Scandal Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  Nell took a long look at him, noting the scent of brandy in the air, the careful articulation and the suspiciously innocent expression on his face. Raised in a household of men, she was aware of the signs of a gentleman who had imbibed a trifle overgenerously. Exasperated, she said, “Not only gone hunting for hours, but bosky in the bargain.” There was a twinkle in her eyes that told him that she was not truly angry.

  He grinned, a slow, lazy grin that made her heart turn over in her breast. “Perhaps, a bit,” he admitted. “We didn’t intend for it to happen, but Marcus and I were, uh, very friendly with the decanter of brandy in my study.” He kissed her nose. “I appreciate your anxiety, my dear, but you see before you your husband returned unharmed.”

  He looked weary and devilish attractive with his shirt half-undone and his black hair mussed and tangled. There was a shadow of a beard darkening his lean jaw and for a moment Nell was transported back to her first sight of him. He looked a brigand then, albeit a very appealing brigand, and he looked a brigand now—one she adored. Trailing a caressing finger along that jaw she asked, “Did you eat anything? I had Dibble prepare a cold buffet for you.”

  Guiding her to a chair by the fire, Julian sat down, pulling her into his lap as he did so. With Nell nestled near to him, her tawny curls brushing his chin, he said, “I thank you for your kindness, Madame wife, but we were not hungry. The brandy filled our needs.”

  Her eyes on the fire, basking in the comfort of his nearness, she asked, “Julian, what was the real reason that John Hunter came for you?” She looked up at him. “And please, do not lie to me.”

  Julian hesitated. He’d wanted to keep the horror of the day far away from his home, especially from her, but her words made it impossible. His voice bleak, he said, “Hunter found the body of the woman you saw murdered in your nightmare. She was spread out in a small clearing near the north end of my lands.”

  Nell bolted upright. “But it cannot be! He never leaves the body where it can be found. He always…” She stopped, frowning. “There is a sluice hole in the dungeon,” she said after a moment, “and he always throws the bodies down it.”

  “Well, he didn’t this one,” Julian said. Wearily he added, “Unless there are two such monsters at work in the neighborhood and that I cannot believe.” He stared into Nell’s eyes. “There is no mistaking his work—not from what you described to me last night. She was torn apart,” he said, “and tossed on the ground like so much refuse. I cannot prove it, but I am convinced that she is the woman you saw murdered last night.”

  Nell’s gaze fell and her fingers dug into the palms of her hands. “But he never…”

  “I know that it is hard for you, but think back to last night,” Julian said gently. “Did you actually see him put the body down the sluice hole?”

  “The dreams always end the same way, with him putting the bodies down the sluice hole,” she explained patiently. “And last night was no diff—” She paused, a puzzled expression on her face. “I did not see him do that last night,” she admitted. Her eyes flew to Julian’s. “What he did last night was so frightening that I woke before…” She shivered. “If the woman you found is indeed the woman in my nightmare, why did he change his custom? He has done his awful work for years in secrecy because the bodies are never found. Why did he leave this one out where it can be found?”

  Julian’s arms tightened around her and he pulled back next to him. His lips brushing her hair, he said, “Have no doubt, the body was indeed the victim of your recent nightmare. As for his reasoning…perhaps, something has changed and he wanted her to be found.” He frowned. “It could be that he underestimated Hunter’s knowledge of the land and he assumed the place he had chosen to dispose of her body would never be discovered—or least not for months. Or, worse, he did know of Hunter’s devotion to the estate and for his own twisted needs he wanted everyone to be aware of his work. It could be that after years of doing his deeds in secrecy, he wanted someone to find her—wanted people to see what he did to her.”

  “I wonder why he left the body on your land,” Nell mused. “How is it that John Hunter found her so quickly?”

