“Georgiana was so afraid for Henry. She quite loved him, you know, but it would never do. She had to pay for her sins. Her sins. It was quite easy….I told her that Dartmouth Hall would be a brilliant place to meet up with Lord Carlisle to discover the information she sought without Henry knowing.
“I knew about the priest’s hole because of Reginald and his young friends. They had found it exploring the ruins. One of Reginald’s young friends had crawled into it and Reginald had accidently closed him within. He had come to me. It had been easy to release the child, but I realized at the time it was fate. I knew what I had to do.
“I told Georgiana that Henry had discovered that she was to rendezvous with Lord Carlisle and he was out for blood. It did not take much to convince Georgiana to crawl up into the priest’s hole. Her last words were of you.”
Her aunt’s eyes glazed over. Her voice rose. “Do you know of the Furies? The goddesses of vengeance? The moment I read about them, I felt a connection. I understand their need for justice. The worst crimes have to be punished. There are laws to be followed and there has to be consequences when one doesn’t follow the laws set forth. The Gracious One has reaped her vengeance. Georgiana. Lady Sophia. Bessie and you, Harriet. You will also.”
Her eyes turned upward then towards Harriet, dark and hazed with growing hysteria. She glared at Harriet with fury raging in her eyes. “You have long escaped punishment. You were no better than your mother. Hussy! You forced me to turn to my father for help. It was his connections, you understand. Captain Waverly. Benjamin Padgett…but they both failed me…
“I told the captain. I said hold her only until I tell you it is clear. It is what I said. Did he listen….no! As soon as Lord Arthur married, I sent word…I told Captain Waverly—it’s time! It would have been so simple. No one…no one would have missed you then. Even if someone searched for you after that time, no one would have been able to find you…because you would have been gone for good!”
Emotion gripped her aunt. Her chest heaved heavily. Patting her chest, she calmed herself, but only slightly. She was reliving the moment. “I was not defeated. No…no. I had only to plan again. Padgett owed my father…fool! I laid out a scenario that would have served us both. Such weakness. It was his addiction, too, you understand. He hid it well, but it was there. He had only to be patient. I would have made certain he was paid handsomely for his service…
“He told me that our plan suited him…you suited him. He wanted to show his family he wasn’t the failure they believed. You would have given to him what he sought.” She laughed a cruel, malevolent laugh. “But he, too, treaded outside our agreement. He must have begun to suspect there was more to be had. It matters no more…they failed. Both. But now the judgment will be carried out!”
Harriet realized in that moment that there wasn’t a sane thought in her aunt’s head. The full sense of her aunt's actions sank deep into Harriet. It was horrible beyond measure. The diabolical woman stared at Harriet. Harriet saw it then, reflecting in the candlelight…her aunt gripped tightly to a handle of a knife she had taken from her skirt pocket.
Stunned by her aunt’s revelation of her intent, Harriet stepped back. Her aunt wanted her dead. Harriet wanted to cry out, but her throat went dry. Harriet tripped. Scrambling upward, she edged up against the wall. Her aunt eased closer.
“Don’t,” Harriet managed to utter. “It is over. There is no way you will be successful. They know it is you. Uncle Walter thought you only obsessed, but now all has been revealed; he will not cover for you anymore. You hurt his children. You destroyed his family...his brother.
"Bessie says it was you who encouraged her to lace Sophia's tea with laudanum..."
Her aunt laughed. "Bessie...the stupid girl...I tried to give her everything. She couldn't grasp what needed to be done…had to be done. The foolish one believed she was helping Sophia, giving her medicine."
Her aunt halted. Her eyes bore into Harriet's. "Do not look at me in that manner. You of all people shouldn't hold sympathy for Lady Sophia…arrogant, haughty. It was she who destroyed your life. Not I. If not for her, none of this could have come to pass."
"What do you mean?"
"Please, Harriet—she took what she wanted and she wanted Arthur. She cared little what she did to you. It was her. She confessed all to me. We understood each other well. We both gained from your disappearance."
