“They’ve all gone mad, the fools! A slew of them passed not an hour ago, to be sure!”
“Calm yerself, mah hen, an’ speak plainly,” Admiral Robertson soothed, slipping into his native tones as he hugged his wife and patted her arm. “Now, what are ye blatherin’?”
“Watch yer tongue, ye old barnacle,” Lady Robertson sniffed and swatted at her husband, though made no move to dislodge herself from his embrace.
Daniel surveyed the scene, caught somewhere between concern and amusement.
“I told you,” the admiral’s wife continued, “a group of folk from town, they went by on the road to Dailemor, grumblin’ fit to make the horses shy. I’m worried about Lily and her niece.”
A wrenching pain took up in Daniel’s gut, threatening to double him over and compressing his lungs.
“Have you sent for the magistrate?” The admiral asked, concern furrowing his brow.
“Yes, of course, but at this time of night, it will take a good while to get him out there. His home is clear on the other side of the village.”
The admiral nodded.
“Sir,” Daniel interjected, grinding his teeth against a sharp twisting in his chest. “May I borrow a horse and continue directly?”
During their coach ride the admiral explained to him the newest complication in this land dispute, a rapid spread of rumors concerning witchcraft and aimed at Lily and Lenore. Though he couldn’t see how anyone could believe such things in this day and age, he shuddered to think what the townsfolk might be capable of if they adhered to such thoughts.
“Of course,” Robertson nodded his assent. “And I’ll go with you. Kate, have one of the footmen fetch the pistol case out of my study.” His wife’s eyes rounded, but she complied and hurried back into the house to carry out his request.
Daniel looked over at him. “Is that really necessary?”
“We’re going to hope not,” he assured him, “but as I’m sure you know in these cases when people latch onto a wild idea and fan it into flame, it’s always best to do what one can to look most intimidating and authoritative.”
Daniel didn’t like the sound of that but said nothing as he nodded and watched the approach a footman with a set of dueling pistols. The admiral reached into the case and inspected the weapons, handing one over to Daniel. By this time, the horses stood ready and one of the stable boys led them over. Another footman brought them each a lantern.
They set out a moment later, the admiral’s wife silhouetted against the front window in a silent wave. The distance between the two estates, not far by any means, stretched like an eternal black ocean in front of Daniel. Thoughts flying in advance to Lenore, he envisioned her alone and unprotected in that lumbering estate. Dozens of potential entry points spanned the building, and if someone surprised her... He swallowed down the illness threatening, making a lover’s reckless and impossible vow never to leave her side again.
An eternity later, they neared the MacAllister estate. As Daniel crested over the hill which had shone so bright with inviting color and fragrance when he first arrived, all he could see were shadows layered upon shadows, the outline of the MacAllister home rising up against the shimmer of the sea. The pale orange glow of candles lit several windows, creating a ghoulish countenance akin to those carved into turnips in late autumn.
Crowding about the entrance to the home, haloed in the red haze of torch flames, stood a small gathering of people, their angry posture and shouts discernible even in the distance remaining between them and Daniel. He dug his heels into his horse’s sides, urging the animal on in the hopes of closing the final distance quickly.
As he approached, individual figures became recognizable in the crowd, as well as the differentiation of voices as yet unclear. While he couldn’t make out the words themselves, his ears deciphered easily enough the tone, and it was not a friendly one. Looking up to the front door, his heart momentarily froze as he took in the sight of a proud, golden haired woman standing atop the steps, head raised high, and wielding a pistol with the dead calm of someone who knew how to use it.
He didn’t slow as he approached the crowd, instead bearing down on them and forcing any unfortunate stragglers barring his way to leap to the side as his horse thundered past along the gravel drive. He didn’t pull in his reins until he reached the front steps of the manor and took up a post as barrier between the crowd and the woman he now recognized as Lily Dubois. He halted his mount with a harsh movement, the animal letting out a squeal of discontent as its hooves dug into the gravel and slid before coming to a stop. Daniel turned the full force of his fear-fueled anger on the crowd, a sea of faces he didn’t know and could not sympathize with.
