“This strange talk started several hours ago. I can’t understand anything she is babbling!”
“She must be delirious,” Celine said to Amos.
“Have you ever witnessed this before?”
“I have, Mr. Buckley. In Martinique, I have seen fevers of such type which cause confusion. It should pass as soon as the illness wanes.”
“Poor woman,” Amos said.
“Mr. Buckley,” Celine said. “Do you mind fetching a cool cloth for her head? It may help with her symptoms.”
“If you suppose it will help, of course.”
“Duchess Northcott, I promise I will be right as rain soon,” Elizabeth said as Celine turned her attention toward her. “I don’t mean to be such a bother.”
Celine smiled at her, despite being disturbed by the name Elizabeth used for her. “No bother at all,” she said, patting her hands. “I will give you some medicine to help you.”
“Oh, how kind, Duchess Northcott. Whatever you feel is right.”
Celine touched her cheek, sending her to sleep in seconds. Afterward, she rubbed her temples, whispering a few words in a mix of Latin and French. She finished as Amos entered the room with a cloth and basin in his hands. Gray followed him.
“How is she?” Amos asked.
“Asleep,” Celine answered, allowing Gray to take her place. Amos placed the cool cloth on her forehead. “She seemed much more relaxed just before she fell asleep. Perhaps now she can rest.”
They stayed at Elizabeth’s bedside for a few more moments. “Will you both excuse me? I would like to join my cousins for dinner.”
“Of course, Mina,” Amos answered. “Please give them our apologies for not attending.”
“I will, but I am sure they will understand.”
“I’d like to sit with Mother a while longer if you don’t mind, Mina.”
“Of course not, dear,” she said, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ll check with you before I retire for the evening.”
“Thank you, darling,” Gray said, kissing her hand.
Celine left the room, leaning against the door as she closed it. She sighed, thinking of Elizabeth. The poor woman didn’t deserve this. She had been so welcoming to Celine when they had arrived. Gray had announced their marriage in a letter. They had traveled on their “honeymoon” for almost one year before they returned to his family home while trying to avoid the Duke. Elizabeth had welcomed her new daughter-in-law with open arms, unaware of the trouble Celine brought with her.
Tears threatened to escape from Celine’s eyes. She held them back, setting her jaw. She had work to do. She had to find her painting, had to recapture it from the clutches of the Duke. This house and its occupants desperately needed it. Celine took a deep breath, resolving to continue the search. She would continue her investigation tonight, alone or with Michael and Damien.
But first, she wanted them to eat. They were, after all, human and required sustenance and rest. They could discuss a plan over their meal. She navigated the halls toward their rooms. She found them ready and waiting in the hall as she rounded the corner.
“How is Gray’s mom?” Damien asked.
“Not well,” Celine answered. “It is imperative that we find that painting.”
“I agree,” Michael said. “Perhaps we should skip dinner.”
“No,” Celine insisted with a shake of her head. “You must eat. Finding it before or after dinner won’t a make a bit of difference. It will only jeopardize your own health.”
“We’ll eat fast,” Damien assured her.
“We’ll discuss a plan over dinner. Then we will be prepared as soon as we are finished eating.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Michael said, motioning toward the main hall. “Shall we?”
The trio dined alone. Gray and Amos took trays in Elizabeth’s room and Alexander was completing some work, also requesting dinner be sent to his office. It made planning for their evening hunt easier. They agreed that spying on Marcus Northcott was the easiest and fastest way to find the painting. With Celine assisting them, they were comfortable being that close to the Duke.
They finished their meal as quickly as they were able. With no delay, they went to the foyer, donning their cloaks and exiting the house. They began by checking Benjamin Abbott’s home, finding it empty. From there, they took the shortest path to the Duke’s home, hiding themselves in the woods as close as possible to the home.
They surveyed the house. There appeared to be no one home. Lights lit some of the rooms downstairs, but from their vantage point, they could see no one in the home.
