C
HAPTER
22
“I
can’t work with you hovering about like a vulture waiting for the carcass to stop jerking.” Dr. Snowdon propped his spectacles on his forehead and sent a gargoyle’s frown toward Jacob. “If you leave the manuscript with me, I’m sure I’ll be able to have something for you by tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“I’m sorry, doctor, but we dare not leave the manuscript here. It might not be safe for you to be in possession of it and we value you too highly,” Julianne said soothingly. “But he’s right, Jacob. Come sit down. You’ll wear a groove in the floor with all that pacing.”
Jacob plopped into the chair beside her. They’d spent the night in St. Paul’s, snatching what sleep they could and ducking down in the pew when the sexton made his rounds through the dark space. Once dawn broke, they slipped out and hailed a hansom. Jacob ordered the driver to take them to his home, where they stayed just long enough to liberate the first half of the manuscript from his safe. Then, ignoring Mrs. Trott’s pleas that they take time to break their fast and tidy up a bit, they came directly to Dr. Snowdon’s office.
Julianne probably should have insisted they return to Lord and Lady Kilmaine’s town house, but the odds of her being able to reenter the home without being discovered were exceedingly thin. If her reputation was already ruined in the eyes of her hosts, another few hours would not make it worse.
Ordinarily, Julianne would be frantic over the scandal that was sure to ensue when she finally dragged herself back over their threshold. Especially looking as disheveled as she was. She’d left her pelisse in the Druid’s antechamber and her crinoline in the tunnel leading to St. Paul’s crypt. Her long skirts hung limply. Clinging to her legs and bunching under her feet, they threatened to trip her with each step. Her hair was a fright, she was sure.
But every time Jacob looked at her, she felt like a queen. He loved her. And even more astoundingly, there was every possibility she loved him back.
She’d avoided love as if it was smallpox. Love made women too pliant, too weak. It robbed them of the ability to choose their own path. Marriage might be a necessary evil, but love was a disease to be shunned at all costs.
And yet she’d been infected with it anyway.
Julianne wasn’t ready to think about what that meant for her plans. But when she slanted a glance at Jacob, her chest nearly burst with tenderness. She was willing to shove questions about the future aside and concentrate on the sweetness of now.
“Hmm. Fascinating,” Snowdon murmured and Jacob leaped to his feet.
“What?”
“Patience, old boy. I deciphered this section but haven’t translated it satisfactorily yet. Celts were souls of poetry, you know, and I want to stay true to the spirit of the original.” George removed his spectacles and scrubbed them with his handkerchief. “But iambic pentameter doesn’t exactly flow from my pen this early in the morning and—”
“Hang the poetry, George,” Jacob interrupted. “What does it say?”
“Something about a dagger in Merlin’s Cave.”
“What about it?”
“Well, it’s a bit odd, since I always assumed the cave associated with Arthurian lore would be in Cornwall, near Tintagel, you know,” George said. “Or maybe in the Forest Sauvage where Arthur was fostered.”
Jacob crowded close to peer over George’s shoulder at his squiggly Latin notes. “I see it mentions Penton.”
“Good show, old chap. Guess you haven’t forgotten everything you tried not to learn at Cambridge. That’s what it seems to say, though I’m at a loss to explain it,” George admitted. “It’s beyond strange to think that Merlin’s Cave might be right here in London, beneath Penton Rise, if my assumptions are correct.”
“Oh, I think you’d be surprised to learn what lurks beneath the streets of London,” Julianne said.
Or beneath St. Paul’s cathedral, for that matter.
“Penton Rise,” Jacob repeated under his breath. “I always assumed that was a natural hill. Do you suppose it’s actually an ancient mound of some sort with a hollow space inside?”
“Anything’s possible,” Julianne said, believing those words for the first time in her life. Love, or even the chance of it, was giving her a far rosier outlook than usual. “Does the manuscript say anything about where to find an entrance to the mound?”
