Night Shadow

by Catherine Coulter

  He wasn’t supposed to be here, she thought blankly. He was supposed to be at Castle Rosse.

  He looked very pleased with himself. “Ye’re alive and now I’ve got ye. Why are ye in bed?”

  Lily could only stare at him.

  Monk shook his head, grabbed her hand, and pulled her upright. Lily swallowed a cry of pain. Monk frowned and jerked open the bodice of her nightgown, paying no attention to the scattering buttons. He saw the bandage.

  “So Boy did make that bullet fly ’ome, jest the wrong one. I weren’t sure about that. ’Ow bad is it?”

  She could only shake her head. This time Monk pulled the gag from her mouth. “My shoulder,” Lily whispered. “Please, it hurts.”

  Monk cursed loud and long. “I don’t want to kill ye yet,” he said. “Damnation, ’is lordship won’t give me the sparklers if ye’re dead. Oh, damn and blast. If I carts ye out of ’ere, ye’ll bleed to death on me, won’t ye? Jest to spite me, I’ll wager.”

  Lily thought that would probably be the outcome, but she didn’t say that spite would have nothing to do with her probable demise. Her shoulder throbbed, making her close her eyes against the pain. She heard Monk curse again.

  “Well, I ain’t got no choice.”

  He lifted her over his shoulder, not bothering to tie her hands and ankles, for he knew she didn’t have the strength to fight him. “Ye jest ’old still and ye won’t bleed, leastways I ’opes not.” He cursed again. “It’s cold out there, wot with the snow and all. I’ll ’ave to wrap ye up.” Monk grabbed two blankets off the bed and threw them over Lily, then continued to the wide bow windows that faced the eastern lawn.

  He was on the point of climbing out when suddenly he came face-to-face with a man he’d never seen before, a man whose face was remarkably like a monkey’s and who looked at once completely taken aback and chagrined.

  The man shouted right in Monk’s face: “’Old there, you blighter! I’ve got you now! Drop the lady and throw out your popper!”

  Monk jumped back from the window. “Who the ’ell are ye?”

  “Ollie Trunk’s me name and I’m the law. I’m taking you to London to ’ang for murder. Careful now, you put the lady down real careful.”

  “I’ll see you in ’ell,” Monk shouted and smashed his fist into the man’s face. Lily heard the scream, knew her would-be savior had lost his grip and fallen to the frozen ground. She heard running footsteps, shouts, and the lower rumble of frantic speech.

  Monk stood undecided for a moment by the window. He looked outside, saw a half-dozen men milling about, saw the little monkey-faced man rise and dust himself off. “I don’t understand,” he said, more to himself than to Lily. He seemed to realize that he was still holding her over his shoulder. He carried her back to the bed and laid her back down, automatically covering her up. Pain pulsed through her.

  “Everyone was supposed to be at Castle Rosse—the earl wot owns this pile, yer ’usband, the nippers, Lord knows, everyone. That’s why I came ’ere. I ask ye, ’ow’d that Runner get ’ere so fast anyways? It don’t make no sense, no, it don’t.”

  Lily didn’t care about any sense. She wanted, quite simply, to die.

  “’Ere, now, wot’s wrong? Yer shoulder?” He leaned over and shook her. Lily moaned. “Don’t ye dare stick yer spoon in it. I need ye! Ye’re me ’ostage. Oh, ’ellfire.”

  But Lily did stick her spoon in it. She didn’t know how long she was unconscious, but it seemed a very short time. She heard pounding. It seemed to come from a great distance away. More pounding, and then Knight’s wonderful voice.

  “Open the door, Monk. Now. You hurt my wife and I’ll carve you into small pieces.”

  “Wot’s ’e doing ’ere?” Monk raised his voice, bellowing, “I’ve got yer wife! Ye keep up yer blathering and I’ll make ’er mighty uncomfortable!”

  There came the low hum of conversation, then Burke Drummond’s voice. “Listen, Monk. I’m the Earl of Ravensworth. You let the lady go and I’ll give you the jewels.”

  “Billy’s Baubles? Ye’ve got ’em?”

  “Not those particular jewels, but heirlooms in my family for hundreds of years. That or money. Whatever you wish. And you’ll leave here a free man.”