"She gained Arthur and Bessie, Ewan," Harriet said her thoughts out loud. Then a horror sank into her. "Oh, my God, you...you planned for Bessie to become the Viscountess of Daneford!"
"It was only fitting...but the girl ruined it all. All the work I had done—she simply wanted to walk away. She wouldn't do what was necessary...after all my work to right all the wrongs."
"What wrongs, Aunt? She refused to do what?"
Her aunt moved towards Harriet. Harriet recoiled to the furthest corner. Her aunt lunged at her. Harriet grasped hold of her aunt's arms to keep her from plunging the knife into her.
A vision came. It hit her hard. Everything swirled around Harriet. She felt physically ill, fighting for consciousness. Her hold against her aunt loosened. The possessed woman saw her advantage. Pulling back the knife, she thrust downward.
Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, Harriet saw movement. Swift and sure, the mad woman was thrown to the floor. Before Harriet stood Arthur. Reaching down, he lifted her up. James raced over and picked up the knife that had fallen to the floor.
Arthur embraced Harriet, securing her in the safety of his arms. "It's over. She will never hurt another."
Harriet pushed back against him far enough to see her aunt huddle in the corner, her arms wrapped around her bended legs, muttering incoherent words.
"It was her, Arthur. Sophia didn't leap from the cliffs. She was pushed." Harriet pointed to her aunt. "Like she was pushed down the stairs by...that woman...that evil. Oh, Arthur, I saw...I saw."
Suddenly, coolness encompassed Harriet. Then the lamp blew out. The candle’s flame extinguished. The room lay in darkness. A wind howled, strong and harsh, encircling the room. The windows burst open.
Harriet gripped tightly to Arthur and buried her head in his shoulder. Glass shattered. A shrill scream emerged in the chaos, so loud, so bloody loud. Then as quickly as it emerged, it died and the room lay still.
Arthur released his hold of Harriet. Glancing around the room, she saw it was in shreds. Tables overturned, curtains ripped, the windows shattered… James stood and wiped himself off. Blood trickled down his face. Something had nicked his forehead.
“Tell me you weren’t harmed,” Arthur said, reaching for her, but Harriet did not answer. Instead, she shook him off and pointed to the middle of the room.
Her aunt laid motionless, sprawled back on the floor with her face staring upward. Her hair, loosened, had altered color to an unnatural frosty white, but it was her eyes…her eyes opened wide with fright. Her aunt was dead…
Epilogue
Arthur rode his horse up a steep hill. He reined in his horse before a scene of breathtaking beauty. The years had not changed the scene before him. Ayercombe Manor rose beyond the cliffs in all its glory. He took comfort in the sight.
It was over. The veil of evil had been lifted, or so it had been whispered. Arthur had not allowed the talk of ghosts and curses to be uttered on his estate. The order did little to stop the rampant spread of the legend now surrounding Dartmouth Hall. To Arthur, though, the evil had been flesh and blood. It had a name and she, Constance Palfrey Burke, was dead.
In the two years since that fateful night, the story had been told many times. He held no doubt it would be told many more. The truth be known, he had no explanation for Harriet’s knowledge. It mattered little to him. Only Harriet mattered to him. He comprehended that though the locals may hold his wife in esteem, the world may not be so kind. He had no desire for Harriet to be thought strange.
Arthur chose to concentrate upon the details of the events. In so doing, he had been hor
rified to learn the lengths that had been taken. Without question, the woman had been mad. The woman, though, had been quite clever in her actions.
Silently in the background, she maneuvered the situations to her advantage. Despite Constance Burke’s contention that she was driven by the need to revenge the wrongs done…he gave no credence to the Furies or the need for revenge to be inflicted. To Arthur it was simply jealousy, greed, and envy.
Growing up on the verge of the world she wanted so desperately to be a part, Arthur imagined hatred flared within her soul. Lamenting her mother’s fall out of grace with Society for her marriage to a mere sea captain…her—a descendant of a great queen! Not only to be left desolate by her father, but to survive, she had been forced to become a headmistress at her mother’s school and wait upon the daughters of the Society who shunned her admittance…until she met Walter Burke.
