Accursed Abbey: A Steamy Regency Gothic Romance (Nobles & Necromancy Book 1)

by Tessa Candle

  Elizabeth's stomach clenched and a cold sweat passed over her. Surely if Lord Canterbourne was also having these uncanny feelings, there was something very wrong with this place.

  The sun was turning a redder gold as it approached the horizon. The amber coloured panes of window glass threw a diluted wash of rust across their faces, as though the corrosion of the region were afflicting them. They remained silent for a few moments.

  Lenore finished her wine and Mrs. Grissoni refilled her cup, unbidden, then set about preparing the food for dinner.

  Elizabeth noted that Lenore's hands were scratched and dirty, and there were blood stains around her mouth. No doubt from the ordeal of chewing her way through the rope that bound her.

  "I cannot imagine why such a thing should have happened to such a sweet, upright, unaffected girl. Where is her guardian?"

  "Perhaps it is a local custom to ignore one's charges." Canterbourne did not say more, but Elizabeth knew he was thinking of her own guardians, who were nowhere to be seen.

  The question remained of what they should do with the disturbed maiden. Elizabeth's instinct was to keep Lenore with her, never mind that there was not room.

  But she did not believe her aunt and uncle would tolerate the expense of a house guest. And more importantly, Elizabeth was increasingly convinced that her own dwelling was not a safe place. If Lenore's captor came hunting for her, how could Elizabeth protect her?

  Elizabeth knew she needed help. “My lord, I know not how you came to find my friend in such a pitiable condition, but I must believe it has been divine providence.”

  Canterbourne gave her such a smile that her sensibilities would almost not let her continue speaking, for she could see the warmth and compassion in his eyes. She began to dream of having such a man for a husband. But then she chided herself for being fanciful. She should be thinking of her friend.

  “I only did what any gentleman would do,” he replied. “But if it should turn out that I have been God's instrument in this affair, it will have been worth the delay I experienced in coming to see you.”

  She could not help the dreamy little smile that crept onto her face at these words. He was so handsome and so good. Was it possible that he felt more for her than just the care that such a man always feels for those in peril or in need?

  “I am so honoured—and beyond that, truly gladdened by your lordship's visit. I wish it were not under such circumstances, but at the same time, I am very glad you are here, my lord. I do not think I shall be able to make my friend safe without your lordship's assistance.”

  His chest swelled a little. “I am quite at your service, Miss Whitely. For I am very desirous of performing any task I might for you.” He leaned a little closer to her. “Pray, tell me what assistance I may lend?”

  Lenore's head was nodding. Elizabeth took the cup from her hand and placed it on the other side of the table, mostly to distract herself from the awareness of Lord Canterbourne's sweet masculine scent as he drew nearer. Lenore did not seem to notice the cup’s removal as she fell into slumber.

  Elizabeth glanced at Lord Canterbourne over the sleeping form of her friend, and they shared a look of relief that the girl was calm enough to rest.

  The smell of frying trout filled the air. Elizabeth realized how hungry she was, for she had eaten nothing but bread and cheese and buttermilk for these past days, and had had nothing at all since breakfast.

  The cooking fish had the added advantage of obscuring the enticing scent of Lord Canterbourne's person, which made her want to bury her face in his chest.

  She was not quite sure how to put what she had to say, for it sounded a bit mad, but she drew a breath and conceded in a quiet voice, “I share your lordship's uncanny apprehensions about Lenore's situation. I have my own reasons to believe that this neighbourhood is not quite safe.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “But then I think my fancy runs away with me. Still, we may draw from Lenore's situation the conclusion that there is evil, or at least dangerous madness, living within these environs.”

  She searched his face and was relieved to see that he did not look as though he thought the madness were all her own.

  He nodded and his brows knit together. “I see that you and I, once again, have something in common. For I cannot disagree with your appraisal. Still, what can I do for your friend?”

