The Victorian Gothic Collection: Volumes 1-3

by Bowlin, Chasity

  “You drive me wild,” he murmured against her ear before kissing the spot just below it, where her neck and shoulder met, that made her moan with need.

  Every touch was incendiary. When she bit the lobe of his ear, when her nails raked along his back and when she leaned against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, he ached for her. It was not the tender loving that he so often showed her. Nor was it the slow rise of passion, the teasing and taunting until she begged him to grant her release. That moment, it was heated and fierce. He lifted the hem of her nightrail, pressed her back onto the settee that had likely never seen such undignified activity, and he pushed himself eagerly into the welcoming heat of her. She cried out, his name passing her parted lips on that sweet sound.

  Swift, fierce, full of fire and fueled by the fear he’d felt for her, and if he were honest with himself, the fear he sometimes felt of her, it was a wild rush to completion for them both. Somehow, at the last moment, he managed to pull back, to withdraw and spill himself across the silken flesh of her thigh. It was a near thing, a risk he should have known better than to take. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. In the end, they were left panting, clinging to one another as sweat cooled on their skin and only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the room.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It had been a long night for Adelaide, one beset by sleeplessness. Even after the passionate encounter she’d shared with her husband in the morning room, she’d been unable to put the terrifying vision of Igrida from her mind. There was little doubt for her that the dark, dripping figure who had loomed over her had been the ancient witch, hovering on the cusp of attaining a fleshly form once more. The truth was that Adelaide struggled with understanding the motives of the creature. Her power was so great, and while such a power was not something she herself would ever aspire to, it seemed to her an odd thing that once attained, it would be willingly sacrificed. There must be some way that Igrida believed she could have both, Adelaide thought, otherwise she would never do so.

  As she strolled down the path toward the beach, Madame Leola walking quietly beside her, she continued to puzzle on that.

  “You’re thinking so loudly even those in the village can hear you,” Madame Leola jested drolly.

  Adelaide laughed softly. “I can’t help it, I’m afraid. Does it not leave you with questions, Leola? Why? What does she hope to gain from this?”

  Leola shrugged. “If we knew that, we could likely have stopped this long before now. I had no inkling last night that she was roaming the house, playing her nasty tricks. It’s been sometime since any spirit, or whatever it is that she may be, has been able to hide from me. But if she’s concealing herself from us, even at times, it means she fears us.”

  It was time for Adelaide to confess the truth of her dream. They had reached the beach, and the same salt that they sprinkled in circles to protect them within the house surrounded them, filling even the air itself around them. How strange that the water she had feared was the very thing that provided them such protection now. “I think she did, indeed, do so out of fear. I also think, perhaps, that I know why.”

  The mystic looked at her expectantly. “Do not keep me in suspense, my dear!”

  Adelaide blurted it out quickly, “My mother came to me last night, Leola… in a dream. She told me how I am connected to this place… and how I am connected to Igrida. I know some will say it was only my own current situation that prompted dreams of my mother, that my mind was simply trying to provide comfort to me in such a troubled time, but it was more than that. So much more.”

  The other woman stopped, her steps faltering. After a moment of blinking owlishly at her, Leola moved toward a large rock and placed her shawl over it before sitting down. “Tell me everything. You mustn’t leave out a single detail.”

  Adelaide moved toward that rock and sat down next to her friend. “There were rumors in New York, far more viciously whispered while my mother lived, about where we had come from. My grandmother was rumored to have been a gypsy… and if this dream was accurate, that is the truth. And the Rom tribe she was descended from originated from right here… a survivor of the massacre that Igrida instigated by Alwen’s hand.”

  “She told you all of that?”

  Adelaide sighed. “She told me about the Rom… and that Romani blood connected me to this land. The rest is summation on my part. And she told me of a place that I could find in my dreams, a room that had been hers in our house in New York, where Igrida cannot reach me. She said it was my safe place, my haven, and that I should seek it here when I needed to feel safe from Igrida’s attack.”

  “A protected astral refuge… how utterly amazing,” Madame Leola gushed. “You see, my own abilities have been passed down to me by my own Gypsy ancestors. And when I was a small girl, before I had learned to control my extra senses, I was taught of just such a thing myself. I haven’t attempted to reach that plane in years because I haven’t needed to. Why on earth did your mother come to you with this now?”

  “I believe that she has tried to reach me before… but my own abilities were too limited by my ignorance. My mother hid any gifts she might have, from me and likely from my father, as well. I think anything that he saw in her that could not be easily explained away was simply labeled an eccentricity. I think—no. I know that he was infatuated with my mother, but I do not think he truly loved her and I think she wanted his love desperately. She tried to make herself, and by extension me, into perfect examples of society ladies. We both failed miserably,” Adelaide confessed.

  “It is never a failure to be who you truly are. It is only a failure if you lose sight of that. Do you think that your mother repressed her abilities and yours to the point that it has taken her this long to be able to reach you?” Leola queried gently.

  “I think it is as likely an explanation as any. And I think, also, that she fears Igrida. She cannot protect me from her, there, in that house. My mother may not have died at Cysgod Lys, but if Igrida could hold her there—I hesitate to think what might occur. But she did confirm that our suspicion of how to destroy her is the only way.”

