A Grave Inheritance (12 page)

Henry, at least, had the good sense to stare down at his lap rather than at Justine. By the middle of the second act, his full attention was absorbed by a stubborn hangnail. He then occupied himself with tracing along the skin where his hand had been cut by the pocket watch the day I arrived.

The last song brought the audience to their feet, applauding wildly to show their appreciation. Henry also stood, though for an entirely different purpose. “We should leave,” he said. “Lucy may be waking soon.”

I wholeheartedly agreed and had turned to go when Nora came toward me, flanked by James and Lord Saxby. “My life is fulfilled,” she said. “Without doubt, Justine Rose is the most extraordinary woman I have ever laid eyes upon.”

“She would be flattered by your good opinion,” James said pleasantly. His somber mood had passed, returning his previous good humor. A bad omen by any estimation, and I hadn’t even managed another breath before his true intentions were revealed.

“We can go meet her if you would like,” he said, then turned his little trollish eyes on me. “If Miss Kilbrid doesn’t mind, of course.”

Nora turned to him, her cheeks a rosy pink with excitement. “Do you really mean it?”

“She is a special friend of Lord Fitzalan’s,” James said. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a visit from a devoted admirer.”

“Oh, Henry,” Nora said. “Will you please make the introduction? I shall be forever in your debt.”

Henry shot James a dark look. “We have pressed our luck long enough for one evening, James. The ladies should return home before their absence is discovered and we are permanently barred from Lady Dinley’s drawing room.”

“Ten more minutes will make no difference,” Nora persisted. “Please, Henry. I had to drug my mother to come tonight and may never have another chance.”

For Nora’s sake, I had already suffered the indignity of Justine’s success, not to mention the wanton looks she had been throwing Henry since partway through the first act. Best friend or not, I had no intention of adding insult to injury by participating in a private meeting with the strumpet.

Heavens above!
It was high time for my headache. “I fear all the noise has gotten the best of me.” I looked at Henry, trying to keep my face impassive. “Some fresh air should help. Would you mind if we walked to Lady Dinley’s and James can stay to make the introduction? Once Nora has had her fill of the glorious Miss Rose, they can return home in the carriage.”

“That is a splendid idea,” Lord Saxby said, interjecting himself into my plans as he offered Nora his arm. “Miss Rose is a dear friend and I would be honored to introduce you.”

Nora gladly took his arm. “You are very kind, Andrew Saxby.”

He gave her a warm smile. “And you, my dear lady, are forever in my debt.” He glanced at James, a devious glint in his eye. “Be a good fellow and accompany my sister. The hallways are narrow and only allow for two at a time.” With that he strode from the box, a gleeful Nora at his side.

James watched the interaction, his good mood turning to dismay. He hardly had time to glare at me before offering Lady Saxby his arm and hurrying after Nora.

Henry wasted no time in escorting me from the box. The adjoining common area was already filling with people happily chatting in small groups. Rather than traverse the crowd, he turned in the opposite direction, opting for an alternate route from earlier. I held onto his arm as he led the way down a rickety flight of steps and through a dismal hallway, sparsely lit by the occasional candle. We encountered a handful of stagehands along the way, but no other theatergoers. This I assumed was Henry’s ultimate goal, to leave the theater as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. It didn’t take a genius to surmise just how he had gained such an intimate knowledge of the back passageways.

The hallway came to what seemed a dead end when I heard the creak of an iron handle. A door swung open and brisk air hit my face. I looked around, seeing that we had arrived in an abandoned alley.

“It isn’t the most glamorous exit,” Henry said, “but preferable to the gauntlet of endless conversation we would have encountered by going the other way. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” I took in the clear night sky, relieved to be outside.

“Are you serious about walking?” he asked. “I can always call for the carriage and send it back for Nora and James.”

“Cate’s home isn’t far and I really do need some air.”

Henry sighed. “Me too.”

His arm remained firm around my waist as we navigated past the various crates and debris strewn throughout the alley. The path was precarious at best, lit to some degree by the moon and innumerable stars. At the sound of scurrying feet, I pressed closer to Henry and tried to avoid stepping on anything alive.

