“Thirty.”
“How long have you been . . . thirty?”
“About six years.”
“I’m not half as impressed now.” He smiled.
I focused on the pedestrians, and tried to extract a thought, or some sense of who they were before they disappeared from sight. My mind braved revisiting a disturbing memory, one that I’d buried deep, but now felt compelled to reveal to Marcus. A monstrous recollection that I hoped he could cope with as I now disclosed it to him.
Marcus’ smile faded as he picked up on my ruminations. “You drank from Lilly and . . .” He sank back in his seat, devastated.
“I assumed if I told you in a speeding carriage, you wouldn’t jump out, and you’d have no choice but to hear my side.”
“Delacroix forced you to do it?”
I nodded. “Still, I deserve your hate.”
He reached forward and rested his hand on my knee, and in that moment, we shared something unexpected, a mutual understanding that went beyond the physical.
He looked away, embarrassed that he’d revealed such affection. “I still can’t quite believe that we can avoid . . .”
“Death’s sting.” I tilted my head and smiled at him. “The Stone Masters believe that we can reform from ash.”
“Really?”
“Outlandish, I know.”
Marcus stared out of the window again.
I followed his gaze. “The self-discovery seems unending.”
“Will God ever forgive us?”
“Probably you more than me.”
“You didn’t choose this life?”
“No, but I revel in the dark.”
“You like being this?” He looked surprised.
I shrugged. “I find that I do.”
“How old is Sunaria?”
“You better ask her.”
He chuckled to himself.
“I want to open an orphanage,” I said.
“Where did that come from?” Marcus leaned back. “And why?”
“For all the right reasons.”
“And the money?”
“Not an issue.”
“I’d like to help in any way I can.”
“Good.”
“We’ll have fun tonight, eh?” Marcus asked. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
I rested my feet on the seat opposite. “You look good.”
“This shaving three times a day thing is bothersome, though.”
“As you’ve discovered, when we’re turned, we keep the same look, and as stubble is considered passé . . .”
“I’m feeling awfully dapper.” He pulled at his shirt collar. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“King’s court.”
Marcus’ jaw dropped.
I slid down in the seat and closed my eyes.
“The king’s court?” He sounded utterly amazed.
I opened an eyelid. “Blue blood, I hear, is a delicacy.”
Chapter 47
Circa 1500
I AWOKE TO THE most awful noise.
An unearthly screeching resonated throughout the manor. Half-dressed, I flew out of bed, closely followed by Sunaria.
We found Rachel in the living room with a violin positioned under her chin. “Hello.” She grinned, seemingly unaware of the terrible sound she had made.
I raised my eyebrows. “Hello.”
“Look what Marcus bought me.” She raised the instrument triumphantly into the air.
“Remind me to thank him.” I suppressed the sarcasm.
Sunaria stifled a laugh.
“Perhaps you could find somewhere else to practice?” I said, “Like France?”
Rachel dropped the violin to her side. “You don’t like it?”
“Let’s get you an instructor.” I winked at Sunaria. “I’m sure we’ll find one across town.”
Sunaria strolled over to the window and peeked out the side of the curtain. “It’s dark already, but it’s still so early.”
“It gets darker earlier in winter,” Rachel said.
I joined Sunaria by the window. “So England does have its benefits.” Outside was the usual hustle and bustle of Belgravia—carriages rolling by, children playing catch and annoying the street merchants. I turned my attention back to Rachel. There was something familiar about her instrument. I gestured for her violin.
Clutching the neck, I tweaked the peg box, strumming the strings to check the pitch, and breathed in the woody fragrance. I admired the walnut form and ran my fingers along the delicate shape. Music vibrated through me. I rested my chin on the black rest and the fingers of my left hand positioned naturally on the fingerboard. With my right hand, I slid the bow.
The violin rejoiced, responding to my touch, a violinist’s interpretation as music flowed with the perfect sequence, moving past what I’d heard and straying from the familiar, articulating timbre and texture, composing notes, and conveying emotions, a voice beyond words, a cadence of extraordinary intimacy. Swaying now, I disappeared inside the melody and became the music.
Savoring the final note, I came back.
An eerie quiet descended on the room.
“Will you teach me to play like that?” Rachel eventually whispered.
Sunaria frowned. “I didn’t know you could play the violin.”
I held the instrument at arm’s length, trying to ascertain what had just happened. “I can’t.”
“He played the violin, didn’t he?” Sunaria’s tone was edgy.
The bow slipped from my fingers.
An awful memory stirred of being shackled to the wall, deep within the dungeons of Blackfriars, below where we stood now, haunted by the music of this very instrument, awaiting my next torture, and full of fear that it would never end.
“Delacroix.” His name caught in my throat. I swung the violin and smashed it against the wall, sending splinters flying.
Rachel’s face fell and her tears welled. I stared down at the scattered pieces. Sunaria stared back at me incredulously.
I cleared my throat, and tried to reclaim some decorum. “I’ll um, get you another one, Rachel. This one appears to have a flaw.”
Rachel gathered the walnut fragments and Sunaria assisted her. The tip of my shoe tapped the discarded bow and Sunaria pulled it out of my reach.
I was dazed.
Marcus crashed through the door and stared at me wide-eyed. He gazed down at what had once been a violin.
“I’ll get her another one,” I said.
Marcus neared me. “I’ve found him.”
“What?”
“Jacob.” Marcus nodded. “I know where he is.”
* * * *
If I could have willed Marcus to go faster, I would have done so. We flew over the rooftops, quickly arriving at Number 12, Petherton Road, nestled in the hamlet of Newington Green.
