I backed away from her, my skin crawling with disbelief and fear.“Where are Robert and Justin?”
“Maria has them locked away.”
“They ran from the bad witch,” Maria said tonelessly, staring at the night.“I couldn’t catch them.”
Constance laughed. “Silly Justin. He’s been talking about the bad witch since his mother died. You and Francesca are so predictable. Francesca came to the tower, too, worried that Justin and Robert had come up here when they were not in their beds. She checked them every night just like you do, Ann. All it took was an extra dose of laudanum to confuse Francesca, and she followed me right up here.” Constance frowned then.
Nausea and horror churned in my stomach as she continued to talk. “You know, I heard Stephen and Benedict fighting over you tonight. It was rather violent and moving. When they left, I knew you would have to die tonight. You should have heeded the knife I stabbed through your picture and left here. I would have let you go. But now it is too late. My sister’s ghost has come to destroy what Benedict and Stephen have grown to love, just like she promised in her curse. A good story, no? The curse I wrote seemed to be working well until you came.”
She stepped closer, peering at me intently, and continued to talk. “I have been here for years, and no one has paid the slightest attention to me, other than to humor my shopping desires. You are here two months, and both Benedict and Stephen are so enamored of you they are at each others’ throats.” She cocked her head. “I do not understand it. You are not beautiful. You do little to make yourself appealing. So why do they love you?”
“They do not,” I told her, backing to the center of the room. There were windows all around the top of the turret. I could see the lightning flash across the midnight sky, lighting the angry waters of the black bay. Rain blasted in with the wind, dampening my robe and gown.
“They do. But that isn’t the main reason you need to die, Ann. You need to die because you are not going to stop searching. You are not going to stop asking questions until you get the answer to Francesca’s death, are you? I know that is what you and Mr. McGuire are doing. It is a shame that he will have to die tomorrow. Perhaps he will break his neck falling from a ladder. Or maybe he will be robbed and then shot.” She held up my mother’s pistol and stroked the barrel.
With her every word, my horror grew. I knew I had to keep her talking, keep her distracted until I discovered a way to escape.“Mr. McGuire does not know anything.”
“Yes, he does, Ann. Do not lie to me. I know many things about everyone. I even read your mother’s journal. She was weak, Ann, not strong like I am. If she had killed her father rather than run away, she would have had all his money, and would never have been taken advantage of.”
“You are the person who kept going through my things.” Forcing myself to stay calm, I took another step back and shot my gaze to Maria, assuring myself that she was still seated.
“Yes. It is time for you to die, Ann.” She pointed the gun at me and looked at me sadly. “Do not be afraid. Francesca assures me that all is peaceful after death. No more pain.”
I shuddered. “Why did you do it? My God, she was your sister!”
I thought thunder boomed, and it wasn’t until the tower’s door flew open, splintering on its hinges, that I realized it was the sound of the door being broken down. Benedict, Stephen, Mr. Henderson, and shockingly, Mr. McGuire barreled into the room.
Maria did nothing but rock back and forth in the chair. Constance backed up to the edge of the room. She laughed and pointed the gun at them, making everyone stop in their tracks.“Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.” She looked at me. “I thought I was the spider, Ann. I really did. But you must be.”
“Why?” I shouted at her again. “Why did you kill your sister?”
Shock covered the men’s faces. “Constance?” Stephen gasped, his disbelief evident.
“Look at you men!” Constance said, shaking her head. “Why are you so stunned that a woman would do what she could to shape her own destiny?
“I ask you, what choices does a woman have in this world of injustices? We are prisoners, slaves to our parents and then to men. The fire. My parents. Do you think that was an accident?” She laughed. “They made my life hell. I had no choice but to kill, just as Francesca had no choice but to marry you. See, they couldn’t marry me to you to save the business, Benedict, for I had been sullied by the touch of a man my father killed rather than see me married to. He murdered first, made me watch the man I loved die. What is love compared to money and social position?”
