Chapter Sixty Six
"Please watch my son," Lila had pleaded to Ximena, "Take him to his nursery and give him to his Nanny. Please don't leave him. I have to do something."
Ximena looked at her in confusion.
"I don't have anyone I can trust. Please. My heart pleads with you,"
She nodded and took the baby upstairs.
—-&—-
Branch looked out to make sure Ximena had gone. She had scared him with her fierce temper.
He walked across to the study. He found the door locked, "What the hell? Lila? Are you in there?"
She did not answer him.
She took the trust papers signed by JD about James's custody, all five copies, and put them into the fireplace. She watched them burn quickly in the fireplace.
"There. If he dies, there is no proof of what he wanted for James. Every copy gone,"
The unsigned Canadian marriage license scared her. Lila read it three times. It was not properly filled out but it had a seal on it. She folded it carefully and put it in her chatelaine pocket. She left her keys to the house on the settee so the paper would fit.
She felt tears of relief roll down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Quietly she tiptoed over to the safe.
Lila looked carefully through the contents: Maris's jewels, stocks, gold and silver bars. She opened an envelope near the pack.
"Ten, one-thousand dollar bills." she gasped.
Branch was still jiggling the door and she took another glance at it over her shoulder.
She quickly took the ten thousand dollars and stuffed them in her corset. She added the plain envelope to the fire and watched it burn. Footsteps outside alerted her to a servant coming to open the door.
Lila arranged herself on the floor; she mussed her own hair and bit her bottom lip until it bled.
She closed her eyes and listened as Branch and the servant entered. She let out a soft moan. They immediately ran to her behind the settee.
"She must have fainted in distress."
Branch narrowed his eyes in suspicion but the bloody lip seemed to look real. He helped her up and put her on the settee.
"Are you alright?"
"My head—how is JD?"
"Doctor still hasn't made it. His manservant is with him. And that family member? Who is he, Lila?"
"Uh, my head, I need some uh, uh water."
The servant poured her a glass which she sipped. Branch dipped his handkerchief in and dabbed the blood off her chip.
"What a lovely woman you are, Lila. Too bad wasted on those old cold hands."
—&—
"Think David think—" he repeated over and over in his head.
He stood on the landing outside his father's bedroom suite. His manservant was getting him settled into bed. He shivered thinking of all the arguments held in this home and back east.
He looked at the snow piling up outside and knew they should leave soon in order not to be trapped. "I have been stuck here for days because of the weather when I was younger. Listening to endless haranguing and lecturing about my life. Baby brother, I hope you outlive the old coot."
David walked to the nursery door and tapped. The nanny answered through the door and refused him entry. Ximena heard his voice and unlocked the door.
"It's fine. He's James's family."
The baby was still firmly attached to her side. David ruffled his black curls and rubbed his finger across his rosy cheek.
"You look like your Mother,"
The Nanny viewed them with suspicion. She was loyal to Lila and they had her permission to be here but JD paid her salary.
"How is he?"
"Unconscious. I hazard to say a stroke, an apoplexy. His servant was readying him for the doctor."
Baby James reached out to David.
He stepped back. Ximena looked into his eyes, "He won't bite."
"Honestly, I have never held a little bundle."
She handed baby James to David; he gently held him with awkwardness.
"Relax my love."
He slowly moved his shoulders and relaxed his elbows; James sensed the slack and kicked his feet in glee. He started a belly chuckle and reached for David's full beard. The nanny eased up on her watch and allowed herself to smile at the scene, Ximena looked on in proud love,
"Hey little man," he said softly.
They interacted and cuddled with the little boy. He would coo and giggle at David's attempts of getting his beard out of his chubby fingers.
A knock on the door broke up the family moment,
"The doctor is here, sir."
—-&—-
David and Branch paced outside the bedroom. Branch would ask questions of David and he would just respond with one-word answers or ignore him completely.
He was becoming quite agitated at the lack of information besides family that the much larger man would divulge.
David's dark eyes would stare straight through the young attorney and he would look away. He was intimidating—that wife of his was outright tempestuous. She frightened him with her fury and bluster of Spanish curse words.
The doctor came out after an hour, "Mrs Autonberry? Next of kin?"
Branch interjected, "She is unwell. Weak from the shock. I am his attorney."
David's voice lowered, " I AM his next of kin."
The doctor looked man to man, "Well it is touch and go. He is barely awake. If he makes it through the day and night? He is paralyzed on his left side. An apoplexy."
"Can I see him," David asked.
"Yes, but keep him calm."
The men quietly walked into the dark bedroom of mahogany paneling and drawn brocade drapes.
David sat on one side of the golden platform bed; Branch on the other. A few minutes passed.
JD opened his eyes and saw Branch first. His eyes were filled with the frustration of the loss of speech.
"Sir? Sir? Do you want me to take over Autonberry Assets until you feel better?"
JD shook his head no.
David literally made a soft growl at the audacity of the man.
Branch was taken aback but JD's head jerked toward the sound. He recognized that sound and he blinked his eyes several times trying to focus on the man with the full black beard beside him.
They locked eyes and recognition filled JD's terrified eyes. He shook in fear. He tried to scream but no words came out but a strained gurgle.
In his addled mind, he saw a demon, a bearded man with David's voice, "He is dragging me to hell."
crossed his consciousness for a moment.
"Yes, it is me," without any malice or anger.
Just soft recognition of the old man's trepidation. And a hint of relief that these wounds might finally heal.