Dark Angel (Entangled Edge)

by TJ Bennett

  The boy started, as if recalling himself. “Yes, miss. Please come. Me mum’s having her baby.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What, now?”

  “Yes, miss. Please come,” he repeated, obviously parroting back what he’d been told by an adult. “She’s hurting, has been for hours, and there’s no one else at home. Can’t find the midwife, neither. Mum sent me to you because she said you could help. Come right away.”

  It was still daylight and Gerard could not attend the woman. The mother must know that I was a nurse. Perhaps I had been given a chance to be useful after all.

  “You say she is at home?” He nodded yes. “Show me.”

  He looked away anxiously. “I can’t, miss. I hafta go find my papa. But I can tell you how to get there.”

  He gave me hasty directions to a house on Dungreen’s Street and then raced away.

  The boy’s anxiety communicated itself to me. There was no time to find Matthew or collect medical supplies. I would have to see what was available in the house when I arrived, and hope the father or the boy might return in time for me to send them back out for whatever else I might need.

  Just then I saw Bill across the road, closing the door of a small cottage as he left with a happy smile. I waved him over, a sense of urgency pricking me on.

  “Thank goodness you’re here. I need your help, Bill.”

  His friendly expression of greeting quickly changed to one of concern. “What is it, ma’am? What’s happened?”

  I related the situation to him and told him where I intended to go.

  He frowned. “I’ll go with you. That isn’t the nicest area of town.”

  “No, I will need you to find Matthew and tell him where I have gone.” The woman and her family might need spiritual counseling after the birth of a stillborn. “Tell him to come as soon as he is able. Then you must fetch me some supplies I will need to prepare for the birth.”

  I described the articles, hoping there was nothing I had forgotten in my haste.

  I wished I could send for Gerard. A pang settled around my heart. If I stayed with him, there might be other such occasions when I would need aid he would be unable to provide. I lifted my chin. I was not helpless. I had taken care of myself and others for many years, and would continue to do so in the future even if we did wed—although it would likely frustrate him to no end.

  Bill and I parted ways, and I hurriedly left the festival behind, forgetting all about the blackberry pie lying smashed and broken on the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dungreen’s Street featured a lackluster row of cottages on the outskirts of the village. It was still early in the afternoon, and I could hear sounds of revelry in the distance, but the celebrations had not made it this far. No one else appeared to be about.

  A shiver of unease whispered over me.

  I counted the cottages on the row and found the third one down on the left-hand side, as instructed. Its thatched roof was in sad need of replacement and the door sagged woefully. In fact, all the cottages on the lane had an air of neglect about them. I had learned many of the older homes outlying the village were abandoned after the Great Disaster. With fewer people to occupy them, the nicer homes in town had been left standing open. Some of the poorer villagers took advantage of the opportunity to live nearer the center of town, where it was easier to obtain work.

  I approached the door of the cottage. The family must be truly destitute to live in such a place. The windows had been painted over, the holes in them covered with wood, and the place had a general air of abandonment. Perhaps it would be best to wait until Matthew came after all, I thought, then admonished myself. The boy had made it sound as though his mother’s need was great. I knocked on the door and heard a muffled sound from within.

  “Hello?” I heard the sound again—it sounded as though someone had grunted in pain. “It is Mrs. Briton—the nurse.”

  Perhaps the woman was too weak to come to the door. I would have to let myself in.

  I tried the handle, and the door creaked ajar on its rusty hinges.

  Standing there, I peered inside from my vantage point just beyond the threshold. It was too dark inside to see well, but a few beams of the dying light filtered into the room from a crack in one of the boarded up windows.

  The beams illuminated a bundle of rags piled on the floor against the opposite wall. At least I thought it was rags until it moved.

  “Catherine,” a voice rasped. “Go…it isn’t safe…”

  “Mariah!” I gasped, then ran to her huddled shape lying on the dirty floor. “What are you doing here? What happened to you?”

  A footfall sounded behind me, and as a large shadow broke the shaft of sunlight, I quickly turned.