  “No, my lord. Ye can’t do that. That bloke’s a criminal, and I’ve gots to take ’im to Lunnon.” It was the monkey-faced man’s voice; Lily recognized it.

  In the corridor outside the bedchamber, Knight grabbed Ollie Trunk by his shirt collar and lifted him off the floor. “Shut your mouth, you damned idiot. The man’s a murderer all right. And he just might kill my wife.”

  Ollie shut up. “I ain’t ever been in no situation like this afore,” he said, straightening his collar. “I don’t want the lady dead, but ye can’t jest let that Monk fellow fly off hide-free.”

  “We’ve no intention of that, Ollie,” Burke said, and motioned the man to silence.

  Knight pressed against the bedchamber door. “Lily,” he called out.

  Monk looked toward the door and drew out his pistol. To Lily he said, “Ye don’t try nothin’ and we’ll get along jest fine. Answer the man, it won’t matter none.”

  “Knight? I’m fine, truly.” But her voice broke. Oh, please, God, she prayed, don’t let him do anything foolish.

  “I wants the sparklers,” Monk shouted. “I want wot’s mine and Boy’s.”

  Knight drew a deep breath. The truth, he thought. Why not the truth, at least for now? “Listen, Monk. I told you the truth. We couldn’t find the jewels. It stands to reason that they were never brought to England. It’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you, not with you holding my wife.”

  Oh, God. He’d kill her now. Lily felt light-headed. Her shoulder was ripping with pain and she wanted to writhe away from it, but she couldn’t do anything save lie there and let the pain consume her.

  Suddenly Monk was leaning over her. “Ye’re awful white about the gills, but no matter. Jest don’t die on me quite yet. Is ’e telling the truth? Ye didn’t find the jewels? Ye tell me, or I’ll find a way to kill ’is lordship, kill ’im real dead.”

  “Please, please, we couldn’t find them. It’s the truth.”

  “They wasn’t in the stables at Castle Rosse?”

  Lily shook her head, mute.

  “I guessed as much. That’s why I came ’ere and didn’t follow yer ’usband back to Castle Rosse. Oh, no, I found out ’e’d been ’ere, at Ravensworth Abbey, and ’e was not with ye, so ye still ’ad to be ’ere. Ye was the key, I knew. Yer ’usband would do anything to ’ave ye back safe. But those damned sparklers. Damn that Tris. Damn ’im for a wily cove. If only Boy ’adn’t stuck ’is sticker in ’is back. If only that watch ’adn’t come along when ’e did.” Monk cursed, railed, and looked about the large bedchamber. For what, Lily couldn’t begin to guess. So Monk had followed them here, had watched Burke, then Knight, leave.

  Everything was silent now. Very silent. She closed her eyes, wishing she had just a modicum of strength so she could overpower Monk. Do something to end the nightmare once and for all. But she couldn’t even lift her hand. She felt warm stickiness and knew the shoulder wound was seeping blood. She wondered if she was going to die. She didn’t want to die, not now, not now that she was happy.

  Where were the children? Oh, God, what had Knight done with the children? They had to be safe. They simply had to be.

  At least if she died, they had Knight. Lily felt tears sting her eyes. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to leave Knight or the children. She tasted a salty tear in her mouth.

  “Monk.”

  It was Knight’s voice.

  “Let me come in now. I must see that my wife is all right. You can keep me for your hostage, but let her go.”

  “No!”

  Lily didn’t know where she found the strength to scream that single word. She lay back, panting, waiting, praying that Monk wouldn’t let Knight into the room. “No.” This time it was just a whisper.

  “Awright,” M
onk called. “But no tricks, or yer little piece will meet ’er maker this minute.”

  “No,” Lily said again, so quietly this time, she herself barely heard it. She saw Monk unlock the door, saw the door slowly open, saw Knight stride in. God, he looked wonderful, vigorous, strong. Monk aimed his pistol at him and told him to raise his arms. Knight did. Monk ran his hands over his body, then straightened, nodding. “Ye’re clean,” he said.

  Knight looked at the man who’d been his nemesis for the past month. God, he wanted to kill the blighter. He immediately went to the bed. “Love,” he said softly and sat down beside her. “It will be all right, Lily. Just hang on, love. Just hang on, please.” He kissed her cheek. “Trust me, Lily,” he said more softly.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “You’re wonderful, Knight.” He gave her a slow smile and she saw something else, something in his golden fox’s eyes—determination, that was it. “Please take care.” He nodded, then straightened, coming slowly to his feet.

