Marcy looked at the clock. It was 10:10.
That cemetery was on the way to Patricia and Stephen’s manor. It would take her nearly an hour to get there on foot. Cursing herself for taking so long to figure out the hidden message in Pandora’s other missive, she fled out the room. She almost ran straight out the front door but then thought better of it. She couldn’t just race out to the cemetery without something to protect her and Lewis. Pandora was ready to kill him. Whether she intended to use poison or some other weapon, she needed to make sure she had something to use for defense.
She spun on her heel and ran to the kitchen. After a moment, she picked out the sharpest knife she could find. Then, realizing she would look like she’d lost her senses if someone saw her running out of London with a knife, she ran to her bedchamber and retrieved a cloak.
Once she slipped the cloak on, she wrapped it around her body then hurried down to the drawing room to see what time it was. 10:15. She’d lost more time grabbing the knife and cloak than she wished she had, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
It was 10:28. She still had enough time to get there. She bolted out of the townhouse, quickly shutting the door on her way out, and headed for the cemetery.
Chapter Twenty
When Lewis woke up, he was aware of the shooting pain in the back of his head. He also realized he was sitting against something hard. His wrists and ankles were tied together in front of him. There was a cloth secured over his mouth so he couldn’t yell out for help.
He was on a cold, smooth surface. If he had to guess, he would say he was sitting on granite. He opened his eyes and winced. The moonlight coming in through the open doorway was hitting his eyes, and while it shouldn’t cause him more pain, it did.
Where was he?
He looked down and saw that a rope had been wound around his chest and to the hard object behind him, making him sit straight up. He was in a small granite enclosure. Except for the doorway, there didn’t seem to be any other way of getting in or out. And if he guessed right, the only other thing in here, besides him, was the thing he was tied to.
Where was he? And how did he get here?
He struggled to recall the last thing that had happened to him. He had taken the carriage to his townhouse. Then he had left it, and he made it into the townhouse. He shook off the foggy sensation in his mind that wanted to suppress his memories. Miss Charville. Yes, the last person he recalled seeing was Miss Charville.
He’d gone into the townhouse, and Marcy wasn’t there. He searched the whole place for her and didn’t find her. He was about to leave when he heard someone come up from behind him. He turned and saw Miss Charville. Before he could react, she struck the back of his head with something heavy. He stumbled and hit the wall, and after that, she put something over his mouth that made him lose consciousness.
And the next thing he knew, he was here. In this place. Wherever this place was.
He couldn’t see anything in the dark space around him. The only light was coming from the doorway, and that was moonlight. He tried to focus on what was outside, but doing so only intensified the pain that shot up from the back of his neck and wound its way to his forehead.
The only time he’d felt this bad was when Patricia’s insane half-brother and the gypsy had drugged him and all of the others in Stephen’s manor. He’d been having dinner when the world started spinning around him. Before he had time to get up, he ended up falling asleep right there at the table. When he woke up, he felt as if someone had rammed his head right up against a wall.
He had to figure out where he was. He had to know. He couldn’t get out of his predicament if he didn’t know where he was.
He blinked a couple of times and renewed his efforts. Pushing past the pain, he stared outside. It was mostly dark. There were trees. Shadows from those trees grew long on the ground. There were some rectangular objects in the shadows. Some were larger than others. At first, he thought they might be animals—sheep or goats or maybe even cows—but they didn’t move. Also, they weren’t making any noise.
Everything was quiet. And, when he took a moment to focus further, he smelled dirt. There was no smell of manure that animals produced. The dirt was fresh. Almost clean. Freshly dug up, perhaps. And, if he was right, there was a scent of rain in the air. He listened, and after a moment, he heard a few raindrops softly falling from outside.
He turned his head to look behind him, but he couldn’t see anything but a large smooth, hard object that he was bound to. He wiggled. The rope was tight. He was secured to this spot. He moved his hands and feet, but those ropes were tight, too.
Miss Charville had brought him here. But why? What could she possibly want with him?
Then he recalled the note the butler gave him that was supposedly from Marcy. It’d told him to come home. And when he’d gotten there, Marcy wasn’t there. Miss Charville had been there instead.
But why?
How did Miss Charville know his wife’s Christian name? He hadn’t told it to her, and he didn’t recall telling the Duke or Duchess of Larkinson, either. Marcy never mentioned knowing Miss Charville. So how could she know Marcy’s name?
He wasn’t going to get his answer right now. Given the fact that he was tied to something, he didn’t know if he was ever going to find out about it. Things might not turn out as well as they had for Stephen and Patricia. No one had tied them up. At least they had the option of running.
He turned his attention back to his surroundings. All right. The rectangular shapes outside weren’t animals. He’d established that. So he wasn’t on farmland. But he was outside of London because of the smell of the earth that lingered in the air. There were no people nearby.
At least…no living people.
All at once, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
A cemetery. Those rectangular objects were gravestones.
Miss Charville had brought him to a cemetery.
And she had tied him to a tomb that was inside a mausoleum.
He renewed his efforts to try to wiggle out of his ropes. If he could get his hands free… If he could get his feet free… If he could get his body free… But no matter how much he strained against the ropes, he couldn’t free himself from any of the restraints.