  “If I do not ask too much of you, my lord, might it not be possible to remove her from here to a safer place? I hate to be separated from her again, but I do not feel she will be safe here, for my aunt and uncle are always away at their vines. I know she is a devout Catholic. May she not take shelter in the church, at least until we can locate her guardian?”

  “I know not much about the town, but I am sure there is at least a church. I shall do whatever I can to make your friend safe, Miss Whitely.”

  The earnestness of his expression as he said this and the way he sought out her gaze again made her insides melt. If only she could go with them. Elizabeth would very much like Lord Canterbourne to make her safe, as well.

  “I hope you will pardon the interruption, Miss, milord.” Mrs. Grissoni had torn herself from her labours.

  “What is it, Mrs. Grissoni?” Elizabeth turned to the servant.

  “There is a cloister, em, a nunnery in the village. The abbess is very kind. I think she take this poor Miss.”

  “Of course you would know about such things!” Elizabeth beamed at the kind servant. “I am a great idiot for not asking in the first place. Thank you, Mrs. Grissoni.”

  The woman only smiled and nodded. “The fish is ready. You eat before you go, heh?”

  Elizabeth thought the idea was charming. Eating the fish might not be so bad, after all, if the meal were seasoned by such delightful company. She knew she should guard her heart, but there was some sort of irresistible magic about Lord Canterbourne and the way that he kept intervening to assist her and her friend. Was not fate bringing them together?

  Chapter 17

  Lord Canterbourne was thankful to have Mrs. Grissoni along in the carriage, for although the locals appeared quite relaxed about women and men travelling together, it was usually on the back of an open cart, not in an enclosed carriage.

  He had, in fact, felt compelled to ride up top with Tonner when he brought Miss Berger to Miss Whitely's cottage. But now having a married woman in the carriage assuaged his sense of propriety, while allowing him the comfort of riding in the coach.

  Miss Berger was still barely sensible. She had not wanted to leave Elizabeth again, but Mrs. Grissoni was able to calm the girl by lending her a rosary, and assuring her that she would be taken to be among the nuns.

  Mrs. Grissoni, on the other hand, was quite aware of her fine environment. She seemed very impressed with the carriage and pleased to be riding in it. She patted the cushions approvingly every so often and felt the texture of the upholstery with a look of great satisfaction.

  Canterbourne smiled to himself. It was not hard to take a liking to Mrs. Grissoni. He felt a little concerned that he was taking her away from the Whitely house, however. He did not like to leave Miss Whitely unprotected when there could very well be a madman lurking in her neighbourhood.

  Mrs. Grissoni assured him that the Whitelys would return home from their vines soon after the sun set. They could not abide the expense of working by torchlight. Canterbourne did not know much about grape growing, but he could not see what they should have to do out there that could possibly justify abandoning their niece so completely.

  Still, she would only be alone for a few hours. It grated upon him to leave her at all. He needed to have a word with the Whitelys.

  When they arrived at the cloister, Miss Berger permitted herself to be led into the great building. Her mind was still obviously troubled by her ordeal, but she seemed to be calmed by the familiar company of nuns.

  Mrs. Grissoni spoke with the abbess who nodded gravely and replied in a language he did not understand, but in kindly tones. C
anterbourne thought Miss Berger should be safe here. He would try to persuade Mrs. Grissoni to act as a chaperone for Elizabeth so that he might bring her to visit.

  The abbess did not speak a word of English, but Mrs. Grissoni translated for her as best she could. Lord Canterbourne was made to understand that there was an English-speaking cleric, whom he might confer with in a little hermitage down the street.

  When he arrived at the humble dwelling, he was struck by the smell of incense that wafted out of the cracks even before the door was opened to him. It was a tar-like scent, sticky with a resinous odour he could not identify, and full of amber and caramelized sugar.

  The man who opened the door was not the rotund, smiling, jolly monk he had expected in his mind's eye. The cleric's elongated face was amplified by an overall look of pinched malnourishment. His cheekbones jutted out beside a long, thin but protruding nose, so lumpy that it might have been broken, over the bridge of which a pair of brass-framed spectacles presided.

