Forever Mine (49 page)

Victoria laughed at Anna’s words and as the other woman’s head emerged from the closet, she arched her eyebrows.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” Victoria said with a grin. “You were just like this…”

“In the past?”

“Yes,” Victoria said softly.

“Well since we were friends then that means we’ll be best buddies now. Which is a good thing because I’ve always wanted a…we’ll talk about that later. Can you get dressed without help?”

“I think so, I’m a little wobbly, but I can manage.”

“All right, I need to call my brother and let him know where I’m going.”

“Going?”

“Of course, you need transportation don’t you?”

“Yes,” Victoria said with a sense of relief. Anna grinned at her then left her alone to dress.

Despite the deep pain tightening her chest, she was grateful for Anna’s presence. The woman’s appearance here made her remember the friendship they’d had in the past. But everything made her feel like she was Dorothy having just awoken to discover it had all been nothing more than a dream.

It was why she needed to go to Brentwood Park. She had to know for sure that it hadn’t been a dream. She shrugged into her T-shirt and pulled her jeans on then slipped her feet into her sandals. Gathering her passport and wallet, she moved toward the door. Out in the corridor she heard Anna arguing with someone in hushed tones.

“No, because it’s a lousy idea. How would you feel—” She paused as she listened to the person on the other end of the conversation, before she released an exasperated breath of air. “Seriously, you’re going to pull the because-I’m-the-oldest card on me. Look, I told you where we’re going. You know what to do.”

Suspicion swept through Victoria as she pushed the curtain aside and met Anna’s startled gaze. The guilty look on the other woman’s face made Victoria flinch. Could Anna really be trusted?

“Your brother’s upset?” She studied Anna’s face as the guilty expression on her features became more evident.

“He wanted me to keep you here.” Anna bit her lip. “Do you remember the explosion or where you were before it happened? Who you were with?”

Victoria contemplated the question for a moment. Just like in the past, she couldn’t remember anything about the explosion or several days before the event. Frustrated she shook her head.

“No. I couldn’t in the past either. Every time I tried, I had these terrible headaches and I wound up—”

“In the white mist.” Anna made a small noise of understanding.

“But how do you—” Victoria stared at Anna in puzzlement as the other woman reached for her arm.

“I’ll explain later. In the meantime we need to move. I’m surprised Bertram hasn’t gotten here already. The man is nothing if not punctual.” Pulling Victoria behind her, Anna peeped out into the hall and looked both ways before she turned back to Victoria.

“It looks like there are only a couple nurses at the desk, and yours is the furthest room from the station. I want you to turn left out of the room, through the double doors and stay to the left side of the hall. There’s a structure beam just past the doors that will keep you hidden from the nurses station. Got it?”

“Yes, just stay on the left.”

“Good girl,” Anna said with an encouraging smile. “Okay go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Following the other woman’s directions, Victoria walked the short few feet to the doors then proceeded through them. By the time she reached the square column and was hidden from the nurses’ station she was feeling dizzy. She leaned against the wall, and Anna was at her side in an instant.

“Are you okay? Maybe we should stay here.”

“I’m just dizzy. I guess lying still for more than a week makes it difficult to maintain one’s equilibrium.”

“You haven’t eaten anything in all that time either, that might be part of it,” Anna said as she glanced over her shoulder. “They were actually supposed to give you a feeding tube today. So if you don’t feel well enough to go—”

“No,” Victoria snapped. “I need to go home…at least to see it and prove to myself it was real. That I didn’t imagine it.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you didn’t imagine it,” Anna said with a look of absolute confidence. “Come on, we can stop and get you a sandwich on the way out of the city.”

Victoria nodded, and with a smile Anna entwined her arm in Victoria’s then led her out of the hospital.

§  §  §

Victoria awoke with a jerk as Anna parked the car. After the sandwich and water she’d had, she’d fallen asleep fast. Groggy, she turned her head and drew in a sharp breath. She was home. Now wide awake, she quickly got out of the car. The fast movement made her dizzy and she was forced to brace herself against the car. Anna came around the vehicle and offered Victoria her arm, but Victoria waved her assistance aside and headed toward the house.

