by Rhianna
At last, the lodge came into view. She tied her horse and knocked earnestly on the wood door. Mauvreen answered almost immediately, as if she had been expecting her.
And with just one look, Mauvreen knew that Rhianna knew the truth.
Mauvreen smiled, her wrinkles setting deeply into the curvatures of her face. “Well! I suppose you are not here to see me,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“I am here to see both of you,” Rhianna said, confirming her presumption.
“That’s more than your father would say.” Rhianna stepped forward and Mauvreen took her in her arms. “Come inside.”
As Rhianna entered, there was something different about the lodge. It felt familial, homey.
“This lodge holds so many memories,” recalled Mauvreen, as if she could look about the rooms and see the past as clearly as the present. “All the years I’ve imagined this moment, having wanted for so long to share my memories with you,” she told her, “and I still do not know where to begin.”
Rhianna agreed. “There is so much I want to know and I don’t know what to ask.”
Mauvreen raised her hand, as if she suddenly knew exactly which direction to take. “There is something I want you to see.”
Rhianna followed her upstairs, where she was led to a bedroom at the end of the hall. Mauvreen allowed her a moment to silently examine it. It was a modest room, plainly decorated, with a window to the garden in the back. She looked down at the roses and the white fence, but the gravestone itself was not within view. Rhianna returned her attention to the room and wondered who in times past had come and gone from it.
“This is where you were born,” Mauvreen explained. “It was in this bed that you spent your one and only day with your mother.”
Her eyes fell upon the bed. Rhianna made her way to it and laid her hand upon the sheets. If only she could remember. Kneeling beside the mattress, she closed her eyes and almost imagined she could.
“When you first looked up into her eyes, Guilford was exactly where you are now. ‘I have a name for her,’ she said to him. ‘She must be called Rhianna.’ I’ll never forget how she looked at you.”
The scene played out in her mind. She imagined her mother, worn out from childbirth, using all her strength just to hold her, at once knowing her intimately and bonding with her for all eternity.
“Her heart,” Mauvreen told her, “was yours and no one else’s, from the first moment she saw you, to its last beat.”
Searching her soul for what she most wanted to know, Rhianna discovered that if nothing was answered but one question, she could be at peace.
She examined the bedsheets as she spoke. “Was my mother happy, Mauvreen?”
“My child?”
“It just seems that life was not very fair to her,” she confessed. “I cannot help but wonder if, in the end, could she have been content, so secluded from society, her family, her prospects, her hopes all gone …”
Mauvreen took a seat on the bed beside Rhianna. Holding one hand in her own and patting it tenderly, Mauvreen smiled broadly, her glassy eyes distant with pleasant memories.
“By no means was she unhappy, Rhianna,” she assured her. “I can promise you. In fact, she was quite the contrary — especially those last five months of her pregnancy. Though she was so secluded from the rest of the world, I daresay those were the happiest days of Hallie’s life. She was madly in love with your father. He was all she needed in the world. And then she had you.”
“Did Lord Kingsley truly love her, as he told me?”
She nodded. “He adored her the way she adored him. You can see in the devotion he displays to this day, visiting her regularly these twenty some years later, how he loved her then, and loves her still.”
“I wish I could have seen them together,” she mused.
“You have seen the way he smiled at her,” Mauvreen told her. “It is the same way he smiles at you.”
She envisioned it, but the image was fleeting. Rhianna’s thoughts quickly reverted back to present day and she rose.
“My father is dying, Mauvreen. Lydia has poisoned him.”
“I should have known!” declared Mauvreen. “She has been a frantic woman since Pierson was threatened with prison. I did not expect that she would go to such lengths to get Guilford’s money.”
“Except Lord Kingsley has left all his unentailed property to Audra and me. If she succeeds in killing him, it will be all for naught.”
“I doubt she will stop there. You must prove she was behind the poisoning or she will surely come after you both.”
As she was speaking, Mauvreen seemed detached. Her expression was concerned, her eyes squinting and her head tilted. She appeared to focus on a distant sound.
