Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth eventually fell into an exhausted slumber and dreamed. Of the storm, the cave, the man, and far more. Of a shadowy presence nearby, watching like a spider weaving its web, observing her every move, waiting to pounce.
Of the cave, warm and welcoming, with a fire. Of a couple, he tall and dark, she petite and red haired, very much in love. With a baby. Then her own features appeared where the woman's had been. She saw a pair of lovely bracelets on her which seemed to glow with an inner fire.
And the other man? He was huge but still indistinct. All she knew was that she belonged with him. That they were meant to stand side by side, battling the encroaching darkness.
She felt a rumbling, and the fire in the cave winked out. Then all was black, choking, crushing her, apart from one streak of brightness. A lightning bolt? And then a crescent, as thin as a slivered moon in the indigo sky. Except that it was gold.
Elizabeth sat up with a sharp cry, and fell back onto the pillows in relief when she saw it was day. She rose, trembling, and poured herself some water, then stripped off her sodden nightdress. She wondered again if she had the sweating sickness, or fever. Or some sort of moonstruck madness, she thought with a wry smile.
She knew the ancient people of Ireland had had all sorts of mysterious festivals and celebrated the moon and sun as gods. Witchcraft… Who had said the word last night?
She pushed her heavy hair from her face and padded into the bathroom to have a nice long hot soak. She scrubbed herself from head to toe, trying to free herself of the miasma of the cave, or whatever it was that had infected her.
Eventually she heard the clock strike. Good Lord. It couldn't be noon already, could it? The ball tonight! She had not lifted a finger….
But Thomas and Vanessa smiled warmly at Elizabeth when she entered the small parlor some time later.
"Nothing to worry about. Parks has agreed to get every robed and masked appropriately, and send them into the ballroom. There is nothing for you to do except enjoy yourself."
Thomas hugged her. "I hope you're feeling better."
"Er, I didn't do or say anything odd or embarrassing last night, did I?"
They shook their heads. "No, nothing. We looked up and you had fainted into Will's arms. He couldn't carry you with his bad shoulder, so I grabbed you. He didn't say you had said a word. I would just forget about it. You're not to go to the beach again until it cools down. I've never known it to be so warm in September before."
"I had thought to go down to the beach-"
"The only place you're allowed to go is to Will's to see his wine cellar with Clifford and I," Thomas said firmly.
"Very well. I shall."
"I shall fetch the carriage round then."
"Oh, but we can walk."
"Not after last night you can't. Not in this heat."
"Oh, very well."
Their excursion was longer than she imagined, for Clifford enthused over every bottle, until she wandered off into one of the murky corners, hoping to find a rare bottle he had not yet spotted.
"Lady Elizabeth, what are you doing?" Will asked quietly as he found her staring at a rack on the far side of the room.
"Nothing. Just looking for hidden treasures, unique vintages, you know," she said as she watched his face undergo an alarming transformation for a brief second.
"Come. I would not wish you to have another fainting spell in this damp place. Plus the floors are so uneven. It would be dreadful for you to turn an ankle and miss the ball. I understand that Parks has engaged you for the first waltz, but I should like the second, if you would do me the honor."
"No, Parks never asked me. He may have intended to, but-"
"He will be too busy in the parlor getting everyone ready. Consider the first waltz yours," Thomas said.
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly. The identities must be kept secret."
"Nonsense. Elizabeth will not be competing for prizes at her own ball. Have the dance with her, lad."
"Yes, I should be delighted, Mr. Joyce," she said sincerely.
"Very well, then, if you're sure."
"I am." She smiled up at him.
He shivered with desire, and tried to catch his breath. "In that case, I would be greatly honoured." His gloves on securely, he took her elbow and led her up to his drawing room, a typical eighteenth-century floral drawing room with pale blue flock wallpaper and matching silk and gilt-edge furniture.
"Why, this house is not nearly as bad as you would have people believe," she said.
"At the risk of offending you, I have to point out that in all fairness you have not seen the sleeping chambers above, nor the roof."