“Dear God, he is mad,” she whispered. “Or he hates me. Or both. How in God’s name do I help him now?”
Chapter Twelve
Roderick was terrified.
He’d known almost since their return home that something was wrong. And it was getting worse. He was having difficulty telling dream from reality. He couldn’t remember things, like arranging to go for a walk with his wife, and instead of just apologizing, he hid it with shame and resentment, and heard all the nastiness and accusation spilling out of his mouth.
It was his worst nightmare, worse even than the terror of being buried alive again… Or perhaps that was part of it, too. He had lost control. And it wasn’t the first time. It had happened before, surely around the time Robert died.
There was a dreadful familiarity to all of this, and quite suddenly, as he stared at his wife, listening in horror to his voice berate her and hurt her, he knew what it was.
Opium.
He bolted from her. Very little was clear in his brain. The house, his cursed, beloved house seemed to be folding in on him, holding him in its prison when it was the worst place he could be. Its walls were tumbling, crumbling, threatening to bury him alive. And not just him, all the people left that he had to care for, that he loved.
Madeleine.
Danger lurked in every corner. From him, the master of the house, the laird of Usher. But not just him. Something was wrong, very wrong, and he must not be here to make it worse.
He was striding in circles around the hallway, his boots clattering on the stone, while he desperately tried to resolve his need to stay with the absolute necessity of going.
“Graham!”
He could not trust anything, anyone, least of all himself, but surely that was Graham’s rough voice, Graham’s profound, anxious gaze. And yes, that was definitely Graham’s firm, grip on his arm.
“Fetch me a horse, Graham,” he muttered. “You do it. I can’t be here anymore.”
His old soldier stared at him, his mouth already open to disobey. Then he nodded curtly and strode off in the direction of the stables. They were already outside, although he couldn’t remember crossing the threshold. But he was holding on to a few vital acts.
At least his body remembered how to mount a horse. Graham didn’t need to help him with that.
“Let me come with you,” Graham pleaded.
God knew there was temptation in the offer… “You can’t,” Roderick said firmly. It was very important the words matched what was in his head. “You have to stay here. Look after Madeleine. Protect her.” He reached down and gripped Graham’s shoulder. “Be safe until I return.”
He rode out of the courtyard and around the loch, sticking grimly to his plan of getting as far away as possible before anyone thought of looking for him. And before the pain set in.
He knew from experience he was in for a horrible few days.
He headed north into the hills that had been his childhood refuge, and he didn’t stop until he reached the cave. By then, the dusk was on the verge of darkness, but his mind was clearer, even if his body was shaking. He had the sense to lead his horse down the bank to the stream, where there was water and grass to crop, and yet he’d be hidden from the casual observer.
Only when he removed the saddle did he realize that Graham—wonderful Graham—had attached a full nosebag for the horse and a water flask. And saddle bags stuffed with bread, cheese, and apples. And a thick blanket.
He dragged it all inside the cave. Then he wrapped himself in the blanket and sat in the mouth of the cave, drinking water. He forced himself to eat a few mouthfuls of bread and cheese, and hoped it would stay down.
He lay down with his head just poking out the mouth of the cave, but as the pain set in with a vengeance, he barely noticed where his head was. But he had suffered worse, and he would endure.
Inevitably, he lost track of time. Day and night vanished in fevered dreams, shame, anguish, and bodily pain.
At various points, he fed the horse and collected fresh water from the stream. And slowly, his brain cleared and the pains lessened. There was, fortunately, little craving in his mind for the drug he had not taken voluntarily.
He may have imbibed the laudanum from the bottle—and a lot more besides—but he hadn’t chosen to. And as he paced up and down the stream and then, leading the horse, further into the hills, he analyzed everything that had happened, everything that had been said since he had met Madeleine. And he understood.
A little blindly, he stroked his horse’s nose. “Time to go home, my friend.”
“Where is he?” Madeleine asked Graham once again.
“I don’t know, ma’am,” Graham replied stolidly, as he had before. “But he will return.”
“When?”
“Can’t say, ma’am. He’s a bit of a law unto himself, as you know.”
“Graham.” She took a step closer. “I’m afraid for him. Please go to him, bring him home.”
“I can’t do that, ma’am.”
“And if I order you to?”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll dismiss you!”
“I still won’t go. I’ll sleep at the gate.”
“Damn you,” she whispered and walked away.
Fear for Roderick had been her constant companion for a week. It didn’t help that everyone else in the house was on edge, too. Meal times were fraught. Everyone told her Roderick would be back very soon, that he never stayed away for long without telling anyone. Which at least told her he had done it before. But no one else—except Daniel—knew about the empty laudanum bottle and the state he could be in without anyone to look after him.
Only Daniel seemed to share her need to bring him home.
“He’s probably gone to get more opium,” he told Madeleine. “I’ve been out asking questions in the village, but no one has seen him, let alone knows which direction he took.”
“Graham knows,” she said grimly, flopping into the sitting room chair where Roderick had so often sat. “He just won’t tell.”