  Leola nodded. “And what are the arrangements there?”

  Adelaide answered carefully, pitching her voice so that it was nothing more than a whisper. Igrida might not be able to follow them to the beach, but that didn’t mean Frances was her only living servant. “The wives of the miners are making wreathes, garlands and other greenery for the house. Prior to bringing them home, Eldren will hide the charges in them. Leola, there is something else,” Adelaide said.

  “What is it my dear?”

  Adelaide thought of the passage she’d read in the book Eldren had given her when she first arrived that detailed the family history of the Llewellyn’s. “Eldren once told me that this evil that plagued his family tormented the eldest son… always the heir to the title of Earl of Montkeith. And it tormented his brother, Alden, until he became a cruel man, half mad with it. He committed suicide on the moor.”

  “Ah. And he is trapped there?”

  Adelaide hadn’t even considered that. She’d been more consumed with what she’d discovered and hadn’t spared a thought for Eldren’s brother. “He must be… but in this book, I found something else, Leola. I haven’t shared this with anyone yet. Not even Eldren. In truth, I’m not even sure where to begin.”

  “Tell me, my friend,” Leola urged. “Tell me and we will discover the way together.”

  “It was a letter to Eldren’s father from a servant girl here at the estate. She spoke of the son she bore him, but based on the date of that letter, that son would be the eldest by a matter of days. Unless perhaps there was some other trickery afoot.”

  Leola leaned forward and removed her half boots and stockings before she began the arduous process of tucking her heavy skirts up to allow her to walk barefoot on the sand. “Walk with me,” the mystic urged. “We both think better when we are on our feet and there is less risk of us being overheard if we
are closer to the water.”

  Adelaide removed her own shoes. She didn’t have the fuss of her own skirts since she’d worn the bicycling costume she’d purchased in Paris. Poor Tromley had looked to be on the verge of apoplexy when he saw her ankles. “You are unaware because of all the events that transpired before you came… But Eldren’s mother, Sylvia, had denied him repeatedly. She would not acknowledge him as her son. And now this letter, I wonder perhaps if he was not her son at all. And I suppose, I don’t know whether or not I should tell him. He’s had so much pain already.”

  Leola linked her arm through Adelaide’s. “We’ve discussed the danger of taking any items from the house when we do what it is that we must do. She has invaded every nook and cranny, every stone, every crevice… and every slip of paper that exists within. If she has even a hint that her link to this mortal world is about to be destroyed, that attachment she has—that bond to those things—could well destroy our efforts. I think you must tell him, Adelaide, and you must let him decide what he wishes to do with that information. But you cannot take that letter with you and we are running out of time for you to share such things with him.”

  Adelaide considered that all very carefully. “I don’t want to hurt him more, but if he should ever discover that I concealed this from him… He is so very stoic in the face of such things, and yet I know, that every time she denied him it cut him so deeply. He loved her. Even if she failed him abominably.”

  “Not everyone has your strength, my dear. She endured greatly in this house… and her mind, at the end, was not her own.” Leola paused. “And there is another possibility… what if the woman who gave birth to him is still alive, still wishing for her lost son? If she was but a housemaid, she would have had to simply go along with whatever his father suggested. Perhaps it was not her wish to give him up at all.”

  “You’re right, of course. I know that. And he does, as well. Perhaps that news will actually give him comfort? There might be a way to find her if she still lives. He could have some semblance of a family again perhaps,” Adelaide mused, touched by Leola’s sympathy for Sylvia. “But then perhaps she does not wish to be found. I do not know the circumstances of her relationship with his father. And the letter that had been written between them was perfunctory at best. Had there been any tenderness between them, it was long gone before that letter was ever written.”

  “You must tell him and let him decide. And you must tell me where you got this delightful costume. I have not seen one that is its equal.” The last was added in a louder tone, one intended to carry.

  It was a diversion and one that Adelaide recognized easily enough. Glancing up, she saw Eldren walking down the beach toward her. His expression was grim.

  “What’s happened?” She called out.

  “Warren has been summoned to the asylum in Chester to deal with Frances,” Eldren said. “She’s claiming all manner of wicked things about the family and about the house.”

  “To what end?”

  Eldren offered a simple shrug that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the snug fit of his coat. “Who can say why Frances does anything? I’m sure she imagines some gain in it for herself. Or perhaps it was simply a ploy to bring Warren running to her aid so that she can attempt once more to seduce him to her side and make him utterly miserable.”

  Leola nodded. “I’m going back to the house to check on John. It was a very late night for him. You should enjoy a walk together while the weather is fine… And Lord Montkeith, in light of all that has occurred, we’ve decided that the wedding should be postponed until we return to London. It makes more sense and will seem less suspicious that way. Rather than having all of your servants attend our wedding, they will attend a church service in the village and partake of the food that would have been our wedding feast.”

  Adelaide was stunned. “Are you certain? I thought you wanted to be wed as soon as possible!”

  Madame Leola smiled. “Quite certain. I advise you to trust your instincts, my friend, and I must heed my own advice and trust my own.”

