Chapter Nine

T he following day left Cornelius little time to brood on the events of the garden party.

On his return to the great hall yesterday, he had ached to dance with Alice, but, aware of her ordeal and her unspoken fears, he would not inflict himself on her. Instead, he danced with Cecily. After all, he thought wearily, they might as well begin their flirtation before Morgan appeared in Blackhaven.

And shortly after that, he had escaped, with the excuse of matters to see to at Black Hill before the end of the day. In fact, he was so preoccupied with Alice that he failed to pay adequate attention to his siblings.

He knew Roderick was much taken up with a new business venture that Cornelius hoped would prevent him going back to the army. Like the others, he pretended not to hear the anguished cries of Roderick's nightmares, which seemed to be growing less with time. The army was no longer good for his brother.

Julius was still pursuing the horse thieves, who had turned out to be gun smugglers.

Lucy was furious because the man to whom her foolish mother had betrothed her at birth had suddenly appeared at the garden party. Cornelius couldn't see the need for fuss, since no one, let alone Julius, would force her to marry anyone, whatever their parents had agreed.

Felicia bothered him more. He suspected her of a clandestine love affair and didn't know whether to be pleased or afraid for her.

But it was Julius who suddenly upturned everything. A message from the twins was delivered to him in the fields. Antonia Macy was being abducted, and Julius had gone to sea in a borrowed ship in pursuit of his wretched gun smugglers. Dropping everything, Cornelius dashed back to the house, yelled for the carriage, and grabbed a pistol, dagger, and brandy for emergencies. At the last minute he swept an insistent Lucy with him to Blackhaven in search of the twins.

The twins had brought most of the town to the harbor, and poured out their unlikely tale involving Antonia and the cheating administrator of the local charity hospital, who appeared to be in league with Julius's gun smugglers.

Cornelius stood among his siblings—Delilah, Roderick, Felicia, and Aubrey were there too—staring out to sea, willing Julius to be safe. And Antonia. The cold fingers of fear around his heart forced him to acknowledge not just his affection but his need of his family. Julius was his heroic big brother who relied on him to tame the land and nurture it. It was just the purposeful work Cornelius had needed, still so discontented after Cecily, and he had seized Julius's offer with both hands.

It was true that, until the last few months, much of their lives had been lived apart, but Julius had aways been there, a powerful figure to look up to and turn to. To rely on. A world without Julius was unthinkable to Cornelius.

By the time Julius came ashore, his arm around Antonia, Cornelius could not speak for relief. Happiness blazed out of Julius's one eye. Cornelius, almost afraid of his emotion, began to compose wild poetry in his head, though he managed to cheer with his siblings as Julius announced his betrothal to Antonia.

Cornelius needed Julius to be happy. He needed them all to be happy.

With the crisis past, he knew he should return to Black Hill, but he didn't. He went with seemingly half the town to the hotel and enjoyed a large, boisterous tea party with champagne and toasts to the happy couple.

For the first time, he felt part of something larger than his own family. They were part of the Blackhaven community. Mr. Winslow the magistrate and Colonel Doverton of the local regiment were celebrating with them. So were the vicar and his wife, the doctor and his. The Vales were more than accepted in Blackhaven. They were liked . Even Cornelius seemed to be liked. For once, none of his conversations were about land or building repairs.

It felt a little like a revelation, not least because he liked the feeling. All that was missing was the presence of Alice.

Alice .

He left quietly, clapping Julius on the shoulder on his way past. It was still light outside, which took him by surprise. He had drunk too much champagne and was neglecting his duties. He had been absent all afternoon. Laborers, tradesmen, and tenants would all be going home. Cornelius, leaving the carriage for the others, meant to walk home. And he chose to do it via Braithwaite land. Just in case…

But unexpectedly, he caught up with her before he even reached the castle.

Wearing a rather dull gown and bonnet that might have been left over since childhood, she was marching briskly along the road and didn't hear him coming. He walked beside her for two steps before she became aware of his presence.

He half expected her to start, but instead he thought she smiled before she even turned her head.

"Mr. Vale. Where did you come from?"

"From the hotel. We were celebrating my brother's engagement to Mrs. Macy."

"How wonderful! I heard something of their adventures. Are you coming to the castle to tell us the rest?"

"No, I just decided to walk home. I'll leave Julius and Antonia to tell their own tale." Rather than ask how she was, he searched her face for signs of nervousness or alarm. He found none, only a hint of distracted excitement and a faint, soft flush in her cheeks that made her look so beautiful he ached. He rushed back into speech. "Are you just walking for pleasure, or have you been visiting?"

"Neither, really." She glanced at him. "You are a man used to keeping secrets. Will you keep mine?"

