The Reclusive Earl

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Given the extent of her injuries, her mother had been so overcome with guilt over the way she had treated her that she finally stopped hitting her. And that was when Opal decided to pretend she had lost her sanity. After that, her mother had never harmed her again.

  Was Opal losing her mind because she’d lied to her mother? Was this a matter of getting what she’d deserved? Lying was wrong. She’d known it was wrong. But she’d done it anyway. Maybe these things had a way of coming back to haunt someone when they least expected it.

  She heard a knock at the door connecting her bedchamber with Landon’s. She stiffened. After a tentative moment, she turned her gaze to the door. Was someone really there, or was she imagining it?

  She opened her mouth to ask who was on the other side, but then she shut it. She should ignore it. It probably wasn’t really happening. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from the door.

  If she waited long enough, it would stop. All she had to do was remind herself that it wasn’t real. Maybe if she didn’t give into the belief it was happening, she would be able to get a handle on things.

  It’s not real. It’s not real.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  She swallowed and took a deep breath. It’s not real. It’s not real.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  She gripped the blanket. It’s not real. It’s not real.

  The door creaked open.

  She squeezed her eyes shut tight. It’s not real. It’s not real.

  “Opal,” came a whisper.

  Her eyes flew open, and she looked at the doorway. In a ghostly pallor stood Byron. She let out a startled cry and bolted up in the bed, her heart pounding.

  “Why don’t you visit me?” he whispered.

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. It can’t be real. It can’t be real.

  “Opal,” he whispered again, this time sounding closer.

  She dared to open her eyes and saw that he was halfway in the room.

  “Don’t you know I get lonely at the estate?” he whispered.

  “You’re not real.” She clutched the blanket to her chest, tears filling her eyes. “I’m only imagining you.” Her voice cracked on the last of the sentence.

  “I need you to leave London,” he whispered, extending his hand toward her. “Come visit me.”

  She bolted out of the bed and ran for the small room off to the side of her bedchamber. She slammed the door behind her and locked it. Then to make sure Byron wasn’t going to come in, she grabbed a chair and propped it against the door so that no one could enter the room. She retreated to the corner of the room and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest.

  A ghost. Not once in her life had she ever seen a ghost. She hadn’t even pretended to see a ghost while her mother and Byron had been alive.

  It’s all in my mind. It’s all in my mind. None of it’s real.

  Trembling, she wiped her tears away and stared at the door, wondering if the apparition would pass through the door.

  Was this whole thing about Byron? Was it possible she felt guilty for the fact that she didn’t miss him? Was that why she imagined the missive from him?

  Her mother had been cruel to her, but Byron hadn’t been. Granted, he wasn’t the noblest of brothers. He’d been hoping to pawn her off on a wealthy gentleman when she was old enough to have a Season even though he had believed her to be insane. But he never hit her. When they were younger, he had even protected her from their mother’s wrath.

  Maybe she imagined the missive he’d written, the paintings of the graveyard and the ghost, and his ghost because she thought she needed to visit his grave. To atone for her lack of sympathy over his death. Maybe once she went to the cemetery at her brother’s estate, all of the things she was imagining would go away.

  Gulping, she pushed the strands of hair from her face and waited to see what would happen next.

  Nothing. All was silent from the other side of the door. No strange knocks. No whispers.

  The only sound she could hear was her shaky breath. She didn’t dare move from her spot. Now that everything had stopped, she was afraid if she got up, it would all start again. So she remained right where she was. At least for now, she was safe.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Landon stepped into the entryway, still baffled by the morning’s events. Something suspicious was going on. That much he knew. He just didn’t know how to figure out what was behind it all.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, my lord?” his footman asked.

  “No,” Landon replied. “I’m fine.”

  Landon went down the hallway and checked the drawing room. When he didn’t see Opal, he went to the den. Sometimes she liked to take a book from there, and since she’d said she’d just finished a book, he thought she might have gotten restless and wanted to read another one. But she wasn’t there, either.

  She wouldn’t go to the servants’ areas, so the only place he could think she might be was in her bedchamber, though she’d made it a point to avoid going there without him. Maybe she was with her lady’s maid. She could have already eaten something and then went upstairs to change her clothes. Ladies changed their clothing a lot in London. But then, so did some gentlemen.

  He reached the bedchamber and saw that her door was open. Crossing the threshold, he scanned the room but didn’t see her. He did, however, notice that the blanket was bunched up to one side of the bed, proof she had been lying down recently. Upon further examination, he saw that she had placed one of his books on the vanity.

  He went into his bedchamber, to see if she was there, but again, he didn’t see her. Eyebrows furrowed, he returned to her bedchamber. Upon his second inspection, he realized the door to the small room off to the side of her room was closed.

  He went up to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He knocked on the door. “Opal? Are you in there?”

  A moment later, he heard a chair scraping across the floor. After a moment, the door opened a crack, and he saw Opal peeking at him. “Is it really you, Landon?”

