In the Time of the Caveman

by Samantha Leal

  “Either way, Pearl had the child and he was looked after by her sister. Charles continued to believe that the child was his and paid for the upkeep. He was due to inherit on Charles’s death, but when he reached eighteen he got involved with a rough lot and ended up in prison for theft and involvement in murder. It was only with my intervention that he did not hang and I managed to get him released after five years of imprisonment. When Charles found out, he disinherited the boy and any hope of inheritance was dashed. It was then that we got the idea to blackmail poor Charles. Having a convicted murderer and thief for a son wouldn’t have looked good for him, so we started to exhort money from the man. It worked for a while but on his release from prison, Charles refused to hand over any more money. It was then that we knew he had to die.”

  Edward stopped to draw breath, pleased with his scheme and the telling of it.

  Christabel struggled to take in all that she was hearing. Poor Charles. To have been fooled and lied to by his brother for the past twenty-five years and then killed for gain; it did not bear thinking of.

  “But Mr. Crawley was not disinherited from the will; I heard it from Mr. Lewis’s lips for myself. The whole estate has been left to him.” The words had barely left her lips when the door to the stairway burst open. Christabel looked on in alarm and almost fainted as she looked eye to eye with Mr. Andrew Crawley! He was holding a gun and pointing it at Edward.

  Surely she was dreaming, or perhaps she really was ill? Her gaze drifted from the young man that had so roughly held her, to the young man that had so recently stepped through the door. They were identical, their features exact, although there was a difference. She could see that now. Where one was cold and mean, the other was warm and kind.

  “I think we had better make the introductions. Albert Adams please let me introduce your brother, Mr. Andrew Crawley.”

  The two men looked at each other in awe as if glancing at their own reflection; both not quite believing what each other where seeing. The gun dropped from Andrew’s hand, the unexpected turn of events knocking all the former conviction from him.

  Christabel gasped. She had known immediately which one was ’her’ Mr. Crawley, she had felt it in her heart almost straight away.

  “You see. I forgot to mention that when Pearl gave birth it was to twins. Whilst her sister could cope with one boy, she didn’t want the two and so they were split at birth and have never known of each other’s existence until this moment. Andrew seemed to have all of the goodness that was in me, and Albert all of the badness. Where Albert got in with the wrong crowd, Andrew was sent away to school and did well. It’s unfortunate that no one else knows about the two. You see our little plan means that we can substitute Albert for Andrew and no one will ever know but for Pearl and myself.”

  “And what about Andrew, he is your own son?” Christabel spoke where the poor young man could not.

  “I’m afraid that he will meet the same sticky end as you, my dear. They say that blood is thicker than water, but not money I’m afraid, in my case. Besides, what would dear Anne say? She knows nothing of this. Why did you think I had to put on such an act at the solicitor’s office? I thought I was most convincing, don’t you?”

  “But I thought that you were contesting the will?”

  “Only as a red herring. I was only reacting as other people thought I might in such circumstances! Who would ever suspect me?”

  Andrew came to his senses, realizing that he had dropped his gun and that it was now lying at his feet, yet before he could react, Albert pounced forward and wrestled his brother to the ground. The two men fought for the weapon and as Edward tried to grab hold of Christabel there was a loud bang as the gun was fired and a smell of sulphur filled the air.

  The two men stopped fighting and all seemed still for a moment. Mrs. Hudson who had been on the edge of a drunken sleep came suddenly to life and clutched at her bosom with the shock.

  At first Christabel feared that Andrew had been shot. Edward had just reached her and his arm was wrapped around her shoulder. Suddenly, she felt his hold slacken; a surprised glaze blinding his vision as he fell back against the table and onto the floor. Edward was dead.

  Pearl Hudson let out a scream as both men looked on in horror.

  “Why didn’t you tell me I had a brother?” The young man walked accusingly over to the housekeeper, his eyes full of hate. “Why didn’t you tell me mother?”

  Their eyes locked for a second as Pearl stepped forward towards her son. “Kill them both Albert, and then we can have the money for ourselves.”

  Albert shook his head, his face white. “Why didn’t you tell me mother?”

  His finger pulled the trigger and Mrs. Hudson staggered towards them, her red eyes bulging as a dribble of blood appeared in the corner of her mouth and she fell forward onto the floor to join Edward.

  Another noise penetrated the air. This time it was the shrill and piercing tone of a police whistle. Standing in fear, Albert stood paralyzed for a second; the gun wavering in his hands.

  Christabel edged towards Andrew as all three stood in silence.

  Footsteps clattered on the stairs as three policemen burst into the room. Stepping forward towards his brother, Andrew Crawley held out his hand for the gun. Albert reached across with his empty hand to touch his brother for a brief second before turning the gun and shooting himself dead.

  Epilogue

  The inquest was a harrowing affair for all concerned. The grim facts concerning the murder of the late Lord Charles Montgomery were soon known and subsequently plastered all over the daily headlines, but would soon be forgotten by all, except for those involved.