Sir Walter Burke admitted his wife’s aggravation upon arriving at Beebe Manor after their marriage. She had not expected Georgiana Burke to overshadow her…a mere commoner. Georgiana had all that Constance did not: wealth and love. It had been common knowledge that Major Burke well loved his wife. Arthur could well envision Constance’s jealousy when Lord Carlisle appeared and desired Georgiana also.
Was it then that something snapped in Constance Palfrey Burke to create a monster? Or did she always have it within her? Arthur couldn’t answer that question, but she had become a monster, leaving Georgiana Burke to die a horrible death…and then left her family…her daughter…to believe she deserted them.
Arthur believed he had been the cause of the woman turning her fury upon Harriet. For so long, Harriet had been under her aunt’s control. How it must have angered Constance when Arthur offered Harriet all that she had sought for Clarissa and Bessie…
Arthur wondered whether his grandfather realized what he unleashed when he presented his conspiracy to the Burkes. Constance must have relished the circumstances that brought Lord Daneford to her door! She did not waste her opportunity, but used it to her full advantage.
It was Constance who suggested her cousin’s home for Harriet to disappear. Sir Burke acknowledged that Constance assured Arthur’s grandfather that Harriet would not be an issue. After sending Harriet to her cousin’s, she informed his grandfather that Harriet, believing Arthur dead, had found another lover.
Sir Burke argued, though, he had never considered his wife’s actions would ever physically harm another. He claimed no knowledge of his wife’s intent. He had been devastated when it was discovered that she had manipulated him as well. For years, he believed his son had gambled away money from the estate. Instead, Constance had used Reginald’s weakness against him, feeding his drunken habit.
Constance pinched off the money and hid it for her own use. Never again would she be dependent upon a man for her needs. In turn, she convinced Reginald she was helping him by enabling his habit and keeping him under her control. It worsened when Padgett came into the picture and introduced Reginald to the power of opium.
Arthur used Layton to uncover Padgett’s past. The façade of being a gentleman quickly faded upon the investigation. It seemed the man had long been the middleman between smugglers and merchants.
Constance reached out to Padgett when she learned of Harriet’s appearance in London from…Bessie. The poor thing had been trapped by her mother as the go-between in the devious caper.
For his part, it seemed Padgett had intended to marry Harriet. Constance supported his business venture on the condition of his marriage. Constance would have her revenge on Harriet. Arthur doubted it would have been long after the marriage that Padgett’s illegal dealings would have soon been leaked to the authorities. Harriet would have been disgraced. Moreover, Arthur suspected Constance would never have relented on Harriet…not until Harriet’s demise. The woman had been quite delusional.
With forbearance and patience, Constance watched her scheme unfold like the scenes of a play. Taunting Sophia with the loss of her baby and the knowledge that not only did Arthur love only Harriet, Harriet had delivered a healthy child, Constance drove Sophia to the brink of madness. Feeding her dependence upon laudanum, Sophia was a puppet on a string.
But Constance hadn’t counted on Harriet thwarting her plans. Everything around Constance began to unravel. She was losing control. Constance had told Bessie what to say when Sophia leaped from the cliffs. She convinced Bessie it would be for the best if Bessie said she saw Sophia leap, but Bessie began to question events. Bessie even pressed her stepmother about the disappearance of Sophia’s maid. Moreover, Bessie wasn’t satisfied with the answers.
When the naïve Bessie began to question her stepmother’s motives, pressure mounted, especially when word filtered in of Padgett’s disappearance. Constance saw no other way but to silence Bessie. In the end, it had been Constance who had been silenced.
Arthur supposed a veil had been lifted, for he felt a sense of freedom…freedom to love Harriet, freedom to enjoy his children…
His thoughts turned to his newborn and wife. Once more, his London Season had been cut short. Harriet insisted upon giving birth here at Ayercombe Manor. She had only hours earlier, a boy, Francis Alexander Hammett, named after his father. Simply perfect.
