All right, Lord . . . what now? The floorboards overhead squeaked, followed by loud thumping and banging. She eyed the butcher knife, realizing she’d never have the courage to kill—not even if it meant saving a life.
A door slammed. More yelling and pounding. What was happening? On instinct, she grabbed the first heavy object she could find—a fire poker propped against the mantle, and hurried as fast as her chubby legs would carry her. Once more she mounted the dreaded staircase on rubbery legs.
Above her, footsteps pelted the stairs. They were much too heavy to be Miss Jewel. He was coming her way! She must make it to the landing before he did. She drove her legs harder, reaching it just in time to duck into the shadows where the steps switched back and up to the left. She made herself as small as possible, as she squeezed behind the large ficus tree in the corner, closed her eyes, and prayed he wouldn’t see her. Must wait until his back was to her. You’ve got one shot, old girl.
He was right on her! His feet hit the last step. Did he see her? He made the turn. This was her chance before he headed down the last flight! Using all her pent up fear, she raised the brass poker and slammed it down. A nauseating sensation jolted her as the unyielding weapon made contact with soft flesh. Whether from surprise or disbelief, his knees buckled and he sprawled on the landing. She stood in shock, barely fathoming she had struck another human.
But her victory was short lived. With horror, she noticed he was still conscious. Adrenaline surged through her. She turned to flee, but all at once he seized hold of her ankle. His iron grip halted her already forward momentum, causing her to tip headlong. With sickening clarity, she felt herself falling, tumbling with a crack and bone-jarring awareness of bouncing down the stairs. She whispered a silent plea for mercy before her world went dark.
Chapter 36
Jewel pounded the locked door until her fists were bruised. Rage shot up through her bones like an all-consuming fire. She refused to be locked in again. If she had to crawl out the window and shimmy down the side of the house, she would. No more being a victim.
Where was all this conviction before, she chastised herself. If you hadn’t been such a coward, none of this would have happened. Culpeper would still be alive, Addie would be safe, and her baby wouldn’t be—
Suddenly, she heard the unmistakable sound of something crashing down the steps. Her heart froze. She listened.
Dead. Cold. Silence.
The stillness of the air surrounded her until she felt it would suffocate her. She couldn’t swallow for the acrid flavor of fear. Her ears strained in the darkness, waiting for a hint of movement. She reminded herself to breathe.
As she waited, the gas lamps from Rivermont flickered on, casting an eerie glow through the dark bedroom. A magnolia tree between the lighting and the window cast finger-like shadows across the wall. Her mind darted, trying to scratch out plausible explanations for the terrible noise and deafening silence.
She pressed her ear against the door. Did she imagine it or was that . . . yes . . . just barely—she could hear something. But what was it? A groan? Had Hunsdon fallen down the steps?
Alarms went off in her brain. Vague noises that she couldn’t make out. Her eyes opened wide as she searched the semidark room for a weapon. She needed a way to defend herself if he returned. They came to rest on a candlestick adorning the mantle. She eased across the floor and snatched it in her palm. A sharp gasp escaped her lips when the floorboard made an unexpected protest under her slight weight.
Painfully aware of each step and the potential to give herself away, she inched back behind the door, dug her fingers into the brass, and raised the metal object above her head. The sound moved up the stairs, drawing closer to her room. She buried her bare toes into the soft rug. Her slippers were somewhere between the downstairs and hall, lost in the struggle with Hunsdon along the way. Just as well. If she needed to make a run for it, shoes might hinder her movement. She gripped the candlestick tighter.
Approaching footsteps grew louder, although they didn’t sound like Hunsdon’s normal gate. More a stumble-slide, stumble-slide. Something wasn’t right.
The knob rattled, keys jingled, and then the door clicked as it unlocked, making her brace her legs and whisper a prayer for the Lord’s understanding. Surely, He must recognize she was fighting for her baby’s life.
A shape too large to be Addie stepped into the room, paused, and then took several steps forward. She moved closer to the figure, throwing all her weight behind the blow. Just as she lurched to strike, the floor creaked, giving her away.