  He bore the black robe and tonsure of his sect, but remarkably wore no shoes at all. It was evident that he had been reading, for he still held the book in his hand.

  “You must be the milord that is visiting our little town,” said the man in English, before Lord Canterbourne had uttered a word.

  It was remarkable how quickly word got around this village, though Canterbourne could not wonder at his being immediately recognizable, for his dress, carriage and bearing must set him apart.

  “Indeed. I am Lord Canterbourne.” He smiled. “The abbess at the cloister sent me here to speak with you, knowing you were adept in my tongue. Do I intrude upon your studies? I should not wish to disturb you.”

  The man ushered him into the little hermitage with a gesture. “Not at all, milord. I should be thankful for the company.” He set his book and spectacles aside. “I am Giuseppe Marano. I hope you will call me Giuseppe.”

  Giuseppe cleared stacks of papers off a little table and produced two tumblers. He poured wine for them both from a clay pitcher, motioning for Canterbourne to sit.

  “What has brought you to the church, milord, for I assume you are not of the faith?”

  “If the faith were to include the Church of England, perhaps.”

  Giuseppe chuckled. “The official story is that there is one true church, which is universal. This is signified by the word katholikos. It is the Greek word for universal, you see. Very scholarly. So the Catholic Church is the true, universal church. It is all quite logical.”

  The cleric rubbed his lumpy nose and continued. “But I have seen too much real evil to be nice. The church is majestic enough for all manner of fine distinctions, but a simple man like myself cannot quibble. De minimis non curat praefator.” He seemed amused at some private joke. “So I will happily share my wine with a non-Catholic.”

  Canterbourne nodded. “I am afraid my Latin is a bit rough, but that is just what I think. That is to say, I believe basic decency should override our religious preferences and prejudices.”

  The monk laughed long and hard then. After a few moments, he wiped his eyes and said, “Forgive me. But ah, milord, you cannot imagine how very English you sounded just now.”

  Canterbourne could not take offence at this liberty, as he did not think that sounding English was such a very bad thing. “Well,” he smiled, “I suppose that is just as it should be.”

  “Indeed, indeed.” Giuseppe took a long drink and smacked his lips. “Very true, milord. But pray, what can I do to be of service?”

  Canterbourne thought for a moment, but could not think what it was he wanted Giuseppe to do, really. He had ended up in the monk's hermitage merely because the man spoke English. “In truth, I am not certain how to answer that. Only I recently rescued a young woman and brought her to the care of the abbess, and that good woman sent me here.”

  The man nodded. “Tell me about this young woman that you brought to sanctuary, milord.”

  “I found her wandering frantically on the road. She had been tied up and was wild with the conviction that the devil persecuted her.”

  The man's brows raised. He looked deep in thought for a few moments. “Do you suppose she is mad, milord?”

  “I do not think so. But she has been deeply disturbed by whatever happened to her. She is recently acquainted with,” he paused, “a friend of mine, who says she is a sweet girl, raised in a convent orphanage, not at all prone to madness, and recently come to live with her guardian before this ordeal befell her.”

  “And who is this guardian?”

  “I know not. But perhaps the sisters may learn something from her after she is calmed down. I should be happy to pay for her accommodation. I only sought out a place where she would be safe and properly chaperoned.”

  The man grinned, “Oh, that she shall be. Very well, you may make a donation to the convent, if it pleases you, my lord. But the church does not expect remuneration for acting charitably.”

  Canterbourne could not quite discern whether this last comment was made sardonically or in earnest. The fellow had an odd, philosophical sort of humour about him.

  “Quite.” This was all the reply Canterbourne felt safe in offering.

  “Milord, if I do not commit an unpardonable act of impudence in inquiring, might I ask what business brings you to this little town in the back country?”

