The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel) (20 page)

Chapter 36

Clairece woke with a start. One glance at the ormolu clock on the mantle revealed it was after one in the morning. She uncurled her legs and stood, retrieving her slippers from under the edge of the armchair. After the evening’s events, Anthony should be exhausted. Lord knew she was.

She tightened the sash around her waist, thankful for the warmth of the velvet robe, and called to Caesar. The hound rose from his place near the fire, and plodded to her side.

A gas light in the hall offered enough illumination to push back the shadows. With Caesar trailing in her wake, Clairece made a quick inspection of Anthony’s chambers. Although the counterpane had been turned down, the bed remained empty.

Clairece padded quietly down the stairs to the first floor, then roamed from sitting room to parlor to drawing room, with still no sign of Anthony. She approached a door at the end of the passageway and found it latched. Knocking quietly, she waited. No sound came from within, nor did light show from beneath the door.

Since Caesar showed no interest in the room, Clairece changed course and headed for the servant’s stairs and the lower level. Although she doubted she would find him in either the kitchen or butler’s pantry, she decided to give them a perfunctory search.

Exiting the still warm area, she reached down to pat the canine’s head. The giant wolfhound snuffled at her hand. If Anthony was in the house, Caesar would locate him.

“Find Anthony, Caesar.” The hound obediently marched toward the staircase. Clairece lifted the hem of her dressing gown and followed him up the flight of steps. At the landing, Caesar swung to the left and away from the wing she and Anthony occupied.

Harding Hall was a veritable maze of corridors and stairways. Clairece followed the dog through the warren, hoping he didn’t leave her to find her own way back. If he did, there was no telling where she would end up.

Caesar swept around another corner and Clairece found herself facing a dark passageway. She waited for her vision to adjust while listening for the sound of Caesar’s soft tread, then moved forward.

Ahead, thin prisms of light filtered through a layer of dirt and dust covering a large, stained-glass window. The old, thick panes further distorted the rays, sending ethereal streams of color down the darkened hall. The rug underfoot, though not threadbare, was frayed and showed signs of neglect.

A single table sat under the transom, a heavy covering of dust blanketing the top. A lone candlestick, the copper now covered in a soft-green patina, held a partially burned candle. Cobwebs, like tendrils of delicate lace, clung to the thin holder.

About to turn and retrace her steps, Clairece caught the faint sound of a piano. The unfamiliar composition, played with such passion, held her captive. She eased closer to better hear the melody, coming to rest against a partially open doorjamb. She leaned her head back and let the aria swirl around her.

Music, played with such emotion, such pain, tore at her heart. The tempo rose and fell, pulsing through her as it did the piano. With each note, she found it more difficult to breathe until her chest throbbed with building sorrow. She wrapped her arms tightly across her middle and closed her eyes. Tears slipped unheeded down her face.

She should leave, give whoever performed with such grief their privacy. Instead, she sobbed quietly, the musician’s distress now a physical thing. She swiped her fingers across her cheeks and peeked around the door.

Anthony sat at the piano, his coat and waistcoat discarded. Fully immersed in the music, he remained unaware of her presence. As his fingers moved across the keys, he closed his eyes, bared his teeth, and cried out.

His upper body folded over the keyboard, his forehead coming to rest on his arms—and he began to sob.

Clairece rushed forward. “Oh, my sweet man.”

Surging to his feet, his hands scrubbed at his face. “Get out of here. I do not . . . you cannot . . . oh, God.”

In the next instant, she was jerked against him and held tightly. He buried his face in the side of her neck, and continued to weep. Clairece whispered words of comfort while she kissed his cheeks and eyes, easing the two of them to the edge of the bed where she sat. Anthony dropped to his knees and laid his head in her lap.

“It’s my fault Lucy’s dead. I might as well have handed her over to that whoreson. As sure as the sun rises, I led those blackguards here to the people I’ve sworn to protect.” He gazed up at her. “I knew they would follow, but I didn’t think it through far enough.”

“You couldn’t have foreseen they would do something so depraved.” Clairece brushed a lock of hair off his forehead.

“If anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it. I left my mother here with that spawn-of-the-devil she married, and returned to school. I couldn’t stand to be in this hell house any longer. My sessions at Eton were the only way to gain any peace.”

Clairece sat quietly and listened. During their chess games, Philippe had shared some of his observations regarding Anthony’s apparent rescue of so many.

“I put
my
wellbeing before my mother’s. I never dreamed . . .” He closed his eyes.

“Never dreamed what, dearest?”

“Don’t you see?” He hauled in a shuddering breath. “My mother died because of
me.
” His voice broke on a harsh cry and Clairece thought her heart would break as well. All this guilt would surely fell a lesser man.

