Part 7 (1/2)
So you see, Mother, you'll have to move in for the season while Alexandria is here.”
Meade wrote what his mother said and pa.s.sed the speaking book over. Thank G.o.d Meade was back. Gabriel had hardly been able to function inside his own household without him.
I cannot possibly stay the entire season. I have my own social activities and won't be tied down to an unprincipled debutant for the season. I'm sorry, Gabriel. It's quite impossible. Perhaps one of your sisters can come. Or . . . you could always hire her a companion. The girl has caused so much trouble already. It will be a struggle to like her at all.
Gabriel ground his teeth. ”Very well, I'll ask Jane.”
Jane was the only sister without children, and, therefore, had more than enough time on her hands. Plus, she was closer in age to Alexandria and would get on well with her. He should have thought of it before. ”Meade, send a note off to her. I would like to get this settled sooner rather than later.”
Meade nodded and scurried off to obey.
After his mother left, Gabriel paced about the drawing room like a caged panther. Would the king's men really find her in Iceland? Knowing her luck and the way people rallied around her and her cause, it wouldn't surprise him if she remained hidden from them. Within a month, the regent had said. Gabriel doubted he would see her within two.
And what was he to do in the meantime? This sitting and stewing was stretching his nerves to the snapping point. He needed to do something. He'd thrown himself back into his regular activities, but even the hard physical labor of sword fighting hadn't lessened this constant pressure that made him feel like he was teetering on insanity.
In desperation, he knelt beside an elegant damask-covered chair and laid his forehead against the embroidered cus.h.i.+on. Dear G.o.d, I am trying to do as Alexandria bade and look to You, but it only feels terrible. There is no relief from this pressure bearing down upon my soul. If only I could escape into the opera. The powerful notes of a musical score. Anything. I am cracking from the inside out and You don't seem to be anywhere around. Help me!
He actually broke into a sweat. Even though it was the dead of winter and there was a lively fire to try and take the chill from the far corners of the enormous room, he shook with an awareness of hot and cold. Why was it costing so much of him regarding Alexandria?
A sudden thought that he was shouldering her trouble, protecting her somehow even though he wasn't anywhere near her, made him sit back on his heels and rub the bridge of his nose. He stood, went over to a bookshelf, and took down one of the many copies of the Bible in the house.
Turning to Deuteronomy, he paged through it until he found the verse. There. ”Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy G.o.d, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.” What if he was supposed to pray this for Alexandria? What if this pressure was to goad him into an intercessor's prayer for her?
He immediately bowed his head and prayed the verse. As he said it under his breath, he had the distinct impression that he should sing it.
Sing it? He'd never been a very good singer when he could hear. What would he sound like now?
The pressure increased as he considered all the risks. What if someone heard him? He would sound ridiculous. What if G.o.d was asking him to do this and he disobeyed? Would it have any impact on Alexandria whether he sang or just recited the verse? Was he losing his mind?
The pressure increased as he pondered the idea until his chest felt leaden. With a deep breath he closed his eyes and very quietly sang the words. ”Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy G.o.d, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.”
A little chuckle came from his chest. It did feel good to sing it, better than good. He sang it again, a bit louder. ”Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy G.o.d, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.” This time the words behind his closed eyelids turned to color. He saw the letters and the notes of the music with colors combining the two in an oddly jubilant musical score.
He sang it again and again, louder and louder, no longer caring who heard or what they might think. He opened his eyes and sang-the blues and silver, purples and gold, reds and yellows and orange, dancing about the room in front of and around him. An unimaginable joy filled him and the belief, so strong and sure in his heart now, that G.o.d was with Alexandria, His love that Alexandria spoke so pa.s.sionately about upholding her and guiding her-it all overwhelmed Gabriel.
He stopped, fell back on the settee, and closed his eyes, a peaceful exhaustion coming over him. And he suddenly saw that what used to cure his ennui, the opera, was just a shadow of what G.o.d could do inside him if he trusted enough and took a leap in faith like he just had. Walking with G.o.d could be far more exciting and fulfilling-abundant life-than trying to take care of his own needs with earthly means as he had always done. And helping Alexandria didn't necessarily mean he would be by her side, though he still longed for that. It might mean prayer and singing and things he had yet to imagine.
G.o.d's ways and thoughts were so much higher than man's ways and thoughts that he couldn't begin to fathom Him. Walking with G.o.d meant just that-leaning on Him in every way, every minute of the day. He hadn't been doing that at all, though he prayed more. He'd still been leaning on his own understanding.
G.o.d, forgive me. I've been so shortsighted. I want to walk with You like that. Help me to know how.
