“Do not lose hope, Lord Montkeith. The book that Lady Montkeith found… it’s the key. It will tell us all we need to know.”
“Assuming we can find someone to translate it,” he said.
“We will be successful, Lord Montkeith. I’ve seen it. And what I learned today… Igrida was responsible for the slaughter of the village. Not Alwen. She bewitched him and made him do it. Then she sacrificed every daughter she bore him because she believed that her daughter’s would siphon her power from her and she would not share it! Everything you have been taught about your family history has been a lie… a lie engineered by her.”
“Why? Why hide such a thing?” Eldren asked.
“Because that is the secret… Lady Montkeith is descended from Igrida’s line. Not Alwen’s. She shares the sorceress’ blood and that is why she will be the one to end this… We just need to determine how to bring that about.”
One question burned in Eldren’s mind. “How did you discover this?”
“I was told… by the spirits who inhabit the moor. It was because they told me this that Frances attacked me,” she explained.
“The spirits of the moor,” he said on a heavy sigh. “I’ve always known that things at Cysgod Lys were not as they should be. I had half convinced myself that all the strange occurrences were a product of inherited madness rather than anything truly supernatural. To be completely honest, Madame Leola, I would be more comfortable with the notion of some sort of blood linked insanity than all of this.”
She smiled sadly. “I do understand, Lord Montkeith. I do. I was not always so accepting of my talents. When I was a child, the things I saw and heard terrified me. But I’ve made my peace with that, and you will as well… And since the madness that plagues your family is a result of Igrida’s wickedness and not some infirmity of the mind that you cannot escape, it changes things very dramatically for you and Lady Montkeith. Does it not?”
Eldren looked up at her then. “What do you know about my relationship with Adelaide?”
“Your wife has said nothing, Lord Montkeith, but I do not get to pick and choose what knowledge comes to me and what does not. There is a sadness and a distance between you that centers on the notion of children. I’ve seen it in her response to Frances’ current condition. It pains her greatly… but it need not. You have nothing to fear. Not in that regard.”
He laughed then. “Only in every other.”
“So it would seem,” she agreed. “Go to your wife, Lord Montkeith. I am well and shall be fine. Lord Mortimer will assist me if I require anything.”
Eldren rose. “Thank you, Madame Leola. And thank heavens your injuries were not more serious. I am glad you will make a full recovery.”
* * *
From his chair in the corner, John Tremaine listened to the exchange between Leola and Montkeith. He continued to keep his eyes closed and feign sleep even as Lord Montkeith vacated the room. But he could feel Leola’s gaze upon him.
“You can stop pretending,” she said. “I know you’re awake.”
Opening his eyes, he looked at her levelly. “I wasn’t entirely certain you’d wish for me to remain. Or is that what this is? Are you tossing me out on my arse, Leola Travers?”
“Travers? How long have you known my name?”
He couldn’t halt the smirk that tugged at his lips. “For as long as I’ve known you. Do you really think I would not have looked into your background?”
“So you know that I’m the bastard daughter of a Seven Dials prostitute who read tea leaves and palms to make ends meet?”
He sighed and leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “I know that your mother lived a wretched existence and that she did so in order to spare you the same. I know that she taught you her skills and taught you how to mimic the manners of higher society ladies so that you might take your talents and parlay them into a more secure and more dignified future. And you’ve done that. You can be whomever you choose. Madame Leola or just Leola Travers. It’s up to you.”
“Then why did you throw that name in my face like a bloody curse?” She snapped.
“Because I need you to understand that it doesn’t matter to me. It has never mattered to me. Because I love you. No matter what name you call yourself or from whence you hail. Because I’ve been a sentimental fool clinging to grief and guilt rather than taking a chance on happiness with a woman whom I do not deserve.”
“You love me?”
John nodded. “Yes. I love you. And it took the threat of losing you to make me realize just how much. I’m tired of living in the past, Leola. It’s time to focus on a future… and I want it to be a future with you.”
“It will never work, John. You know that I am not part of your world. I’m accepted now because I know my place. This can only end in disaster.”
“Then let it end in disaster… so long as it begins,” he said. “We will see this through here at Cysgod Lys, Leola, and then we are going to embark on a life together. Come what may.”
She stared at him for a moment. “Come what may? I think this house has possessed you!”
“This house has not. But you have… I’ve come to my senses. I’ll say it again, Leola. I love you. And when you are sufficiently recovered, I mean to show you just how much,” he vowed.
“I’m recovered enough for a kiss… that’s surely a way to begin,” she replied.
He rose from his chair and crossed the short distance to the bed where she rested. Easing himself down beside her, he bracketed her slender form with his arms and leaned in, pausing with his lips scant inches from her. “This is the point of no return.”
“So it is,” she said. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
John closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. He hadn’t touched a woman in a carnal way since his wife had died. The power of it, the rush of sensation and heat, of longing, rocked him to his core. He’d spent years traveling with Leola. They’d seen the world together but he’d been too busy thinking of all he’d lost to ever pay attention to what he’d gained.