  Julian rested his head back against the top of the chair. “You have to understand Hunter. He breathes the land and he has been its lover, its caretaker for decades. He grew up here. He knows every inch, every hollow, every dell, every glen…He knows everything about the forest right down to the number of fox, stag and hares at any given time—and where they can be found. I exaggerate, but I swear that not a leaf can fall that he doesn’t know about it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I did not ask him how he came to be in that area, but I’ll wager that he’ll have a good reason.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “The magistrate and the bailiff have been notified and the body has been taken away. In fact the magistrate spent a fruitless afternoon and the better part of the evening with us trying to follow your Shadow Man’s trail. We used Hunter’s dogs, but the trail went cold at the river. By then we were soaked and chilled from the rain and wind and it was dark and late. Since there was very little moonlight, and we were all tired, wet and discouraged, we called the hunt off.”

  “What will happen to her body? Do you think that she is a local?”

  “I have asked Dr. Coleman to examine her. Once she has been…cleaned, it is possible that Coleman will recognize her. He is the only physician for miles around and if she is a local woman, it is possible that he will know her. The magistrate as well as the bailiff will be making inquiries about any missing women.” Julian hugged her against him. “God, Nell!” he said in shaken tones, “but this is a curst, ugly business. And terrifying that you are so closely linked with it.”

  “Harder for you than me,” Nell said. “I have lived with the knowledge of this monster for a decade or more, but you…You have just learned of him.”

  “And wish to God that I had not!” His lips brushed her temple. “But most of all, I wish that you had never been subjected to the horror of his handiwork.”

  She smiled sadly. “I, too, wish the same, but perhaps, there is a reason behind my having the nightmares. Remember: from what we learn from them, we may find a way to stop him.”

  Julian stifled a yawn. “That is the only saving grace I can find in this whole ugly business.”

  Standing up, she reached for his hand. “Come to bed,” she urged. “I can see that you are exhausted.”

  The firelight behind her silhouetted her form and a gleam entered his eyes. “Bed sounds a fine idea…especially with you in it and in my arms,” he said huskily as he rose from his seat and pulled her into an embrace. He kissed her long, hard and deep. “Most especially,” he breathed against her tingling lips, “with you in my arms.”

  He swept her up into the air and carried her to the huge, canopied bed. Lying her in the center, he smiled down at her. “I do not know how it comes about, but I have never made love to you in my bed. I shall have to rectify that omission.”

  And he did. Most enjoyably and quite, quite thoroughly.

  Despite his intention for an early start the next morning, Julian’s plans were foiled by the weather. The weather that had bedeviled them the previous night had become a howling storm and the notion of riding out in blowing rain and screaming wind was promptly put aside.

  After a long, leisurely breakfast wherein Marcus paid all the women extravagant compliments and brought a blush more than once to Elizabeth’s cheeks, the gentlemen closeted themselves for several hours in Julian’s study. Nell sent them a dark look as they exited the morning room, knowing that she was being abandoned to feminine pastimes while they discussed more weighty matters.

  The ladies spent the day going over more pattern books and craftsman catalogs in search of furnishings for the Dower House. Nell chafed at sitting on the sofa looking at swatch after swatch of fabric and page after page of furniture when she longed to join the gentlemen in the study. She knew that they would be discussing how best to proceed
with finding out the identity of the slain woman and how to catch the killer. She scowled. She knew more about the Shadow Man than anyone did, but did they ask her opinion? She snorted. Of course not! She was only a mere woman to be petted and cosseted. Grudgingly she admitted that Julian was only trying to protect her, but it was ridiculous. She was already deep in the middle of it. She should be in that study with them instead of here listening to Lady Diana’s joyous exclamations as yet another swatch of fabric or chair was found that pleased her eye.

  Unable to stand it a moment longer, she leaped to her feet and after making an excuse to the other two women, with her spine ramrod straight, she went in search of her husband. She found Julian and Marcus still in the study, and from the grim expressions on their faces when she entered the room, she knew that they had been discussing the murdered woman.

  Both men immediately rose when she entered, but she waved them back to their chairs and seated herself on a small, channel-backed sofa not far from the fire. Fixing both men with a determined stare, she said, “Forgive me for intruding, but it is ridiculous to pretend that I do not have something to offer concerning this matter.” At the stubborn expression that appeared on Julian’s face, she said quickly, “You know that I am right, my lord, and that I have a personal interest in finding out who murdered that poor young girl. A more personal interest than either one of you.”

