Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he library was modest, with two bookcases which reached from floor to ceiling. A chaise and armchairs were arranged around a stone fireplace in which a fire crackled. A large red and gold rug covered a varnished floor. The room's fragrance was of hardwood and polish, old paper and book bindings. Ester's mother and sister sat on the chaise. Napier occupied an armchair and seemed to be speaking of architecture. Lady Janet looked politely interested, while Helen, utterly bored, jumped to her feet in excitement at Julian and Ester's entrance. Napier stood, a polite and patient look on his face.

"Mr. Napier was acquainting us with his expertise in architecture. It seems he is a man of parts, letters, and building," Lady Janet recounted, though she shrewdly asked a question of Julian and Ester with her eyes, glancing from them to Napier.

"How interesting," Julian muttered, "why, we have just become acquainted with him ourselves."

"Mr. Napier came out to Loughton Grange in search of Julian," Ester put in, as she took a seat beside Julian.

"That must be very flattering, Your Grace," Lady Janet beamed.

"Whatever for, Mr. Napier. Oh! Not that you aren't very interesting, Your Grace," said Helen quickly, "but why him in particular?"

"Ah, I must confess, I have a certain proclivity toward learning of the old stories of England's oldest families. And the Barringtons of Windermere are among England's ancient and most storied," Napier finished as he dropped to his seat, slapping his hands on his knees.

"And is it for publication in a book? A history of English nobility?" Helen asked.

"More a series of articles for… my employer, the London Times," Napier clarified in an evasive manner. "I should have liked for the work to be purely academic, but, alas, commercial imperatives prevail. The public buy stories of the great and good when they include the sensational."

" Sensational ? And what is sensational about His Grace?" Lady Janet asked.

"Garish legends concerning my family, I'm afraid," Julian muttered, watching Napier with hard eyes.

"Legends, Your Grace? Would you say so?" Napier asked innocently.

"I would ," Julian stated, his voice low and flat. "My father was a scholar, misguided but a scholar, nonetheless. He had many erroneous views of the world which are at odds with our rational modern views."

"Hmm. It is said that he was a warlock, head of a coven, and a devil worshiper," Napier replied, ever unfazed.

Julian shot to his feet. "Have a care, sir! There are ladies present!"

Lady Janet went white. Helen sat wide-eyed, with a spark of curiosity. Ester looked to Julian, pale with eyes wide.

"I merely recount the stories circulating in the streets of Carlisle and the villages of the Lake District," Napier continued, his tone remaining calm. "Stories concerning your family, Your Grace. And they include tales of a wayward son—cast out by his father, they say—cursed and exiled."

In a heartbeat, Julian had Napier by the lapels, hauling him to his feet in one swift motion. "How dare you!" he roared, "you insult me and cast aspersions upon my name! Do you wish for me to demand satisfaction for your insult? I am prepared to do just that if you do not apologize and retract what you have just said."

Napier seemed unflappable, though his color had risen.

"I would advise against it, Your Grace," he said evenly. "I fought for our great country against the French. I am skilled with a blade and a crack shot."

Julian could see it in his eyes. Despite the provocation of being manhandled in public, Napier's eyes were hard, and his expression unruffled. This was a man accustomed to violence and unafraid of death.

"And I was raised never to use my hands as weapons," Julian ground out, tightening his grip on Napier's coat. His voice was low, dangerous . "You can imagine the skill I have acquired with the sword and gun instead. Care to put it to the test, good sir?"

Napier's lips quirked in the slightest hint of a smile, but before the moment could escalate further, Ester's voice cut through the tension, "What is it you truly want, Mr. Napier? Shall we discuss it in private? Just the three of us?"

"That is quite enough from you, Mr. Napier!" Lady Janet finally broke her silence in reproach. "And, Your Grace, I must say the same to you, I'm afraid."

"Mother!" Ester exclaimed.

"I will have my say in my own house, child," Lady Janet declared firmly, her posture as rigid as stone. "Now, for the allegations, I must discuss this with your father in private..."

"He is hardly in a condition to hear such wild accusations," Ester countered, her voice tight. "Not that there is any truth to them."

"Then there can be no harm in apprising him of the allegations that have been made against His Grace," Lady Janet stood, impermeable as alabaster.

