No sooner had that dismal thought crossed her mind than she heard the key in the lock. Making a concerted effort to smooth her hair and look somewhat presentable, Frances waited. Warren would fix everything. He might despise her, but he was weak and manageable, at least.
The door opened and the attendant stepped inside, Warren right behind him.
“Leave us,” Warren said.
He looked pale, and there was still a nasty bruise upon his forehead. That he’d come at all, given his own state of health, gave Frances some hope that he’d do what he could to improve her situation.
“I don’t know if that’s wise, sir. She is a murderer, after all,” the attendant said.
“She’s done worse,” Warren replied and held up a shiny coin between his thumb and forefinger. “And I’ll call out if I need assistance.”
“Aye, sir,” the attendant said, suddenly quite cooperative. He took the coin and fled the tiny brick room without a backward glance, the door closing and locking behind him.
Warren turned to her then, his gaze cold and his jaw surprisingly firm. “What is it you would have of me, Frances?”
There was no need in deviating from what typically worked, Frances decided. Throwing herself to her knees, she wrapped her arms about his legs and wept. Great, wrenching sobs escaped her and, perhaps for the first time in her life, they were not entirely disingenuous.
“Oh, Warren! Thank you for coming for me! You must help me! Please. Please! I cannot bear it,” she pleaded.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, Frances. You’ve done things that are beyond my powers to fix,” he replied coolly. “Get up off the floor. It’s cold and you must think of your child.”
“Warren, I can’t have a child in a place such as this!” Frances implored. “There must be something you can do! And if not you, Eldren! I know he has no affection for me, but surely, under such circumstances—.”
“You seduced one of his servants and then murdered the boy,” Warren snapped. “Are those the circumstances you mean? You lied to him, and to everyone else, claiming that I had raped you and fathered a child on you when it was that poor young footman’s all along! It’s unnecessary to even address all the ways you have tormented both my brother and his new bride! No, Frances. For once, I’m afraid you have made your bed and you will have no choice but to lie in it.”
It wasn’t working. His heart had hardened against her completely. Not only that, but he seemed to have somehow developed some iron will that had always escaped him previously. “How can you be so cold to me? Yes, I was unfaithful, but I didn’t murder Charles! It was self defense! He would have killed me in a jealous rage just as he’d tried to murder you!”
Warren laughed, but it was a cold sound, more derisive than amused. “Frances, you have never carried your sewing basket anywhere. I’m not even sure why you have the thing as I’ve never seen you use it. I’m more surprised that the shears inside it were not so dull from rust and age that they had been rendered useless!”
“What on earth do you mean by that?” She said, struggling to get up from the floor. She moved away from him, fearful that in her fury she might do something regrettable and make her situation worse.
“Frances, for you to have those scissors with you anywhere in the house besides your chamber, can only mean that you had taken them on your person with intent…. Intent that they would be used for a wicked purpose.”
“You truly will not help me, will you?” She asked.
“You are beyond my help,” he replied simply. “I think perhaps you always were.”
Frances considered her options. There was only one. “I’ll kill it.”
“What?”
“The child in my belly… I will kill it,” she threatened. Then, without warning, she hurled herself onto the floor, quickly turning her face away so that it would not be too damaged. The pain was jarring, her teeth rattling from it. There was a sharp pain in her abdomen, but then it simply stopped. A coldness began to grow in the room, the temperature dropping so quickly and so shockingly, that she could see her breath.
“What have you done, Frances?” Warren asked.
She heard fear in his voice then. They both had reason to be terrified. Forcing herself to get up, she was on her knees screeching at him, “I warned you! I told you what I would do if you did not get me out of here! Now we will both pay the price!”
The small bit of light that filtered through the accursed window vanished into nothingness. The sky outside was black as pitch and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.
“It was clear and bright only moments ago,” Warren said. “What sort of devil’s bargain have you made, Frances, that the darkness of Cysgod Lys followed you here?”
“I offered the child in exchange for power,” Frances admitted. “And my offer was accepted.”
* * *
Warren stared at her in horror. Following shortly on the heels of their grandiose wedding, he’d seen the writing on the wall. Frances was not who he had thought her to be. There was nothing kind or lovely about her. Her pretty face had hidden a viperous heart and a grasping nature. But what she’d just disclosed to him was beyond anything he could imagine. That she would barter her unborn child was abhorrent to him.
“Do not look at me like that!” She shouted.
“Like what?” He asked.
“As if I were some grotesque monster! You don’t know what it’s like, Warren! You’ve never felt that kind of power, you’ve never been sensitive to it!”
But he had. He’d felt it more times than he could count and he’d run from it, hidden from it and dove head first into a bottle when necessary in order to escape it. The difference between them was greed. Frances craved—always—what she could not have and that included power.
“If you harm the child, Frances,” he warned, “There will be no aid from our quarter. I’m not certain the devil himself could spare you then!”