  What an odd question. Couldn’t she tell it was him by looking at him?

  He nodded. “I’m Landon.”

  She opened the door, and in the next moment, she was clinging to him.

  “What ith going on?” he asked in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her. “Did thomeone hurt you?”

  She shook her head but started to cry.

  He didn’t know what to think. This day was only getting stranger by the minute. He cupped her face in his hands and lifted it so he could get a good look at her. She was scared. But scared of what?

  “Opal, what’th going on?” he asked again.

  “I’m afraid to tell you,” she replied.

  Letting go of her face, he hurried to retrieve a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. While she wiped her eyes, he put his arm around her shoulders and led her over to the bed. He sat down beside her, and still keeping his arm around her, he gently pressed, “If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.”

  She shook her head. “None of it’s real. No one ever sees or hears the same things I do.”

  “Are you talking about the inkwell?”

  “It’s more than the inkwell. It’s the books. It’s the paintings. It’s the knocking. It’s the comb. It’s doors opening on their own. It’s hearing a strange sound in the hallway. It’s seeing the ghost of my dead brother.”

  His mind struggled to process everything she was telling him, but it was the last comment that startled him. “Dead brother?”

  “I’m imagining everything,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard his question. “I know I am. None of it’s really happening, but willing it to go away isn’t working. I see and hear things even if I don’t want to, and I think it’s because I feel guilty for not missing my brother.” She wiped her tears again with the handkerchief. “I don’t like thinking about my past. I just want to enjoy what I have now. When I left Warren’s estate, I had hoped
to put everything behind me, but it seems that ever since I found out I’m expecting a child, my past is all I can think about. None of this started until then.”

  “You think you’re being haunted by what happened back then?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. It all started with the nightmares about my mother. She was a horrible person.” With a sniff, Opal continued, “She hated me because I wasn’t a boy. Because I wasn’t a boy, I couldn’t inherit my father’s title in case something happened to Warren or Byron. Warren had a different mother. He’s only my half-brother. But after Warren’s mother died, Warren’s father married my mother. And she had Byron and then me. My father took a mistress soon after I was born, and I think she blamed me for that.”

  Opal cleared her throat. “Anyway, she took her anger out on me. When I was thirteen, that all changed because I started to act like I was seeing and hearing things that weren’t really there. It was the only way I got her to stop hurting me. Except now, I really am seeing and hearing things that aren’t really there.” Her voice wavered.

  Landon shushed her. He’d heard enough. He didn’t have to know every detail in order to get an idea of what her life had been like. It was no wonder why she didn’t want to tell him about it.

  “My mother and Byron died two years ago,” Opal continued. “My mother fell down the stairs, and Byron died from poison. I think Mother killed him. They didn’t get along, and they had been fighting more than usual earlier that day. Warren happened to be there when it happened, and after he arranged for their burials, he took me to live here in London. After finding out I’m with child, I only dreamt of my mother, but it was Byron that I saw coming into this room today.” She gestured to the door separating their bedchambers. “He came in from your bedchamber and told me he wants me to go back to the estate.”

  “If he died, then he can’t do that,” Landon softly told her.

  More tears filled her eyes. “I know that. But earlier this morning, I imagined paintings of a graveyard and a ghost in your den, and after that, I imagined him coming into this room and talking to me. He was pale like a ghost is supposed to be. I knew he wasn’t there, but I couldn’t will him away, so I hid in the room you found me in.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to make everything stop, and it’s only getting worse.”

  He held her while she continued to cry, not sure if there was anything he could say or do to make her feel better. She was definitely scared. She believed she was seeing and hearing things that weren’t there. He recalled the day she thought he’d moved the horse inkwell to the window, and he remembered her asking if he’d switched his books around after he had organized them according to title. But the other things she’d mentioned just now were new to him. She probably hadn’t told him because she was afraid of how he’d respond.

  So what should he do? How could he help her? What did she need from him?

  “Do you think you could still love me even if I’m losing my mind?” she asked. “Do you think I can still be a mother to our child?”

  Surprised by the question, he said, “Opal, I’ll love you no matter what, and you’ll make a wonderful mother.” Then, hoping to further reassure her that he would never stop loving her, he kissed her and rubbed her back. “Every day of our marriage, I’ve gotten to love you more and more. Nothing will change that. And I know you’ll love our child jutht like you love me. But,” he hurried to add when she brushed more tears away, “I’m not convinced you’re lothing your mind. You don’t imagine anything when I’m with you.”

  “It happened when Miss Kesner and the maid were with me today. When Miss Kesner was helping me get ready for the day, there was a knock at your door. She didn’t hear it, but she went to answer it because I asked her to, and she didn’t see anyone there. I didn’t, either, when I checked. She shut the door, and then the door opened all by itself. She didn’t see it open. Only I did.”

  She shivered, and he brought her closer to him. “And the maid?” he asked.