Daniel sat opposite her, leaning forward to speak quietly so no one else could hear. “I wouldn’t trust that man further than I could throw him. He’s slavishly obedient to Usher, doesn’t consider anything but whatever orders he was given. Let’s hope none of these commands are dangerous.”
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m beginning to think the villagers are right, and the family really is cursed.” He hesitated, then, his whole face grimacing with worry, he said in a rush, “Maddy, if he killed his own brother, he could just as easily kill you, or have you killed.”
“Oh, nonsense, Daniel!” she said impatiently. She let out a bitter laugh. “For one thing, I’m his only route to an heir.”
“Not if you’re dead,” Daniel said deliberately. “Then, he would have a world of females to choose from. Not that he needs to go far. There she sits in the drawing room, already behaving like the lady of the manor.”
“Daniel, Sonya is not like that.” She drew in a breath. It wasn’t the first time he had made such a remark. “If you knew what she had been to our father…”
“Of course, I know she was our father’s mistress,” Daniel said scornfully. “She sold herself to get out of the poverty the war had brought her to, and now she’ll sell herself to be lady of Usher.”
“Sometimes I can’t bear to listen to you!” Madeleine exclaimed, jumping to her feet.
Daniel caught her hand. “No, you see the good in everyone,” he said grimly. “And look where it has brought you. The companionship of a woman little better than a whore. And marriage to a man like Roderick Usher.”
“Roderick is good,” she whispered, tearing herself free.
Desperately, she hung onto her belief in her husband and his redemption. It seemed to be all that kept her sane, for every hour since Roderick had left, she felt more and more isolated. James and Janet looked at her with blame in their eyes. She could not trust the
servants. She was even doubting Sonya, whose good character she had always believed in, simply because of the trauma she had come through in 1812, and from her subsequent devotion to her father who had taken her in. The deeper relationship had come later.
But as she left the sitting room, Madeleine thought of the times she had seen Roderick’s and Sonya’s heads bent together over a book, or an exchanged smile over some erudite jest. Small incidents she was sure meant nothing. Or had been sure until Daniel…
Well, she couldn’t even trust him.
She was alone. In this house which seemed increasingly malevolent. No doubt because she was afraid to leave it in case Roderick came home while she was out. But she imagined the stones whispering as she passed up the staircase and along the passages, hating the intruder, driving her insane as they had already done to Roderick.
Sometimes, she wished she were a lot less fanciful.
There was nothing to occupy her in her chamber, or in Roderick’s. She merely paced around them with no idea what to do with herself. She could not even seek Sonya out, with Daniel’s accusations ringing in her ears. She was bound to behave oddly.
What she really wanted was to go out and look for her husband. But she had no idea where to start, and even if she merely circled the estate in ever-expanding arcs, he was just as likely to come home and leave again before she could see him.
She prowled out of her chamber once more, down the narrow back stairs, which creaked. Her spine shivered, but when she glanced upward, there was no one there. There never was. It was just the house’s malevolence. Or her own stupid fears.
On the ground floor, she went to the kitchen to discuss dinner and then walked the long way back toward the drawing room. Sonya’s company was better than none.
However, Sonya was no longer in the drawing room. She was probably in the library. As she left, she glanced down the passage. Graham stood by the side door talking to one of the farmers. With nothing else to do, she walked toward them.
“What do you mean he isn’t here?” the farmer, MacDonald, demanded. “I saw him with my own eyes.”
Her heart lurched. “You saw whom?” she asked, speeding up to join them.
MacDonald touched his forehead in mechanical respect. “Himself. Mr. Usher.”
“When? Where?” she demanded.
“Up near the village, riding the chestnut horse. This morning. That’s why I came along to speak to him about the west field because he said—”
“Well he isn’t back yet,” Graham interrupted. “I’ll get him to come and see you when he is. Or call back tomorrow.”
Macdonald sighed, shrugged, and left again with a grudging nod to Madeleine.
Graham closed the door and met her gaze. His speculation seemed to mirror her own. But then, that nervous feeling of being watched overcame her once more and she whipped around. There was no one there.
“He won’t be long, ma’am,” Graham murmured. “Sounds like he’s on his way. Keep it to yourself, though, just in case MacDonald’s wrong.”
The lifting of her heart easily overcame her fears. If he was home, everything would be well in the end. Whatever the difficulties, they would succeed together.
“Looking stormy,” Graham observed as he made his way back to the kitchen.
Madeleine didn’t mind that either. He was coming home.
Roderick waited at the village inn until dusk. By then, the sky was distinctly ominous, and distant thunder echoed faintly about the hills, but he knew from watching the house and talking to the innkeeper that Madeleine was well and still there, as were his aunt and uncle, Sir Daniel Deare, and Sonya Kosara. And Graham.
It was time to face his adversary and make things right.
He rode down the hill at a fast trot, past the familiar houses, the blacksmith’s shop, the grocer’s, and then, the church. Here, he paused, frowning, as something caught his eye. The door at the side of the church, the one that led down to his family’s crypt, was open.