“Great!” Michael groused. “Appears we’ve missed our chance.”
“Yeah, he’s gone and so is Benjamin. They have to be with the painting,” Damien complained. “Well, that figures! Damn it!”
“I have an idea,” Celine said. “Wait here. Do nothing until I’m back.”
“Whoa, Celine, wait!” Michael said, grabbing her elbow.
“Yeah, what’s the plan?” Damien asked.
“You’re right, it appears Marcus is gone. We can’t follow him to the painting unless he’s here. So, I’ll lure him back here so we can follow him.”
“You can’t!” Damien exclaimed.
“I’m with Damien on this one,” Michael said. “We missed our chance tonight, we won’t miss it the next time, even if we have to stay here all night.”
“That’s ridiculous! There is no reason to wait,” Celine argued. “This will work. If I appear on his doorstep, he will return.”
“But at what cost?” Michael contended.
“Yeah, you can’t sacrifice yourself,” Damien said. “You shouldn’t go anywhere near that maniac.”
“I’m not sacrificing myself! I’m capable of handling a simple conversation with Marcus. I’m in no danger. Once I’ve returned, we’ll wait for him to leave the house again. With any luck, he’ll lead us right back to the painting. Now do not go anywhere until I’ve returned. If he leaves the house before I am back, note where he goes. We’ll follow him as soon as we’re reunited.”
“Celine…” Damien began, stopping short of saying anything further when she began walking away, turning to give him a wink.
“Wish me luck!” she said.
“Wow, she’s stubborn,” Damien said.
“Yeah. Hasn’t changed in two hundred years either,” Michael said as Celine increased the distance between them, marching toward Marcus Northcott’s house.
Celine strode toward the house. Her purpose was twofold. Not only would she use the ruse to follow Marcus and hopefully find the painting, but she would also use the opportunity to discuss Gray’s mother with Marcus. Perhaps appealing to him would help the situation. While she doubted it would, it didn’t hurt to try.
Celine approached the house, climbing the stairs to the porch. She risked one glance back toward the woods where Michael and Damien waited, then knocked at the door. Dembe answered the door.
“Good evening, Dembe,” Celine said. “I am here to speak with Duke Northcott.”
“Miss Celine,” Dembe answered her, “Duke Northcott is not at home.”
“Then I shall wait while you fetch him,” Celine said, stepping into the entryway.
“Duke Northcott cannot be disturbed,” Dembe answered. “If you prefer to wait, you may use the sitting room. I shall make him aware of your presence as soon as he returns.” He motioned toward the room off the entryway.
“Dembe, I cannot wait for Duke Northcott to return. My business with him is urgent. It is imperative that I speak with him at once.”
“Miss Celine, I do not know his whereabouts,” Dembe said.
Celine’s eyes narrowed as she tried to determine the truthfulness of his statement.
“I suggest you find him at once!” she exclaimed. “He will, undoubtedly, desire to hear what I have to say.”
“Miss Celine, I…” Dembe began.
“Dembe,” Celine said, allowing annoyance to creep into her voice, “should
Duke Northcott return home to find out I have been here requesting to speak with him and you’ve done nothing, I can guarantee he will be less than pleased. Now, I shall wait in the sitting room while you fetch him from wherever he is.”
“Yes, Miss Celine,” Dembe said.
Celine sat on the loveseat near the fireplace, listening as the back door closed as Dembe left the house. Her plan was working. As she suspected, Dembe had at least an inkling of Marcus’ whereabouts. While Marcus often kept his plans secret from most people, he also preferred to be prepared for any unexpected occurrences. He had likely left Dembe some way of contacting him.
Celine waited, reflecting on her dealings with Marcus, past and present. She worried for Michael and Damien, waiting for her in their hideaway. Time crept by, marked by the ticking of the mantle clock. After about thirty minutes, footsteps sounded on the porch.
