A Passion So Strong

by Chasity Bowlin

  “We don’t need to build one, Anne. Someone has set a fire! Get up and get dressed!” he instructed sharply as he jumped from the bed and reached for his breeches. He donned them quickly, and his boots, before racing outside. Anne was following behind him. She’d donned only her gown, with nothing beneath it, judging by the length of time it had taken her to get outside.

  “Are there buckets of sand? Water?” he asked.

  “There’s sand in the barn… and the cistern next to the kitchen.”

  “Go to the barn and get as much of the sand as you can carry… I’ll get the water from the kitchen. Hurry, Anne, before the flames reach the house.”

  She did as he said, running towards the barn. It had been a calculated choice. It would take her longer and he hoped to have the fire out before she returned. He could only think of what Athena and Minerva had said before, that all of Anne’s ancestors from the Elliott line had died by fire. He’d keep her as far from it as possible.

  Going through the house, he grabbed two buckets and filled them quickly before racing back to the front and dousing the bushes that were ablaze. It dampened the flames somewhat, but did not put them out entirely. Rather than go back for more water, Sebastian grabbed the small rug from the foyer and commenced to beating back the flame with it.

  By the time Anne returned from the barn, carrying two heavy buckets of sand, he had the flames under control. Taking the buckets from her, he dumped the contents at the base of the bushes, smothering the last of the smoldering embers.

  “Thank God,” she said. “Thank God it didn’t reach the house.”

  “Thank God,” he replied, “That it did not reach you. After everything I’ve learned today, the thought of you being anywhere near an uncontrolled fire strikes fear in my heart.”

  Anne pointed to the shards of porcelain. “This fire was not magical in origin.”

  “There are many kinds of magic.”

  Sebastian knew that voice. It was the Vicar, Thomas Savage. He had no weapons on him. Unless he chose to pick up one of their discarded buckets and bludgeon the man with it, they were at a distinct disadvantage. Turning to face him, Sebastian found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol.

  “The funny thing about you arrival here, Miss Everleigh,” the vicar said, “is that it completely negated one part of Winifred’s curse. I’ve taken over the body of every vicar who has come to serve Penwickett for the last ninety years, and I have never been able to step foot on this property until now… Because you are here. Because a woman with Elliott blood in her veins is here.”

  “What do you want?” Sebastian demanded.

  “Well,” the vicar said, “if Anne’s living presence ended the curse, then perhaps her death will reverse the process.”

  “That isn’t how it works,” Anne stated.

  The vicar shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I have nothing to lose by trying, do I?”

  Sebastian saw the intent before he saw the flash of moment. The man meant to shoot her. Diving forward, he tackled Anne to the ground. He could feel the burn as the pistol ball dug a trench through the skin and muscle of his shoulder. But Anne was safe. Before the other man could reload his weapon, Sebastian was on his feet.

  But he didn’t attack the Vicar. It was unnecessary. The shadowy figure of a woman stood before him, a woman who looked remarkably like a more petite version of Anne. The Vicar stared at her in dawning horror, his face a mask of terror. The man clutched at his arm, a gurgling cry rising from his throat as he sank to his knees in the dirt. The woman continued to stand before him and as Sebastian moved to the left to get a better look at her, he could see that her transparent fist was buried in the Vicar’s chest, squeezing his heart.

  It was over as suddenly as it had begun. The Vicar was lying on the ground, his eyes fixed and open, sightless. The ghost of Winifred Elliott had exacted her final revenge. Even as he thought it, she turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. A small smile curved her lips and then she simply faded into nothing.

  “I have truly seen everything now,” Sebastian whispered.

  “That’s the woman I saw in the mirror,” Anne whispered back. “That was Winifred Elliott.”

  “Yes. I think it was,” Sebastian agreed. “What should we do with him?”

  “We’ll take him back to his curricle, wherever it is parked and leave him there… He died of a heart seizure,” Anne said firmly. “There are no signs of foul play, nothing to link him to us.”

  “Go into the house. I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  “You can’t cart him all over Penwickett, Sebastian! We’ll leave him here for the moment and locate the curricle first.”

  It was the rumbling of wheels on the lane that put an abrupt end to what had otherwise been a sound plan. Athena and Minerva were returning from Alcott Hall. The carriage rolled slowly to a halt, the driver agog at the scene before him. Between the burned bushes and the dead Vicar, it was all shockingly Old Testament.

  Minerva poked her head out of the carriage and looked at the Vicar’s body. “Elizabeth is going to be terribly disappointed… but perhaps if she really wants to be penitent it’s for the best that you all killed him.”

  “We didn’t!” Anne protested. “Even if we had, he tried to kill us first! He died of a heart seizure… which Winifred caused.”

  “Oh, dear,” Athena said, poking her head through the other window. “You all have had a very exciting evening. Anne, dearest, are you not wearing any stays?”

  Sebastian closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Perhaps if you two could climb down from the coach, we could have a conversation about that and about what we should do with the Vicar’s remains.”

