Eldren let out a heavy sigh. “He’s drinking.”
“No, my lord,” the footman said. “He’s sober as my Aunt Rosie and she’s a Quaker!”
“We should go,” Adelaide said. “He went to see Frances today, after all. Heaven knows what might have occurred!”
* * *
Warren paced the length of the hall careful never to step foot out of the fullness of the light. Every flicker of the glass lamps made his heart race. The dark shadows he’d seen in the small room at the sanitarium where Frances was being held had seemed to stay with him, clinging to him in ways that made his skin crawl. Everywhere he looked, he saw black hulking shapes. He’d felt their icy touch as he left that building, so much so that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to climb inside the carriage for the journey home. He’d ridden atop on the box with the coachman.
It felt as if they were closing in on him, wrapping around him and slowly choking the life out of him. Was this it for him? Had he given up drink only to be driven mad?
At first, he’d thought it was his imagination, or that perhaps seeing Frances had effected him more than he’d initially realized. The truth was that he’d never truly loved his wife, but he had loved the idea of her. He’d loved who she presented herself to be in the beginning though that had been, in fact, nothing more than a piece of elaborately crafted fiction. But he’d come to realize as he’d looked over his shoulder on the journey home, as he’d felt the weight and malice of every shadow since, that it was more than just overwrought feelings or an over active imagination.
Now, without the numbing relief of brandy, he was seeing shadows in every corner. They lurked and shifted and undulated like a living thing. Every breath brought them closer. Perhaps it was an irrational fear, but there was a part of him that believed those shadows wanted to invade him, to take him over as it seemed they had done to Frances long ago.
“Mr. Llewellyn, if you will come and sit, I can help you,” the mysterious Madame Leola offered.
“I cannot, madame,” he said firmly. “If I stop moving, they will—.” It was not something he could utter. He would find himself locked in the tower as his mother had been or perhaps given a neighboring cell to Frances. Then he would be at their mercy.
“I promise they will not harm you if you let me help,” she insisted.
“They?” He did stop then and looked at her. “You see them? Tell me what you see? Else I should assume you are simply humoring me as one would a madman!”
“The shadows in this house are more than simply a play of light and darkness,” the mystic said. “They pose a genuine threat, but I have a way of keeping them from you. If you will trust me?”
The sound of footsteps prompted Warren to turn. Eldren and Adelaide had been summoned to corral him, it seemed. “I’m not insane. I am not imagining things, nor am I hallucinating. And I am not drunk!”
It was his sister-in-law who stepped forward then. She closed the distance between them and took his hand in hers. It was a kind touch, one of comfort and somehow it eased him. “No, you are not. We have all seen things here that defy explanation,” she said with a compassion that humbled him.
“It isn’t only that. I feel—Adelaide, it feels as if they are hunting me, as if I am to be taken over by them at any moment!” It sounded mad to his own ears.
“Let Madame Leola help you, Warren. I promise that she will keep you safe from these things if you let her!” Adelaide said. “I swear it.”
Warren looked at her. “It’s easier just to drink it all away.”
“Not this time. That’ll only make you more vulnerable. We must all keep our wits about us now,” Eldren said, approaching his brother. “Have a little faith, brother. It seems that is a request being made of us both at the moment.”
Warren frowned, catching on to the fact that a great deal was intentionally being left unsaid. “What are you about, Eldren?”
“I cannot say. I can only tell you that we will do everything possible for all of us to be free of this.”
His brother’s resolute expression swayed Warren. There were few people he trusted, but no one more than Eldren. Had Eldren not saved him from their brother, after all? Had he not strode onto the moor and faced the thing they all feared in orders to prevent Alden from hurting anyone else? “Then let this mystic do what she will to save what is left of my sanity,” he relented.
Madame Leola looked to one of the maids standing nearby, “Get the salt from the kitchens.”
“How much salt, ma’am?” The maid asked with a frown.
“All of it,” Adelaide answered. “Bring it all.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
With Warren settled in his chamber, lights blazing and a circle of salt surrounding his bed, Tromley had elected to remain in the room with him. The trusted family retainer had suggested that it would be better for everyone if he were to watch over Warren through the night. For her part, Adelaide was in agreement.
As they were preparing to leave to seek their own chamber, Eldren spoke to the butler, “In light of recent events, Lord Mortimer and Madame Leola have elected to delay their nuptials until their return to London. But as arrangements were already made for the servants to attend, Father Thomas has agreed to hold a special service for you all at the church Christmas Eve morning in honor of the holiday. I’d like all the servants to attend.”
“All, my lord? There will be no one to tend to you here,” the butler protested.
“We can fend for ourselves for a short time.” In a softer tone, “It’s imperative, Tromley, that everyone is in attendance. Do you understand? Make the arrangements, but do it discreetly. No one must think they are being forced to leave!”
“Are they, my lord?” Tromley asked.
“It’s for the best,” Eldren said. “There will be food, drink and musicians at the Assembly Rooms for everyone. That should be all the inducement they require.”
“I’ll see to it, my lord.”
