CHAPTER 15.
I don’t know how long I lay on the sweet-smelling grass. After the “thing” choked me, it left. Left me lying there like one of Eileen’s broken dolls. I could not move. I could not call out for help. And I was utterly exposed to the scorching rays of the sun. As I lay in a catatonic state, I felt myself vacating my body. I floated above my human shell and flew through a black, whirling chasm. An acrid fog surrounded me as my feet sought purchase, only to find none. When I landed, I felt as though I had been hurled through a rip in the fabric of time.
This is what I saw.
Briarwood Hall stood before me in all its early 19th century glory. It appeared younger somehow, without its moldy ceiling beams and roof in a constant state of disrepair. People milled all about, their clothing that of the late Regency era. Then it changed. I witnessed the physical passage of time. Waistlines dropped, sleeves were fuller, and men were just as gallant. One such gentleman stuck out among the rest. He was tall, fair of hair and blue of eye. With him was a small, dark-haired girl with skin the color of polished bronze.
I knew immediately whom I was looking at and sought to attract their attention. But they could not hear me. I was between worlds, sensing I could look but could not interact with the past. The man was obviously smitten with the girl and she with him. They had just eloped, and she was afraid his parents would not approve.
“It was wrong,” the girl fretted, her voice small, anxious. “You were betrothed!”
“I did not love her,” her husband replied, reaching up to smooth a lock of her raven-black hair. “You worry too much, my dearest.”
“But Michael!” she cried, glancing about nervously. “What if they wish to… end the marriage?”
“End it?” he scoffed. “How? You carry our child, sweet. I daresay it would take an act of God to part us now.”
“They will think we had to get married!” she whispered, blushing profusely. “Even though I didn’t let you hold my hand until the wedding!”
He bent for her hand and kissed her wedding band. “You were a very proper bride, my love. I was smitten.”
Her eyes glowed. “And you were very dashing in your uniform.” She giggled. “I made you wait long enough, didn’t I?”
“You did,” he chuckled, slipping his arm through hers. “But come, sweet. Let me introduce you to my… brother.”
“Brother?” I breathed, following them into the house. I watched scenes play out as if I were a member of an audience watching a play. The young man was Michael Westin Havelock I, firstborn and heir to Briarwood Hall. He was also a captain in the 75th Regiment of Foot and had distinguished himself in battle more than once. He was brave, handsome, and he adored his new bride.
Her name was Anjuli Patawar.
For some reason unknown to me, I could not discern how they met or what region of India she was from. It seemed all I was required to do was watch and listen. I watched as Michael introduced her first to his horrified parents, then his younger brother. While his parents were coldly aloof and did not welcome their daughter-in-law with open arms, his brother was effusive in his affection for his new “sister.”
“She’s gorgeous!” Michael’s brother, a younger version of Colonel Havelock, said after Anjuli cried herself to sleep. They sat in Joseph’s room, sharing a brandy. “Wherever did you manage to find such an enchanting creature?”
Michael laughed. “I could not help myself, Joseph. I saw her, and that was it. I was in love.”
“And did she return the sentiment?”
“Er…” Michael looked uncomfortable. “Once she found out I was betrothed, she would have naught to do with me.”
“Then how did you—”
“I didn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We were thrown together,” Michael explained. “I was an attaché for her uncle. He’d invite me to supper. And you know what curry does to me.”
Joseph smirked. “And she played nursemaid?”
“Something like that.”
“Well,” Joseph said, glancing at his chiseled features in the mirror. “She’s remarkable. Whatever shall you tell Edwin? Father promised you’d marry his Gwendolyn.”
“I didn’t think that far ahead, old man. Why don’t you marry her for me?”
Joseph cackled wickedly, reminding me of that day in the conservatory. “That would serve me right, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, old man,” Michael apologized. “I really am. But I love her.”
“I can see that.” Joseph turned to face his brother. “Well, I will try my best to smooth Mama's and Papa’s feathers. But you may have broken the camel’s back. You know how they felt about you going off to India.”
“There was no help for it.”
I sensed deep sorrow in Michael, as if he had known the price he would pay for breaking his betrothal. “What do you think of her?” he asked suddenly. “Be honest, old man.”
Joseph frowned. “You ask me now? You knew what was going to happen before you jumped off the cliff. I love our parents, but you know as well as I that they will never see them as anything but servants.”
Michael winced. “Bloody hell! Do you have to be so crass?”
“I am being honest. You want me to tell you the sky is pink when it’s blue.”
“I do not!”
“Then why did you marry her, Michael? Did you—”
“I did no such a thing! Anjuli was a virgin before I took her to our marriage bed.”
