Chapter 26 #2
She pressed both hands against her chest as she looked skyward. The envelope had fully collapsed, sagging among the treetops and blocking out the afternoon light. The gondola was hanging in a space between two mature oaks, almost like a child’s swing.
Speechless, she watched as Montgomery climbed out of the gondola, grabbed one thick branch with both arms, and began to descend the tree.
“Praise be,” Elspeth said from beside her.
Relief began to heat the ball of ice in Veronica’s stomach.
The crowd greeted Montgomery like a hero. Tom clapped him on the back. Ralston did the same, then surreptitiously wiped his eyes. Most of the maids fell behind Mrs. Brody, even Millicent, adding their words of relief.
He was one of them, their laird, their Lord Fairfax.
Montgomery glanced in her direction, made his way through the grove of trees, accepting the words of those who pressed close.
He reached her, stood in front of her, bits of leaves still clinging to his hair. She wanted to reach forward and brush them loose, but she’d lost the power to move.
They stood looking at each other, only an arm’s length separating them. The distance might as well have been miles.
The breeze blew around them, tousled his hair, and swept one leaf off his shoulder. The crowd around them grew silent, no doubt interested in their conversation.
Or their lack of it.
He didn’t say anything, but neither did she. Moments ticked by like sluggish snails. The sun beat down on her head since she’d dispensed with a bonnet. She smoothed her hair back from her forehead, looked away, then back at him.
“Where were you?”
“Where was I?”
“Yes, madam, where were you?”
She hadn’t raced toward him; she hadn’t rushed into his arms. She hadn’t laughed with delight at his safety. She hadn’t screamed his name. Instead, she’d stood on the fringes of the crowd, calm and unaffected.
She had nothing to say, no explanation to offer him even as he waited.
Abruptly and insanely, he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to wipe that half smile off her face, bring misery into her eyes. He wanted her to feel the depth of betrayal he felt at this moment.
“Should I apologize for surviving?”
She blinked at him. Just that and no other reaction. As if she were so cold that the heat of his anger could not melt her.
She was hot enough in passion. Was that the only way to reach her? Had he been a fool to think that she might have cared for him?
He was an idiot to have felt so vulnerable around her, to have confided in her. He was an idiot to think that passion could lead to something greater, something more.
They were no better than rutting animals. He’d be her stag, her stallion, her boar, taking her when he wanted. But he’d be nothing else. Not companion or confidant or love.
He glanced at Elspeth, an unspoken request. The maid nodded and slipped away.
“Very well, Veronica. We’ll use each other and fuck each other. But I’ll be damned if I ever tell you another secret, and I sure as hell won’t ever trust you again.”
Veronica took a step back, her fingers resting at the base of her throat. He wasn’t going to let her escape. He stepped forward, leaning close so only she could hear his words.
“I could almost believe that you had something to do with my crash. Do you want to remain in Scotland so much you’d make yourself a widow?”
“You think I had something to do with your accident?” she asked.
“Was it an accident?” he asked, his voice cold. “You were in the old distillery last night. What were you doing there?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” she said. “I told you that.”
“Did you touch anything?”
She shook her head.
He studied her for a few moments, wishing she’d say something, hoping she’d offer up a word, an explanation, an excuse. When she remained silent, he turned and walked away, motioning for several of the men to follow him.
She had the time to comfort a maid, but she’d no time for him.
Rage had rolled off him with such force that she felt it physically. He wasn’t angry at his airship, or the trees, or whatever had caused his crash. Instead, he’d focused all his rage on her, as if she were responsible for what had happened to him. As if he wanted her to be responsible.
When had he ever trusted her?
She felt oddly heavy, as if she weighed twice what she had that morning. Her movements were slower, as if she’d also aged since then.
She tried to take a deep breath, but it felt as if her chest were constricted or the air too thick to draw into her lungs.
Her hand rested at her throat, fingers playing with the cameo she’d pinned there this morning. She knew the face carved on the surface by touch. Could imagine even the cameo turning to stare at him incredulously.
She felt a tear spill over and trail down her cheek, but she didn’t move to brush it away. Instead, she turned and began to walk back to Doncaster Hall, Elspeth falling into place beside her. The distance back to the house seemed immeasurable, the path littered with broken glass.
Every inhabitant of Doncaster Hall looked at her with shock in their eyes. Everyone but Elspeth, who didn’t speak, merely glared at them.
Veronica’s hands tightened into fists. She released them with some effort, straightening her fingers. Take a deep breath. Wipe away your tears. Go home.
Doncaster Hall was suddenly not home. She had no home. Not one anchor existed. No bulwark. No lodestone. She was as alone as she’d ever been.
She wanted to be gone from there so desperately, she began to think of all the people in the world who might take her in, offer her sanctuary.
She had no place to go.
Norma had a more hopeful future, for all she was expecting a child out of wedlock.
She might be shunned by her relatives, cast aside by her friends, and made the subject of a moral lesson in Kirk.
In a few years, people would forgive or forget.
She’d have her child and a future substantially brighter than Veronica’s.
How could Montgomery think she would harm him?
The crowd that had been so effusive in their relief fell silent as she moved through them. Elspeth was the only one who accompanied her. Elspeth, who would be, she suspected, loyal despite any circumstance.
“Tell me about the Tullochs,” she said.
Elspeth glanced over at her, a look of concern still on her face. “What would you like to know, Your Ladyship?”
“You’re certain your grandmother would know the origins of the mirror?”
“If it’s the same, Lady Fairfax. It doesn’t look like it did when I was a child, but the diamonds might be new.”
“How far away is Kilmarin?”
“By train? A half day, perhaps.” Elspeth looked at her curiously. “Have you a mind to go there, Your Ladyship?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing back toward the grove of trees. “We’ll leave this afternoon.”
“We will?”
She turned to look at her maid, forcing a smile she didn’t feel to her face. “Didn’t you say you had family nearby?”
Elspeth’s look of confusion turned to joy. “There would be time to visit with my family?”
She nodded.
Elspeth looked as if she might begin dancing.
At least someone was happy.