The Lightkeeper's Daughter (34 page)

T
HE DARKNESS PRESSED
in on them. John stopped to let his eyes adjust to the lack of light. “He’ll have trouble finding us in the dark,” he said, groping. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”

“Let’s hide under a tree,” Addie suggested. “Maybe we can circle back and get to the road and hike out of here.”

“Good idea.” He swept his hand across the air and moved forward until his fingers touched the pine needles of the nearest tree. “Here. And hurry. I think I hear him.”

He pushed Laura under the tree, and Addie followed. The dog belly-crawled to join her. John squeezed under the sheltering limbs with them. The dead needles were soft under him, and the tree above them released the scent of pine. He squeezed Addie’s hand when something crunched nearby.

The sound grew nearer. It sounded like a hand brushing at every tree. He held his breath and lay with his cheek resting on the pine needles. The darkness was complete, but he sensed Henry was near.

“Kids, this has gone on long enough,” Henry’s voice was right beside him. “I know you’re here somewhere. Let’s talk about this. You’re overreacting.”

Addie’s fingers squeezed John’s. Hard. He couldn’t hear her breathe either. The feet by his head shuffled, and the scent of pine intensified. Then the steps went farther into the woods.

“Julia?” Henry called again. “Come on out, Daughter. This is ridiculous. You don’t need to fear me. I’m only doing what’s best for your mother.”

The footsteps moved deeper into the forest. Henry’s voice grew distant until John couldn’t hear it any longer. He strained to make out whether his father-in-law might be circling back to trick them. There was no sound but the wind in the tree boughs.

“I think it’s safe,” John whispered.

He rolled out from under the pine. When soft sounds told him Addie and her mother had done the same.

Addie clasped her hands together. “I knew he wouldn’t find us. I asked God, and he wouldn’t let me down.”

Oh, how he loved her simple, childlike faith. His own faith seemed weak by comparison. He rose and held out his hand. He helped her to her feet, then raised her mother from her prone position. The poor woman moaned under her breath, and he wondered if her medicine was wearing off.

“This way,” he told them.

He led them back the way they’d come. The moon was out when they stepped out of the forest’s shadows. But it was only a sliver and cast very little light. He glanced up and down the road but didn’t see the carriage.

“Where is it?” Addie asked.

“Maybe the driver didn’t want to be involved in what was happening and went back to town.”

She stepped closer and took his hand. “Could we go to the asylum and borrow a buggy?”

“They wouldn’t loan us one.”

“I was thinking we might borrow it without asking.”

He grinned, though he knew she couldn’t see him. “Why, Miss Adeline, how shocking.”

“We wouldn’t hurt it.”

“It’s a great idea. Let’s see what we can find.”

They set off toward the asylum. The ground was uneven and hard to gauge in the dark. Several times he caught Addie or her mother when they stumbled. The dog kept jogging ahead, then turning back as if to ask why they were so slow. John kept pausing and glancing behind them but saw no sign of Henry.

They reached the building, then wound around to the west, where a large barn stood. The door was unlocked, so he shoved it open and peered inside. It was dark, so he lit a lantern by the door and held it aloft to check out the resources.

A brougham was by the door, and two horses snorted in alarm at the lantern. “Come in,” he told the women.

Addie led her mother inside, and he shut the door. “You hold the light while I harness the horse.”

He soothed the nearest horse, a mare, then led her to the carriage and hitched her up.

“I heard something,” Addie whispered.

He stopped and listened. Shouts, calls from the house. “They’ve realized she’s gone,” he said. “Get in. We’re ready to get out of here.”

He took the lantern from her and set it on the floor, then helped the women inside. He waited for the dog to leap inside too. With the door shut, he blew out the lantern, then shoved open the doors. There was still no one in the yard. He clambered onto the driver’s seat, then grabbed the reins and guided the horse out of the barn. When he slapped the reins on the mare’s rump, she took off at a lively clip for the road.

So far so good. The carriage reached the road, and he turned the horse’s head toward town. With the straightaway in front of them, he prayed for a smooth journey. The horse broke into a canter, and he spared a glance back at the asylum. Men were running from the building toward the barn. They’d realize the horse and carriage were gone. He let the horse have her head, and her stride lengthened.

When he passed the area of the forest where they’d hidden, he stared but saw nothing. It was only when he saw the lights of the hotel that he began to relax. The question was, what were they going to do next? It probably wasn’t safe to stay at the hotel. There weren’t many in town. Henry would have no trouble tracking them down.

Addie’s mother made anxious noises and tugged at her skirt. Maybe she needed the medication her father had mentioned. It might not be safe to withdraw it all at once. Addie should have thought of that sooner.

“Who are you again?” her mother asked in a thin, reedy voice. She sat with Gideon’s head in her lap.

“I’m Julia, Mama. Your daughter.”

“I wish it were true,” the older woman said.

Addie patted her hand. At least her mother seemed to be improving. Outside the window the moon gleamed on the water. The quay was just ahead.

“Why are we going back to the quay?” she asked John through the window.

“We’ve got to get out of town. Your father will track us down if we stay.”

Addie leaned against the leather seat back until the carriage stopped and John jumped down to open the door. This felt like a bad idea.

“How are we going to get a boat at this hour?” she asked when he opened the door. “And what if Father comes here to stay on his yacht for the night?”

He lifted her from the carriage. “We have to try. I’m not sure what else to do.”

The activity at the quay had changed to men laughing and drinking. She heard the occasional splash as someone threw something into the water.

“John?” A man’s voice spoke out of the shadows. Lord Carrington stepped into view.

Addie’s muscles clenched. She stepped down from the carriage and blocked his view of her mother. “Lord Carrington.”

“Miss Eaton.” He raised a brow. “Eloping?”