She smirked at him. “Think carefully before you make such proclamations, husband! If this child is allowed to be born, then the evil that inhabits the shadows of Cysgod Lys will be made flesh and all the darkness contained within the walls of your crumbling home will spill out into the world! No one will be safe then!”
He wanted to believe it was simply another of her lies or machinations. But as she gloated in front of him, he knew that it was true. She wasn’t mad, but she was maniacal and he could see it in her clearly. “You will burn in hell for what you have done here.”
“And will you not burn with me? Is it not the purpose of a husband to be the spiritual leader of his house? Had you not been a drunkard more focused on your bottle of brandy than what was happening around you, would you not have seen what was occurring? I may have done it, Warren, but you are not without blame!” The words were clipped, bitten off angrily as she all but barked at him with rage.
More truths, though even harder to take, he thought. Taking a step back, he tapped on the heavy door with one knuckle. “I’m ready to leave this place!” He called out.
A moment later, the sound of grating metal was followed by the appearance of the same attendant in the open doorway. “Right here, sir. Happy to be of service.”
Warren started to walk out, but as an afterthought, he retrieved several coins from his pocket and passed them to the guard. “Make her comfortable here. Her own clothes, clean water to wash, and decent food. If you do that, I’ll see to it that you are well compensated.”
“Of course, sir! Of course. Happy to do so,” the man said. “They call me Tom Willard, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Willard. It is much appreciated,” Warren said, and left the building without a backward glance. He couldn’t look back. He couldn’t let himself think of Frances because if he did, he’d dive straight into a bottle of brandy and never come up again.
There was another reason not to look back. He could feel the darkness on him. It hovered on his back like a weight, it’s icy breath cold on his neck and the whisper of it o
n his skin like a crawling thing. Perhaps Frances wasn’t the only mad person.
CHAPTER FOUR
Adelaide walked the long corridor toward her chambers. Eldren was in the library with Lord Mortimer. Madame Leola was resting. Her friend was recovering from Frances’ vicious attack, but she still tired easily. A sense of disquiet had been hovering over her since that morning. Try as she might, Adelaide could not quite understand why. Despite the appearance of Igrida as that awful creature the night before, oozing and grotesque, things had been strangely quiet of late. Why? What was Igrida planning?
A door swung open at the end of the hall and a giggling maid burst forth, followed by a footman. Adelaide stopped in her tracks and waited. As the maid turned, her face fell and she quickly bobbed a curtsy. She was newer to the house, Adelaide thought, and had only been there for a few weeks.
“I’m terribly sorry, m’lady. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” the maid offered.
“What were you doing in that room?” The question was directed to the footman.
He blushed, “My lady… uh… I… my lady—.”
“I needed to clean under a piece of furniture, my lady. There was something black all over the floor and I couldn’t move it by myself. He helped,” the maid explained and then elbowed the footman so hard that he grunted.
Doubtful, Adelaide demanded, “Show me.” While she had no wish to act as a tyrant over the servants, for their own sake, some things could not be allowed. The maid was painfully young and if the footman was dallying with her without honorable intentions, it would not be tolerated.
The maid bobbed another curtsy and hurried back to the chamber she’d just vacated. “It was Mrs. Llewellyn’s room, my lady. There was something black all under the dressing table yon.”
Adelaide entered the room and immediately wished she had not. She could feel Frances’ presence. Was it possible to be haunted by the living? The need, the craven things Frances had done in that space, the wickedness of her very nature seemed to have infiltrated every stone and fiber. It was cloying and suffocating and she wanted nothing more than to turn and flee.
“Just there, my lady,” the maid said and pointed to the spot on the floor.
Forcing herself to follow the gesture, Adelaide looked at the floor. It was wet, the wood appearing darker in that spot than any others.
“I tried every thing I know to clean it, but I can’t get that stain out, my lady. I meant to ask Mr. Tromley if he knew of anything that might work,” the girl said nervously.
Adelaide didn’t answer. She couldn’t. With her eyes glued to that dark spot on the floor, she watched as the same thick black substance that had covered the creature the night before began to ooze up from between the floorboards. It came from the very grain of the wood, as if Cysgod Lys itself were giving birth to evil.
“Do you see it?” Adelaide whispered.
The maid stared at the floor. “The stain, my lady? Or is there something else?”
They couldn’t see it. Only she could. Or would Eldren and Madame Leola be able to see that as well? Striving for a neutral one, Adelaide said,“Yes, the stain. That’s all. I’m certain it’s fine. And in the future, if you require the assistance of a footman to help you with something like this, have another maid present as well. Propriety must be maintained.”
The maid, chastened, bobbed another curtsy. “Yes, m’lady. I’m terribly sorry.”
Adelaide spared a quelling look at the footman, “And you know better. You’ve been here for how long?”
“Four years, my lady,” the footman replied.
“If it happens again, I’ll be forced to report the incident to my husband and to Tromley.”
“Bitch.”
The word was an insidious hiss. It came from the footman’s mouth just as the same black muck spilled from his lips.
