Chapter 12 #2
Her spirits sank. Even after everything they had shared, after her agreement to marry him, he was still determined to keep her at arm’s length.
She found herself recalling Mr. Tyne’s advice about patience, about the need to coax Gabriel out of his deep privacy.
Clearly, it would take more time than she had hoped.
“Would you join me in the study?” Gabriel asked, apparently oblivious to her disappointment. “I have something to show you regarding the sketch you were carrying.”
Henri’s curiosity overcame her frustration, and she followed him to the small room he had been using as an office. The desk was blanketed with papers covered in his neat handwriting, and she could see the sketch laid out alongside copious notes.
“I have decided to tell you about my mission,” Henri said, settling into the chair across from his desk.
If he would not volunteer information about himself, perhaps sharing her own secrets would encourage reciprocity.
“I was at Danbury’s on behalf of Signor Lorenzo di Bianchi, an art historian who has been researching Arthurian legends.
We believed the Malory manuscript might contain clues to his ancestor who went missing here in England. ”
Gabriel nodded slowly. “And the sketch?”
“It was hidden in a family painting. Signor di Bianchi suspected it was a map of some kind, but neither of us could decipher it.”
Gabriel’s expression grew animated as he turned the sketch toward her. “Indeed I have. Look here, these letters and numbers below the drawing. I used the manuscript text to decipher them, and they all point to one location.”
Henri leaned forward eagerly to study the markings he indicated. “You managed to break the code?”
“The manuscript provided the key,” Gabriel explained, gesturing to his pages of notes. “Once I understood the pattern, the letters and numbers revealed a clear reference.”
The sketch showed a veiled knight with a sword in his hand, standing before a pillared arch that was shrouded in swirling smoke. At the knight’s feet, a serpent coiled around what appeared to be fragments of a shattered crown.
“The imagery follows classic Arthurian symbolism,” Gabriel explained, pointing to the various elements.
“The knight represents the quest for truth. His face is hidden because the seeker must prove worthy before the revelation. The serpent coiled at his feet signifies treachery and betrayal. The forces that brought down Arthur’s kingdom. ”
Henri studied the dark fragments strewn around the serpent. “And the shattered crown?”
“Arthur’s broken realm,” Gabriel replied solemnly. “In the legends, Arthur’s crown was shattered when Camelot was destroyed. The fragments represent the lost kingdom. Dispersed and hidden, waiting to be restored when the rightful heir returns.”
Then he pointed to the code written beneath the drawing.
“These letters and numbers. See here, K-12-7, and here, R-15-3, and scattered throughout are more sequences like G-8-11 and S-4-9.”
Gabriel opened the Malory manuscript to demonstrate his method. “The letters and numbers correspond to specific words in Malory’s text,” he explained, his finger moving between the sketch and the manuscript pages. “Each coded sequence tells you exactly which word to extract.”
He showed Henri his method. “The Winchester copy is not set out in numbered chapters. Each new passage begins with a large titled line. Here the code uses the first letter of that heading. K marks a passage that begins ‘King Arthur,’ and R marks one that begins ‘Round Table.’ So K-12-7 means the twelfth such passage, seventh word. R-15-3 is the fifteenth ‘Round Table’ passage, third word. If we gather each word in the order set out on the sketch, the hidden message appears.”
Henri watched as Gabriel demonstrated, finding each word in the manuscript according to the cipher.
“The brilliance is in its simplicity. Anyone with access to this specific manuscript can solve it, but without the key text, the numbers are meaningless.”
“You are brilliant.”
His cheeks reddened, the only indication he had heard her, as he continued. “When I extracted each word according to the cipher, they formed this clear directive.” He showed Henri the phrase he had assembled.
She squinted at his sprawling handwriting, reading it out loud. “Where armies fell and smoke rose, truth lies in ash and stone. Seek the chapel that never was.”
Gabriel gestured toward the sketch. “At first, I thought the curl of smoke a fanciful embellishment. But look closely. The line rises in a long, even sweep, narrowing to a fine point, just like the solitary hill of Roseberry Topping. Even the shading suggests the soft wreath of morning mist that clings to its slopes, giving it the look of a pale crown adrift in the clouds. And here, the stones set in this pattern. Not random, but radiating outward like the petals of a rose.” Gabriel’s eyes lit up as he explained the final connection.
“The artist is not merely drawing. He is enciphering. Stones for the rose, the smoke for the hill. I was stationed near there once. It rises alone above the plain, unmistakable against the sky. The villagers call it the Rose of Smoke for the way the mist enfolds it at dawn. My tutor spoke of it with reverence and claimed Arthur fought battles in its shadow. I dismissed it as another fireside tale until now. This sketch is no coincidence. It directs us to a particular ruin, what the clue names ‘the chapel that never was.’”
Henri wondered about the tutor. His tone made her think that the man was no longer part of this mortal coil, but she did not know what to say. How to ask. Gabriel was so private about his thoughts.
He looked up at her with obvious satisfaction.
“There are ancient ruins near Roseberry Topping, believed by some to have once been a chapel where Arthur’s sword was blessed.
But according to the deciphered message, there is something more.
A chapel that perhaps contains the next piece of the puzzle. ”
Henri stared at the elegant cipher work spread before them, amazed by the complexity hidden within what had appeared to be a simple medieval drawing.
Gabriel’s analytical skills had transformed seemingly random symbolic elements into a precise map, revealing layers of meaning that connected Renaissance artistry to ancient Arthurian legend.
“This is incredible.”
Gabriel nodded. “After we are wed, we shall return to England and investigate properly.”