The sound of a man’s shoes announced Marcus’ arrival in the house. Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard as she prepared for the confrontation. Within moments, Marcus entered the sitting room.
“Celine, what a pleasant surprise,” Marcus greeted her. “I was delighted when I learned you had requested to see me. Am I to assume this urgent late evening call is to announce the end of this mockery of a marriage and your return to your rightful place?” He poured a brandy for himself. “Brandy, my dear?”
“No,” Celine said, standing.
“You’re right, an occasion such as this calls for champagne!”
“I am not here to reconcile with you, Marcus. I am here to discuss Elizabeth Buckley.”
Marcus sighed, sipping his brandy. “How disappointing.”
“You must stop your attack on her,” Celine said.
“I haven’t the faintest notion what you are referring to, Celine,” Marcus said.
“She’s innocent in this, she doesn’t deserve to suffer because of the feud between us. Stop what you are doing to her!”
Marcus chuckled. “Pleading will do you no good, Celine. My sympathy doesn’t extend to the Buckley family.”
“Marcus, please!”
Marcus was silent for a moment. “All right, Celine. I’ll stop what I’m doing to her.” Celine breathed a sigh of relief. “When you leave Grayson Buckley and return to me.” Celine’s jaw tightened, a scowl settling on her face. “Oh, such a beautiful pout,” he said, tracing her jawline with his finger.
“Do not touch me!” she said through clenched teeth, pushing his hand away.
“Do not waste my time,” he growled back, grabbing her hand. She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I will not be played a fool, Celine. The next time you summon me it had better be for a better reason than to discuss Grayson Buckley’s ailing mother.”
“It is an urgent reason, you…” Celine began.
Marcus threw his glass against the fireplace, shattering it into tiny pieces. He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling a shocked and frightened Celine toward him. “Do not presume, Celine, to ask me for favors. I would have given you everything, anything you asked for. You married that buffoon Buckley. Unless you’ve come to seek my aid in leaving him, you have lost your privilege to request anything of me.” He released her; she stumbled back a few steps before steadying herself. “Now, I have my own urgent business so unless you’ve reconsidered, we have nothing further to discuss this evening.”
Celine composed herself. “Urgent business?” she scoffed. “Do you mean overseeing the completion of the painting you stole?”
“Celine, I would recommend you cease with this childish behavior.”
“I’m just curious,” Celine pushed.
“My business is none of your concern, my dear. Now run along. I’m sure dear, sick Elizabeth Buckley could use a nursemaid.”
Celine glared at him but made no further attempts at conversation. Picking up her skirts, she stormed from the room and the house, down the steps and path. When she was a safe distance from the house, she darted off the path and dashed to the edge of the woods.
She rejoined Michael and Damien. “Everything go okay?” Damien asked as she returned.
“Yes. The plan worked as I expected. Marcus returned home and he said he had urgent business to attend to. I’d stake anything on that business being returning to my painting.”
“Right, now we just wait to follow him,” Michael said. They waited a few moments, eyes glued to the house.
After a few minutes, Damien inquired, “Where is he? Did he use the back door instead? Did we miss him?”
“Perhaps he’s not going back tonight,” Michael said.
“He’s going. He’s scolding Dembe for summoning him away from it at my request. I regret using poor Dembe.”
“Hopefully the ends justify the means,” Michael said.
Celine nodded her head and returned to surveying the front door. Within another moment, the trio was rewarded. Marcus Northcott emerged from the house, making his way down the path, heading away from them.
“Looks like your plan paid off,” Michael said. “Here we go.”
“Careful,” Celine said, holding him back for a moment, “not too close. He’ll sense me.”
Michael nodded, waiting a moment before they proceeded. They followed behind Marcus at a safe distance, using the woods for cover when possible. They arrived outside of a rundown barn. Marcus entered the barn after speaking with a man who stood outside the main doors.
“Ah,” Celine exhaled.“He has Stefano guarding it.”