Adelaide watched the exchange with gratitude. They would proceed as planned.
“We’ll be placing Christmas greenery throughout the house tomorrow, as well,” Adelaide interjected. “Please make sure that duties are assigned accordingly so that some of the maids will be free to assist with that project. Dyllis and two others who can be discreet if necessary.”
“Yes, my lady,” Tromley replied. “You will have all the assistance you require with anything you wish to do.”
It was clear that the butler understood they were speaking of far more than holiday decorations. “Thank you, Tromley. Thank you for everything you do,” Adelaide offered with heartfelt gratitude.
As they left the chamber, Adelaide glanced back at Warren. He was lying on the bed but he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide and his body tense. She feared for him, she feared that what was to occur in the next day and half would damage him beyond repair.
In the corridor, when the door closed softly behind them, Eldren took her hand. “He will be fine. I think that if he can manage to sleep tonight, he will have a better outlook tomorrow and things will improve.”
Adelaide sighed. “I certainly hope so. I’m afraid for him. For all of us.”
“Tomorrow is soon enough to worry,” he said, looking at her with an intensity that she had come to recognize. “For tonight, let us go and make ourselves forget all of it. Tonight is for us.”
A thrill raced through her. Anticipation sparked her pulse to race and her body to heat in response. “You’re not angry with me anymore?”
“I’m never angry with you. Only with our situation. But for now, there are many things I wish to do with you and none of them involve arguing,” he said.
Adelaide didn’t hesitate. She turned and walked to their chamber. As she reached the door, she turned and looked back at him over her shoulder. “I think perhaps you should demonstrate precisely what you mean by that.”
Opening the chamber door, she stepped inside and waited. Only seconds later, he followed, closing th
e door behind them and closeting them away from everything and everyone else. She felt his hands upon her, coasting over her shoulders and down her arms, pulling her back against him. He leaned forward, his lips pressing against the tender skin of her neck in a way that robbed her of breath. Adelaide tilted her head to the side, giving him freer access. The scrape of his teeth over her flesh, the rush of pleasure at that passionate gesture that while not painful was far from gentle, had her eyes fluttering closed as a soft moan escaped her lips.
She felt his hands move from her arms, the whisper of a touch as they moved around to the row of buttons at the back of her dress. One by one, those buttons were freed, until the dress sagged. With a gentle push, he sent the fabric sliding downward until it pooled at her feet. Her corset was next. He loosened the laces and the rush of air that came in the wake of that left her as light headed as his kisses.
Piece by piece, he stripped her clothes from her, until she stood before him wearing only her stockings and garters. His hands roamed over her freely then, touching her everywhere, stoking a fire in her blood as heat coiled in her belly. She started to turn in his arms, to face him, but he stopped her. His hands gripped her hips and he guided her, turning her slightly until they were facing the large mirror of her dressing table. He stood behind her fully clothed, his hands moving proprietarily over her and she could do nothing but stare. A part of her felt as if she should be embarrassed, but another part of her was simply overwhelmed with the erotic image on display before her.
“If there is one thing I wish,” he said, his breath hot against her neck, “It is that you could see yourself as I do. So tonight, I mean to worship you here and have you observe the perfection I see in you.”
She couldn’t form a protest. Her mouth opened but no sound escaped her as she watched him cup her breasts in his hands, the tips of his fingers teasing her nipples to hard, aching peaks. The breath shuddered from her lungs and had he not been so close to her that his body supported her weight, she would have simply sank to the floor. Even as her desire spiked and a need unlike anything she’d ever experienced blossomed within her, one of his hands dipped lower, his fingertips trailing lightly over her ribs and the softness of her stomach. He slipped it between her thighs and touched her intimately, stroking the sensitive bud shielded there.
Her gaze trapped by the vision of their reflection, it traveled upward until she met his gaze in the mirror. It was so intimate, so erotic. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. She was helpless to do anything but feel.
* * *
Eldren watched her intently—every shudder and sigh, every tremor that wracked her beautiful body, the fullness of her breasts and the lush, pink buds of her nipples, and the dark curls that shielded her sex. While he craved the release he could find within her welcoming heat, there was a pleasure in and of itself simply in touching her, in evoking such a heated and intense response from her. Stroking the soft folds, teasing her to fevered arousal, he savored the opportunity to touch her.
Every touch, every movement was intended to inflame her further and it succeeded. Her lips parted on a broken sigh. She clutched at his arms, not to pull him away, but to hod him to her as her muscles tensed with pleasure. As he felt the spasms of her release, he continued stroking her flesh, drawing that pleasure out as she sobbed from the intensity of it. Only when she collapsed against him did he halt. Even then, it was only to scoop her into his arms and carry her back to the bed. Depositing her there, he shed his own clothes and joined her. She welcomed him instantly, parting her thighs and drawing him to her.
Entering her, her exquisite softness closing around his hardness, Eldren uttered a harsh curse as he struggled to find some sense of control. Then she moved against him, arching her hips and locking her legs about his waist, drawing him deeper. “Christ, Adelaide! This will be over before we’ve begun!”