No doubt, now, as the shadow turned around, lifted an arm to shield himself—it was Hunsdon. He grunted as the blunt instrument struck him across the arm. Jewel raised her weapon again to reign down another blow, but he caught her wrist, twisting her arm. “Drop it!” He snarled like a wounded dog. “I ought to beat you with it,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Come on.” He grabbed her by the elbow, jerking her out from behind the door.
“Let me go.” She balked, planting her feet on the carpet. The rug burned her tender instep as he dragged her unmercifully. “Where are we going?”
“We’re leaving.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Away from this house. Somewhere your black magic won’t work.”
Down the hallway, struggling with every step, she sensed they were getting close to the stairwell. She dug her heels deeper to slow their progress. When she saw she was no match for his strength, she tried the opposite. She sped up so that he had to pull back on her. They were down the first two steps when she careened to a stop, throwing him off center. She balled up her fist and punched him in the stomach.
Caught unaware, he doubled over with a loud whoosh of air. She tore down the stairs, skidded on the landing, and rounded the corner to make the last flight. Her descent through the dark gave her a feeling of flying. Before she knew what was happening, her feet shot out from under her and she fell, landing on her side. More surprised than hurt, she groped around. She puzzled at the odd-shaped mound beneath her. An acrid scent of blood stung her nose. Her hands were wet and sticky. Warnings went off inside her mind. Addie! Dear Lord, NO!
Her mind tried to process what was happening. Poor Addie! But there wasn’t time to absorb it all. Adrenaline kicked her muscles into gear when she heard Hunsdon tearing down the stairs behind her. She clawed her way to her feet, scrambling for the front entrance. Bolted shut!
She tugged helplessly on it, losing precious seconds. Her mind screamed to change course. The kitchen door! Before she could alter her direction, blinding blue-hot splashes of light raced through her neck and scalp. Hunsdon seized her by the hair and dragged her back to the steps.
His fingers twisted in her short curls, refusing to let go as he bent to catch his breath. They struggled, tumbled backward on the stairs, somehow avoiding tripping on Addie, who lay just inches from the bottom.
They stared at each other, both laboring for breath. He sprawled half on top of her, the steps cutting into her back. In the pale slanting light spilling through the downstairs window, she could see something dark matting the left side of Hunsdon’s face. His eyes were wild and glittering. He gave her hair a vicious tug, making her wince. “You’re going to pay for this.” A slow smile exuded across his features in the blue half light. A combined stench of his blood and sweat assaulted her nose.
I’m not going to die today. I’m not going to die today. The mantra played over and over in her head like a bump on an old record. Her pulse surged. Her mind screamed escape. With her hands pinned beneath her, she used the only weapon available, bringing her knee up hard between his thighs.
He yelped in pain, releasing her hair, but also allowing his weight to rest on top of her as he writhed in agony. She shoved him with all her might, turned, and scrambled up the steps. But her long skirts hindered her movement. She cried out as her feet got tangled. Before she climbed halfway up, he snagged her ankle with vice-like fingers that refused t
o let go.
They struggled. She clawed her way up several treads, desperate to gain ground, only to be dragged backward. Survival instincts swelled inside her. She refused to give up . . . almost at the top. It was a back and forth struggle of stairs gained and lost. Her fingers were raw from pulling at the spindles, using them for leverage. His obvious wounds gave her an advantage.
No glib remarks now, just desperate, guttural sounds—primal breathing locked in a life and death struggle that spurred her on. Her skin was slick with perspiration. He was losing his grip on her ankle. Almost . . . there.
Relief flooded through her when his hand slipped. Her foot was free. She flipped to her back, took aim, and issued a final kick to his face. In his attempt to avoid the blow, he lost his balance, rolled down the steps, and crashed through the railing. He fell to the landing below with a sickening thud.
Jewel sat on the top step, drawing air into her lungs. Her chest heaved from her efforts. As she regained her breath, she gathered up the courage to stare over the banister into the inky darkness below. She couldn’t see him. Once more, she strained, listening for sound.