  “I was in the den looking for a book to read to occupy my time until you returned, and there were two horrible paintings on the wall. One was of a graveyard and the other was of a ghost.” She sniffed and brushed a few stray strands from her face. “Then I heard someone whispering my name, but no one was in the room. The voice then told me to read the missive that was pinned to one of the paintings.”

  “Did you read it?” he gently prompted when she didn’t continue.

  She nodded. “It was Byron’s handwriting. He told me he’s lonely and he wants me to go back to the estate. It was the same thing I imagined his ghost saying when he was in this room.”

  Her voice wavered once more. “Take your time.” He rubbed her back, hoping to help soothe her, and it seemed to work since she was soon able to regain her composure.

  She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “The maid came into the den. She said I summoned her, but I don’t remember going to the cord on the wall. She said when she got there, I was talking to Byron. She didn’t see the missive in my hand. She didn’t see the paintings of the graveyard or the ghost. So I really am imagining everything that’s been happening around here. It’s just a matter of time before I imagine something while you’re with me.”

  He watched as she shed more tears into the handkerchief. Though she’d made a convincing argument, he still couldn’t believe it. It didn’t seem like something that was really happening. Something about all of it seemed like there was something else going on. Much like the lad sending him to his brother’s residence that morning, this was a puzzle that needed to be put together.

  “Would you be willing to go to the country?” she asked. “I think it might be better if I’m not in London for a while.”

  “What about Warren and Irith? Or your friend Ava?”

  “I don’t want them to know what’s happening. It’d be embarrassing.”

  He hesitated to tell her that he didn’t believe there was anything wrong with her because he had no proof. Without proof, she wouldn’t be reassured. At the moment, what she needed was someone she could confide in, someone she could trust. And she had chosen him. It had taken a lot of courage to tell him everything.

  Given how self-conscious he was about his lisp, he could understand why she wasn’t eager to tell Warren, Iris, or Ava what she believed was happening. She didn’t want them to look at her with pity. They would never make fun of her. They loved her. But they might pity her condition, much like his parents had. As much as they loved him, they had wished Guy had been born first because Guy could speak eloquently.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised her. “It’ll be between you and me. And we’ll go to the country. I want to do whatever I can to make you feel comfortable and protected. You have no need to fear that I’ll ever turn my back on you.”

  She looked up from the handkerchief, and though more tears filled her eyes, he could tell she was relieved.

  He rubbed her back. “I love you, Opal. Nothing will ever change that. And maybe while in the country, you’ll feel more like your old thelf.”

  At least in the country, they would know for sure if she was losing her mind or if something else was going on. If Miss Kesner and the maid claimed nothing had happened while she was seeing and hearing suspicious things, logic suggested that they had something to do with it. But why?

  “We’ll leave in a couple of dayth,” he told her, thinking it might buy him enough time to find out for sure whether or not Miss Kesner or the maid were involved. “Would you like to vithit your family and friend before we leave?”

  “Yes. It would be nice to see them. Can we tell them we’re going because we’d like to spend some time alone in the country?”

  He’d already promised he wouldn’t tell anyone about her fears, but he suspected it was her embarrassment over her condition that prompted her to remind him. He kissed her and smiled. “We’ll tell them we want to be alone for a while. When you’re ready to return, we will. If you don’t want
to return, we won’t.”

  She hugged him. “Thank you, Landon.”

  He hugged her in return. Somehow, someway, he was going to get to the bottom of this. The question was how.

  Chapter Twenty

  That night, Opal held Landon as he made love to her. She had worried that he wouldn’t want to make love to her after she told him everything she was imagining. Yes, he had assured her he still loved her, and he was still affectionate with her. When she grew tired, he held her in his arms while she took a nap, and when she woke up, he had kissed her and suggested they get out of the townhouse for a while.

  Once he changed clothes, she summoned Miss Kesner. He insisted on staying nearby while Miss Kesner helped her dress and style her hair. He hadn’t lingered right by her. He had chosen to stay in the small room off the side of her bedchamber, and since he left the door open, he was able to hear and see everything that happened. She didn’t know if she was going to imagine anything, but to her relief, she perceived nothing unusual.

  Afterwards, they went for a stroll through Hyde Park and then visited the menagerie. He did all of this to take her mind off of her worries, she knew, and she thought it was sweet of him to do that. But the fact that he took her to bed shortly after dinner and made love to her meant everything to her. He still desired her as a lady. He still thought of her as his wife. And it made her feel normal.

  Because he was treating her the same way he had since they married, she had no doubt he would let her be a mother to their child…at least as much as she was able to be one. If her condition worsened, she would be limited in how much she would be able to do, but she would have a role in her child’s life, and that made her happy.

  It wasn’t until she thought she might not get to have a role in her child’s life that she realized how important it was she do everything she could to be a good mother. Which proved she wasn’t going to be like her mother. She was going to be like Iris and Virginia. And she would have Landon to help her, just in case she needed it.