“Do you hear that?”
Rhianna felt inclined to listen. As the room around them fell silent, both clearly heard the sound of horse hooves beating against the ground.
Mauvreen’s eyes bulged and she squeezed Rhianna’s hand tighter than before. “Can Lydia have any idea of what you have just told me?”
Rhianna was shaking her head no when she recalled her hasty exit from Catherine Kingsley’s room. Had she and Thayne locked the door behind them? Had they even closed it?
“Is it possible that someone has followed you here?” Mauvreen added.
“I was supposed to go to Ravensleigh,” Rhianna confessed, her thoughts racing. “Thayne did not think it was safe for me and Audra to remain at Kingsley Manor. If anyone were to follow me … if Thayne had any idea …”
“Thayne?” she repeated.
“Oh,” she blushed, “well, Lord Brighton, rather. He has proposed, Mauvreen. I was going to tell you …”
Both gasped at the sound of a shattered window followed by a thud. No sooner had they heard it than they were on their feet. Exchanging fearful glances, each knew someone other than Thayne Brighton was circling the lodge. The front door was unlocked and there was no time to waste.
Fire greeted them at the bottom of the stairs. An enflamed rag lay a few feet from the rock that had carried it into the lodge, flames flickering along the curtain of the window it had crashed through. Mauvreen quickly reached for a nearby broom and attempted to smother the blaze, while Rhianna locked the front door.
Another window was broken. Mauvreen pointed Rhianna to a closet that held another broom and she grabbed it on her way to the kitchen. Shattered glass lay strewn across the floor and flames engulfed an oval rug. Rhianna beat her broom wildly against them, afraid to think beyond her current task. Only one thought was inescapable: She should not have come here.
The kitchen fire was conquered when Rhianna looked up and saw what she feared most. There, through the broken window of the back door, she made eye contact with the one man she’d hoped never to see again. From atop her father’s horse, Aramis, Desmond Kingsley glared at her, his bloodshot eyes exuding malice. The intoxication of the morning had worn off, but the memory of her rejection had not vanished with it and Desmond was in no mood to forgive.
Rhianna fell to the floor as he aimed his pistol.
“Mauvreen, get down!” she cried, as a bullet whizzed over her head.
She could hear Mauvreen as she, too, dropped to the ground in the other room. More bullets sounded above them as Rhianna crawled over to her friend, pushing aside shards of broken glass along the way. As they sought shelter together behind the stairs, she paid little mind to the broken skin left in its wake or the red fluid that oozed steadily down her forearm.
So much for my change of clothes, she could not help but think.
“Desmond,” said Rhianna.
Mauvreen nodded. “Pierson is in front.”
The hopelessness of their situation was soon apparent. Flames licked the remaining, jagged glass of the front window — fire had been set to the outside of the lodge and the conflagration was climbing from the ground up. It was only a matter of time before the entire lodge was swallowed by it.
As the temperature rose, the two
women refused to allow panic to overtake them as they considered in silence their grim options. To remain inside the lodge offered no hope. Outside the lodge, bullets at a minimum awaited them.
“Mauvreen, I’m so sorry. I never thought I would be putting you in any danger by coming here.”
Mauvreen waved her hand. “None of that,” she insisted. “It is not your fault that those are evil men out there. Know that you made an old woman happy by coming to visit her today.”
Shots sounded through the air again, and though this round did not penetrate the lodge, the women felt the horror they tried so hard to suppress.
“Mauvreen,” cried Rhianna suddenly, “does Lord Kingsley keep any rifles here? After all, it is a hunting lodge …”
“Yes, but I have no idea how to use them,” she returned. “Do you?”
“We must try, or else there is no escape!”
Another shot was heard hissing through the forest, but this came not from the pistol of either Desmond or Pierson. One of the horses neighed and went galloping away from the lodge. Then another shot was heard, and then another.
“Rhianna!” a voice called.
“Oh, Mauvreen, it’s Thayne!” Her hopes picked up at once. “Yes, we’re here!” Rhianna answered.
