All My Broken Dreams (Locksley Hall #1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

T wo weeks had passed since that terrible night. Deacon had been summoned to cope with her hysterics. He had taken the news of Harry’s suicide with the stoicism of a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour therapist. Nothing rattled him. He drove her home and after consulting with Mrs. Cameron, he gave her a sedative to help her sleep. She found him sleeping in the chair when she woke up the next afternoon. Mrs. Cameron said he never left her side.

But it was Casey and Lord Manderville that Robbie relied upon in the dark days that followed. Her mother had to be informed. Funeral arrangements had to be made. Harry’s body had to be shipped back to the States once the Procurator Fiscal finished his investigation.

That was the worst day.

The PF was a natty man of middle age. He sat across a table from her in a nondescript office to deliver the awful news that Harry had jumped from a tower on the Isle of Arran to his death. The finding of suicide was inevitable. But there was more.

Harry had killed a homeless man before taking his life.

“There appeared to be a struggle. It could be that your brother was attacked and in defending himself, the other man died. We don’t have his identity at this time, but we are satisfied there was no connection between the two men.”

A solicitor for the Stewart family was present. While Robbie sat there in shock, this other man–also middle-aged–was quick to defend his recently deceased client. He asserted that the broken bones and head wound on the vagrant could have occurred accidentally from a fall down the stairs, and that there was no conclusive evidence that Harry Listowel had taken part in the beating death of the man.

“He was beaten to death?” She shook her head. “No, no, no–that’s not Harry. My brother was not violent. He played football but he was like the gentlest player they had. You have this all wrong.”

“I’m afraid the evidence is conclusive, Miss Listowel,” the official said, packing up his papers. “If the vagrant’s death was accidental then, in the absence of a suicide note, we have no explanation for why your brother took his own life. Those who knew him said he was healthy, in good spirits and had not expressed suicidal thoughts.”

“He was the sane one in the family,” she said weakly. “I don’t know why he would do this.”

“I wish I had a definitive answer for you, but based on the evidence gathered at the scene, an altercation of some kind happened with two deaths being the unhappy result. Please accept my condolences. Thank you for coming in.”

The body of her wonderful, brilliant, sweet, funny, gentle brother was released to be sealed in a coffin and flown home.

The red tape around that one act was overwhelming. Lord Manderville pulled every string he had to expedite the process.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it was that she realized she hadn’t seen Deacon for awhile. He left before she woke up and came home late. Manderville sent a car every morning to drive her to the numerous appointments she had to settle her brother’s estate.

Deacon became a ghost, a being she could hear moving through the building and spoken about, but never seen. One morning, she tried to corner him before he could leave and he deftly managed to avoid conversation.

“When can I see you?” she’d demanded. “I have so much to tell you.”

He said he had to work late and there was an excuse about how busy it got before the Christmas break, but he’d try to make it home that night.

He didn’t. Mrs. Cameron said she saw him taking his dinners in the cafe. Robbie tried not to feel hurt.

Casey was helpful and kind, and he did one thing that she really needed help with–he introduced her to the two girls who were at the Fuil Bratach meeting that Robbie had crashed. They were called Wulven and Raven, but their real names were Penelope and Millicent.

They showed up one afternoon to take her shopping for the clothes she needed to wear to the funeral. Her brain wasn’t working at all, to the point that she didn’t even feel anxious when she went outside. All she felt these days was numb.

There were going to be two funerals–one in Scotland for his friends and family and one in New York. They insisted on shopping for both. Penelope was cooler with her than Millicent but Robbie was too shell-shocked to care.

Sarah didn’t want to know anything about the Scottish funeral even though it was her family who were going to be in attendance. She didn’t want to know anything about Alastair Manderville either.

“I have an appointment with the solicitor after the funeral,” Robbie told her. “It’s about Harry’s trust fund. Did you know there was a trust fund?”

Sarah had declined to comment, apparently resolved to take yet another secret to her grave rather than sharing it with her daughter. The only thing her mother would comment on was how bitterly disappointed she was in Robbie’s failure to bring her brother home.

“If you had kept looking for him, refusing to give an inch instead of letting yourself be distracted, you might have found Harry in time. He shouldn’t have been alone in that place. What was he doing there anyway? Did you even bother to find out? Why was he on an island? Has anyone asked these questions? I need answers, Rowena. You swore to me that you could do this–I trusted you! I will never forgive myself for that. You should have found him. You should have brought him home.”

