“Three hours is hardly enough time.” He grinned and stalked toward her. “Any other requests you wish to make?”
Vincent walked behind her. She stiffened. “That the door remain open.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “But I prefer my privacy.” He bent forward, his lips a mere fraction from her cheek.
Tess pulled away and turned toward him. Her spine was stiff as a board and her chin held high. “Lord Atwood, I understand you may believe I would continue with an intimate relationship, but that will not happen. Last night was a mistake and if you wish for my presence for anything other than secretarial duties, I am afraid I must decline.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. She was so adorable, so indignant and he couldn’t help but smile. “We already agreed that you would perform the duties I requested in exchange for my letting the students and teachers remain here.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Are you trying to blackmail me into continuing to help you?”
He groaned. Blackmail was a tactic Percer used. He was just trying to tease the delightful teacher. Her words sobered him. “I am sorry, that is not what I meant.”
Her shoulders relaxed, though only a small bit.
“If I promise to behave, will you continue to act as my secretary?” He couldn’t believe he was about to beg her, but he was willing to do just about anything to obtain her agreement.
“There are other teachers who would be just as proficient, and probably more, than I am,” Tess argued.
“I don’t want them.” He took a step forward. “I want you.”
Tess stepped away from him. “Which is why, perhaps, you should request their assistance instead of mine.”
“Very well.” Vincent sighed and turned away. “If I promise not to touch or kiss you, will you continue to act as my secretary for the duration of your stay?” When he turned to look at her, his eyes pleaded with her to say yes.
A blushed formed on her cheeks and she quickly looked away. Ah, so she wasn’t so against him kissing her. She was afraid of what would happen if he kissed her again. At least he hoped those were her thoughts.
“And we stop at ten?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Yes. But that leaves me with hours of nothing else to do.”
The right side of her mouth quirked. “Perhaps you should try sleeping, as the rest of us do.”
He had to tell her. He never bothered to explain to anyone else, but his staff. Tess had a right to know of his affliction. The one he alluded to a moment ago. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the couch.
“I can’t, not at the moment, Lord Atwood. The students are waiting for me.”
He glanced at the clock. It was well past the breakfast hour. “Very well. I will see you at seven.”
She scooted past him and was out the door before he had a chance to call her back.
* * *
The girls were already gathered around the long dining room table. Remnants of breakfast were long gone. Books lay open as girls read and wrote their papers. Tess strolled down one side of the table, and glanced at the progress each student was making.
“I wonder what this is,” Rosemary exclaimed, holding a piece of paper.
“Is there anything written on it?” Tess asked as she walked in the girl’s direction.
“No, just odd lines.” She handed it to Tess. “Is this the type of markings you mentioned yesterday? Should I put it back in the book where I found it?”
Tess looked at the document and bit her lip to keep from smiling. So, Sophia had been successful in replicating a piece of the map. She glanced down at Rosemary, who looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. Oh, she would have to keep an eye on that girl. She looked over to Sophia, who sat next to Eliza. She bit her upper lip and looked back down at her book.
“I think I will hold onto this.” She continued on and ignored the whispers behind her. Undoubtedly, Eliza and Rosemary were discussing how successfully they fooled her.
Tess glanced at the student’s papers some more, but her mind was not on what she read. In fact, at this moment, she could not remember the topic of any of the papers. Her mind was on the map. Perhaps Sophia had a plausible idea. If she gave the piece she now possessed to Percer, would he believe it was real?
Not that it mattered. Regardless of what he thought to be true, he would still either kill her or have her arrested as soon as he was in possession of the piece of paper. That is what she feared most. However, it was better she was in danger rather than Sophia.
Tess wondered if Percer knew the connection between Sophia and the Trent listed. Had he simply picked her from among the girls, or was he taunting her with the possibility of using the young woman further. The thought sent a chill up her spine. Whatever his reasoning may be, Tess knew they would need to remain diligent in protecting the girl and would mention it to Atwood when they met this evening.
This time a thrill raced through her body and she chastised herself. No, she must not think about his kisses or caress. She must maintain a professional relationship with him at all times, no matter what.
With her new resolve, she turned her attention to her students and tried to concentrate on what they had written. She failed miserably and memories of the night before invaded her brain.
* * *
Vincent rubbed his dry, scratchy eyes. This was the first time since his return home that he had not slept during the day. He decided, after Tess’ comment, perhaps he should sleep at night, as did the rest of the world. The servants did keep the house sufficiently dark during the day, with draperies closed in any room that received sunlight, so he was not pained. However, it was unfair to them to have to clean and work in muted light. If he could, he would allow the brightness into the rooms. He should not punish them because of his affliction, which is what had brought about his sleeping during the day to begin with.
The students needed the light as well. How could they get any work done by candles alone? Besides, young ladies were not meant to be stuck in a dark gloomy house. He glanced out the window. The rain had held off but the day remained overcast. He amended his thought. They should not be stuck in a house made gloomy despite the weather outside.
