Page 74 of The Earl Takes All
“We won’t. I won’t allow it. Neither will I allow you to die.”
He could not help but give his lips an ironic twist. “My words.”
“Your words. Now don’t make me a liar.”
She wasn’t going to leave. He cursed the weakest part of himself that was glad, that wanted the last thing he saw to be her face, the last thing he heard to be her voice, the last thing he knew to be her touch.
Today we saw a magnificent waterfall. The thunder of the water crashing down was remarkable. We were standing at the edge of a cliff, just watching its incredible power, when Edward suddenly said, “Wouldn’t Julia love that? Wouldn’t you like to share such beauty with her?”
I could not help but think that he’d left unsaid that it would pale beside you.
While I miss you terribly, I have enjoyed this journey and have no regrets that I decided to take it. You were correct. Once our child is born, I would never discard my responsibilities for something as selfish as this, and yet it is an experience I will look back on with great fondness.
It’s the oddest thing, Julia, but every night we speak of you. At first, I shared some of my favorite memories of you because I thought if Edward could see you as I do, then he would care for you just as much.
Yet as we sit by the campfire talking late into the night, if I don’t mention you, at some point he does.
Looking up from the journal entry she’d been reading aloud, Julia studied the man lying so motionless on the bed. She’d forced him to eat ice chips and broth. The hot toddy he’d taken without complaint. No surprise there. But he seemed to grow weaker with each passing hour.
Beyond the windows day fell to night, dawn emerged, night returned. Occasionally she napped for a few minutes in the chair. She opened a window to bring in some fresh air—how could the staleness of the room be healthy? Sometimes she stood there inhaling deeply, considering what she had learned of how he’d cared for Mrs.Lark and her son. The widow told her footman that Edward had made them drink until she thought they’d drown. Purchased oranges for them to eat. Boiled up a soup with chicken and assorted vegetables. She couldn’t help but wonder how much he might have learned during all his travels, what he might have done for himself in order to survive. He would survive this.
Sometimes he was awake while she read, but mostly he slept. She’d arrived at the very last entry in the journal, the final night when Albert had dipped pen into inkwell and scratched his thoughts over the parchment. She couldn’t read these words aloud. She needed some that were for her and her alone, and she couldn’t help but believe that he’d written these only for her.
I’m beginning to suspect that he doesn’t dislike you at all. But I have yet to determine why he makes such a grand show of pretending to do so.
I have to admit to being rather relieved by the discovery. I’ve put off drawing up a will, as I was concerned he might not see after your care as well as I might. I knew he would take offense if I did not name him guardian of my heir, and yet based on his reckless behavior the past few years how could I place those I love in his keeping?
I’d considered Ashe, but while he is a brother of my heart he is not of my blood. He would take on the burden I hoisted upon him without complaint. My father passed our care on to a friend, who did not do poorly by us, and yet I forever longed for Evermore.
I did not wish that for my child or for you. But for you, I want more than a roof and food and clothing. I want you to have happiness.
I feared under Edward’s care, you would find naught but misery.
But now I am of the belief that I could leave you in no better hands.
She traced her fingers over the final words. Had he truly known that he would not return to her? Or had he merely been speaking in generalities?
Even knowing nothing had been written on the next page, she turned to it. The sadness that engulfed her was nearly overwhelming. She wanted more words, more insight, more absolution that he would not find fault with her for having these confusing feelings toward his brother.
I could leave you in no better hands.
She read permission in those words. In his entire journal she had read love. He had loved her just as she’d loved him. Had wanted her happiness. To find it without him seemed at once impossible and a betrayal. Yet it was almost as though he expected it, was encouraging her to be happy, to find love again, to move on. He knew what she was just discovering: She had to do as he wanted if she were to be the best possible mother to Alberta.
Setting the journal aside, she closed her hands around the linen resting in a bowl of water on the bedside table, wrung it out and began to wipe it over Edward’s brow, neck, and shoulders. He went so still, so quiet, his breathing so shallow as to be nonexistent. His skin was so hot to the touch that it was nearly frightening. Leaning in close, she whispered, “Fight for me, Edward. Albert would want you to. Would insist on it, in fact. And fight for Allie. She needs to know how the story ends.”
His eyes slowly fluttered open. “Top right drawer of my desk. The story is there, written out, waiting for her.”
Would he forever make her think that he couldn’t hear what she was saying? “You went so still that you gave me a fright.”
He smiled slightly. “I know you want to know how it ends as well. I could see the edge of your skirt from where I sat in the rocker in the nursery.”
So she’d been caught, had she? She angled her chin. “Could have been a servant’s.”
“Why didn’t you come in?”
Averting her eyes from his, she pressed the cloth to his neck. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing I was interested in your silly story.”
“They were all for you, you know. All the stories I told in your parlor.”