"Mother, please," Ester implored.

Julian could see the fear in Ester's eyes now, and for the first time, realized what it was she was actually afraid of. He released his hold on Napier who stepped out of arm's reach, straightening his coat. A knock came at the door and it opened upon a curt acknowledgement from Julian.

Lady Janet spared him a frosty look. "Might I be allowed to issue the orders in my own house, Your Grace?"

Julian bowed his head to hide the chagrin on his face. He was angry at the interfering, mud-raking journalist, and at Lady Janet's knee-jerk reaction to it. It was the leap to judgment that had led to him rejecting society for so long—it was not just the curse that had kept him a hermit. He held his tongue as Harper entered, carrying a tray on which there was a decanter of brandy and two filled glasses.

"Ah! The very thing after all of this excitement!" Napier crowed and made for Harper.

As he reached for the first glass, Harper deftly turned the tray away from him, before catching a steely look from his master. Grimacing, he presented the tray back to the man. Napier frowned for a moment and then took the glass and tossed back a measure of brandy.

After an uncouth smack of the tongue, he added, "Excellent cellars you keep here, Lady Janet! My compliments to your husband."

With head raised and a perfunctory summons to her youngest daughter, Lady Janet left the room. Helen looked to Ester imploringly.

"You'd better go," Ester whispered.

Scowling, Helen left the room after her mother. Julian stared at Napier who stood swirling his remaining brandy insouciantly.

"Perhaps we may now discuss what it is you want from us, Mr. Napier?" Ester began.

Julian admired her self-control. Her face was a mask of civilized discipline. It somehow enhanced her beauty, making him feel a primitive brute for his earlier outburst. In that moment he felt a surge of love and pride for her. How much she had endured, including assault, humiliation, blackmail and imprisonment. Shame accompanied his recollection of that. He had inflicted that upon her because of his belief in the curse. The fictitious curse that was no less damaging for its mythical status.

"How much for your silence?" Julian cut to the chase.

Napier pressed a hand dramatically to his chest, exaggerating offense. "This is no crude attempt at blackmail, Your Grace!" he stated, sounding nearly hurt. "I have been very forthcoming about my objectives. I simply wish to tell your story, and I hope for your cooperation."

"So that you and your scandal sheet may profit from my tribulations?" Julian retorted.

" And uncover the truth. The true story of your family," Napier replied, a sly glimmer in his eye.

"And if we decline?" Ester asked.

Napier's smile remained. "Then I will tell your story without the truth as you see it. I will tell it based on what I have gathered from the gossip, the legends, and the second- or third-hand accounts. It shall all make for a compelling tale—of that, I assure you."

"More compelling than the truth?" Julian muttered. "That an innocent boy was the victim of an old man's madness?"

He clamped his mouth shut at the look of sudden interest in Napier's eyes. In his anger, he had said too much—given away too much. Napier knew there was a story here and would not stop digging until he had exhumed it in its entirety. Like a terrier searching out ferrets.

"His Grace has always lived a private life and wishes it to remain private. Surely that is his prerogative," Ester said, stepping in swiftly to contain the damage.

"As it is my prerogative to earn my living and express myself through the written word," Napier replied smoothly.

"I will speak directly to your employer," Julian cut in, "a peer of the realm should not be treated so."

Napier shrugged with infuriating calm. "The Times may bow to pressure if you are able to wield sufficient leverage. But there are many rags in London alone that would glory in the details of your life. I am confused. Why not have the best possible side presented to the public?"

Julian wanted to strike the man down. His hands clenched into fists. He had never wanted the curse to be real more than he did at that moment. He wanted to lay his hands on Napier and feel the darkness that his father had accused him of harboring flow into the blackguard. Napier nonchalantly finished the brandy and held out the empty tumbler. Harper stepped forward and took the glass, placing it on the tray, then offering the remaining glass to Julian, who took it.

He turned away and swallowed the rich ruby liquid in a savage movement, walking to the fireplace and gazing at the blackened wood and hungry flames. Just as he thought that happiness and contentment were within reach, a life of normalcy for the first time—it was snatched away.

"Well, in hindsight, perhaps this can work in our favor?" Ester said, brightly.