  “You!”

  Roger Howard swept his hat off with a grand gesture and bowed. “In the flesh. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, as the saying goes.” Then he closed his fist and cracked Mariah in the jaw, silencing her instantly.

  I cried out in horror at his casual violence against the woman he once claimed to love.

  “Are you mad?” I cried, throwing myself over Mariah’s still frame to protect her from another blow. Her face was bruised, her clothes torn. God knew what he had done to her.

  He couldn’t kill her, but as it had been pointed out to me more than once, the people here felt pain just as well as anyone. Rage and fear escalated my heartbeats, made me tremble with fear. But I would not let him see it.

  He turned his menacing gaze on me.

  “You—you sent that boy? It was all a lie?”

  He tilted his head and grinned horribly. “Afraid so. Knew you’d come rushing in to save the day, though, didn’t I? I know people, better than they know themselves. Know what they’ll do. And what they won’t.”

  The stench of alcohol permeated his skin. He had an air of hardened dissipation about him, the sort of careless despair men can have when they have reached the end of their rope.

  I could just make out his face in the shadows. “I demand you let us go!”

  “Oh, you still think you’re in charge here, do you? You’re in no position to give orders to me, so you’d best do as I tell you. We’re not on your protector’s estate this time.” He swept out an arm. “This may be humble, but it’s all mine.”

  The cottage was nearly empty, but years of dust and spiderwebs had accumulated on the few ancient furnishings left.

  “Sorry for the mess,” he said, his tone sardonic. “Haven’t spent much time here since I ran away when I was twelve. Me mum used to make me clean it until it shined, or she’d beat me and then toss me out. I’d get no food, either, till it was cleaned just right. Sometimes for days. Amazing how I grew to be such a hulking bastard for all that, eh?”

  He glanced around. “Didn’t even come back after the wall of water washed her stinking carcass out to sea. Would have eventually, if I’d had a wife to make it homey, but the master put a stop to that.” His eyes went flat. “But let’s not get distracted.”

  He took a step toward me.

  Do not panic, I told myself and moved beyond his reach. Matthew would be here shortly; I’d only need to keep Howard talking for a few more minutes and I would be safe. I prayed Bill had done what I asked, and Matthew was even now heading toward the row.

  “What do you want from me?”

  The hard smile spread across his face. “Any number of things, love. But first things first. Nedra—that’s Mrs. Blackpot to you—told me about your little enterprise, and I’ll be taking over the business now.”

  “She told you willingly?” I asked, incredulous.

  He laughed darkly. “Oh, there’s willing, and there’s willing. She likes to be persuaded of things. Likes to have a man handle her rough, tell her what to do. I give her the back of my hand, follow up with a lift of her skirts, and she’s ready to do whatever I ask.”

  I remembered the faint bruise on her cheek and stared at him in disgust.

  He rocked back on his he
els. “My association with her has been very profitable, as a matter of fact. She knows all sorts of things about the fine citizens of Ynys Nos, and with a few pints in her, it’s amazing what she lets slip. And if the fine citizens wish to keep their secrets, then they pay up. Handsomely. But I see that there are other ways to make a bundle, and isn’t it just dandy that you’ll be working for me now.”

  I’d had more than enough of this. “I am taking Mariah, and I am leaving. If you do not wish for the master to hang you from your thumbs from the nearest yardarm, then you had best step aside.”

  He grabbed me and shoved me against the door. “No, you don’t, love.” He loomed over me, his body pressed against my side, and reaching out, trailed a finger down my cheek. The smell of ripe sweat, spirits, and lust rolled off him. I gagged in revulsion.

  “You are a hot little thing,” he murmured, and I had to swallow the gorge rising into my throat.

  I tried not to show my abject fear. I suspected he liked seeing it on the faces of his women, and I would not grant him the satisfaction of seeing it on mine.

  Where was Matthew?

  “Why are you doing this?” I hissed. “Surely you can see the folly in accosting me. I’ve done nothing to you, and the master will have your hide for it.”

