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Chapter 22
Sleep was nothing but a concept for Giulia that night. She made her nightly voyage to the kitchen for lemon tarts and hoped she would run into Nick, but he did not appear. She went to the locked tower on her way back from the kitchens and tried her hand at picking the lock, but to no avail. And then, when she could procrastinate no further, she sat before the dwindling fire in her room and opened her father’s journal.
She knew what to expect, for she had seen her father’s writing many times. She even anticipated the wave of grief and longing that washed over her as she began to read his words. What she did not expect, however, was that the more she read, the more she could hear her father’s voice, and could nearly feel two warm arms wrap around her as if he was actually beside her.
Giulia read accounts of their journeys together, she read about the way he had loved and depended on Ames, and she even read the snippets here and there about his pride and joy, his Jules. Tears streamed down her face as she saw in her father’s own words how much she had meant to him. A piece of her heart that had always felt less than adequate now brimmed over with love.
How had she ever thought that he had blamed her for her mother leaving? How had she convinced herself that he would have preferred to have Lily Cattaneo in his life over Giulia? Reading about his love and affection put to rest the years of doubts she had shouldered and the inadequacies she had felt.
She flipped the journal over to keep its place and retrieved a handkerchief to wipe the tears from her face. She was nearly finished, but the crying was making it difficult to read. Glancing at the window, she found that she had stayed awake all night as the swallows that nested above her window started to sing to the first rays of sunlight pouring over the edge of the earth. Giulia picked up the journal and moved to her bed before settling in and resuming her reading.
Jules made me proud today. We were visiting the village where most of the laborers for the Sutter’s plantation come from, and a group of children began to follow us as we toured their village. Jules was making silly faces at the children, and the next thing I knew she had left my side and was teaching the little brats how to sing ‘Baa, Baa Black Sheep.’ Before I knew it, she had all of the children running around like sheep and she was chasing them as if she needed their wool. They do not share a language so I cannot fathom how she was able to convey the rhyme to them, but she has a gift with people, my Jules does. I do not know what my life would be without her.
Giulia chuckled as she recalled that day. She pulled her jeweled elephant from her bodice and kissed it before continuing to read. There were less stories as she neared the end of the journal and the entries became reminiscences of earlier times. She stopped dead as soon as she reached an entry dated one week before her father’s death, with the first line beginning, Lily would have been proud of my Jules.
Giulia sucked in a breath and slammed the book closed. The culmination of her father’s journal and the memories it evoked, Ames’s stark absence, and her mother’s recent reappearance were enough to make her nauseous. She sat up and held her stomach, closing her eyes and willing the nausea to go away.
When she opened her eyes again it was with resolve. Her fingers flipped through the pages until she nearly reached the end and found the place where she had left off.
Lily would have been proud of my Jules. It amazes me how the girl can look so much like her mother yet be nothing like her in any other way. She is brave and strong like me, but soft and kind and compassionate. I see so much of her grandmother in her fearlessness, but also in her acceptance and empathy. It saddens my heart to think those two had never met, and even more so that I am the reason they were kept apart. There were no two kindred spirits truer than my Jules and my mother.
I am grateful Lily left when she did. I did not see it at the time, but she paved the way for Jules to grow into the amazing woman she is today. Lily had no compassion, no heart. She had a craving for the treasure but never for the hunting, and if I had not cried broke when I did, she would have held on for all of Halstead, I am sure. Gresham was welcome to her.
I managed to convince her that Robert needed an heiress to save the estate, and I am certain it saved his life. She never seemed to care that I was the second son, and for that I feared for my brother. The woman was a mastermind of manipulation, and we were better off without her. I only wish I had not burnt every bridge when I chose to marry the love of Robert’s life. Perhaps then I could have taken Jules home.
Giulia reread the last paragraph before closing the book and locating her slippers. She slid her feet into her shoes and ran her hand under the tapestry before thinking better of it. Pausing, she dropped the tapestry against the wall. She knew how to access Nick’s room from the secret passageway through the next room over, but she would most likely become utterly lost if she tried to find it from her own.
She sped down the corridor and through the staircases as quickly and quietly as her feet would take her.
Knocking softly, she only had to wait a minute before the knob turned and the door opened, a groggy Nick standing in the open space with tired eyes and his dressing gown tied haphazardly in his haste. His eyes widened in surprise when he took Giulia in, and he glanced over his shoulder, where she was assuming he was reading the clock.
“Yes, I know it is early,” she said quietly. “But you said when I needed you, then I knew where to find you. Or something along those lines.”
He looked skeptical and she lifted the journal. “I have made a discovery, though I would prefer to discuss it when you are fully clothed. Should I wait, or…?”
He cleared his throat, pink tinging his cheeks. “Meet me in the breakfast room.”
“That may be too public.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you better come in.”
“No.” Giulia shook her head. “I am no longer your nurse, so that would not be proper.”
He looked at her for a long moment and then smiled. “Go back to your room. I will come for you in a quarter of an hour.” He shut the door and she stepped back, dazed from the sudden oak barrier in her face.
* * *
Nick lit the candle on his mantle before entering the secret passageway that linked his room to the west wing. He closed the bookcase most of the way, leaving a small gap to get back into his room, and turned to walk down the dark corridor.
A small smile tilted his lips as he made his way down the dirty passageway. Giulia was rattled by something, and she had chosen to come to him. He let the satisfaction sit momentarily before remembering her face the night before, and worry took precedence. That she was keeping something from him was unquestionable. Why she felt like she couldn’t trust him was a mystery, and not the kind he enjoyed solving.
He had been hurt when she had asked for the journal back. The feeling mounted when she had refused to confide in him. He had stormed back to his room in a rage and slammed the bookcase door shut, throwing books from the shelves in his anger and creating havoc. Cleaning up the mess had sobered his vexation, but the hurt still simmered.
He cared for Giulia, and the idea of her not trusting him when he trusted her so greatly made him rethink how much he cared for her. Careful consideration did nothing to change his mind. He was thoroughly besotted with her. Giulia’s charm and compassion were a small part of what made her so uniquely wonderful. And reading Patrick Pepper’s journal had only reiterated what Nick already felt. Reading the journal had given Nick a window into the mind of Giulia’s father. Patrick Pepper had had a gift with words, and particularly with storytelling. His journal was more of a compilation of stories than one man’s rambling thoughts.
Nick had the impression that he’d gotten to read the real adventures of Patrick Pepper and his assistant, Jules, and the periodical that the man had produced was likely mere fluff. The thought gave him pride, and he was glad he had been honored with the opportunity.
If only he’d had the chance to finish reading it.