“What’s the meaning of this?” He demanded.
“The group, previously bold in their taunts and their encroachment upon the MacAllister estate, paused in their forward movement and began turning questioning looks upon one another.
“I asked, what’s the meaning of this?” Daniel reiterated, his voice booming over the heads of the small gathering.
One man, either the designated leader of the group or simply braver than the rest, stepped forward. “These MacAllister women are witches, an’ we willnae stand fur them in our village.”
“Witches?” Daniel sneered. “Are you all so simple-minded you would believe such a thing?
The first man’s confidence wavered in the face of this blatant rebuke, but another voice picked up from the crowd, one whose corresponding owner Daniel wasn’t able to puzzle out. “It’s true! Frae th’ time they first came here. Their foremother bewitched one ay our local folk an’ all th’ rest ay them hae th’ same ability!
“That accusation fell flat decades ago,” Daniel thundered. “Precisely because of its invalidity. What proof have you of any of this?”
The group wavered again, shifting in small restless movements, one looking to the other until Daniel dared hope the event might diffuse. Unfortunately, a new voice rang out. “He wouldnae ken anythin’ about it! He’s an Englishman, an’ mad tae boot!”
A round of affirmative shouts followed this declaration and the crowd surged forward. Daniel pressed his lips together and raised his pistol. Tyrsdale apparently wasted no time in adding Daniel’s afflictions to the gossip pot.
Another horse drew alongside him, the admiral, his weapon also raised. “I’m no Englishman, and if you mean to continue this foolishness, you’ll have both of us to deal with.”
A hammer click sounded to Daniel’s other side and from the corner of his eye he noted Lily climb onto the stone parapet beside the entryway.
“’At’s enough, all ay ye!” The loud crunch of hooves on gravel heralded the arrival of the magistrate amid the uneasy standoff. The man rode up between the opposing sides, Daniel, Admiral Robertson and Lily all lowering their weapons. “Which one ay ye has th’ nerve tae tell me how tae dae mah job?”
“This has nothin’ tae dae wi’ ye, Angus.”
“Och, nae? Aam th’ one in these parts who acts as law keeper, arenae Ah? An’ didnae Ah say these women hae tae prove their claim?”
The crowd grumbled.
Angus dismounted his horse and held up a hefty iron key. “Any ay ye want mah job, ye can tak’ this gaol key out ay mah hand.” He closed a beefy fist around the key and brought both fists up, widening his stance. Daniel blinked, certain the crowd would surge forward again, but to his amazement they wavered and one by one began turning about.
As the last townsman faded into the dark, Angus retook his seat and pointed his horse back in the direction he came from, looking to Lily. “Ye prove yer claim, an’ Aam havin’ a copy ay the judgment made fur every blasted house in th’ county.” Prodding his horse into motion, he joined the line of receding figures headed back into town.
Unable to restrain his curiosity, Daniel leaned toward the Admiral. “How did he manage that?”
“How do you think he got his job?” The admiral chuckled. “Meanest drunk in the living memory of this p
lace, county boxing champion by the time he was seventeen.”
Chapter 15
Hands trembling against the cold steel of the rifle, Lenore glued her eyes to the front entry. She and Lily had turned over a console as a makeshift barricade before her aunt marched outside with orders to shoot anyone other than her who might enter.
Swallowing down her building terror, she commanded her lungs to expand, cursing the fact she never harbored an interest in marksmanship. Her family introduced the skill to her at some point in her foggy memory but, confessing to no interest and since it lacked any ladylike overtones, no one insisted on the pursuit. If she now managed to keep the weapon from shaking too badly, she would count herself accomplished.
The voices outside diminished to nothing, forcing her to strain her disbelieving ears. Earlier angry shouts met with her aunt’s enthusiastic rebuttals, but none of the words held enough strength to pass intact through the stone walls and traverse the hall to her ears. The silence rang far louder for its uncertainty. Only one positive note prevented her from descending into proper hysteria, the fact no pistol shots had sounded.