Adelaide drew back, appalled by what he’d said, but more appalled that Igrida’s voice had emerged from him. She glanced to the maid who stood beside her. The girl was smiling, black oozing from between her parted lips and her eyes gleaming with an evil light.
“Go tell your husband,” the maid sneered, Igrida’s rasp rattling from her. “Tell him!”
“Get away from me,” Adelaide said, stumbling back. She tried to make for the door but the footman was there, blocking her path. “Get away!”
“You’re weak. A wretched, pathetic thing… do you think you can destroy me? Even that book you’ve guarded so jealously will not tell you how! I am eternal! Even when I take the flesh born of that whore who even now rots in the asylum, no power on earth will ever stop me!” The maid’s skin began to blacken and shrivel, drawing taut over her bones. It was like the horrible mummies Adelaide had seen in the museums.
Adelaide drew in a deep breath and screamed. She screamed with all the force and volume she could muster. It had been a dreadful error to wander the house alone, even in the bright light of day. Her only hope was to draw someone she trusted to her aid, either Eldren or Leola. Even Lord Mortimer. But in that moment, alone and feeling far too vulnerable, she knew she had overplayed her hand.
* * *
Eldren had been climbing the stairs in search of his wife when he heard the scream. He broke into a run, climbing the stairs as quickly as he could. He reached the top and waited. Adelaide shouted again and he couldn’t tell if she was crying out from fear or pain. His blood pounded in his veins, his entire body tensed and ready to fight whatever it was that threatened her. Still, he followed the sound.
When he finally reacher her, he found her on her knees in Frances’ chamber. A footman and a maid stood there, both of them seemingly perplexed by her behavior. The footman said nothing, just stared helplessly at his mistress who appeared to have lost her mind. The maid however was crying, her lower lip trembling terribly and great, glistening tears rolling down her cheeks.
“My lord, I don’t know what happened,” the maid said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “i only meant to show her ladyship the stain on the floor and then she began screaming! I don’t know what to do for her.”
“Leave us,” he said. “I’ll tend to her.”
The maid and the footman rushed out and Eldren squatted down on his haunches in front of his hysterical wife. She had covered her face with her hands and refused to look at him. “Adelaide, they’re gone.”
“I’m afraid to look,” she said. “I’m afraid she will make me see something else horrible.”
Eldren grasped her wrists, tugging her hands down and forced her to look at him. “She is not here. Not now, at any rate.”
Adelaide shook her head, tears clinging to her lashes.”She’s always here. You know that as well as I do. I was complacent and overly confident. I underestimated her.”
“Perhaps we have all been underestimating her. We cannot take it for granted that we know all of her tricks. Let us leave this place. I fear we are suffering from Frances’ wicked influence in here as well as Igrida's.”
Reluctantly, she placed one hand in his. “Let’s go to our chambers. And let’s have this room boarded up so that no one enters it again! It will forever be tainted by Frances’ wickedness, I think.”
It wasn’t something they would need to worry about for long, but in the interim he would have it locked and sealed. “I’ll see to it. Come along. Let’s get away from here.”
“I’m sorry, Eldren,” she said, as they stepped into the corridor. “This was a deplorably weak moment. It was just—.”
“What is it?” He asked. “What did you see?”
Adelaide cocked her head to one side. “More than she meant for me to, I think. But we cannot discuss it here.”
“We cannot go down to the beach tonight. It’ll be dark soon and the tide is in. It’s too dangerous.”
“Then we will go to the village and seek shelter in the church. Will Father Thomas mind if we descend upon him?”
“Hardly. I think Barton has finished his translations now, at any rate. The man is ecstatic at having be
en given the opportunity,” Eldren answered. “Should we wake Madame Leola?”
“Yes. I’ll need her insight. Oh, dear… how do you think Father Thomas will respond to her presence?”
Eldren smiled a bit, thinking of his old friend’s shocked expression. “I daresay he will welcome her. He will not know what to make of her, but he will welcome her.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The carriage rolled along the lane between ancient buildings, their upper flowers cantilevered over the lower ones in the old style. They’d spoken loudly of needing to alter the previous wedding arrangements as they’d left Cysgod Lys and would be dining in town with the good Father to do so. With the four of them packed inside, it was rather tight, but as Adelaide was seated next to her husband, their thighs brushing as the carriage swayed, she found she did not mind it at all. It wasn’t always about passion. There was something comforting in his touch, his nearness. Being close to him made her feel anchored and safe. That sort of feeling was a rare commodity given their current predicament.
“It’s rather nice to get out,” Lord Mortimer mused. “And I must say, the village is rather charming.”
“So it is,” Eldren agreed. “Familiarity has prompted me to take it for granted.”
“Be mindful you do not ever do so with your wife,” Lord Mortimer warned with a hearty laugh, clearly amused by his own wit.
The Victorian Gothic Collection: Volumes 1-3 Page 31
