“You’re in no state to go,” Nellie said. “Why not rouse your father?”
“My father is on duty at the hospital. I must go.” Besides, helping someone in need would distract him from his gloomy ruminations. He remounted his horse and hauled the messenger boy up behind his saddle. “Go to bed,” he repeated to Nellie and, not waiting for a reply, cantered off.
Dawn was bleaching the eastern sky when he finally clip-clopped home on his weary mare. Figgs was there to take his horse, which was fortunate as he had no energy left to spare. Entering the house, Julian stood for a while in the hallway, breathing in the stillness, the peace, the aches in his body subsiding. His night had been turbulent, violent even, but stepping into this house was a benison. Monksbane was his home, but more importantly its inhabitants were his family, its harmony his source of strength. How could he not have seen that before?
“Julian?”
He turned to see Elijah standing in the doorway to his examination room.
“Father.” His voice cracked.
Elijah’s eyes widened. “Good God, you’re injured again! What am I to do with you, boy?”
Julian opened his mouth to explain, but his father hustled him into his room and pushed him onto a wooden stool. As Elijah fussed over him, emotion, sorely tested throughout the night, swelled in Julian’s chest to bursting point whereupon several shudders racked his body.
Elijah paused, even more worried. “Why, what is it, son? Is there something else amiss? I heard you were called away earlier to a childbed. Did it go badly?”
“No, indeed,” he managed to choke out. “It was a difficult labour, but both mother and child are safe.” He paused to inhale deeply, perplexed at his lack of composure.
Elijah squeezed his arm. “Good, good. You are exhausted. As soon as I’m done, you must get yourself to bed.”
The loving concern in the old man’s face made Julian reach out and grasp Elijah’s hand. “May we talk? Now?”
Slowly Elijah set aside his cleaning swabs, his gaze never leaving Julian’s face. “But of course. Should we go into the library and make ourselves comfortable?”
Julian shook his head. “If I sit somewhere comfortable, I will fall asleep instantly.” He drew in another breath, striving for some self-control as Elijah drew up a chair opposite him. “It was a good thing the midwife sent for me. The labour was difficult, and the child was born with its cord wrapped around his neck. He was blue, no sign of breathing, but I blew several times into his mouth and massaged his chest, and suddenly he let out this thin wail.” He blinked at the memory.
“You did well.”
“He was such a tiny fellow, yet his cry filled the room. His father came rushing in at the sound, saw the babe, and burst into tears along with the mother. I’d never seen such prouder parents.”
Elijah smiled but said nothing, as if sensing that Julian needed the space to collect his thoughts.
“They’re not wealthy, but what they have to give their son is more precious than any gold.” Swallowing, he slid from the stool and bent down on one knee before Elijah. “I’ve been a colossal fool these past six months. I was seeking something when what I already had was infinitely priceless. I took your affection for granted. Can you ever forgive me?”
Elijah breathed in audibly. Seconds ticked by before he responded, an unfamiliar tremor in his voice. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were curious about where you came from. That’s only natural in a young man, and I should have been more understanding.”
“Confound it, Father. Why must you be so humble and benevolent?”
Elijah smiled faintly, an unfamiliar sheen in his eyes. “Would you prefer I harangue you?”
“You make me even more ashamed.” Reaching out, he touched his father’s hand. Elijah’s hands folded around his, rough, gnarled, gentle. Julian blinked fiercely at the treacherous moisture behind his eyes. Fumbling in the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out the delicate bee brooch. “Here, take it, Father. I have no more use for it.”
“No, ’tis yours, son.”
Julian shook his head. “It has brought me nothing but doubt and self-loathing. It reminds me only of my shortcomings. My mother loved me, I know this, but I don’t need proof of it. Not anymore.”
Slowly Elijah reached out for the bee brooch and twirled it between his fingers. Something dark and tormented flashed through his eyes, and when he spoke his voice was rough. “You shouldn’t be kneeling before me, son, for the truth of it is, you saved me as much as I saved you. You saved me from the life of selfish misery I’d sunk into when I lost my beloved family. Your mewling cry on the doorstep woke me from the depths of my apathy. You made me see that I was still needed, that my life could yet have meaning. When you began your quest, I feared slipping back into the darkness. I…I was afraid of losing you and myself.”
“Father.” Julian could scarcely see for the tears in his eyes. “That could never happen. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”
A suspicion of moisture shone in the seams surrounding Elijah’s eyes. “This brooch is yours. You must do with it what you will.” He tucked the jewellery piece into the top pocket of Julian’s jacket and, gripping him by the upper arms, rose from his seat. “Come, you mustn’t kneel before me any longer. We are men. We must stand together, and if you continue looking at me like that you will quite unman me soon.” His voice quavered perilously.
“I would hate to do that.” Standing, head to head, Julian gazed into his father’s face.
Elijah cleared his throat loudly. “May I ask what brought on your epiphany? Was it the infant you saved this morning?”
“Not entirely.” Threading tired fingers through his hair, Julian attempted to order thoughts which had milled in his head throughout the long night. Expressing them to his father would help himself make sense of it all. “My injuries resulted from an adventure of sorts Nellie and I had last night, the details of which I’ll not divulge right now. Suffice to say that I saw both Sir Thaddeus and his son, Pip, and I realised that the sum of a man’s worth is made up of many parts and the lineage of a man is of far less importance than his conduct. The Ormonds’ treatment of Nellie has made me ashamed to share their blood.” His lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Isn’t that ironic, given how excited I was to discover the illustrious ownership of my brooch?”
Elijah nodded in sympathy. “Often the path to self-knowledge is littered with blind alleys.”
“In all honesty I cannot regret my circuitous path, for it brought Nellie into my life.” Julian drew in a deep breath. “Without her, I wouldn’t be standing here saying these things to you.” And without his dogged pursuit of Sir Thaddeus, she would be dead and forgotten. Their fates were as closely interwoven as the fibres of the carpet beneath his feet.
His father smiled. “Yes, we’re all the better for having Nellie in our lives.”
But for how much longer? He studied the faded Turkish rug. The edges of the carpet were frayed, the weft threads coming apart. Even hard-wearing, tightly knitted rugs could unravel. Nellie had grown stronger, more independent. She didn’t need him as much, perhaps not at all. And he? For months he’d been chasing the past, but now the future beckoned him, filled with hard work and possibilities, the most important of which was: would his future continue to lace with hers?
Chapter Twelve
From across the broad street, Julian watched Nellie as she rang the bell of the Ormond townhouse. The rich green wool of her riding habit suited her colouring and figure. He admired her straight, narrow back and trim shoulders, her head held high and proud. Her abundant chestnut curls glinted in the sunlight, unhampered by any veil or hat. On their journey to Mayfair, she’d attracted a few stares, and some street urchins had pointed at her and screwed up their faces, but Nellie had been unperturbed. She was done with all disguise.