Dark Mirror (28 page)

She’d always thought that he seemed older than his years, and now she realized that came from living with the certainty of his death. His calm belief and acceptance chilled her to the bone. “This is why you keep yourself from getting close to people? Why you always go by your title and never by your Christian name?”

“A title puts more distance between me and others.” His voice was sad. “A Christian name is for the closest of family and friends, so I don’t use mine. Why create more pain for people I care about?”

“That’s very noble of you,” she said tartly. “But also wrongheaded.”

His brows arched. “How so?”

“Caring is always a risk because anyone can die at any time,” she said intensely. “What a cold and lonely world this would be if everyone refused caring because they fear the pain of inevitable loss!”

“Though death is inevitable, most people don’t know when it will arrive so it is easy to deny the future pain.” He glanced down at her, his face a pale oval in the darkness. “Since I do know my end is near, I have some choice about how much to hurt those I care most about. I choose to minimize that pain.”

She pulled her shawl tighter against the chill. “That makes sense, but I don’t think I could be so honorable. I want to care and be cared for.”

“I’ve had years to think about this,” he replied. “I believe our spirits, the essence of who we are, survives. As for our bodies”—he shrugged—“at least I won’t have to worry about gout and the other ills of old age.”

He might have had time to become accustomed to the idea of dying, but she hadn’t. She wanted to scream and beat her fists against his chest and tell him that the future wasn’t fixed, he should fight to survive.

Yet what did she know about his life? Almost nothing. And she had no right to blame him for the bleak peace he’d achieved.

She drew a painful breath, wishing this walk would never end. She would call it a magical interlude except that she lived with magic every day. This was something quite different that she dared not name.

Horace dashed ahead of them. He was heading for the rambling farmhouse, which was a darker shape in the night. The white splotches of his fur showed his location when he flopped on the front steps to wait for them.

If Allarde chose to die well, she could choose to say good-bye well. “Thank you for explaining why you’re reserved. It’s better to understand.” She just wished the understanding didn’t hurt so much.

Allarde stopped and turned to place his hands on her shoulders. His touch affected her in every fiber. They’d never touched, except the time he’d carried her after she’d returned through the mirror. This affected her even more because she wasn’t dazed from traveling through time. It was all she could do not to lean into him.

“Though I’ve accepted my fate,” he said softly, “there is one thing I would like to do before I die.”

Remembering his words about their mission, she guessed, “You hope to see the evacuation finish successfully?”

“Nothing so exalted.” He gazed at her searchingly, as if trying to memorize every feature. “What I really want … is to kiss you.”

She caught her breath, pulse accelerating. “That’s easy then.”

When she raised her face, he stroked back her hair and cupped her nape with one strong palm. “You are exquisite,” he murmured. “So soft. So smooth. Like living silk.”

He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. In the cool night, his lips were warm on hers as he kissed her with gentleness, wonder, and regret.

Tory tensed with shock and delight. She’d never been kissed before, had never known how profoundly intimate a kiss could be. She slid her arms around his waist under the loose jacket, feeling the lean strength of his body, his warm aliveness. It was damnably unfair that they’d discovered each other when all they might have was a handful of days!

“Tory,” he breathed as he buried his face in her hair. “My Lady Victoria. You look as fragile as thistle silk, yet you’re strong, so strong. Like a tempered steel blade.”

She wanted to weep. Instead she kissed him again, and there was nothing gentle about it. Her kiss was flesh and fire, mourning all their lost tomorrows.

Allarde responded with equal yearning. His embrace crushed her hard against him as his hands kneaded her back, molding her ever closer.

She’d thought she knew a little of love, but this was so much more. This was passion, hot and fierce, a hunger for closeness that ached inside her. She could feel his heartbeat as clearly as her own, could not tell where her emotions ended and his began. How could this embrace end when it was the deepest reality she’d ever known?

Yet end it they must.

Far too soon Allarde broke the kiss, though he didn’t release her. “We’d better go in before I forget any claims I have to honor,” he said raggedly.

“I wish you
would,
” she said in frustration. This might be the last private time they would ever have together. She couldn’t bear it.

“Don’t tempt me!” he said ruefully. “I might not have much of a future, but you do, and I will not ruin you.”

She wanted to be ruined, but she retained enough sense to realize she might feel differently when her blood cooled. “I suppose you’re right.” She made no attempt to move out of his embrace, where they fit together so perfectly.

“I’ve been selfish,” he said softly as he stroked her hair. “I should not have spoken, but I found that I wasn’t strong enough to let this chance go by. I don’t want you to care too much, Tory. But … I’d like you to care a little.”

She wanted to weep into the shoulder of Tom Rainford’s tweed jacket, but she forced the tears to stay unshed. He thought she was strong, so she must live up to that.

Since he wanted so much to avoid causing pain, it would be selfish of her to show just how much she was hurting. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back, letting her hands skim slowly down his arms. “I do care, but I promise that you have not ruined my life. Quite the contrary. You have made it far richer. I will not forget you.”

“I’m glad.” He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of her fingers. “And now we really must go in.”

She nodded agreement, and hand in hand they walked back to the house, almost tripping over Horace, who had been a quiet canine witness to their embrace. She was glad that none of the Irregulars could talk to animals. At least, none that she knew of. She wouldn’t trust Horace not to gossip.

Quietly they went inside, still handfast. The kitchen was dark, but light and pianoforte music flowed from the living room. The sound was different from the pianofortes of Tory’s time, richer and more resonant.

The warmth and beauty of the cascading notes caused Tory’s throat to tighten. Just what she needed, she thought unevenly. More emotion.

