Page 82 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
Although he attempted to make the question sound light, she sensed with what anxiety he awaited her answer. Silently, she slipped her hand into his.
James setthe candlestick down upon the windowsill in his bedchamber, the flame reflected back in the night-darkened panes. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, rendering the sky a sea of blackness. It was the lonliest part of night, when darkness threatened to stretch on forever, the rose-gold of dawn never to come again.
While Phaedra settled herself into a stiff-backed chair, James paced before her, as though he were a prisoner in the dock preparing to mount one final, desperate defense for his life. The candle flickered, its illumination darting upward, casting James’s hard-sculpted features half in light, half in shadow. Watching him was like gazing upon the souls of two different men trapped within his frame.
It was Armande de LeCroix’s well-modulated voice that spoke to her, as icily controlled as ever; but the fire in the blue eyes and the angry set to the mouth were the features of James Lethington.
“It’s a long story, Phaedra, and not one I can easily bring again to life.”
Phaedra nodded and said gently, “I am ready to listen.”
His words came hesitantly at first, then more confidently as James delved deeper into his tale, weaving a spell about Phaedra until she felt carried back into the past, transported by the anguished recounting of his memories.
Through James’s eyes, she saw, in more detail, much of the story that had already become somewhat familiar to her-the restless young man longing for adventure, yearning to pursue some intangible dream far beyond the staid confines of his family’s china shop. Then came the death of his beloved father, forcing him to assume the responsibilities of the business as well as to look after his mother and sister and his quiet younger brother, Jason. Phaedra heard James’s bitterness at being entrapped in a role to which he was so ill-suited, his guilt and despair as the shop began to fail, his apprehension when he realized the growing attraction between Julianna and Ewan Grantham, his determination to keep his impressionable sister away from the weak man whom he held in contempt.
“You see, my dear, Ewan’s father had already begun arranging his marriage to a rich man’s granddaughter, the beautiful Miss Phaedra Weylin, yet residing in Ireland.” Here James paused to give Phaedra a rueful smile. The smile vanished as he continued, “Ewan had not the courage to defy his father openly, but he wanted Julianna to elope with him. My sister loved all of us far too well to deceive her family in such a manner. Before the elopement could take place, she confessed everything to us.”
James sighed. “I reacted too harshly. I cursed Ewan, forbade her to ever see him again. Julianna dissolved into tears and fled to her room. That was the last time I ever saw her. When I came upstairs from the shop for tea, I found her gone.
No,” he said as though anticipating the question Phaedra had been about to voice. “She hadn’t left to elope with Ewan. She had only gone, with my mother’s permission, to tell him goodbye.I was angry, and would have gone after her at once; but my mother said, ‘Let be, Jamey. She loves the lad, but Julianna is a sensible girl. She only wants to see him one last time, bid him farewell, and give him that little shepherdess she made. We can always design something else for the Emperor.”
James interlaced his hands, his fingers tightening. “I wasn’t concerned about the damned Emperor’s commission. I was worried about my sister, but I allowed my mother to dissuade me. I waited for her return until the sun went down. When I saw the darkness gathering outside and she still hadn’t come back, I went after Ewan Grantham.”
James’s eyes were twin flames as he rounded the darkest bend of this journey back into his past. “I tracked Ewan down to his lodgings, and we nigh had a set-to there and then. He was as furious as I, ranting that I had kept Julianna away from their rendezvous. That was when I realized he hadn’t seen my sister all day, either. A feeling of dread began to churn in my stomach. Then Ewan turned pale. He was obviously afraid. ‘If it was not you who detained Julianna,’ he said to me, ‘then it must have been father.
“Ewan didn’t want to explain any more than that, but he finally told me his father had made threats of what he would do to Julianna if Ewan did not give her up.”
“That sounds most likely,” Phaedra said. “From what I have heard, Carleton Grantham was badly in debt. He needed my grandfather’s money desperately, and his son’s marriage to me was the guarantee he would get it.”