“Well, there’s a bit here about seeking the dwelling place of spirits beneath the spirits. Odd, that.” George scratched his head. “Don’t know what to make of it. Not exactly an X marking the spot, what?”
“It’s more than we had before we arrived here,” Jacob said. “Thanks, George. We’ll be out of your way now.”
He gathered up the manuscript and his friend’s notes.
“Wait,” Dr. Snowdon said. His face fell in dismay, the sad expression reminding Julianne of a disappointed bloodhound. “There’s much more for me to do with the manuscript.”
“And we’ll be happy to let you do it,” Julianne said, checking her silver pendant watch. Half the morning was gone and facing her hosts wasn’t going to become any easier as more time passed. “But we don’t want to disrupt your practice and we can only chase down one clue at a time.”
“Come by my place this evening,” Jacob said. “I’ll let you tinker with syntax to your heart’s content.”
He held open the door for Julianne. She stepped into the corridor, where she nearly stumbled into the neatly dressed woman waiting there.
Probably one of Dr. Snowdon’s hysteria patients.
The woman ran a disapproving gaze over Julianne’s disheveled ensemble and then sent Jacob a censorious look. “You waited far too long, sir. I’ll warrant your wife has the worst case of hysteria Dr. Snowdon’s ever seen.”
Then she smiled kindly at Julianne and patted her forearm. “Keep your appointments with the doctor regularly, dear. He’ll put you to rights in no time.”
“It’s not as if you’re about to face a dragon,” Jacob said as the hansom bore them closer to Lord and Lady Kilmaine’s home. “It’s only my cousin Viola, for pity’s sake.”
Julianne sighed. Men had no idea what sort of dragons lurked beneath muslin and lace. An enraged hostess who felt her hospitality betrayed by the improper behavior of a guest could be every bit as formidable as a fire-breathing lizard.
And far more vindictive.
There was nothing else for it. Julianne had sown the wind. It was time to face the whirlwind.
Once Jacob handed her out of the cab, she squared her shoulders and marched up to the front door of the Kilmaines’ home. When the door swung open, she and Jacob were ushered inside. While they waited for the butler to fetch his mistress, she mentally rehearsed her apology for the umpteenth time.
But she never had opportunity to speak it. At the announcement of their arrival, Viola came flying down the hall toward the parlor where they waited. Julianne was engulfed in a hug before she could sputter a word.
“Mercy, I was so worried about you. Nearly called the constable to start a search but Quinn wouldn’t let me,” she said as she released Julianne and then gave Jacob the same bear-hug of welcome. “Of course, once we sent to your home and found out you were missing too, Jacob, we figured everything was all right.” A puzzled frown drew her brows together. “But you haven’t had time to go to Gretna Green and back. What did you do, you sly-boots? Get a ship’s captain to cast off in the Thames and say the words over you? Jacob, you never said a word about procuring a special license and—”
Then she stopped gushing, taking in Julianne’s missing hoops and grubby gown. Jacob was minus his collar studs and the knees of his trousers were black with grime.
“Oh, dear! I fear I’ve made a mistake. You didn’t elope, did you?” Viola said slowly.
“No,” Jacob said. “Though it’s an idea with merit. God save any sane Englishman from the folderol of a formal wedding.”
Julianne flinched. Did that mean he wanted to elope with her or was the abstract idea of it only slightly less repugnant than a church rite? He’d asked her to wed him once, though at the time she’d been certain it was only because he wanted to bed her and thought a proposal would ease his way. Now that they’d spent the night together, even if it was only huddled chastely in a church pew, society would expect them to wed to hush up any hint of scandal.
Jacob hadn’t broached the subject and Julianne wasn’t sure what she’d say if he did. Marriage still meant surrendering her freedom to a man’s whim. Even if the man was Jacob, it was a risk.
“Better get Quinn,” Jacob said to his cousin. “We owe you both an explanation of what’s going on and I’d rather only go through it once.”