  It had been a ghastly affair and the subsequent murder of Hannah and the violent killings of Edward, Mrs. Hudson, and Albert were simply down to greed and one man’s hatred and jealousy for his own brother.

  Christabel looked out of the window, hardly believing the events of the last few weeks. Her sorrow for the demise of poor Charles and Hannah lay heavy on her heart. Even Albert Adams had been a pawn in the dangerous game that Edward and Pearl had been playing. She shivered to think of the cold eyes of Edward looking into hers, the same cold heart that had no room for even his own offspring; only money and riches.

  She had known that Pearl Hudson was a hard woman, but it was difficult to believe that any woman could abandon her own children for the sake of money, using them in a vicious game even against each other. In the end, it had been her undoing.

  Christabel could see now why the woman had fainted in Mr. Lewis’s office; seeing her boy for the first time in years had made even the hard-nosed Pearl weaken. Yet any feeling that remained for her sons was outshone by the promise of wealth from Edward Montgomery. Once Andrew had inherited Charles’ estate it would have been easy to kill Andrew and replace him with Albert. What Pearl and Edward hadn’t expected was the effect that the two boys meeting each other face to face would have.

  Maybe, blood was thicker than water in the end?

  There was a knock at the door and Stephens entered; his face solemn and perhaps a little wearier than before. The news of Mrs. Hudson had shaken him deeply and Christabel wondered if he had secretly carried a flame for the hard woman all these years.

  “You have a visitor madam.”

  Christabel winced at the possibility of Englebert. She had heard he had tried to see her many times while she had been kept ill by Edward. She was glad that his persistence in her had seemed to wan after he had found a new young thing to chase after. The marriage market was in full season and he was a wealthy man – though old – he would find a young miss for his bed. “Who is it Stevens?”

  “Mr. Andrew Crawley, madam.”

  Christabel smiled; at least one good thing had come of this whole affair. Smoothing down her dress, she stepped towards the door.

  Andrew Crawley rushed into the room; some of the darkness and cloud now lifted from his brow. The same feeling of longing fluttered in her chest.

  “
Christabel, I have good news! Mr. Lewis has been in touch and I am due to sign the paperwork tomorrow, your home will be safe after all. You have no need to worry about the future.”

  Almost on impulse she fled towards him, expecting his arms to open wide in greeting, but she had almost forgotten that he was not like the other men she knew and he looked awkwardly at the ground and she almost thought that she saw him blush.

  She stopped in front of him, her arms quickly moving back to her side as she paused, embarrassed by her own presumptuous nature. It was not after all a ladylike way to act. “That is great news Mr. Crawley. I cannot thank you enough for your generosity.”

  Shaking his head, he smiled wryly. “Please call me Andrew. This is your house now, Lady Montgomery and I am sure you would have been the main beneficiary of your late husband’s will had he not met such an untimely end. I am merely trying to address the balance, keep an order to such things.”

  His eyes were clear and honest without a hint of malevolence or greed and her heart skipped a beat. Whereas she had been in lust with Charles, she had begun to fall in love with Mr. Crawley. Hopelessly and helplessly, and there seemed that there was nothing she could do about it. Other men seemed to throw themselves at her feet, or other parts of her anatomy, but the man she truly wanted was keeping himself at a distance. She wondered why.

  “Please call me Christabel. I feel too young to be called Lady Montgomery. Perhaps you will call again, along with Mrs. Crawley?” Christabel held her breath. She had to find out his position and asking outright seemed the only way.

  “There is no Mrs. Crawley. I am a bachelor I am afraid that up until now I haven’t had much to offer a prospective bride; perhaps that will change once I inherit Charles’ money?” His words caused a little stab of pain inside her chest. She had not thought of that. Mr. Crawley with his looks and money would be the toast of London society.

  Christabel sighed, “Yes, I’m afraid half of London’s eligible young ladies will be beating a way to your door Mr. Crawley. You will be a popular young man and will have that pleasurable dilemma of deciding which woman will grace your arm.”

  The man looked at his feet, a little uncomfortable. “I’m afraid that does not sound at all pleasurable to me. I have little experience with women in general and I am afraid that I have already lost my heart but it is a hopeless case.” His face reddened as he spoke the words and he stopped abruptly as if he had said too much.

  So he was in love with another woman; that would account for his aloofness. Christabel let her shoulders sag a little; at least she would have her own income and wouldn’t be subject to the mercy of Englebert Williams.

  “Nothing is hopeless Mr. Crawley. I think that your young lady can hardly resist an offer; especially now that you are due to inherit; go to her Andrew and be happy.”

  Stepping towards him she held out her hand in friendship. Her heart was aching, but there was little more she could do. If the man was in love, than best let him be. A true and honest man was hard to find and she envied the mysterious young lady.

  Taking her hand gently in his, he paused, looking down at the slim fingers in his own. “I don’t believe it is as easy as you say Christabel. For you see the woman I have set my heart on does not even know of my intent and it would not seem proper in the circumstances.”