“Not exactly.”

“Thomas. Is that you?” Her mother’s voice was thin and weak.

Lord Carrington grew rigid. His eyes widened. “W-Who is that?”

Addie stepped out of the way. “My mother.” She watched him come forward and peer into the carriage. She heard his gasp.

“Praise be to God, it is you, Laura.” His voice trembled.

If nothing else, Addie knew he would help save her mother. There was no doubt how he felt about her. “We need your help, sir. Most especially, my mother needs it.”

With obvious reluctance, he took his gaze from her mother and turned to her. “I am at your disposal, Miss Addie.”

“My father had her locked away in an asylum. He’s looking for us now. We have to escape. Quickly.”

“Of course. My yacht is moored in the bay. My man is right here with the dinghy.” He reached into the carriage. “You can come out now, Laura. No one will hurt you.” He helped her down with the utmost tenderness.

Her mother stood blinking at the lights. “I’m so cold,” she said, her teeth chattering.

Lord Carrington glanced at Addie. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

“I think she’s overdue whatever drugs they were giving her.”

“Laudanum?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“I have some aboard ship in the medical kit. We’ll wean her off it more gently.”

“You sound as though you know of these matters.”

He smiled gently. “You wouldn’t want to know the things I’ve seen.” He nodded toward the pier. “Come. Let’s go.” Still holding Laura’s hand, he led her away.

John stopped a young boy and arranged to have the horse and carriage returned to the asylum. “I don’t trust Carrington,” he said as they followed the gentleman and her mother.

She pressed her fingers on his arm. “We have no choice, John. Where can we go?”

His nod was grudging. “I wish I had my pistol,” he said again.

She followed him to the end of the pier, where a dinghy bobbed. John kept glancing behind them. When he went rigid, she turned to look also.

“It’s my father,” she said to Lord Carrington. “Hurry.”

The deckhand helped them down into the boat. Gideon hesitated, then made the leap to the craft. So far, her father hadn’t spotted them. But he’d seen the carriage. He opened the door and peered inside. As Addie sat down, she saw him emerge.

She grabbed the railing. “He’s seen us!”

“He’s too late,” Lord Carrington said, shoving off.

The men took every available oar and rowed toward the yacht. Addie watched her father gesture and shout from the pier, but she couldn’t make out his words. She prayed for the Lord to slow him down, to help them escape. Her father managed to commandeer a dinghy, but he nearly fell as he tried to maneuver into it.

Their dinghy reached Lord Carrington’s yacht, and moments later they were aboard. The men lashed the dinghy to the side, and Lord Carrington hurried to the cabin to tell the captain to shove off. It seemed an eternity before the large craft began to move away from shore. There was no sign of her father, but his ship was fast. And he wouldn’t give up easily.

Her mother was shaking uncontrollably now. Her teeth chattered, but perspiration dotted her forehead. Addie embraced her and led her to a lounge chair, where a throw lay waiting. She draped her mother’s form with it.

“Mama, I’ll take care of you,” she said.

John eased her into the chair and lifted her feet onto the lounge. Her mother’s eyes were clearer, even though she suffered from a condition Addie didn’t know how to ease. Gideon sat at her feet.

“Who are you again?” her mother asked through her chattering teeth.

“I’m A-Julia. Your daughter, Julia.”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible,” she gasped.

Lord Carrington arrived with a small bottle. He administered some drops to her mother, and the shaking began to ease. “Not too much,” he muttered. He had her sip coffee, then watched her head drop back and her eyes close.

“How long will it take for her to become lucid?” Addie asked.

“Hard to say. A few hours. A few days.”

“I have so many questions to ask her.”

“I can answer some of them,” Lord Carrington said.

Addie curled her fingers around John’s hand. “Why didn’t you answer them the other day?”

“I wasn’t sure what camp you were in. If you loved your father, it would be difficult for you to hear the truth about him. My priority was to get you out of that house. That’s the real reason I offered marriage. I do hope you’ll forgive my ungallant confession.”

John’s bark of laughter held relief. “Then you’ll put up no objections to dropping your suit?”

“I’ll not stand in the way of true love,” Lord Carrington said.

“Why was I not safe in that house?” Addie demanded.

“Because your father is a murderer.”

T
HIRTY-SIX

T
HE SALON BELOW
deck was appointed with plush fabrics and comfortable seating. Lord Carrington had insisted on dinner before he continued with explanations, but Addie could barely eat the delicious food when all she wanted was to know what he’d meant.

“Tell me,” she finally demanded as the men leaned back with their claret. She glanced at her mother, whose eyes were closed. Her color was better, though, and her chest fell up and down with reassuring regularity.

Lord Carrington put his wine on the table. “You asked me why your mother summoned me before she left.”

Addie nodded. “But you didn’t tell me.”

“You weren’t ready to hear it.”

“We are now,” John said, his voice grim.

“I’ll tell you,” her mother’s reedy voice said. She sat up with her eyes open and clear.

Addie moved to her side. “Mama?” She took her mother’s thin hand. It was cold as the waves. Gideon whined and nudged their linked hands.

Her mother held on with a tight grip. “Are you really my Julia?” she asked.

Addie barely managed to choke out the words. “I am.”

Her mother’s wondering eyes traveled Addie’s form. “Praise God,” she said. “I believed you’d drowned.” She passed her hand over her forehead. “So many jumbled memories.”

“Take your time,” Lord Carrington said, moving to her other side.

“Thomas. You too. I prayed for rescue so many years. How many?” she asked. “How long was I locked away?”

“Twenty-three years,” Addie said gently.

Tears flooded her mother’s eyes. “A lifetime,” she murmured. She swallowed hard. “It was all Henry,” she said. “He orchestrated everything. I thought he loved me.”