, there are a great many more people who are unfortunate and disadvantaged. You might find the world far more accepting than you were led to believe.”

Angelica chewed this over. What if Captain Neill was right? He treated her normally, when she had fully expected him to be shocked at the sight of her. Perhaps other people now felt the same. Surely, they didn’t put gas-blinded war heroes, or soldiers who’ve had their eyes blown out into shameful asylums.

She wasn’t about to step out into the lane, and walk down to the village any time soon. But, perhaps, someday. “You’ve given me hope, Captain Neill. Thank you.”

He smiled as he said, “I’m glad. If I can do anything to repay your kindness, you’ve only to ask.”

CHAPTER TEN

Her eyes were translucent, like blue sea glass. Brody had never met a woman like her—sighted or otherwise. He had certainly not expected her to be so beautiful, with skin as pale and thin as paper, and hair so black it looked like ink pouring down her shoulders. But, damn, those eyes…

They haunted him.

Brody wanted to tell her these things, to somehow adequately describe to a sightless girl how breathtakingly beautiful she was. But it wouldn’t mean anything to her. He might as well have described a sunrise, or some other intangible miracle of God. Words were not enough. A mortal man could never make her see beauty, but he desperately longed to make her
feel
it.

He wanted, more than anything, to take her into his arms. To kiss her violently, until she clung to him. To give her anything—everything—she desired. She was like a vine, creeping through his veins, twisting around his heart, and squeezing. Squeezing until it hurt. His desire for her was sudden and fanatical. His love for her was painful.
 

Love. Surely, this was love. Or, perhaps, obsession. Brody did not know or care. His heart was enslaved to her, and he could do nothing but sit and stare at the unfixed, impossibly blue eyes of his shadow-angel.

“…Captain Neill…”

He snapped back to reality, suddenly aware that she’d given up talking. Damn. He hadn’t been listening. Instead, he’d sat there, panting at her like some cretin, fixated on her like the addict he was.

“Captain Neill, are you unwell?” Her dark brows furrowed in concern.

Brody licked his chapped lips. “I’m here—er—I’m fine.”

She laughed, understanding finally dawning on her. “You weren’t listening.”

“I’m sorry.” He laughed, too. What a nervous fool he was! “I was distracted watching you speak. You’re rather a lot to take in, you know.”

“No, I’m talking too much, and making you tired. You should be resting, not listening to me prattle on.”
 

Miss Grey started to rise from her chair, but he stopped her. “Please don’t go.”

“You don’t have to be polite…”

“I’m
not
.” His voice was sharp—sharper than he’d intended. She sat back, frightened by the force of it. Brody blew out a breath, and said, softly this time, “I need you here. You’re the only one who can keep the demons away.”

“Captain Neill, I’m not doing anything except distracting you.”

Brody reached forward to take her pale, cold hand in his. “I know. And you don’t know what a blessing that is. For years, I have done anything to keep my mind from going back to the trenches. Anything to forget the faces of the men who’d fallen around me. To dull any memories of those dreadful, endless days.” He shuddered from the weight of it all. “I’m a sick man, Miss Grey. If either of us is bound for the asylum, I’m the one who ought to be locked away.”