Once Upon A Regency

by Samantha Grace

  Such training took time and patience. These attacks were not rash acts committed in the heat of the moment. Damn all these secrets and lies.

  He wished Winnie knew more than what she’d told him.

  It wasn’t much for him to go on, a story about being taken from her baronial home as an infant and placed in the care of her three godmothers. Was it even true? And what other information were her godmothers hiding from the girl?

  As he walked down the road, he realized that Miss Allenby-Falk’s house was on the outskirts of town, situated beyond a hill that obstructed everyone’s view of her home until they were almost upon it.

  He was now more curious than ever about an eccentric spinster who lived in isolation and quietly set the sort of traps that could sever one’s foot.

  He hoped she’d be at the fair and not available when he called, for he was eager to search her property without distraction.

  As he approached her house, a rather gloomy, run-down structure built of gray stone, he saw her dash out the door and hurry toward a barn that was little more than pieces of rotting wood holding up a shabby roof. She had a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, but as the wind gusted and blew back the cloak, he noticed that her arm was in a sling. Bloody hell.

  The wind gusted again and suddenly shifted direction, carrying with it a stench reminiscent of dead bodies strewn about a battlefield. In the next moment, he heard barks and whimpers coming from the barn. Of course, that’s where you keep the dogs.

  He realized those creatures would pick up his scent if he did not leave immediately, so he quietly backed away.

  He’d seen enough.

  He decided to return to Winnie and make certain she was safe. He’d secure the house and talk to her godmothers, make them aware of the danger. Only then would he go off in search of the magistrate. The man would no doubt be at the fair, in charge of the festivities now that the Darkwells were on the run.

  As for Miss Allenby-Falk, it took a particular sort of twisted mind to plot murder.

  He was glad he’d warned Winnie to remain indoors. Miss Allenby-Falk was as deranged and vicious as her dogs.

  From what he could make out, there appeared to be only two of those creatures left.

  But they could still cause much harm.

  He had to warn Winnie.

  * * * *

  Winnie’s mind began to race as Miss Allenby-Falk emerged from a wooded area near the stream and walked toward her followed by two sharp-toothed creatures who barely resembled dogs. “Winnie, what a pleasant surprise. Are you out here on your own?”

  “Captain Mariner will be along soon.” I hope. “You remember him, don’t you? He’s the one who shot you last night.”

  “And killed my dogs.” Miss Allenby-Falk always had a bird-like aspect to her movements, her gaze darting right and left and head always bobbing as though she were searching for earthworms. Those little quirks were now so prominent that the woman’s entire body twitched, no doubt with excitement now that Winnie was obviously alone and trapped.

  She ought to have heeded the captain’s warning. Logically, her assailants should have been on the run or in hiding until the captain left Grasmere.

  But madness wasn’t logical.

  Captain Mariner understood, but she hadn’t until now that it was too late.

  Winnie took a step back but kept her fire iron poised. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

  Miss Allenby-Falk stopped bobbing her head and gazed at her with a disquieting intensity. “I don’t wish to merely hurt you. I wish to kill you.”

  Winnie’s heart began to pound against her chest with painful force. She was in trouble. The woman was a bad mix of bloodthirsty and deranged. “Very well,” she said, trying to keep the woman distracted and talking until help came along, “why must you kill me? What have I ever done to you?”

  She tried to sound calm but didn’t think she was succeeding, for her voice cracked with every other word, and she had so many more questions. Why now upon my twenty-first birthday? And what was Lord and Lady Darkwell’s role in the demented plans?

  “You’ve existed, that’s all.” Miss Allenby-Falk shrugged her bony shoulders and studied the swift current as it moved downstream. “You were the beautiful child who brought joy to her parents. But their joy was my pain. Your death will end my pain, so now it’s time for beauty to sleep... an eternal sleep.”

  Winnie raised her shovel, preparing to take a swing. “I don’t think so.”

  The madwoman took a step toward her. “I tried to drown you once, you know.”