Mindful of her injuries, the kiss was controlled. Slow, seductive, tender—he savored every second of it. When it ended, he pressed his forehead to hers, and lingered there, enjoying the sensation of closeness to another person. It had been too long.
“Thank you, Leola.”
“For a kiss?”
He chuckled softly. “No, for opening my eyes. For giving me something in life to look forward to again.”
“Go to bed, John. I’ll be fine here till tomorrow morning,” she urged. “You need sleep. We all do.”
He moved back to his chair and settled into it. “I’m fine here. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Eldren moved down the hall toward his chamber. As he turned the corner, he caught sight of the vibrant silk of Adelaide’s dressing gown. Wondering what she was about and why she might be up, he quickened his steps. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight once more just as she was vanishing down another winding corridor. Not for the first time, he cursed the many twists and turns that comprised the rabbit warren that was his home.
Hurrying after her, it seemed that she was always just ahead of him, out of reach. He couldn’t say precisely when he became aware that something was wrong. It might have been the chill in the air. It might have been the foul stench that assailed him as he climbed the stairs toward the tower that had been his mother’s final place of respite within the walls of their home. But as he neared the door to the chamber that had been hers, he felt a deep and intense sense of foreboding.
She stood in the center of the room, her back to him. Dark hair cascaded in waves over the richly colored silk that draped her form. Before she even turned to him, he knew. He felt it deep into his bones.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“I am your wife, of course,” the figure replied. The singsong, taunting tone of the voice was entirely wrong. If there had been a
ny doubt that it wasn’t Adelaide, that had allayed it.
“No. You are not. I do not know who or what you are, but you are not my wife.”
It whirled then, displaying a face that bore a shocking similarity to Adelaide’s. But it lacked warmth. The eyes were entirely cold and devoid of any softness. The lips pulled back in a sneer. “I am whatever you wish me to be.”
“Then I wish you to be gone,” he replied.
The maniacal and twisted laughter that followed his request was that of a mad woman. “That is the one thing you will never have. I am part of this house and it is part of me. Every brick and stone. Every bit of wood and mortar… I am in it. Do you not know that, Eldren? Do you not feel it when you walk down these darkened corridors and your steps quicken because you feel watched, because you feel my breath on your neck and my fingers reaching out for you?”
For lack of any other idea of what to do, Eldren resorted to the religious fervor that his mother had indulged in when he was a child. Before things has been truly terrible, she’d gone to church any time there was a service and had often sought solace in the church even when it was devoid of others. From that, he’d learned a thing or two. “The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul—.”
“Silence!!!!!” I will not be stayed by your weak recitations of the words of a God you do not even believe in!” she hissed.
The glamour, if it was such a thing, that had made her appear as Adelaide was slipping. The face shifted and moved in an unnatural way, revealing a hint of the gruesome visage beneath.
Eldren continued, “He leadeth me in righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” He stopped, his words trailing into silence as the figure simply vanished. One minute it stood before him, wavering between two images. The next it was gone.
But the odor remained. The foul stench was one he recognized. Death. Stepping deeper into the room, ignoring the small voice inside his mind that told him to run and the pounding of his heart that told him the same, Eldren looked about him. He had not entered that room since the night his mother had murdered Mrs. Alberson. Taking stock, he noted that nothing seemed to be out of place. And yet his gaze was drawn again and again to the heavy trunk at the foot of the bed. Ornately carved and so ancient that the varnish on it had blackened with time, he felt a deep sense of foreboding. Nonetheless, he forced himself to move near it. With each step, the odor grew stronger and more overwhelming.
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he covered his mouth and nose as he raised the heavy lid. It offered little to no protection from the cloying stench as he stared down into the grotesque face of the missing footman. His lips were drawn back as if his mouth were opened in a perpetual silent scream and his cloudy eyes stared upward, vacant and unseeing.
Eldren replaced the lid and quickly left the room, gagging and wrenching as he did so. The stench would linger in his mind forever. Of that he was certain.
When he reached the chamber he’d taken to sharing with Adelaide, he opened the door as quietly as possible. Immediately, Dyllis rose from the cot she’d been resting on, still fully dressed.
“I’ll be returning to my own room now, my lord,” she offered.
“Actually, Dyllis, I need you to rouse Tromley and have him fetch a couple of footmen to assist him… I’ve found Charles,” Eldren said softly.
The maid’s lips parted in a soft ‘o’. “Found him? Do you mean… oh, heavens, my lord! Is he dead?”
“Very much so.” Recalling the amount of blood that had stained the once white shirt that covered the footman’s body, Eldren added, “And by foul means. We’ll need to send someone for the magistrate, as well.”
With wide eyes and a stricken expression, the maid nodded, bobbed a quick curtsy and rushed from the room. From the bed, Adelaide asked sleepily, “What is it? What’s happened?”
