Mistress of Darkness: Dredthorne Hall Book 2

by Hunter, Hazel

  The sheets were still rumpled from the last time he and Gwen had slept there. Her trunks were waiting where she’d left them. Somehow they had to make it down the stairs and get out of the house and over to the stable—all without coming across his insane and lethally armed brother.

  But even as the plan formed in his mind, he heard something in the hallway beyond the open door. Though he dared to hope that it was Parks, recovered from the blow to his head, prudence dictated a different course. He took the pen knife from his pocket and waved the women back. This time, no matter who was out there, Robert had the advantage of surprise. If it was Parks, he could apologize later.

  As he silently crept forward, he hid the knife hand behind his back. At the doorway, he took a breath, and charged into the hallway.

  But Christopher must have heard him, for his pistols were raised and pointed squarely at Robert’s chest. Only steps from where his brother stood at the top of the stairs, Robert came to a stop.

  “Oh, Robert,” his brother sighed theatrically. “Somehow I knew I had better check. You prove annoyingly resilient.” Christopher glanced over Robert’s shoulder and for a moment foreboding sank in Robert’s stomach. Had Gwen followed him? “Did you leave the ladies to burn?” Christopher asked, grinning. “Now you begin to see that we’re not so different.”

  Apparently Gwen and her sister were still hidden. He forced a smile to his lips. “Exactly, brother,” Robert said, in his most reasonable tone. “Now that it’s just us two, let’s be sensible.”

  A wild glint lit Christopher’s eye. “Oh I am.” He raised one of the pistols to take aim, pointed it at Robert’s chest, and cocked the hammer.

  Robert whipped his arm from behind his back and let the pen knife fly. Twin pistol shots resounded in the air. Ducking low, Robert heard a lead ball smash into the ceiling behind him. Without a weapon now, he would have to charge his brother bare-handed. But when he looked at Christopher, his brother’s ashen face was looking down. At the front of his shin a gaping hole had appeared, with blood spurting from it.

  “The second pistol,” Robert breathed.

  Christopher stumbled backward, perhaps attempting to escape, but his leg wouldn’t support him. As Robert watched in horror, his brother dropped the pistols and plunged backward. Even as Robert raced to the edge of the stairs, he knew it was too late. His brother landed on his back halfway down the steps, but his momentum sent him further, flipping over and tumbling, until he rolled limply onto the floor, his neck at an impossible angle. Robert raced down the stairs reaching him only moments later, but he watched as the light faded from Christopher’s staring eyes.

  “Christopher!” Regina shrieked from the top of the stairs. She collapsed into her sister’s arms, sobbing as Gwen pulled her back from the edge, and the two of them sat down hard on the floor. His eyes met Gwen’s, hers full of sympathy and sorrow, before he looked down at his brother.

  Finally, it was over.

  Chapter 17

  Gwen glanced behind at Regina asleep in the back seat of the rig, and Parks on the floor at her feet. They’d piled almost every blanket they could find on top of the two of them. Robert had taken only a few minutes to reload the pistols before they’d set out for Renwick. She leaned her head on Robert’s shoulder as he drove her mare through the darkness.

  Robert squeezed her hand lightly, looking grim. He’d put Christopher’s body in the library, and covered it with a linen. They had already agreed that he would report a regrettable accident to the police. Christopher had been bringing his gun upstairs to clean, and startled himself when he realized it was loaded. Implausible as it might seem, it ironically fit the facts.

  Up ahead a few lights shone through the fog.

  “There it is,” Gwen gasped. “We’ve made it.”

  Gwen directed him through a few streets until Robert stopped the rig in front of the Archer’s house. After the opulence of Dredthorne, Gwen was struck by how modest her childhood home was. As she expected, there were no lights on, nor any smoke from the chimney.

  After Robert helped her down, she strode up the familiar path and knocked on the door. She heard Regina stirring behind her as Robert informed her that they’d arrived home. Though Gwen had to knock a few more times, a light finally came on in the front room. Her father’s weathered face appeared in the window with a candle, and his jaw dropped at what he beheld. Through the door, she could hear him shouting for her mother. Despite the circumstances in which she’d returned, she smiled at the sound of his voice and how it warmed her heart.

  Gwen heard the sound of the latch, as Robert and Regina joined her. Then her mother burst through the door.

  “Regina!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her daughter’s neck. “Where have you been? What has happened?”

  Gwen found herself wrapped up in her father’s fierce hug. “I despaired of seeing either of you again,” he said. Then he must have seen Robert. “Mr. Sheraton. Do I have you to thank for this happy reunion?”

  Robert bowed to him. “In the end, we three worked together to…affect our outcome.” He nodded at the rig in the lane behind him. “But I must beg your forgiveness. I must find a doctor for my valet.”

  “Your valet?” her father said, concern in his voice. “Well certainly. Let me tell you where you may find him.”

  As her mother fluttered around Regina and hurried her into the house, and her father escorted Robert to the rig and gave him directions, Gwen hovered on the threshold between the two. Here in the tiny village of Renwick, Dredthorne Hall almost seemed as though it’d been some fantasy, with its journals and secret passages. But Frances and Christopher were both dead, and that had not been a dream. As her father returned to her, Robert accompanied him.

