“I saw her!” Ainsley yelled against the noise of the rain. “She needed help. She was hit by the carriage or something.” He turned from them and ran farther into the darkness, farther back along the road. “Hey! Hey!” he called into the storm. “We can help you!”
Jonas and Margaret caught up to him just as he was contemplating entering the woods that flanked the road.
“There’s no one here!” Jonas yelled. He tried to grab hold of Ainsley but he shook him off and stepped toward the trees.
“Peter, that’s enough!” Margaret stepped in front of him, her face lighted by the dim glow of the lantern.
Ainsley looked back to the carriage and saw how far away from it he had run. The girl had not been half so far back and still there was no sign of her. No footprints in the mud or evidence of anyone else but them walking the road. He ran his hands through his hair as he thought over all possible scenarios but nothing made any sense.
“You are not well.”
Ainsley exhaled as he felt Margaret’s hands touch him. Her face had gone from stern to compassionate in a single heartbeat. Her touch brought him to his knees, collapsing under the weight of his overburdened heart.
He had taken his sanity for granted for so long and now, with all these sightings and sounds, he knew what was happening to him. He knew that there was only a shred of his former self that remained.
“I killed him,” he said suddenly. He closed his eyes, the weight of the world easing slightly.
“Peter, stop.” Jonas caught hold of him.
“What did he say?” Margaret came in front of him.
“I killed him, Margaret.” The tears streamed down Ainsley’s face, mixing with the rain that drowned out the world beyond, cocooning them in their misery.
“Who?”
“The man who killed those children. I killed him and I shouldn’t feel sorry for it. He would have killed more and I saved them, didn’t I?” Ainsley grabbed hold of her, searching her eyes for the kindness that he knew abounded in her.
“The man in the papers?” Margaret choked out the words. “The man who…” her voice trailed off as she swallowed back her words.
“I didn’t mean to,” Ainsley said. “I was going to hand him over to the inspector, I swear. I just wanted to rough him up a bit. Teach him a lesson.”
“Peter, it’s not your fault.” Jonas knelt beside him. “He had no choice, Margaret.”
Margaret shook her head but she didn’t appear angry. “What about this girl? Who did you see?” She reached for him and held his shoulders.
“I don’t know,” Ainsley said defeated. “They follow me everywhere. They haunt my dreams. I can’t escape them. I’m losing my mind.” He fell into her arms and cried.
“We need to get you both out of this rain,” Ainsley heard Jonas say. “You’ll catch your death.”
Steps approached them and when Ainsley looked up he saw Walter and Nathaniel with the other lantern moving gingerly through the unstable mud. “Is everything all right?” Walter asked.
“We need to get home as quickly as we can,” Margaret said, still holding tight to her brother. “My brother is not well.”
Chapter 32
And rove and revel on.
Your gall shall never make
When they first arrived home, Maxwell and Jamieson helped Ainsley into dry bedclothes and built a fire in the fireplace. Then Margaret sat with him in his bed, whispering funny stories to him of their childhood at The Briar and avoiding all topics of murder and death that would be sure to unsettle him further. Satisfied that he was sound asleep, Margaret left him and exited his room, mindful of her footfalls and the silence in the rest of the house.
“Is he feeling restored?”
Margaret nearly jumped when she heard Jonas’s voice in the darkness of the hall beyond her bedroom door. He stepped from the shadows. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She waved off his concern. “He is better,” she said, stopping short of entering her room. She turned her attention to him. “It took a while to get him relaxed enough to sleep but I think he should be good until morning.”
Margaret could feel an uneasiness between them, a wall that had not been there earlier. “I don’t blame you for keeping his secret from me,” she said, “if that is what worries you.” She could just make out his form, recognizing the angle of his jaw and the point of his nose in the darkness. She could not tell if he was relieved by her acceptance. Truth be told, the facts revealed to her hadn’t quite set in. She could scarcely believe her brother had been the one responsible for dispatching the man who maimed her.