Henri felt emboldened by his enthusiasm to press for more information. “Gabriel, what were you doing at Danbury’s that morning? What is your interest in the Malory manuscript?”
But immediately, she watched his expression grow guarded again.
“I am helping you assist Signor di Bianchi,” he responded carefully. “Is that not sufficient?”
The disappointment was immediate. Here she had taken such a tremendous leap of faith, agreeing to marry a man she barely knew, and he still would not trust her with even the most basic information about his behavior.
She would have to endeavor to be patient, but it was not a trait she was known for.
“Of course,” Henri said quietly, though her tone undoubtedly betrayed her feelings.
Gabriel must have sensed her resentment but made no move to address it directly.
Instead, he changed the subject with characteristic efficiency.
“I have taken the liberty of arranging for a letter to be delivered to your family on Wednesday evening, informing them of our arrival some time on Thursday.”
Henri stared at him. “You have already arranged this? Without consulting me about what the letter should say?”
“I thought it best to handle the matter promptly,” Gabriel replied, his tone suggesting he saw nothing amiss with his autocratic decision. “Your mother and great-uncle will need time to adjust to the news.”
The casual way he had made such personal decisions on her behalf was both dismaying and illuminating. This was apparently how Gabriel approached all matters. With careful planning and complete control, but without any thought to consulting those affected by his choices.
Henri was beginning to understand just how private and self-contained her future husband truly was.
The question that haunted her was whether she would ever be able to breach those carefully constructed walls, or whether she would spend her marriage forever on the outside, looking in.
She had no wish to be treated as … as … well, she did not wish to be treated as his private secretary!
No, she would not be relegated to the role that Mr. Tyne held. She would find a way to be Gabriel’s wife and partner as he had intimated. With time, he was going to learn that she would not be assigned to the role of subordinate.
Gabriel noticed the subtle shift in Henri’s demeanor immediately.
The way her shoulders tensed slightly when he mentioned the letter to her family; the careful neutrality that crept into her expression when he evaded her questions.
She was withdrawing from him again, and the familiar panic began to claw at his chest.
He had shown her the deciphered sketch, shared his expertise, allowed her glimpses of his work.
Yet still she remained disappointed by him.
The fear that she might reconsider their arrangement, that she might find him wanting as a husband before they had even spoken their vows, made his chest tighten.
Gabriel rose from behind his desk, moving around to where she sat studying the papers. “Henri,” he said quietly, gruffer than he intended.
She looked up at him, those amber eyes angry and bright in a way that terrified him more than any armed opponent ever had.
Without allowing himself to think, Gabriel reached for her, drawing her up from the chair and into his arms. If words failed him, if he could not give her what it was she was seeking, perhaps he could remind her of the physical connection that blazed between them.
“Gabriel, what are you—” Henri began, but her protest was cut short as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was hungry, desperate, and utterly consuming.
Gabriel lifted her easily, settling her on the edge of his desk among the scattered papers.
His hands roamed over her curves with growing urgency, reacquainting himself with every line and hollow of her body.
When Henri responded with equal fervor, her fingers tugging at his shirt to run them up his bared skin, Gabriel felt some of the terrible tension in his chest begin to ease.
“I need you,” he murmured against her throat, the words escaping before he could stop them. “Henri, I need …”
But he could not finish the thought, could not reveal the depth of longing that threatened to overwhelm him.
Instead, he showed her with his hands and mouth, with the reverent way he worshipped her body through her clothes, grateful that women did not wear small pants as his hand slid up her leg to the juncture of her thighs where he discovered she was slick and ready for him, and then he was even more gratified when a guttural moan escaped her lips.
He continued to caress her folds, circling the pearl at the center of her pleasure.
Their joining was fierce and urgent, Henri clinging to his shoulders as Gabriel moved within her with increasing intensity.
The study chair creaked under their combined weight when he pulled her into his lap, her skirts bunched and billowing around them as she learned to move with him, to take her own pleasure as much as she gave it.
Gabriel was amazed anew by how completely Henri surrendered to the passion between them.
There was no artifice in her responses, no calculation in the way she cried out his name when he found that perfect rhythm that drove them both toward completion.
She was utterly genuine, utterly present, and the knowledge that she was his filled him with a fierce possessiveness.
When Henri collapsed against his chest, breathing hard, Gabriel held her close and marveled at the transformation her presence wrought in him.
With her in his arms, he felt substantial, real in a way he had never experienced before.
For so many years, he had felt like a ghost moving through life, observing from the edges, never quite connecting to the world around him.
But Henri anchored him, made him feel like a man with a beating heart rather than a hollow shell going through the motions of existence.
The loneliest recesses of his soul, places he had thought permanently sealed off from human connection, warmed in her presence. She reached parts of him that he had forgotten existed, brought light to corners of his soul that had been shrouded in darkness for decades.
But even as Gabriel savored this revelation, he knew he must guard it.
Such intense emotions, such reliance on another person’s presence, were precisely the kind of weakness that had cost him his grandfather’s acceptance all those years ago.
Henri deserved a husband who could provide for her and accompany her through society with strength and composure.
She did not need to be burdened with the knowledge of how completely she had captured his heart, how thoroughly she was becoming essential to his very sense of self.
Gabriel pressed his lips to Henri’s hair, breathing in her scent, and resolved to keep these harmful sentiments locked away.
He would adore her with his body, provide for her with his resources, and shield her from the world with his position.
But he would not overwhelm her with emotions that even he did not fully understand.
It was enough that she remained in his arms. It had to be enough.