Come Near Me (27 page)

Richard Brimley listened politely, then stood up,
looked down at Adam in a way that chilled him to the bone. Smiling,
yet without a hint of good humor. “How amusing. You assume that you
are in charge here, Daventry. Nothing could be further removed from
the truth. Now, and from the very beginning. This isn’t about silly
races. It’s a
game,
Daventry, my game. Played by my rules.
And it goes on. Trust me in this, it goes on, until I decide to end
it,” Then he turned on his heels and left the house, clearly with
the intention of never returning.

Adam stared after Richard’s departing back. “What
the devil was
that
about?” he asked his brother.

But Geoff wasn’t speaking to him, obviously sure
that Adam had destroyed what had been a wonderful friendship, a
most singularly enjoyable summer. He’d stormed out of the room,
petulant as a three-year-old, and took himself straight to Sherry,
trying to enlist her support in convincing Adam to apologize to
Dickie.

~ ~ ~

“Why are you being so hard on them?” Sherry asked,
watching Adam as he paced the carpet in their bedchamber.

“Why are you so intent on defending him?” Adam
countered, stopping in front of her, glaring at her as he
spoke.

“Him, Adam? Who are you talking about? I’m talking
about Geoff and Dickie. But you’re not, are you? You’re talking
about Dickie. Why just him? Isn’t Geoff equally as guilty? Or is he
less guilty because he’s your brother?”

“He’s less guilty because he’s an
idiot!”
Adam shouted, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I’m an
idiot. Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I know?”

Sherry tucked her feet under her dressing gown as
she sat on the bed, nervous beyond measure at seeing this new,
angry side of her husband. She’d once thought married people should
argue from time to time, not just exist in some happy daze of
loving. But this wasn’t an argument. This was a man who looked
ready to do mayhem. “You really believe what you’ve been telling
me, don’t you? You believe that Dickie was never our friend? That
this whole summer has been a lie? A
game?
That’s ridiculous,
darling. Why would he do that? Why would anyone do that? What would
he
win?”

Adam subsided on the edge of the bed. “Christ,
Sherry, I don’t know. Looking back... thinking back over
conversations we’ve had... I can see that Dickie has been playing
his own game from the very beginning, playing the piper while we
all danced to his tune. Hinting to me that Geoff might be in love
with you—”

“What?” Sherry shot to her knees, staring at Adam in
total disbelief. “Well, now I
am
angry. That’s absurd, Adam,
and you know it.” She sank back on the bed with an exasperated
groan. “I don’t believe this, Adam. I truly don’t. Next you’ll be
saying
Dickie
is in love with me.”

“No, I don’t think he is,” Adam said quietly. “As a
matter of fact, I’m not even sure he likes us. Any of us. We’re
just part of his game, very helpful pawns, actually.”

“What
game?” Sherry asked, sitting up once
more, laying a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Adam, you’re
frightening me, do you know that?”

“I don’t mean to frighten you, but I’m afraid it’s
unavoidable.” He turned and took both her hands in his, trying to
explain. “There are people, darling, unhappy or bored or just
simply
mean
people in this world. People who, as children,
pulled the wings off butterflies, or set blinded mice inside a
maze, just to watch them try to struggle back out again. People who
make mischief for mischief’s sake. People who dislike their
fellowman so much that they spend their entire lives trying to
prove those fellow men inferior to them, lesser than them, unworthy
of them. Flattering others into stupidity, turning brother against
brother, wife against husband—country against country, if you want
to broaden our discussion. I don’t, frankly. I just want you to
understand that Richard Brimley is not our friend. He’s dangerous.
Worse than that, after all these weeks of hiding behind a smiling,
affable face, he now wants me to know he’s dangerous.”

“By saying what he said to you today?” Sherry
nodded, not totally understanding—she doubted she ever would
understand totally—but remembering what Geoff had told her earlier.
She also remembered Dickie asking her, oh, so long ago, if she
liked to “play.” At the time, she had thought him silly. But now?
After what Adam had just told her? “Maybe this is another game? A
silly challenge of sorts, to see who has more control over
Geoff—you, or Dickie?”