"Yes."

A smile flickered on her lips. "I was at the King's Head, making a few last-minute arrangements with our hired guards."

He blinked. "Hired guards?" It flashed through his mind that Roderick's new business was in such a line, but mostly, he was afraid for Alice. "Why do you need hired guards? Has that scoundrel Daubin dared to come near you again? Because if so—"

She laughed. "Lord, no, it is nothing like that. You are aware of my ambitions. And my sister Helen's."

"Yes."

"Well, we have taken the Whalen theatre for Monday—all day and into the evening. We shall show Helen's pictures in the foyer, offering them for sale, and I will give an evening recital."

"In Whalen?" he repeated uneasily. It was a larger, somewhat rougher town than Blackhaven, with much less in the way of either gentry or employment. Discontent had simmered below the surface and erupted into riots only a couple of weeks ago. "Why not Blackhaven?"

"Everyone knows us in Blackhaven. I told you it was a secret."

He caught his breath. "Your family doesn't know?"

"They would stop us. We want to reach more people. I know Whalen is not as rich, but it does have a higher population than Blackhaven, and it will be good practice for us. If we can arrange something similar in York or even London…"

"And you are hiring guards from the King's Head? At least it's not the tavern!"

She did not rise to his criticism. "You misunderstand. It is a new company of guards, and it just so happens that one of the partners is staying at the inn. Captain Skelton is a former army officer."

Cornelius relaxed. Skelton was Roderick's friend and partner. So it was Roderick who would guard Alice and Helen in their unwise venture. At least they would be safe.

"Will no one miss you if you are gone all day and evening?" he asked.

"I doubt it. The castle is filling up with more guests all the time. It's our grand ball on Friday. All my older sisters are present to help Eleanor with entertaining and so on, and if it comes down to it, Maria will cover for us."

"Why don't you take Lady Maria—and her husband—with you?" Cornelius asked, trying to provide the venture with a modicum of respectability.

"Then who would cover for us?" Alice said. "Besides, we wouldn't drag Maria into this. She does not care for confrontation, and if anything goes wrong and we are caught, Mama will explode. You will see the bodies for miles. And the scorched earth."

"And you will risk that?"

She lifted her chin. "Yes. We need to begin somewhere. We decided in London that Whalen was the perfect place to start. Are you disgusted?"

"No."

"Will you tell Gervaise?"

"Lord Braithwaite? No." Not yet, at any rate . "I gave you my word I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you."

She had no idea how her smile affected him. He wondered what she would do or feel if he took her hand. Would she flinch? Pull away in disgust? She had done neither at the ball or the garden party.

It does not matter. She is not for you under any circumstances.

She obviously knew that, for she did not invite him into the castle, merely said she would see him at church tomorrow then hurried off over the bridge while he turned left onto the path that wound past the castle and over the fields and hills.

He could still see her in his mind's eyes, smell her unique scent of freshness and warmth. No, she was not for him, but he could still look after her. She was his friend.

*

Knowing he had come from the hotel, Alice would have died rather than ask him about Cecily Morgan. And in fact, from the pleasure in his face when he spoke of his brother's engagement, she thought it was that—plus the champagne she could smell on his breath—that made him so much more…approachable.

She wished the walk to the castle were longer. She wished she had the courage to invite him for tea, but she could not bear an excuse.

What has happened to me? I used to seize every opportunity!

But there was no opportunity here for her. Cornelius was still in love with Cecily. Alice, with her sharp tongue, her temper, and her dislike of male intimacy, could never compete with Lady Morgan. In fact, it was beyond her why she would want to, given her inconvenient dislike that had only been reinforced by Darcy Daubin yesterday.

So, she went home alone, casting only one look back at him before he strode out of sight. She liked the way he moved, economical and decisive yet not without unconscious grace. She remembered how he waltzed and wished he had danced with her yesterday.

Her wishes and fears seemed to go around in circles.

In one sense, church the following day—where the banns were called for Julius Vale and Mrs. Macy for the first time—was an improvement on the previous week. Cornelius actually smiled at her. On the other hand, he was much more attentive to Cecily, whether for his flirtation campaign to make her husband jealous, or just because he wanted to. Alice tried to thrust him from her mind and concentrate on the logistics of their escape to Whalen the following day.

However, in her final pianoforte practice at the castle, she found she played better when his face danced in front of her. Perhaps by imagining him, she could also banish her performance nerves.

*

Early on Monday morning, Cornelius was surprised to receive a visit from Lord Braithwaite, who walked into his office in the wake of Lucy.

Guilt drove Cornelius to his feet, for it struck him he was hiding too many of Alice's secrets from her legal guardian. He even imagined Braithwaite had somehow got wind of his feelings for Alice and come to disabuse him of his pretensions.