The front latch clicked open, and she hurried to adjust her aim, cocking back the hammer of the rifle then releasing it again as she brought her cheek to the stock and recognized through her sights a tall, familiar form leaping off to the side, grabbing aunt Lily about the waist and tugging her with him. Another man, who she belatedly recognized as Admiral Robertson ducked in the other direction, knocking over another console to shield himself from her rifle.
“Daniel!” She shouted, abandoning her weapon on the floor and running out from her impromptu station. “Thank goodness you’re here! Aam sae sorry, Ah didnae mean tae—”
Babbling incoherently, she fell to her knees beside him, noting the lack of color in his features and the distant, haunted tint to his eyes. Needing to find a way to draw him back to himself, knowing his fright had sent him into the inner recesses of his instincts she reached out cautious, trembling hands to cup either side of his face. Her aunt sent a concerned glance toward his features, then gently disentangled herself from his grip and backed away from them, mumbling about seeing to the Admiral.
“Here now,” Lily admonished moments later when Daniel blinked in recognition and color began to infuse itself back into his complexion. “Yer affianced is perfectly hale, but willnae stay ‘at way if ye insist on smotherin’ him. Give th’ man some space.” Lenore caught her aunt’s suggestive stare and, against every demand of her nurturing instinct, gave a small nod and retreated.
“Good thing you’re not a trigger-happy sort,” the Admiral chuckled from off to the side. She dragged her attention away from Daniel long enough to see the man pull himself up from behind the ransacked console and dust off his clothing. When she looked back at Daniel, he was thankfully also righting himself, and that distance in his eyes had faded by a fraction.
“What the devil is going on?” Daniel insisted after several breaths. “Admiral Robertson told me there were rumors going about, but this is madness!”
Understanding Daniel’s distrust of himself, Lenore approached him with more caution now that he’d regained his sense of self, only entering within arm’s reach after he gave her a small nod of encouragement.
“It’s Tyrsdale,” she blurted. “’At fool man is tryin’ to re-create th’ same accusations his great-grandfather falsely threw at our great-grandmother.”
“He nae doubt realizes he hasnae got a chance ay winnin’ a legal dispute,” Lily joined in from beside her, “an’ sees this as a good distraction.”
“He obviously doesn’t remember how things went for his great-grandfather,” Daniel grumbled. Before pacing back to the door and yanking it open to survey the darkness beyond. The movement appeared more a distraction than any meaningful act, his eyes moving and blinking far too rapidly to adequately take in what little might be seen in the darkened landscape. Lenore tilted her head, noting Admiral Robertson’s concern.
“I daresay they’ll not be back anytime soon,” The Admiral stepped up beside Daniel, setting a light hand on his shoulder and following his gaze down the darkened drive. “If you haven’t any further need of my presence,” he addressed Daniel, but rotated his stance to include herself and Aunt Lily, “I had best return to my wife, who is no doubt near hysterics with concern for the both of you. With your permission, I’ll go home and inform her that you’re both hardy and hale.”
“Ay course, Admiral,” Lily nodded, walking across to the man and seeing him out.
Daniel returned to his pacing across the hall. Lenore moved closer to him, observing the play of emotions over his features. Happiness and fright competed in her assessment. He no longer sported the same lost and hollow pallor which overtook him for a brief moment when he woke from his dreams in his room, but neither did he instill confidence as a man in control of himself. Anger heightened the color in his cheeks and blazed in his eyes. The ferocity of it frightened her, and though she knew it wasn’t directed at her, her knees quaked. “Daniel?”
“That good for nothing...” He murmured, giving no indication he heard her.
“Aye,” Lily agreed in a weary voice, rejoining them in the main hall. The effect of her bravery and bluster stood in stark contrast to her usual demeanor. She rubbed a hand across her brow, then tucked away the curls her efforts unseated from her chignon. Pallor overtook her, making her appear far older than her years. “But we dinnae hae tae think about ‘at now. Aam going tae check on th’ housekeeper an’ stop off in th’ kitchen tae make mahself a strong cup ay tea.”