Never had his emotions run so high as the moment he was handed his son. He had gazed over at Harriet, tired and exhausted, but happy, ever so happy. Somehow, Victoria had slipped in beside her mother and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. Harriet wrapped her arms about her daughter. He had everything he wanted in front of him and his heart swelled.
Afterwards, Miss Blake retrieved Victoria, while Harriet rested and the baby slept. Sleep that Arthur couldn’t find. So he rode in the early morning air…here…for this view of his home…their home. He basked in the moment. Thankful beyond words for all that he had.
* * * *
Harriet walked down the path from the church to the cemetery. She glanced back at her husband and smiled. He stood in conversation with the vicar and James, who had come down for little Francis’ christening last week. The manor still brimmed over with guests.
Aunt Eleanor and Lady Carlisle, Harriet had expected to stay for an indefinite visit, but her grandmother surprised her by staying on at the manor. Her grandmother did not often leave her grandfather, whose condition had steadily deteriorated. To stay for an extended period touched Harriet deeply.
Her grandmother was a hard person to read. She said little and sat quietly in the background most times. Only twice had Harriet seen her grandmother show any emotion. Once over the news of Georgiana’s murder; the other when Harriet asked about her brother.
Harriet pressed her grandmother until she confirmed that her daughter had had an indiscretion in which a child was born.
“It was handled with the most utmost secrecy. All I was told it was a male child. It broke Georgiana’s heart. It was then she changed. Until that moment, she had been given her heart’s desire and thought nothing of her behavior.
“Her father spoilt her. She hurt him greatly when she told him she was with child. He became bitterly disappointed with Georgiana. We had thought she had finally found happiness with your father.
“Sadly, because of her past behavior, we didn’t question her disappearance. I thought…I thought she ran off because she thought we would turn our backs on her…it is a regret.”
A regret perhaps, Harriet supposed, though the knowledge of Georgiana’s death in a sense liberated those loved by Georgiana. The past could not be undone, but Harriet felt she had been given a gift—she had been given her mother back, as her grandmother had been given her daughter.
Her mother hadn’t abandoned her, but loved her. In that, Harriet, as well as her grandmother, found acceptance.
Harriet had never told anyone of her suspicion that James was that child...that he was her brother—not even Arthur. She couldn’t. She resisted the temptation of proclaiming he was the son of a love affair between Meriwether Carlisle and her mother.
First and foremost, she had no proof. She seriously doubted many would pay much mind to the ramblings of a vision, except James would. Being the honorable man he was, James would question and press his uncle.
She wanted so much to question His Grace to see if her vision had been correct—that Meriwether Carlisle gave his son to his brother and wife to raise as their own. Though she suspected it might be more to the story.
Arthur had told her that James’ parents had been killed in a freak carriage accident. James miraculously survived. Harriet wondered whether it hadn’t been James in the carriage…that the other babe didn’t survive…that somehow, someway Meriwether switched his son in his nephew’s stead…
If true, Harriet did not fault the man for his actions. He gave to his son his name, if by way of his dead brother. Had she not taken elaborate measures to protect her own child? Meriwether had no way of knowing that fate would step in and have James stand heir presumptive to his uncle’s title.
Questioning James’ birth would serve no purpose, only a selfish need to claim him as her brother. There had been too much scandal. She had no wish to bring more to the House of Carlisle. The decision made long ago would go unchallenged.
His Grace, the Duke of Torridge, had steadfastly stood beside his former son-in-law. He, too, felt a release on the knowledge that Sophia had not taken her own life. In a strange way, the events of the past bonded the two families.
On Harriet’s first Season, the Torridges gave a welcome ball upon Harriet’s entrance into Society, ensuring her success. Harriet was under no illusions. There were whispers. It was inevitable. Too much had happened for there not to be rumors, but in time, Harriet realized, they would fade.
On the eve of the Torridges’ ball, Harriet finally discovered how her mother’s ring came into possession of Priscilla Hammett, Arthur’s mother. The information came from Lady Torridge, who noticed the ring on Harriet’s hand.
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