Beauty and the Wolf

by Marina Myles

  “She will return. She loves you too much to be parted from you forever.”

  Isabella repressed a gasp. Is it my fate to kill Draven after all? Her entire body trembled at the thought.

  “I refuse to believe that Isabella’s destiny is written in stone.”

  The woman’s voice grew firm. “I told you: I have seen a vision of her pulling the trigger of a gun.”

  Isabella’s mouth went dry. So that is why Draven sent her away!

  He hesitated. “Are your visions always correct?”

  “They are.” She paused. “But I must say, in all my years I have never seen anything like the double curse that plagues you and your wife.”

  “Our love cannot end the way it was predicted,” Draven thundered.

  “The laws of the universe are greater than us,” the woman said. “Now, I will give you the silver bullet Isabella must use.”

  There was a pause. The floorboards creaked. Then there was the unmistakable scrape of wood as a drawer opened and closed.

  “Draven,” the woman said, “sending Isabella out of harm’s way and putting her life before your own shows you have learned what it means to be a merciful human being. But, as I said before, the dark forces must be convinced.”

  Draven remained silent.

  “Your mother would be proud of you at this very moment.”

  “I wouldn’t have changed without my wife,” he answered.

  Emotion quaked through Isabella.

  “Learning to love selflessly is part of the spirit cycle,” the woman said.

  “Well, the spirit cycle can go to hell as far as I am concerned,” Draven growled. “I just want to be with Isabella.”

  “Unfortunately you have no choice. The next full moon rises in two days. Isabella will kill you at your mother’s gravesite by the pond. Did you pass the spot today?”

  “Yes, it is still marked by a cross, but Isabella—”

  “She will certainly fight it, but she will kill you then kill herself. At that time, both curses will have come full circle.”

  The revelation that Draven had begged her to go to avoid fulfilling the amulet’s curse, made Isabella love him all over again. Desperation clogged her throat as she heard the woman’s voice again.

  “Here is the bullet.”

  “My life is nothing without Isabella by my side. I won’t let this happen,” Draven vowed. “I will find another way.”

  Before Draven could leave the wagon, Isabella took flight into the forest. As she retraced her steps through the maze of trees, she could hardly function. The conversation between Draven and the Gypsy woman repeated itself in her mind, pelting her with emotion.

  This is utter madness!

  She wiped away her tears and tried to think clearly. If only she had the bracelet of Amenhotep. But she wasn’t that lucky.

  Since nothing dire would happen until the next full moon rose two nights from now, Isabella decided to go to London to speak with Uncle Benjamin. It was a ten-hour journey each way, but it was plausible. Though she’d lost contact with Benjamin after her father’s disappearance, she remembered him as a gentle, honest figure—and she valued his advice a great deal.

  Would Uncle Benjamin think her mad? Or would he listen without criticism?

  Regardless, she would seek his counsel before coming back to Thorncliff Towers in time to stop the prophesized plan of execution.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  When Isabella arrived in London proper, the late-afternoon sun was giving way to the impatience of dusk.

  As she and Gwyneth climbed out of the post chaise, they blended into a stream of street vendors peddling their wares. Heavy fog rose from the harbor below London Bridge while scents from the rolling carts wafted beneath Isabella’s nose. Hot cross buns, baked apples, even the smell of syllabub enticed her empty stomach. But this was no time to think about food.

  While the masses hurried against the cold near the St. James coaching station, Gwyneth dragged Isabella’s heavy portmanteau down the street. Isabella tried to flag down a closed carriage without success. To add to her frustration, worry over Draven’s fate built inside her.

  Gwyneth, who had traded her flimsy cap and maid’s costume for a more fashionable bonnet and dress, looked equally frustrated. They had been standing by the roadside for nearly a quarter of an hour. The girl finally stuck two fingers in her mouth and blew an ear-piercing whistle. A closed carriage stopped with a jerk. Isabella and her maid hastened forward and were relieved when the driver handled their baggage.

  “Where to, Miss?” the burly man asked politely.

  Isabella retrieved the card her uncle had given Draven and recited the address to the driver.