To my relief, the alley was shallow and soon ran into Drury Lane. Carriages clogged the road, their footmen yelling at each other to give way. We stayed to the shadows and slipped by unnoticed onto the next street. From there, we entered what appeared to be a park with a wide, graveled footpath. Dead leaves littered the ground, illuminated by lamps sitting atop tall, iron posts.

“The mayor keeps the lamps burning ’til eleven to deter criminals while good folks are still afoot,” Henry explained. “After that it is each man for himself.”

“Are you worried?” I asked him.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No one would dare attack us.”

We fell silent when another couple came into sight, their arms linked as they strolled by in the opposite direction. Once they passed, our silence continued to stretch on, becoming somewhat strained. I wanted to restart the conversation, but there was only one thing on my mind at present. Try as I might, I could not stop thinking about Miss Justine Rose.

“Did you enjoy the opera tonight?” I blurted out.

“No, I did not,” he said. “
The Beggar’s Opera
has been playing on and off for the past two years and has grown tiresome to me.”

His words offered a promising, yet somewhat ambiguous start. Determined to have the truth, I turned to shameless prodding for my next recourse. “It was cleverly written,” I pushed on. “And the audience had no lack of appreciation for Miss Rose. Were you pleased with her acting?”

Another long moment passed as he considered my question. Trees loomed just off the path, their remaining leaves rattling in the soft breeze. I stared at their dark outlines, forcing myself to be patient.

“Selah,” he said at last, “I’ve a confession to make about my previous association with Miss Rose.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“I mean that our relationship extended beyond the bounds of normal friendship.”

James had inadvertently prepared me for the worst while playing the bully on board the
Callisto.
“Was she your lover?” I asked, my voice surprisingly level.

“Very nearly, yes, but please listen to me, Selah, before you pass any judgments. Miss Rose came to my attention just over a year ago when she began performing on Drury Lane. I was smitten by her beauty and began to visit the theater whenever I came down from Oxford. After awhile, she allowed certain familiarities to secure my devotion, yet refused to consummate our intimacy until I was willing to show a greater commitment.” He fell silent, appearing to struggle with how best to continue.

Gravel and dead leaves crunched underfoot as we walked, our steps growing louder each time the conversation lagged.

“What happened?” I asked, prodding his story along.

“My father betrothed me to Amelia against my wishes,” he said. “I was very angry and decided then and there to make Miss Rose my mistress. At the time my reasoning seemed sound—if my father was going to force me into a loveless marriage, I would find love elsewhere.”

“Did you really love her?”

We were about at the end of the pathway. Townhomes came into view, illuminated by lamps that had been hung outside each door and I realized we were not far from Cate’s. Henry must have realized the same thing, for he stopped walking and turned to face me.

“Upon my soul, you are the only woman I have ever loved. What I felt for Justine was nothing more than lust. I just didn’t know it at the time. I desired her like I had never desired another woman before, and I confused that emotion for something deeper. James made all the arrangements, furnishing a townhome for her to live and where we could rendezvous whenever I visited London.”

I put up a hand to stop him. “Please, Henry, I don’t want to hear any more about how you bedded that woman. It happened in the past and I shall not hold it against you.” Though I was glad for his honesty, my heart felt heavy from the story.

Henry took my hand and pressed it to his chest. “That’s the thing,” he said. “It never happened. The first night we planned to meet, I was traveling alone from Oxford to London. It was then that I came under attack by my cousin’s henchmen and sold to Captain Harlow.”

“You...you didn’t lay with her?” I stammered, unable to hide my surprise.

“No, Selah, I did not. I wish I could claim a moral epiphany, but the outcome was the same in the end. Miss Rose and I were never lovers.”

“But James told me she was your mistress. He made it sound like the affair was long standing.”