  Marcus appeared stunned. He stared incredulously at Julian. “You told her?”

  “Not exactly,” Julian said grimly. He studied Nell’s set face and sighed. He had married a strong woman and she was not going to let him wrap her in ermine and silk and keep her safely in the background. No, he thought with rueful admiration, his Nell was pluck to the backbone and, it appeared, resolute in throwing herself in the midst of deadly peril.

  “Not exactly? What the hell does that mean?” demanded Marcus, his gaze moving from one taut face to the other. “What the devil is going on here?”

  Julian sighed. “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”

  Nell had known when she walked into that room that she would have to share the secret of the nightmares with Marcus. She just hadn’t realized how hard it would be to convince a stranger that she was not a candidate for Bedlam. It helped that Julian supported her. And that he believed her. She began her story…

  It was Julian’s belief in her that eventually convinced Marcus. Like Julian he had been skeptical and disbelieving in the beginning. From the looks he occasionally shot his cousin, it was clear that for a while he thought that both of them were mad. But gradually, as she and Julian laid it all out for him, he became a believer.

  “I cannot believe it! You saw John murdered?” Marcus asked several times. “You actually saw it? In your, er, nightmare?”

  Patiently Nell assured him that this was so, and tried not to be annoyed when he would glance then at Julian for confirmation of what she said.

  Once he was receptive to the idea that she had indeed seen the murder of John Weston a decade ago, it seemed easier for him to accept that she had dreamed the murder of several innocent women by the same man who had slain his oldest cousin. “And the place is always the same?” he demanded. “You are positive of that? There is no mistake?”

  “Yes, it is always the same. And no, I am not mistaken,” she answered sharply, “and I have never seen his face.”

  “You do realize, don’t you, Lady Wyndham, that you are in grave danger?” Marcus asked slowly. “Should this monster learn that you watch him through your nightmares he would stop at nothing to silence you…You could end up in the ghastly dungeon of his.”

  “That will never happen,” said Julian with quiet determination. “I will keep her safe.” He stared at Marcus. “We will keep her safe.”

  Marcus nodded, and for once there was no sign of his usual ready smile. He took a deep breath. “And the best way to do that is find those bloody dungeons and the madman who inhabits them.”

  “I agree, but until this weather breaks we cannot go forward,” Julian said.

  A speculative expression in his gaze, Marcus looked at Nell. “These nightmares of yours: are you certain that you will recognize the place if we actually find it?”

  It was obvious to both Nell and Julian that though he was trying gamely to believe in Nell’s nightmares and what they revealed, Marcus was not totally convinced.

  “She will recognize them,” Julian said flatly.

  Julian and Marcus were aimlessly playing a game of billiards several hours later when Dibble appeared with the news that Dr. Coleman had come to call. The two men exchanged glances and as one threw down their cues and left the room with swift strides. Julian called over his shoulder to Dibble as he walked away, “Some of your rum punch, Dibble. We will have need of it.”

  Dibble had shown Dr. Coleman into Julian’s study and he had been standing and staring at the fire, but at the entrance of Julian and Marcus he turned and looked at them. Greetings were exchanged and Julian’s offer of warm punch was gladly accepted. Polite conversation flowed as Dibble returned with the punch and served it.

  After Dibble had departed, Julian said, “Tell us all that you have discovered.”

  “In all my years, I have never seen anything like it,” Dr. Coleman said in shaken tones. “It is as if a beast ravaged her, tried to tear her apart.”

  “It was a beast,” Julian said grimly. “A human beast with a heart of evil.”

  Dr. Coleman nodded. “Yes, I agree. But I was not certain as to the cause of death until I examined the body closely—then it became clear that her terrible wounds were made by the hand of a man and not an animal.”

  “A debatable point,” murmured Marcus.