  “Inns of Court. Right away, Miss.”

  The two women settled against the rear bench as the carriage rattled forward. Gwyneth started twisting a handkerchief nervously around her fingers and Isabella shot her a puzzled expression. “Is something wrong, Gwyneth?”

  “Oh, I ’ate to be difficult, m’lady, or speak out a’ turn, and I’ll certainly be happy to attend to ye anywhere—”

  “You’ve seemed uneasy ever since we left Thorncliff Towers. Please speak freely.” Isabella realized her tone was impatient, but she couldn’t help herself. She had too much on her mind.

  “Mrs. Tidwell said this mornin’ that I shouldn’t jeopardize me post . . .”

  Isabella waited for her to go on.

  “Well, my fiancé lives in Dunwich and considerin’ that we’re to marry come November, I was wonderin’—”

  “—how long I’ll be in London since you don’t intend to work for the Winthrop household after your wedding?” Isabella smiled.

  The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, thank ye fer understandin’, m’lady. Yer as kind as they come.”

  Isabella patted the girl’s hand. “Something tells me I shall be returning to the coast very soon.”

  Gwyneth wiped the moisture from her enormous blue eyes. “If it isn’t too bold, m’lady, can I speak about another matter?

  Isabella frowned. “Yes.”

  “It’s Master Draven. He’s the reason I’m leavin’ the house. He frightens us all.”

  No doubt the servants heard the Gypsy’s accusations during the ball.

  The girl’s stare housed genuine terror. “’Aven’t ye heard them, m’lady? Bays of a wolf comin’ from inside the manor ’ouse? From the master’s suites? Do ye really think he’s the black wolf?”

  Isabella looked away. She wished they had a dog so she could blame the sounds on the animal. But they possessed no pet and there had been no one else in her husband’s bedchamber at the time. “I’ve noticed the howls too, Gwyneth. And I’ve come to London to help his lordship.”

  The maid nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. We’re forced to lock our doors at night and—”

  It is a wonder there are any servants left at Thorncliff Towers, Isabella thought. “Gwyneth,” she said gently, “the last thing his lordship and I need is hysteria from the staff.”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  To Isabella’s relief, the girl remained silent for the remainder of the ride. In the meantime, she prayed that her uncle was still in his office at Britain’s Inns of Court at this late hour.

  The carriage finally bustled to a stop before a tree-lined square just south of Strand and Fleet Streets. Isabella looked up at a sign hovering from a gold chain: MR. BENJAMIN RAYBURN, ESQUIRE, ESTABLISHED BARRISTER.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she stepped into the haze of twilight. Instructing Gwyneth to wait, she left her valise with the twittering girl. When she pushed the door open, a delicate bell announced her arrival.

  “May I help you, Miss?” A young intern glanced up from his paperwork with irritation.

  “I’m Lady Draven Winthrop. I’m here to see Mr. Rayburn.”

  The young man’s expression didn’t change. He placed his quill on the desk and folded his hands neatly together. “Do you have an appointment, your ladyship?”


  “No, I don’t. I’m Mr. Rayburn’s niece. Well, I’m not actually his niece—”

  “Are you or are you not Mr. Rayburn’s niece, Lady Winthrop?”

  “Excellent tone, Nathaniel! Use it during your next cross-examination.”

  Isabella glanced over at the sound of the familiar voice. Grinning, Benjamin Rayburn stood up from his desk and circled round a small partition. “I taught that boy everything he knows.”

  A straight flagpole of a man, Uncle Ben was just as Isabella remembered. His bulbous nose hovered over a bushy mustache and his salt and pepper hair brushed the tops of his substantial ears. She smiled as she realized his witty, gray eyes still studied those around him with humility and grace.

  “I apologize, sir,” the intern said.

  “Quite all right, Nathaniel. But there is no need to interrogate this young woman. She is the closest thing to a niece I’ll ever have. Let me look at you, Isabella.” Although his words were kind, his expression was grave as he clasped her hands in his. “You’ve certainly grown into a lady of stature.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Benjamin. But you haven’t changed a bit.”

