No Greater Love (12 page)

“Very well, sir,” he said in a nervous whisper, “come this way. But come quickly, if you please. The fewer people who see you, the better.”

“Nonsense,” Nicholas said. “I have nothing to hide. Nor have you, my good man. And I will find my own way, thank you.” He marched into the front hall, gave the footman his coat and hat, and went directly up the stairs to his uncle’s quarters. The old manservant came to the door, greatly surprised to see that Lord Raven had a visitor at all. But his face lit up to see Nicholas there. “Master Nicholas!” he said with pleasure. “It is a long, long time since I’ve laid my eyes on you. Welcome home, sir.”

“Thank you, Jerome,” Nicholas said, relieved by the man’s reaction. Nicholas had known him since childhood, and it would have hurt to have been shunned by him as well. “I am home, and to stay. I had not realized that you were still in my uncle’s employ, but I am delighted. Tell me, Jerome, how is his condition today?”

“Much the same, sir. But no one is allowed in here except her ladyship. I wish I could allow you to stay, Master Nicholas, but I am sorry. Her ladyship gave express orders, about you in particular.”

“And those are orders that you and I are going to ignore, my dear Jerome. Her ladyship is not here, is she? And I believe you know how much my uncle means to me. I will say nothing to her ladyship if you will not.”

Jerome thought this over, then shook his head. “I am sorry, sir, but I cannot.”

“But why not, Jerome?” he said, trying to keep his growing desperation out of his voice. “It would stay just between the two of us, I assure you.”

“But it would not, sir. The walls have ears, and eyes too, in this place. It is not like the old days.”

“That much I’ve understood,” Nicholas said tightly.

“I am truly sorry, Master Nicholas. But if I should lose my job, for I certainly would once her ladyship came to hear of it, there would be no one loyal to his lordship to look after him. And then there is the fact that his lordship cannot be upset by anything or anyone, in case it drives him to another stroke. It is why he is allowed no visitors.”

“Is this on the doctor’s orders?”

“Not exactly, sir. Lady Raven does not hold with the doctor and his ways, and that much I can understand, for he tends to do more harm than good, and that we will all swear by.”

“I see. So what is being done for my uncle?”

“His basic needs are seen to, sir, and I give him a healing tea twice a day, but quite honestly, I fear his brain has been damaged beyond repair by the apoplexy. He does not understand things. Even if I were to let you in to see him now, he would not know you. Please, do believe me, for I do not keep you from him for any reasons of my own.”

“I do not blame you, Jerome. I know you are a man of good judgment and principles.”

“Thank you, sir. I have always thought the same of you.”

“Oh?” Nicholas said dryly. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It is quite true, Master Nicholas,” Jerome said. “I never believed a word of what was said.” He lowered his voice even further. “It was I who discovered his lordship’s letter to you and saw it posted without her ladyship’s knowledge. He must have written it in the night before his illness struck him, for I found him the next morning, as he is now.”

“Thank you, Jerome. Thank you very much, for that at least. And for your good faith.”

“I wish I could do more, Master Nicholas. I truly do. But you must understand the situation.”

“I am afraid that is one thing I will never understand, nor accept,” Nicholas replied, trying to stifle his anger and the helpless frustration that coursed through him. “I am deeply sorry that I have put you in such a difficult position. I will not do so again. Good day, Jerome.”

He went quickly out, far more quickly than he usually moved, barely noticing the curious servants who were peeking out from around almost every corner. He managed to maintain some semblance of dignity until he reached the safety of the deep woods. And then he fell to his knees, slamming his fists into the earth.

“Why?” he shouted furiously, and his cry echoed hollowly around him. “Dear God, explain this to me! Please explain this to me,” he said again, his voice now faltering. “Where is your Almighty righteousness? First you take my parents, then my aunt, and then you unleash Jacqueline de Give? It was not enough to have her destroy my house and my honor—you had to rob me of my uncle in the process? Sometimes I wonder why you bothered snatching me back from the sea at all if this was what you had in mind.”

He slowly doubled over until his forehead met the earth. His body rocked not with tears, but with a dry, futile anger. And then he stood and started in the direction of the stables. The only thing to do was to ride, and ride so hard that there was nothing else. He felt in that moment as if he might lose his mind.

“Nicholas? Nicholas, what is it?” Georgia asked as he came in the door. His face was pale, and he just shook his head and went past her, straight up the stairs.

