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Quentin set his gla.s.s on the table. "I'll go with you. If you see Maggie, Carolyn -"
"I'll explain it to her," she promised.
"He's up in that room again," Willie told them. "What's goin' on, Julia?" "What do you mean?"56.
"Barnabas, well, he wasn't the same as when he left."
"Angelique's back."
"What? But - she's dead."
"We'll explain later, Willie. Right now, we have to talk to Barnabas."
He was standing in the bedroom, staring up at the portrait of Angelique. Julia still regretted going to get that painting for him, letting him turn this room into a shrine. "Barnabas," she said softly.
His eyes never left the painted blue ones. "I never thought to see her again. I saw her die. I held her in my arms as she took her last breath. When she walked into the Blue Whale tonight, I thought she was a ghost. But it was her."
They briefly told him Miranda's story. "I'm going to get in touch with Dr. du Bois," Julia told him. "And I'll also talk to Miranda."
"How ironic that she is using that name," Barnabas said quietly. "Perhaps it means a new beginning for us."
"Whatever it means, Barnabas, until she remembers, you must treat her as Miranda du Bois, a stranger. She must remember on her own."
"I understand."
"Are you going to let Julia start searching for a cure again?"
"She tried for six months with no success."
"What harm will it do for me to keep trying, Barnabas? Especially now. Unless you plan to turn her into what you are."
She almost regretted her words and apologized when he stiffened. "You can begin tomorrow evening," he told her. "Now, if you're finished -"
"See you tomorrow, Cousin." "I want to talk to you alone, quentin."
"Sure." He leaned back against the doorframe as Julia started out.
"I'll tell Willie what's happened while I'm downstairs," she said, glancing once more at Barnabas before leaving. "Well, Cousin?"
"You warned me once about Maggie -I'm warning you about Angelique: Stay away from her."
"And if I don't?"
"Don't push me, Quentin."
Quentin shrugged. "I was just trying to be friendly to a new arrival."
"Indeed?"
"I guess you haven't forgotten that she was going to marry me once," he said. He didn't mention that it had only been another of Angelique's devices to make Barnabas jealous.
"She had her reasons for that," was Barnabas' response. "But she is mine, Quentin. She always has been."
"Then what harm can my being friendly possibly do? Or are you afraid that she might prefer my company to yours?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I trust you will recall that in all of our early battles, I was the victor more than you. Good night." He turned back to the portrait, leaving Quentin no choice but to leave.
Hours later, Barnabas stood on the terrace, looking up at the house. The light was out in Angelique's room, but he knew she would hear him if he called her. There had always been a link between them. He had sensed it that first moment on Martinique when he had looked up and seen her on the landing. He understood it no more now than he had then, but it was still there, stronger, now. "Angelique. Come to me. I am on the terrace, waiting. Come. Come."
She appeared on the edge of the terrace, wearing a dark green velvet robe, pausing when she saw him. "Oh. Mr. Collins."
"Miss du Bois. I thought everyone asleep."
"I was, but - something woke me," she said, trying to recall what that had been.
"I'm glad."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I wanted some company," he explained.57.
"Oh." She wandered over to the fountain.
Barnabas watched the play of moonlight on her hair, gilding it with a silvery glow. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. "You are very beautiful."
"Th-Thank you."
"There is no need to thank me for stating the truth."
She looked around and something in his eyes seemed to trouble her, and she turned back toward the house. "I should be going in."
"Not yet."
"If anyone were to wake up and see me out here - I do work for Mrs. Stoddard, and I'm sure she wouldn't approve of my being down here with you at this hour."
"She won't know. Please, stay for awhile."
Miranda looked up into his eyes
and he could see the confusion in
them.
"I don't understand this."
"What don't you understand, Miranda?"