They heard d’Artagnan’s whinny over the crackling of flames and Mauvreen tugged in vain at Rhianna to stay down, but she was determined to look around the steps, through the window.
Through the crawling blaze, Pierson could be seen, wounded and horseless, victim to one of the bullets fired only moments ago. He gripped his shoulder tightly and winced in pain. With his pistol empty, he screeched in defeat before tossing it aside and running away into the woods.
“You weak, useless coward!” Desmond shouted after him.
Unwilling to flee himself, Desmond sat atop Aramis, his pride no doubt intact, and faced Thayne defiantly.
“Brighton!” he called. “Wonderful to see you! It really has been too long.”
Thayne’s own checkered walnut and foliate engraved musket glared at him threateningly in the forest light.
“You won’t be getting away with a cuff to your jaw this time, Desmond.”
“Oh, come now,” he said, his face turning red with the rage he tried to conceal. “Still defending the governess?”
Thayne aimed his musket toward his head — a clear shot. “Go, before I shoot!”
As long as Thayne had a loaded musket there was nothing more he could do at present, but Rhianna suspected Desmond’s intentions would not easily be put aside. With his pride so deeply wounded by the woman who was due to inherit his money, Rhianna was afraid to consider how this would end.
“Would you shoot an unarmed man?” Desmond hurried. “Let us be gentlemen about this, shall we? Meet me on the Thornton Cliffs.”
“A duel? I accept!” Both grinned. “Seeing as you have no bullets, my sword and I will see you there. Now go!”
“I shall be waiting!”
With that, Desmond kicked his horse in a fury and rode off to the north.
Meanwhile, the heat in the lodge was reaching unbearable levels. Smoke covered the ceiling. A weakened beam above the doorframe began to crack. Rhianna and Mauvreen were covering their noses and mouths with fabric from their sleeves when Thayne leapt from d’Artagnan and kicked in the front door.
“Come!” he cried.
No sooner had he spoken the word than he was beside the stairs, offering his hands to them. Scrambling to their feet, Rhianna and Mauvreen accepted and he ran with them toward the door at a speed they could not attain on their own.
“Wait!” cried Rhianna, pulling her hand from Thayne’s grasp and turning back.
“No, Rhianna!”
Nearly thrusting Mauvreen out the front door, he ran after her. Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her back.
“We have to get out of here!”
“My mother’s picture!” she insisted. “I cannot leave it!”
He looked quickly about him. “Where is it?”
“The table, by the sofa!”
The familiar drawing of a young woman encased in an elegant, silver frame held extra meaning for her now. This young woman, lovely in every respect and holding a bouquet of roses was more than the mysterious Hallie, her gown of lace and ribbons more than just a pretty dress …
“Get out of here!”
Mauvreen stood with open arms on the other side of the door. “Come quickly, Rhianna!”
Flaming tapestries surrounded her; crackling sounds echoed throughout the lodge. Splinters of glass sparkled in the fabric of her skirt and her bloody arm throbbed at her side. Still, she stood frozen, her eyes on Thayne as he ran for the drawing.
“Thayne!” she called suddenly. Although her mother may be gone, she intended to keep Thayne. “Never mind it! Let us go!”
Mauvreen reentered the lodge to lock Rhianna’s arm in hers and urge her desperately out of the building. Rhianna turned to face her, unable to think clearly, unable to move. Only with a glance back, seeing Thayne close behind, she at last conceded. She ran with Mauvreen to the horse still tied to a tree some ways away from the lodge, before turning back again.
A moment after, the doorway poised to collapse above him, the young lord emerged and leapt to safety. The lodge would not stand for long and the drawing of Hallie was not to be seen, but they had escaped. She embraced Thayne as he approached.
“I’ll remember,” she said, with great strength. “I don’t need it, Thayne. I will remember and redraw it myself.”
Stroking her hair comfortingly, he caught his breath, and replied, “You don’t have to.”
Thayne pulled the image from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to her. Pressing it to her chest, she bowed her head to his shoulder.