  “It’s wonderful to see you,” he said. Again a worried expression washed over his face.

  “Is something wrong?” Isabella asked.

  “I shall tell you shortly.” The barrister tipped her chin up with two fingers to analyze her countenance. “And you. Do I sense a dark cloud somewhere in your midst?”

  She couldn’t lie to him nor did she wish to. “Yes.”

  Benjamin withdrew a gold pocket watch from a tiny slip in his vest and glanced at it. “I think we’ve been at this long enough, Nathaniel. What do you say we close up shop? If you will lock up, I will escort this elegant lady to supper.”

  “Yes, sir,” the intern replied as his employer tossed him a small ring of keys. “Good night, sir. Good night, your ladyship.”

  After Isabella had sent Gwyneth ahead to Uncle Benjamin’s residence, Rayburn donned a fashionable beaver hat and strolled with her arm in arm until they reached a nearby pub. Benjamin seemed to be a regular patron at the establishment as he was greeted with exuberance. The pair was shown to a secluded booth in the back where they ordered the shepherd’s pie.

  Isabella settled against the soft leather pads of the booth and let out a sigh of exhaustion.

  “My dear,” Benjamin began, “you must tell me what is happening at Thorncliff Towers. I came to meet with your father several days ago. Do you have any idea why he wasn’t there to receive me?”

  “He was with me here in London.” She lowered her voice. “He mentioned nothing of your planned visit. Lately, I’ve been concerned about his behavior, Uncle Benjamin. He hasn’t seemed himself since the accident in Egypt. In fact, I’ve consulted an amnesia specialist about him.”

  Benjamin looked troubled. “And what did this specialist say?”

  “Nicholas Van Sant is a very reputable physician. He said my father’s irrational anger is perfectly normal. A great jar to the head can bring suppressed emotions to the surface. It can also stir sides of our personality we weren’t in touch with before. The doctor claims Papa’s loss of short-term memory is normal as well.”

  “Very interesting. You assume this is why your father forgot about my scheduled visit?”

  “Perhaps. Many things slip his mind lately. As I said, Papa seems to be a different person.”

  “I’m glad you have noticed,” Rayburn said, his gray eyes darkening. “But amnesia is not the reason your father seems so queer to you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Isabella’s forehead creased. “I don’t understand.”

  The barrister rested his elbows on the chipped table. “I’ve received some rather startling news, my dear. That is why I came to Thorncliff Towers.”

  “If you’re going to tell me that Uncle Morton isn’t in debtors’ prison, my husband has already informed me as much.”

  “I’m glad he relayed the news to you. But that is not what I was going to tell you.”

  “What then?” Her eyes widened.

  Overlapping his hands, he leaned forward on the table. “Isabella, they’ve unearthed your father’s remains in Egypt.”

  “What are you talking about? My father is alive!” The shrillness of her voice caused the other patrons to glance over.

  Benjamin looked sympathetic as he ignored the stares. “I’m afraid he’s not. Think about it. Morton is your father’s identical twin brother.”

  Isabella’s hand flew to her mouth. Benjamin continued as tears spilled down her cheeks in streams. “When your father resurfaced in Society, I expected him to contact me but he didn’t. Naturally, I deemed it strange after our long history of friendship and that’s when my suspicions began. I wrote to the second in command at Harris’s archaeological site. A Mr. Simon Collingsworth. Miraculously, Mr. Collingsworth managed to survive the terrible landslide and vowed at that point not only to repair the damage done to the Valley of the Pharaohs, but to restore it to a level beyond even what your father had managed to do before he disappeared.

  “I told him I would pay handsomely if he continued to search for your father’s body in the process. You see, something was telling me that your father was not who he seemed to be. After a long, arduous process, Collingsworth discovered your father’s remains.” He paused and clasped her hands with empathy. “Isabella, Harris’s skull was bashed in. The Egyptian authorities have deemed it foul play.”