  * * *

  Eldren watched the psychic beat a hasty retreat toward the house and spared a glance at his wife. “Do you want to explain what that is all about?”

  “What?”

  “Her sudden decision to cancel the wedding that had been the linchpin of our plan? The very distraction we had created in order to carry out this scheme!”

  “We must trust her judgement, Eldren. I am disappointed for them, though. They were so eager and have waited for so very long!”

  He shook his head. “Trust her judgement. Instincts. Feelings. Prophetic dreams. Adelaide, I will not pretend to know what the two of you do here or how it pertains to all of the inexplicable things that occur within the walls of Cysgod Lys. But I do know that this is the one place where the two of you feel safe to discuss your abilities… what you can and cannot do and what Madame Leola can and cannot teach you. If she ended this morning sojourn prematurely, there must have been a reason for it.”

  She looked away, her gaze settling over the crashing surf and beyond to the horizon where blue sky and blue water converged. “I’m uncertain of how to even begin.”

  Eldren held out his hand to her. “Walk with me… and begin at the beginning.”

  With her hand in his, they set off down the beach, moving further from the house. “I think when your mother denied you, Eldren, that it was not simply the ravings of a mad woman. I think that while you are your father’s son, you were never hers.”

  “Adelaide, Alden and I were twins. You are mistaken,” Eldren said with a frown.

  “You had a brother, Eldren. But what if bringing you here, forcing Sylvia to raise you as her own, what if that was your father’s attempt to circumvent the grip that Igrida has on your family? I found a letter Eldren, where a servant girl who had worked here and had a relationship with your father, wrote to him about taking her child and raising that child as a legitimate son. Given the date of that letter, she could only have meant you or your brother.”

  His blood was rushing in his ears, his heart pounding. It would explain so much. It was both unbearably painful and the most exquisite sense of relief. “Where is this letter now?”

  “It’s in the book you gave me on the Llewellyn family history… It was tucked behind the end papers. Whoever put it there was not trying to hide it forever, I think,” Adelaide said softly, “but neither did they mean for it to be readily available to anyone who might peruse that volume. Will you try to contact her?”

  “I will speak with Tromley. He’s been here since before I was born, after all. I’m certain he could tell me more about her before we make any decisions. I’ve no wish to invite more problems into our life right now,” Eldren replied honestly. He couldn’t think, couldn’t fathom what to do honestly. “What were you and Madame Leola so intently discussing this morning?”

  “Just that we’re on the right path…. Our plan to destroy this house, and hopefully to destroy Igrida along with it, must continue. It’s the only way,” Adelaide said. Her hand moved from his arm, sliding down until their fingers intertwined.

  They walked peacefully along the beach for some time, enjoying the unseasonably mild temperature and the sunshine. More than anything else, he simply enjoyed being in her presence, feeling her body pressed against his side, her small hand in his. It was a moment that allowed him to forget all the strange and otherworldly things that plagued them. It was a moment where he was simply a man enjoying a stroll with his wife. But it was a moment that could not last, because they had plans to make and schemes to hatch.

  “Christmas Eve is two days hence,” he remained her. “The garland will be brought to the mine office tomorrow. We will meet here and the charges will be wired into each one of them before we bring them to the house tomorrow evening. From that point, Adelaide, the danger really begins. It isn’t simply that we’ll be sleeping in a house filled with explosives… if this creature has even the slightest suspicion
of what we’re about—.”

  “She will not. The servants do not know and they will not. And there is nothing at all suspicious about allowing them to attend mass on Christmas Eve… Igrida will not find it odd that they are leaving the house on such a day. Eldren, it is our only chance, and we will take it. We must.”

  He had no qualms about destroying Cysgod Lys. It might have been his family seat but the more he’d thought of it, the more willing he’d been to see the place reduced to rubble. Nothing good came from it. It brought only misery and ruin to everyone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Frances paced her cell. They could call it an asylum or a sanitarium, but she’d never stayed in such a horrible place in her life. The gaol would likely be better. The room was dank and dirty, the only window a mere slit in the brick wall. Too high to emit any light or air, it offered her a sliver of sky, just enough to highlight her current misery. But that wasn’t the true source of her current discomfort. Igrida.

  Frances had tried to flirt with one of the guards, or as they styled themselves, attendants. If the door was locked with her on one side and the key on the other, that made them guards whatever they might choose to call themselves! The man had been completely disinterested in her. It was as if her beauty had not phased him at all. It was a situation she had never encountered in her life. Frances was used to men gushing about her charms, flattering her and vying for her attention. For him to simply look right through her as if she didn’t even exist was panic inducing.

  Her stockinged feet made no sound as she paced. They’d taken her shoes from her for reasons she could not begin to comprehend. Her gown, a hideous black thing she’d filched from Adelaide, had been taken as well. In its place they’d given her a simple shift that was barely better than rags. She had no comb for her hair, no pins. In very short order they’d managed to make her look as if she belonged there. If there was one thing Frances understood, it was the importance of appearances. It would have to be rectified or any hope of being able to have some semblance of sway or control in that place would fade into nothingness.