The words stung, cut her to the bone because everything her mother said was true. The call broke her. She couldn’t stop crying. Everytime she thought she had pulled herself together, she’d break down again.

Deacon rapped on her door. “Robbie?”

She wiped her eyes but didn’t answer.

“I can hear you crying in there. Come on, Robbie. Let me in.”

She unlocked the door. He took one look at her and she crumpled into his arms.

“Where have you been?” she wailed. Her nose was running. “I needed you and you just abandoned me. You said you’d be here if I needed you and now I don’t know if I can trust you. I thought we were–I thought we were friends at least. You don’t want to spend time with me anymore, I get it, but I thought we were friends.”

She was bawling and wiping her eyes while he rocked her, holding her tight against his chest.

“We are friends. I’ve had a lot of shifts to cover this month. Everyone wants time off for Christmas shopping and shit. I’m the only custodian with no family. It falls on me to cover for the guys with kids. But that’s not why you’re crying. What’s going on?”

“My mother blames me for Harry’s death.”

He didn’t say anything, which she appreciated.

“She’s right.” Robbie pressed a balled up tissue against her eyes.

“She’s not right. You know she’s not. She’s angry and hurt. She’s in pain and lashing out. You don’t deserve to be the target. You couldn’t have saved Harry.”

“If I kept looking as soon as I got here, I might have found him. I should have pushed for answers when I arrived. Instead, I–”

“You can say it. Instead of pushing for answers, you were with me.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were recovering from a dislocated shoulder after being attacked. Harry would be bloody proud of you. Anyway, your mom is wrong. He was dead before your plane touched down at Edinburgh Airport.”

“What?” She sat up. “Who told you that? I was not told this.”

“My uncle was able to find out as near as possible the date of the accident. It happened the day before you arrived. There were witnesses who saw Harry on the Isle of Arran hours before his death. His body wasn’t found until much later. It’s an isolated place, designed for solitude and reflection. It’s not frequented by the locals.”

“What about the other body? The man who was killed?”

“His injuries are in line with a guy who took a tumble down the stairs. Whether Harry was responsible for that, we don’t know. Alastair is not going to allow him to be accused without proof, but it is possible they fought and the man took a fall over the railing of the balcony to the stone floor. It’s a hell of a drop. It is the only explanation we have for why Harry jumped.”

“That’s what the investigator said.” She sighed and leaned her head against Deacon’s shoulder. “I just needed to hear it from a person I trusted. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“How are the cats doing?”

He laughed. “The kittens are growing like weeds. Another week or so and I’ll have to find homes for the lot. The mother will go to a shelter. I’d take her in but no animals in this building.”

“We don’t have to avoid each other,” Robbie said. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be here. I have to stick around for this trust fund business–no idea what it’s about but the solicitor said there might be papers to sign. Once that’s done, I’ll be going home.”

“You’re the one with the busy schedule, running off to town with the elite crowd for shopping trips. I heard about the outing from Casey. See? I told you your life was about to change. You’re in thick with the mucky-mucks.”

She inhaled his scent. “I don’t like the change so far. Penelope has a chip on her shoulder. Millicent seems nice … but they aren’t quite real if you know what I mean.”

“Do you think that could ever happen to you? That you could lose who you are now?”

“And become like one of them? If I had their money and looks, maybe. They were born to another life, Deacon. What are they called–the originals? I can’t even imagine having that kind of pedigree. I’m a commoner.”

Robbie took Deacon’s hand. It was warm and broad and strong. “You have the hands of a laborer but you’re one of them too. I saw your family name etched in one of the beams in the dining hall. Your family is an original. Did it change you?”

He laughed and she liked the way the sound rumbled deep within his chest. “All it’s done is to make me too proud. I’m easily provoked. I’ve been accused of having a quick temper.”

She remembered Casey’s description of a violent Deacon, and the scene in the alley when he pummeled her attackers. There was a side to him that she felt simmering near the surface, like there was a pin that, if pulled, would detonate.

Robbie shivered and pushed the image away.

“We won’t change, Deacon. No matter what happens, we two will remain as we are now.”