Lenore followed her aunt’s distracted departure with a shake of her head before allowing her worry over Daniel to consume her again. He stood in the center of the hall, every muscle taut, breathing ragged and eyes darting wildly in search of an escape. The muscle in his jaw worked without pause, and his hands tightened to shaking fists at his sides. Without a word, he angled himself toward the stairs, darting up two at a time and disappearing down the hall toward his room.
Following with as much speed as her skirts allowed, Lenore sorted through her thoughts. She hadn’t any idea how she might help Daniel in his internal battle but feared leaving him alone.
Daniel barreled into his room, heading straight for the desk, and ransacked the drawers in a frantic search for paper, pen, and ink. He knew Lenore followed behind him, though no footsteps escaped the muffling capacity of the thick carpeting. Her tension and concern pressed in on him from behind, at once both suffocating and reassuring. Ignoring her, he focused on settling himself at the desk and taking pen to paper. He needed a task, a diversion from the unwanted images floating across his mind. Lily on the steps, Lenore, frightened and trembling behind that piteous excuse for cover in the hall, Captain Phaelan. A step behind all of them, unable to prevent the world from assaulting them.
“Daniel,” Lenore’s aggravated voice sounded behind him. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he scoffed, tossing the response in her general direction without turning his head or straightening his posture “How can you ask that?” Flinching at his uninviting tone, he gripped the quill, hoping Lenore might abandon her inquiry.
“’At’s nae what Ah mean,” she clarified with a harsh release of her breath. “This was a frightenin’ turn ay events, Ah willnae deny ‘at, but ye were here; th’ Admiral was here, an’ it all turned out well.”
“No one ended up shot,” he growled, quill scratching out an angry monologue along the page in front of him. “That’s a far cry from ‘well’.”
“E’en sae, Daniel, somethin’ else sparked this state you’re in an’—”
“You needn’t concern yourself with it,” he snapped.
She straightened at his tone, debating her words only a moment before calling out his rudeness. “I’ll nae play th’ docile female tae yer tantrums, Daniel, ye ought tae ken it’s nae in mah nature,” She declared, soft tones giving way to dictatorial command.
He did know it.
He loved it in fact, but right now he needed her to leave before his fragile grip on his emotions gave way, and if stating the fact failed to encourage her, perhaps a more distasteful topic would. He threw down the quill. “Very well. If you’re in a mood to chat, why don’t we discuss what seemed so unappealing to you before I left?” He pushed up from his chair, rounding on Lenore, who stepped back wide-eyed.
“A-Ah dinnae ken—”
“Yes, you do,” he insisted. “Our impending marriage. The real one, mandated by the night we shared.”
“This doesnae need tae be—”
“Yes, it does,” he narrowed his gaze at Lenore, despite the ache it caused in his chest, a lump forming in his throat at the sight of the fight draining from her. “I understand, this isn’t what you wanted,” he began, unable to maintain the harshness in his tone. “I had no right to behave as I did the other night, and shackle you to me in such a way. I am prepared to acquiesce to any demand you might make of me in order to maintain your happiness. I’ll go to sea again in some capacity, even if the Navy has no further use for me. If you prefer I stay with my family when I am ashore—”
Her eyes flew up to meet his, anger and pain vying for prominence in their depths and bringing him up short.
“How kind ay ye tae frame it all as though it’s me you’re thinkin’ ay,” she ground out between clenched teeth.
“What do you mean by that?” he questioned, an uneasy weight forming in his stomach.
“Exactly what Ah said,” she crossed her arms in front of her, eyes glistening. “Ye dinnae count me as anythin’ worthwhile an’ cannae stand th’ thought ay havin’ tae parade me around as yer wife, can ye?” A tear spilled over onto her cheek an instant before she swiped it away. “An’ here Ah stand, fool ‘at Ah am, havin’ wasted years thinkin’ ay ye as a good man, a man more carin’ than he lets the world see, a man who, if Ah wait long enough might see—” she broke off with a shake of her head and a self-deprecating laugh.
The Captain's Surrender (Currents of Love Book 6) Page 13