Constance smiled at me, waving the gun as she continued to speak.“You know class is more important than love, do you not, Ann? I heard Benedict tell Stephen that you wouldn’t marry him. You are smarter than I was. It took me a long time to realize that. Day after day I lived, atoning for my sin of having loved beneath my class, knowing that I killed the man I loved. I served my parents, and I prayed hour upon hour every day for forgiveness, but none came. And poor delicate Francesca, a woman who knew nothing but the fears of a child, had to marry.”
She looked at Benedict with hatred. “You knew that before you married her. You knew that she feared you, your size. But you married her anyway. You did it for greed. Our ships, our trade routes, are what your father’s company needed. And my father sold his daughter to have a male heir born to run his empire. Women were worthless to him except to give birth to what he wanted. Francesca kept herself drugged with laudanum. It was the only way she could face her marital obligation to produce an heir to a man she feared and did not love. So who killed Francesca? Him for selling her? You for taking her?”
She shot her gaze to Stephen.“Or was it you, Stephen? A boy fool enough to fall in love with his brother’s wife, but not man enough to touch her when she came to you for the love her heart craved. How do you think she felt when you denied her, then went calling on your friend’s sister just to show her you meant never to be with her? Don’t you think that drove her to desolation? To more laudanum for her pain? Does it bother you that your supposed friends have written your pain in a play for all the world to see, only giving it the sordid twist of actual betrayal?”
Benedict looked at Stephen, shocked.“You did not touch Francesca?”
“I loved her. How could I dishonor her? I love you. How could I betray you?” The deep sadness in Stephen’s voice resonated within the tower.“My love killed her anyway.”
“No, Stephen, I thought you had, but I was wrong.” Benedict looked to Constance.“She was three months pregnant when she died. Who fathered that child?”
“Pregnant? Impossible. We never—” Stephen’s anguish sliced to my heart.
Constance looked to Mr. Henderson and smiled sweetly at him. “Do you not think it is time you cleared your conscience, Alan?”
Benedict and Stephen both swung around to face their friend, horrified. Alan closed his eyes, pain slashing across his face. “I’m sorry. She was so beautiful. So heartbroken. I held her as she cried. I loved her, too. I tried to give her hope. Instead I destroyed her.”
“Yes,”Constance said, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. “You all destroyed her. And I gave her the peace she sought. We would have both been miserable at the convent where she was determined to go. Determined to spend the rest of her life in penance for her sins. I had already spent years atoning for mine, and I was not going to do that again. Not for her. Not for anybody. I was not going to let Francesca put me back into the hell I had escaped. She calls to me all the time now and tells me about her peace. I envy her, and now I’ve no choice. The spider and the fly.”
Something in her voice alerted me. Something told me what she was going to do. I ran toward her. “Don’t,” I yelled, grabbing for her. I caught her wrist, and the gun fell to the floor.
“No! Let me fly!” Constance screamed and kicked me.
The blow hit me in the stomach, and I doubled forward, coming precariously close to the window ledge. T
hen, as if she knew I would fall, too, Constance pulled hard, jerking me toward her. I let go of her wrist and fought for balance, trying to save myself, all too aware of the smile on Constance’s face as she disappeared from view. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring me in the room.
“Titania. Dear God,” Benedict breathed, pulling me into his arms. I turned to him, burying my face against his chest, trying to shut out the image of Constance’s fall.
“Watch out!” Stephen shouted. Benedict turned. Looking up, I saw Maria pointing a gun toward Benedict and me. She fired at the same time that Mr. Henderson grabbed her arms and Stephen barreled into Benedict and me, knocking us to the floor. The shot went wild, shattering the window over our head.
Disarmed now, Maria sat on the floor, rocking back and forth, reciting repeatedly “The Spider and the Fly.”
“She will not be needing this where she is going to go,” Mr. Henderson said, handing Benedict my mother’s gun after everyone stood but Maria.
“The sooner she’s institutionalized, the better,” Benedict said with disgust.