She appeared in Julian's eyeline, standing next to him but facing the room. Julian placed his empty tumbler on the mantle and looked sideways at her, eyes narrowed. She appeared resolute and confident, eyes cool and never leaving Napier's face.

"I would hope for nothing less," Napier replied coolly.

"A biography of a misunderstood man who has been the victim of superstition and ignorance," Ester suggested.

Julian bared his teeth with a wolfish smile. "I will not have my private life discussed in every gaming hell and coffee house," he snarled.

"Nor will it. If we tell the simple truth, then everyone will see how unremarkable and uneventful a life you have led and still do. No secrets and no scandals. The simple truth," Ester declared.

Julian's eyes widened as he caught her meaning. He suppressed a smile as he turned back to Napier. He carefully ensured his hostile expression remained unchanged. This… this could work if they played their cards right.

Napier was watching him but seemed paler than he had been a moment before. "So, you agree?" The man tried for a smile, "If so, I have an agreement to be signed..." he broke off to clear his throat, "...a contract to ensure..." again, he broke off, this time swallowing hard and raising a hand to his throat, "...that there is no..."

Abruptly, the man collapsed into a violent fit of coughs. His color returned with a vengeance, turning from deathly white to an unhealthy, strained purple.

"Mr. Napier? Are you quite well?" Ester asked, eyes widening in alarm.

Napier's response was to look up with bulging eyes and an expression of pure terror. His mouth was open and his tongue seemed to fill the space. He was choking and trying to speak. Ester rushed to his side, taking his arm and trying to guide him to the chaise longue. Harper was suddenly there, taking Napier's weight, having discarded the tray with a clatter of metal and the shattering of breaking glass. Napier was clearly having difficulty breathing now. Harper laid him on the chaise and began working to open the man's cravat.

"I—I served an apprenticeship with an apothecary in London and learned a little about the treatment of common injuries and ailments," he explained hastily, "when breathing is restricted, one must loosen the clothing," he finished urgently.

Ester looked to Julian who was standing frozen, staring at his hands in silent horror.

"No, Julian!" Ester cried as though reading his mind, "this is a horrible coincidence!"

Napier, meanwhile, was breathing his last. His body convulsed brutally and his lungs rattled in his chest.

Then he was still.

His eyes were open and staring, face contorted into a rictus of fear and pain.

Julian's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse with disbelief. "It… it happened again... just like with Samuel. After I touched him."

Ester rushed to his side, taking his hands in her own. Julian was too stunned to prevent her. She pressed them to the sides of her face immediately, holding them there.

"But I am still here! I have not died. There is no curse, believe me my love," Ester rushed to say beseechingly.

Julian's eyes widened, wild with fear and disbelief. "Can't you… can't you see it? The curse at work. It has happened right before your eyes. How can you deny it now?"

Harper glanced from one to the other, his confusion evident.

"I can deny it and I will, because it is superstitious nonsense!" Ester insisted, her voice steady, trying desperately to anchor him. "You must have touched many in the last four weeks. Why would it suddenly start up again?"

Julian smiled bitterly and pulled away from her. "I haven't. I have not touched a soul except Rufus."

She tried to cling on to his hands but he removed them from her grasp, thrusting them into the pockets of his coat. "Not superstition any longer, Ester," he murmured, his voice hollow.

"Then… then how do you explain me? I have been touched by your bare hands and I am still here?"

"Perhaps the curse has yet to work upon you?" Harper interjected, his voice hesitant. "Or perhaps… perhaps… those of pure heart possess greater resilience—"

"Be silent!" Julian roared.

It was an instinctive reaction to the interruption because Harper's words struck something deep within him. Could it be true? He thought of his brother, a good man but also an adventurer and, doubtless, a rogue. Ester, pure and innocent when she was touched, the darkness of the curse taking time to corrupt and overwhelm. Had there been others? He could not recall. Touches? Accidental brushes from an early age? Had those men and women, boys and girls, fallen ill? Would they in time? Would Rufus? Did the curse only work on beings possessed of an immortal soul?

Julian's face twisted in grief as the realization settled over him like a suffocating shroud. "I should… I should leave immediately," he choked out.

There could be no happy ending. Darkness had greeted his arrival into the world and had cloaked his life except for a brief window opened by Ester.

Now, the window was closed, and darkness engulfed him once more.