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

his gaze, and her face seemed composed and confident. “This isn’t really about them, is it? You thought the Guild killed them, and yet you didn’t yell about it back then. You’ve taken Guild money for years, lived your comfortable life. What are you really upset about?”

Nick leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. She was right, damn it. He wasn’t upset about Leo and Meg, or at least not more than usual. He was upset that the Guild had disturbed his peace and quiet. He wanted nothing more than to go back to that comfortable, uncomplicated life he had built for himself on Guild money. His house in Vermont, Thruppenny Farm, his loft in SoHo, his series of lovers. He wanted to forget Leo, forget Meg, forget the Guild. Forget these new revelations, forget the possibility that he might return. He wanted to forget his past, forget . . .

But there was no forgetting the war. Those dreams followed him across the centuries. And the girl with the dark eyes. She was always there, too. Wherever, whenever he was.

“How did your estate, the marquessate, make its money, Lord Falcott?”

Nick dropped his hands from his eyes and looked at Alice in some confusion. “Tenant farming. What does this have to do with the Guild?”

“Tenant farming? Really? You were a very rich man, my lord. You made all your money from your land?”

“I don’t know. It’s been years since I thought about it.” Nick shrugged. “The years of war were good for the landed gentry. Corn prices were high since we were shut off from the rest of the world. But other than that? Investments. Trade, I suppose.”

Alice laid her fork down with a clink. “Investments where? Trade in what? Sugar, perchance?”

Nick sat up straight in his chair. “I had no slaves, Alice.”

“Are you sure of that?” She raised her eyebrows. “You had no investments whatsoever in the West Indies? Come now, my lord. How far away is Falcott House from Bristol? Are you telling me you were a Devonshire marquess and an abolitionist? Don’t lie to me, because I already know everything about you, both past and present. You profited, if only indirectly, from slavery. You know it now, but more importantly, you knew it then.”

“The slave trade was abolished in 1807,” Nick muttered. “Everyone knew British slavery itself would end soon. . . .”

“Because of you? Because of your labors?”

“It’s not a fair argument.” Nick twitched his cuffs into place and laid his hands on either side of his plate, ready to push up and away. “Believe me, I have suffered over my failings. Besides, what does slavery have to do with the Guild? Are you trying to tell me that the accident of my birth makes me more guilty than you of perpetrating lies? You are the Alderwoman. You can choose to tell us the truth.”

“You were a marquess. You could have chosen to divest your investments. You could have chosen to take your seat in the House of Lords instead of rushing off to a war that didn’t need you. You could have worked with Wilberforce and the abolitionists to make a difference. Instead . . .”

Nick sank back into his chair and put out a hand. “Please.” He sat in silence for a moment. “Allow me to pronounce my own guilt. I was an aristocrat. It was an inherited burden, and I was not equal to it, Alice. I was not equal to it. I fucked it up. I ran away. I ran away from war, too, when I jumped. Like a coward. I ran away to this barren future. I’m sorry I wasn’t an abolitionist. I’m sorry I’m not your man now. And I’m not, Alice.”

Alice pursed her lips, then picked up her fork again and ate her final bite of salad. When she had swallowed, she wiped her mouth with her napkin and looked Nick straight in the eye. “Perhaps when you go back and are the Marquess of Blackdown again you will have a chance to be our man. A chance to . . .” She paused. “Unfuck it up in some small way? But remember. The river runs to the sea. You won’t be able to change the things that will now seem abhorrent to you. You won’t be able to avoid eating sugar made by slaves. You won’t be able to avoid wearing shirts sewn by women who are going blind to make those tiny white stitches in your fine white linen. You won’t be able to give your sisters the vote or send them to university. You won’t be able to halt the march of industry that will destroy the livelihood of your tenants, nor will you be able to prevent the pollution that will kill the fish in your streams. You will know about these things, and you will do what you think is best with the knowledge you have. You will try to protect that which you love and those whom you love. But you will also make choices that go against your principles. You will—yes, you will—you will tell lies, my lord. Just as I do.”

Alice held Nick’s gaze for a long time. Then she turned to her husband and pointedly changed the subject.

Nick ate a few bites of his nauseating salad, spiraling into misery as he listened with half an ear to Alice and Arkady’s laughing conversation. They had seen a revival of School for Scandal last week and they couldn’t stop rehashing the best bits between them.

* * *

Julia lay for a few breaths beneath the knife. She was the Talisman! She had been the thing that enhanced Grandfather’s power. Now it turned out that she could stop time all on her own. If he had known that, perhaps he would have told her more. She swallowed, feeling the flat side of the knife against her throat. Pretend, Grandfather had said. Pretend not to be the Talisman, the Talisman you don’t know you are.

Grandfather had left her alone and