“I will take Maria downstairs and call the authorities. They will need to see Constance’s body before we move her,” Mr. Henderson said. He was a man burdened by death and regret as he looked sadly at Benedict. “We will need to talk, but it can wait. And when I leave, I will not return.” He looked at me.“You have a new life now—don’t lose it.”We all stood silent as Mr. Henderson pulled a now docile Maria up from the floor and took her out of the room. Maria never stopped mumbling about the spider and the fly. I shivered.
“Christ,” Stephen said, looking at Benedict. “I don’t believe this. I thought you had killed Francesca… or that she had been driven to kill herself by your disgust. I never dreamed Constance killed her sister.”
“She was a troubled lass,” Mr. McGuire said, speaking for the first time as he shook his head. I had almost forgotten his presence. He moved over to me, peering at me through his spectacles, his watery blue eyes filled with worry. “Ye have had a time of it, haven’t ye, lass.”
“I am all right,” I said, and patted his arm. Though I had to admit my mind was still reeling.
“This wouldna have happened if I hadn’t been taken in by her sweet smile at first. The lass kept returning to the shop for this book or that. She heard us speak of Dr. Levinworth, that day she came with you. That’s what made her suspicious. Ye remember, Ann, lass?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump of emotion in my throat. It would have been so easy for Constance to have killed Mr. McGuire, and it was I who had placed him in danger.
Mr. McGuire sighed softly.“The lass kept coming to the shop and asking questions, and talking about her life in a strange way. Then there was Puck. Every time she entered he quoted,‘Et tu, Brute?’ Caesar’s last words to his betrayer. Puck has never consistently quoted the same thing to the same person every time. I grew more suspicious and telegraphed the lass’s hometown, making inquiries. My answers came Saturday, telling all about the troubled lass’s past and the questions about whether the fire that killed her parents was indeed an accident. When you didna come on Saturday, I had Manuelo go ask about you. He found out from a maid that you’d been injured, but were going to be all right. I dinna like it one bit. So I sent ye a note with the story about her past and the fire, but it was apparently delivered to Mr. Trevelyan instead.”
Benedict sighed. “Stephen and I were arguing, and I opened the note on my desk without reading to whom it was addressed. After seeing the information, I realized it was addressed to you. We went to Mr. McGuire’s to ask a few questions, not quite believing that Constance had lived with us for years and yet had never spoken of her past hurt, and the disturbing things about the fire. Mr. McGuire didn’t believe you were unharmed, and I insisted on his returning here to see for himself. I nearly died when we came up the drive and I saw the tower lit and the windows opened.”
I shook myself as a shiver ran down my spine. If Mr. McGuire hadn’t sent his letter, if Benedict hadn’t returned when he did, I wasn’t sure if I would have escaped Constance’s trick.
“The children,” I gasped.
“What?” Benedict cried, grabbing my arm.
“They were not in their beds. We were searching for them. That’s how Constance lured me to the tower. She said she thought they were up here.”
Dobbs barreled into the room, his hair in tufts and his ascot askew. “We have searched the whole house. The children are not here.”
“Cesca,” I cried. “The stables! Maria said Robert and Justin had run from the bad witch, and she could not catch them. It’s a game Robert and Justin played with their wooden horses.”
Benedict grabbed a lamp. “God help us if they’ve ridden off on Cesca. They could ride right over the cliffs in this rain,” he shouted as he ran out the door, Stephen right behind him, and I followed them in my bare feet. I had no idea when and where I lost my slippers. We burst out of the house into the soaking rain, heedless of the lashing wind. Entering the stables, Benedict ran to the end and came to a halt at the last stall. Cesca’s stall.
He didn’t say anything, but I saw his shoulders slump, and my heart dropped. The boys mustn’t be there. I ran to him. He turned and opened his arms, embracing me, and I didn’t care that Stephen and Dobbs were there to see.
“They are here,” he said softly. Looking into the stall, I saw Robert and Justin and Cesca, lying in the hay, snuggled up against Cesca’s side. They were all asleep. They’d put a saddle on her—at least, they had tried to. The saddle hung off to one side.
