Wicked

by Cheryl Holt

  A candle flared to light, and she whipped around to find her stepfather seated in the chair in the corner.

  “Papa Oscar!” Her mind whirred frantically as she sorted through the ramifications of discovery.

  “Where have you been?” he repeated as he rose to his feet.

  “Why are you up?” she replied, stalling. “I know how you hate to miss your sleep.”

  “I will not ask you again.” He approached, the flickering candle enhancing his features so he looked utterly demonic.

  “I was hungry. I went downstairs to get a glass of milk.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” he bellowed.

  He raised his hand, and she only had an instant to see that he was clutching his riding crop. He slapped her with it, across the arm and shoulder—not the face—so there’d be no visible marks.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You would stand here, in my home, under my roof, and blatantly tell untruths? You would dare?”

  “I would never be untruthful. I’m a good daughter. I am!”

  “I watched you leave!”

  Damn! She’d been positive he was asleep. His snoring had rattled the rafters. What had awakened him? Why had he bothered to glance out the window?

  He hit her over and over, and briefly, she considered grabbing the whip and turning the tables on him. She’d like to give him a hard whack so he’d realize what it felt like to be struck.

  But she didn’t. For all her bluster, he thoroughly intimidated her, and she hadn’t a clue how to openly defy him. In that regard, she was very much like her poor, beleaguered mother who’d never stood up to him, either.

  He seized her by the scruff of the neck, his fat fingers squeezing tight. He was bent over her, his disgusting lips pressed to her ear.

  “You will apologize at once!” he ordered.

  “Yes, yes, I’m sorry.”

  “You will beg my forgiveness.”

  “Of course. Please forgive me.”

  He tightened his grip, pushing her down and down until her forehead was touching the floor. Her knees were already screaming in agony, her back too, and she wondered how long he’d hold her before his rage was spent. Sometimes, he could continue for hours.

  “I ask you again,” he seethed. “Where were you?”

  She’d been at the spot by the pond that she’d shown to Lucas Drake. Several young people from the village had met there for a party. One boy’s father owned the tavern in the village, and he’d stolen some ale, but only a small amount so they’d each been able to have just a few sips.

  The entire affair had been so boring that she should have stayed home. It certainly hadn’t been worth this trouble. Oscar’s temper and penchant for punishment were legendary, so she’d never hear the end of it.

  Mentally, she reviewed her choices. What should she confess? She wasn’t a tattle, so she’d never mention the party or the pond or the people who’d attended.

  He was ranting from Scripture about the sins of Eve, the wickedness of women, but she was barely listening. As he droned on and on, the most marvelous idea occurred to her. It was the answer to all her prayers and would bring about the perfect conclusion.

  “Who were you with?” he shouted.

  “James.”

  There was a thrilling, exhilarating pause, then he demanded, “Who?”

  “I was with James Talbot.”

  He shoved her away as if she was unclean, as if she had a fatal disease that might be catching. She crumpled to the rug, but didn’t attempt to rise. With the state he was in, movement would encourage another lash of his riding crop.

  “What were you doing with him?”

  She peeked up, trying her best to appear shy and maidenly.

  “We were…kissing and…other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “I really can’t say it aloud. Don’t make me.”

  She stared at the floor, a veritable model of contrition and remorse, but actually, she was hiding a grin.

  “You were with James Talbot,” he muttered.

  “Yes.”

  “Shaming yourself. Disgracing yourself. Dishonoring my good name.”

  “I’m sorry. When he asks me to go off with him, I’m afraid to refuse.”

  He gasped. “It’s happened before?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many times.”

  “Three?”

  “Harlot!” he charged. “Daughter of Eve! Spawn of the devil!”

  He grabbed Veronica’s hair and yanked her up so she was kneeling in front of him. He slapped her once, and again and again.

  “One time for each ignominy,” he explained. “One blow for each of your adventures, but trust me, there will be much more castigation before you and I are through.”

  If three firm clouts were all it took to get a proposal from James, it was a very tiny price to pay.

  “What about James?” she inquired. “What will you do? I hate to cause him any difficulty.”

  “That shall be your greatest punishment of all. You shall have the reprehensible libertine as your husband, and it will be a penalty to make you recall—for the rest of your days—that the wages of sin are very high indeed.

  “I don’t believe James wishes to marry me,” she tentatively said.

  “After this humiliation, he has no choice.”

  “What do you mean?” She pretended to be confused, but she simply wanted to be very clear as to Oscar’s intent.

  “I will speak to Stanley first thing in the morning. I will apprise him of all that’s transpired, then we will send a messenger to London to obtain a Special License. You and James will be wed at once.”

  “At once!” She tried to look shocked, but could barely conceal her glee.

  “There will be no delay. I will see to it. In my congregation, no man is permitted to salaciously fornicate. It will not stand!” he thundered. “Now say your prayers.”

  “What should I pray about?”

  “Pray for forgiveness. Pray for guidance. Pray for the strength you will need to be James Talbot’s bride, for there is no heavier burden a woman could assume than to be his wife.”

  Veronica folded her hands, bent her head, and began.

  The ordeal might last for hours, until dawn, or he might make her keep on until he left to talk to Stanley.