“I’m sorry to have worried you, Viola,” Julianne began, but Jacob’s cousin cut her off.
“Never mind. I’m sure you had a perfectly sound reason for slipping out of the house last night. At least, you used the back door. I’ve been known to go through a window or two myself,” she said with a wink. “Let me get Quinn before I burst with curiosity.”
Viola bustled off and Julianne released a pent-up sigh.
“What did I tell you?” Jacob said.
“You were right. She’s wonderful.” Julianne smiled after Viola’s retreating form, then turned to give Jacob a hug. “I love your family.”
“Don’t be too hasty,” he said, running a hand down her spine and pressing her close against him. “You haven’t met them all yet. I’m saving the lunatic aunt and the second cousin languishing in Fleet Prison for later.”
“How much later?”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I figure I’d better wait till you’re firmly in love with me.”
“Oh,” she said as Viola and Quinn’s footsteps clicked down the hall toward them. She stood on tiptoe to brush his lips with hers. “You may not have long to wait.”
Jacob told Viola and Quinn everything. He explained about the final dagger and their search for it, about George Snowdon’s part in deciphering the ancient codex and the secret society of Druids.
Julianne shared their sleepless night in the shadowy sanctuary of St. Paul’s after they made good their escape from the underground temple. She added her hope that somehow during their search they could prove her late husband had not taken his own life. And she was entirely frank about her anonymous buyer for the full set of daggers, what the sale would mean to her and those who were depending on her.
“But if we aren’t successful in finding the remaining dagger, I hope I can interest you and some of your friends in supporting Mrs. Osgood’s school,” Julianne said. “There’s no place else for these poor girls and I can’t let them be cast back onto the street.”
“Of course not,” Viola said. “Even if you do find the dagger, I hope you’ll allow me the pleasure of helping the school as well. The world is a difficult place for a woman without the protection of a good man.” She smiled at her husband and a not-so-secret message of love and trust passed between them. “It must be even worse for a young girl without family or a benefactor.”
Julianne blinked back tears. Viola understood how important the school was to her. No one had provided a safe haven for her and her sister Mary when they were young. In some small way, providing one for others filled up a hole in her heart and eased her guilt over not finding her sister.
“Viola and I haven’t had an adventure for, oh, a week or two at least.” Quinn rubbed his palms together in anticipation. “What can we do to help you find this mysterious dagger?”
“Well, if you happen to know a way to burrow under Penton Rise to find Merlin’s Cave or where a fellow might ‘seek the dwelling place of spirits beneath the spirits,’ I’d bless your name,” Jacob said with a yawn. “For now, a bath, breakfast, and a bed for a few hours are at the top of my list. In no particular order, actually.”
The conundrum of how to find the dagger hidden in London swirled around Julianne’s brain, but she too felt the call of soft linen to her tired body.
“I’d appreciate being able to stay with you for a while longer,” Julianne said. “At least, until we uncover the final dagger.”
“Of course, you can stay. That goes without saying,” Viola said. “We want you to know we’re willing to help in any way we can. My word, a search for a Druid dagger is much more exciting than the first story you told me about some dry old business partnership between you and Jacob. Of course, I didn’t believe that sorry tale for a minute. Come.” She held out her hand to Julianne. “Jacob may prefer his comforts in no particular order, but I’ll wager you’d like something to eat while your bath is being drawn. Then I’ll have Maggie turn down your bed.”
Julianne linked elbows with her hostess and let herself be led to the breakfast room for a quick repast. Viola hadn’t recriminated her, hadn’t turned a hair, even though Julianne and Jacob had spent the night together in an unwed state.
She reveled in the sure knowledge that she had more than a friend in Viola Preston. She had found a kindred spirit. Almost. . . a sister.
Julianne would probably never know what had happened to Mary. But the love she’d received from her sibling was now echoed in this unconditional acceptance from Jacob’s cousin.