No Greater Love (20 page)

“Cyril! You will not keep eavesdropping! If you must interrupt, the least you can do is announce your presence.”

Cyril scowled. “I was only g-going to add a useful c-comment,” he said. “But if you have no use for me, I’ll k-keep it to myself.”

“Oh, for the love of God, Cyril. I have no patience for your games. What is it?”

“Y-you d-don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Binkley and Georgia asked in tandem.

“About the shipwreck.”

“Make your point, Cyril. I cannot think you know anything more about the shipwreck than we do,” Georgia said impatiently.

“N-not that shipwreck. The f-first one.”

“The first one?” Georgia said, her brow drawing down. “What do you mean, the first one?”

“In F-France. A f-few years b-before I was b-born. Uncle D-David and Aunt Elizabeth d-drowned.’’

“What? Surely you don’t mean Nicholas’ parents?”

Cyril nodded, looking as if he could have cared less.

“Good heavens,” said Binkley. “How dreadful. It is no wonder Mr. Daventry does not like the water.”

“W-well, he only s-survived by the s-skin of his t-teeth.”

Georgia took Cyril by his arms, her fingers digging into his flesh. “You’re saying that Nicholas was there?” she said, biting out every word. “He was there with his parents when they drowned?”

Cyril nodded again, but he looked slightly frightened by the fury on Georgia’s face. “S-some fishermen r-rescued him or s-something. He was the only s-survivor.”

“You
knew
this,” she said, “and yet you said nothing. You knew what Nicholas had been through, and you stayed quiet. You watched him struggle in that water, knowing that? You loathsome child—you little maggot. I should strangle you—”

“Madam,” Binkley said, restraining her. “If anyone strangles the boy, it will be me. But he is needed just now to look after young Pascal. And it is true, he could not know that Mr. Daventry has never spoken of the accident.”

“I … I thought everyone knew,’’ he said in a high voice.

“Cyril, get out of my sight,” Georgia said, releasing him. “Now, before I do you damage.”

Cyril vanished at lightning speed, and Binkley actually smiled.

“I believe you made your point, madam. It was not a bad thing to see.”

“I haven’t even begun to make my point. How self-centered can the little beast be?”

“Extremely,” Binkley said succinctly.

“Poor Nicholas. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for him the other night! It must have been his worst nightmare come true!”

“Yes …” Binkley said slowly, hand on chin. “I do believe you might have hit on something, madam.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, perplexed.

“His recurring nightmares, madam. He is prone to them on a regular basis. He cries out over and over and cannot seem to catch his breath, and then he wakes up in a cold sweat, disoriented and shaking. But he has never said what the dream is about. He did, however, mention you had attended one, so perhaps you have seen his terror for yourself.”

“Oh, dear God, Binkley. Oh, the poor man. The poor, poor man. He must be dreaming he’s drowning.” Georgia slipped to the floor and pulled her knees up, lost in thought, and equally lost to the impropriety of sitting on the ground. But Binkley didn’t bother to correct her, lost in his own thoughts.

Georgia sat there for some ten minutes, trying to put all the pieces together. And then it suddenly came to her.

“That’s it, Binkley!” she said jumping to her feet. “That’s it! I think I have the connection!”

“Oh, yes, madam?”

“Yes—listen. I can understand why Nicholas was willing to overcome his fear of the water to help the sailors. No doubt he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone drowning when he could help. But his desperation over Pascal, that was different, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, madam, it is true. It was a state almost beyond desperation.”

“Exactly. He saw a child, a young boy. It would have been like seeing himself. So in his mind, the two events came together. And then he thought he’d been too late and the boy was dead.”

“I am sorry, but I do not follow your train of thought, madam. Why would that leave him as he is now?”

“I don’t know, Binkley; I am inventing as I go along. I have heard it said that a terrible shock to the emotions can do strange things to people. And Nicholas had had a series of emotional shocks that night, never mind the physical shock. And now he has put himself someplace where the horror can’t touch him.”

“It is an interesting theory, madam. You are most imaginative.”

“Yes, I know. And maybe that’s why I can understand a little. It’s the damned troll, Binkley.”

“Madam?” Binkley said, looking horrified.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. It’s what Nicholas would have said.”