But Braithwaite quite amiably held out his hand. "So sorry to interrupt you. I have come with a confession and can only beg your forgiveness."

Cornelius blinked. "You have? I mean, you do? Why?"

"Please, sit down," Lucy intervened, covering Cornelius's lapse of manners. She stuck her head back out the door. "Coffee if you please, John."

Why was she still lurking in the office with them?

"You took on one Rob Smith to oblige me," Braithwaite said.

"I was glad of him," Cornelius replied, sitting back down opposite the earl. "And he is a good worker. It is I who am obliged."

"The thing is," Braithwaite said with difficulty, "I was not entirely truthful. I changed his name to protect him as well as you. In fact, he is Luke Farmer, the son of one of my own tenants, and he had escaped from the town jail."

Cornelius, still unreasonably relieved that the visit had nothing to do with Alice, took a few moments to understand the ensuing story, which seemed to involve Lucy's reviled betrothed, Lord Eddleston. Braithwaite wanted to take Rob Smith, alias Luke Farmer, to Blackhaven to prove false a surely bizarre charge of highway robbery.

The timing was annoying, for Cornelius needed all hands possible today if he was to escape early. However, he could hardly stand in the way of justice and, after a pithy word to Farmer about honesty, wished him luck and sent him off with Braithwaite.

Although Cornelius didn't do quite all he wanted to that day, he bolted home at four o'clock to wash and change into evening clothes. Both the carriages had gone—one with Felicia, the other with Julius and Lucy—so he had to make do with the servants' gig to drive himself to Whalen.

Arriving in the town in good time, he left the tired horse to the tender mercies of a local inn, saying he would be back around nine or ten this evening. In his dreams, he drove back with Alice.

In reality, he enjoyed a bite to eat at the inn and strolled on to the theatre, hoping Helen and Alice would not be too disappointed by a poor turnout. He paused to read the bills outside the theatre, advertising an exhibition of watercolor pictures for sale and a pianoforte recital, by the Misses Connor. The really were incognito. He wondered if it would last all evening.

Pulling his hat down low, he marched up to the doors, which were immediately opened for him by an unknown man with a soldierly bearing, presumably one of Roderick's recruits. The quickest glance showed him a surprising number of people, mostly gazing at the pictures by Lady Helen.

Cornelius had seen some of her work at the garden party, and although he knew little about art, he had been very impressed by both her landscapes and her thoughtful, insightful portraits. Her style was very different from her brother-in-law Lord Tamar, who had apparently become very fashionable in London, but it retained a kind of fresh innocence that he doubted Tamar had ever possessed.

Cornelius could not linger to examine the pictures further, for barely three feet away from him, talking to a prospective buyer, was a masked lady in an evening gown who could only be Lady Helen herself. His lips twitched with as much appreciation as amusement. Perhaps he should do masked public readings of his poetry.

He could see no sign of Alice. Presumably, she was backstage.

He bought a ticket from the little box office—choosing the one seat still available in the front row—and tried to blend with the crowd on his way into the auditorium. Here, he was relieved to see Skelton, watchful and discreet. Roderick was presumably elsewhere, but another pair of eyes would surely do no harm.

Butterflies were swarming in his stomach, more like anxious bees, as he took his seat and waited with tense anticipation for Alice to walk onto the stage and take her seat at the grand pianoforte.

*

Alice sat in her tawdry little dressing room, frozen by fear. She wore a gorgeous and sophisticated evening gown of pure white, with gold trimmings under the bust, sleeves, and hem. The fabric of the gown was flecked with delicate gold thread and matched by the gold mask covering most of her face. It was held firmly in place so that it would not move and blind her during the performance. Her hair was piled high on her head. Helen had painted her pale lips, and she looked like a stranger in the glass.

Somewhere, she knew this was a good thing. She was barely nineteen years old, but on stage she would easily pass for thirty. She also knew that Helen had been brave enough to stand by her pictures all day and listen to the discussions of prospective buyers—not all complimentary, although much of it had been, and she had sold several pictures. The exhibition was already a success, and she had to do her part.

But she barely heard Helen's encouraging words as she was drawn to her feet. In fact, she clung pathetically to her sister as they walked along the passage to the stage.

From the wing, she glimpsed a terrifying sea of faces. The theatre was full. She had never in her life played to so many people. And yet this was only a steppingstone in her ambition. She wanted to play huge concert halls in the capitals of Europe. Oh God, who was she fooling?

I can't. I can't do it . She had no idea if she said the words aloud. The theatre manager, Mr. Pritchard, was looking anxious. Forcing herself, she let go of Helen.

As if from very far away, Helen said, "Go. Be brilliant. Be yourself."