  “His curricle is parked on the road,” the driver said. “If you want to load him in the coach, m’lord, I’ll be happy to help you deliver him back from whence he came.”

  Minerva laughed. “That would be quite a journey, unless you know a shortcut into hell, sir!”

  The driver said nothing, but he had clearly grown used to Minerva’s odd witticisms.

  “Right,” Sebastian said. “The two of you out of the coach and him in.”

  After some shuffling, Minerva and Athena disembarked. Sebastian hoisted the Vicar’s body onto his shoulders, which was no mean feat, and managed to deposit inside the carriage. The driver made good on his promise and took him straight to the Vicar’s curricle. After some discussion and the inevitable fact that the Vicar’s body had already begun to stiffen, it was decided to lay him on the road as if he’d fallen from the curricle rather than attempt to set him in it.

  “You’re quite good at this,” Sebastian said to the driver.

  The driver shrugged. “It be Penwickett, my lord. Not the first body I’ve had to move. Might be the last though, thank goodness.”

  “Let’s hope that goes for both of us,” Sebastian replied. “I’ll walk back.”

  “Good night, my lord.”

  EPILOGUE

  After much discussion, Anne and Sebastian did not marry in the church at Penwickett. They returned to Ravenner Abbey and married in the small chapel there with Athena, Minerva and Ambrose in attendance. His new bride, Penelope, elected to remain at home, complaining of a megrim. In Sebastian’s opinion the woman was a megrim. A more discontented and cold blooded thing he’d never met in his life. Afterward, they’d returned to the Ravenner Abbey for a wedding breakfast.

  “I must say,” Amrbose said, approaching him with a glass of champagne in his hand, “when I sent you to Evenwold, I had a sneaking suspicion about all of this.”

  “You’re matchmaking now, too?” Sebastian asked, accepting the proffered glass.

  “As you well know, Strong, I sometimes just know things.”

  Sebastian raised his glass. “To the uncanny abilities of your entire family.”

  “To the bride and groom… may you all have every happiness together at your new home.”

  Sebastian frowned. “Our new home?”

&n
bsp; “Your new old home,” Ambrose clarified. “I’ve had papers drawn up to transfer ownership of Evenwold to you and Anne. I felt it was an appropriate wedding gift… I’ve also moved Minerva and Athena back into the Abbey. One could argue that is the true gift.”

  Sebastian laughed. “They’re not so bad. They just take a bit of getting used to.”

  “So they do. But you and Anne deserve a bit of privacy as you start your new life together. Congratulations, my friend. I wish you every happiness.”

  “And I you,” Sebastian replied.

  “Some of us are not cut out for happiness.”

  “Is it possible to annul the marriage?” Sebastian asked bluntly.

  “No,” Ambrose replied. “It is not. And I wouldn’t even if I could because I keep my word. She is not the bride I would have chosen, but she is the bride that I have taken. In other words, I have made my bed and must lie in it.”

  “Why?” Sebastian pressed.

  “Why else? Money… Father left the estates in a shambles. Without the fortune that Penelope brought with her, we would have lost everything.”

  “I am sorry,” Sebastian offered. “I wish that you could know happiness in your life, Ambrose, or peace at the very least. Heaven knows you’ve earned it.”

  Ambrose raised his own glass then. “To a peaceful existence for us all.”

  Anne walked toward them then and kissed Ambrose’s cheek. “Are you trying to get my new husband foxed?”

  Ambrose chuckled. “My darling girl, it would take more than a little champagne at a wedding breakfast for that! Remind me tell you about this time in Bombay—.”

  “Absolutely not!” Sebastian interjected. “We will never speak of Bombay again.”

  Anne glanced from one to the other, noting the wicked grin on Ambrose’s face and the faintly horrified expression on Sebastian’s. “Oh, we will most definitely speak of Bombay again… but not today. Today is for happy thoughts only!”

  Ambrose nodded again. “On that note, I will leave the two of you to enjoy your happy thoughts in private. And if you wish to sneak away, no one will say anything… I daresay you’ve lingered longer here than most newly married couples do. I’m doing my best not to think of how you may have assuaged your eagerness already.”

  As he walked away, Anne frowned. “If I were to ever indulge in the magic that Athena and Minerva insist I am capable of, I would use it to give him happiness. He deserves it.”

  Sebastian kissed her cheek. “So, he does. But right now, I’d rather see to our happiness. Come upstairs with me, Anne, and let’s see if lovemaking feels any different now that we have the good Lords’ blessing on it.”

  She smacked his arm. “That’s blasphemy.”

  “When I have you calling out to him in a few minutes, you can ask for forgiveness on my behalf,” he promised with a wicked glint in his eyes.

  Anne’s breath caught. “You may have to remind me… I tend to forget everything in those moments.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, taking her hand and tugging her toward the doorway and the stairs beyond. If any of the guests noticed their departure, no one remarked on it. But Athena and Minerva did share a smug and knowing glance before they turned their attention to Ambrose. With their sister settled, it was time to begin working on their nephew.