  “It appears you failed.” Goading the madwoman wasn’t the brightest idea, but she needed to stall for time. If the woman had tried to drown her, the attempt must have occurred long before Winnie was old enough to keep memories. No wonder she’d always been afraid of the water. She suppressed a shudder, realizing she was standing beside deep waters now. Her body began to shake and her breaths now came too fast to control.

  Please, Captain Mariner. Now would be a good time for you to appear.

  “Did your doting godmothers never tell you what happened? How sweet. They wanted to spare you the lurid details. What else haven’t they told you? Probably all of it.”

  Winnie’s fingers were white against the fire iron she was gripping it so hard. “But you’ll tell me. It will give you pleasure to see me cry and suffer.”

  Miss Allenby-Falk glanced at her dogs, who were crouched low and softly growling. “I spent years training my pets, waiting for the day I’d watch them rip out your throat. But I have a better plan.” Her laughter was a harsh cackle. “I’ll watch you drown instead.”

  Winnie glanced at the stream.

  She didn’t know which was worse, death by drowning or by dog attack. She might have saved herself if she’d taken Captain Mariner up on his offer. Too late now to learn how to swim.

  “The morning mist usually lingers over the water until midmorning, but it burned off early today. I won’t miss a moment of your drowning.” She raised a hand to signal her dogs.

  “Approach!” she cried, and they obeyed, creeping toward Winnie, their bodies tensed and in a crouch, teeth still bared so that spittle drooled from their mouths.

  Winnie tried to move away from the water. She wanted to put the dogs between her and the stream, but they nipped at her legs and forced her to back up against the water’s edge so that she was about to lose her balance and fall in.

  She had to fight.

  It was her only chance.

  Miss Allenby-Falk’s eyes were aglow with madness. “You’re as stupid as the Merridale sisters! Did they think I would never find you? That I wouldn’t recognize the missing daughter of—” She threw back her head and bellowed with laughter.

  Whose daughter am I? Tell me before I die!

  Miss Allenby-Falk suddenly stopped laughing. “I’ve changed my mind again. Now I want to see you bleed.” She waved her hand and cast Winnie a smile of pure evil as she called to her dogs. “Attack!”

  Oh, mercy!

  So many thoughts raced through Winnie’s mind in that instant. That she’d never see Captain Mariner again. That she’d never see her beloved godmothers and hadn’t said a proper goodbye to those dotty old darlings who had cared for her all of her life.

  Then she had no more time to think, for the dogs lunged at her and it took all her concentration to swing the fire iron with all her might and keep those beasts from tearing out her throat.

  Her thrusts and parries were frenzied, and she knew that if she kept swinging the fire iron at this pace her arms would quickly tire. She had no choice. Her life was in peril and no one was here to save her.

  Her screams were also frenzied, her terror strangling those cries so that they died on the wind before ever reaching the house.

  She had to save herself, but her plan wasn’t working too well. She lost her footing when one of the dogs lunged forward and managed to bite her finger, piercing her flesh with its needle-sharp teeth. She fell backwards in
to the stream.

  I can’t die!

  She tried to scream again, but no sound came out. When in abject fear, apparently one didn’t have the voice to cry out. Panic had a way of constricting the throat and rendering one mute.

  Water surrounded her arms and legs.

  She wasn’t far from the house. Did her godmothers hear the dogs growling? Would Mr. Halloway emerge from his ale stupor in time to grab his old musket and scare them away?

  Water surrounded her neck and ears.

  She’d never see Captain Mariner again.

  Her arms began to burn with pain as she flailed uselessly, and then they became as heavy as anchors so that she could no longer raise them. It isn’t fair. Give me another chance!

  Winnie wanted to die fighting, not miserably drowning in the stream. She didn’t want to sink beneath the chill waters, but that’s what was happening. The water now covered her nose and mouth, and it was too deep for her to push against the bottom of the stream to propel herself above the surface and gulp air.

  She opened her eyes as she sank into the water and searched in desperation for a foothold... a branch... anything to grab as the current pushed her under and swept her downstream.