She squeezed her arms around herself. It couldn’t have been Cyril. He had left long before Nicholas had returned, having succeeded in making her afternoon a misery. It had to have something to do with his uncle—or perhaps it was just Ravenswalk, she reasoned. It had that effect on people. But she was frightened. She had never seen Nicholas look so, and it came on top of the merriment he had shown just that morning.

If Binkley had been there, he might have understood what was wrong, or known what to do. But he wasn’t, and she was, and Nicholas needed someone. She steeled her will and then she went upstairs after him.

He opened the door to her knock. His face and head were wet, and he was dressed only in his trousers and a half-open shirt. A towel was slung over his shoulder. “Yes?” he said curtly. “What is it?”

“Oh, Nicholas,” she said, “whatever has happened, I think you must tell me. If you must be alone, then I will understand, but I could not leave you by yourself in this condition without asking. Perhaps I can help.”

He put both hands on the door frame and bowed his head slightly. “Georgia.”

“Yes?” she said anxiously.

“Georgia.” He looked up, and she was amazed to see a slight smile. It was a weary smile, but still, it was something.

“Please, Nicholas. I already know my name well enough. You have not enlightened me in the least, and I wish you would.”

His smile widened. “Yes. I can see that. You do make it easier, I must say. I had momentarily forgotten. In truth, Georgia, you do make it easier.”

“I’m glad. So share your troubles. That is what I am here for.”

Nicholas bowed and waved his arm. “Please, enter my palatial quarters and sit down.”

She marched in and sat in the one armchair in front of the fire. “What happened?” she said again.

“What happened?” he said, drying his face and hair with the towel. ‘Today I met the troll. I met the troll head-on, and it nearly conquered me. You said yourself that trolls have a habit of returning.”

“Oh, no. Jacqueline wasn’t there, was she?”

“No. She wasn’t there, although she might just as well have been. You can smell her poison everywhere. But then, Jacqueline’s not really the troll. She’s just its handmaiden.”

“But something dreadful must have happened. You’re hurt, I can tell.”

“Hurt? I would say more maimed. It’s not important.”

“But it is important, Nicholas. It’s very important. You’re very upset, more so than I’ve ever seen you. Please, Nicholas, I think you must tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Nothing actually happened. I was refused admittance to my uncle’s bedchamber.”

He sat down and began to tug off his boots, and Georgia automatically leaned forward to help, which caused Nicholas to look at her with surprise, but he obligingly stretched his leg out and let her pull. “Thank you,” he said with an amused smile. “You’re very adept.”

“Baggie could never get his boots off on his own,” she said absently, her eyes lingering on the small scar on his chest, a result of Ins accident with the floorboards. “Why?”

“How am I supposed to know? Maybe they were too tight.”

“What?” she said, looking up at him. “Oh. No, I meant why weren’t you allowed to see him?”

“Oh, I see. Jacqueline left orders. It’s all the same old nonsense.”

“Nicholas, I don’t mean to pry, but perhaps I can understand better if I know what happened originally, why you and your uncle quarreled.”

He shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

Nicholas hesitated, then let out a deep breath. “Very well, Georgia. I suppose you have a right. But first I have to explain the background. My uncle and I had always been very close. We’d had our share of disagreements, naturally, the sort that happen between two strong-willed, stubborn people cut from the same cloth, but they never amounted to anything. Anyway, I was away when my uncle married Jacqueline. I’d never met her and when I returned home six months after the wedding, I knew instantly that my uncle had made a bad mistake. I could see that he was besotted by her, and I could also see that she knew it and would use the fact to get whatever she wanted. She knew immediately that I couldn’t bear her.”

“Not surprising,” Georgia said with a laugh.

“What, that I couldn’t, or that she knew it?”

“Both. So what did she do?”

“She felt threatened. I think she was afraid I would warn my uncle away from her and she would lose her power over him. So she manufactured an unsavory story about me, basically calling me a debauched, immoral rakehell, and she convinced my uncle that it was the truth. I found myself out in the cold. I think it must have half-killed him to believe I was capable of such behavior and to feel forced to send me away. I know what it did to me.”

“Oh, Nicholas, how awful!” Georgia said, appalled. “I am sorry, for I know that you’re not like that in the least! But what brought you home again after all these years? Was it your uncle’s illness?”