“Yes, madam. More than likely. But what is a troll? I have not heard of such a thing before.”

“Oh. They’re nasty mythological creatures who live underground and do terrible things to people. Nicholas equates the troll to everyone’s worst fear, and that’s what Nicholas was faced with that night.”

“I see. Yes, I do believe I see.”

“So,” she said, thinking hard, “if I’m right, then it’s not Nicholas’ brain that has been injured, it’s his heart. We must do what we can to heal it and bring him home to us.”

“Yes, madam. But how does one go about healing a broken heart?”

“With love, Binkley. Simply with love.”

“L-look here, Pascal,” Cyril said with irritation. “You c-cannot play the game that way.”

“Pourquoi pas?”
the boy asked, throwing down another card. “This is how the sailors play.” He coughed. “Just because you are a lord, Cyril, it does not mean that you can make all the rules. And there. I have won. Again.”

“V-very well. I shall teach you another game, and this time we will p-play according to my rules.”

“No, I am tired of these cards, Cyril. We have played them all of the morning. Now I would like to rest.”

“You’re not feeling ill again?” Cyril said anxiously. It had been a week since Pascal had passed the crisis, but Cyril worried constantly about him. “I will make you a t-tisane if you like.”

“You are very kind, but I am only a little tired. I had the bad dreams last night.”

“You did? What did you dream?”

Pascal wrinkled his nose. “I would not like to talk about it. How is the monsieur this morning?”

“He’s exactly the s-same. Personally, I think Georgia should l-let the d-doctor bleed him. But instead she t-talks to him all the t-time as if he c-could understand her, and tells him s-stupid stories about knights and d-dragons and m-magic gardens. And he just s-sits there staring into space like a m-madman. He c-can’t even f-feed himself. I d-don’t know how long this c-can go on. He should b-be committed to B-Bedlam. That’s where they put people who have lost their wits.”

“You do not like the monsieur, I think, or you should not talk like this. Why do you not like him? He is a good man to have taken me from the sea, and the others too.”

“Y-you do not know him, Pascal. He may have taken you from the sea, but that d-doesn’t make him a h-hero.”

“No? And why not?”

“It just d-doesn’t. Underneath he is b-bad. He uses p-people to g-get what he w-wants, without regard for their f-feelings. He h-hurts people. He’s d-done some very w-wicked things in his time.”

“Yes?” Pascal said, fascinated. “This is true? What kind of wicked things?”

“N-never mind. He should n-never have come b-back to R-Ravenswalk.”

Pascal laughed. “But me, I am very pleased that he did. And the madame, she does not think he is wicked. She loves him very much, I think. It is very hard to love so much and have this great sadness inside. I know how this is. And the madame, she is worried all the time for him, that he will not come back to her.”

Cyril didn’t answer.

“Do you not care for her either, Cyril?”

He shrugged. “I d-don’t think about her one w-way or the other.”

“I care for her very much. She has been very good to me, very tender. I care for all of you, even you when you make such faces when we play cards. But you saved my life, so I cannot be annoyed. And I think that you must care for me, Cyril, for you have stayed by my side all these days, looking after me in my time of need. But I have been wondering…”

“Yes?”

“What will become of me when I am all well? I have no family to go to, no ship, no work.”

Cyril smiled and ruffled his hair. “Don’t you worry about that, little m-monkey. You’re not going back on the s-sea again, and as for work, we will find you something. We’re your family now. You d-don’t bring someone back from the dead, then toss him out on his ear when he is recovered. Now, s-slip under the covers and sleep.”

Pascal did as he was told, and Cyril collected the cards and then pulled the covers up around him.
“Merci,
Cyril. You are like a brother to me.”

“I am glad. Now s-sleep, Pascal. I have some work to do in the garden, but I’ll be b-back later to see you.” He went out and closed the door quietly behind him.

The days passed. Pascal’s health improved to the point that he was allowed out of bed, and he quickly regained his stamina, eager to help out around the house and in the garden. Georgia had grown extremely fond of him, for he was an affectionate, quixotic child, and his cheerful presence and obvious devotion to all of them helped to lighten her spirits. She could have done without Cyril’s constant companionship, but he and Pascal were inseparable, and they seemed to be good for each other. Pascal was thriving on having a hero to follow around, and she knew that Cyril was thriving under Pascal’s unconditional worship.

