A Loving Spirit (26 page)

"Yet our downfall was that we were selfish people. We cared too much about ourselves and not enough about our marriage. After the king was restored to the throne, I should have come back to you. Instead, I stayed at Court, trying to gain favor. I left you alone here."

Well, not strictly alone, Louisa thought, tears prickling at her eyes. That had been the problem. The memory of those days still had the power to hurt her: the loneliness, the waiting. And the parties she had held here, trying to forget. "That was no excuse for my behavior."

"Perhaps not. But I am as much to blame for that as you were. Just as I was to blame for your death."

Louisa looked up at him, startled. "How so?"

He took her hand in his. "If I had been here, taking care of you as I should have, it would not have happened. We could have had children and a life together. That was the lesson I had to learn, and I learned it well when I heard that you had died. My lesson, and yours, was that only our love, our marriage, our time together, mattered. Not favor at Court, not wealth and land."

"But I always knew that!" Louisa cried, bewildered and touched, and very, very sad.

"No," William answered gently. "You knew that you were hurt, that I could not give you what you wanted. But you did not see that we as individuals were not so important—only the love we found was. And you realized that by helping Phillip and Cassandra to not make the same mistake."

Louisa thought back on so many things, on their own marriage, on the past few weeks with Phillip and Cassie. She had seen how very much they cared about each other and how they tried to deny that at first. Just as she had been denying her love for William ever since the night she drank too much brandy in her despair over him and went tumbling over the cliff.

And she now knew that what William said was the truth, and she had learned her lesson well. It had just taken her decades longer, that was all.

"You see now, do you not?" William whispered. "Cassandra is you, and Phillip is me. And you have helped them to have the chance that we never had, thanks to our own stubbornness."

"I see," Louisa said with a joyful smile. "I see perfectly." She turned her face up to his for a kiss she had been waiting one hundred and thirty years for.

When it was over, William looked at her solemnly and said, "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Oh, yes. I am ready."

Within seconds, the library was utterly deserted, as if no one had ever been there at all.

Except for two shadowy figures in the corner.

"Do you think she is gone forever?" Lady Lettice asked, staring at the spot on the desk where Louisa and William had just been. She would have thought she would be glad to see Louisa gone, to have the East Tower all to herself. But she found that she felt strangely bereft.

"Oh, I am sure she will come back to visit one day," Sir Belvedere said, reaching into his armor to produce a handkerchief, which he presented to her with a flourish. "She will not be able to resist giving us all the gossip from the other side."

"No doubt," Lady Lettice said. "And I am very happy she found her husband again. It is only..."

"Only what?"

"Well, I am not sure I will ever find my love again. Or if he was ever truly my love in the first place."

Sir Belvedere patted her hand. "You will. We just have to learn our lessons, as William said. And we are intelligent people. We can do that, I am sure."

Lady Lettice smiled at him. "I am sure we can."

"In the meantime, would you care for a card game in the East Tower, fair lady?"

"I would enjoy that. But first, I must snatch Angelo away from the refreshments."

* * *

"It was a lovely ball. The finest ever, I am sure," Cassie sighed, leaning on Phillip's arm as he led her up the staircase and down the corridor toward her chamber. She had imbibed just a tiny bit too much champagne at supper, and her heeled slippers wobbled.

The house was quiet now, with all the guests departed or tucked up in their chambers, and the first grayish light of dawn peeped in at the windows. But Cassie still felt like she could dance for hours more.

"It was a splendid ball," Phillip agreed. "Though I hope you will not want to go on having masked balls every year when we are married." He tugged again at the hem of his costume, as he had been doing all evening.

Cassie laughed. "If I do, you will not have to come as an ancient Greek again."

"Will I not?" he said hopefully.

"No. You could be an ancient Roman!"

"Such a great difference."

"Indeed there is." She stopped at the door to her room and leaned back against the sturdy wood, smiling up at him. "But I confess I rather like
this
costume."

"Then I will wear it again, though only for you."

"Hm, that sounds quite acceptable to me." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you for tonight. It was indeed splendid."

"A night worthy to tell our grandchildren about?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Yet also, I fear, a long one. You should be asleep. My mother and your aunt will want to get started with wedding plans later, I am sure."

"I am ready for anything! Even wedding plans." But then she broke into a large, uncontrollable yawn. "I
am
rather sleepy, though. Good night, Phillip dear."

"Good night, my love."

Cassie kissed him once more, then ducked into her chamber, closing the door softly behind her.

Only when she heard his footsteps fading down the corridor did she turn to face the room and see the note that lay on the floor, a white square against the dark blue rug. She knelt down to pick it up, her satin skirts puddling around her, and opened it right there.

She read the short message twice, a smile spreading across her lips. "Oh, Louisa," she whispered. "Good fortune to you, my friend. Good fortune."

Epilogue

Five Years Later

"Penelope! Where are you?" Lady Lettice called, picking her way over the pebbles of the beach to peek into the tunnel entrance. She heard a soft, childish giggle, but pretended to be completely befuddled. "Lady Penelope Leighton. You must come out right this moment, or I shall be forced to fetch your father."