“Then why? Surely you must have known everyone was expecting you to settle with Edwin. Gwendolyn is heartbroken.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“Will she?” Joseph muttered. “I wonder…”
I don’t know how long I was in that house. I only sensed the passage of time. Anjuli had a difficult pregnancy marred by spotting and a near miscarriage. When she was not dealing with her resentful in-laws, she was neglected by an increasingly distant spouse. Michael, as the eldest, was sent on long forays to London and to inspect the family estates in Ireland and Scotland. He rarely had time for his young bride, and that’s where the trouble began.
Michael entrusted the one person he knew to look after his bride in his stead, and Joseph took full advantage. “No more,” I pleaded to whoever was listening. I didn’t want to see what was going to happen. I could feel it careening out of control like a speeding train.
Anjuli was confined to bedrest and relied on her brother-in-law for everything. He read to her. He brought her sweets. And he fell madly in love with her. Mad was the proper term. But I believe he was obsessed. Every excuse he could think of, he would use to spend time with her. He hid Michael’s letters, stashing them in his wardrobe and lying to Anjuli that his brother was too busy to write. He flirted with her, told her things she wanted to hear, and promised he would look after her and the baby should anything happen to her husband.
“Why should anything happen?” Anjuli laughed, forever the innocent. She could not see her brother-in-law was manipulating her marriage in his favor. “Michael is busy. He told me this himself.”
“Yes, but Michael can be careless sometimes,” Joseph said, his eyes roaming greedily over Anjuli’s swollen figure. “How is it tonight? Do you want me to rub your feet?”
She blushed. “Jojo!” she cried, using his pet name. Anjuli used pet names for everyone she liked. “You are not my husband!”
“Michael gave me permission,” he lied, setting his book aside. He looked especially rakish tonight with his tumbling black curls and open collar. “You know how I adore your little feet. Let me see them.”
“No!” she gasped, dissolving into a fit of giggles. “That tickles!”
“I know.” He grinned, causing her to blush again. It was then I realized Anjuli was not indifferent to her brother-in-law’s affection and returned the sentiment. He moved and sat on the bed, reaching to touch her cheek. “You’re lovely,” he whispered.
“You mustn’t!” she whispered back frantically. “What if—”
“They won’t.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. I felt myself blushing when his lips slid across her cheek and down the slender column of her throat. “Does he kiss you like this?”
“No,” she gasped, her long lashes fluttering. “Jojo…”
“Hush, my darling.”
They kissed as lovers might do, threading fingers through hair and caressing parts of each other with a desperation that bordered on obscene. I glanced away when Joseph slid into bed with her and asked her to remove her nightgown.
Though heavily pregnant, it did not prevent the illicit lovers from lovemaking. Anjuli sighed in his arms, laying her dark head on his sturdy shoulder. “We shouldn’t have,” she mumbled against his throat.
“I’m not sorry, Anjuli. I love you. And I know you love me.”
“I do!”
“Then there is nothing wrong with two people showing how they love each other.”
“But I am Michael’s wife!”
“And I am his brother.”
“What will we do?”
His hand drifted down over her swollen belly and caressed it fondly. “Run away with me.”
“Just like that?”
To persuade her, he ran his hands along the smooth length of her until she lay gasping. “Run away with me!” he urged, spreading kisses along her cupid’s bow mouth and slender shoulders. “I’ll look after you and the baby. Michael will have to give you a divorce. Let me be your husband.”
She peered up at him in awe. “You would do this for me?”
“Of course, my little turtledove.” He lightly kissed her perfect nose. “We will wait until the baby is born. Then we’ll leave. I have a house in Dublin.”
“But they will find us,” she fretted, looking uncertain.
“Did I say the house was exactly in Dublin?”
“You mean it’s not?”
Joseph smiled and smoothed her hair. “If you weren’t carrying my brother’s baby, I’d show you what I mean.”
“Oh, Jojo!” she giggled. “You are so wicked!”
“I am,” he breathed, covering her lips with his.
I covered my eyes, no longer caring to be a witness to their illicit affair.
I didn’t know. Did not want to know.
Their affair was known to everyone except his parents.
And his brother.
They carried on until Anjuli gave birth and Joseph was there when she delivered a stillborn girl. Her husband was nowhere to be found, still in London doing God-knows-what and refusing to rush to her side.
Anjuli was inconsolable despite Joseph’s best efforts to care for her. When she was well enough to leave her sickbed, they absconded in the middle of the night. She took nothing but the clothes on her back and left her wedding band on the bedside table where the maid was certain to find it. When Michael found out his wife and brother had run away together, he was more than furious.
He was enraged.
My eyes flew open. The sun was still shining, my skin a throbbing pink. I crawled back to the house and shut the door, shocked by what I’d just witnessed. Anjuli had lied to me. All this time, I believed the colonel had hurt her. In reality, she had fallen in love with him and willfully abandoned her husband.
What eventually befell the tragic lovers was beyond anything Shakespeare could have imagined.
