My throat constricted. His urgency appeared to confirm my suspicion. With affected calmness, I called out for Bingley to complete the game in my place. My friend readily agreed.
Although Graham had already set out in the direction of the house, I lingered as Elizabeth stepped up to roll her ball. Would this be my last glimpse of her? She swung her head in my direction, catching my gaze with a dazzling smile. I attempted to return a look that expressed my love for her. With a great force of will, I turned and walked towards Graham’s retreating figure.
He led me to the front sitting room where I sat opposite him. A constriction in my chest forced me to take shallow breaths. A thought came to me: at this moment, Bennet would be upstairs in the nursery. Would Graham allow me to see him one last time?
“In light of what you must be thinking at this moment, I am awed by your bravery. But more to the point, I owe you an apology.” He offered a crooked smile. “When I declared to have saved your life, I understood that to be true, and I maintained the belief until today. An incontrovertible rule applies when I intercede with a mortal’s death—I can extend someone’s life for up to seven days and no longer. However, I made a mistake.”
I swallowed hard. “What sort of mistake?”
“In my defence, anyone watching your fall a week ago would have assumed that you would have perished without my interference. Today, I discovered I had not, in fact, saved you.”
My hands trembled as his extraordinary narrative continued. Could this be true? The desire to believe Graham overwhelmed me.
“In effect, your bond with your horse saved you, for that black steed refused to let you go.”
I pressed my palms to my eyes. “Regal has always been clever, but this is incredible.” A ragged breath squeezed from me. “Then I am not at the end of my life.”
“No, you are not. In fact, I am delighted to affirm that you, Elizabeth, Bennet, your daughter, and the second son that will follow will have long and contented lives.”
My hand raised to my chest. I had a lifetime with Elizabeth and our children—three children—ahead of me! Tears fell on my coat while I fumbled in my pocket for my handkerchief.
Graham retrieved a decanter of brandy and two glasses. He filled the glasses and gave one to me. “I believe you can use a drink.”
I took a gulp of the liquor. The burning liquid penetrated me, and my equanimity made a slow return. “I am gratified to hear your assurances, but what prevented you from telling me this yesterday?”
“In truth. I am not certain. I suspect that my brother, Clive, interfered with my abilities.” Graham grimaced. “Although I fulfilled my original goal of improving my understanding of mortals and even managed to assist several people during my stay, I identified with you so much that I almost lost sight of myself. Clive tried to warn me of this, but I refused to listen.” He paused, anchoring his gaze upon the brandy as he swirled it. “When your death appeared to be inevitable, I had thought I might, shall we say, step in and help fill the void created by your demise.”
My jaw clenched. “Are you speaking of Elizabeth? Did you hope to take my place with her?”
“In a word, yes.” Graham thrust his hand out in a defensive position. “But it is obvious she loves you with the whole of her heart. No man could hope to replace you in her eyes. My main object would have been to support her as a friend. I could not expect her to ever look at me in any other way. I do not deny that, in time, if she developed feelings…”
I shot to my feet. “You need not explain. None of that matters now.”
He relaxed against the chair. “Quite right. You have every reason to rejoice. I shall make my farewell to Elizabeth and depart before the day is done. I trust you will make my excuses to the others.”
“Yes, of course.” At last, I should be free of him. Yet despite the disorder and anxiety he caused me, Graham had granted me a valuable gift. “Before you go, I must thank you. You have eased my mind in a profound way, just as you have done for my brother Richard. The knowledge that I need not fear Elizabeth will perish from complications associated with childbirth is an invaluable gift.”
Graham stood and shook my proffered hand. “You have taught me a great deal and impressed me with your probity and admirable principles. Thanks to you and your charming wife, this has been a holiday I shall never forget.” He tilted his head and kept hold of my hand. “There are two people present who wish to convey messages to you. Your mother is elated to witness the joy Elizabeth and Bennet have brought to your life. She allows that at first, she bristled at your choice of wife. Soon enough, though, she realised no one else could have suited you better. She is delighted with the close bond you formed with Georgiana and approves of her marriage to her favourite nephew.”
Moisture pooled in my eyes again as I pictured Mother’s joyous countenance on the day she had informed me that she would give me a brother or a sister.
“Your father is awed by the closeness you have with Bennet, and he is regretful that he did not spend more time with you and Georgiana in the first years of your lives. He wants to convey that he is proud of you. Both of your parents send you and your family their love.” Graham released my hand. “I have sensed your parents’ presences about the house several times throughout my stay. They are frequent visitors.”
A mélange of emotions inundated me. I raised my handkerchief and wiped my eyes. “I should be obliged if you would tell them for me that I love them and miss them.”
Graham beamed at me. “They heard you.”
Graham
In accordance with Clive’s instructions, I took a seat in a quiet corner of the rose garden. Soon enough, a rather unkempt gentleman entered through the gate. He staggered forwards, his coat askew and rumpled, his trousers wrinkled.
As he hobbled along, the man gazed around himself as though lost or disoriented. When he caught sight of me, he veered in my direction. “Pardon me, sir. Would you be Mr. Graham by any chance?”
I stood and bowed to the man. “That is correct, my good sir. And who might you be?”
“My name is Mr. Andrew Oakley. Unfortunately, I am a bit perplexed at present.” He indicated the nearby bench. “Do you mind if I sit there?”
“Not at all. Pray do so.” In my one brief and unpleasant prior encounter with Mr. Oakley, I had paid scant attention to his countenance. My current perusal of his visage revealed him to be attractive—absent his former sneer. Flecks of grey dotted his deep-set, green eyes, his well-formed jaw jutted at a moderate length, and he had a fine, straight nose. His thick mane of tousled dark-brown hair emphasised his disordered state. Based upon the portrait of Nicholas Mead hanging in Sarah’s sitting room, the deceased man had not resembled Mr. Andrew Oakley in the least. In any event, I judged Mr. Oakley to be the handsomer of the two.
