An Echo in the Darkness(159)

“So do I.” The dark circles beneath her eyes proclaimed the ravages of illness. “But I don’t think it’s possible.”

“I have to forget or go mad.”

“Oh, Marcus, forgive me! I didn’t know what I was doing.”

His eyes flashed. “You knew,” he said coldly, unable to abide her lies.

Julia closed her eyes, her mouth trembling. For once she was honest with herself. “All right,” she said in a choked voice. “I knew. I knew, but I was so consumed with misery myself that I didn’t care what I did to anyone else. I thought if Hadassah was dead, everything would be the way it used to be.” She looked up at him desperately. “Can you understand that?”

He stared at her coldly. “And was it?”

“You know it wasn’t.” She looked away from his cold face. “I loved her, too, Marcus, only I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

“Loved her?” he said, eyes blazing. “You loved Calabah.”

“I was deceived by Calabah.”

“You walked into that relationship with your eyes wide open. I warned you myself, but you wouldn’t listen. Don’t tell me now you didn’t know.” Marcus turned and walked toward the archway to her private balcony, unable to stand being near her.

Julia looked at his rigid back and wanted to weep. “I don’t expect you to understand. How can you? After Hadassah died, I felt this horrible void. Not just because you cursed me and left that day, but because . . . because Hadassah was the only one who ever really loved me.”

Marcus turned on her. “Your self-pity sickens me, Julia. What of Father and Mother? Didn’t they love you enough? What of me?”

“It wasn’t the same kind of love,” she said softly.

Marcus frowned.

“You know what she was like. Hadassah loved me for who I was, not for who she hoped I’d be. No expectations. No conditions. She saw me at my worst and still . . .” She shook her head, looking away.

Silence filled the room.

“Everything went bad,” Julia said bleakly. “Life soured.” She looked up at him, eyes pleading for his forgiveness.

“I don’t want to hear this, Julia.” He turned away. “I can’t listen to it.”

“I didn’t know what was missing until Azar came. Oh, Marcus, she’s like Hadassah. She’s—”

Marcus turned, and she saw the pain in his eyes and the anger he tried so hard to deny. She knew it was her fault both were there. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Marcus,” she whispered brokenly. “What more can I say?”

“Nothing.”

She swallowed. “I’d bring her back if I could.”

He was silent for a long moment. “I can’t be in this room with you unless we reach an understanding. We won’t speak of Hadassah ever again. Do you understand me?”

She felt as though he had put upon her the sentence of death. “I understand,” she said, her heart so heavy it was like a stone.

Neither spoke for a long moment.

“Have you seen Mother lately?” Marcus said with a faint lift of one brow.

“Azar took me in to her yesterday morning,” Julia said in a dull voice. “It was nice to sit with her on the balcony and close my eyes and pretend things were the way they used to be.”

“She’s content.”

“So it seems. Strange, isn’t it?” Julia’s mouth jerked as she fought the tumultuous feelings. Despite his neutral conversation, she knew: He hated her and would continue to hate her whatever he said. And why shouldn’t he? She had to accept it. She almost wished her brother hadn’t come. Not seeing him had been painful enough. Seeing him and feeling the wall between them was agony.

The door opened again, and Lavinnia entered with a tray. She was smiling and talking softly to someone behind her. She paused in the doorway as she saw Marcus, her cheeks blooming with color.

Julia recognized the look. How many other household servants had fallen in love with Marcus? Hadassah had only been one of many. “Put the tray on the table, Lavinnia, thank you.” The girl quickly obeyed and departed, stepping past Azar as she entered the room.

“Lord Marcus,” Azar said. “Good afternoon.”

Her voice was warm and welcoming, drawing a smile from him. “Good afternoon, Lady Azar.”

She limped across the room and set her walking stick aside. She touched Julia’s shoulder. It was the merest brush of her fingers, but Julia relaxed as though reassured. She smiled up at the veiled woman, and Azar touched her forehead. “The fever has returned, my lady,” she said and took the damp cloth from where Julia had dropped it. She set it aside and took up a fresh one, dipping it into the bowl of cool water. Wringing it out, she dabbed Julia’s face lightly.