Face to Face (The Deverell Series Book 2) (38 page)

Indy took her hands, and very gently said, “Come, Merry, you can stay in my cabin tonight. It’s clear you can’t go back to him. What the devil did he do to you?”

It would take Indy years to forget the look in her eyes. “He told me about your mother.”

~~~

Varian found Indy sitting on a small rise above the beach, an isolated, lonely figure. In his scarred hands was a bottle of half-filled whiskey, but when Varian got near enough to see the boy he knew the hazy glitter of his eyes was the result of more than liquor.

Another of his failures stared at Varian in the residue effect of whatever the boy had smoked. There was a desperate part of Varian that did not want to know if the boy had remained an opium addict all along, cleverly lying and concealing the weakness from him, or had simply reverted to past demons this one night.

He pretended not to see the tell-tale signs of the opium. There was enough misery to deal with tonight. The scarred lines of Indy’s face were even grimmer than usual.

“If you want to say goodbye to Merry you will have to do so tonight,” Varian informed him, hoping to find a non-explosive opening to this confrontation that had been waiting and simmering between them for months.

The silence that stretched between them was long and unfriendly. As furious as Varian was, it was more important to him to understand the boy’s purpose in this. He had succumbed to this anger once tonight, in misdirection, with disastrous thoroughness.

When at last Varian spoke, there was nothing in his voice. “You knew who Merry was when you put her in my bed. You knew she was Rhea Merrick’s daughter, and you gave her to me anyway, knowing what I would do to her and what that would mean to her.”

The boy nodded. They were both beyond the need for pretense now. The second silence between them was less strained.

“You would not have kept her if I had told you the truth,” Indy said simply. “You would have returned her to the Merricks that first night. Your complicated sense of honor and loyalty would not have permitted otherwise. You would have saved her and destroyed us all. I could not permit that.”

Varian’s eyes grew bleak. “Yet you could permit me to destroy Merry. Her ruin and unhappiness has no meaning to you because it was the cost of saving our lives? Is that what I am supposed to make of all you’ve done? That you care nothing for her? Do you not comprehend what you’ve taken from her in giving her to me?”

Black eyes met black, the older pair searching the younger pair veiled.

“Do you think I could have changed any of this? Would it have been better if I had killed her? Do you think you could have lived with the truth of that? That you sent me to the beach to kill my own cousin?”

Surprise flashed in Varian’s eyes too quickly to be concealed.

Was it possible they had both wandered so far that Indy had believed he was to kill Merry?
Please, God, I don’t want the answer to that, not tonight.

Indy misread the flash. “I have always remembered more than I let you know. I have forgotten nothing of our life before the invention you created thinking to spare me. I know my mother was Rhea Merrick’s cousin and that the same blood in Merry’s veins runs in mine as well.”

Varian digested these words in silence. “Why have you kept this from me?”

“What would it have served if I had told you the truth? I remember but it changes nothing. Nothing of who I am, just as cutting away pieces of yourself to be with me has changed nothing of who you are. Can you not see your kindness has been no kindness at all, to either of us? When will you accept that I can’t be what you want me to be, release me from the misery of failing you, and let me go?”

Varian stared at the only living creation of his body, seeing the truth, and yet unwilling to accept it. “You are my son.”

Emotion flashed across Indy’s face in agonized waves. “Yes, I am your son. But I will never be your son as you need me to be. I can’t transform myself simply to end this suffering you’ve committed us to. Do you think I have not known that all these things you’ve become as Morgan you became because of me. Because I belong nowhere except where I am. Do you think I haven’t suffered knowing my failure has pulled you farther from yourself, farther into this miss-creation and grim existence you’ve exiled yourself to because of me? You no more belong with me on the
Corinthian
than I will ever belong with you in England. Can you not see it is past time for this to end? For us both to face truth. I am what I am and your will won’t change that.”

Varian’s eyes simmered with fury. “So, that was what Merry was to you? An instrument to end both our suffering? Am I supposed to step back and leave you to your future, then? Never mind she has suffered and may object to your careful planning of our futures.”

With cutting fury, Indy snapped, “Would it have been better for her if I had left her for Rensdale to marry so she would die at his hands like my mother did?”

“So you decided to provide her sanctuary by giving her to me,” Varian countered sarcastically. “What a naive, immature fancy, to imagine me and my legacy a sanctuary. To think you have protected her in all this. I would find it a refreshing sign of your youth if this whole damn situation wasn’t so appalling. Do you think this will end the way you wish it to? With me going with Merry, our life together happy in England with all the things she will suffer by being here with me, and me leaving you to your bitterness and hate and need for retribution. Do you think it will be so easy to repair what I have done to her? Do you think you can repair yourself by killing Rensdale? The heart and the soul are not so easily mended. I have stayed with you not out of obligation, but out of love, a need in myself to protect you, not from this world where you believe you don’t belong, but from the suffering of who you will be if you kill Rensdale. Rensdale is your flesh and blood, as abhorrent as he is to you. An inescapable bond. You have not learned that yet. I can’t let you go until you understand, because you will destroy yourself with your hate and need for vengeance.”

Livid with frustration, Indy snapped out, “Damn you for the stubborn, arrogant jackass you are and the suffering you’ve brought us both because of it. You still think you are more than other men, that you can shield us all, that you can navigate your way from this without having to choose. I have broken everything, the past, the present, the future, and I have left it in pieces at your feet. No one could pick up all the pieces and yet you will insist on trying. Damn you, gather what you can and let the rest go. Whatever I do to Rensdale is not your burden. It is mine. I will never know who I am, what I am, unless you let me discover it without your shadow leaving me in doubt for the rest of my life. Let me go—”

Indy broke off, not recognizing the odd gasp that interrupted his words.

He put a scarred hand over his eyes. He could no longer see through his tears and wished his father would leave him. Leave him to suffer this break on his own and the reality of where they would go from here.

In a moment he felt himself being drawn into the powerful circle of his father’s arms. He had never allowed such an exchange between them before.

When Varian’s voice came it was with a gentleness the boy had never heard before. “You are so much more than you think you are. I suspect in time you will understand on your own and I will have to trust it is enough to keep you from greater harm as you make your way without me guiding what you do.”

On my own?

Indy looked up then, searching those dark eyes and the face of the man he had never truly understood. “What will you do now?” he asked.

Varian’s shoulders shook like loose jelly. When he released the boy, Indy could see how weary his father was. The effort of his laughter so drained him his father sank with an uncharacteristic lack of composure onto the soft bed of grass beneath them. Varian lifted the forgotten bottle of whiskey and took a long drink and then laughed once again softly.

His great dark eyes stared out at the water and when he spoke his voice was a mixture of exhaustion and mockery. “What am I left to do? Tomorrow I will let you go alone as you’ve wished to finish what you will finish with Rensdale. And tomorrow I am going to marry your filly and pray neither she nor her father kill me because of it.” He looked at the boy and smiled darkly. “I think I am the one who has been left with the more dangerous battles to fight.”

Indy smiled, sensing in his father’s jest was buried some truth. It occurred to him this was the closest thing to a normal conversation they had ever had between them. He wondered if he had stopped their struggle long ago if they would have found this peace between them earlier. And that was what he was feeling so strangely now, warm within him. Peace. Peace with this man who was his father. Peace with himself. Peace with the future. He wondered if his father felt it as well.

“Do you want me to go with you to meet with the crew, lad?”

Indy shook his head. “If I am ever to have absolute authority I must get it on my own.”

His father did not argue, a subtle sign in the shifting of things between them. “Depend upon Tom, boy. Your Uncle is loyal in every way. He is more capable than you give him credit for. One of the others may challenge early on. Tom will give you wise counsel.”

“You’ve prepared me well for this day. Were you even aware what you have truly done all these years was always to prepare me for the future without you? A future we both knew would never be in England.”

Of course Indy had understood. Varian should not have expected otherwise, should not have expected Indy to misread his actions. In spite of how hard he had tried to bring the boy back to what he should have been, Varian had accepted the futility of it early on. It amazed him after all the years he had fought this moment, now that it was here, how un-troubling it settled upon him.

“I was on my way to a tavern when I found you. Come with me, lad. I fancy getting drunk tonight. I don’t think either of us will be able to dare such recklessness again in the near future. Tomorrow you will be the Captain of my ship. And I will be…” Varian was staring at the stars and this time his smile came fully. “...a married man with an angry, young wife. Precious and fading are both our carefree hours.”