She swallowed tears as she reached the front steps, half expecting Jamieson to open the door for her, stern expression and all. Victoria turned the knob and pushed the door open. As she stepped into the hallway, she looked upward. Relief made her close her eyes for a brief moment as she saw the prized skylight Nicholas loved so much. She crossed the floor to stand at the entrance to the library. Most of the furniture had been changed, but the chess table still sat close to the French windows.

Grief made her muscles harden as she wrapped her arms around her waist and stood there for a long moment. The memories flooded over her, and a teardrop pushed past her closed eyelids. Victoria drank in a deep breath and saw Anna watching her with a worried look. She shook her head.

“I’m okay,” she rasped as she managed to hold her grief in check.

Victoria crossed the hall to look into the salon. The room looked almost as it had when she’d lived in the house. Even her portrait hung over the mantel. As she stood in the doorway, she felt tears prick against the back of her eyelids. God how she wanted to go home. Home to the Brentwood Park in eighteen ninety-eight. Her gaze fell on the portrait again, and she frowned slightly as she stared at it. There was something different about it. Victoria crossed the room to the fireplace and looked up at the painting.

It was more like a picture of the original painting that had been laid on canvas. A small placard to the right of the portrait.
Reproduction portrait of the Countess of Guildford courtesy of Nicholas Barrows
. Barrows. One of Charles’ descendants. Then who had the real painting? Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, and she swallowed the knot in her throat. She moved back out into the foyer and footsteps echoed in the hall leading into the back of the house. Victoria turned her head to meet the wide-eyed look of a teenage girl.

“
Bollocks
,” the girl exclaimed with a cry of fear. “The countess…” The girl didn’t finish her sentence as she sank to the floor in a dead faint. Anna raced forward to check on the girl then looked up at Victoria.

“Go, I’ll handle this.”

Uncertainty swept over Victoria as she met Anna’s worried gaze. Should she be here? It wasn’t her home any longer. With a resolute clenching of her fist, she headed up the stairs. She had to know for sure. She needed to know if Nicholas had left the journals about Andrew for her. At the top of the stairs she turned the corner and leaned against the wall to rest for a moment. Below, she heard frantic voices mixed with Anna’s soothing voice. Aware that she didn’t have much time, she walked as quickly as she could down the hall to her bedroom. Once inside, she locked the door behind her. The delightful yellow theme she had grown to love was gone. In its place, a color scheme of whites and blues filled the room. She frowned unhappily at the change.

Across the room, she saw the connecting door to Nicholas’ room. The brief surge of happiness that flooded her was quickly replaced by grief and she swallowed her tears. He wasn’t there. A sob parted her lips, and she turned away to walk to the fireplace. For several long moments, she stared at the mantle piece and the rose carvings that wound their way up the side panels and across the top. Fear threaded its way through her as she considered the possibility her memories were little more than vivid dreams.

Outside in the corridor she heard soft voices. Glancing at the door, she saw the latch turn as someone tested the lock. When there were no demands for her to open the door, she turned back to the fireplace. Slowly she reached out and counted the roses down the side of the mantle, just as she’d seen Edmund do. She heard a click and the door to the secret compartment popped open.

Victoria drew in a sharp breath and stared at the items resting on the narrow shelves. Stretching out her hand, she pulled out the first of several volumes stacked one on top of the other in the shelves. Slowly, she opened the book.

Dearest sweet witch,

A sob escaped Victoria’s lips as she recognized Nicholas’ strong handwriting and the special name he always addressed her by. It had been real. Nicholas had been real. Their short time together, loving one another, had not been a dream. A sob escaped her as she clutched the book close to her chest. Head bent in sorrow, she shuddered as she could almost feel her heart breaking. A soft sound made her jerk her head and turn toward the sound. Shock held her rigid. It wasn’t possible.

“Nicholas,” she breathed. She closed her eyes against the apparition and counted to ten then looked back at the connecting door to their rooms. He was still there, standing in the doorway studying her intently. God, if only it were true. If only Nicholas really were here. Certain she was insane, Victoria’s hand gripped the mantle tightly as her knees wobbled beneath her, while clinging tightly to the journal she held.