James nodded. “And Lord Carleton was not the sort of man to hold any particular regard for human life. When I thought that Julianna might have been in his hands …” James shuddered. “I forced Ewan at once to tell me where his father was. He said that Lord Carleton had gone out to the Heath to go over marriage settlements with Sawyer Weylin. As usual, Ewanlacked the courage to confront his father himself. So I went alone.”
James’s voice dropped so low it was nearly inaudible. He closed his eyes. Phaedra reached out to him in a comforting gesture, but when he opened his eyes, she shrank back. His gaze fired with a hatred that seared her, although she knew his rage was not directed at her, but at some shadowy figure from the past only James could see.
He resumed. “I had no difficulty gaining entrance to the Heath. The place was strangely empty, not a servant in sight, no one except for him. Lord Carleton,” James spat the name with loathing. “When I confronted him, he, sneered at me, at first denying any knowledge of my sister. Then I saw Julianna’s cloak dropped in a heap by the stairs. It was torn as though in a struggle. Carleton- the cursed devil- just laughed in my face.
“He told me that he did now recall ‘entertaining’ my sister and could understand why his son Ewan found the pretty little whore so fascinating. I should have held my temper, should have found out exactly what he had done with Julianna, but something exploded inside me.” James clenched his fists. “I could have ripped him apart with my bare hands. I went for his throat, but he seized a pike from the wall and rushed me with it. I managed to deflect the tip and grappled with him, sending him flying back.”
Phaedra sat upon the very edge of her seat, gripping the arm rails while James paused to wipe at the perspiration beading his brow.
“Dear God, Phaedra, after all these years I am still not certain how it happened. That damned mace was set on the wall in those days. Perhaps when Carleton grabbed the pike, he somehow loosened the mountings. I only know that when he crashed back, the mace came down and ... He died almost instantly.”
Phaedra stirred uneasily. This was far different from any account of Carleton Grantham’s death she had ever heard before. With his uncanny perception, James sensed her feelings at once.
“Aye, you are right to look so doubting, my dear,” he said. “An accident so bizarre surpasses all belief. I realized that myself at once. But before I could react, your grandfather came upon the scene. He clubbed me over the head with his cane. Next morning, I awoke in Newgate. I tried to render my account of the death, but already it was too late. Ewan Grantham had sworn that he saw me murder his father in cold blood.”
Phaedra had dreaded to hear that it was her grandfather who had borne witness against James. Greatly astonished to hear that it had been Ewan, she protested, “But you said that Ewan was not even there. Why would he tell such lies?”
James raked his fingers through his dark hair, the gesture rife with frustration and helplessness. “To this day, I don’t know. Maybe he believed that I had killed his father and would come after him if given a chance. I probably would have, for at that point Julianna’s shoes had been found by the river and everyone was saying she had drowned herself. But Ewan seemed so frightened that I wondered if he had learned more about her death than he was telling.”
James’s shoulders sagged, a weary sigh escaping him. “Of course, no one believed my version of the event. Not even Dr. Glencoe, not even my own mother. My temper was legend, my account of the accident far too strange. Just as you don’t believe me now.”
Phaedra ached to assure him that she did, but the words that escaped her lips sounded faint even to her own ears. He looked quickly away from her.
“To make a tedious story short,” he continued dully, “I was convicted of murder and hanged. And that is probably thestrangest part of my whole tale. You see, I had never been to a hanging. It was not a diversion my father ever felt suited for his family. If I had been a little more experienced in such matters I might not be here now.”
When Phaedra shot him a look of bewilderment, he explained, “If you want your neck to snap quickly, you have to take a small leap into the air as the flooring drops away. Otherwise you might just ... dangle.”
James’s hand moved involuntarily to his collar. “The rope tightened, digging into my flesh, pressing on my throat, cutting off my air.” His eyes glazed with the memory. Phaedra clutched her hands in her lap to still their trembling. She was so caught up in the pain and horror of what he described, it was as though she could feel the rope constricting about her own neck, tearing at her own life. She doubted James realized that his own breath now came faster, and his fingers unconsciously yanked at his cravat, ripping it away from his neck.
