Dangerous Exile by K.J. Jackson
{ Chapter 22 }
“This is where you lived, or at least where you lived when I knew you.” From atop her horse, Ness pointed to the right with her left hand, the motion in her fingers not causing the slightest discomfort along her arm. She probably didn’t even need the splint attached to her forearm anymore, though Talen insisted on keeping it on her, patiently rewrapping her arm three times a day so her skin didn’t rot against the splint or itch too much.
She warily looked at Talen on his horse. The knuckles of his hand holding the reins were strained to white.
He didn’t want to be here.
But he’d come because she’d insisted. She was pushing too hard and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself. He’d been the one to teach her how to fight, so that’s what she was doing.
Fighting to get him to remember. Remember her. Remember his past so that he could believe in himself. In the good that he held within him. Because right now, he still thought he was death. Death to her.
He may have stopped saying it, but he still believed it. She saw it in his eyes. In the angst etched deep in his blue irises.
His look flicked from Washburn Manor to her. “We should be headed north right now, Ness. Not on some fool’s errand to look at a monstrosity of wealth and privilege.”
She glanced to her right. The main house was a bit much. It had been a grand palace of fun when she was young. Portland stone graced all sides of the manor house. Fat and wide and perfectly symmetrical. A beacon of light against the green surrounding it.
Wide green lawns unfurled in every direction until meeting with the forest on the back side and grazing fields on the right and left. The lawn held perfectly manicured evergreens all about, a labyrinth, several ponds and a multitude of gardens where one could easily get lost. The stables were beyond a swath of forest in the rear, five barns that had, at some point, housed some of the finest breeding horses in England, if she correctly recalled what her father had once said.
Grandeur and pomposity oozed in every direction. But that had been Talen’s childhood. A childhood she knew he’d been happy in. Happiness he could take solace in, happiness that could steal some of the pain away from what he’d remembered.
She cleared her throat and looked to him. “The coach got stuck twice yesterday on the way back to the village, and the driver said the roads were much worse this morning. So our options are to sleep on the roadside tonight when we get stuck halfway to the border because you are too insistent on leaving, or to spend the day here in the area. And there is no harm in visiting the estate—it may help you to remember more.”
His stare had moved off of her to fix on the manor house, his jaw shifting back and forth. “I don’t know that I want to remember more. Yesterday was enough.” His head swiveled, his wide eyes finding her. “The coach got stuck twice yesterday? How did you get it out?”
“The driver and I both pushed on the rear corner of the carriage as he turned the horses with a long lead rope.”
His brows lifted. “And I sat inside the coach the whole time?”
She didn’t try to hide her grin. “You did.”
“Pathetic.” He exhaled, his head shaking. “Well, I am back in the land of the living, you can be assured of that.”
A wanton smile crossed her face. “Anytime you need me to ground you to the present time and place, I am more than willing.”
A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I may black out more often if that is my reward.”
She motioned with her left hand that had been resting in her lap. “Shall we at least go up the drive? We don’t have to inquire about going inside or meeting anyone in residence. Just poke about.”
He looked up the long gravel drive, staring at it for a long moment before nodding his head.
She flicked her reins with her right hand, sending her mare into motion next to his horse. They moved slowly, Talen’s eyes shifting across the landscape, the land unfurling out from the manor house, the lane lined on one side with majestic oaks about to drop their leaves.
His focus landed on the manor house up the hill, his eyes squinting at the structure. “Who are these people that I come from?”
Her lips drew inward for a long moment as her heart sank.
He really hadn’t remembered anything past the night his parents died. She’d hoped sleep would help him. He’d been so quiet the previous night about everything that was going on in his mind, that she hadn’t wanted to badger him with a lot of questions about what he did and did not remember.
She forced a neutral smile on her face. “You were one of the grandsons of the Earl of Washburn. Your cousin, Harriet, she was my friend, and she was why I would always be so happy to visit this place. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall how many grandchildren there were or who her parents were or who your parents were—I was so young and I didn’t pay attention to all the adults. And then after your parents’ funeral, we no longer visited. I do not know why we stopped. I wish I had paid more attention, could remember more to help.”
His eyes closed for a long moment as he nodded. His face suddenly scrunched tight in a long wince. “My father—there was a uniform.”
Ness looked to the manor house, searching her memory. There had been so many adults there when her family visited and the adults rarely interacted with the children.
A faint recollection perked into her mind. “Yes, maybe. I partly remember a man in a red uniform. I believe he may have been in the army?”
Her head shook as her eyes closed. “I’m sorry I don’t remember more. I remember the funeral for the three of you, we traveled here for that, but there were so many hushed tones of people talking about what happened to your family, and I didn’t understand any of it. Just that Harriet was so sad and scared she barely spoke two words to me. I never heard what happened to you three, just that you all died in a horrible accident. We didn’t visit again. And I missed it, missed Harriet, missed you. I’m trying to remember more and I hate that I cannot.”
“It’s not up to you to piece my life back together for me, Ness.”
She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, worry on his face. Worry for her when he should only be worried about his own mind.
She gave him a bright smile. “I just want you to know where your place in the world once was. That you were happy here. I knew that about you. You laughed too easily back then to have been troubled. Real laughter. Your laughter was so light and carefree. It was a rare thing. Even I understood that at that age. Wondered at it.”
A distance in front of them, a carriage pulled up from the far side of the manor house and stopped at the front door of the home. Anyone exiting the manor house was blocked from view, but Ness could see through the open space under the carriage dark boots and skirts shuffling about. Then the coach was on the move, clipping down the drive toward them.