  At the same time, she felt a stinging sensation in her hand where the dog had bitten her, apparently more than once for its sharp teeth had cut into the flesh of her palm as well as her finger. Streaks of red mixed with the water’s blue.

  She closed her eyes and fought with all her might against the fast current.

  Her lungs felt as though they were about to burst.

  She was going to die.

  WISH UPON A KISS

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ardaric dove into the water, praying he wasn’t too late. Damn Miss Allenby-Falk’s traps. He’d lost precious moments, forced to take a longer route to Kingsley Hall than the madwoman had used.

  He’d seen Winnie go under but couldn’t get to her, for Miss Allenby-Falk had set her dogs on him. He’d quickly dispatched the creatures, and Mr. Halloway had arrived at that moment to take custody of the madwoman.

  But precious time had been lost fighting them off. How far had the current dragged Winnie?

  Or was she caught among the grasses?

  How long could she hold her breath?

  He stayed under and searched until his lungs began to burn. He was about to swim up for air when he saw her limp body entwined in a patch of grass on the opposite bank of the stream. He swam to her in two long strokes and pulled her to the surface. “Winnie, breathe!” he cried as soon as he felt the cold breeze on his face.

  He released his own breath in a gasp.

  But Winnie didn’t gasp.

  She didn’t move.

  She wasn’t breathing.

  “No, sweetheart! Don’t give up.” He’d seen her fend off the dogs and knew she had a fighting spirit. “Winnie, please. Come back to me.”

  He lifted her out of the water and set her down on the grass, sparing only a glance behind him to make certain Mr. Halloway still had the madwoman in his control.

  Mrs. Halloway lumbered to his side and saw Winnie’s motionless form. “Oh, no! Not our Winnie!” she wailed.

  “Luv, send for the magistrate at once,” Mr. Halloway said, “and better call for the doctor too.”

  Mrs. Halloway burst into tears. “What shall I tell the Merridale sisters?”

  “Luv,” Mr. Halloway said softly, “it doesn’t look good. Tell them to pray.”

  Ardaric had never been one for praying, but he was doing so with all his might right now. He wasn’t certain what else to do, but he’d seen a sailor revived once after drowning, so he mimicked the actions of the ship’s doctor, pressing on Winnie’s chest in a pumping motion. “One, two, three... four.”

  No response.

  He tried again. “One, two—”

  She lurched forward, heaving and gurgling as the water that had been trapped in her lungs began to spill out.

  “Winnie! Thank heaven!” But she wasn’t safe yet. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused. She was coughing and gasping as she struggled for each hard-fought breath.

  But she was breathing and that’s all that mattered now.

  His Winnie was alive.

  He lifted her into his arms, her slender body light and frail, and carried her back to Kingsley Hall. Her lips were blue, and her eyes had drifted closed so that he could no longer see their glow. The pins had fallen out of her hair so that her rich curls tumbled wet over her shoulders and spilled over his arms, dark ginger against the white lawn fabric of his shirt.

  He kicked open the front door ahead of Mrs. Halloway, who was doing her best to keep up with him in spite of her old legs slowing her down, and called for Winnie’s godmothers as he marched up the stairs. “Prudence! Serenity! Har—”

  Harmony was the first to scramble out of the parlor. “Upon my honor! You can’t sweep a girl into your arms and carry her to bed as though you were a heathen or a highlander. What are you doing? And why are you sopping wet?”

  Prudence followed her out. “Hush, Harmony! Can’t you see that Winnie’s injured? Why, you’re the gentleman from the inn.”

  Serenity darted in front of him to open Winnie’s bedroom door. “What happened to our girl?”

  “First, help me get her out of her wet clothes.” He frowned at the Merridale sisters. “I have plenty of questions for you three. For starters, who is Winnie really? And why does that Allenby-Falk woman want her dead?”

  * * * *

  Winnie heard Captain Mariner’s voice issuing instructions, but after a few moments all turned silent. Perhaps she’d lost consciousness again. How much time had passed since she’d fallen in the water? She moaned. “Sweetheart,” he said in a soft rumble, “you’re awake.” She sensed him beside her and reached out to touch his hand.