  The young woman smiled at his earnest face. “Then tell her Andrew. Every woman wants to be loved and you must open up your heart, whatever the circumstances. If I were the young lady, then I would want to know.”

  “Truly?” His face almost brightened for a moment as his blue eyes looked deeply into hers.

  She smiled.

  “Then I will try to do as you suggest Lady Montgomery-Christabel. You see the lady in question is still mourning the untimely death of her husband. How do you suggest that I approach the subject?”

  The smile from Christabel’s lips slipped as he spoke, her eyes widening at his words. He was talking about her and she stood in shock for a few moments.

  “You see, I knew it was not appropriate. Please forgive me.” Dropping her hand, he turned quickly and headed for the door.

  “Andrew, please don’t go.” As he turned around she rushed into his arms, all protocol abandoned. He kissed her face with small, gentle kisses and she realized that she was crying. His arms wrapped strongly around her and a warmth spread across her heart.

  “Oh Christabel, I have felt this way ever since I first saw you at the church. I never dreamed that you would feel the same way.”

  He kissed her gently on the mouth and she almost swooned; her head lighter than air. So this was love; true love. Lust was one thing, but love was the thing she had been missing, and now she had finally found it.

  A knock at the door interrupted their canoodling and as Stephens entered the couple moved apart. “I just wondered if you and Mr. Crawley would like tea, My Lady.”

  Christabel could barely stifle a giggle as she nodded across to old Stephens.

  “Will that be all, madam?”

  The young girl grinned as she looked fondly on the old retainer. “I think that there will be two for dinner tonight Stephens.”

  And before he left the room, Christabel thought she saw the old man smile.

  THE END

  Finding Love in a Dark World: Book 1

  Cynthia Wilde

  Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Wilde. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  Earth is not what it once was, or so the story goes. It had been over twenty years since the third World War began. America was pulled into a conflict between China and Japan over a small set of islands that bordered the two nations. Russia and Iran jumped on one side and most of Europe and Australia jumped on the other. What had begun as a little dispute over a little island in the sea ended up killing billions of people.

  War no longer resembled the entity it once was in the beginning of the 20th century. There were no more boots on the ground. Instead, war was fought with drones and weapons of mass destruction; nuclear weapons were a threat now turned into a reality. Once the first strike was launched, many more followed. No one even knew who started it or why it had begun, and there were few left to wonder. Less than one percent of the population survived the combination of bombs, radiation, EMPs, hunger, civil wars, weaponized flu strains and the full breakdown of society. Many people could not deal with the world the way things were. Many were driven to end their suffering themselves, taking their families with them.

  Large cities were turned to rubble and most people didn’t dare go near them. Hundreds of thousands of house pets had taken over the urban areas. They had changed from comfort providing companions into radioactively-charged beasts. A few human survivors still lived in the midst of the chaos, though they lived in the underground, only coming out in the mornings while the beasts slept. Humans were no longer the top of the food chain. They had to learn humility in their new role in the world.

  Humans now carved out small communities that were usually no more than a few hundred people, and they quickly learned to stay close together for safety. There were no governments, though there were leaders and followers as there had always been. Man’s evils still found their way into this new world, as they always had in the past.

  1

  Jessa sighed. It was going to be another hot day. She looked up at the sky and didn’t see a cloud in sight. There hadn’t been rain in weeks and the plants needed it. She resigned herself to fetching pails to water the garden instead. After she was done in her own yard, she still had to tend to the community garden in town. She braced herself for a long day.

  They were always long days. She couldn’t remember it any other way. If only they still had those huge irrigation booms that she remembered passin
g in her childhood. She had passed by them as a little girl, riding in a car back then, with the wind blowing her hair back from her face. Jessa smiled from the memory.

  After a few hours of watering, Jessa was finally finished, with that part of her day anyways. Her son was wandering around the flowers, looking for bugs. She had to smile at his antics. He was always happy, no matter what. She had feared that the death of his father would make him change for good, but after only a few years he was getting back to himself. Kids were resilient. Jessa sometimes wished that he could remember like she did, the way things were, but maybe this way was actually how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was easier for those that did not have the “before” memories to make the days now seem so much darker by comparison. Or maybe it was better to think of those memories of happier days as bright patches that lit up her life, however fleetingly, before the sun was blotted out again.

  “Shane my love, time to come help me in the greenhouse, we have a lot of planting to do this afternoon.”

  “Coming Mom.”

  The rest of the day was spent under the clear plastic of the three greenhouses in the community garden. It was Jessa’s responsibility to make sure there were always new sprouts and plants to replace the old for the next crop. The village she lived in did not have a name, but they had taken her and her son in after her previous home became uninhabitable. Something had been present in the water, and it had killed most of the community. Her husband, Kraven had gotten them across what once was Mississippi before he died. Jessa found the small village twenty or thirty miles north of his final resting place. She was not sure what state she would be in now, maybe Kentucky would be a good guess, though it really didn’t matter where those once important imaginary lines were now.