She wrapped her arms around him, and rocked back and forth. “No, my love, no. You were just a lad and shouldn’t have had to deal with such a thing.”

Anthony raised a grief stricken face to her. “I loved her. We only had each other. Through those Godforsaken years, she was the only one who truly cared for me.”

Silence loomed heavily, before she softly prompted, “You play beautifully.”

Anthony glanced over his shoulder at the piano. “Mother taught me. She was magnificent. We had to practice when
he
wasn’t around. She feared if the old man found out, he would break my fingers for pursuing something he deemed unmanly.”

Clairece shivered at the cruelty they’d suffered. “Your father was evil.”

“He. Was. Not. My. Father. Don’t ever call him that,” Anthony snapped.

“No one knew about the music?” she continued calmly.

His shoulders heaved with an indrawn breath. “My apologies, Clairece. I shouldn’t have responded to you in such a way, but I detest hearing him referred to as my father.” He drew in another calming breath. “To answer your question, the servants, I suppose, but they never told him. On one occasion, the old earl instructed them to ignore me. I was devastated. No one would so much as acknowledge my presence. I walked around my home feeling as if I didn’t exist.” His brows drew together. “I understood they had no choice if they wanted to keep their positions.”

Although Clairece chose not to comment, her anger at such injustice mounted.

“After the first two days, a tray of food was left in my room.” Anthony came slowly to his feet and sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his. “I hated eating alone, I still do.”

After the first two days, my God.
Clairece squeezed his hand.

“You must think me a poor excuse for a man.”

“Because you cried?”

“Men do not cry,” Anthony stated as if in rote.

“More truths as seen through the eyes of that bastard? Men and women cry when the pain is more than they can bear. It’s normal, natural, and in no way takes away from a man’s masculinity.”

He gave her a tired smile.

Clairece glanced around. “This was your mother’s room?”

He nodded. “She and I lived in this wing, as far away from the old tyrant as we could get.” He glanced around. “I rushed home when the news of her death reached me, but he’d had her buried and most of her belongings burned before I arrived.” He reached behind them and brought forth a charred wooden chest. “This jewelry box is all I could salvage from the rubble.”

Clairece accepted the small coffer and laid it in her lap.

“I never set foot in this house again until I got word of his death. By then, the old degenerate had all but plunged the Earldom into bankruptcy.”

“He did the remodeling?”

“God, no. There was no way I could countenance living here with his ghost meeting me at every turn, so I gutted a great deal of the mansion, added on, and decided to update during the renovation.”

“May I?” Clairece indicated the wooden chest.

“Of course. If I recall, it held only bits and pieces of things.”

Clairece gently lifted the lid.

And gasped. “Anthony . . .”

Chapter 37

Clairece’s heart raced. “Do you remember my description of the relic?”

“Yes, but what does . . .” Anthony’s gaze fixed on the strip of woven leather she held in her hand. “The missing tie from the dog collar?” He leaned closer.

“I need to examine this to be certain, but yes.”

Anthony rose to his feet and helped Clairece to stand. “Come, the lighting is much better in your room.”

Neither said anything as they hurried through the hallways to her chambers. Once inside, Anthony shut the door and turned to Clairece. “Empty the contents onto the desk while I get a lamp.”

She moved the stationary and pens to the side of the escritoire and carefully emptied the items onto the wooden surface. There appeared to be just an odd assortment of bits and pieces; a single earring, a broken gold chain.

Anthony stared at the scattered articles and frowned. “I know my mother had more jewels than this. Not counting the Harding diamonds which are in the safe, she received some exquisite pieces as a wedding gift.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, drawing her attention to the fine lines of weariness etched on his face.

“My mother occasionally wore some of her jewels while we played the piano. I remember a set of pearls she wore often. Duncan gifted Mother with gems as well.”

Clairece picked up the empty case, turning it in her hands. “The latch has been broken. Do you think someone stole her jewelry? Perhaps the late earl took her valuables for safe keeping.”

“I went through every square inch of this mansion during the renovation, and saw nothing remotely resembling a strong box. If such were the case, why not place the entire container in the safe?”

“Good point.” She held the braided leather strip nearer the light to examine the piece. She turned the length to study the other side and met his curious gaze. “Without a doubt, this is the missing tie. At some point, the collar was in this box.” Mindful of the value and age of the simple braided strip, she placed it carefully on the desk.

Anthony shook his head. “How? How would my mother have come by it?”

“You said your natural father was a Scottish Laird?”

“Yes.” He dropped into a chair.

“Most historians believe the artifact was likely held by one family for all of these three hundred plus years. Do you know much about your late father?”