Talen shifted his horse off to the side of the lane and Ness followed suit, tightening the reins to still her horse until the carriage passed.
The finest of carriages with a partially faded coat of arms—a lion opposite a dragon surrounded the shield—passed Ness and Talen with the curtain drawn. Just as she was about to nudge her mount forward, the coach stopped abruptly, sending the team of horses neighing, pawing at the ground at the intrusion to their pace down the hillside.
The driver turned around in his perch and motioned to Talen and Ness to move to the coach.
Talen gave Ness a sidelong glance with a raised eyebrow, then clicked his horse into motion to align next to the carriage.
The curtain pulled aside and the small window slipped open. An elderly woman with a turquoise turban wrapped atop her head, but not covering the tufts of white hair that curled out along the edges, popped into the opening of the window.
Talen tilted his hat to her.
“You, young sir”—the woman pointed at Talen, her white glove wagging into the air just outside the carriage—“take off your hat.”
Blunt and bordering on rude, but the woman didn’t seem to take note, her tone almost frantic.
Talen glanced at Ness, then removed his top hat from his head. “Ma’am?”
The elderly woman poked her head fully out of the window, her eyes squinting as she studied Talen’s face. Then her cheeks went pale. Paler. Paler.
Her lower jaw dropped, a whisper on her tongue. “No, no, it couldn’t be.”
Talen stiffened on his horse. “Did you have something you needed to say to us, ma’am? We were just about to make it up to the main house to inquire as to who is in residence. We have some inquiries to make on the history of the place.”
“Inquiries, what sort of inquiries?” Her look went sharp on him.
“I am told I have history here that I am attempting to uncover. Might you know who currently resides here?”
The older woman bristled, her gloved hand gripping onto the lower edge of the window. “I reside here—I’m the Dowager Countess of Washburn, and you are, sir?”
“I am Talen Blackstone.” Talen turned to motion to Ness. “And this is Mrs. Docherty.”
“Mrs. Docherty.” The woman rolled the name over her tongue several times, but couldn’t tear her stare off of Talen. “Mrs. Docherty. I should know that name. Where should I know that name from?”
Her eyes squinted harder at Talen. “But you. You I know. Your eyes.”
Talen stilled. “You do?”
“I do. I do. Why do I know your eyes, young man?”
The dowager gasped a breath, shuddered, and then retreated for a moment back into the carriage before poking her head in front of the window again, her look searching Talen’s face. “Conner? Little Conner? No. Impossible. It cannot be.” Her dark brown eyes looked haunted.
Talen stared at her, his jaw solidly in place. Silent.
Everything in Ness clenched, and she couldn’t look away from Talen, trying to discern what he was thinking.
The silence stretched onward, the dowager and Ness staring at Talen. Talen sitting stoically atop his horse, not moving, not acknowledging the dowager’s words.
Ness gave a tiny cough. “It is him. Conner. I recognized him and brought him here. It is him, but he doesn’t remember that time.”
“Doesn’t remember that time?” The dowager finally swung her look to Ness and her nose flipped up as she scrutinized Ness from head to toe. A vacant smile pasted the edges of her lips to her cheeks. “You, Mrs. Docherty, you are…forgive me, but my memory fades me…you’ve been here before?” Her head shook with a long blink, her turban hitting the upper part of the window. “Are you Baron Gundall’s girl? I thought she married into the Whetland family?”
“I did. I am Nessia. But I am a widow now.”
“Nessia—ahh—you are? Did you marry the eldest or the youngest grandson of Lord Whetland?”
“The youngest. Gilroy.”
“I am sorry to hear that, dear.” Her finger flicked out to point at Ness’s left arm resting in her lap. “Your arm looks to be in pain.”
Ness looked down with a shrug. “It is mostly healed now, it doesn’t pain at all.”
“Good, good, good,” the dowager whispered slowly, mostly to herself in what looked like an attempt to purchase a modicum of time to gain her equilibrium.
She exhaled a long breath, her look swiveling to Talen. “Forgive me for my bluntness on this matter, but you, lad…you don’t remember? You don’t remember who you are? How can that be?”
Talen lifted his shoulders. “I am attempting to piece together that answer for myself as well. Mrs. Docherty has been kind enough to show me this place in attempt to spur some memories forth.”
The dowager nodded. “Of course, of course. Such a kindness. But you, you both must come up to the main house and sit with me. This isn’t proper, a conversation like this out in the open in the drive.”
Talen shook his head. “We didn’t intend to interrupt your plans, as you were clearly on your way out.”
She flicked her hand in the air. “Nonsense. I was about to do a round of calls, but that can wait. We weren’t going to get far anyway, if the mud on your horses is any indication of the roads. This is far more important. You will follow me up to the house.” Her head turned toward the front of the carriage. “Turn us around, Mr. Leopold. Straight to the house.”
“Yes, mi’lady.”
The driver nodded toward Talen and Ness before sending the horses down to the base of the drive where he could turn the carriage about in a wide swath of gravel. Within minutes, the carriage passed them on the way back up to the main house.
Ness glanced to Talen. “Are you ready for this?”
He looked at her, a steely glint in his pale blue eyes. “Why do I think my answer should be no?”
Her lips pulled back in a smile that didn’t quite make it into a smile. The whirlwind whipping around in her belly reflected the exact thing in his eyes.
She wasn’t sure either of them was ready for this. But there was no turning back now. “I am here with you, no matter what.”
He gave her the slightest nod.
She inclined her head toward the manor house, nudging her horse into motion.
Onward.