She butt-scooted to the next step, not trusting her trembling legs to hold her weight while she listened. Nothing. Was he dead? She eased down a second step. A third. She froze after each movement pausing for sounds of life. The fall was no more than six feet. Could he survive?
By the time she reached the landing, she’d gathered the courage to stand. She saw the door in the dim light, the two figures just visible. With dread, she realized it remained bolted. She’d have to get the keys off Hunsdon’s belt. Her nerve faltered.
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, her mouth gone dry. She tried to swallow, but her throat only made a clicking noise as it convulsed. It would be easier to take the key ring from the devil himself. The only other option was to go out the kitchen door and through the garden. That meant scaling a six-foot wall, and she wasn’t ready to do that . . . not yet anyway.
Jewel gripped a handful of skirt, her thoughts spiraling. There had to be another way out of the house besides touching Hunsdon. She pressed her shoulders into the wall, feeling as if she was going to be sick. You can do this, she encouraged herself.
She eased down the steps, resting a hand on Addie’s still warm back. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She took a shaky breath, knowing if she didn’t continue moving, she’d fall apart. She must keep going. Addie wouldn’t have given up over her. Addie would have persevered. She would do the same.
She starched her backbone, squared her shoulders, and crossed to where Hunsdon’s body lay. He was on his back, his face turned away from her, arms splayed out over his head. The keys were visible where his suit coat had fallen to the side. They dangled there, mocking her. She closed her eyes, took a step, and inched her way closer to him until she could touch him with her toe. He can’t be dead can he? She held her breath as she reached to grab the ring. A surreal awareness that her nightmare might be over at last made her dizzy. She expelled the air she’d been holding. Freedom!
Without warning, a throaty snarl like that of a wild beast emanated from Hunsdon. Solid bands encircled her calf, yanking her down. She tumbled on top of him with a shriek. His hand bit deep into her leg, making her cry out.
“I . . . will . . . kill . . . you,” he rasped.
Jewel kicked, no longer capable of rational thought. An instinct outside her body took over. She slammed her palms into his chest, pushing herself up, thrashing to get away from his grip. The heel of her foot colliding with what she hoped was his face. He howled in pain and turned loose. Like a blind woman, she bolted down the hall, through the dining room, back through the kitchen, and out to the courtyard.
Her mouth tasted of blood. Shivers of cold radiated through her legs as her bare feet slapped against the smooth stones. Where would she hide? A mist swirled around the garden, surrounding her, pressing in. With heart pounding, she paused and tried to gain her bearing. He would be right on her heels. Which way to run? Trapped!
Desperate to get as far away as possible, she moved to the farthest wall and crouched beneath an oversize oak. She wrapped her arms around her knees and prayed.
“I know you’re out here, Jewel.” His voice carried across the cool night air. “You see . . . you can’t defeat me. I’ll get you in the end.” He was silent. When he spoke again several minutes later, he was closer, a little to the left of her.
A whisper of wind tugged at the shredded remains of her sleeve. The tattered pieces of delicate material hung from her shoulder. Damp air seeped in all around her. She dug her chin into her knees to keep her teeth from chattering. The combination of cold and nerves were catching up with her. Her muscles twitched and shivered.
Hunsdon’s chilling laugh filled the dark garden. She was certain he was farther from her this time, but he still blocked the door. The air was thick and sticky as dew saturated the foliage in a fine mist. Harsh night voices of insects and frogs chorused together with Hunsdon’s threats. She smacked her hands over her ears to block out the horrible sounds.
Help me, Lord. She needed a miracle. Suddenly Theodosia crawled from beneath the bush. The kitten brushed her soft head against Jewel’s legs running a rough tongue over her bare toes.
Theodosia, you angel!
The cat would be her distraction, a means to divert Hunsdon’s attention so she could run back into the house. Perhaps she could make it to Addie’s room, bar the door and escape through the window. Why hadn’t she thought of that in the first place? Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Sorry, Theo,” she whispered. She kissed the kitten’s nose by way of apology, took aim, and tossed her into the soft snowball bush several feet away in hopes she’d make enough noise to distract Hunsdon.