Damien and Michael recognized Stefano. They had seen him in their time. It was the man Celine had almost killed in the alleyway behind the local bar when she learned he had robbed her sister of her life.
It wasn’t long before another figure emerged from the barn. “Is that Teddy?” Damien asked, squinting into the darkness.
“Yes, that’s him,” Celine said. “He’s likely the one who knew where Marcus could be found. Marcus wouldn’t have trusted Dembe with that information.”
“One of us should get closer, try to find out any information about whether or not the painting is complete,” Michael said.
“It has to be one of us,” Damien said. “He’ll sense Celine.”
“Rock, paper, scissors for it? Loser has to go to the barn,” Michael suggested.
“Ha! Yes!” Damien whispered triumphantly as his rock crushed Michael’s scissors.
“Wish me luck!” Michael said, standing from his crouched positions behind the nearby brush.
“Be safe,” Celine said, squeezing his hand before he crept toward the side of the barn. Careful to stay out of Stefano’s site, he snuck to the side wall, pressing himself against it. A gap between the boards allowed him to spy a small area inside the barn. He peered through the small crack. Inside, the painting stood in the middle of the floor. Benjamin Abbott stood a foot away, speaking with Marcus Northcott.
Michael strained to overhear the heated conversation. By the gesturing, it appeared they were having an argument.
“… tired!” Abbott said. “I cannot work anymore tonight! I’ll finish it tomorrow or the next day.”
“That is unacceptable, Benjamin. I demand you finish the painting tonight!”
“What put you in such a foul mood? Didn’t hear what you wanted from the lady?” Benjamin chuckled.
“That is none of your affair. I have waited long enough for you to complete this painting.”
“You’ve waited two days and inconvenienced me to no end! If the painting hadn’t been moved from my studio, I could have finished it! I cannot paint in this light nor at this hour.”
“I expect you to finish this tomorrow,” Marcus insisted.
“Fine,” Abbott said, removing his artist’s smock and throwing it down.
“Just a moment, Benjamin,” Marcus said. Benjamin paused, sighing. “You’ll need this.” Marcus brandished a blindfold, slipping it over his eyes. He called for Stefano, instructing him to return the painter to his cottage then return here.
Michael rushed back
to Damien and Celine after Stefano left with the artist. “Well?” Damien asked.
Michael gulped some air before launching into his recap. “Your painting’s in there,” he began. “It’s not finished. They were having an argument, Benjamin and the Duke. Benjamin didn’t want to finish it; said he was too tired, and the light wasn’t good or something.”
“Did he say when he’d finish it?” Celine asked.
“Tomorrow. The Duke insisted. He was not happy in the least when Benjamin refused to finish it tonight.”
“I can imagine. He is a man used to getting his way,” Celine said.
“We will have to keep a constant watch on the building,” Michael said.
“Yes, although there should be nothing else done tonight,” Celine said. “You both should get some rest.”
“No way, we found the painting. We’re not leaving it until we have it back,” Michael said, shaking his head.
“That’s not feasible. As soon as we return to the house, I will send Alexander to monitor the barn for the night.”
Michael opened his mouth to object when they saw movement on the path. Stefano was returning. Celine shushed him as they watched him speak with Marcus outside of the barn after announcing himself. After a moment, Marcus strode off toward his home.
“He’s going home for the night,” Celine said. “We’re safe to go home for the night. Mr. Abbott isn’t an early riser and certainly not an early worker. We have time for you both to get some rest and breakfast before we return.”
“I don’t like this, Celine,” Michael said, “but I assume you’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Your assumption is correct,” Celine said, standing. “Come, we shall return home for you to rest.”
They made their through the woods, away from the barn. They took the path leading to the house. As they entered the house, Celine assured them she would speak with Alexander, demanding Michael and Damien go straight to bed. They agreed to meet early for breakfast and return to the barn as early as possible.
Stolen Portrait Stolen Soul: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 2) Page 25