  “It is difficult to explain.” Truly, Canterbourne did not even know how to begin the story. Strange that it had flowed so naturally from him when he had told it to Miss Whitely. But it had been a peculiar setting for both of them. That was part of their bond.

  Still, he wondered what Giuseppe might know of Orefados, so he gave a vague reply. “I had some business with Lord Orefados.”

  The man's face went from a half-foxed amusement to a look of concern. Then he recovered his smile. “Ah, then. If it is with Lord Orefados, it would be difficult to explain.”

  Canterbourne leaned in. “What do you mean?”

  The man chuckled. “I assume you have met him, milord?”

  “Yes, I have. He is,” Canterbourne cast about for the right word, “a tad eccentric.”

  “That is precisely what anyone would say who was so politely English as yourself, milord. But as your lordship has met Lord Orefados, it must be obvious what I meant, even to an English milord.”

  Canterbourne had to laugh at this bit of fresh impudence. He thought he might be forever spoiled for the tightly-cinched stays of London parlour talk, after visiting such a place as Melonia.

  There was something truly disarming about the complete abandonment of decorum demonstrated by every occupant of the town and only half-heartedly covered by the fig leaf of an appended milord.

  But beyond his amusement, Canterbourne knew he also resorted to laughter as a distraction from the unpleasant sensation that crept up his spine when the priest hinted at the uncanny truth about Orefados. He sobered. “Have you had some dealings with the man that you find difficult to explain?”

  “Oh, aye,” Giuseppe said. His face was very serious as he poured them both more wine. “But they are not so much my dealings as the dealings of a friend. It is the reason I do the penance that you see.” He gestured around at the humble little one-roomed hermitage.

  “Penance?” Canterbourne was surprised. He had merely thought the man lived simply as an article of devotion. “Living here is your penance?”

  “Living here and completing that.” He gestured to a large collection of parchments on a shelf in one corner of the room. “It is a hand-scripted Novum Testamentum, complete with illuminations. My rector desired I make it for him and assigned the task to me as penance to ease my friend's time in purgatory. I believe he was trying to be kind.”

  “But it is penance for your friend's deed? And it has something to do with Orefados?”

  The man drained his cup and re-filled it with the last of the wine in the pitcher. “How late does milord plan to stay?”

  Chapter 18

  Elizabeth regretted her dec
ision to remain alone in the house almost as soon as Lord Canterbourne's carriage pulled away. Lenore would be out of harm's way, but would she herself be quite safe?

  A paper rustled from among her aunt's and uncle's collection. Elizabeth started. She was as jumpy as a cat and she knew not when the Whitelys would return home.

  What if that strange man should come? She could not bear to see him again. A night bird sang a melancholy evening song, and the last trails of the sun's red light were pouring in the open window.

  Elizabeth closed it against the insects that would soon swarm the house, looking for any point of entry. She hoped gnats and moths might be the only intruders. Silverloo nuzzled her skirts and looked up at her with concern.

  She sat down at the kitchen table and petted his head. “Not to worry, Silverloo. I am just being a fanciful girl.” She loved the little dog, but would feel a great deal safer if Lord Canterbourne had not left her side.

  What would she do when he removed back to London?

  They had hardly had occasion to speak of it, but she wondered if he had disposed of the sealed box, if any part of the mystery had been revealed to him. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of voices outside the door.

  “Oh my lord, I pray you will not mind our humble home. I only hope we have a little dinner to offer you. Our servant will have finished her work and left by this hour.”

  Elizabeth's heart leapt. Could it be Lord Canterbourne returned again so soon?

  “Indeed, Mrs. Whitely, your hospitable nature quite overcomes me, but I have already dined. However, I should very much like to see these experiments you spoke of, Mr. Whitely—if I do not presume too much.”

  The outer door opened, and Elizabeth stood up from her chair in the kitchen parlour, anticipating the arrival of a guest. But as the voices became more distinct, she was certain she recognized the guest's voice as that of the horrid man who had come upon her as she fished and run her off.