“Or is it Blair Thornton that worries you?” The realization hit her instantly. Jonas had been witness to a great deal of flirting that evening, nothing that she instigated, but still it must have been unnerving all the same. “I care nothing for him, you must know that.”
“I was wondering if perhaps you had changed your mind,” Jonas said.
“Certainly not.” She stepped toward him, her lips stopping inches from his. “I’m only playing a part until I am able to set Ivy free.” Reaching up, she pulled at a tuft of his hair, smiling at how soft it felt in her fingers. “Send me word and I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Jonas Davies.”
His expression remained serious despite Margaret’s touch. “I fear I will be a disappointment to you. I cannot promise lavish dinners or crystal goblets. I am a surgeon, nothing more.”
Her hand slipped from his hair to the back of his neck, holding him to her. “A greater fool there never was than he who believes I want any of that.” She kissed him expressly, savouring the feeling of his lips touching hers. She allowed him to gather her in his arms, wishing to meld into him further than their clothed bodies could allow. He pulled away, leaving his hands on her waist as he kissed the side of her neck gently. With her right hand Margaret reached behind her and turned the iron knob of her door.
Jonas stepped back but she did not release his hand. She pulled him in as she stepped back, smiling, knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him. “Don’t be afraid,” she said softly. “I’m not.”
Chapter 33
Me honied paths forsake;
So prythee get thee gone.
The morning brought a thin mist that draped the landscape in a fabric veil that softened the light of the sun. Ainsley had lost all enthusiasm for the hunt and would have rather stayed home than venture out into the damp woods but he had no choice. Aunt Louisa insisted he and Margaret go as they said they would.
Not wanting to be left out, Margaret intended to ride as well and appeared at the front door wearing the traditional navy jacket, breeches, and top boots. Seeing her made Ainsley anxious. He worried that he would not be able to keep his composure. His mind had been made too fragile and he worried he wouldn’t be able to steady himself. He must have borne his worry on his face because Margaret came directly to him.
“You don’t have to go,” she said. “I don’t care what Aunt Louisa says.”
Ainsley smiled at her concern. “I want to go. I need a good dash through the woods to take my mind off things. It clears my head.”
Margaret nodded but he could tell she was doubtful.
“Where’s Jonas?” Ainsley asked, glancing into the library.
“He’s gone,” Margaret said sharply. “I asked Walter to see him to the train station a few moments ago.” She paused, studying Ainsley’s face for a moment before licking her lips. “He wanted to say goodbye but we didn’t wish to wake you.”
Ainsley would have liked to offer a proper farewell but he knew he’d be seeing him in London within the next few days. His old friend had been right. He couldn’t avoid the city for long. He’d have to face the evils, both real and imaginary, if he had any hope of regaining control of himself.
Nathaniel nearly skipped down the stairs to meet them at the front door. Donning a broad smile it was quite evident he was eager to be on their way.
> “Shall we go?” Margaret tapped her whip on the side of her boot and turned for the door. They let Nathaniel pass them on the front steps as they walked toward the barn.
“I’ve made a decision about Ivy,” Ainsley said before they got too far. “I believe you and I should pay a visit to St. Andrew’s house and order her release.”
“When?” Margaret asked eagerly.
“This afternoon.”
She nodded. “Yes, absolutely.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said cautiously. “I swear to you I told them to keep her away from there.”
Margaret studied him for a time before speaking. “I believe you,” she said softly, “about everything.”
The sky had grown pink by the time they entered The Briar’s stable. Maxwell and the stable boy had already prepared their horses and had them waiting in the centre of the barn. “I fear the fog is not letting up,” Maxwell warned as they mounted their horses. “I daresay your quarry will outsmart you.”
“I doubt we will be catching many foxes,” Ainsley said truthfully, “we go for the hunt not the prize.”
Maxwell tipped his cap as Ainsley, Margaret, and Nathaniel set off for Breaside.