“Elspeth must be playing,” Allarde said softly. “She’s a wonderful musician. That’s one of her favorite Mozart concertos.”

Tory felt a stab of envy for Elspeth because she’d known Allarde since they were in the nursery. When he was gone, Elspeth would have many memories of her cousin.

But Tory was the one he wanted to touch.

The concerto ended, the last notes fading gently away. “You’re terrific, Lady Elspeth!” Nick exclaimed. “You could make a living as a concert pianist.”

Elspeth laughed. “Not in my time, but it’s a pleasant thought.”

Tory was about to move into the sitting room when Mrs. Rainford spoke. “Here are copies of a song you might like. It’s called ‘Jerusalem’ and the words are from a poem by William Blake, who lived in your time. Has anyone ever read him?”

After negative murmurs, the teacher continued, “That’s not surprising. He was almost unknown until many years after his death. The poem was set to music during the Great War, and it’s something of an English anthem. The song has been running through my head for days now. It seems very appropriate.”

After a rustling of sheet music, Elspeth said, “The words are lovely. Do you want me to play it?”

“No, I will so you can concentrate on the words.” There were sounds of the two of them trading places. “I’ll play a verse of the music. Then we can sing it.”

The music was haunting, and the words almost caused Tory to come undone when her friends began singing the hymn. She and Allarde stood with fingers laced together as they listened. The last lines brought tears to her eyes.

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green and pleasant land.

As the poignant notes faded away, she wiped her eyes with her free hand. “I can see why Mrs. Rainford thought it appropriate.”

“We are the sword carried in England’s hand, Tory. One of the swords, anyhow.” Allarde raised their joined hands and kissed her wrist on the pulse point, sending lightning flickers of sensation dancing through her.

Releasing her hand with obvious reluctance, he asked, “Would you like to go right upstairs so you can rest before your watch?”

Rest, and hide her raw emotions. She nodded. “Say good night for me.” She slipped through the other door to the stairs in the hall.

As she started up, she glanced into the kitchen and saw Allarde’s calm, grave profile as he walked into the sitting room. She might not have him for long, but they’d shared that kiss. Her first, and one she would never forget.

That would have to be enough.

CHAPTER 29

Tory was still awake when Elspeth quietly entered their room. “I’m not asleep, so you can turn on the light if you like.”

Elspeth turned on the bedside lamp, which was less bright than the overhead. Tory still marveled over how easy it was to produce light. “How did the scrying go?”

“We were amusing ourselves more than scrying seriously, so I don’t know if the results are any good. It does seem as if the evacuation will continue a few days longer, which means a lot more men will be rescued.” Elspeth perched on the stool by the dressing table and began brushing out her long hair. “There’s still no clarity about Mr. Rainford. Or rather, Captain Rainford as he is now.”

Tory sighed. “Poor Mrs. Rainford. And Polly and Nick as well. I don’t know how they keep going.”

“I think they find busyness helps. In particular since what they’re doing aids all the stranded troops.” Elspeth stopped brushing her hair, frowning as she fiddled with the brush. “I think that maybe Captain Rainford is marching his unit from Belgium to Dunkirk and praying they’ll be in time to catch a ship home.”

“A lot of things could stop his men on the way,” Tory said quietly.

“I know. So I kept my foretelling to myself.” Elspeth resumed brushing. “I wonder what the headmasters will do to us when we return? It was possible to conceal your absence, but five students gone for days will be too many for them not to notice.”

Tory covered a yawn. “They can’t send us away to be cured since that’s why we’re at Lackland.”

Elspeth laughed. “They may lock us up every night so we can’t sneak down to the Labyrinth. That would be annoying.”

Tory contemplated five years of being locked up every night without enthusiasm. “Grim, but endurable, I suppose.”

“And worth every minute of being locked up. We were all able to scry the image of men pouring off ships at Dover. You’ve never seen such a sight!”

“I shall try scrying that tomorrow,” Tory said. “I’d love to see the results of so many people working together to save the army.”

“The numbers evacuated so far are only a drop in the bucket. Around eight thousand if Mrs. R. scryed the naval headquarters accurately. Hundreds of thousands are still marooned in France. But the evacuation is just getting started. With practice and a few more days, the numbers should be substantial.”

“If the weather cooperates.”

Elspeth frowned. “I’m worried about Jack. Cynthia and Polly are both talented weather workers, but Jack is by far the best and strongest, and he’s pushing himself constantly. He’s always monitoring and tweaking the weather, even when he’s not officially on watch. If he doesn’t get more rest, he could push himself to collapse.”

Tory didn’t like to think how much of a burden that would lay on Cynthia and Polly, who had nothing like Jack’s experience. “The rest of us will have to keep the weather mages well supplied with power so they won’t get overstrained.”

Elspeth grinned. “Cynthia came the grand lady tonight and told Jack that he most certainly would get some sleep tonight, or
else.
He agreed very meekly to go to bed after the early night watch, so I think he’s aware of the danger of pushing too hard.”

“Cynthia?” Tory chuckled. “I wish I’d seen that. Is it my imagination, or has she been behaving surprisingly well?”

“It’s not your imagination.” Elspeth began braiding her hair for the night. “We’ve all been changed by coming here, and for the better. I can feel my magic growing stronger and more versatile. What about you?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Tory considered. “My talent is helping others to connect. I’m not a great power in my own right.”

“No?” Elspeth tied a ribbon around the bottom of the braid and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You are connecting with people more and more easily, and I suspect that your range is increasing.”