Moonshadows by Mary Ann Artrip Read Free Book Online Page A

firstborn, was always falling short,” she went on. “She never made any attempt to mollify him, and that seemed to make him more determined than ever to mold her into an obedient daughter—into an ideal Lancaster. When he found out she was to have a child, he flew into a rage and ordered her from her home—the only home she had ever known.”
    She fell silent again and the trembling of her thin body was clearly visible beneath the covers.
    Janet rose slowly from the chair, taking a moment to collect her thoughts and get her mind around all she’d just heard. She stepped to the side of the bed and placed an arm around the fragile shoulders. Nipping her lower lip, she cautioned herself not to become angry with the feeble little person lying there on the bed.
    “And you kept this from me all these years?”
    The old woman gave a scant nod and her head sank lower into the pillows.
    “Have you seen them? Do you know where they are?”
    Her grandmother failed to respond and Janet knew better than to press for an answer.
    She stepped back to the chair and dropped down. Imagine that , she thought, a cousin . The idea was just about the most exciting thing she’d ever heard. All this time believing that she was the last of the bunch—the end of the line. And now to find out differently. The whole idea left her mind reeling. She scooted the chair closer to the bed and reached for the cold, grasping hand.
    “Tell me about them, please.”
    The old lady roused herself. “I don’t know that I can, yet I must try. This is the reason I summoned you here this weekend.” She hesitated briefly and then seemed to find an added measure of strength. “We had such high hopes for Isabella. From the time she was born she was rebellious and insistent on having her way—it was a power thing, I think, between those two. Power was like a religion with the Lancasters. I’ve always been of a mind that there was a deficiency there somewhere, a flaw in the bloodline that came out in her and not your father. So kind and considerate was our son, so much the opposite. Nevertheless, your grandfather doted on Isabella and tended to be over-protective and demanding. As I said, he always expected too much. They clashed on a daily basis.” Her breath was rapidly depleting as she raised a bony finger and pointed toward the ceiling. “Her room was just down the corridor from his chambers.”
    “Where my art studio is now?”
    The old woman nodded. “I could hear them shouting at each other. Their voices constantly echoed throughout this house. Her father would forbid her to leave the grounds and Isabella would clatter down the stairs, insisting she would do as she pleased, and then the front door would slam.” Her lower lip quivered. “Oh, their fights were tremendous.”
    “It must have been terrible for you.”
    “When he asked her who the father of the baby was, she laughed and said she didn’t know.” Elizabeth Lancaster gave a pitiful smile. “Even if she did know—and I think most surely she did—she would’ve said she didn’t, just to set him off. He became furious and demanded that she leave his presence and the sanctity of his house. She swore, taking the Lord’s name in vain. ‘There is no sanctity in this house,’ she screamed at him.”
    Janet wanted to interrupt, to ask questions, but dared not. She sat quietly and waited.
    “He cut her off financially, refusing to help in any way.” Her eyes clouded with remembrance. “Later she rang me to say that she was in New York and was well. I suspected she needed money, and I helped her to the extent I could, without her father knowing. It wasn’t much, he held a pretty tight purse.” She closed her eyes. “Over the years, she kept in touch. I knew when the lad was born and that he had been named Etienne.”
    She gave a rueful smile. “Isabella had an affinity for anything French. The last I heard from her was about fifteen—maybe twenty—years ago.” She stared up and