  She struggled to make sense of what Benjamin was saying. “Papa was murdered before the landslide took place? I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true,” Rayburn conceded. “I told Collingsworth that I suspected Morton was involved. He wrote in his reply letter that Morton had talked your father into some antiquities dealings—to help finance his lengthy dig. Collingsworth discovered that these antiquities dealings were disreputable and unprofitable. I believe that Morton showed up in Egypt and that the two brothers argued. Morton killed Harris, set the landslide into motion, then seized the chance to become his twin. It was very easy for him. After all, he is a man with the coldest of hearts and the blackest of souls.”

  Isabella’s hands began to shake. “But why did Morton kill my father?”

  “Hasn’t Morton always been envious of Harris?” Rayburn asked.

  She nodded.

  “Envious to the point of obsession, in fact. Your father had everything Morton desired—fame, notoriety, a beautiful family. I know it is hard to fathom such a jealousy, but I think that overwhelming envy gave Morton reason to dedicate his life to destroying Harris.”

  Hot tears continued to sting Isabella’s face. “I can’t believe my father is dead.”

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news.”

  She accepted the handkerchief he offered and shook her head. “It’s no wonder I thought my father was acting strangely. His sudden outbursts seemed so uncharacteristic. Uncle Morton stole my amulet from me—the one Papa sent me from the Valley of the Pharaohs.”

  “I know why Morton took your amulet,” Rayburn said. “Collingsworth told me that during the conversation he overheard, Harris asked Morton to contact you. Your father wanted you to know that the amulet he sent you is very valuable after all.”

  “It can’t be—not without the bracelet of Amenhotep.”

  Without saying a word, Benjamin withdrew something from his greatcoat pocket. A circle of pure gold glittered in the light. He handed the infamous bracelet to Isabella with a smile.

  “My God,” she whispered.

  It was a heavy thing, inlayed with sparkling jewels and an intricate border design consisting of polished coral. Thicker than four inches, it opened by way of a hinged clamp. Her fingers trembled around it.

  “Be very careful with it, Isabella. Morton might know that Collingsworth discovered it among your father’s belongings. Out of respect for your father, he gave it to me to pass on to you. Of course, if Morton doesn’t know about the bracele
t’s discovery, he may be trying to get the amulet from you and return to Egypt in an attempt to unearth it. Together they are worth a fortune.”

  With her other hand, Isabella touched the coldness of the stone that dangled from her neck. The fact that these two pieces of jewelry were in her possession feathered her spine with a shiver. If I can get Amenhotep’s bracelet on Draven’s wrist, I could avoid killing him altogether .

  Rayburn studied her in the dim light. “This is what I think,” he said. “Under the guise of Harris, Morton planned to bring you to Thorncliff Towers, confiscate the amulet, and do away with all those involved so that he could profit from Draven’s money.” He paused. “Morton is a very dangerous man.”

  “I need to warn Helena and Draven that my father is an imposter,” Isabella said.

  Benjamin put his hand over hers. “Try and calm yourself, my dear. You shall stay here in London with Willa and me. After a few days, I will accompany you to the Winthrop estate and together we shall tell your husband and his mother. Then we will find and confront Morton.”

  Isabella’s thoughts flew to Draven’s daunting time-line. “Thank you, Uncle Benjamin, but there is an urgent reason I must return by tomorrow afternoon, at the very latest.”

  “What reason is that?”

  “I cannot tell you everything except that I’ve fallen in love with my own husband,” she answered in a soft tone.

  He smiled forlornly.

  “In being cruel earlier in his life, he has isolated himself from everyone. Now I’m all he has,” she said.

  “Very well then.” Rayburn finished the last drop of ale in his glass. “Since the last post chaise to the coast has already departed, you’ll stay the night at my home and make the journey back to Dunwich first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you so much, Uncle Benjamin.”

  “Of course, my dear. Before we take leave and get you home to Willa, tell me where Morton is.”

  “He’s here in London. With Fiona. He said he had no desire to return to Thorncliff Towers.”

  Rayburn seemed relieved. “Good. Since I’ll need time in the morning to round up the proper authorities, I will come to Dunwich shortly thereafter.”