Julian gazed down grimly at Kray’s corpse as if he regretted not being the one to mete out justice, but the roaring fire behind them left them no time to linger. They ran out and hammered on the doors of the other apartments to rouse the inhabitants. Soon a huddle of anxious people gathered out in the street while others ran to alert the fire brigade.
Julian and Nellie slipped away from the commotion and made their way to the back of the house where their horses were pawing restlessly, made uneasy by the fire. Working swiftly, Julian untied the horses, helped Nellie into her saddle, mounted his own horse, then led them down the alley and away from the house at a swift pace. Half a mile later, he reached for her reins and pulled them both to a halt.
“Wait, you’re bleeding,” he said as he manoeuvred his horse closer. Frowning, he held up her hands for inspection.
“’Tis my own clumsiness when cutting my bonds,” she said ruefully. “I haven’t fully mastered my claws yet.”
Still frowning, he tore off a strip of his shirt and bound her cuts. “My loathing for Thaddeus put you in terrible danger, Nellie. I could have easily overpowered both him and Kray if I’d only held my temper and not attacked so rashly. It is a deep flaw of mine, to charge in recklessly without due consideration.”
“Oh, but to me it is not a flaw at all. Quite the opposite.” She gazed at his dirty, smoke-streaked face. Bruises and swellings had begun to make their mark on him, but all she could see was valour and strength. “You are worth ten generations of Ormonds. Why you would want Sir Thaddeus’s acknowledgement is a mystery to me.”
He smiled a little. “I’m also a stubborn cove. It’s not recognition from Thaddeus I want, only the details surrounding my birth.”
“If he dies of his wounds, you may never get your wish.”
His smile faded. A biting breeze blew down the street, sifting the piles of refuse across the gutters. “And you, Nellie? Tonight did not exactly go according to plan. Did you still get your wish?”
Tonight something otherworldly had happened to her, something beyond the realms of rational explanation. The memory of her acting as though possessed by Pip’s dead mother brought a deathly shiver to her. She couldn’t explain her behaviour and did not even want to discuss it, so she merely replied, “I’m satisfied that Pip knew nothing about his father’s plot.”
She paused, and Julian added, “But?”
“But there are other questions unanswered.”
His expression grew withdrawn. “You wish to speak with him face to face,” he said flatly.
For the first time she became aware she was not wearing her veil. She’d not worn it while she and Julian were rousing the neighbours, nor when they’d gathered in the street. Darkness and urgency had distracted attention from her face, though she recalled a few askance looks directed her way. But she would not be deterred. She had worn that veil for the last time. She had nothing to be ashamed of, and she was tired of hiding in the shadows. It was time to step out into the daylight.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid I do.”
By the time they returned to Monksbane, the moon had set, and the night was old and sour. As soon as they dismounted, Julian told Nellie to go retire.
“But your injuries need tending. I must clean them,” she insisted, though her face was pinched with fatigue.
The thought of Nellie bathing his wounds sent a shiver through his bruised and battered muscles. If only he could be sure of her feelings. But he wasn’t, and she wasn’t, and after everything that had happened this night, he had no strength left to fortify himself against her touch. “No need. I can fend for myself.”
At his rebuff she pressed her lips. “Julian…” she began uncertainly.
Silence and doubt hung between them. Tonight he’d hoped to draw Nellie away from Pip, but perhaps he’d only succeeded in bringing them closer. Melancholy settled into his aching bones. He was about to wave her away when hurried footsteps crunched on the gravel as a young boy ran up to them. Between panting breaths, he delivered his urgent message. A woman in childbirth needed medical attention immediately.
“You’re in no state to go,” Nellie said. “Why not rouse your father?”
“My father is on duty at the hospital. I must go.” Besides, helping someone in need would distract him from his gloomy ruminations. He remounted his horse and hauled the messenger boy up behind his saddle. “Go to bed,” he repeated to Nellie and, not waiting for a reply, cantered off.
Dawn was bleaching the eastern sky when he finally clip-clopped home on his weary mare. Figgs was there to take his horse, which was fortunate as he had no energy left to spare. Entering the house, Julian stood for a while in the hallway, breathing in the stillness, the peace, the aches in his body subsiding. His night had been turbulent, violent even, but stepping into this house was a benison. Monksbane was his home, but more importantly its inhabitants were his family, its harmony his source of strength. How could he not have seen that before?
“Julian?”
He turned to see Elijah standing in the doorway to his examination room.
“Father.” His voice cracked.
Elijah’s eyes widened. “Good God, you’re injured again! What am I to do with you, boy?”
Julian opened his mouth to explain, but his father hustled him into his room and pushed him onto a wooden stool. As Elijah fussed over him, emotion, sorely tested throughout the night, swelled in Julian’s chest to bursting point whereupon several shudders racked his body.
Elijah paused, even more worried. “Why, what is it, son? Is there something else amiss? I heard you were called away earlier to a childbed. Did it go badly?”
“No, indeed,” he managed to choke out. “It was a difficult labour, but both mother and child are safe.” He paused to inhale deeply, perplexed at his lack of composure.
Elijah squeezed his arm. “Good, good. You are exhausted. As soon as I’m done, you must get yourself to bed.”
The loving concern in the old man’s face made Julian reach out and grasp Elijah’s hand. “May we talk? Now?”
Slowly Elijah set aside his cleaning swabs, his gaze never leaving Julian’s face. “But of course. Should we go into the library and make ourselves comfortable?”
Julian shook his head. “If I sit somewhere comfortable, I will fall asleep instantly.” He drew in another breath, striving for some self-control as Elijah drew up a chair opposite him. “It was a good thing the midwife sent for me. The labour was difficult, and the child was born with its cord wrapped around his neck. He was blue, no sign of breathing, but I blew several times into his mouth and massaged his chest, and suddenly he let out this thin wail.” He blinked at the memory.
“You did well.”
“He was such a tiny fellow, yet his cry filled the room. His father came rushing in at the sound, saw the babe, and burst into tears along with the mother. I’d never seen such prouder parents.”
Elijah smiled but said nothing, as if sensing that Julian needed the space to collect his thoughts.
“They’re not wealthy, but what they have to give their son is more precious than any gold.” Swallowing, he slid from the stool and bent down on one knee before Elijah. “I’ve been a colossal fool these past six months. I was seeking something when what I already had was infinitely priceless. I took your affection for granted. Can you ever forgive me?”
Elijah breathed in audibly. Seconds ticked by before he responded, an unfamiliar tremor in his voice. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were curious about where you came from. That’s only natural in a young man, and I should have been more understanding.”
“Confound it, Father. Why must you be so humble and benevolent?”
Elijah smiled faintly, an unfamiliar sheen in his eyes. “Would you prefer I harangue you?”
“You make me even more ashamed.” Reaching out, he touched his father’s hand. Elijah’s hands folded around his, rough, gnarled, gentle. Julian blinked fiercely at the treacherous moisture behind his eyes. Fumbling in the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out the delicate bee brooch. “Here, take it, Father. I have no more use for it.”
“No, ’tis yours, son.”
