The River of No Return by Bee Ridgway (best novels of all time txt) 📕

DUTTON

Published by the Penguin Group

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Copyright © 2013 by Bee Ridgway

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Ridgway, Bee, 1971–

The river of no return / Bee Ridgway.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-1-101-62431-9

1. Man-woman relationships—Fiction. 2. Family secrets—Fiction. 3. Time travel—Fiction. 4. Secret societies—Fiction. 5. Great Britain—History—19th century—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3618.I392R58 2013

813'.6—dc23 2012043510

Designed by Nancy Resnick

Title page art of branches by www.gillheeley.co.uk

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers, Internet addresses, and other contact information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Version_3

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Acknowledgments

About The Author

For Paul

PROLOGUE

Castle Dar, Devon, 1815

Julia sat beside her grandfather’s bed, holding his hand. The fifth Earl of Darchester was dying.

Heavy velvet curtains were drawn across the tall windows, but the late-afternoon sun found a thin opening and as the day grew older a narrow ribbon of light moved slowly across the floor and over the bed. Lord Percy’s breath was shallow. Julia felt life guttering in his fingers, saw death written on his beloved face. Motes of dust moved slowly in the shaft of light. Once Grandfather was dead, Cousin Eamon would be the new earl and would live here, at Castle Dar. Julia sighed, making the dust dance with her breath, then squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be calm. Time enough to worry about tomorrow’s problems.

The house was almost completely silent, except for Grandfather’s painful gasps. The sun inched up the counterpane, touching their fingers now.

The sound of hooves and jangling harness broke the spell. Julia went to the window and pushed aside a swathe of curtain with the back of her hand. Far away across the lawn, where the long drive disappeared into the wood, she saw a tired old traveling coach, piled high with luggage and drawn by a team of broken-down job horses, lurching toward the house.

“Is it Eamon?” The voice from the bed was little more than a whisper.

Julia turned back, letting the curtain fall. “Yes.”

Lord Percy closed his eyes. “I will be dead before the sun goes down. Why couldn’t he wait until morning?”

“Because he is cruel.” Julia walked back to the bed.

Only a few weeks ago Grandfather had been as hearty as an oak. But the disease that was wasting his flesh had progressed with terrifying speed. And now here was Eamon, rushing to gloat over a dying man.

Lord Percy’s hand moved anxiously on the counterpane, as if searching for something.

Julia caught it. His fingers were terribly cold. “What do you need?”

He swallowed, then whispered. What he said clearly pained him. “I can no longer protect you.”

Julia sat on the bed, raising the hand she held and kissing the knuckle above the emerald ring that once looked right on a strong hand but now seemed too big. “It is you he has tormented all these years. I mean nothing to him.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “It isn’t only Eamon. There may be others. Julia . . .” He raised his head, and his whispering grew harsh. “Tell no one anything. No one at all. You must pretend—”

“Hush.” Julia pressed his palm to the counterpane, and his head fell back against the pillows. She bent and stroked his high forehead. “I have nothing to tell. I have no secrets.”

“You have no secrets, because you don’t know.” His fierce gaze softened; he let out a long shuddering sigh and closed his eyes. “I am a fool,” he said. “A blind fool.”

“Hush now.” The sound of the approaching carriage was getting louder. “You must remain calm. He is coming.”

His eyes fluttered open. “If only I had time.”

“You have had your share of time, old man.” Julia smiled.

His lip twitched, the shadow of a grin. “I am greedy.”

“It’s not a nice trait.” She smoothed one of his eyebrows with her thumb.

“I have never been nice. I have taken what I wanted. Time, money, women.” His voice took on some of the volume it used to have when he would thunder through the house, and he raised himself to one elbow. “I have lived my life! But I have never sniveled and whined. Always I have taken what was given willingly, or I have paid with money or passion or blood. . . .” He collapsed back against his pillows. “I hate this blasted dying!”

Julia let her fingers rest against his sunken cheek. “So do I.”

Together they listened to the carriage drawing close, a growing percussion beneath the old man’s labored breathing. They heard the wheels hit the bump just before the driveway split to curve in front of the house. Julia’s stomach clenched; soon Eamon would be in this very room.

“Julia?”

“Yes?”

His cheekbones and his nose were sharp; it was the look of death. “Let’s speed the time. Let’s outwit him. Just once more.”

“Do you have the strength?”

“Yes, yes. I shall twist time to my own ends and then . . .” He paused and tremblingly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then you shall be orphaned after all.”

Julia bit the inside of