“He told you about her?” he asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“At first because I hoped he was lying. But then I saw your reaction to the playbill the other day, and I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t know what has gotten into James of late,” Henry said. “The man is entitled to his own opinion, but I’ll not have him going behind my back trying to hurt you and drive us apart. His behavior is inexcusable and I’m sorry you had to go through that tonight, being forced to watch Miss Rose when you thought we had been lovers.”

“It wasn’t easy,” I admitted. “Especially with all those come hither looks she kept throwing you. In truth, it was hard not to imagine your previous life together.”

Henry pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. “You suffered needlessly. Can we agree to have no more secrets between us?”

“You already know everything about me,” I laughed. “Until you arrived in Philadelphia I hadn’t misbehaved a day in my life, unless you count William Goodwin kissing my cheek behind the barn. What about you, my lord? Anything else need confessing or should I just wait to hear what James has to say next?”

Henry took a deep breath. “I will not claim to be a saint, for you already know that is far from the truth. But on my honor, there are no other Justines lurking in my past, regardless what James or anyone else may say to the contrary.”

“What about the future?” I asked, the words spilling out unbidden. “I’ve heard it’s fashionable in London for men of rank to take mistresses once they are married.”

Henry drew me closer. “You would never ask such a silly question if you truly understood what was in my heart. I belong to you, Selah, body and soul, and that will never change.”

I was about to return his sentiments when my ears pricked up and a sudden chill ran through my blood.

Henry felt me shiver and pulled me farther into his arms. “I shouldn’t have kept you outside for so long.”

I turned and stared into the trees. “Did you hear something?”

Henry listened for a moment. “Only the leaves rustling. Let’s get you inside.”

With one last glance into the trees, I took his arm and we started walking again. The graveled path led back to a cobbled road, where I saw Cate’s townhome near the end of the long row. Lamps burned at every door along the road, creating small pockets of warm light in the surrounding darkness.

A carriage rattled by, briefly impeding our progress. Once on the other side, I watched a young boy emerge from the shadows, walking towards us, his head down and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his short, brown coat. He passed back into the darkness, his little body barely discernible amongst the other shadows. We were still several doors away when he re-appeared, this time in the patch of light directly in front of Cate’s door. He paused at the steps and stared at the enormous townhome. Shuffling his feet, he placed one on the bottom step without going any farther.

“I wonder what he’s up to,” Henry said.

“He looks far too young to be out causing mischief at this hour.”

Just then a girl appeared from the shadows dressed in beggar’s rags and a faded black shawl draped over her head. She looked more specter than human, and unease crept over me as she moved with soundless steps behind the boy. His body tensed, and he swung around, tilting his head up to face her. Fear flooded his eyes. He opened his mouth to scream when she touched his cheek, and he slumped silently to the ground.

“Merciful saints!” I cried

The girl looked around, and my blood turned to ice. She barely glanced at us before disappearing into the darkness.

Henry started running, pulling me alongside him. The boy lay curled on his side, his breath coming in strangled gasps. Henry dropped on his knees beside him. “Sounds like he’s having a fit. That girl must have scared him senseless, and no wonder, a small lad like him out alone at night.” He reached out to turn the boy over. “You’ll be all right...” he started, then suddenly jerked back. “Get away, Selah, he’s covered in pox!”

Henry should have known me better. I immediately knelt down, taking the boy’s hand. It burned with fever, the skin covered front and back with angry red bumps. Glancing at his face, I saw more red bumps running from his hairline to where the skin disappeared beneath a dirty linen shirt. His chest strained and wheezed for each breath. “That’s impossible,” I said. “He was just fine a minute ago.”

Henry took off his coat and placed it over the boy. “You shouldn’t be here,” he told me. “The pox is highly contagious.”

“What about you,” I snapped.

“You can heal me,” he snapped back, taking hold of my arm. “But you can’t heal yourself.”

Regardless of the risks, I was bound by law to help, even if it meant my own death or disfigurement. “You know I don’t have a choice.” Yanking my arm away, I placed my hands on the boy’s chest and focused on summoning the necessary power. Nothing stirred, not even the smallest hint of warmth. My core felt as cold and empty as an abandoned hearth.