8
Adelaide undressed, but her mind was not on the task. It was occupied with the events that had transpired in the morning room only an hour earlier. As she loosened her corset and removed it, a frown settled over her features as she considered Madame Leola’s words. If it had ever been human. It had never occurred to her that the entity they were dealing with was not of human origin, that it was something older and perhaps more elemental than that.
“You are deep in thought, my wife,” Eldren said from the doorway.
“I am,” she agreed. “I keep thinking about Madame Leola’s words. Are you a believer now or do you still think her a charlatan?”
Eldren stepped deeper into the room and leaned against the bedpost. “I’m not entirely convinced, but I find myself less skeptical than I was before. I felt something in that room tonight, something I cannot explain,” he admitted.
“I was very afraid… of it, yes, but also of what it might do to her. I know she has been to many places and seen many inexplicable things, and yet I fear that what we have here at Cysgod Lys is not like anything else she may have ever encountered.”
“I think that is an accurate assessment… What happened to you in here that night last week, Adelaide? What frightened you so that you cannot even tell me?”
She had put it far from her mind, trying not to think of it and not to allow it to taint the newest phase of her relationship with Eldren. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”
“That isn’t how it works, Adelaide. I cannot protect you. I cannot help you, if you do not tell me what has occurred. I have an inkling that what we felt in that room tonight might be very similar to what you felt then,” he said.
“It wasn’t,” she denied. “What I felt that night was infinitely worse. This thing is a trickster, Eldren. It lies. It masquerades and camouflages itself into whatever will terrify us or hurt us the most. That’s why it took the shape of my father in my nightmares, why it harkens back to the sinking of the Mohegan in so many ways to terrorize me.” Her voice trembled as she revealed all of that, revealing just how frightened she truly had been.
“And what did it do to terrorize you that time? It was different, Adelaide. I know it was.”
“It touched me,” she admitted. “It climbed into the bed and touched me in ways that at first, half asleep—I thought it was you.”
He said nothing, but his jaw hardened and his eyes flashed with anger. “Go on.”
“It wasn’t—I realized very quickly that it wasn’t you and I leapt from the bed. That was what you heard. I leapt from the bed so quickly that I bumped into the table there and set everything off kilter. But, I felt violated by it I suppose. And afraid that, perhaps the next time, it would manage to do more. That is why I will no longer go to bed alone, why, no matter what time you come here, you will find me awake and sitting up, waiting for you.” It hadn’t even been a conscious choice on her part that she would do so, but after uttering it aloud, she knew it to be true.
He moved away from the bedpost and came to her, taking her in his arms and holding her close. “I will not let it harm you. No matter the cost.”
“It may not be your choice,” she said. “I had a long talk with Madame Leola today. About being what she calls a catalyst. She thinks that my presence here has somehow invigorated the powers that exist here. And I cannot help but think this is true.”
“Does she say how this happened?”
Adelaide settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Part of it is that I have some connection to this land, to this family. My mother was always a very sensitive person. She seemed to know what others were thinking before they said anything and was able to know instinctively what to do to help those in need. Madame Leola thinks I have a similar ability.”
“And do you believe that?”
Adelaide shrugged in dismay. “I don’t know. I was always so sheltered from everyone. As a child, I was rarely around anyone save my mother and father… then Muriel. Even now, I am isolated from others, though by choice at this point. It’s hard for me to know. But I can think of no other reason for all that has happened.”
“I concede the point, but I worry about her motives. Do you trust her? I mean with certainty?”
Adelaide considered the question. “She’s come here with no promise of any sort of compensation beyond what Lord Mortimer provides for her. And it is not contingent upon what she finds here… so, I can’t see what her motive would be for pretending or lying. But she is a stranger, and un unknown quantity, so to speak. Perhaps proceeding with caution might not be the worst approach.”
“Agreed. I’m not saying she’s wrong. I can’t deny that things have… intensified since you arrived here. Whatever the reason may be, I do not believe it is a coincidence.”
Since they seem to be in accord in regards to Madame Leola, Adelaide decided to broach a more sensitive topic. “Frances cannot stay, Eldren. Something must be done about her.”
* * *
Eldren sighed wearily. He didn’t want her there anymore than Adelaide did. But if the child she carried truly was Warren’s, he couldn’t simply throw her out, no matter how he felt about her.
“I can’t put her out, Adelaide. Not without knowing the truth about the child she carried and about Warren. But we can’t hold her prisoner here, either, even if it would simplify matters.”
“She’s plotting, Eldren. She lurks and watches like a spider while we tangle ourselves deeper in her web,” Adelaide continued.
“We are wise to her nature, if not privy to all her ways and motives,” he replied, hoping to sooth some of her fears. “We will not be caught unawares by her and we will prevail… somehow.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the foolishly optimistic one?”
Eldren laughed at her wry tone. “I can’t recall the last time I laughed,” he said. “I can’t honestly recall the last time I was happy, and despite everything that is happening, and the difficulties we have faced here, I’m happier with you than I have been in a very long time.”
He hadn’t intended to say it. The words had simply tumbled out of him, but he couldn’t regret them, not when he saw the hopeful expression that crossed her face or thee happiness that flared in her gaze.