  Dr. Coleman grimaced. “Yes, yes, indeed.” He took another sip of the punch as if fortifying himself to go on. “Her features were unrecognizable to me at first,” he continued, “but once I had washed away the blood and debris I realized that I knew her. Her name is, er, was, Ann Barnes and she works…worked at a small family inn not far from the coast, some ten miles north of here. I treated her last year for chicken pox when it swept through the county.” He sighed. “Poor, poor child! She was only seventeen. Such a tragedy! A waste. All the more so since I discovered that she was pregnant.” At Julian’s sharp look, he added, “I found the remains of the fetus. From its development, I suspect that she could not have been more than four months pregnant.”

  It was agreed that Dr. Coleman would notify Ann Barnes’s family of her death. There was some discussion about the burial, and not wishing for her family to look upon those mutilated remains, as much to spare them the awful sight as to disguise the murder, Julian requested that the doctor take care of all the arrangements.

  “I do not want her parents to see what that monster did to her, nor cause panic in the area,” Julian said. “So I think it would be best if her body was returned to them in a sealed coffin. Naturally I shall pay for it.”

  “I shall have to tell them something concerning her death,” Dr. Coleman protested.

  “Tell them that she fell from the cliffs,” Marcus said, “and that his lordship wished to spare them the sight of damage done by the rocks and the sea.”

  Julian looked thoughtfully at Marcus, wondering if his cousin realized how closely that story tallied with Nell’s brush with death a decade ago. It made him uncomfortable, the similarities, but he agreed that the tale would explain much. Aloud he said, “I shall write to the magistrate immediately and the bailiff to let them know what we propose. And hope to God they have not already spread the manner of her death.”

  Dr. Coleman bowed. “I spoke with both of them late last night and we agreed that the less said abroad, the better. They are discreet men, my lord. You have nothing to fear of them speaking of things they should not. No one wants the populace frightened and starting at shadows.” He pulled out his pocket watch and glancing at it, said, “I have a meeting with both of them at my house in an hour. I shall be happy to relate to them what has been decide
d here.”

  Having delivered his report, and the meeting with the magistrate and bailiff looming, Dr. Coleman did not linger.

  After he had left, Julian stood up and walked to the window that overlooked the driveway. The weather was still beastly and he did not envy Dr. Coleman the ride to his house.

  It wasn’t until late that night when they retired that Julian was able to relate to Nell all that had been revealed by the doctor’s visit. Curled up by his side in bed, she listened as he told her what they now knew about the victim. When he spoke of the fetus, Nell’s hands instinctively curved around her belly. She and the dead woman had not been very far apart in their pregnancies. It hurt to think of not only the wanton death of a young woman with everything to live for, but also the innocent creature that had grown in Ann Barnes’s belly.

  Julian’s warm hand closed over hers. “I know,” he said softly. “I thought the same thing. You and young Ann would have given birth within weeks of each other.”

  “We must stop this monster,” Nell said fiercely. “He must not be allowed to continue to kill at will.”

  “Have no fear, we will find him and we will stop him, no matter where he runs or where he hides.” There was silence for a moment as they both considered the formidable task before them. Then Julian said, “Marcus and I will poke about, and we may learn something that will put us on his track.”

  The inclement weather continued almost unabated for over two weeks and since there had been no urgent reason for him to return home, Marcus accepted Julian’s invitation to stay at Wyndham Manor. By the time the series of storms had blown themselves out, everyone was heartily sick of rain and wind—and more wind and rain. There had not been a day that it had not rained, sometimes it had rained the entire day and night. But then the skies cleared and while every roof, fence, twig, branch and leaf dripped water, the sun had finally shone. The storms had lashed the neighborhood hard—all the area rivers and streams were swollen and roaring, some spilling their banks and flooding the adjacent lands; nearly every road, path and walkway was knee-deep in mud and littered with puddles. On that last Monday in February, the inhabitants of Wyndham Manor greeted the sight of the sun shining in the blue sky with grateful pleasure and delight. Meeting at the breakfast table that morning, everyone was full of plans and impatient to be gone and busy with their affairs.