Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive by T. Davis Bunn Page B

those who may seek to do me harm.”
    “As they do me,” he responded calmly. “A foul wind blows across the face of our earth, sir. For those who do God’s bidding, danger is but a part of the day’s burden.”
    “You are not afraid?”
    “Almost constantly, sir. But not of being in harm’s way.” Falconer had never before spoken of his internal struggles. “I fear failing my Lord. I do not deserve His gift of salvation. I never will. He reached into the world’s darkest depths to save me. I am ashamed of so much I have seen and done, sir. Mortally ashamed. All I can do now is seek to do one thing right. Just this one small thing.”
    Gareth released Falconer’s arm and used his handkerchief to wipe his face. “I see my daughter was right.”
    “Sir?”
    He needed both hands to push himself up from his chair. He nodded his thanks when Falconer rose and took his arm. Gareth said, “We shall begin preparing for our departure this very day.”

Chapter 9
    The day after they brought her home, Serafina awoke to discover the devastating chill had reached from her heart into her bones.
    A guard was now stationed outside her door. She saw him glance inside every time the door was open. Sometimes it was a footman, sometimes a maid, occasionally someone she did not recognize. Serafina never saw Carla again. It hardly mattered. Her parents visited her several times that day, and the next. They raged with her at first, then simply ordered her to talk. But what was there to say? Every time she spoke Luca’s name, they flew into a new fury. And there was nothing else Serafina wished to say.
    She stopped eating. Food held no interest. Her body felt disconnected. The hours came and went in slatted patterns of sunlight across her floor. The gloom brightened and then dispelled. The second day of her fever, Serafina heard a musical patter upon the balcony. At first she thought it was Luca’s step. But then she realized that it was just a summer storm. The sky could cry for her as she gave in to what she hoped would be her final illness.
    The fever ravaged her, and time lost all meaning. Her mother’s voice became a litany of worry. Her father came and went, moving about like a shadow. Doctors were vague shapes who probed and then softly spoke a variety of somber observations. Serafina lost the ability to focus, or perhaps simply the will. Occasionally she would weakly call for Luca, a dim echo of the keening cry in her heart. If her father was in the room, he would storm about. Sometimes her mother wept.
    But Luca never answered.
    One afternoon she awoke to discover a stranger in her room. Serafina knew it was not her mother because the hair spilling down the back of the stranger’s dress was dark. Thestranger turned around. Serafina realized it was her half sister. Gabriella moved about the room on silent feet, studying everything with an intent and satisfied air.
    Serafina must have made a small sound, because Gabriella turned toward the bed. “You’re awake. I’m so pleased.”
    Serafina had been very young when she had first realized that Gabriella genuinely detested her. The other sisters had certainly been cold to her. But Gabriella’s taunts had held a different air even then. Now she wore the expression Serafina had come to fear as a little girl.
    “I thought you should know,” Gabriella said. “Father is going away. And he is taking your mother with him when he goes.”
    Serafina was so weak she could not move, nor did she care to. But her thoughts were clear for the first time in days, and she realized the fever had left her. But she had no interest in speaking.
    “Away, yes. Far away,” Gabriella taunted. “To America. Father has some secret mission he must perform for the merchant council. They were supposed to have already departed. But they couldn’t, you see. Not with you causing this terrible stir. But now the merchant council has said Father cannot wait any longer. The work has become very urgent.