~~~

Lady Meredith Ann Merrick wed the Duke of Windmere in the mansion of Earl of Camden in a fashionable section of London known as Portland Place. Their vows were spoken by a somewhat reluctant, stern faced, very proper Anglican Bishop.

The vows had been preceded by a harsh lecture, lengthy, from the Bishop about the Duke of Windmere’s constant impropriety. The Bishop was beyond politeness after being roused from his bed before dawn, to be presented with a special license hastily obtained by Camden, with a rather brisk demand from the earl to come.

Merry had been startled from sleep in Indy’s cabin by Varian, was without ceremony wrapped in a cloak, carried to a carriage, and taken under the cover of darkness into the city. For all the good it did, she would have preferred to sleep until morning or at least be given time to dress.

Camden’s aged and reserved butler had recognized her at once. Even his expert impassivity had not kept his eyes from widening at the ragged picture Lucien Merrick’s daughter made clad in a simple, dark hooded traveling cloak over bare feet— what would his reaction have been if had known only Varian’s shirt was beneath it? His expression seemed to scream
what the devil has the girl done this time.

It was apparent he knew of her disappearance, plain her past wild escapades were known even among the servant class, and equally obvious he laid blame for this night’s business on her. He collected himself,
with effort
, before turning in proper greeting to His Grace.

Varian was the image of sophisticated British elegance. He had made a smooth transition from villainous pirate to handsome nobleman with nary an effort. Fresh faced and impeccably groomed, he maintained just enough hint of straining tolerance in those black eyes to confirm the impression that he was the injured party in all this.

Humiliated and simmering with rage, Merry gave Varian a harsh damning glare which he answered with a dark smile. By noon, this tale would be regaled over tea in every drawing room in the city. It was unbearable, this beginning to their marriage she had never wanted. Even if he didn’t care for her, surely he could have spared her the indignity of this.

Staring down at her hands while she listened to the Bishop, Merry watched as the tears plopped one by one and rolled to fingertip then floor.

If she had an ounce of pride left, she would have run from the room screaming. Larger tears began to fall. But what good would running do her? Varian wanted to marry her and he would marry her. His reasons, as cruel as they were, had proven as unavoidable to him as her own reason were to her.

“Dearly beloved…” the words floated around her, as strange a presence in the room as she was. “…we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted of God...”

The words passed in a rapid blur, and all Merry could think of was that she was here in circumstances too horrible to have ever imagined, losing her freedom a second time at the hands of the man she had been foolish enough to fall in love with.

A tear slipped down her cheek.
What would become of her? What would Varian do with her now? Where was he taking her with this act of marriage?

She searched Varian’s eyes as he began his vows, his voice low and without affection. “I, Varian Charles Deverell, take thee, Meredith Ann Merrick, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Merry turned toward him, speaking her own vows in a soft, stricken tone. “I, Meredith Ann Merrick, take thee...”she faltered and his eyes fixed on her severely warning. Would she ever remember to call him Varian Deverell and not feel foolish doing it? “... Varian Charles Deverell, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and obey till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”