They were to meet at the meadow farther down the road from the house. The trio said nothing as they led their horses past the spot where Ainsley insisted he had seen something in the woods. They passed the estate and weaved their way along the path next to the stables before spying the hunting party along the fence line of one of the fields.
A pair of dog handlers, each with half a dozen eager hounds, held fast to the tethers of the dogs as the animals struggled against their restraints. Intermittent barks broke the silence of the dawn, sending the pack into a chorus of yelps before finally settling down. They could smell the excitement and wanted to be set free to chase down their quarry.
“Miss Priscilla looks lovely this morning, does she not?” Nathaniel said as they gingerly led their horses through the tall grass.
Margaret was quick to give their cousin a disparaging look. “I strongly caution you, cousin,” she said, adjusting her grip on her reins. “Not many English gentlemen would look kindly on such attention being given to their fiancée.”
Nathaniel pressed his lips together as he looked toward the girl who was quickly becoming an infatuation. “If that were true then why hasn’t Mr. Thornton made a point to claim her as his wife?” He gave Margaret and Ainsley a mirthful smile before leading his horse in Priscilla’s direction.
Margaret drew in a long breath as she watched him leave. “How do you suppose Brandon will react to Nathaniel’s attentions toward his bride?”
Ainsley gave a quick laugh. “You assume he will even grace us with his presence today.”
They led their horses deeper into the meadow, beyond the dozen or so hounds that periodically pulled at their tethers, to the gathering of the hunters—Lord Thornton, Sir John, and Blair, who stood near a weathered fence.
Blair smiled when he saw Margaret and reached for her horse’s bridle when she neared. “Good morning,” he said.
Ainsley brought his horse alongside Margaret’s. “Feeling well?” Ainsley asked, remembering the number of drinks Blair had consumed the night before. He hadn’t meant it as an insult but Blair indeed took offence.
“Well enough to ride, if that’s what you mean,” he replied bitterly. Blair returned his attention to Margaret. “I hope you are not offended by my behaviour last evening,” he said. “It was the drink, you realize.”
Margaret offered a forced smile. “Of course.”
Ainsley slipped from his horse’s saddle and pulled the reins over the mare’s head. When he rounded the front of his horse he looked to Margaret again and noticed Blair had gone to speak with his father and Sir John. “That was a fine morning greeting,” Ainsley said, amused by Blair’s disdain toward him.
“He was acting rather strangely last evening,” Margaret said after dismounting. Together they led their horses to the fence to tie them. “It seemed out of character for him.”
“So many years have passed, Margaret. We can scarcely say we know their character at all,” Ainsley answered honestly.
Another horse had been led to the fence and when Ainsley and Margaret turned, they saw Brandon, haggard and looking poorly. Ainsley recognized the look well enough, having suffered his own ill effects the morning after heavy drinking. When Brandon pulled out a flask from his inside pocket Ainsley realized the drinking hadn’t yet ended.
Brandon turned as if never noticing them standing at the fence and began walking toward his father. “Let’s get this hunt underway!” he yelled to those gathered. “I have an insatiable desire to kill something.”
Ainsley watched as he took a long drink from his flask. If Ainsley had ever behaved such as that in public, or at the very least in his father’s presence, he’d be whisked away and threatened with the strap. Lord Thornton, however, paid no attention to his son’s drunken shouts.
They watched as Priscilla approached Brandon on foot, the reins of her horse held loosely in her grasp. Appearing distracted, Brandon nodded at some unheard words she spoke and then as quickly as he had turned to her, he left, stumbling awkwardly.
“I wonder what he is escaping,” Ainsley said quietly so only Margaret could hear.
“How do you mean?”
“A man who imbibes that much is trying to drown out something,” Ainsley explained.
“As you have done?”
“Yes.” Ainsley no longer bothered to hide his fondness for his own flask. He’d only recently become aware of his dependence for it, though he wasn’t sure exactly how to deal with it.