The confused feline let out a shriek as she sailed through the air, landed in the bush, and crashed through the leaves to come out unscathed. Jewel waited for the sound of Hunsdon’s feet pounding the stone slabs in one direction and then tore out in the other.
If only she could sprout wings and fly over those ivy-covered walls. Instead, she had one chance. She ran in the route she hoped was the kitchen. The ground beneath her blurred. Rocks and stones bruised her feet, but she kept on, her lungs burning. Terror ran right on her heels. He had seen her now, and his heavy soles struck the slabs, gaining speed. She poured all her strength into her legs.
The door was in sight. Just a few more inches . . . and . . . suddenly her ankle turned, her knee buckled—a slight misstep, but sufficient to give Hunsdon the ground he needed to catch up. He caught hold of her, grabbing her hair . . . always the hair. The pressure made her pull up short of the kitchen threshold. He released her long enough to spin her around and slam her back against the stone wall of the house. The solid rock showed no mercy. Her head exploded with white spirals of light.
Jewel shook her head to clear the gray globs of fuzz dancing before her eyes. Hunsdon’s face swam in and out of focus before righting itself.
His chuckle was condescending, his lips twisted in a contemptuous smile. “You never did let me finish my story.” He had her by the throat, whispering the words in a honey-smooth voice while his fingers increased their pressure.
She needed air. Sweet. Precious. Air. She clawed at him, desperate to pry his grip loose.
“I told you this wouldn’t end well.” His face fell from a smirk to anger as he slammed her head into the wall again. The gray globs swarmed closer, faster. Then a sudden white-hot flash of pain, before the shapeless splotches of light consumed her.
*****
Blackness weighed upon Jewel like a dense mantle. An attempt to open her eyes resulted in debilitating agony inside her skull. Her arms were lead ballasts pinned to her side. Her battered body screamed with fatigue. A slight rocking gave her the sense of movement. Her thoughts seemed to be swimming in mud as she tried to discern the source of the vibration. The area beneath her was soft, plush. She thought she detected an odor of gasoline, but it was hard to tell—difficult
to breathe at all. She attempted to sit up, but a restraining barrier prevented it. All at once, it dawned on her. The car! She struggled to stay awake, but the amorphous forms gathered once more, dragging her back into their world of nothingness.
The next time she awoke, she had the sense of being pulled, lifted. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. The blood surged in her ears, with each bone-jarring step. She tried to speak, but only a muffled moan escaped from her mouth. The movement stopped. She heard a grunt and felt herself lowered to the ground with a jolt.
The impact caused the horde of gray globs to swarm like angry gnats, gathered at the edges of her vision. “No,” she whispered. She couldn’t pass out again. Please, God, help me! She struggled. Something encased her in a snare of fabric. A blanket? It was too dark to see, just a sea of sounds, movement, and pain. Bit by bit the material fell away, allowing cool air to brush across her skin. What was happening now?
Open your eyes! Danger! They refused to obey.
Instead, her senses told her she was once more being lifted. Another moan slipped from her lips. More steps and then a pause. The touch of cold wind rippled over her body, the sense of being suspended, and then nothing beneath her. She was falling down, down, down . . . into a dark emptiness. An icy splash punctuated her fall. The water surged in, swirling and churning around her . . .
*****
Hunsdon braced himself as he peered over the bridge into the choppy black water below. He watched the remains of her frothy gown dissolve as the dark waters of the James swallowed them up. Regret enveloped him and settled in his chest. He felt like a small child who had broken his favorite toy. He clutched the blanket he’d used to conceal her when he had removed her body from the courtyard to his trunk. He hadn’t meant to kill her. For a moment, he considered jumping in after her, but gave himself a mental shake. Even in death, her witch’s spell clung to him causing him to experience emotions he couldn’t understand. There wasn’t time for remorse. There were too many loose ends to tie together. He must take care of Addie. Perhaps he’d plant her in the garden next to Culpeper.
Timeless Moments Page 26