“No. I had no idea about that. He wrote me a brief letter, asking me back. I assumed he must have realized his mistake. But I’ll probably never know now—apparently he became ill the same night he wrote to me, and there has been no improvement in his condition since then. His manservant believes his brain has been damaged by apoplexy. He has no cognizance, no movement.”

“Really?” said Georgia with great interest. “Perhaps the right herbs—”

“Georgia, my sweet,” Nicholas said wearily, “believe me, there is nothing we can do. No one is allowed in, not even the doctor. You and I most especially would be refused. It is Jacqueline’s command, and there is no one who will disobey.”

She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth. “It is a pity.”

“Yes, it is. But enough about it. The past is the past, and it’s best if we keep it like that.”

“But you were so upset, Nicholas—you can’t bury your feelings, for they will only worry at you.”

“It was only my anger getting the better of me. We all have trolls, I suppose. It’s just that mine is more active than some. Tell me, how did the afternoon go with Cyril?”

“The same as the morning. He was sullen, resentful, angry, and silent all at the same time. But at least he took his mood out on the wood. We now have a fine pile for the fireplace.”

Nicholas nodded. “That’s good. I am sorry that he’s being so difficult, Georgia, I really am. But he’ll come around.”

“I hope so. I know I should feel sad for him, for he’s clearly unhappy, but he is the most infuriating child, selfish and malicious. And—oh, do you see? Just as I promise myself that I won’t become annoyed, all my good intentions go by the wayside.” She smiled. “And thank you for the apple.”

“You’re most welcome. And if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change for dinner. I’ll be down directly.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I need to get back to the kitchen and make sure Lily has everything going according to plan. She has wonderful intentions, but she does need guidance. Rabbit again for dinner, but I’ve used your apple to sweeten it. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? Not in the least,” Nicholas said. “Maybe Binkley will bring back a small side of beef from Horsham. Pray God he will, and knowing Binkley’s ingenuity, he will not need God’s help. We will have a celebration. Oh, lovely side of beef. I can taste it now. Not that I’m decrying your skills in the kitchen, which are superb, but rabbit five nights out of seven would challenge the most prodigious of appetites.”

“You should have been in the diplomatic service,” she replied tartly, and shut the door behind her, but privately she was celebrating the smile that was back on his face, and she hummed a little song as she went downstairs.

Cyril demanded his dinner early and sat down to yet another solitary meal. But he liked eating alone, and tonight it was a relief to eat alone, for he found it sickening to eat and at the same time watch the disgusting interplay between his cousin and Georgia as they cooed to each other over their food. He’d never seen anything like it, this lower-class display of blatant sexuality. Nicholas may always have been tainted, but to have lost all the standards of his upbringing, to stoop to marrying a woman no better than a scullery maid, to live with her in squalor and behave as if it suited him perfectly? That was a true disgrace.

He would never behave as Nicholas had, at least not in that manner, although there were other appetites it seemed he shared with his cousin. He shifted uncomfortably, then pushed the thought to the back of his mind, for there were some things that didn’t bear thinking about. Guilt ate at him whenever he didn’t take care to keep it at bay, and he still couldn’t help flushing whenever he passed his father’s door and thought of the broken man behind it. He had found himself taking a circuitous route downstairs in order to avoid the unpleasant reminder of his culpability. But still, the old man had been almost as useless before the stroke had felled him, so what difference did it make? Had he been any kind of a father, any kind of a man come to that, Cyril might have been able to respect him. But he hadn’t been. He hadn’t been at all. Cyril might just as well have been an orphan for all the attention his father had paid him. Life just wasn’t fair. In fact the only fair thing about it was that one day Ravenswalk would be his and sooner rather than later would suit him very well, not that he had any control over the matter. At least Ravenswalk was one thing Nicholas couldn’t stick his filthy hands into. And when Cyril was earl, Nicholas would regret ever coming back. Cyril would see to that. The thought gave him great satisfaction and served to distract him from the unpleasant stirring of his conscience, which lived like a small, sleeping animal on the inside of his brain. It was deceptive, innocent while dozing, but when it awoke it attacked viciously and without warning with sharp, rabid teeth. He wished he could kill it as easily as one could kill the real thing, for wasn’t blood meant to be cleansing? He had often thought that if he could bleed himself dry and start over, he might be cleansed. But that was foolishness, of course. He supposed that was why animal sacrifice had been so popular in pagan rites: animal blood was a replacement for human blood, and symbolically animals took on the sins of man. Didn’t they?