“I don’t care… Do not hold yourself back from me. You wanted my passion and I gave it to you. Now give me yours,” she urged.
He was helpless to resist, not when the thing she asked for was the thing he most desired.
It became a frenzied thing, a rush of heat and need as he thrust into her. Neither was it gentle. He took her forcefully and she met him stroke for stroke, her body rising to meet his. A part of him knew that he should withdraw, that he should have used one of the condoms they had purchased, but those thoughts could not overpower raw need. He needed to lose himself inside her, he needed the release of spilling himself within her, he needed to make her his in the most primal way that any man could claim a woman.
He felt the familiar tightening, all the telltale signs of his impending release. And he felt the silken flesh of her thighs as they gripped his hips. Bringing one hand to her hip, his fingers dug into that soft flesh as he pressed deep and felt the dam break inside him.
Eldren shuddered against her, his body jerking and trembling with the force of his release as she clung to him. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the room, and for that moment, it felt as if they were the only people in the world. The darkness that threatened them, that hovered over them like a black storm cloud, could be forgotten for the moment. It was a moment of peace and contentment in the midst of terror and turmoil and they’d savor it together.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eldren stood on the platform at the train station with Warren by his side. His brother was jumpy, nervous, and not fully recovered from whatever had occurred the night before. It had been Adelaide’s suggestion that he include Warren in his morning errand. His brother would have to be told of their plan at some point.
“What are we doing here?” Warren asked.
“We are meeting the foreman from the mine. He is delivering garlands and wreaths to decorate the house with,” Eldren answered as he checked his watch. It was after ten and the train was late.
Warren rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with the decision. “We have never decorated for Christmas. Why now? In the midst of all that is happening, it seems rather frivolous and pointless.”
“It is a tradition that Americans, particularly my wife, hold very dear. She wants greenery, greenery she will have.” The remainder of the explanation would wait until they were safely away from the village. There was a crate of dynamite waiting for them and when Warren helped him conceal the explosives in the Christmas decor, then he would explain everything.
The whistle sounded in the distance, announcing the approaching locomotive.
“What’s really going on, Eldren? Are there attendants from the asylum on board ready to snatch me up and lock me in a cell next to my madwoman of a wife? Or perhaps next to my madwoman of a mother?”
Eldren sighed. “No one is going to take you away or lock you up. As for mother, she is mad. Cysgod Lys and the darkness inside it destroyed her. And as for Frances… she isn’t mad. She’s evil. Avaricious, power hungry, greedy and a born liar, but she isn’t mad.”
The train began to slow as it approached the platform, but it was still far enough out they could hear easily enough. “Did you know what she was when I told you I meant to marry her?”
“I thought her false, but I didn’t know—no one could have known what she truly is. I think at times she does not know herself.” Eldren looked up, saw how near the train was, heard the screaming of brakes and the chugging of wheels. “We’re going to destroy the house.”
Warren looked at him askance. “You can’t mean that.”
“I can. I do. Adelaide and Madame Leola think it is the only way.”
Warren shook his head. “Do you?”
“I don’t know,” Eldren answered honestly. “But I’m willing to risk it if there’s even a minute chance of ending this torment. And we’re going to do it tomorrow.”
“Is that what this sudden desire to decorate our house of horror for Christmas is all about?”
Eldren shrugged. “What better way to hide explosives?”The train was drawing closer, the noise subsiding as the powerful engines wound down. “We
’ll discuss it more later. When we get to a place where we can do so safely.”
After a small burst of activity the station settled. Machynlleth was hardly a bustling metropolis after all. A cart was unloaded from one of the cargo cars and the foreman of the mines came forward with a young boy whom Eldren knew to be his son. They both pushed hand carts with crates of woven garlands and wreaths heaped on them.
“My lord, you didn’t have to come meet us. I’d have brung it up to the house,” the foreman offered.
Eldren shook his head. “You’re better off never stepping foot on the cursed land nor exposing your boy to it.”
The foreman said nothing, but his expression firmed. Everyone knew about Cysgod Lys, of course. It was whispered about and terrible stories of it were told to naughty children that they might behave.
“We’ll take it from here,” Warren said. “It’s good to get a bit of exercise. We’ll load these on the cart.”
“There’s two more cases still on the train, my lord. Including the other items you asked for. We’ll fetch them for you.”
“Thank you, Thompson,” Eldren said, as the foreman and his son walked away to fetch the remaining boxes.
Warren was already loading the contents of one handcart onto the small wagon they’d brought with them. In all, it was a quick task. Thompson and the boy returned with the remaining crates. Everything was loaded onto the wagon and covered with a tarp. Eldren paid the man, giving him a small pouch of coins with instructions on how to divvy it up amongst the families of the miners who had assisted in completing the arrangements.
Afterward, they climbed atop the simple bench seat of the cart and headed back toward the source of all their misery. Arrangements would have been made by Madame Leola and Adelaide on their morning walk. They had prepared a place for them to work, concealed in the trees and ringed with the salt crystals that Madame Leola put such store in.
The Victorian Gothic Collection: Volumes 1-3 Page 33