  “With your permission, sir,” Robert said, “I’d like to bid Miss Archer goodbye.”

  Though Gwen knew that they would have to part, the word ‘goodbye’ took her aback. She was not ready to say goodbye—far from it. Nothing that they’d endured had prepared her for this moment.

  “Yes, of course,” her father said. As he retreated to the house, he gave her a wink and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t stay too long out in the cold.”

  When the door closed behind her, Robert looked into her eyes, but kept a proper distance between them.

  “I must arrange two funerals now,” he said. “I shall see to it quickly, but I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “We must do our duties.”

  He nodded and seemed like he might take her hand, but instead glanced over her shoulder at the house. He cleared his throat. “Well, then, I must–”

  “When it’s time, we shall go back to Dredthorne together,” she declared. “I feel we have a duty there: to Frances, and Miss Wilson, and to ourselves.”

  Though his face was haggard, and his journey not yet over, his eyes seemed to blaze in the darkness. “I shall hold you to that, Miss Archer.” He gave her a bow. “Until then.”

  * * *

  The service in London had been simple but dignified, as Robert had instructed the Sheraton’s funeral furnisher. Black crepe, muslin, and ostrich feathers had been liberally used throughout, and the procession from the sanctuary to the churchyard had been accompanied by bell ringing. There had been tributes for his father and kind words for his brother—or at least the man that his brother had once been. The Archers had met his mother, and then accompanied her, Robert, and their other relatives to the graveside.

  As the clergyman intoned the last words of his prayer, Robert noted how well Regina looked, nearly recovered from her mysterious disappearance. Gwen, of course, was such a vision, even in black, that he had to guard himself from looking at her overly long.

  In truth, he’d done his mourning at Dredthorne. Those grim days after his father’s death, while he waited in vain for Christopher, had been dark. Though he’d been glad to comfort his mother and aunt, and take the reins of the family’s affairs, the funeral was the
end of a certain phase of his life, and he found that he was anxious to progress to the next.

  “You’re sure you’ll be all right?” Mr. Archer asked Gwen. The other mourners had already found their carriages, and Robert had bid his mother goodbye. But Regina and her parents remained. “We can arrange for portage.”

  “That won’t be necessary, father, really,” Gwen said, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Mr. Sheraton and I can bring my trunks and Regina’s things. His steward has been at the hall for some days now. Everything’s settled.”

  “I shall take good care of her, Mr. Archer, ” Robert assured him. “You have my word. We shall return to Renwick tonight.”

  Gwen bid her family goodbye, and Robert helped her into his carriage, before climbing up himself. Once inside, he rapped on the roof. “To Dredthorne,” he called up to the driver.

  With a quick check through the back window to assure himself that no one could see them, he joined Gwen on her seat. It was the first time they’d truly been alone since…finding Christopher waiting for them in the library.

  He immediately framed her face with his hands and tenderly kissed her mouth. As though time had stood still, she responded in kind. It was as if they’d never been parted. When he released her, they both took in a sharp breath.

  “How I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

  “It felt like an eternity,” she said at the same time.

  Reassurance washed through him. As much as he’d looked forward to this moment, he’d worried over it as well. It had occurred to him that Gwen might have a change of heart once she was home, safe with Regina and their parents. Her sister had suffered so cruelly at the hands of his brother, and almost been killed by him herself. But now as she sat smiling beside him, he knew that his fears had been unfounded.

  “I’ve asked Thackery to examine the skeleton that we found in the secret room,” he said.

  Smiling, she took his hand on her lap. “Oh Robert, what a wonderful idea. I would so like to understand what happened to her.”

  “I feel we must,” he said, nodding. “As you say, it is our duty, not just to her, but also to ourselves.”

  With that, they nestled against each other, hands clasping hands, and settled in for the ride.

  Chapter 18

  Dredthorne loomed before them once more, but this time Gwen was not alone. She had Robert to keep her company and to keep the darkness at bay. Even so, the sight of the grand old hall sent a shiver down her spine.

  Even over the sound of the horse hooves on the brick drive, she heard Robert sigh.

  “Me too,” she said, hugging his arm. “I don’t want to be here either. But we’ll get our luggage together, and then we’ll leave.” And get on with our lives, she thought.

  “It’s strange to think of how I once scoffed at the curse,” he said, just as the carriage rolled up in front of the house.

  In a moment of déjà vu, a footman dashed forward. But rather than help her from her rig, he lowered the footstep and opened the door. Robert got out first, and then helped her down. Arm in arm, they ascended the steps and approached the entry together.

  “Miss Archer,” said a familiar voice. “May I be the first to welcome you back to Dredthorne Hall?”

  Gwen turned to see Parks among a small army of other servants.

  “Parks!” she exclaimed. Though she knew her station and his should prevent a show of affection, she couldn’t help herself. She ran to him, clutched his shoulders, and put her cheek briefly to his. “You look wonderful.”

  For several seconds, he could only dither and make sputtering sounds. “Miss Gwen,” he said finally. “It is…um…wonderful to see you too.”