Justin opened his eyes and saw us. “Miss Lovell, we were responsible. We did not take her out into the dark where she might get hurt. We stayed with her, and she kept us safe from the bad witch.”
Leaving Benedict, I went to Justin, knelt by him, and kissed him on the top of his head, tears filling my eyes.“Oh, Justin, I am very proud of you. You did the right thing, and now the bad witch is gone.”
“Promise?” Robert said, opening his eyes.
“Promise,” Benedict said, kneeling next to me, and pulling Robert to him.
Benedict wrapped his other arm around me, his body shaking with emotion. “Miss Lovell, I’ve come to the conclusion that marrying for social or financial conditions has brought nothing but pain to the Trevelyan name. The only practical thing I can do at this point is to marry for love. Will you marry me, Titania?”
I shook my head, trying to force a no to my lips.
“Yes, she will,” Stephen broke in. “And if she says no, you will shout your love from the treetops. You will lay siege to her self-imposed prison. You will do whatever it takes to show her the depth of your love. You won’t accept the fate that she believes, you will show her there’s a future for you both.”
I smiled tearfully as Stephen repeated back to me what I had told Mr. Simons to do to make Katherine realize his love. To make her know that nothing else mattered. I had asked Katherine if love or fear was greater in her heart, and now I had to answer the question myself.
“Well, Titania? Will you marry me?”
Robert and Justin were looking at me with their hearts in their eyes. My mouth went dry, and my heart hammered with hope as I met Benedict’s gaze. Given the heartache I’d learned of tonight,how so many lives had been wasted or damaged by what I thought to be more important than love, how could I turn from love myself? “Benedict, it is a good thing that I’m a practical woman. And it is even more important that I love you. Nothing else matters. Yes, I will marry you.”
I never imagined that I’d be asked to be the mistress of Trevelyan Hill, and I most assuredly never dreamed it would be when I was on my knees in a stable before a horse. It was a good thing I had such a strong constitution.
Epilogue
Four weeks later…
“Miss Wovell, can I call you Mommy yet?” Robert asked, running into my room where Katherine was helping me dress in my wedding finery. Today she would be my maid of honor, and next week I w
ould return the favor by being her matron of honor. But after the nausea I had been suffering from every morning this past week, I might have to ask them to have a evening wedding rather than a morning one.
He skidded to a stop, his eyes widening as he saw me. “Miss Wovell, you are so beautiful,” he said; then he frowned.“What’s that funny thing on your head?”
“A veil,” I said, ruffling his hair. “And to answer your question, yes, you can call me Mommy, or Mommy Ann, or Miss Ann, whatever your heart tells you to do.” He’d asked the question no less than a hundred times in the past weeks, and I always gave him the same answer, but he wanted to wait until the “official” moment that his father and I became Mr. and Mrs. Benedict Trevelyan.
A quiet knock on the door brought my gaze up to see Justin enter the room. He had a proud smile on his face. “Miss Lovell, I picked this one just for you. Grandmother let me. It was one of my grandfather’s favorites. He brought it back from Beluze, France. It is called ‘Souvenir de LaMalmaison.’ It is named after a famous lady’s house, but I forgot her name.”
“Thank you, Justin. This is so beautiful,” I said, taking the huge, pale pink bloom from him. Justin’s “science book” now included drawings of a number of the different kinds of roses in the Trevelyan gardens, and he and his father were reading Benedict’s father’s book together. That Benedict’s mother let one of the garden’s blooms be picked in my honor would probably be the only gesture of approval that she’d give to the wedding, but it was enough.
“I took all the thorns away. This time I wanted to give you the rose.”
Wrapping my arms around Justin and Robert, I gave them a big hug. “Both of you have already given me so many roses in my heart that my garden will bloom forever.”
I pushed aside the fancy bouquet I was going to carry down. “This is all the flowers I need,” I said, holding up the rose Justin gave me.
The Mistress of Trevelyan Page 35