There is no point. I can't play like this. I'm shaking like a leaf.

Yet she had promised.

Very slowly, forcing every step, Alice began to walk on stage into the glow of the light. A smattering of applause nearly sent her fleeing back to Helen in the wings, but, gritting her teeth, she kept going.

The noise in the auditorium quietened. She could not look beyond the pianoforte. She sat and spread her trembling fingers across the keys. Normally, as at the garden party, when she did this, her fingers took over, and then the music just flowed, banishing the terrible nerves. This time, nothing happened.

I can't remember the notes .

It was her worst nightmare. The audience shifted in their seats, restive. In a panic, she flicked her gaze toward Helen in the wing. But from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a man at the end of the first row in the audience. Still, handsome, and well dressed, he looked so much like Cornelius that she fixed her gaze upon him.

Dear God, it was Cornelius. He had come to listen to her.

Her heart swelled with pride and gratitude. For an instant, his eyes locked to hers, and her fingers began to play for him.

*

Cornelius could almost imagine that an unseen hand had pushed her on stage. Her fingers curled stiffly like claws at her side, and her beautiful gown trembled with her shivering. Beneath the beautiful mask, her lips were stretched into a fixed, unchanging smile.

Alice was terrified.

He wanted to leap onto the stage and take her hand, conduct her to her seat, and murmur words of belief and encouragement. She looked so desperately alone. The depths of her courage, her determination, moved him.

Why do you put yourself through this ?

He wanted to snatch her off the stage and make her safe. Only, she would hate him for it. Helplessly, he willed her to sit, to play as she had at the ball, at the castle…

She sat, but without her usual elegance—it looked more like a collapse. Now he was truly frightened for her. But somehow, she raised her shaking hands to the keys. The audience waited expectantly. So did Alice, as though the next step was beyond her control.

She can't do it, he thought numbly. Oh, my poor Alice …

This would shatter her. Her head moved, as though she were seeking some friend—Helen, perhaps—while members of the audience began to look at each other with annoyance. Up until now, she had totally ignored them, but her downcast eyes must have glimpsed the front rows below her, for, quite suddenly, she saw him.

Behind the mask, her eyes widened. Would she be angry because he witnessed her humiliation? How the devil was he to get her out of here? So many people could turn ugly…

Her lips curved, and in that instant, while their eyes still locked, she began to play.

Cornelius sagged back with relief. The whole tense episode had seemed to last a lifetime, but in reality it could only have been a few moments. As he gazed at her now in wonder, it was as if her fear had never been. The music flowed from her fingers, grasping her audience by the heart and sweeping them into her world of beauty and tragedy and soaring joy.

Apart from the Beethoven sonata, and her own composition, he did not recognize the pieces she played—each was greeted by tumultuous applause—but she ended on a fun, joyful dance that had the audience surging to its feet and clapping wildly.

Cornelius, trying to roar his approval with the rest, found that no sound would come out. It didn't matter. Crying, "Brava!" was simply not enough. He bolted, striding through the nearest door of the auditorium.

Most of the audience would pour out of the main doors at the back, into the large foyer, but one of Roderick's men stood in the side passage, almost next to Cornelius, calling to someone else in the foyer ahead. "…beautiful! Audience are over-exuberant, so watch 'em…"

Cornelius seized his moment and walked swiftly toward the back of the stage, his ears full of music, his heart full of Alice and his need to tell her how wonderful she was. As he whisked past a couple of offices, loud approval still rang out from the auditorium. He hoped to catch her as soon as she came off stage.

But someone else was there, a beaming, oily middle-aged man. The theatre manager, no doubt.

"My dear Mrs. Connor, quite dazzling! A brilliant performance, and they love you! One more bow…"

Cornelius, unwilling for the manager to see a man waiting for her, backed into the shadows. A wall lamp showed him a door with a sign on it saying Dressing Room . But the manager was already hurtling away toward the foyer, where there were still Lady Helen's pictures to protect. To say nothing of Helen herself.

From the shadows, Cornelius watched Alice almost leap down the steps from the stage. She still wore her mask, but her eyes sparkled and her lips were smiling as though they would never stop. She danced the few yards toward the dressing room, and Cornelius, words still stuck in his throat, stepped out of the gloom.

She let out a squeak, but it didn't seem to be of alarm, because the next instant, with a sound between a sob and laughter, she hurled herself against him, both arms around his neck.

"Oh, Cornelius, I did it! I did it!"

"By God , you did," he said hoarsely, closing his arms about her and spinning her right off her feet.

She laughed with pure joy, her lovely face turned up to his in the lamp's glow. He forgot everything he knew and acted instinctively from his own elation. He kissed her.