  Monk was standing like a towering giant in the middle of the room, his legs spread, the pistol in his right hand. “You’ve made our lives a misery for far too long, Monk,” Knight said. “I’ll give you the money the jewels would have brought you. I want you to leave. Now.”

  “I’ll take ’er with me.”

  “No, you won’t. She’s far too weak. She’d only slow you down. If you did take her, I’d follow you. For as long as it took, I’d track you down and I’d kill you. Surely you’d rather live and spend all your groats.”

  “Ye killed Boy. I’ll kill ’er. It’s fair.”

  “Go away, Monk. Leave us be. You’ll have all the money you could spend in two lifetimes.”

  Suddenly, without warning, there was a loud crashing noise from the window. Monk whirled about. Burke Drummond, a rope about his waist, bounded through the window into the room, rolled, then came up on his feet, a pistol at the ready. Lily heard a man shout from outside, “He’s safe! I let him down and he made it!”

  Burke ignored the voice, jerked up his pistol, and would have fired that moment, but Monk had his own pistol aimed, not at him or Knight, but at Lily. “Jest ye try it,” Monk yelled. “Jest go ahead and do it, and I’ll bury the little piece right ’ere, right now!”

  Burke spat on the floor and snarled, his voice filled with contempt, “Your mother was a ginsoaked whore who should have smothered you at birth!”

  With a ferocious bellow of rage, Monk jerked, his gun leveled now on Burke’s chest.

  Knight smoothly pulled the knife from his sleeve, poised it to its mark, then sent it straight and fast toward Monk just the instant before Monk fired.

  The blade sank into one side of Monk’s neck, the red-tipped point protruding obscenely out the other side, under Monk’s right ear. Burke hit the floor as the bullet went high and wide. Monk stared at Burke, then, turning slowly, stared at Knight. “A stiletto, ye kilt me with a stiletto, jest like me mother gave me.” He tried to say something more, but it was garbled sounds, liquid with his own blood.

  Lily saw the knife sticking through Monk’s throat. She saw him drop the pistol, saw him slowly crumple, his huge body seeming to fold in on itself. It was odd, but his body made scarce a sound when it hit the wooden floor. She saw Burke come to his feet, stand there, unmoving; saw her husband, his arm still outstretched. Slowly, she opened her mouth. Only a sob emerged.

  Knight rushed to the bed. “Lily, it’s over now, all over.”

  She stared up at him, unable to raise her hand to touch his face. “I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t do anything except lie here like some wilting, weak female and watch Monk hurt you.”

  “He didn’t hurt me. He’s dead now, Lily, dead and gone. Please, love, it’s all right, I’m all right.”

  Slowly, the room turned dark, then darker still. Lily tried to fight it off but she couldn’t. “Knight,” she whispered, then softly slid into unconsciousness.

  Three days later, midmorning in the Diamond Room, Lily was surrounded by three children, a husband, an earl, and a countess.

  Sam was proudly demonstrating his ability with his crutches. Theo was trailing after him, a close shadow, ready to catch him if he fell. Laura Beth was cuddled next to Lily on the bed, Czarina Catherine in her arms.

  “Not a bit of room for me,” Knight said. “Won’t you go away, Laura Beth? Perhaps play with your uncle Burke? He looks terribly lonely, doesn’t he?”

  The child took her thumb out of her mouth and grinned at Knight. “Papa,” she said. She nodded, apparently pleased with the sound, and stuck her thumb back into her mouth.

  “I suppose that’s an answer. Careful, Sam, you’ll fall out the window. Theo, sit down. May I have a cup of tea, please, Arielle? All this fathering is wearing me to a bone.”

  Lily smiled and touched her husband’s coat sleeve. “You’re a wonderful father.”

  “But not yet all that wonderful a husband,” Knight said, hoping that only she heard him.

  “I have an excellent memory, my lord.”

  “So do I. I hurt, Lily. Would you please speed up your recovery? It was, after all, only a bullet wound through your shoulder. Barely a scratch. Have you so little stamina?”

  “Knight, would you please take a seat and leave Lily to Laura Beth and her doll?” Arielle said. “Here’s your tea. Now behave. You’re quite as active as the children.”

