Page 64 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
“Yes, Sir.” Tom shot a grim glance at Alicia, before he disappeared into the darkness.
Alicia watched Jacob and his brother. She already knew that there would be little point in fetching the physician, for Lord Owen would surely be dead by the time help came. Truthfully, she did not quite understand Jacob’s desire to save him, for Lord Owen would not have spared him the same consideration, had he managed to fire his own musket.
It is the same as Da and I,she realized. Her father had behaved atrociously toward her, for much of her life, but it had not changed the love she carried for him in her heart. It must have been a similar emotion for Jacob. Lord Owen had wanted him dead, and had forged a plot with the Ribbonmen, but he would always be Jacob’s little brother. That sort of bond did not simply disappear, just because one person had taken a dark path in life.
“Stay with me, Owen,” Jacob pleaded. “The physician is coming. Just stay with me.”
“Why?” Lord Owen croaked.
“Because you are my brother,” he answered.
Lord Owen coughed, adding to the trickle of blood that meandered down his chin and to the ground. “I wanted… you dead.”
“That does not mean I wantedyoudead.” Jacob held him closer, breaking Alicia’s heart. He sounded so sad and vulnerable.
“Looks like… you get… to keep your… title, after… all.” Lord Owen mustered a smile, though his eyes were unfocused.
“Damn the title!” Jacob muttered. “There is more to life than lands and titles, Owen. Why could you not have seen that? Why could you not have been satisfied?”
Lord Owen winced, his eyes squeezing shut. “I… wanted more.”
“Oh Owen.” Jacob clutched him desperately. “Just hold on.”
“I… do not… feel so… well.” Lord Owen gripped his brother back, coughing violently into Jacob’s shirt. “I am… cold.”
Alicia took her shawl from around her shoulders and placed it around Lord Owen. She knew death. Death was as an old friend to her. Through many a winter, she had been certain that it would come for her, though it had always changed its mind. Still, she had witnessed enough suffering in the village to know when death was near. It had a scent and a sensation—a prickle on the back of the neck, and a faint hint of metal and firewood and lavender. In that moment, she felt the telltale prickle and smelled that faint aroma on the air.
“Will… you tell… Mother?” Lord Owen rasped.
Jacob shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“That is… good. I do not… want her thinking… ill of me.”
“Owen, why did you have to do this? Why did you have to be so foolish?” Jacob buried his face in his brother’s shoulder.
“I am… sorry, Brother.” Lord Owen rattled out a cough.
“Save your apologies for later, when you are recovered,” Jacob murmured.
Oh Jacob…Alicia could hardly bring herself to look. It was much too sad. He had to know that his brother would not survive this. He had to know that death was on its way.
“I do not… think I am… going to survive… this,” Lord Owen replied.
“Of course you are,” Jacob told him. As he rocked his brother in his arms, Alicia noticed that Lord Owen’s arms had gone limp. They dragged back to his sides, with no life spurring them into movement any longer.
She reached out and touched Jacob on the back of the neck. “He has gone, Jacob.”
He peered up at her through tearful eyes. “No. No, he has not. He will rally.”
“He has gone, Jacob,” she repeated, rubbing the nape of his neck tenderly.
Jacob pulled away from his brother slightly. Sure enough, Lord Owen’s eyes stared upward in a vacant gaze. A small hint of a smile turned up the corners of his lips, and somehow, he looked as though he were at peace.
Tugging his sleeve down over his hand, Jacob wiped the blood away from Lord Owen’s mouth and leaned down to kiss his brother on the forehead. A moment later, he collapsed in a fit of sobs, hugging his brother with an intense grief that made Alicia feel as though she were looking in on something so very private.
“You must not blame Tom, Jacob,” she said quietly, still rubbing the back of his neck.
“I do not blame Tom,” Jacob wept. “I blame myself.”