Dark, glossy curls peeped out from behind an upturned, rotting fishing boat. Then the whole child popped up, brown eyes shining with excitement and dust smeared across her dainty pink dress.

"Here I am, Lady Lettice!" she sang. "I was hiding from you."

"Indeed you were. You are becoming far too adept at that." Lady Lettice moved cautiously into the tunnel and took little Penelope by the hand. She had not been in the tunnels since that day more than five years ago, when Antoinette had summoned her there. She was not at all certain that she wanted to be there now, but she had to keep a sharp eye on Penelope. Cassandra and Phillip had entrusted her with their daughter's care this afternoon.

"I thought I told you to stay on the shore!" Lady Lettice said to the grinning child.

"Did you, indeed?" Penelope said ingenuously.

"You know that I did."

"Well, I thought this
was
part of the shore. Does it not have sand on the floor?" Penelope trailed one tiny slipper through the grit of the tunnel floor. "Just like the beach."

The child was too clever for her own good, Lady Lettice thought wryly. "How did you find this place?"

Penelope tugged away from her to peek into one of the old crates stacked along the walls. "The man told me."

"Man?" Lady Lettice said, puzzled. "Do you mean Angelo?"

Penelope giggled. "No! Angelo is
Angelo.
The man is just a man." She picked a stick up off the floor and used it to poke through the contents of the crate.

Lady Lettice looked warily over her shoulder to the dark depths of the tunnel.
A man.
Could it possibly be that Mr. Bates, who had disappeared from England so long ago, and, as they had heard later, disappeared from Jamaica as well, was here?

No, she reassured herself. Mr. Bates would not come back; there was nothing for him to gain. Cassie had long ago sold her land in Jamaica, and she was long married, with Penelope, Edward, and new baby Louisa.

But then—who was "the man"?

Lady Lettice did not see anyone, but she had a creeping feeling about the tunnels. She walked over to Penelope and pulled the child down from the crates.

"Come along, now," she said. "We ought to return to the castle."

Penelope's lower lip trembled. "I am not finished exploring yet!"

"It is almost time for tea. Do you not want some of Cook's special lemon cakes, which she has made just for you?" Lady Lettice knew the value of bribery when it came to the Leighton children.

Penelope eyed the crates, obviously measuring their charms against the lure of cakes. "May I come back later, Lady Lettice?"

"If your parents say you may," Lady Lettice relented. "Perhaps Sir Belvedere or your nursemaid will bring you."

Penelope smiled happily and slipped her hand back into Lady Lettice's. As they turned to leave, a man's deep voice stopped them.

"Lettice," it said.
"Ma belle chere
Lettice."

Lady Lettice turned around and felt her breath catch in her throat. She pulled Penelope close to her.

"Jean-Pierre," she whispered.

"So you remember me?" he said, emerging fully from the shadows. After more than two hundred years, he was still handsome, as dark and dashing as a pirate. He grinned at her.

But Lady Lettice would not be lulled by a dashing smile and a French accent. Not again. "Of course I remember you," she snapped. "Unfortunately."

"That is the man I saw!" Penelope piped up, her voice muffled in the silk of Lady Lettice's gown.

Lady Lettice glared at Jean-Pierre. "So now you are using children in your schemes?" she said scathingly.

Jean-Pierre looked crestfallen. He held his elegant hands out to her beseechingly. "I would never have hurt her,
ma belle
Lettice. I merely wanted to bring you here, so I could talk to you."

Lady Lettice felt a tugging at her skirt and looked down to find Penelope watching her with melting dark eyes. "Please, Lady Lettice," she whispered. "He only wants to talk to you. And he is
so
handsome."

Lady Lettice's gaze snapped back to Jean-Pierre to see if he had heard that. He obviously had, as he was covering his laughter with his hand.

Lady Lettice frowned at him, and he instantly sobered. "What could we have to talk about?" she said. "I thought you said everything when you dashed off back to France."

"Please, Lettice," he said, taking a small step toward her. "All of that was not as it appeared. I have been waiting a very long time to explain to you. I may not have very long here. All I ask is that you listen to me, for half an hour, no longer. If you do not believe me, you need never see me again."

Lady Lettice could feel herself wavering, drawn in by the warm, musical cadence of his voice and by the lure of his words. It had been ever thus with him.

She glanced down at Penelope. "I cannot talk to you now," she said, keeping her tone stern and doubting. "I have to take Lady Penelope back to her parents."

"Certainment.
But you will come back later?" he said hopefully.

"Perhaps." She turned around and walked with Penelope back to the entrance of the tunnel.

As she turned out into the bright sunshine, she heard him call, "Please come back,
ma couer."

Lady Lettice smiled secretly.
My heart.

* * *

"Are you finished packing yet, Cassie?" Antoinette asked, adding one last book to her own already full valise and snapping it shut.

Cassie knew she should be making the final decision on which gowns to take to Bath. They were meant to leave tomorrow, so that Phillip could discuss his newest book with Aunt Chat's Philosophical Society, and her trunk was not half-full. But she could not resist leaving her task to bend over baby Louisa's basket and tickle her soft little feet.