  For once, she didn’t mind a bit.

  * * * *

  “Where have you been?”

  “Have you become my nanny?”

  “I asked you a question. What is your answer?”

  Stanley glared at James, not surprised in the least by James’s sharp tone. James had never liked to be interrogated as to his whereabouts or any other topic. His attitude hadn’t mellowed with age.

  They were in James’s bedroom suite, and he’d just slinked in from a clandestine visit to Miss Ralston. James wanted Stanley to think their bargain terminated, but Miss Ralston was very pretty and very lonely, and James never had been able to resist a conquest.

  Stanley’s only regret was that he couldn’t watch them together awhile longer. Their carnal escapades were extremely erotic, yet all good things came to an end. Some sooner rather than later.

  “I ask you again,” Stanley said, “and I don’t have time for lies or evasions.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Stanley, it’s nearly dawn. I can’t see why we must quarrel when I’ve been up all night and I’m exhausted.”

  James went over to the sideboard and poured himself a whiskey. He glowered at Stanley—as if he could force Stanley out with a mere scowl—and Stanley simply sighed and relaxed in his chair.

  James stomped over and slouched into the chair across. He was sipping his drink, studying Stanley with what had to be an incredible amount of distaste, perhaps even hatred. Stanley supposed he deserved it.

  He’d never been kind to James, but then, Stanley firmly believed that hefty doses of discipline and disdain made a man out of a boy. Stanley’s own father had raised Stanley in simi
lar fashion, and Stanley was shrewd and tough because of it. There’d been no reason to coddle James, and Stanley never would have. And look at the man James had grown to be!

  When James was older, when Stanley was dead and buried, James would be grateful for his stern upbringing. Stanley was convinced of it.

  “I’m not here to pester you, James,” Stanley said, “and I won’t beat around the bush.”

  “Praise be. Maybe I’ll get some sleep before this night is through.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  Stanley rose and poured his own drink, then sat back down. He assessed James, pondering the future and how it would unfold. As he’d initially plotted over having James deflower Miss Ralston, he hadn’t peered down the road to the end. He hadn’t fully considered the ramifications.

  He’d simply thought to pay James for his assistance, then set him free. But he hadn’t counted on James’s affection for Miss Ralston.

  One fact was clear: James couldn’t stay at Summerfield.

  Miss Ralston had developed her own infatuation, which had to be quashed. Otherwise, she might start hoping she could wed James, but she belonged to Stanley, and James couldn’t have her.

  During the past few days, Stanley had been fretting over how to crush their flirtation, and this conclusion was for the best. He really didn’t have to do anything at all. Fate had already determined the finale. Stanley only had to guide the players on their proper paths.

  “I will ask you once, James, and you can’t dilly-dally or falsify.”

  “Yes, yes. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Were you with Veronica this evening?”

  James couldn’t completely stifle a gasp. “Veronica?”

  “Yes. Were you with her in ways you shouldn’t have been? I’m certain you’re smarter than that. Tell me the truth.”

  James scoffed, appearing disgusted at the very idea. “No, I wasn’t with Veronica. What an absurd notion.”

  “I expected that as your reply, but I had to inquire.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s accusing you of misconduct.”

  “The little trollop.” Two red slashes colored James’s cheeks.

  “My feeling exactly,” Stanley concurred. “I won’t ask you where you actually were, but I assume you were with a woman?” James hemmed and hawed, and Stanley said, “I don’t have to know her identity.”

  “Yes, I was with a woman,” James carefully admitted.

  Stanley nodded. “So we can’t use the truth as your defense. It would bring Oscar’s wrath down on an innocent party. Here is what we will do instead.”

  James raised a hand, motioning Stanley to stop. “Wait, wait. What’s happening?”

  “My brother caught Veronica sneaking into the rectory a few hours ago. She’s named you as the culprit who lured her out.”

  “She’s a liar. I never did!”

  “I was sure you hadn’t, but I’ve been informed by a well-placed servant at the vicarage that—once the sun is up—my brother will barge in and demand you marry her.”

  “Dammit! I won’t!”

  “No, I would never let you, and I guess Lucas was correct in his warning that you were in danger. We should have heeded him.”

  “Yes, we should have.”

  “If she spins an involved tale about you, it will be the very devil to refute it.” Stanley paused, realizing this moment was key. “You have to leave. Immediately.”

  “To where?”

  “To London. Right now. I’ll tell everyone—but especially my brother the vicar—that you left last night after supper and that I rode with you part of the way. You couldn’t have cavorted with her because you weren’t here.”

  James froze, seeming to hold his breath, his mind racing as he struggled to figure out how to refuse without mentioning Miss Ralston or his affair with her.

  Stanley pressed his advantage. “I have your horse saddled and a bag packed. It has to be now before the house begins to awaken. The servants are loyal, but I don’t want anyone to see you who could contradict my claim.”

  “I don’t know, Stanley,” he finally said. “I hadn’t planned to go so soon.”

  “There’s no other choice, James. You understand what Oscar is like. You can’t be eager to embroil yourself in a conflict with him.”

