Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(71)

“He won't want to see me,” Julia said, her insides drawn as tightly as violin strings.

“That's not true. He's been asking for you.”

“Why?” she asked warily. “If he wants to express his opinion that I've ruined my life and disgraced the family, I'm already aware—”

“Give him a chance,” Eva murmured. “He's been through an ordeal, Julia, and he wants to see his only child. I don't know what he wishes to say to you, but I entreat you to go to him in the spirit of forgiveness.”

Julia hesitated before replying. “I'll try.”

Eva shook her head ruefully. “If you only knew how like him you are. I believe you love him in spite of everything, but you won't set aside your pride long enough to admit it.”

“I do love him,” Julia admitted defiantly, “but that doesn't erase the things that have been said and done. Love doesn't keep people from hurting each other.”

They were both silent as they ascended the stairs together. “Would you like to freshen up in your room?” Eva asked.

“I'd prefer to see him right away,” Julia replied. She was too nervous to wait, and her tension built with each minute that passed. “That is, if Father is strong enough.”

Eva accompanied her to Edward's room. “Julia…” she said gently, “you must allow for the fact that people can change. Even your father. It's frightening to come so close to dying. I believe it made Edward face some events in his past that he has tried to ignore for years. Please be kind to him, and listen to what he has to say.”

“Of course. I'm hardly going to rush into his sickroom and start hurling accusations, Mama.”

Julia stopped at the doorway, waiting as Eva entered the room. Her mother's slender form was silhouetted against the strip of sunlight that had managed to slip through the lemon-colored window curtains. Bending over the lean form stretched out on the bed, Eva touched Edward's hair and murmured quietly.

As she watched the scene, Julia was troubled by her own lack of emotion. Her heart was blank and numb, unmarked by grief or even anger. She couldn't seem to summon any feeling for her father, and it bothered her profoundly.

Eva looked up and gestured for Julia to enter. Slowly she crossed the threshold and approached the bed, where her father lay shadowed beneath the chintz canopy. All at once a rush of feeling came, a tide of remorse and sympathy that overwhelmed her. Edward had always been a powerful figure, but he seemed small and solitary as he lay in bed with the covers pulled to his shoulders. The robust quality he had possessed in abundance had fled, leaving him immeasurably older. There was a waxen look about his skin, the result of having recently been bled by the physician.

Carefully Julia sat on the edge of the mattress. She took his hand, feeling the skin move too easily over the long bones. He had lost weight. She pressed his hand as hard as she dared, wishing she could impart some of her vitality to him.

“Father,” she said softly. “It's Julia.”

A long time passed, and his pale lashes lifted His eyes were as bright and acute as always as they took measure of her. Julia had never known her father to experience a single moment of awkwardness—he was always in command of any situation. Strangely, however, he seemed to share her uncertainty, searching in vain for words.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice alarmingly thready. His hand twitched, and for a split second Julia thought he meant to draw it away. Instead his fingers closed more firmly over hers. It was the most affection he had shown to her in years.

“I thought you might have me ejected from the house,” Julia said with a self-conscious smile.

“I thought you might not come.” Edward sighed, his chest moving in a shallow rise and fall. “I wouldn't have blamed you.”

“Mama told me how ill you've been,” Julia murmured, retaining his hand. “I could have told her and the doctor that you were too stubborn to let a mere fever get the best of you.”

Laboriously her father tried to prop himself up in bed. Eva moved forward to assist him, but Julia was already pushing a nearby pillow behind him. Edward gave his wife an enigmatic glance. “My dear…I would like to speak to Julia alone.”

Eva smiled faintly. “I understand.” She disappeared from the room with wraithlike grace, leaving father and daughter to confront each other.

Withdrawing to a nearby chair, Julia stared at Edward with a perplexed frown. She couldn't imagine what he wanted to tell her, after all the arguments and bitter feelings between them. “What is it?” she asked quietly. “Do you wish to talk about my professional life or my personal one?”

“Neither,” her father said with an effort. “It's about me.” He reached for a glass, and Julia filled it with fresh water from a small porcelain pitcher. Carefully he sipped the cool liquid. “I've never told you about my past. There were…details about the Hargates that I failed to mention.”

“Details,” Julia repeated, her fine brows quirking. The history of the Hargates was basic and uncomplicated. It was a family of moderate prestige and considerable wealth, ambitious to gain the high social status that could only be gained by intermarriage with blood even bluer than their own.

“I told myself it was necessary to protect you from the truth,” Edward said, “but that was pure cowardice on my part.”