Chapter 9
Her eyes widened, at his words. "Barnabas, no!" she gasped, a hand rising to her throat. "Are you certain..." Horror and despair, edging her voice.
She would never have expected this, in a million years. She'd so hoped, that this time, he would remain free. She felt the old fury at Angelique, swell within her, and again, wondered how he could ever profess to "love" her. But that was beside the point now.
"Yes, Julia," he responded through a grimace. "I have reason to know."
"When were you certain?"
"It began, slowly, six weeks ago," he began, moving away from her a little.
Julia noticed that he leaned slightly more on his cane, as if needing it for support. "A feeling of fatigue, during the day, and a feeling of restlessness during the night. A marked loss of appetite. Other changes began to follow; my vision deteriorated during the day, but my night vision improved greatly. Hearing has sharpened, and so has my sense of smell.
Bright sunlight is uncomfortable, and now, the dawn is almost impossible to watch. Then, two nights ago, the pain started," he turned to her, fearfully. "I've had it before...when my father chained me in the coffin." He hissed in breath, his face paling, and his hand gripped the cane, fiercely.
Julia went to his side, and guided him to the sofa. He's free hand clutched hers, as the spasm coursed through him. "Tonight is the worst it's been," he said through gritted teeth. "I didn't...know who else...to go to…"
"How did you even manage to drive here, like this!" she wanted to know, alarmed by his symptoms, and the obvious pain he was in.
"I...managed..." he muttered, between clenched teeth. His free hand, released hers, and balled into a fist, the knuckles turning an alarming white.
"It's a miracle you even got here…why didn't you call me?"
"...Philip..."
"Had no right to say what he did. If I had known sooner...You're always welcome here, Barnabas. Now, you can't go back to Collinsport like this. I need to run some tests, anyway, so you're better off here. You're in too much pain, right now, so the tests will have to wait, until tomorrow. I have a spare room, in my apartment that you can use, for tonight."
He turned to her, his pain, forgotten slightly, as the weight of her words, sank in. "Julia, is that wise?" he asked, doing his best to ignore the pain.
She looked at him, puzzled. "Wise?" she questioned. "Letting you drive off into the night, in the condition you're in, isn't wise, Barnabas. Staying here is the wisest and the best option available."
He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. He turned to face her. "Is it appropriate?" he tried again, to make her see what her offer might look like.
She smiled, finally understanding. "Barnabas, after all the times, I've stayed at the Old House, you're suddenly concerned about propriety. I'm inviting you into my home, Barnabas, the same as you did."
He looked down at the carpet, his jaw clenching. "I meant with Philip."
Confused, she frowned. "Philip? What has he got to do with it?"
Barnabas looked up, her attitude puzzling him. Then, with a difficulty he never thought possible, he forced out the words, "You are soon to be engaged, Julia. He's feelings have to be considered..."
"Philip and I, are not engaged, Barnabas. Nor am I planning to, in the future," she replied, leaving no doubt in his mind, that he had just put his foot in it, once more, with Montgomery.
"But he has asked you to marry him?" he pushed, watching her carefully.
Now it was her turn to look down. She raised a hand, and began playing with her necklace. What was Philip up to? She had warned him about interfering with Barnabas; why couldn't he leave things alone? She knew that he blamed and disliked Barnabas, for what he had done...or thought he had done. His only saving grace was that he didn't know all the facts. But that wasn't enough to totally exonerate him, in his underhandedness, in deliberately leading Barnabas on.
Finally she faced Barnabas again, knowing in her heart that she would help him to overcome this, just as she always had. She loved him, and nothing would or ever could, change it. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "He has asked me to marry him, but I have yet to give him my answer. He's being presumptuous, and he had no right, nor any reason, to tell you otherwise. Barnabas, right now, all that matters, is getting you well again. Come."
It was the first time that he had been to her apartment, and he looked around her spare room, with a sense of awkwardness. Her admission that Montgomery had spoken out of turn had bolstered his spirits. Perhaps the distance between them could be healed, with time. He was willing to admit, to himself, at least, that he had missed her, since she had left Collinwood; or even begin to understand the impact she had had on his life.
He heard her return, his new improved hearing, for now an advantage. He allowed a small smile to touch his lips, before a spasm of pain engulfed him.
Julia entered the room, carrying a pair of men's pyjamas. She handed them over to him, with a bemused expression. "I got this from down the hall. They should fit."
He took them silently, still feeling awkward in her home. This was her domain, and it showed. He wondered how she could appear so comfortable at the Old House, or Collinwood, as if she belonged there. She moved about with an ease, he could only envy; she made the place her own.
"...give you something for the pain, when you've finished dressing..." he heard her say, breaking into his thoughts. She turned to leave; to allow him to undress, when he's voice stopped her.
"Thank you, Julia."
She kept her back to him, not wanting him to see the tears that sparkled, unshed in her eyes. She would never get used to him being in pain or discomfort, and once more her anger towards the woman who had caused so much death and misery, swelled within her.
"You don't have to thank me, Barnabas," she said, grateful that her voice was steady.
Ten minutes later, when she returned to the room, he was sitting on the bed, waiting for her. He grimaced, as the painkiller entered his bloodstream. As he finally drifted off to sleep, he muttered under his breath, which she barely caught. "...not too late..."