  “No.” James studied the floor, thinking, thinking. “I should say…goodbye to some people, though. I should explain—maybe to Lucas.”

  “I’ll speak with Lucas in the morning, and he can corroborate our account as to the time of your departure.”

  “Yes, I’m certain he would.”

  “And what about the paramour with whom you spent the evening? Will she remain silent? I trust she wouldn’t incur Oscar’s fury by announcing your tryst. She’d never come forward with a story that differs from mine, would she?”

  “No, she wouldn’t.”

  Stanley stood and approached James. Disaster was about to strike, and James needed to hurry. Stanley would never permit Oscar to harm James, but it was easiest to accomplish Stanley’s goal with James spirited away. If James wasn’t on the premises, if he didn’t return, the whole incident would die down without too much of a mess.

  With James having cancelled their deal regarding Miss Ralston, Stanley hadn’t expected to pay up on their arrangement, but to coerce James into leaving, he decided to tender his prior bribe as an added inducement.

  Besides, though James wasn’t aware that Stanley knew the truth, James had carried out his part of the bargain. Stanley only had to wait to learn if James’s seed had caught. James deserved to be remunerated for his efforts, and Stanley handed him an envelope.

  “What this?” James asked.

  “It’s a bank draft for the money I promised you earlier—when we were haggling about Miss Ralston.”

  “There’s no agreement between us. You don’t owe me for anything.”

  “It contains the other details too. About the orphanage.”

  “I see.” James stared at the envelope, running his thumb over and over the front.

  He might have passed up the money, but he wouldn’t forego the information about his parents. He couldn’t. He’d wanted it forever.

  “Let’s go, James,” Stanley urged. “I saddled the horse myself so I wouldn’t have to involve any of the stable boys. It’s behind the barn. You can use the back road.”

  James peered up at Stanley, and he looked so torn. Did he realize he was in love with Miss Ralston? Had the notion occurred to him?

  It was the most important reason why James had to leave.

  “This is so sudden,” James said. “It doesn’t seem right.”

  “Get yourself to London. Oscar’s temper will calm, and I’ll have Veronica married off somewhere else. Then you can come home.”

  “That might be awhile in the future.”

  Stanley shrugged. “It shouldn’t be that long. Just until matters have resolved. I’ll be quick about it.”

  Actually, he wouldn’t work toward a resolution. While he’d certainly deal with Oscar and rid himself of Veronica, he wouldn’t allow James to return. Miss Ralston had to wed Stanley, and he almost hated to hurt James so terribly, but some behaviors couldn’t be helped. Some endings couldn’t be avoided.

  “Let’s go!” Stanley snapped.

  He gestured impatiently to the door, but James didn’t move.

  “Time’s wasting, James,” Stanley said. “Each minute that ticks by, we’re closer to Oscar arriving. Will you remain here and be trapped in Veronica’s web? Is that the conclusion you envision for yourself.”

  “No.” James stared at the floor again. Ultimately, he said, “If anyone inquires about me, tell them why I left, would you? Make sure people know I didn’t seduce Veronica—and that I will be back very soon. Take Miss Ralston, for instance. I’ve really grown to like her. I wouldn’t want this nonsense to ruin her good opinion of my character.”

  “I will tell her. In fact, I
will shout from the rooftops that you are much too smart to involve yourself with Veronica and that she is a bald-faced liar.”

  “Thank you.”

  James couldn’t say more than that—he’d have to admit his affair—and Stanley wouldn’t listen to more. While he understood James’s attachment to Miss Ralston, it didn’t signify. It couldn’t.

  James had to go.

  “Come,” Stanley said. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “All right.”

  James thoroughly assessed the room, clearly concerned over when he’d return, which was a valid worry. After Stanley wed Miss Ralston, James would never return.

  “I’ll send the rest of your things,” Stanley told him.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Write me so I’ll know where you’re staying.”

  “I was thinking…ah…I might head to India. I have a friend from the army who asked me to join him in a business venture.”

  “A grand idea.” Stanley forced a smile, the enormity of James’s departure gradually sinking in. “I can assist with your travel arrangements, and if you have fees or commissions to pay, I’ll gladly buy them for you.”

  “I have no idea how much it will be.”

  “The amount doesn’t matter.”

  Then there was nothing else to say.

  Stanley went to the door and pulled it open, peeked out to ensure the hall was empty. They tiptoed down the rear stairs, and Stanley led him to the spot where his horse was tethered to the fence.

  Neither of them spoke, Stanley stoically watching as James checked the saddle, his pack, as he swung himself onto the animal.

  “You’ve been good to me,” James said. “I’m grateful for your many kindnesses.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “This seems so final.” James glanced around. “I wonder if I’ll ever be back.”

  “It’s your home, James. I’ll always be happy to have you.”

  They shared a lengthy visual exchange, and Stanley was disturbed by how emotional it was. He’d thought he could push James off into the night, that he could coerce James away without consequence, but evidently, their separation would be much more difficult than Stanley had imagined.

  He was an old man—without friends and only Oscar as family. He’d assumed he was beyond sentiment, but apparently, he wasn’t. Apparently, he possessed a long-buried and completely unnecessary pebble of affection for James.