In gratitude she would have remained there, but for the horse that trotted toward them. Thayne quickly raised his pistol toward the visitor, but relaxed his arm when Weathersby came into view. The man riding beside him was also familiar to him.
“Weathersby! Thorngate!”
Both men looked in horror at the fiery scene before them.
“Good God, Thayne,” cried the man, Thorngate, “what has happened here? Is everyone all right?”
“We are,” he replied. “Pierson took off toward town. We need men to try and track him.”
“Pierson has been captured,” Thorngate told him.
“What of Desmond?” asked Weathersby.
“I know where he is headed,” Thayne told them. “I need someone to take Miss Braden and her friend to safety.”
Weathersby volunteered.
“No,” cried Rhianna to Thayne, “you mustn’t follow him!”
He took her shoulders in his hands. “I will meet you at Ravensleigh.”
“We will come with you,” she hurried.
Mauvreen laid an understanding hand upon her arm, urging her to reason.
“No,” Rhianna cried again. “Someone must go with you,” she insisted to Thayne.
“I will go with him,” Thorngate stated, urging his horse forward.
More men approached who had followed the lead of Thorngate and Weathersby. Many had come in response to Thayne’s call for assistance — not his friends only, but friends of friends, as well as servants.
Thayne kissed Rhianna, briefly, but emotionally. “We will be together again before this night is out. I swear to you.”
Without a word further, he mounted his horse, and he and Thorngate took off into the woods.
Even as Thayne disappeared, Rhianna’s eyes lingered on the spot where she had last seen him. She was hardly aware as Weathersby was soon beside them, ready to assist Rhianna onto her horse and Mauvreen onto his own. Rhianna was grateful he did not hurry her too much, and allowed Mauvreen a moment to put her loving arms around her.
At last, with a final glance at the burning lodge, Rhianna consented to follow Weathersby and Mauvreen toward Ravensleigh.
• • •
Thayne gallope
d purposefully toward the cliffs, daylight fading into the west. The colder air that accompanied the twilight and the approaching North Sea was exhilarating. Thayne felt alert, ready. The mental image of the fiery lodge, the woman he loved within, kept his thoughts focused, determined.
Desmond waited plainly in the clearing. He sat tall on his horse, his sword drawn.
“Stay back,” Thayne instructed his friend.
“If you need me, I will not be far behind,” said Thorngate.
Thayne advanced, his cloak riding the wind that rolled over the cliffs. At their base, tumultuous waves could be heard crashing against the rocks. All at once, salt and smoke filled his senses, a mixture of the sea air and the smoldering fumes of his jacket. The latter became a focus — a steady reminder of why he was here.
Stopping halfway to tie d’Artagnan to a tree, he watched from the corner of his eye as Desmond leapt from his horse, carelessly releasing it. It appeared Thayne was not the only one who imagined that, of the two of them, only one would need a horse to return home.
“You brought a second to our unconventional duel?” mocked Desmond, as Thayne removed his cloak, stripping down to his white shirt and cravat.
“I won’t be needing him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
“Ought he not to inspect our field of honor or the equality of our weapons?” he jeered.
“I am satisfied on both counts.”
Desmond nodded. “And here I expected you to object to the time of day simply to prevent our continuing. Good form, Brighton. I thought I would find you more fearful of your own demise.”
Thayne held a firm grip on the handle of his sword as he stood before Desmond Kingsley. “You have insulted my fiancée, you have frightened her, you have injured her, you have attempted to violate and murder her. Not only, but you have conspired to kill Lord Kingsley. Today, Desmond, it will be your demise I will be reporting.”
Desmond smiled. “To the death then?”
“To the death.”
Their blades clashed, the tips rattled, and the physical fight quickly met the intensity of emotions behind it. One man’s force matched synchronously with the other, Desmond’s ferociousness and Thayne’s fervor, every collision, every clank bringing them to new heights of aggressiveness. With the sun slipping quickly away from them, their swords grinding together, the fierceness in Desmond’s eyes turning to madness.