Adam leaned closer, kissed her. “No, darling. He
wants to see how much control he has over
me.
I made some
inquiries this afternoon of Seth Frame’s solicitor in the village,
and found that Brimley paid twice the normal price to rent Frame
Cottage, successfully ousting a family from Sussex who had wanted
to tenant the place for the summer months. This, after telling us
he was here to hide from his creditors in London. He came here on
purpose, Sherry, sought us out. Sought me out. He found a way to be
at our ball in London. You didn’t know that, but I did, probably
because he wanted me to know. It doesn’t make any sense, but the
man wants to hurt me. Through Geoff. Through you. It’s the only
possible explanation.”

“You’re frightening me, Adam,” Sherry said, laying
her head on his shoulder. “But if you’re so afraid of Dickie we
should leave here, that’s all. Go back to London, or to one of your
other estates. At least until you remember why Dickie wants to harm
you. Had you met him before, and just don’t recall? Or perhaps he
has a cousin, or a good friend—someone you insulted in some way?
Adam, as your wife, I should know this—but do you gamble?”

He smiled at her. “Have I ruined Brimley’s cousin or
whoever at the card table? Is that what you’re asking? Do you think
Brimley would then try to drive a wedge between Geoff and me,
perhaps even between you and me, by thinking up such an elaborate
scheme? No, darling. This isn’t revenge. It’s a
game,
remember? Richard Brimley saw me, probably in London, disliked me
for some reason, and decided I was the sort of person he’d enjoy
toying with, possibly even destroying. I’m his butterfly, his blind
mouse. I’m not afraid of him, even if I don’t understand him. I’m
only worried about Geoff, and about you. Promise me you’ll stay
away from Brimley, all right?”

“I promise,” Sherry said as clearly and earnestly as
she could when, inside, she was shaking with a thousand unnamed
fears. “But do you really think he’ll be back, after the way he
stormed out of here today? He’s as good as thrown down the
gauntlet, or whatever you want to call it. He has to know he won’t
be welcome at Daventry Court.”

“Which will make my stubborn, angry brother twice as
welcome at Frame Cottage,” Adam grumbled, against her hair. “I’ve
ordered Geoff never to speak with the man again, and after more
screaming and invective than either of us will want to remember,
he’s agreed. I just pray I can believe him. If the three of us can
remain solidly together on this, Brimley’s game will be over.”

“Without us ever knowing why he began the game at
all, what his motives were, what he’d hoped to win?”

Adam smiled sadly, feeling old, older than anyone
else in the world. “Without us ever knowing why he began it at all,
yes. But he’s already won, Sherry. Because we’ll always wonder,
won’t we? We’ll always wonder why, we’ll never trust anyone else
quite so much again. We’ll have, in a way, become almost as cynical
and distrusting of our fellowman as he is. For someone like Richard
Brimley, that alone is a victory. God knows it’s certainly our
loss.”

~ ~ ~

Sherry had every intention of obeying her husband,
even if she didn’t truly understand him. If he didn’t want her with
Dickie, she would stay away from the man. Give up the fun they’d
all had before the races turned dangerous, turn her back on the
whirl of society around them—a whirl that continued, even if it no
longer included the residents of Daventry Court.

Estate business once more occupied Adam, seemingly
from early morning to late into the evening. The steward fell from
the roof of a barn and would be in no condition to run the estate
for several weeks. A particularly nasty infestation of bugs had
closed the gristmill for over a week as Adam oversaw the workers
scrubbing the huge building from top to bottom, and burning the
grain that had been scheduled for the wheel. Packets seemed to
arrive daily from London, all of them containing papers that needed
Adam’s immediate attention.

Leaving Sherry very much to her own devices, just as
she had been before Dickie’s arrival on the scene. And she missed
him. Missed his smile, his jokes, the excitement of being in his
presence.

As the days passed, and as Geoff routinely began to
disappear for hours at a time, and as Adam was occupied with estate
matters, Sherry began to rethink her husband’s strange description
of Richard Brimley, of Brimley’s motives, the danger Adam believed
Dickie presented to them.

It was all so silly. Adam’s rules had made them
virtual hermits at Daventry Court, while the rest of the
countryside enjoyed themselves as before. The races continued, the
parties, the picnics. If Dickie had planned to “destroy” Adam,
surely he would go on about doing it, not spend his days in the
same carefree way, playing at life, enjoying life, clearly without
a thought to Adam or Geoff or her.