Margaret seemed to ponder his words for a moment before speaking. “The clerk at the asylum said something that’s been bothering me since yesterday.”
“Yes?”
“She said Ivy had already received two visitors that day. She almost didn’t let me see her.” Margaret placed her hands on her hips and continued to watch Brandon make his way to the other side of the encampment. “He seemed very concerned for Ivy’s welfare following the fire. Do you think Brandon may have gone to visit her?”
The realization overtook Ainsley like a sudden breeze rushing over their skin. “He’s the father of Ivy’s baby.”
He heard Margaret gasp before turning from the group and placing her hand over her face. “Oh Ivy,” she whispered. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Let us away!” Lord Thornton’s thunderous voice hushed the gathering quickly. As the handlers released the tethers of the dogs everyone looked on in rapt anticipation. Ainsley had suddenly lost interest in the hunt, caring nothing for the outcome. The party mobilized and everyone headed for their mounts. Lord Thornton and Sir John secured their rifles, and threw themselves up into their saddles.
“Brandon was her second visitor yesterday,” Ainsley said as they pulled their horses from the fence.
“And now he’s drinking away the memory of it,” Margaret added as horse after horse was led by them, trotting single file through the gate, headed for the woods. “Do you think he knows she was pregnant?”
Ainsley watched as the party rode past them. Brandon’s engagement to Priscilla would have prevented him from claiming the child as his. Other nobles often paid for the education of their illegitimate children, even if the relationship with the child’s mother had met an end. Others still abandoned their bastard children altogether, knowing a fallen woman of lower birth wouldn’t dare come forward claiming any relationship took place. Often, such acts created worse situations for the mothers than they did for the nobles. The fact that Brandon risked discovery by visiting St. Andrew’s House meant he still had feelings for the girl and most likely had not known that, until recently, she was carrying his child.
“Come, Margaret,” Ainsley said, readying to mount his horse, “or we shall never catch up to them.”
The party spread out through the woods, slowly following the hounds that sniffed, nos
es pressed to the underbrush, searching for any hint of their desired quarry. Within minutes, a sharp bark echoed through the woods, inciting raucous yelps from the others, who were excited to be on the hunt. Ainsley tightened his grip on his reins, in anticipation of a speedy jaunt through the woods. He glanced to his left and saw Margaret do the same.
The entire pack of dogs began a chorus of yips and yelps, and then took off deeper into the woods as a collective. The hunters kicked their horses in pursuit and began bounding through the woods.
“Stay close, Margaret,” Ainsley instructed as they guided their horses toward the direction the other hunters headed.
The hunt started slow until the dogs found a stronger scent and charged through the woods, causing the hunters to barrel after them. Ainsley fell into the chase, darting between tree trunks and jumping creek beds, all the while keeping an eye on Brandon, who kept pace near the front of the party. Ainsley could feel the beat of his heart, pounding the confinement of his ribcage. He needed to speak to Brandon, if only to find out what he suspected was true.
“Over there!” Ainsley saw Blair just ahead, pointing to the right and redirecting his horse to follow. A quick glance over his shoulder told him Margaret was close enough to follow so he led the way, converging with the group as the trees gave way to a stream, with steep banks leading down and then up again. The group slowed to a trot as they approached. Nathaniel brought his horse alongside Ainsley. “Jolly good fun, isn’t it?”
Ainsley wasn’t sure exactly what to say. The sport of it had left him the minute he realized Brandon had taken advantage of a young girl and, perhaps, had caused the girl’s admittance to the asylum.
“Peter, take Priscilla and Margaret that way,” Blair said, pointing to the section of water with a gentler bank on the opposite side. “We’ll follow the dogs this way and we can meet up on the other side of that ridge.”
Ainsley nodded and moved the reins to bring his horse around. The horses scaled the hill and crested the top easily. He paused to allow Priscilla the chance to catch up and noticed Nathaniel following him as well. Slightly out of breath, Margaret appeared at his side.
Sweet Asylum Page 23
