Page 73 of The Phantom Duke
He turned slowly, eyes fixed on the painting. Maria was at his side as he moved towards it, watching him.
“My mother painting it. I watched her painting it. I had forgotten until now. She sat… there!”
He whirled and pointed to a point in the room flanked by two tall windows. That was the brightest point in the room. Damien strode to it and fell to his knees, his hands on the bare floorboards.
“There was always paint over these boards. It has been scrubbed away over the years. I should not have done that. It was something of her.”
Damien was looking inwardly, a door in his mind opening that had been locked since he was a boy. It had always been a dark room, filled with shadowy things that must never see the light of day. Now he knew it to be the opposite. The darkness was without, the locked room was full of light. Full of her. He smiled.
“She told me how she painted the waves to make them seem alive. How each color interacted with the other, how she introduced light. God, I remember!”
Maria was on her knees beside him, listening intently, smiling encouragingly. Damien saw her face, realized what he was doing, how much he was giving away. The smile fled from his face. He stood abruptly. Maria caught his hand, remaining on her knees.
“It seems my condition has lessened without my knowledge. That is curious, but I’m sure Simon will have a theory as to why.”
“Don’t…” Maria began, her voice breaking.
“Don’t?” Damien replied, but he did not break away from her touch.
“Don’t shut me out again. I can only bear it so many times.”
Damien felt a flare of sympathy, a guilt at the pain he was causing her. He stepped on that sympathy brutally, attempting to crush it from existence.
“You now know more about me than any other living person. I feel that you are well within my keep.”
“It is just that I expect the gates to slam shut at any moment.”
Damien took a deep breath, looking into Maria’s eyes.
“Walls do not necessarily exist to keep intruders out. They can be used to keep something in,” he said, quietly.
“And what do you keep imprisoned that I am in such danger of?”
“A very real curse that a thin piece of leather protects you from,” Damien said, tapping the mask.
“You hide behind that, I think,” Maria accused him.
“I state facts. I did not ask you to ride dangerous roads alone at night,” he said.
“Nor did I! I was on a mission of mercy. Had I been able to reach Bedlam and return to Willow Street without ever setting foot in Winterleigh, I would have done so. The evil of men brought me to your door. Their evil and your good.”
Damien smiled. “Good? Do you mistake opportunism for altruism?”
“Do you mistake me for a blind fool that cannot see what is plain!”
Maria rose, holding his hand in both of hers now. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks hot.
“I would never call you a fool,” Damien said, looking up at her.
“Should I simply go? Our marriage contract provided a stipend for us to settle somewhere and live modestly and quietly. Deliver it and get rid of me.”
There were tears in her eyes, but she controlled them valiantly. Her lips trembled, but she refused to let the tremors into her voice. Her hands squeezed his as though anticipating him trying to pull away from her. Damien watched her closely, holding her gaze and trying to see into her soul.
Are the eyes the windows of the soul? Then let me see the contents of hers. Let me divine the truth and be rid of this doubt forever.
Damien found that he did not want to release himself from Maria’s soft hands. When he understood this, he ripped himself from her grasp. He found that he did not want to look away from her deep eyes. Understanding he turned his back, fixing his eyes on the paintings. He found that he did not want to write a cheque and be free of her forever. He opened his mouth to agree with everything she had just said.
“No!” Damien said impulsively, then clamped his mouth shut before any more treacherous words could escape.