Adam was jealous of Dickie. That’s what Geoff had
said, and that’s what Sherry slowly grew to believe, much as she
didn’t want to think her husband could be so venal. He was jealous
of Dickie’s popularity, his brother’s affection for the man—and
perhaps even worried that his own wife found the man too attractive
by half.

No matter what the reasons, no matter what Adam
said, the end remained the same. Sherry was once more alone at
Daventry Court, at loose ends, walking the estate, dreaming her
solitary dreams. Only the innocence was gone...

~ ~ ~

“Geoff? Where are you going?”

Adam’s brother turned to Sherry, his smile somewhere
between defiant and guilty. “Oh, no, sweet sister. If I tell you,
and if Adam asks, you won’t be able to summon a creditable fib.
Just forget you saw me, all right?”

“You’re going to see Dickie, aren’t you?” Sherry
took hold of his arm, trying to keep him from leaving. “You’ve been
sneaking around meeting with Dickie and the others behind Adam’s
back for two weeks while he’s so very busy. Haven’t you?”

He shook off her hand. “And if I have? What of it?
Dickie’s the best friend a man could have, and a damn sight better
than my missish brother, telling me where I can go, who I can talk
to, what I can and cannot do.” And then he smiled. “We’re having
another race. Do you want to come along? I know it’s raining a
little, but that just adds to the sport, don’t you think? Dickie
said you’re certainly welcome. I think he misses you.”

“I miss him, too,” Sherry admitted, patting Geoff’s
cheek. “I can’t believe one silly argument has grown into such a
wide breach between Adam and Dickie. I’ve often thought, if I could
only talk to Dickie, ask him to explain—”

Geoff all but pounced on her. “There’s my girl!
Adam’s gone God knows where, so he’ll never know. Come with me,
Sherry. Meet with Dickie, talk with him, watch me race. We’ve set
up the most smashing course.”

“I’ll have to write a note for Adam, in case he
comes home,” she told him, and Geoff waited impatiently while she
penned a lie having to do with visiting the squire and his wife,
then propped it on Adam’s desk. It felt wrong, lying to Adam, even
on paper, but with any luck at all she’d be home in ample time to
retrieve the note.

Geoff then pulled her after him, willy-nilly,
gathering up cloaks and hats and other whatnots as they went, and
before Sherry knew it she was sitting up beside Geoff in his
curricle and on her way.

Dickie was waiting at the crossroads, sitting in his
own curricle, a huge black umbrella over his head. He hopped down
from the seat when he saw Sherry and ran to her, his smile as
beautiful as ever, his expression open and loving and so genuinely
friendly that Sherry spared a moment to wonder if her dearest
husband had somehow lost his mind these past weeks.

“Sherry!” Dickie called out, pulling her down from
the seat and giving her a hug before setting her on her feet in the
muddy roadway. “What on earth are you doing here? Geoff, you
rapscallion, how could you drag your lovely sister-in-law out in
this downpour?”

“It wasn’t a downpour when we left Daventry Court,”
Geoff grumbled, looking about as if to locate something or someone
who had gone missing. “Where is everyone? Don’t tell me they’re
afraid of a little bit of damp?”

Sherry took out her already damp handkerchief and
wiped rain from her cheeks, her nose, her chin. “Damp, Geoff? We’re
likely to drown in this. The race can wait for another day, can’t
it, Dickie? Why don’t we all just take shelter in that barn over
there until the worst is over? We can talk, sort out a few
things?”

“I don’t know, Sherry,” Dickie said consideringly.
“I was to race Geoff here for my pair. He wants them badly—don’t
you, Geoff? We’re here now, and it’s a short course. All he has to
do is drive from here to the next crossroads, pick up one of the
flags I’ve already placed there, and return so that I can try to
best his time. I know I shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to
complete the course, although I can’t vouch that Geoff will take
less than a quarter hour. Surely, Sherry, you can stand in the
shelter of the barn for that short time?”

“Say yes, Sherry,” Geoff pleaded earnestly.
“Especially now that Dickie has all but said I won’t be able to
beat him. Your bonnet’s ruined, so you can easily sacrifice one of
your ribbons as my favor. I always do best when I’m wearing your
favor. Please, Sherry? We’ve come this far.”