“Enough to know it could be possible. His lineage can be traced back much farther. I was too young to fathom all he tried to tell me.”

Clairece leaned across the escritoire to touch his cheek, catching the sleeve of her robe on the edge of the box. The case made a splintering sound as it hit the floor. She bent and collected the charred coffer. “The underside is loose. Shall I have it repaired and cleaned?”

He gave a slight nod but said nothing.

Clairece turned the box over to fit the flat wooden tray back into place. “This is a false bottom.” She dipped her fingers into the hidden compartment and retrieved a small folded cloth.

Anthony reached for the square of fabric. “This is my father’s tartan. Is there anything else?”

“I think so.” She withdrew a thin letter opener from the desk drawer, and slid the tip under the edge of a faded scrap of paper. Lifting carefully, she held the parchment toward Anthony.

He sat slumped in the chair, still fingering the piece of cloth. “What does it say?”

To Clairece, Anthony looked more exhausted as the night progressed. Usually so vigorous and full of energy, he lacked all signs of vitality.

She unfolded the aging bit of stationary. “This is a letter from your father to your mother. Do you still wish me to read it?” In response, he dipped his head.

Clairece opened the page and began.

My dearest love,

As I’ve said so many times, would we had met sooner in life. Knowing and loving you has been my greatest happiness. Your precious gift of my son, Anthony, has filled my life with joy. When I look upon him, I see the two of us as it should have been. Each time he calls me Father, it delights me beyond measure. There is nothing I would not do for either of you.

Although you are the partner of my heart, alas, you are not my legal wife. It has long been a concern of mine as to how to protect and provide for the two of you should matters become impossible for you there.

For this reason, I give you a treasure which has been in the care and safekeeping of my family for generations. It is priceless, as are you. Take it and use it as you see fit.

I remain forever, your loving Duncan.

She glanced at Anthony. Sometime during the recitation, he’d leaned forward in the chair, braced his elbows on his knees, and placed his head in his hands.

“It seems we have our answer,” he said in a voice now devoid of all emotion.

Clairece set the letter aside. “We can gain nothing more from this tonight. We’re both exhausted and need rest. I’m going to run a hot bath for you and tuck you into bed.”

The smile he sent her was barely a flick of his lip. He came slowly to his feet and trailed along behind her, shedding articles of clothing as he went.

She let the water flow while she gathered his robe and a few personal items Beetles had placed across the foot of his bed. She returned to find Anthony submerged up to his chest in the steaming water. Propped against the sloping back, eyes closed, he sighed wearily.

She laid a towel near the edge of the bath, took a seat on the raised bench, and picked up a washcloth. She dipped the heavy flannel into the water and ran the fabric across a bar of soap. The scent of sandalwood filled the room. “Lean forward.”

“I’ll do it,” Anthony held up his hand for the dripping cloth.

“I have had the pleasure of your ministrations, now let me return the favor.”

He leaned forward.

Clairece gasped as she viewed the patchwork of scars crisscrossing his back.

“Not a pretty sight, is it? I never show my back to anyone.”

“Did your stepfather do this?” She ran the sodden cloth over his neck and shoulders.

“Ahh, that feels so good.” His head fell forward. “And, yes, to your question. Just one of his many gifts to me. He would make me bend across his desk and take hold of the edge while he used a cane on me. At my refusal to cry, he beat me all the harder. I am still troubled by nightmares.”

She pressed forward and gently kissed first one, and then another, ridge on his back, and felt him quake under her lips.

“After he died, I was forced to return here. The first thing I did was take a hatchet to his desk and burn the pieces.” He rolled his head on his shoulders. “The responsibility for the title, lands, and people living here, fell to me. I knew nothing about the stewardship of an estate such as this. I had to learn by asking questions and reading anything I could find about land management.”

She settled more comfortably on the bench to listen, and continued to run the cloth over his body as he mused, “I moved into the gatehouse and went to work refurbishing the Hall. My mother left me a small inheritance and I lived on it for a while. It wasn’t long before I realized the money would not last and I needed to do something quickly if I was to restore the Earldom to solvency.”

Anthony splashed water on his face and quickly washed and rinsed his hair. “I rented a small flat in London, and invested the remaining currency in various enterprises. I bought my first factory with the profit from those ventures.”

“You should be proud of all you’ve accomplished, and in a relatively short time.”

“I suppose I am, but mainly I feel triumphant. The old man tried to destroy me, and I didn’t let him.”

Clairece stood and picked up the towel. “Let’s get you into bed. It will be light soon.”

After he dried off, she took him by the hand and led him to her room. Once he was settled in bed, she crawled in and wrapped her arms around him.

Within moments, he was asleep.