“Victoria.” It couldn’t be his voice. She shook her head to banish the thought.

“You’re not real. You’re a figment of my imagination. I want you to be real, but you’re not.”

“Please, sweet witch. Listen to me.” The gentle plea washed over her like a soothing balm. It was his voice, even down to the tender nickname. Tears blurred her vision, and her voice shook with pain.

“Oh, God. I’m going insane. You even sound like him.”

“Victoria, you need to listen to me.”

She shuddered as the warmth of his hands pressed into her shoulders. Sweet heaven, he even felt real. She should never have come here. Victoria shook her head and closed her eyes.

“This isn’t happening. You’re not real,” she mumbled, desperate to keep her sanity.

“It is real, my love. Here, feel my heartbeat.”

A strong hand placed hers against his chest so her fingers could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. With her hand pressed against him, Victoria’s legs buckled under her, and a terrible shudder ripped through her. Warmth engulfed her as he pulled her close and supported her against his tall, muscular frame. She looked up at him and trembled.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured.

“I’m not sure I do either.” A gentle smile on his face, he sighed. “In fact, the only person who seems to have a good grasp on this whole situation is Nora.”

“Nora?”

“Well, we knew her as Anna,” he said. Almost as if he had difficulty believing his words, he released a reluctant sigh of exasperation. “Nora….Anna, has convinced me that I’m…that I was… Nicholas Thornhill, Earl of Guildford.”

His words rang in her ears as she struggled to comprehend what was happening. He wasn’t Nicholas, and yet he was. How was that possible? A flash of memory surged through her head. The image of the Goodman Cottage painting Nicholas had given her for Christmas, she’d found it in an art gallery. She looked up at Nicholas.

“The art gallery. I was with
you
in the art gallery. There was an explosion,” she said softly, still feeling confused. He nodded and a slight smile tilted his mouth.

“I thought I was crazy for having this insatiable desire to kiss you.”

“You didn’t get to because of the explosion.”

A sense of wonder swept through her as she reached up to stroke his cheek. He captured her hand and pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist. The familiar caress sent her pulse fluttering violently beneath his lips. His green eyes met hers, and happiness sped through her as she saw the love in his eyes.

“You’re really here, aren’t you? This isn’t a dream.”

“No, sweet witch, it’s not a dream,” he said gently. “I think I know, but do you want to tell me why you came back to Brentwood?”

“These,” she said and retreated slightly from his embrace to show him the journal in her hand. “I came for these. You left them for me.”

“They’re about Andrew. Our son,” he rasped as if startled by the fact that he knew what the journals were.

Victoria nodded as her gaze locked with his before she slowly opened the journal and turned the page. A folded piece of paper lay beneath the opening page. Taking care with the old parchment, she unfolded it and stared at the drawing done in a child’s hand. At the bottom of the page in a childish scrawl were the words. For my, Mama. Love, Andrew. Victoria closed her eyes in an attempt to keep from crying and was forced to turn her face into Nicholas’ shoulder in an effort not to damage the drawing.

“It’s all right, sweet witch. It’s going to be all right.” At his reassuring words, she nodded and folded the paper to tuck it into the back of the journal with a loving gesture, before reading the first page of the journal out loud in a choked up voice.

My dearest love,

Please forgive me for not having the strength to begin this journal until after Andrew’s second birthday. I almost lost my will to live in the first years after your death. The fact that both Andrew and Edmund needed me was all that kept me alive. Reardon only wounded Edmund that night in the priory, and I have been fortunate to have him with me. He’s the consummate uncle, totally devoted to Andrew. Our son returns that adoration. You would be so proud of our son. He’s an incredibly bright lad. He has all of your charm as well as your temper. I talk to him about you often, and he enjoys looking at your portrait in the library.

Each new day in his company is a reminder of what you gave me through your love. For that I love you all the more. Although I cannot touch you, hear your laughter, or feel your heart beating against mine as we fall asleep at night, I know you will always be with me in my heart. I shall never stop loving you, my sweet witch. I can only pray that God gives us a second chance to be together again in your future.