  “The master won’t know,” he growled, “because you aren’t going to tell him. Not yet, anyway. And when you do, you’ll say it was your choice, that you threw yourself at me, and you enjoyed it—or I’ll tell everyone about that black creature I saw sneaking out your window the other day. The one that any sane person would have sounded the alarm about, but you didn’t.” He clasped my chin with his rough hands, turning my face to his, his eyes narrowing. “Now why is that?”

  “Go to the devil,” I snapped.

  “After you, love. Who knows—you might even enjoy the trip.” He laughed that dark laugh again, and the hair on the nape of my neck rose.

  I stared up at him, a certainty growing in my mind. “You were responsible for the incidents at Alexander Hall—the carriage accident, the fire, the poisoned feed.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Figured it out, did you?”

  “How did you ever hope to get away with it?” I asked in disbelief.

  He laughed. “Been getting away with it, haven’t I? What the master don’t know won’t hurt me. And it’s not as though he can kill me, is it? There’s nothing he can do to me that’s any worse than what’s been done before.”

  “Why do you want to hurt him?” I could feel Mariah’s shallow breathing beneath me, indicating she was still unconscious. I prayed she might wake long enough for her to run if I managed to distract him.

  “I’ll tell you why. Because turnabout is fair play, isn’t it?” he snarled. “Interfered with the private workings of my marriage, then stole what belonged to me. He’s had what’s mine, so now I’ll have what’s his.”

  He knows.

  “Oh, yes,” he said, confirming my suspicions. “Nedra saw her that night. Saw Mariah climb into his carriage, saw the look on his face when he shut the door behind her. No one had to tell me what happened in there. And all those nights she spends alone in that house with her holier-than-thou cousin. Don’t tell me there isn’t more going on there than praying for each other’s souls.”

  His grip tightened on my face, the smell of liquor seeping from his pores. Pain radiated along my jaw as his grip grew tighter.

  “How am I supposed to compete with them?” he rasped. “You tell me that. The master, the vicar—they’ve had it easy all their lives. Wealth, power, family. Nobody ever took what was theirs.” He shook me, and I cried out against my will. “Well, I’ve plenty now, and soon I’ll be a man to be reckoned with. No one will ever take what’s mine again. And she won’t be able to ignore me so easily anymore.”

  “You’re mad if you think Mariah will have anything to do with you after this,” I gritted out.

  He sneered. “Mariah will do what I tell her once I’ve got the blunt to make her take notice. She’ll come crawling back. And you’re the perfect revenge on those bastards, seeing as how they’re under your skirts day and night. After I’m through with you, I’ll even give you a 10 percent share in our new business so when they throw you out, you won’t be destitute the way I was when she walked out on me. After all, you’re just a tool in all of this…a sweet, tasty little tool that I’m going to work very, very hard.”

  With that he shoved his hips against mine, grinding against me as he forced an alcohol-laced kiss on me. I fought him off, managing to maneuver myself until I brought up my knee sharply, straight into his groin.

  He bellowed in pain, doubling over, then quickly backhanded me across the face. Stars exploded when my head slammed into the door. I fell to the floor, a dull roaring in my ears, my own sharp cry echoing his.

  And that is when I heard it. A voice of salvation, calling to me through the door.

  “Catherine? Catherine, is that you?” Matthew yelled from the street. “Where are you?”

  “Help! I am here—”

  Howard grabbed me. “You told him where you went!” His eyes were maddened, and he drew out his whittling knife. “Call to him again and I’ll cut his balls off. Let’s see how long he’ll have to scream before the master gets round to healing him, shall we?”

  “No!” I held up a pleading hand. “I will be quiet. Don’t hurt him.”

  But it was too late. The next thing I knew Matthew was charging into the house. “Catherine.”

  A shaft of sunlight spilled over me from the open door, but he did not see Howard lurking in the gloom.

  “Watch out!” I cried, just as Howard rushed him, the knife clutched in his huge fist.