He debated whether to tell her about the incident that had led him to the tower. In the end, he decided against it. So much had occurred already and he didn’t want to frighten her further. Or perhaps worse, cause her to dig her heels in and put herself in even more jeopardy.
“I was just walking the halls and… well, there was an odor. I’ve found Charles. He’s dead. He’s likely been dead for some time now. At least since Warren was injured,” he offered.
She looked at him skeptically. “Where did you find him?”
“In the tower,” he answered.
“The room you avoid at all costs? Eldren, I know you’re hiding something from me. I can tell.”
The truth was better. “I am keeping some aspects of what occurred tonight to myself. But the simple truth, Adelaide, is that I find myself at a loss for words as to how to even convey them. I am beyond tired and too shaken to attempt at present.”
She sighed, clearly unhappy with his choice but also accepting for the moment. “Come to bed. We’ll discuss it more tomorrow… Away from the house. We both need to get away for a bit, I think.”
He smiled. “That I could not agree with more… I cannot remember being so tired.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sleep, as much as he’d craved it, had not provided the rest he desired. Eldren’s dreams had been haunted by the nightmarish visions of Igrida hiding behind the visage of his wife. Up earlier than usual, even for him, he missed the release of stress that he’d gotten from his pugilistic endeavors in the small room in the cellars. Any sleepless nights in the past had been combatted in just such a way. He’d have worked himself into exhaustion and then fallen into bed and a deep, dreamless sleep.
Donning his dressing gown, he headed down the hall to Warren’s chamber. Light filtered beneath the door, indicating that his brother was having a sleepless night, as well. Knocking softly on the door, he waited until Warren called out for him to enter. Inside, he found his brother sitting up in bed, an open book on his lap and a steaming cup of tea in his hand.
“Just tea?” Eldren asked.
“Yes. Just tea,” Warren answered. “Would you like some? The pot’s still warm.”
“Who brought you tea in the middle of the night?”
Warren closed the book. “Tromley checked on me before he went to bed and brought it up… I heard about the footman. The magistrate will arrive tomorrow morning. He refused to come out in the middle of the night. His exact words, per Tromley, ‘he won’t be any deader come daylight’.”
Eldren crossed to the small table before the fire where the tea tray had been left. He poured himself a cup and added a liberal dose of sugar and cream. He preferred coffee, but it would do for the moment. “I’m not surprised at his response. I’ve never met a more lazy man.”
“Did she do it?” Warren asked. “I know that Frances is a terrible person. Despite have been briefly blinded by her beauty, it didn’t take long to recognize that she is as greedy, grasping and cold as they come. But that’s a far cry from murderer.”
“I think that she did… and what’s more, she’s responsible for an attack that very nearly ended the life of Madame Leola. Also, for what it’s worth, and with much thought, I’ve reached the conclusion that her claims about you and about the conception of the child she carries, are a lie. I believe that poor murdered footman was the true father.”
Warren leaned back against the headboard and his gaze focused on the painted interior of the canopied bed. “I do not know. I still have no memory of that night. So many nights are a blur for me. I’ve drank my life away… Climbed into a bottle of brandy and soothed my many sorrows there while allowing my wife to bully and torment everyone around us. In the end, it’s much worse than her simply being a termagant. She is evil in ways I had blinded myself to with the help of liquor.”
“You’re not alone. I have willfully ignored her for a decade now, dismissing her as simply spoiled, difficult and
unhappy. I think we’ve grown so numb to the face of the evil, living here, that we fail to see it now even when it is right in front of us.”
“And now?” Warren demanded.
“Now, I’ve had my eyes opened to the fact that there is far more going on here than I’ve ever imagined. We’re in the midst of something that is beyond the scope of anything you and I could possible envision… and yet I do not doubt the truth of Madame Leola’s claims now, any more than I doubt Adelaide’s instincts for what is occurring here. Had it not been for her intuition, for lack of better description, we might never have found Madame Leola lying injured and near death upon the moor. She knew, Warren, precisely where to go… There is no logical way to explain that. And when you eliminate the natural and logical, that leaves the supernatural.”
Warren nodded carefully. “These abilities that Adelaide is displaying…. were latent until she came here. Has she always possessed them and Cysgod Lys awakened them in some way? If so, can those abilities be trusted?”
“You think the dark forces at work here could be manipulating her?”
“It’s possible.” Warren paused thoughtfully and then continued, “It’s been manipulating all of us for years. Why not?”
“It’s something to consider,” Eldren conceded. “Now, I promised to take Adelaide away from the house today, at least for a time. An outing will be good for both of us. And I need to check in with Father Thomas about the book we discovered to see if his friend has been able to translate it.”
“And I shall wait here… recuperating like an invalid. The magistrate will have questions for you.”
“Then he may come find me. If he’d wanted them answered quickly, he should have come when called,” Eldren said smartly.
Warren laughed at that. “You’ve never sounded more like an earl!”
“I shall see you this afternoon, brother. Are you prepared for what will become of Frances?”
“There will be an inquest.”
The Victorian Gothic Collection: Volumes 1-3 Page 26