Georgia turned on her pallet, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. She could hear Nicholas’ even breathing through the dark. He never snored: there was only this quiet, steady breathing. He never tossed in his sleep: he woke in the same position he had gone to sleep in. He might just as well have been a statue. Despite the love and the constant companionship, he responded to nothing and no one.

She missed him. Despite the people she was surrounded with, she was lonely. She missed him in a way that made her ache inside. It was not hard to be strong during the days, but the nights were so empty, and she felt so alone.

Sometimes she would get up and watch him while he slept, for in his sleep he looked almost like his old self. One couldn’t really tell that he was in a place beyond dreams, beyond feeling, beyond reach. She could imagine for a time that he was back with her, and it gave her solace of a sort. But then would come the morning, and his eyes would open. And every single day her heart wanted to break when she saw that terrible blank look in them.

She wished she could find the key to open his mind. She wished she could somehow touch him and heal his wounded soul. If it had been possible, she would have given him her own heart.

Georgia turned her face into her pillow and wept.

It was late, and Georgia was trying to finish the draperies she was making from the blue velvet Nicholas had given her at Christmas. The front bedroom was almost ready. She intended to move Nicholas into it as soon as possible, for the views were fine, and nicer than from his present window, and it would be warmer as well. Now it just remained to finish the woodwork around the long windows, and Cyril was making great progress with that. It would be a wonderful room when it was done. She jumped as the door to the sitting room opened.

“Pascal, what are you doing up at this hour? What is it,
cherié
” she asked more slowly, taking in the look on his face. He had been unusually quiet that evening, and she had wondered why. “Come, sit here with me by the fire.” She put her needle and material off to one side and patted the sofa.

Pascal sat down, pulling his legs up under him. “I could not sleep, madame. I was afraid.”

“Afraid? And what were you afraid of, little one?”

“I cannot say. I am ashamed.”

“Oh, Pascal. Whatever it is, there is nothing to be ashamed of, I promise you. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but it might help if you shared it.”

“But if I tell you, then you might send me away. And then I would be very unhappy.”

Georgia laughed. “Listen to me, little one. We love you. This is your home now, for as long as you choose to stay, so you needn’t worry that we will send you away. So tell me what it is, and we’ll both feel better.”

“It is a promise, madame?”

“Yes, of course it’s a promise.”

He thought for a moment. “Then I believe you.”

“I’m very happy. Now, what is it? Did something happen to frighten you?”

“Today in the afternoon I went with Cyril to the village to fetch the things you needed. It was the first time I have been out to the village, and I was curious. We went in the carriage. Cyril drove very nicely.”

“Yes?” she said, gently prompting.

“When we arrived, the people, they stared. I did not mind at first, but when I was with the horses, waiting for Cyril to come from the store, I heard them talking. They did not know I could hear, or perhaps they thought I could not understand.”

“Oh, dear,” Georgia said. “More gossip? The villagers tend to indulge themselves overmuch in the habit. What are they saying now?”

He blushed. “It is very bad, very wicked, madame. It is about me and the monsieur.”

“About you and Nicholas?” She frowned. “What about you and Nicholas?”

“They say that I am the reason the monsieur lies upstairs in bed with no mind.”

“And how have they reached that absurd conclusion?” she asked, trying not to let her impatience show.

“This is the wickedness, madame. They say that I was dead when the monsieur brought me in from the sea. Is it true?”

“It is true that you were not breathing. You had a little water in your lungs, Pascal, that had to be taken out. But I’ve explained this to you.”

“Yes, I know, madame, but is it true that I was dead? It is important. Cyril said something like this before, also.”

“I am sure Cyril would like to think he brought you back from the dead, Pascal, but I think you must have had a spark or two of life in you. What has this to do with Nicholas?”

“They say that I came back from the dead because monsieur’s soul went into mine. And now he has no soul, madame. Is it true, do you think?” he finished anxiously. “Did I steal the monsieur’s soul?”

“Oh, Pascal—no, of course you didn’t. One has nothing to do with the other. And in any case, you can’t steal someone’s soul.”

“No?” he asked hopefully.

“No. No and no. Your soul is your own, for always. And you came back because you are strong and determined, and because you and God decided it wasn’t time for you to go to heaven. You were needed here for other things.”