Marcus and Sunaria waited for me across the street, shielded in a shadowy alley. Using darkness as my cover, I approached the townhouse, and peered into the half open window. Meager candlelight vacillated within the sparse room.
I’d found Jacob.
I bit into my hand, stifling a sob. I wanted to burst in and grab him. Jacob, now nine-years-old, appeared well. He sat before a wooden bench, pummeling into the base of a small basin. Close by sat a man in his fifties, studying the contents of several books that he’d balanced on his lap. He had a wise, kind face and a serene demeanor.
I turned back to see Sunaria staring at me, her eyes full of hope. When she saw my expression, her face lit up.
With pride, I studied Jacob, reassured that he’d found a safe haven. He appeared content. Jacob resembled his mother even more now, an uncanny reminder of Annabelle and a painful reminder of his elder brother. He’d grown in height, evidence of being well cared for, and his modest attire was smart. His warm clothes were perfect for another harsh English winter. I felt thankful to the gentleman for taking such good care of him.
Jacob jumped off his chair, approached his mentor, and topped up his cup. His reward was a warm smile. They both resumed their activities.
Fearful that I’d start sobbing with joy, I rejoined Marcus and Sunaria in the alleyway. With my hand on my chest, I tried to steady my nerves. The relief was immense. In a moment, I’d burst into that house and grab him, but first I had to think it through, work out how I’d explain myself to the fresh faced boy who may have forgotten me. Didn’t want to frighten him and push him away.
“Jacob’s the physician’s assistant,” Marcus explained. “His name is Doctor Potts.”
“How did you find him?” I asked.
“The old man made a late night call to a patient,” Marcus continued. “Jacob was with him.”
Sunaria looked harried. “Marcus doesn’t think you should remove him.”
“What? Why?” Disconcerted, I stared back up at the window. “We have servants that can watch over him when I can’t.”
“He’s settled here,” Marcus said.
“This is none of your business,” Sunaria snapped.
“I’ve been searching for him, as well,” Marcus said, sulkily.
Sunaria folded her arms. “Then you know the best place for him is with his father.”
“Wait, wait,” I interrupted. “What’s brought this on?”
“What if the Creda come back?” Marcus asked.
“Get Jacob and let’s go,” Sunaria insisted.
“Jacob is getting an education,” Marcus said.
“He doesn’t need to work. We can take care of him,” Sunaria’s tone rose with her impatience.
I leaned against the wall. “Does the physician have a wife?”
“I haven’t seen anyone other than them,” Marcus said.
“We’ve waited this long,” Sunaria said, panicked. “We’re not leaving him here.”
I tried to shake off the procrastination. My inability to watch over him before had put him in danger and I’d lost him. The thought of making the wrong decision again scared me. Running my fingers through my hair, trying to suppress the nagging doubt, I paced. Enemies of ours, known or unknown, could threaten him. My inability to protect my son during the day would leave him exposed.
There was movement at the window. The curtain was drawn closed.
“He’s right.” I felt panic as I spoke those words, trying to find the truth in them.
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” Sunaria sucked in her breath. “You think that this place is safe? Being dragged to sick people’s homes? What if he catches something?”
I hesitated, searching for the right words. “She does have a point.”
“He’s living with a physician,” Marcus said. “He won’t put the boy in harm’s way.”
“How do you know that?” Sunaria asked annoyed. “What if he beats the boy?”
“He looks well cared for.” I glanced back up at the window.
“The old man does appear to have reached a good age,” Marcus said.
“What has that got to do with anything?” Sunaria snapped.
“Well, I was just answering your concern about disease,” he replied. “When he’s old enough for you to explain, he may want to live with you.”
“He will live with me,” I said abruptly.
“I don’t believe we’re even having this discussion.” Sunaria gestured in frustration.
“This day should be glorious . . .” I rubbed my temples, “instead, it’s tortuous.”
“Look, we know where he is now.” Marcus squeezed my shoulder. “Let’s just give this decision some thought.”
I pushed Marcus’ hand off.
“Jacob has found stability,” Marcus continued. “I’m not saying don’t see him. He’s just safer here.”
“If he’s seen at the manor, he could be at risk.” I sighed.
“You’re seriously considering leaving him here?” Sunaria asked me.
My throat tightened, restricting my breathing. I felt sick.
Marcus shoveled his feet.
“We’re leaving him here.” I turned away from them. “It’s decided.”
“Why?” Sunaria said.
“Because this is home.” My voice sounded strange to me. “I want him to have everything that I can’t give him.”
“What can that old man give him that you can’t?” Sunaria’s lips trembled.
“Daylight,” I said.
* * * *
Despite having made my decision, I lingered, staring up at the house.
I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. Not even getting the opportunity to hold him was torture. It would be an easy thing to break in, seize Jacob, and whisk him off, go through the motions I’d been planning since I’d first stepped foot in London. Leaving him in the place where I’d found him had not even been an option. Marcus had planted doubt and I hated him for it.
Unaffected by the morning chill, though slightly distracted by a nagging hunger, it dawned on me that I didn’t want to expose Jacob to this life. True love, I realized, was about letting go, freeing those whom we cared most about.
Sunaria had left hours before, too upset to argue anymore, and Marcus had withdrawn soon after, giving me time to think.
Far off, a cockerel announced the morning. If I’d have had the time to find it, I’d have done so, and then rung the bird’s neck. I strolled away, along the winding street, glancing back several times before leaping up onto one of the rooftops. The night seemed blacker and the cold reached into my bones. London’s nightscape was a mass of grey buildings in disarray, the bleakest city. Longing for Spain, I reassured myself that soon I’d return with Jacob. Heavy-hearted, I made my way home.