Chapter 38
The door slammed, shaking the whole cottage. After waiting what he considered to be a decent interval, Jack came out of the lavender-scented linen cupboard and walked downstairs, ducking his head at the turn. The last thing he expected to see was Nicola sitting on his lumpy sofa. Steam rose from two cups of tea in front of her.
She had fixed tea. As if that would help matters.
He attempted to sound disinterested. “You’re still here?”
Of course she was. She would do the proper thing, apologize again for lying, explain that she was going to marry Richard, return to her old life, wish him good luck. It had been an amusing interlude for them both, if a near-death experience could be termed such. Last night was just an aberration, even if it was the best aberration of his life.
Jack had lost. But he knew that anyway.
She opened her mouth, then shut it. How hard could it be for her to say good-bye? She’d played her trick, and it was time to end this charade.
“Do you have something you want to tell me?”
He’d heard quite enough before he’d stuffed himself in the linen closet and plugged his ears with striped tea towels. Her old suitor Richard had come to his senses. Wanted her back. Could offer her a normal life, not one with the highest peaks and lowest valleys.
“Yes. I do. That’s why I came over in the first place. To—to explain. About what happened. And, um, apologize for keeping my secret. And to tell you I finally remember things again.”
Did she remember she was still engaged to Richard?
“What do you mean?”
“It’s about the train accident.”
Oh, hell. That was the very last thing he wanted to think or talk about. Before last night, he’d made some progress after her prodding. All that business about some plan. Maybe he was still here on earth for some all-important reason he wasn’t quite privy to. It didn’t change the fact that Nicola had gotten her revenge and made a fool out of him. Lied to him, even if by omission. As if he wasn’t guilty enough, he’d now ruined one of his victims.
He’d never eat peaches again.
He sat down in a chair opposite her anyway. His legs didn’t feel quite strong enough to support him, and his head was beginning to pound. But he was not going to resort to the draughts that Oakley had prescribed; his dreams after were worse than ever.
Jack examined his fingernails, which could have used a good buffing. He’d go see Mr. Trumper once he went back in Town. Get advice about growing his beard back. Change his cologne. Maybe drink it and end it all.
“Don’t you keep telling me it’s all in the past? That I should just buck up and put it all behind me? If I’d known you’d bully me so, I wouldn’t have looked forward to you talking.” He looked up to see the result of his harsh words.
Nicola flushed. Jack could watch that rose color stain her throat and cheeks all day, but that wasn’t in his future.
“That’s not very nice.”
“I don’t feel very nice. Not after last night. You lied to me. And your…personal business with whatshisname has disturbed my morning.”
“Richard. Richard Crosby. He wants to be prime minister someday, so remember his name. I wouldn’t vote for him, but then women don’t have suffrage. And I didn’t ask him to come here! I had no idea my father sent him—no one wrote to tell me. He’s gone now, anyhow.”
“And you may join him anytime you please. I’ve got a headache.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Do you want Mrs. Feather to fetch you some medicine if—when she comes back?”
“No,” Jack said curtly. “I’m used to your lectures by now. Say your piece if you must, and then go.”
She clutched her hands together. “I know you feel betrayed that I didn’t tell you who I was, and you’ve revoked your proposal. But I didn’t know you were, well, you before Christmas Day. We were meant to be anonymous here, and when you told me everything, I couldn’t quite deal with it. Or believe it. It seemed absurd, the two of us in the same place. I—I liked you. I was afraid if you knew I was one of the injured people on the train, you wouldn’t like me in the same way. I wouldn’t be…me to you. Just a victim you needed to take care of.”
“Admit to more than liking, Nicola. You shared my bed. Or rather, I shared yours.”
She looked directly into his eyes. “Yes, I did, and I don’t go doing that with just anyone, as you must know. I was a virgin. I did my best to seduce you, Jack, because you wouldn’t seduce me. If you had known my name, it would have changed everything between us. You would have felt sorry for me. Treated me with kid gloves. Been even guiltier than you are already, and Lord knows, you’re guilty enough.”
Everything she was saying described his feelings perfectly. How damned aggravating for her to be so accurate. “So much so that I seem to remember that I annoy you,” Jack said, trying to distance himself.
“Yes, you do. I’m sick of it. I’ve tried to be understanding. Look—I’ve forgiven you, even though I don’t believe for one minute you were responsible for my accident. I didn’t speak for ten long months. What I went through was no picnic. My parents tried everything and every remedy with no result. It wasn’t until I met you that I felt hope.”
“There’s irony for you.”
He watched one hand become a fist. He could duck if he had to, though his reflexes were not up to par.
“You brought me back, Jack. Your…your attentions. From the moment you kissed me in the churchyard, I started to unravel. And then when you went and banged yourself on the head, I had no choice but to get help for you. To scream. I didn’t even think about it—the noise just flowed. I’m surprised they didn’t hear me in Stroud.”
“You think I cured you?” The idea was preposterous.
She nodded. “Knowing you was the beginning. What if you hadn’t come here? I don’t want to think of more months of silence. I might never have spoken again. My whole life constricted by silence. You cannot know how miserable it made me and everyone around me.”
“I have a fair idea.” He’d only know her a few days before he had come up with his manual alphabet scheme. He’d wanted to reach her in a special way, give her one more tool to communicate.
“The puzzle pieces fell together for me. I haven’t told you, but I’ve had a few bad dreams too. I kept seeing you—or someone I thought was you. You were injured. Just…just lying there. When I found you in the snow, it was as if that dream came to life.
“But I don’t believe in portents or the occult. It wasn’t you in my dreams for all these months after all.”
His curiosity got the better of him. “So, who was it?”
“A man on the train. A nice man, for I’d spoken to him coming back from the dining car. He had a dark beard, like yours. He was next to me on the floor of the carriage after it fell, and he…died. But not at first. He groaned. Tried to speak. Looked at me with such need. There was blood on his face, but then it stopped flowing and I knew.
“I—had to push him away, but he just kept sliding up against me. Again and again until I had no strength left. I crawled into the corner of the car and thought he’d follow me. His eyes were open as if he could see me hiding.” She took a breath. “No one came. Not for hours. I thought I was dreaming, but it was I. I was the one screaming and screaming until I couldn’t catch my breath anymore.”
Jack could see it all too clearly now. Did she think this was helping him? Her nightmare was now his. Could he feel any worse?
Yes. The woman he loved was going to marry someone else.