An Anne Perry Christmas_ Two Holiday Novels - Anne Perry [77]
“Maybe someone else had already found the Viking hoard and knew what it would be worth,” Henry pointed out. “Colgrave didn't, or he would have asked a far larger sum.”
“And Gower believes it was Judah.” Her voice was somber and tight with strain. “Perhaps he really didn't do it, is that possible? Without knowing it, Judah sent an innocent man to prison!”
“Yes, it is possible.” He loathed admitting it. “Of course it is also possible that he is as guilty as sin of killing Judah,” he added. “Somebody did. No one else we know had a reason—except the real forger.”
“Perhaps Gower has enemies, too?” she suggested. “He's a most disagreeable man. Is it possible he is the real intended victim, and Judah is only the means they use?”
“Yes, of course it is. And I don't know where we would even begin to look for them!”
She bent her head. “This is terrible!” she said in a whisper. “We have to know! Don't we?”
“I think so. Could you rest with it unanswered?”
“I don't know. It doesn't matter for me. When it's over, when we've silenced Gower, I'll go back to America again. I have the excitement, the discovery, the sheer blazing beauty of it. There is a magic to the unknown like nothing else.” Her voice was filled with vitality.
It reminded Henry of Ephraim when he had spoken of Africa and the wild beauty of that country, too. Again he wondered why Naomi had chosen the safer Nathaniel with his softer ways.
“Do you miss it?” he asked aloud.
“I've been too busy to, so far,” she said honestly.
“We will have to tell them the possibility that the deeds were changed,” he said as they came to the end of the lawn and looked across at the glimmering light on the lake, visible only as movement, like black silk in the wind.
“I know. Antonia will be terribly hurt, as if we have suddenly abandoned her.” She sighed. “Benjamin will be confused, but I think he can't be utterly shocked. He's too clever not to have thought of it, even if only to deny it.”
“And Ephraim?” he asked, knowing she would find that the hardest to answer.
She hesitated before she spoke. “He'll be angry. He'll think we have betrayed Judah. He doesn't forgive easily.”
Henry looked at her, the little of her face he could see in the starlight, but all he could glean from her was the emotion he heard in her voice. Was it in general she thought Ephraim did not forgive, or was there some specific sin she spoke of? Had Nathaniel really been her first choice, or was he second, and she would not now make a decision, even for her own happiness, which she felt betrayed him? She had used the word herself, referring to Ephraim's emotions.
He asked, even though it was intrusive. “You speak as if you know him well, and I can't help seeing his feelings for you.”
She smiled. “You are wondering why I married Nathaniel, when Ephraim also asked me?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Because love is more than passion and excitement, Mr. Rathbone. If you trust your life and your love to someone, you need to admire their courage, and Ephraim has any amount of that. But if you are going to live with them every day, not just the good ones, but the bad ones as well, the difficult ones when you fail, make mistakes, feel bruised and afraid, you need to be certain of their kindness. You need someone who will forgive you when you are wrong, because you will be wrong sometimes.”
He did not interrupt. They stood side by side looking toward the water. It was cold and very clear, the stars tiny, glittering shards of light in the enormity of space.
“Ephraim has not been wrong often enough to understand,” she said almost under her breath.
“It seems to me you are not wrong very often, either,” he observed. “And yet you have a gentleness.”
This time he saw her smile. “I have been. I look like my mother. She behaved badly. I never knew why, but I imagine sometimes how lonely she might have felt, or what made her do as she did. My father