Why would it be open at this time?
For an instant, he hesitated between charging on to Usher House and investigating the crypt first. In the end, he couldn’t dislodge the fear that this had something to do with events at the house, and so he dismounted, tied the horse to the railings, and walked up the path to the church.
The main door opened to his touch, but was empty as he had expected. With the unease he would never be able to avoid, he approached the crypt door, and knew someone was down there. Someone was talking.
“…be silly. The only choice you have is whether I shoot you now or shut you up in here where no one will look for you, to die in your own time.”
His blood chilled the sweat on his skin. He was going to have to go down there. When Robert had been buried, he’d forced himself to go down and stand for a whole minute of respect. Even as he’d bolted back up the stairs, he’d known he could never go down there again.
But someone else was about to be murdered.
He forced his foot over the threshold, and then it was easy. After all, he’d lived in a cave for several nights. Here, at least, candlelight flickered.
Below him, a man laughed, a deep, sepulchral sound that echoed around the chamber below. “No, you don’t, Madeleine. Stand just where you are!”
Roderick bolted down the rest of the steps, three at a time, leaping from the bottom straight at the male figure in the overcoat.
But the man didn’t fight, merely swerved around him, and jumped up the first three steps.
Daniel Deare pointed a pistol at his heart and smiled. “So easy. So damnably easy. Did you really think I would march my sister here through the countryside and half the village where anyone could have seen us?”
Roderick, very aware of Deare’s finger on the trigger, held his gaze and shrugged. “I couldn’t take the chance.”
“Do you know, I really believe you love my silly little sister? How fitting then, that you both die on the same night. Another chapter in the Curse of the Ushers!”
“The last chapter, apparently,” Roderick said. “And so you will inherit my fortune through Madeleine’s will, and my house…once my aunt and uncle die. What a lot of effort you have gone to. Did you drug Madeleine, too?”
Deare’s lips curled. “I don’t need to. I have her jumping at her own shadow. Easy enough to make her jump off the tower like your poor brother.”
Roderick clenched his hand. “You are a greedy bastard.”
“And you a poor, mad opium addict. Interesting which of us comes out on top. Shall I give you the same choice I pretended to give Madeleine? Shall I shoot you? Or—er—bury you alive?”
He forced out a laugh, and God help him, he didn’t have to try very hard to make it an insane bellow.
“Bury me,” he instructed. “Where there’s life, there’s hope, eh, Deare?”
Deare laughed. “Saves me reloading for Madeleine.”
Roderick charged toward him, knocking over the candle that promptly went out. But Deare was already a silhouette at the top of the stairs, and then the door blocked out what was left of the light above. And the lock turned.
Oh, sweet Jesus…
There was no sound but his own panting breath, almost terrifying by itself in the darkness. Sheer instinctive fear paralyzed him.
“Madeleine,” he whispered. “Madeleine.”
It took him several precious minutes to calm his thundering heart and stop the shaking. Just to breathe. But with the vision of his wife before him, her beautiful face alight with love and laughter, he achieved it. He needed to do this. For her.
He paced slowly until he found the steps and oriented himself. Then he felt along the wall, over the stones that covered his ancestors, his parents, his brother, until he found the smooth one he sought. And pressed until it opened.
The darkness weighed on him like the bodies of his dead comrades. And now he needed to fit his body into a far narrower tunnel where he really would barely be able to breathe. But it was his only way out.
His only hope of saving Madeleine.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time dinner was over, Madeleine had begun to think MacDonald was wrong, and that it wasn’t her husband the man had seen at all. Then, as the long-expected storm clouds gathered over the loch, she was sure that neither darkness nor weather would put him off coming if he wished to do so.
Everyone else retired, leaving her alone in the summer drawing room with her gloomy thoughts.
Despite the distant thunder rumbling about the hills, the house was silent. And yet it seemed to loom over her, threatening…. Or was it warning? A sudden wind rushed down the chimney like a furious whisper.
The front door slammed, and she jumped to her feet, heart hammering. But it was only Daniel who strode into the room. There was excitement in his every, jaunty movement. His eyes sparkled, big with news.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “Where did you go after dinner?”
“Solving our problems,” he said happily, “And I believe I have. Come, I want to show you something.”
“What?” she asked reluctantly, following him through the door to the middle room.
He only smiled and strode on so quickly that she had to trot to keep up with him. With his finger to his lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief, he closed the sitting room door to the hall. And opened the door to the spiral staircase. “Come, you need to see this.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, intrigued in spite of herself. Was Roderick up there? In his old room, perhaps?
“To the roof,” he said, climbing on past the first floor to the big room above.
“In a storm? Why?”
“Because you won’t believe me unless you see it with your own eyes.”
Had he seen Roderick approaching? His excitement was contagious. She wanted to believe, and it didn’t matter that Roderick’s return was only likely to be the beginning of fresh problems. Now that she understood some of it, she could help solve them.
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