Author's note: Some chapters may seem brief. It's easier for me to write shorter chapters, especially since I sometimes don't feel like writing.
“What is this place?” I asked as soon as my feet returned to earth. We touched down in the middle of a long driveway lined on either side by beech trees. I stared up in awe. “I thought we were going to Dublin,” I said, confused.
Joshua urged me to follow, the wind whipping the familiar tousled locks. “We are in Northern Ireland. Call it a brief… detour.” He walked ahead of me, telling a story about how the druids practiced human sacrifice. “They say those guilty of theft or other offenses were preferable as sacrificial victims. But when they couldn’t find a criminal, an innocent would be used in his stead.”
“Josh, please,” I pleaded. “Why are you telling me this?”
“They also say they used to burn their victims alive in an enormous wooden effigy.”
“Joshua!”
He drew to a halt and calmly explained what he was trying to say. “In many ways, Anjuli’s death was similar to those poor souls. She was sacrificed, Anne.”
“Why?” I breathed, wanting this nightmare to end. I confided in him about the bog. “The men just left her there!”
“I know.”
I wanted to cry and could not. “She’s still there, isn’t she?”
My brother nodded grimly. “She was still alive, Anne. She was still alive when they buried her.”
“How?” I gasped, struck by the horror of it. “Her skull was shattered.”
“She still breathed. Not much. But still.” Joshua sounded angry, startling me. He’d never been given to outbursts of anger, always laughing, always the life of the party. “They didn’t even think to check!”
“I saw it all, Josh. They drove away and let the tide finish burying her.”
“Well,” he said finally, kicking absently at errant pebbles, “I don’t think I need to tell you where those good gentlemen ended up.”
“I don’t want to know,” I said with a shudder, walking beside him through the beech tree tunnel. Moonlight filtered softly between their wizened branches. “But where are we? Joseph only had the flat in Dublin.”
“That’s what he told Anjuli,” my brother sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wore a pair of brown woolen trousers, a white shirt, and his favorite suspenders. “When his father cut him off, he had a choice of two properties. One was the flat in Dublin. And the other…” His voice trailed off. “Look over there.”
“Two properties?” I repeated stupidly, not comprehending what he was saying. “How can that be? He blamed her for their lack of money.”
“Look,” my brother commanded. “Then you may understand.”
Shrugging, I squinted into the distance, forgetting I no longer needed my spectacles. “Oh!” I cried, relieved when the house came into view. “That’s no house! It looks like a castle!”
“It is. Or at least it was.”
We drew closer, our feet lightly trampling the damp blades of new grass. Joshua instructed me to halt, and we stood staring at a crumbling relic from the 14th century. There were two towers, a turret, and the gatehouse. “Where did they live?”
“There are apartments in that tower there.” He pointed and suddenly we were beside a blazing hearth. I looked around, finding fur rugs and various pieces of weathered furniture. “Joseph’s grandfather bequeathed this property to him upon his death.”
I whirled about in shock. “He could have brought her here and didn’t?” I cried angrily. “Why on earth not?”
“He was ashamed of her, Anne.”
“Ashamed...?”
Joshua nodded. “It seems shallow and petty, doesn’t it? But that was Joseph. His father had no choice but to cut him off.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. “He let her live in that hovel just to save face? Is that what you are telling me?”
“It was a different time back then,” Joshua said unconvincingly. “Breeding and social graces. It was all they thought about. Think of Aunt Cecilia.”
“I try not to,” I grumbled, still smarting from her callous disregard. “I don’t understand, Josh. The flat was in the city. Why not stash her here in the country?”
“He couldn’t. His father threatened him. Said if he brought her here, he’d never forgive him. Sometimes, a father’s approval is more important than the girl you professed your undying love to.”
“But he could have brought her here,” I pointed out. “She was ill most of the time, Josh. No one would have known.”
“Joseph was selfish, Anne. All he thought about was his father’s money. He begged and pleaded, to no avail. His father refused. Said if he even thought of using his grandfather’s property, he’d make certain he wouldn’t have two shillings to call his own.”
Tears filled my eyes at the thought of a father’s spite. “If Joseph truly loved her…”
“What did he know of love?” Joshua countered. “What do any of us know? We live and grow old, Anne. It’s the only way we learn. Joseph was coddled by a childishly stupid woman, indulged by his father, and lived in the shadow of his brother. He never thought of anyone but himself.”
“Even when Anjuli was carrying his children?”
“Think it mattered? By then, the novelty had worn off. She was nothing but a yoke around his neck. Sad but true.”
“I cannot believe it.” I poked at a faded crewel bedspread, hating the contrasting colors of red and yellow. “Why not ask his brother for help?”
Joshua eyed me as though I’d uttered a foul word. “Really, Anne? Michael may have given her money, but he wanted nothing to do with either of them.”
“That’s not true!” I cried. “He wanted her back.”
“Did he?”
The air changed, and we were in a room full of old clothing and rotting furniture. Joshua strolled the length of the room and threw a log into the fireplace. “Michael only sought to assuage his guilt. He thought if he threw enough money her way, he’d be free of her.” The room soon grew warm, but I could not feel the heat. And, as I gazed down at my hands, I thought how lonely she must have been. “Michael had met someone and wanted a divorce.”
“So, the money was a bribe?”
“In a manner of speaking. He didn’t want it to be painful and was trying to come up with a way to tell his wife.”
“How considerate of him,” I muttered, thinking it might have been better had Anjuli given up on both Havelock men and returned to India. “Why didn’t she leave? She had the money.”
“Not really. Joseph took most of what his brother sent for himself. She was lucky if she had enough to pay the rent. His father was practical, if not mercenary.”
“I think I hate them both.”
Joshua agreed. “They were not honorable men. Sometimes I wonder if Joseph did not hate the poor girl.”
“I think he did.”
“Anne?” Joshua said after a moment. “What I have to show you is—”
“Distressing?”
“Yes.”
“For you or for me?”
“A little of both, actually.” He held out his hand. “You don’t have to see if you don’t want to.”
I hesitated, knowing if I did not bear witness to the tragic events that led to Anjuli’s death, I would never find peace. I took a deep breath and then my brother’s hand. “Show me.”
What our eyes saw in the next few moments remained with me until the day I closed mine...
Forever.
