Page 116 of Enslaved
In the darkness he fantasized about her, and when Morpheus did lure him to sleep, his dreams were wildly erotic. Mark searched his mind relentlessly for someone to question, for someplace to investigate, for something he had overlooked. He knew he was becoming obsessive, but until he found her, he would know no peace.
Diana, too, had come to focus all thought upon one thing. She knew she must have been confined for more than a month, for every instinct told her that she was with child. She lived in dread of the day one of her attendants discovered her secret. It had nothing to do with the shame that was heaped upon a female who bore a child out of wedlock. If she had not been incarcerated, she would have rejoiced that she was bearing Mark’s child. But every instinct told her that if the doctor discovered her condition, her baby would be in danger.
They would never allow her to keep it, and indeed, even she herself did not want her child living in a madhouse. But the fear that they would separate her from her baby and give it away terrified her. But even worse than that was the fear that the evil Dr. Bognor might give her a drug to rid her of the baby in order to save them all a great deal of trouble.
The Earl of Bath pored over his account books all morning. He had a man of business who dealt with the clerical side of the quarries and the barges that transported his beautiful stone to Bristol, but he kept a strict tally of expenses and profits, even though he found it a tedious business.
By the time he had finished, he felt caged and knew he needed a physical outlet for his excess energy. He saddled his favorite stallion, Trajan, and rode out across his lands. Mark was amazed to see that spring had arrived. He had been too preoccupied with his own dark thoughts to even notice. He felt at odds with the season. How callous that life went merrily on; that winter ended and spring brought its promise of renewal.
He moved off toward the river, drawn by a stand of copper beeches that had come into leaf. He dismounted and looked about him at the beauty of this particular spot. There was something deeply, disturbingly familiar about his surroundings. What was it he almost remembered?
His eye caught sight of an unusual object sticking up out of the soft earth of the riverbank. When he bent to examine it, his pulses speeded up. It looked like a Roman artifact, one of those writing tablets they often buried. He used his fingers to dig it out from the ancient roots of the tree. Most of the wood had rotted away, but the lead was intact.
Mark brushed away the clinging soil and clearly saw the nameMarcus.His heart began to pound as he made out other words. It definitely saidAquae Sulis,followed by the wordlaved. Yes, by God, it saysDianafollowed by the dateA.D.61.
As he held the mud-encrusted tablet in his hands he knew with a certainty he and Diana had buried it together. It had happened one glorious afternoon when they had made love, here by the river. The pain in his heart became almost unendurable.
He clenched his fists as a renewed surge of determination flooded through him. Centuries ago they had loved each other and he swore a vow that they would be lovers again.
“Hold on, Diana, I’ll come for you,” he whispered with reborn hope in his heart.
When he arrived back at the hall, Mr. Burke informed the earl that he had a visitor who had been waiting in the library for over an hour. When Mark recognized Mr. Dear-den, a shop owner, he assumed he had come regarding corporation business.
“Good afternoon, my lord. Yesterday, I had a woman come into my antique shop with a half-Caesar gold coin.”
“My God, man, was she young, blond?” the earl demanded.
“Ah, you are as excited as I was when I examined it and decided it was authentic.”
“Yes, yes. The woman. Who is she? Where does she live? I must speak with her.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, your lordship. She was a tall, well-made woman, certainly not young, but not old either. I offered her a hundred pounds, thinking she would take my arm up to my elbow for such a sum, but she was reluctant to part with the artifact. I then told her I might possibly be able to give her more after I’d consulted with a client who had a keen interest in such things.” Dearden coughed. “That was you, of course, though I was careful not to mention you by name.”
“You let her get away?” the earl demanded.
“She indicated she might be back, your lordship,” he offered lamely. “I’m very sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have bothered you until I had something definite to offer.”
“No, no! You did exactly the right thing by coming to me.” Mark ran his hand through his black hair in frustration. Disappointment followed on the heels of elation, but it was the first lead he’d had in over a month, and tenacious as a terrier, he wasn’t about to accept defeat.
“If she returns, I must know who she is. Send for me immediately or follow her yourself if necessary. The woman’s whereabouts are a thousandfold more important than securing the half-coin. I appreciate this, Mr. Dearden. You will be well paid for your services to me.”
Mark Hardwick rode into Bath immediately to make the rounds of all the antique shops. Perhaps one of them had offered more than Dearden and learned the identity of the woman. Every shopkeeper he questioned replied in the negative except one. He told the Earl of Bath that the woman walked out when he offered her fifty guineas. He had no idea who she was. The earl told every dealer that he was offering a reward for the woman’s identity and to inform him immediately if anyone came in offering to sell a half-Caesar coin.
A week went by, during which he heard nothing further. The earl could not sit idle. He again made the rounds of the coaching inns, since it was possible the woman lived out of town. Bath antique shops were famous for their Roman artifacts and that was what had drawn the woman. The drivers had many female passengers, but they could not recall any who had asked about antique shops.
Deep down, Mark felt that if he was patient, someone would see the woman again. The trouble was that patience wasn’t one of his virtues. His hopes were dimming hourly, when suddenly Fate smiled upon him.
A strange woman came to Hardwick Hall and asked if it was possible to speak with the Earl of Bath. Mr. Burke led her to the cheery breakfast room, where large windows let in the sunlight and purple crocus and paper white narcissus bulbs bloomed in earthen pots on the windowsills, and then left to summon his master.
Mark Hardwick took a deep breath before he went in to her. Though he had the inclination to put his pistol to the woman’s head, he knew intimidation would get him nowhere at this point.
“Good morning, Mrs.…” His eyebrows raised in question.
“My name is of no matter, my lord. I was told you collected Roman artifacts.” “Indeed I do, madam.”
“I know someone who has a Roman coin for sale, or I should say a half-coin. I believe it bears the head of Caesar.”
Mark’s heart soared. With studied nonchalance his fingers drew forth his own half-coin from about his neck. “Is it anything like this?”