  She held him at arm’s length for a moment, examining him. “Have you fully recovered?” she said, looking at the scar on his brow before letting him go.

  “Yes, Miss. Thanks to you and the master.”

  Robert stepped forward. “How go the preparations?”

  “Very well, sir.” He indicated the constant flow of servants carrying trunks, baskets, and bundles to the waiting coaches. “We’ve almost finished.”

  “Good,” Robert said. “Gwen and I will just have one more look around the old place.”

  “Very good, sir,” he said with a little bow. “Oh, sir, I almost forgot.” He took an envelope from the hall table. “This arrived for you yesterday from Dr. Thackery.”

  Robert opened the envelope and unfolded the letter as Gwen went to his side and they read it together.

  “A skull fracture is what killed her,” he said.

  “Possibly from a fall,” she finished, and looked up at him. “Possibly from a fall that was helped with a little push?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” he said. “She obviously fell hard enough to drive her earring into the wall.”

  “He also says there’s no known family,” Robert said. “The usual thorough Thackery.” He folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. “But I’d hoped she might find rest with her people.”

  “What the doctor can’t tell us,” Gwen said, “is who might have pushed her.”

  Slowly they made their way past the stream of servants, stopping at the library. Fresh paint on the ceiling and new drapes at the windows made it seem as though a fire had never happened. Canvas cloths, some worn and discolored, had been draped over all the tables, desks, and chairs. It was like a library of ghostly furniture now. She stood close to Robert, clinging to his arm.

  “I can hardly believe this is where I nearly lost you,” she whispered.

  “Nearly lost me?” he said. “I’m afraid that would have been in front of the bacon skillet.”

  Though she laughed, she heard the tension in his voice. “Come to the dining room,” she said, tugging him along. “I want to see the secret library.”

  But as soon as they entered, she wished they hadn’t. Everything had been cleaned up and put away. Like the library, the furniture had been covered. But more than that, all of the journals had simply been stacked on the shelves instead of being properly arranged. She should have known better than to expect more. The servants wouldn’t have known that each had its own place and its own special meaning.

  Secretly she’d hoped that she could have one last peek at Mrs. Thorne’s journals. But now, that was not to be. Instead she drifted from shelf to shelf, trailing her fingers along the leather spines.

  Robert came to her side and they held hands as she slowly surveyed the little library that had been her solace.

  He leaned in close to her, his hand in the small of her back. “I can see to the luggage,” he said. “You can stay here if you like.”

  “No,” she said, before quickly calming herself. She hugged his strong arm and looked into the midnight black of his eyes. “I mean we’re together now. We do this together.”

  He covered her hand with his, warming it and her. “Then I shall stay by your side here, until you are ready.”

  “I’m ready now,” she said. When he paused and gave her an inquiring look, she squeezed his arm. “Truly. We can go upstairs.”

  They took the stairs slowly, arm in arm, and Gwen found that the higher they ascended the tighter she gripped him. As they looked down on the new step that Parks had substituted for the sabotaged step, Robert wound his arm around her waist, but neither of them said anything. There was no trace of where Christopher had shot himself, the blood cleaned away and the marble damaged by the musket ball replaced.

  But when they mounted the top of the steps, Robert looked up and Gwen followed his gaze. Lodged in the ceiling panel was the projectile from the first pistol. It had escaped even Parks’ notice. Robert’s grasp of her became fractionally stronger, but again, there didn’t seem to be words—at least ones they hadn’t already said.

  Along the dark hallway, all the doors had been closed.

  “Oh,” she whispered softly, disappointed yet again. Perhaps they shouldn’t have come after all.

  “Let’s try the kn
ob anyway,” he suggested. As they stood in front of the bedchamber that she had once occupied, Robert reached out his hand, turned the knob, and to her astonishment, pushed the door open.

  He beamed at her. “After you, Miss Archer.”

  As below, all the furnishings had been draped with cloth, but Gwen recognized each one. She went to the chair and desk where she’d spent time reflecting on the thoughts of the Thornes, and wondering what had become of Miss Wilson. There was the chest of drawers and the dressing table. Beyond in the dressing room she knew was the secret door and dusty passage, and she wondered if anyone would ever enter them again.

  She heard Robert close the door as she continued her slow circumnavigation, until finally she ended at the bed. He stole up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes, reveling in the delicious warmth of his embrace and the feel of his hard chest pressing into her back.

  He put his mouth next to her ear. “Do you remember the first night we spent in this room?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, resting her hands on his arms. “How could I forget?”

  As his lips grazed her neck, she tilted her head sideways to permit him more room. His breath was soft, seeming to float down the front of her throat and over her chest.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else,” he murmured against her skin.

  Even as a familiar warmth began to grow in her belly, Gwen tried to think rationally. “The servants,” she whispered harshly. “They might–”

  “They’re finished here,” he said. His lips paused on her neck. “If you want me to stop–”

  “No,” she breathed. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

  In the next instant he hiked her skirts up around her waist, in one smooth movement, causing her to gasp. She knew she was bare to him, but the slither of his hands to the front of her hips pushed that thought from her mind. Instead, she wriggled backward, pushing herself against him, and was rewarded with his moan.