Out of breath, he settled back against the tomb. All he could do was wait. Wait and see what Miss Charville planned to do to him. He could only hope that Marcy was all right. Hopefully, Miss Charville hadn’t been able to tie her up somewhere in this cemetery. God willing, Marcy wouldn’t end up like him.
***
Ignoring the sprinkle of rain, Miss Pandora Charville poured sherry into two glasses. Making sure the peasant didn’t see her, she took out a small pouch from the pocket of her coat and sprinkled the hemlock into the peasant’s drink. He wouldn’t die right away, but he’d be dead by morning. By then, he would be back in the little hovel where he lived. Which would make it impossible for anyone to connect her to him.
She didn’t know where he lived, exactly, nor did she care. He had agreed to do the job of transporting Lord Pruett here and tying him to her mother’s tomb. He hadn’t asked questions, and she hadn’t offered any answers. She preferred working with people like this peasant. They made things much easier. Their need for money outweighed their curiosity.
She hadn’t needed to use hemlock in a long time, but she’d always kept it around. One never knew when it was going to be necessary. Once again making sure the peasant wasn’t watching her from where he stood by the carriage she’d had him rent, she closed up the pouch then slipped it back into her pocket.
Marcy would be here soon. She had no doubt that Marcy would be coming for Lord Pruett. Then, she could take care of her.
She collected the two glasses and left the gravestone by her mother’s mausoleum. It was time to take care of loose ends.
When she reached the peasant, she held out the glass of sherry with the hemlock mixed into it. “Well done. I thought we’d have a dri
nk to celebrate not getting caught. After the drink, I’ll pay you.”
He took the glass from her, showing her his two missing teeth. “Ye have beauty that masks the devil, me lady.”
“Even the devil can masquerade as an angel,” she teased. “Drink up.” Then she took a sip of her own sherry.
He actually smelled worse than he looked. She doubted he had any family. If he had friends, they were probably all drunks. No one would miss him.
Once he finished drinking from his glass, she gave him the coins from her coat pocket.
“If ye need anything else, ye let me know,” he said as he gave her back her glass.
“All right.” Of course, she wouldn’t need anything else from him, but she decided to keep that thought to herself.
She watched as he got on the horse and led the carriage out of the cemetery. Then she poured out the contents from her glass and returned to the grave near her mother’s mausoleum. The ground was slowly becoming moist, which made her steps softer as she walked over the graves.
She reached the grave by the mausoleum and set the glasses next to the decanter. She glanced at the door, which was still open. She wondered if Lord Pruett was awake yet. Unable to resist her curiosity, she walked up the two steps and entered the granite structure. As she hoped, he was awake. And better yet, he stiffened as soon as he saw her. Good. She liked it when people showed fear. It gave her a nice boost of power.
“I left Marcy a missive in the drawing room of your townhouse,” she told him. “I’m sure she’ll be coming for you. By the way you two looked at each other at Mr. Jasper’s ball, I can tell she loves you with all of her heart. She’ll do anything to save you. Unfortunately,” she pulled a dagger from the belt around her waist and showed it to him, “she won’t succeed.”
His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head as he tried to tell her something. The cloth she’d secured around his mouth prevented her from knowing what he had to say, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like she was interested in hearing whatever pitiful retort he had.
She removed her coat, revealing the fact that she was wearing breeches and a gentleman’s shirt. She had the nagging suspicion Marcy was going to put up a fight, and those could get awfully messy. Plus, she had the unpleasant task of burying Marcy and her husband in the grave the peasant had dug for her. Both tasks wouldn’t be all that easy to accomplish if she kept on her coat, or wore a gown.
She folded her coat and walked over to her mother’s tomb so she could set it down. She chuckled as he made an attempt to scoot away from her. Like he could go anywhere with the ropes tying him in place. But it was amusing he tried.
She glanced down at Lord Pruett. He was a bit attractive, she supposed, if one liked the boyish look. Other than that, she couldn’t imagine why Marcy had chosen to leave her hiding spot in order to join him in London where she risked being discovered. He wasn’t a good conversationalist. He wasn’t all that intelligent. And he certainly wasn’t charming. She shook her head. Oh well. It didn’t matter. The two would be dead before the hour was up.
She stepped around the tomb and went to the doorway. She turned back to face him, one hand holding the dagger and the other hand on her hip.
“I’ll let you and Marcy have one more moment together before I get rid of you both,” she told him. “You might want to think of what your last words to her will be.”
Giving him a wave, she smiled then left the mausoleum.
***
Marcy reached the cemetery just as the rain went from a sprinkle to a steady drizzle. The clouds had blocked out the moonlight, making it harder for her to see where everything was in the dismal place. She made it to a tree and collapsed against it, winded from all the running she’d just done.
She hated cemeteries. Ever since her mother died, she’d hated them. They meant separation from loved ones. This was where people went after they died from an illness…or from poison.
Pushing aside the shiver that crawled up her spine, she tightened her grip on the knife. Lewis was in there somewhere. But he was not going to stay here. She was taking him home with her. And Pandora wasn’t going to threaten to take him away from her ever again. Whatever she had to do, she was going to make sure he didn’t die.