  She loved the tender ache in his voice. He’d called her his sweetheart, but what did it signify? She opened her eyes and smiled at him. They were in her bedchamber, she in bed, and he seated in a chair beside the bed. “What happened? You’re all wet.”

  His shirt was pasted to his muscled body, and his hair was slicked back. The leather boots and pants he wore were no doubt ruined. In other words, he looked magnificent.

  He grinned. “So were you until a few moments ago. Your godmothers changed you out of your wet clothes and put you into a very proper nightgown meant to protect your modesty, but my thoughts about you still remain shockingly immodest. However, I’ve promised to behave myself with you and I never break a promise. Regretfully, in this instance.”

  “That’s gallant of you. So you find me attractive?” Her words came out in a croak because her voice was raspy from her near drowning, and she sounded like a frog.

  He leaned forward and tweaked her nose. “Prudence has now gone off with Mrs. Halloway to summon the magistrate and the doctor. I will engage an excellent Bow Street runner by the name of Homer Barrow to hunt down the Darkwells and bring them to justice. Serenity and Harmony are destroying the kitchen as we speak, attempting to make you some broth.”

  “Oh, dear.” Winnie laughed, but her chest still burned, so her laughter ended with a groan. “You’d better check on them before they do more damage to the house.”

  He shook his head. “No, sweetheart. I’m not leaving your side.”

  She eased back against her pillows. “Until I’m better? My birthday party is tomorrow. Will you stay here until then?”

  He nodded.

  She hadn’t planned on crying, but a madwoman had tried to kill her today. As if that weren’t bad enough, she’d fallen in love with a handsome stranger and didn’t know his name. But what finally brought tears to her eyes was that she still didn’t know her own name. “I’ll turn twenty-one tomorrow and I don’t know who I am. Miss Allenby-Falk said I was someone’s missing daughter.”

  “You will know before this day is through... I promise.”

  By late afternoon, the doctor had seen Winnie and declared her recovered enough
to attend tomorrow’s surprise birthday party that had never been much of a surprise. Mr. Mortimer, the acting magistrate in Lord Darkwell’s absence, took Miss Allenby-Falk into his custody with assurances to the captain that she would be forever locked away. The captain had spoken quietly to Mr. Mortimer while they were outside, so Winnie couldn’t hear everything that they were saying, even though she’d poked her head out the bedroom window and was doing her best to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  Whatever the captain had conveyed to Mr. Mortimer made him turn pale. It also wiped that irritating leer off his face. She tried to ask the captain about it when he returned, but he refused to tell her what he’d said to scare the man.

  He’d planted a kiss on her forehead and gone off again.

  Winnie was too curious to stay in bed, so she sat by the window as Mr. Halloway and a dozen or so villagers left Kingsley Hall to scout Miss Allenby-Falk’s property. They needed to be sure there were no more dogs caged in her barn or prowling loose on the grounds.

  Winnie didn’t know what they would do if they found any. Those animals had been trained to kill. Could they ever be gentled?

  It took another hour before her godmothers and Captain Mariner were ready to begin their overdue discussion. The captain set four chairs around her bed, and he and her godmothers took their seats. Winnie fluffed her pillows and sat up, her back propped against the headboard.

  Prudence began first, her hair appearing a little grayer and her plump body sagging as though in defeat. “We thought we were protecting you,” she said in a tremulous whisper.

  Winnie reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I know. But I must be told the truth now. Who were my parents?”

  “Your mother was Aurora Brayburn, a lovely girl, just like you,” Prudence replied. “She and I were childhood friends. I was with her the day she met your father. He was one of the kindest gentlemen we’d ever met, a handsome vicar passing through town on his way back to his parish. He caught sight of your mother, and in that same moment, she noticed him.”

  “They fell in love,” Serenity said, her eyes misting as she continued the story. “That’s all it took, one glance and your parents knew they were meant for each other. He wasn’t titled or from a particularly important family, but that didn’t matter to your mother. They married soon afterward. His name was Peter Avonlea. You are Aurora Winifred Avonlea, their only child.”