“Like building the house and gardens with you?”

“Exactly. And because Binkley and Cyril and Lily and Martin and I all were waiting for a little boy named Pascal LaMartine to love and care for, and Nicholas too, although he hasn’t been properly introduced to you yet. But he knew enough to take you from the sea and bring you to us, didn’t he?”

“That is a very big relief, madame, to know I did not rob the monsieur of his soul.”

“Good. Because you are your very own unique person, and so is Nicholas, and believe me, I would know the difference between you in a flash. When Nicholas is better and you meet him, you will see for yourself.”

“But there was another woman who said that the monsieur was mad, madame, and will never be better. She said there is a curse on him, and that is why his mind was taken from his body. It was in payment of his wickedness. And Cyril told me before—”

“Listen to me carefully, Pascal,” Georgia said, cutting him off, unwilling to hear another word. “I know how much you adore Cyril. However, you must not listen to him on the subject of the monsieur, for Cyril does not know Nicholas at all. He believes foolish lies about him, lies made up by other people. It is like the villagers. They make up silly stories, and then they end up believing their own nonsense.”

“Then why does the monsieur stay upstairs with no mind and no soul? I do not understand.”

“Of course he has a mind and a soul, Pascal.”

“But if so, then where are they?” Pascal said logically. “Even Cyril says he has lost his wits.”

Georgia sighed. “All right. All right, Pascal. I will try to explain so that you do not think any more about these other ridiculous tales. When Nicholas was a boy, somewhere around your age, he was in an accident very like yours…”

She told him the entire story, down to the nightmares and Nicholas’ fear of the water, leaving out nothing. “And so you see, it was a very terrible thing for him that night. It takes time to heal from a shock of that sort. Do you understand better now?”

“Oh, madame … madame …” Pascal wiped away tears from his eyes. “That he would do such a thing for me. To have such courage. I am now even more ashamed. I didn’t know. But in a way, you see, I did steal his soul, did I not? If it had not been for me, then he would not have gone back into the water, and he would not have brought me out and thought me dead.”

“I honestly don’t know how it would have turned out if Nicholas hadn’t gone back for you. But these are the sorts of things that are impossible to answer. We only know what happened, not what might have happened.”

Pascal nodded. “Yes. And I owe the monsieur an even greater debt than I had realized. Madame, I would like to see him.”

“You would?”

“Yes. I would only-like to look upon his face, madame. Please.”

Georgia smiled, unable to resist his earnest expression. “All right, Pascal. Why not? Come, I’ll just put my things away, and we’ll go upstairs.”

He entered the room hesitantly, almost as if he were afraid of what he might find. Georgia put the candle down next to the bed. The light flickered on Nicholas’ face, lighting the strong bones, now pronounced from the weight he’d lost.

Pascal came over to the bed and looked down at him, and he released a long breath, as if in satisfaction. He stood perfectly still for some ten minutes, gazing at Nicholas as if memorizing every detail. And then he spoke, very softly. “Thank you, good monsieur. Thank you for my life. I would now lay down mine for yours if I could. But as I cannot, know you have my undying gratitude and my love.”

He looked over at Georgia, where she sat on the other side of the bed, watching. “I am finished, madame. Thank you.”

Georgia took him through to his bedroom. He was very quiet as she tucked him up. “Is everything all right, little one?” she asked. “You are not upset?”

“No. I am deeply moved. He is very beautiful, the monsieur. I had not realized—it is as if I have seen him in my dreams. He is like Cyril, but not. He is as an angel to my eyes, a strong, magnificent angel with great white wings. I cannot describe it to you. But I know that in my heart I love him.”

“I am glad,” Georgia answered softly, wondering at the gift that had been given them in Pascal. “I love him too.”

“I know this, madame. And together we will make him well. This I swear to you. I can see that his soul is firmly in his body, and he does not look the least mad. Sad, perhaps, as if he were lost and did not know how to find his way home, but he is also at peace, and perhaps this is what he needs. Madame?”

“What is it, Pascal?” she said, trying not to cry, for his words had touched her deeply.

“I would like to spend time with the monsieur. If you think it is correct, of course. Surely someone who loves him cannot be bad for him?”