  Startled, Matthew dodged in the nick of time, but the sharp blade cut him across his left arm, splitting open his coat sleeve. In seconds, the fabric was drenched with his blood. He feinted back, fumbling for the antique rapier at his waist, arching out of the way as Howard came for him again. Howard kept him off-kilter and slicing down with his knife, severed the cord that held the sword. It dropped to the floor with a clang, and Roger advanced, backing a now-defenseless Matthew into a corner until Matthew had nowhere else to go. Matthew lunged forward, swung his right fist, and caught a sound blow on Howard’s chin.

  Howard staggered back, still clutching the knife.

  “Catherine, run!” Matthew called.

  I scrambled up and out of the door just as Howard charged Matthew again.

  Then there was a sharp, horrible cry—followed by an even more horrible silence.

  I did not turn back. I had to get help, and I only had seconds to make my escape. I picked up my skirts, disoriented, but when feet pounded behind me, I knew I had run out of time. I ran blindly, but between my skirts and the ringing in my head, Howard was on me in moments.

  With a snarl, he grabbed my hair and yanked me back. His hands were covered in blood.

  Matthew’s blood. I kicked and scratched at him, raking his face with my nails. “What did you do to him?” I screamed.

  “Shut your gob!” The bright scratches I’d made across his face stood out against his pale, sweating skin. “I did to him what I’ll do to you if you don’t shut up.” He gaze darted around, as though he feared my screams would raise the ghosts from the abandoned cottages surrounding us. “Come on. We’re leaving. No knowing who else you might have told where you were going, you stupid bitch.”

  He covered my mouth with his hand, silencing my protests, and dragged me backward, heading for the woods at the edge of the village. My heels cut into the dirt, my hands grabbing at twigs and branches for purchase as we passed, but I was no match for his greater strength.

  Several minutes later, we reached a small clearing in the middle of the forest.

  Howard tossed me down. I hit hard and rolled, the wind knocked out of me.

  Fear made my breath push out in heaving sobs. I lifted my head, trying to determine where he’d taken me. A brook babbled through the trees; a cool mist crept a
long the leaf-strewn ground. I shivered and suppressed the urge to retch as pain shot through my head and my vision swam.

  He wiped a bloody hand across his face and bent over me, madness flickering in his eyes. “Well. Here we are, then,” he said, almost pleasantly, his hands braced on his thighs. “Our own private little hideaway, clean and pretty. You’ll appreciate that I’ve gone to such trouble for you.”

  The fog drifted in around us. I scrambled up, the world tilting and spinning. Swallowing my nausea, I tried to focus. “Listen to me, Howard. You cannot get away with this. There is nowhere to run; surely you must see that. The master will—”

  He struck me and I cried out, falling to the ground. I pulled myself up, too dizzy to stand, and forced my back against the scratchy bark of a tree, drawing my knees up, trying to make myself as small a target as possible.

  He stalked after me. “You think to threaten me? Me? I won’t have it. But I’ll have you.”

  He reached down and grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. I winced from the force of his grip and the renewed pounding inside my head.

  “Howard,” I shouted, struggling against his hold. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill you, you fool! He can do it.”

  He yanked my hair again, and I whimpered in pain.

  Howard laughed, an edge of hysteria in his voice as he jammed the bloody blade into the tree trunk above my head. “Well, then, I’d better make this worth my while, eh? Might even enjoy myself this time. Might not leave me sick and empty and puking my guts out, crying for her like a child…”

  I gaped in realization. “You still love her,” I whispered. “You still love Mariah. Do not do this. For her sake, please do not do this.”

  He swore and slapped me again, so hard I began to cry.

  “Don’t you say that to me. I hate her! Walked out on me, kicked me when I was down. Thinks she’s too good for me now, doesn’t she?” He shook me like a rag doll. “Well, I know how to kick her down, too.”

  The time for reasoning with him had long passed. He’d become delusional, pawing at my skirts while the fog thickened all around us, cool and damp and deadly.