Page 61 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
“I was not sure. I had just been thinking of you, so I wondered if my mind might be playing some tomfoolery on me,” she said, in a faraway voice.
Alicia frowned. “You were thinking of me?”
“Yes, I was. I have thought about you often in the years that have passed, though not nearly so much as I have this night.” The Duchess clasped a hand to her chest. “Was it you who told my son about this house? Was it you who told him of your mother’s identity?”
“He had a right to know,” Alicia shot back. To her surprise, the Duchess did not seem enraged. Instead, she looked almost relieved.
“You are quite right, Miss Price. He did deserve to know. And you deserved better than the life you have been made to lead, because of me.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I ought to have been kinder. You are my niece, and I should have treated you as such. I have been so consumed by bitterness, for so many years, that I could not see the harm I had caused.”
Alicia stood in silence, not knowing what to say.
“I have spoken with my son,” the Duchess continued. “I believe he has a desire to make reparations for the damage that I inflicted on your family, and though it has taken some thought, I have come to the same conclusion.”
“Reparations?” Tom stepped in, using his voice where Alicia could not.
“I cannot give back what I had my husband take, but I, along with my son, can ensure that your father receives the full sum of what was owed.” The Duchess offered a nervous smile. “And more, to recompense you for the years you have spent in destitution.”
Alicia jolted herself out of her stunned reverie. “We can discuss that later. At this present moment, it’s imperative that we find both of your sons immediately.”
“My sons?” The Duchess furrowed her brow. “Why do you need to find them?”
Alicia and Tom exchanged a glance. “We believe they may be in some danger, Your Grace,” Tom answered. “A threat has been made, and we would have them both informed, so that they can decide what to do about the matter.”
The Duchess clutched at her throat. “A threat? What sort of threat?”
“It is nothing you need concern yourself with. It can be remedied, but we must find His Grace and Lord Owen, this very instant,” Tom replied. Alicia admired his diplomacy, for if he had told her the stark truth—that her youngest son had attempted to take the life of her eldest—all chaos might have broken loose.
The Duchess eyed Tom. “Owen went to look over the fence in the far field, and Jacob went after him.”
“At this hour?” Tom rubbed his chin in anxious thought.
“That is what Jacob said.” The Duchess toyed with the necklace at her throat, twisting it.
“Stay within the house, Your Grace. If your sons are out there, we will seek to bring them back shortly,” Tom said, his calm voice hiding the tangible fear that bristled between him and Alicia.
“Is something the matter?” The Duchess stared in wide-eyed confusion.
Tom smiled politely. “Nothing that cannot be resolved, Your Grace. Please, do stay within the house, and I will call upon you, with your sons, when we return.”
Tom turned and Alicia followed, the two of them keeping to a slow, even pace until they reached a crossroads of corridors. Choosing the one that would more quickly lead them outside, they broke into a sprint, running as though their lives depended on it. Even in her frailty, she would race to Jacob until her legs gave out. For it was not her life that depended on this… it was his.
Chapter 41
Jacob staggered across the uneven ground, the pool of lamplight swaying wildly ahead of him. It did not do much to help him see in the darkness, but the moonlight helped somewhat, highlighting the edges of the terrain with silver.
He did not know how his brother had managed to come this way without some light to see by, but he could not see the telltale glow of any lamp or lantern up ahead, and he knew he could not be far from the stone wall that he had so ignorantly insisted on being repaired. Still, he pressed on.
A short while later, he reached that selfsame stone wall and paused to catch his breath. He shone his lantern upon it and saw that he was in the exact spot where the gap had formerly been. Fresh stones stood out against the aged ones, wedged together in a feat of remarkable construction. The process of building dry stone walls would always amaze him. By rights, they should not have been able to stand, yet they stood through decade after decade, through sheer force of will and pressure.
Much like the old castle.He could not see the ruins from here. The decaying, collapsing corpse of that once mighty structure had always clung to his mind. In childhood, before he had been sent away, he remembered he and his brother playing amongst the broken walls and the remains of grand turrets, pretending they were ancient warriors, battling for the right to marry the fair maiden.
I suppose little has changed, aside from the maiden…He mustered a wry grin. His brother had been the weaker party back then, always defeated in their imaginary wars. Jacob could not count the number of times that someone had been sent by their mother to find them and urge them to cease their exploits for the sake of Owen’s health.
Jacob realized, standing there in the cold night breeze, with the bronze of his lamp fighting off the silvery glow of the moonlight, that he had missed so much of his brother’s life. No one had expected Owen to live very long, but he had defied all odds, and risen through the hardship of his feeble health to become a formidable man. Now, there was little about Owen that would have suggested he had ever been sickly.
A rustle nearby made Jacob’s head snap to the side. “Owen? Is that you?”
“Brother.” Owen stepped out of the darkness and into the lantern’s illumination. A streak of dirt marked his cheek like a scar, his hair ruffled by the unruly wind. But it was the wild-eyed stare, coming from Owen’s eyes, that left Jacob feeling slightly uneasy.