  Knight meekly did as he was asked.

  “You as well, Arielle,” Burke told his wife. “Lily was just asking me about Knight’s plan.”

  “The one that didn’t work,” Arielle added.

  “Well, it was a try,” Knight said. “And really quite simple. I just sent out a good half-dozen men to canvass all innkeepers and shop owners and let drop that we’d turned up these fabulous jewels at Castle Rosse and, being lawful folk, we were dispatching them to London. Mentioned the date and the time, of course. It was a fairly decent plan, even if it didn’t work, since Monk was here rather than there.”

  “Did you truly have someone traveling to London with something?” Lily asked.

  “Yes, Burke’s valet, Joshua. He had two other men trailing him in case Monk made a move. Joshua was peeved that he missed all the excitement here.”

  Burke said, “Joshua was my batman in the army. This was his first excitement in some months and he was ready to bash some heads. He’s been doing nothing but complaining since he came back.”

  At that moment, the Ravensworths’ butler, Montague, came into the room and spoke quietly to Burke. Burke frowned for a moment, then nodded. Montague withdrew.

  “How bizarre,” Burke said. “Ollie has just arrived from London. He asks to speak to you, Knight.”

  “I did pay him, did I not?”

  “Yes,” Burke said. “Perhaps he’s back for a bonus.”

  “No, sir,” Ollie said as he came into the room, sounding much affronted. “We Bow Street Runners are an ’onorable sort, we are, not bleeding milkers.”

  “I was just jesting, Ollie. Do come in. What have you to tell his lordship?”

  Ollie looked at each of them in turn, then eyed the children with something akin to terror. He cleared his throat. “Billy’s Baubles,” he announced.

  Everyone stared at him.

  “Billy’s Baubles,” he said again. “The bloody jewels. Don’t you understand?”

  “No,” Knight said.

  “Billy, as in William,” Ollie explained in a tone of exaggerated patience. He still got no response. “You’re all a bunch of loobies. William—bloody Prince William of Orange! That’s who Billy is. ’E was betrothed to Charlotte—Princess Charlotte of England. She done told the prince to stuff it this past summer, said she didn’t want to marry ’im. ’E took the jewels back and sent ’em ’ome to Brussels, but they was stolen. All I ’ad to do was ask about it quiet-like. Lord Kittaker knew all about it. Since it didn’t ’appen ’ere in England, no one knew much about it.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Lily said. “Imagine that. No wonder they we
re so valuable.”

  “My God,” Knight said. “And I was thinking this Billy was a rich Cit or something of the sort.”

  “The Princess of England,” Lily said. “Jewels for a royal princess.”

  Arielle was shaking her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter who owns them. We still don’t have any idea where the devil they are.”

  There was no answer to that.

  Ollie earned a bonus of one hundred pounds for his information.

  The following afternoon, Mrs. Pepperall, the Ravensworth housekeeper, walked into the drawing room looking perturbed. Knight had carried Lily downstairs and had tucked her carefully onto a sofa near the fireplace.

  The children were outside with John, who had recently arrived, playing in the newly fallen snow.

  Mrs. Pepperall cleared her throat. “My lady, the strangest thing has happened.” In her hands she held Lily’s once beautiful ermine-lined cloak.

  “Yes, Mrs. Pepperall? Oh, the cloak.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We tried to clean it, but the blood—Well, one of our girls was trying to snip out the blood-covered fur from the rest of the ermine so’s you could wear it again, and the strangest thing happened. Look what she found wrapped up real tight in linen in the lining.”

  Mrs. Pepperall held up a glittering necklace, earrings, and bracelet. Diamonds, emeralds, and rubies spilled over her hand, shining wildly in the afternoon sunlight.

  “My cloak. They were in my cloak all the time, and it never occurred to me—”

  “To either of us,” Knight said. “Merciful heavens, would you look at the size of those diamonds!”

  “They’re real?” Mrs. Pepperall said, her voice a high squeak, and she promptly dropped the jewels into Knight’s hands.

  “Quite real,” Knight said, sifting the brilliant jewels through his fingers. “Thank you, Mrs. Pepperall. You’ve solved the mystery.”

  “Not at all, my lord,” said Mrs. Pepperall, beaming. “It wasn’t much at all, really.”

  “Irony,” Knight said. “I’ve had quite enough of irony.”