He looked around, sensing a commotion, to find his mother bursting in the room. Her eyes were wide with shock and tears stood out on her cheeks. Jane came in after her, more tears, more shock.
Jane ran to Gabriel and threw herself into his arms. Her body shook as she soaked his s.h.i.+rt in tears. Meade came in just behind them.
”What has happened?” he asked Meade, who also looked as if someone had pummeled all the air out of him.
He mouthed the words Gabriel could feel Jane was saying against his chest, ”Lord Rutherford is dead, Your Grace.” Meade's lips trembled as he said it, so he clamped them together in a quivering line.
”Oh, Jane.” Gabriel gathered his youngest sister tighter in his arms. He looked at his mother, sitting stiffly now on the settee staring off into s.p.a.ce and holding her wrinkled hand against her mouth. He turned back to Meade. ”How did it happen?”
”Horse.” Meade made a motion of sitting a horse, something Gabriel and he had done a lot of over the last months.
”Was he racing?”
Jane leaned back and shook her head. ”Jumping.”
”Hunting accident,” Meade added.
Gabriel pieced it together in his mind. His brother-in-law, Matthew Rutherford, who had been as kind and loving a husband for Jane as any he could ask for, had gone hunting, jumped a wall or something, and been thrown. Matthew was a good horseman, so it must have been just bad luck-a senseless tragedy. G.o.d, why do You let these things happen? To Jane? It's so unfair.
He was too confused to even continue the line of thought. Taking Jane's hand he led her over to the settee, sat her next to their mother, and handed her a snowy handkerchief. She dabbed at her plump cheeks whose dimples when she smiled were such an endearing quality. They wouldn't be seeing those for a very long time.
Blasted senseless tragedy. He wanted to fall on his face and beg G.o.d's help, but that would have to wait for later. If he flung himself on the floor and cried out like he wanted to do, his mother would think he'd gone mad. Instead, he rang for his butler with whispered directions to call in the doctor. Dr. Bentley would know the best thing for Jane right now.
Gabriel sat across from the women, leaning toward them with elbows braced on his knees. ”I can't begin to express my sadness for you, Jane. For all of us. Matthew was the best of men. I can't believe he's gone.”
Jane spoke and Meade hurried to the desk to write down what she said. They've brought his body to the house. I don't know what to do with it. What do I do next?
His mother answered before Gabriel could, and he supposed she was giving Jane directions as to the funeral arrangements; it was what she would do in this case. But Jane needn't worry about all that. ”Meade and I will take care of everything, Jane. You must stay here where we can care for you. I'll have some footmen go to your house and pack up your things. Does that sound all right?”
She sniffed and nodded, looking at Meade with tear-filled eyes of grat.i.tude. ”Thank you, Mr. Meade. You have been so kind . . .”
”I've called for Dr. Bentley to come and call on her,” Gabriel said to Meade. Their family doctor was almost exclusively theirs. He had known Matthew well and would be as devastated as the rest of them. ”Alert the rest of the family to come. We must surround Jane with our support.”
It was only two weeks until Christmas with all the family celebrations and events. Now he wasn't sure they would have a Christmas this year. Perhaps something small, for the children.
If only Jane had some children. The thought came from seemingly nowhere, making a terrible event deepen in despair. He banished the thought.
Jane leaned back against the sofa cus.h.i.+on and closed her eyes. Silent tears continued to trickle down her cheeks, but her breathing had evened out and she looked a little more in control of her emotions. His mother rose, her face looking to have aged a decade in the last few minutes.
”I will call on you all tomorrow. I feel the need to lie down now.”
”Are you all right, Mother?” The strain on her was unmistakable.
She nodded and waved him away, but Gabriel didn't feel much better. She was more fragile than usual. He must treat her better, he realized, spend more time with her. Life was a fragile thing indeed.
”A LETTER, YOUR GRACE.”
Meade walked into his study a week later, waving a piece of paper, the first note of happiness since Matthew's death lighting his eyes.
Gabriel's heart leapt. Could it possibly be? A letter from Alexandria?
Meade pa.s.sed it over the desk and settled himself across from Gabriel, looking as if he fully antic.i.p.ated reading it himself. Gabriel was too excited to dissuade him. He lifted the cream-colored paper, smudged on the outside, and looked at the address. The moment he saw the elegant scrawl of that familiar handwriting he knew. It was from her. The Icelandic postmark made it certain.
He carefully pried up the wax seal with the Featherstone coat of arms and turned away from Meade. ”A moment, Meade, and then I promise I will tell you everything.”