The restlessness ate at him. There was nothing for him to do, not while they were in his home because he could only go from his library to the stairs, and into his room. The only route that did not have curtains opened at the moment. Besides, though Tess’ students were in the dining room, several times he was interrupted by teachers and girls to retrieve a book. Not that he was doing anything when they arrived. He tried to work, but gave up after a few moments. Why torture himself? There was no point when it would only bring a headache. And with Tess as his secretary, he hoped to go without those for a very long time.
He paced and walked toward the door leading to the patio. Even had the sun been shining, it was late in the afternoon and the area was sufficiently shaded at this time of day. He couldn’t remember the last time he sat outside. Even when the sun didn’t beat down here, he remained inside. Of course, he would normally be asleep.
Vincent turned the handle and stepped outside. He paused and waited. No pain. He closed his eyes and inhaled the cool, crisp fall air. He opened his eyes once again. It was good to be outside in the day and he would make a point of spending more time on this terrace in the future. Doing what, he had no idea. But at least he no longer felt like a creature of the night.
Voices caught his attention and he glance to the south side of his estate. Servants were clearing the wood line, cutting trees and limbs, chopping logs into pieces small enough for the fireplaces. He had no idea if the house already had enough wood for the winter but it was the only job he could think of that would keep the men outside and alert.
The plan was all well and good for the daytime, but what of the night? How could he protect the students, teachers and especially Tess? He scanned the wooded area. Was Percer watching him now?
“
Sir, you are outside,” Wesley exclaimed with surprise.
Vincent smiled and turned. “Very strange, I know.”
Wesley straightened. “Actually, it is about time.”
Vincent chuckled, not affronted by his servant’s chiding tone. “Is there a reason you wished to see me?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, young David has returned.”
Wesley’s tone and demeanor changed to one of gravity. Vincent feared what he would be told. “Send him to me.”
Wesley stood back and allowed the young man to pass.
“What news do you have?” Vincent asked.
The boy twisted his hat and looked up at his employer, fear on his face. “Lord Parham is dead, sir.”
Vincent knew he should remain upright, stiff and authoritive, but found it difficult. He willed himself to remain standing when he wanted to sink down into one of the chairs. He was the employer and in charge of this household after all. “How?” he demanded. Please let it be a natural death.
“They think he took too much medicine.”
He focused on the young man. “Was he ill?”
“No, injured.”
“How so?” Vincent demanded.
David’s eyes grew round and he took a step back. Vincent immediately regretted his harsh tone. It was not David’s fault, he was just the messenger. “Tell me what you know,” Vincent continued in a calmer voice.
“Sir,” Wesley stepped forward. “Perhaps we should take this discussion inside.” His eyes scanned the surrounding wooded area.
Vincent glanced around as well then nodded his head and followed David and Wesley back into his library. “Did you see something, someone?”
“No, sir. But, one cannot be too careful and I would hate for Percer to learn of what few plans we have or what we have already determined,” Wesley explained in a hushed tone.
“Yes, you are right,” Vincent sighed and took a seat behind his desk. He focused on David. “What did you learn?”
“The housekeeper said Lord Parham had been shot with an arrow.”
“How on earth did that happen?” Wesley asked.
“Nobody knows, but most believe it was an accident. Perhaps someone who missed an archery target.”
“Was a target, or arrows, found in the area?” Vincent asked, though he already suspected what the answer might be.
“No, sir. Which is why the housekeeper doesn’t believe it was an accident either.”
“Go on.” At least someone in that household had some sense.
“The arrow got him in the shoulder and he was on the mend, but still in a lot of pain, I guess.”
“How much medicine?” Vincent stood and walked to the decanter of brandy.
“A whole bottle,” David answered in awe.
Vincent whipped around a looked at him. “Of what?”
“Laudanum. The doctor had left a full bottle to get him through his convalescence and Parham drank the entire thing.”
Vincent’s stomach turned at the thought. He knew from experience that even the slightest bit over what a doctor recommended could make a person sick. Even though he had built up a tolerance, he could not drink over one-third of a bottle without becoming ill. Parham should have been passed out before he could have finished half of it.
“Did no one think it strange that he would drink an entire bottle of laudanum? A fraction of that would have relieved his pain and put him to sleep.”
“That is what the housekeeper said. She doesn’t believe for a minute he drank it on his own.”
Neither did Vincent. “So, who helped him?”
The boy’s eyes grew big. “That is just it, sir. Nobody knows.”
“Could you not find out any other information?” Vincent demanded. “Who else was in the house? What visitors had there been? Are any employees or servants now missing?” With each booming question the boy sank further back. Vincent forced himself to quiet his tone. “Did you learn anything else?”
“Only that the door from the parlor leading outside had been left open all night. The footman insisted he locked it with all of the rest of the doors before he went to bed.”