She knew the full hour hadn’t passed yet, but it was getting close. She didn’t have much time. But first, she needed to steel her resolve. As her breathing slowed, she lowered the hood of her cloak and took a good look at the cemetery. She didn’t see anyone moving around in it. There were a lot of gravestones and a few mausoleums. Several trees obscured parts of the cemetery from view, but overall, the grounds were maintained well enough so she’d be able to navigate her way through without any problems.
If only she knew where Lewis and Pandora were.
It was possible they had seen her. Specifically, it was possible Pandora had seen her. There was a group of trees lining the cemetery, and though Marcy had gone behind them on her way here, it was no guarantee that she was going to have the advantage of creeping up on Pandora.
She glanced behind her to make sure Pandora wasn’t there. Good. It was just trees and the dirt road leading to London. An unfamiliar carriage had passed her by on her way here, but she had hidden behind a tree. It wouldn’t do her any favors to have someone say they’d seen her this evening. If things were going to turn out the way she feared, she would have blood on her hands again.
Another shiver crawled up her spine. No, she couldn’t think that way.
You have no choice this time. If Pandora truly means to kill Lewis, you have a right to defend him. It’s not murder if you’re protecting someone else.
Focusing on the task ahead of her, she crouched down and proceeded forward.
Chapter Twenty-One
The damp ground gave slightly under Marcy’s weight as she crept from one gravestone to another. She didn’t want to give away her location, which was why she crawled for the most part. Standing up, even if she was crouching down, would make her easy to find. Yes, she was ruining her favorite gown by doing this, but what good was a gown if she didn’t have Lewis? If the deaths of her mother and father had taught her nothing else, it was how important loved ones were. No number of gowns could ever replace the hole death left in someone’s life.
The only thing that bothered her about the gown, as well as the cloak, was how cumbersome it was to move. They kept twisting around her legs, and this slowed her down. It also didn’t help that she was having a terrible time figuring out where Lewis was.
She didn’t have a pocket watch on her, but she knew the minutes were ticking against her. She had already worked her way into the middle of the cemetery, but she didn’t think she had enough time to keep creeping through to the other side. She was going to run out of time if she kept up this slow pace.
She leaned against the gravestone and debated if she should just jump up and take her chances. She’d get further a lot faster if she was on her feet. But did she dare risk the exposure? Pandora was out there waiting for her. She had no idea where Pandora was. She assumed Pandora had a weapon. How else could Pandora threaten to kill Lewis if she didn’t have a weapon? Pandora couldn’t be bluffing. Pandora might be playing a game with her, but Marcy believed with all of her heart that she intended to follow through with the threat.
Marcy pulled off the hood of her cloak and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Despite the drizzle and the fact that it was evening, it was hot. After a moment, she shrugged out of the cloak. Before she cast it aside, a thought came to her. She glanced at the gravestone behind her. There was a good chance Pandora might not take the bait, but Marcy had to do something to shift the odds so that they were more in her favor.
On impulse, she crawled over to the gravestone and set the cloak on it, making sure it was secure. Then she crawled away from it as fast as the gown would allow. With any luck, Pandora would go over to it.
She made it to the next row of gravestones when she realized Pandora wasn’t fooled. Pandora was still
hiding. Drat!
Blinking the light rain from her eyes, Marcy gave another scan of the cemetery. From this angle, she saw that the doorway of a mausoleum was open. Her gaze went to the other mausoleums. All of those doorways were closed.
Lewis had to be in there. He just had to be!
Making sure the knife was secure in her hand, she bolted up and ran for the mausoleum. She didn’t have time to check her surroundings. She had one goal, and if she lost her focus, she would slow down. Right now, she had to get to Lewis. Nothing else mattered.
She slipped once on the soggy ground. She had to grab onto the nearest gravestone to regain her balance. She almost dropped her knife as a result, but she managed to keep her hold on it. She pushed away from the gravestone then continued toward the entrance.
If she could just make it in time…
Surely, a full hour hadn’t passed yet.
She didn’t know what she’d do if she got there and found that she’d been too late, that Lewis was already dead.
Ignoring the way fear made her body tremble, she made it to the mausoleum and ran up the steps. She rushed inside and called out for Lewis before she realized he was sitting right in front of her. He was tied to a tomb that housed one casket, but he was there. And he was alive!
Crying out in relief, she ran over to him and used the knife to cut through the ropes binding him to the tomb. Then she hurried to remove the cloth from his mouth.
“Behind you,” Lewis whispered.
She turned in time to see Pandora coming at her, a dagger over her head. Marcy dodged the dagger and kicked Pandora so that Pandora tumbled forward and fell to her knees. Marcy used the moment to get to her feet. She went after Pandora, but Pandora was too quick for her.
Pandora whirled around and struck Marcy across the arm with the dagger. The cut wasn’t deep, but pain shot up her arm and to her shoulder. She struck out at Marcy again. Marcy managed to avoid getting cut a second time. She lunged forward with her own knife but only hit air.
One Enchanted Evening (Marriage by Fairytale Book 2) Page 18