Vincent returned to the decanter and poured himself a drink. Somehow Percer had gotten into the house and killed Parham by forcing the laudanum down his throat. Even though he had no proof, he would continue to remain diligent in his watch over Tess and the estate. He just hoped Trent was well. Not only did he not wish any harm on the man, but he now knew his daughter as well and did not want to see her suffer in anyway.
* * *
“We have looked everywhere.” Rosemary sighed and sank down onto the top step of the long, dark stairway.
“There has to be some place we have missed,” Eliza insisted and paced along the hall.
“She is not on the very top floor,” Sophia offered.
“Nor this one,” Rosemary groaned. “We have looked in every room, closet, armoire, anything big enough to hide a body.”
Eliza stopped her pacing and stared at them. “Are you sure we did not miss any room on the main floor.”
“No, I mean, yes,” Sophia answered, exacerbated. “She is not there and I wonder if she is even in this house, or alive for that matter.”
Eliza knelt down and looked her in the eye. “I know what we saw, as does Rosemary. You cannot deny that he was carrying his wife in the hall.”
Sophia sighed. “I suppose so.”
“Then, it stands to reason he has hidden her away somewhere.” Eliza stood and resumed her pacing.
Rosemary straightened and brightened. “We never looked in the cellar.”
“Why would he put her in an old, dusty, moldy cellar?” Sophia asked. “This is his wife after all.”
“How many cellars have windows?” Eliza asked pointedly.
Rosemary jumped to her feet, ready to continue the search. Eliza started down the stairs. Sophia groaned again and stood to follow.
Most carefully did she always avoid the cheerful light of the sun,
and was wont to spend the brightest days in the most retired
and gloomy apartments
Wake Not the Dead
Johann Ludwig Tieck
Chapter 20
Eliza peeked around the corner and into the kitchen, then turned back to her friends. “It is empty.”
“At this time of day?” Sophia questioned.
“Dinner isn’t for hours,” Rosemary reminded her.
Sophia strained to looked past her friends. She’d never known a kitchen to be deserted at any time of the day. “I just don’t want to be caught,” Sophia insisted.
“Are you going to be a ninny the entire time?” Eliza asked. “Maybe we should make you stay here.”
Sophia’s eyes grew wide. “No. I would rather go with you than be left alone, here.” She looked around the smaller dining room. The walls were papered in an ornate, yet dark pattern of gold and brown. The chocolate colored, velvet curtains were pulled tight against the daylight. Not that there was any brightness today. Black, iron scones were spaced along the walls at even intervals, and must have come from before the reign of Queen Elizabeth. The fireplace, on the opposite wall, was large enough to roast a boar and the floorboards below their feet were worn, and darkened, almost black in this poor lighting. Though a lovely cream, green and brown rug graced the floor beneath the table, it did not help deter from the positively gothic feel of this room.
“Sophia, come on,” Rosemary hissed.
She turned to find her friends had moved through the kitchen without her, and Sophia hastened to catch up.
Eliza pulled open the door to the cellar, took one step down and stopped. Rosemary peeked over her shoulder. “It is very dark.”
“I didn’t bring a candle,” Sophia reminded them. “We should come back when we have one.”
Eliza rolled her eyes and moved past her friends and back into the kitchen. She stood in the center of the room and looked around then retreated back into the horrid dining room. El
iza returned a moment later with an ornate candelabrum and lit the three center candles.
Rosemary squealed with delight and clapped her hands. “It is perfect.”
“Yes, perfect,” Sophia offered in a dry tone. Perhaps Miss Crawford was right. They should stop reading horrid novels because right now, she felt like she had stepped right into the middle of one. And just like the stupid heroines in those books, she followed her friends into the dark abyss when everything inside her screamed to turn and run away.
A damp chill surrounded her ankles the further they descended into the darkness. This was a very bad idea, yet they continued on, with slow, careful steps until Eliza announced they had reached the bottom. Eliza raised the candles above her so they could look further into the room. Cobwebs hung from the rafters and Sophia suspected more than a few mice had taken up residence in this space.
“Come on,” Eliza whispered and moved forward. Rosemary was practically plastered to Eliza’s back and Sophia wasn’t all that far behind her. They turned the corner and Eliza gasped. “Look at all the wine.”
Rosemary and Sophia stepped around her.
“Look how clean it is.”
Sophia had to agree. The rows of wine bottles that lined the walls did not even have a speck of dust on them. How very odd.
Eliza spied the sconces on the wall and began lighting them to brighten the room. In the center was a chaise lounge covered in dark red upholstery. A cream and cranberry satin blanket had been tossed across the bottom and a pillow rested in the carved, dark, heavy wood chair. A table had been placed between the two items of furniture. An unlit lamp sat in the center and a glass, full of red liquid, sat beside it.
Rosemary walked over and peered down. “Do you think it is blood?”
Sophia sighed, marched forward and took it from the table. She was about to sniff it to determine the vintage of wine when someone, or something scrapped along the inside of the wooden door centered on the opposite wall.
To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1) Page 18