“I didn’t know I was unhappy,” she said. “I despised Muriel and what she was doing to my father and to me, but I was so focused on her, I didn’t see that I had nothing else in my life that was good. But I do now. We both have something worth fighting for, I think.”
Pushing himself away from the bed post, he moved toward her and simply took her in his arms. Holding her tightly, he simply savored the moment. They were in a detente with whatever darkness lurked inside the walls of their home. It wouldn’t last. It was only a matter of time until it made its presence known once more and in a fashion that would surely leave them all terrified. The anticipation of those moments, the waiting and wondering, were almost as terrible as the moments themselves. But for now, he would put that far from his mind and simply focus on his wife. His wife. It had been an impetuous choice, to offer a marriage of convenience to a girl he’d only ever seen from a distance, a girl who was alone in the world, but far from the vulnerable waif he might have imagined. But he had no regrets, and he felt that some guiding force had steered them on their current path. He only prayed it was a benevolent one.
* * *
Frances paced her room. Charles, the footman she’d been dallying with, had attacked Warren in a fit of jealousy. What the boy had been thinking she could not fathom. While she had never made it clear to Charles that he was nothing more than a stud at service, she had assumed that he would know. Afterall, he was but a lowly footman. What madness could have possessed him to think that she would ever cast off her husband for a servant?
And yet, he’d stood there, professing his adoration for her and his desire to care for her and his child. His child. The fool would ruin everything she had been working toward. All her well laid plans might be
ruined just because of an impetuous, love sick boy. If Warren recovered, if he remembered any of that encounter, all could be lost.
“I can’t let that happen,” she said aloud.
You know what you must do.
The whisper was low and rough, close enough that she felt it slither over her skin and felt the rush of gooseflesh in its wake. It was never far from her, but rarely did it speak so clearly.
“What must I do?”
They plot against me… against us. The footman is a danger and must be dealt with first. Kill him. Kill him and hide the body. The others will be picked off one by one or driven mad by my minions.
The minions had never bothered her. The wraiths and shadows that lurked within the dark corners of Cysgod Lys were indifferent to her. They always had been. The house had called to her. Warren had been handsome enough and manageable enough that she had agreed to marry him long before she’d ever seen the house. But after he’d brought her home, she’d known that it was meant to be. Fate had brought him to her so that she might reign as mistress over it. She’d thought once to wield the darkness inside it, but she’d learned quickly enough that the darkness held the power and that she was the tool to be wielded. She’d accepted that fate, because having power, even if it was secondhand, was preferable to being powerless. And what was a wife if not lacking in power? A widow, or better still, the widowed mother of a very young earl—that would be a woman with power. And if she could shut Charles up, that would be her destiny.
“Where is he?” Frances asked.
Lurking in the same chamber you seduced him in.
The tower. She would have believed him too superstitious to go there after Mrs. Alberson’s murder, but then perhaps he was counting on the superstitions of the others to keep them from searching there for him. She knew that Tromley was having the servants scour the house for him. If they found him—well, that couldn’t happen. He would not be able to hold out against any question. He would simply roll over and offer up anything they wished from him.
“I’ll need your help… and your minions,” Frances uttered softly. “You must scare the others away and clear a path for me.”
Have I not always done so?
Frances didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. From the moment she had set foot on the grounds of Cysgod Lys, there had been an awareness. Long before it had ever spoken to her, she’d known of its presence. At first, it had been soft whispers, so soft that she’d often wondered if they hadn’t been manufactured within her own mind. But then all those whispers had taken on greater significance. She’d been warned when Warren’s mother would be roaming the halls in her rages, so that she might avoid her. When she’d been dallying with another footmen, she’d been warned when they were about to be discovered. It was only then, when she’d voiced aloud her gratitude to whatever it was, that their partnership, for lack of a better word, had been formed.
The dark force receded. It was like the tide going out as it crept from the room. Frances removed a pair of shears from her sewing basket and placed them in the pocket of her dressing gown as she moved toward the door and waited. Within moments she heard the distant and muted shriek of a startled maid. A dozen set of footsteps followed as the other servants on that floor rushed to check up on her. Knowing that she was finally unobserved, Frances opened the door and slipped from her room, heading for the tower and poor Charlie who would not survive the night.
9
Adelaide couldn’t say what had awakened her. But a sense of urgency seized her as soon as she opened her eyes and sat up in the center of the bed. Eldren was gone. Perhaps he’d gone to check on Warren and that was what had woken her. She couldn’t say. But without even thinking of her actions or considering what she was doing, she shoved the covers back and rose from the bed. Slipping her dressing gown on over the flimsy night rail she wore, she left the room and wandered down the darkened hall. There was a small bit of light filtering through the windows at the end of the hall, but not so much that she could move freely. She kept one hand on the wall for support and for some sense of grounding, she supposed.
There was no destination in her mind. She simply put one foot in front of the other. But it was no idle stroll. She was being guided, led almost, by something she could not see. But she strangely felt no fear. Somehow, she felt shielded, protected even, as she made her way along the hall. Near the end of it, she turned abruptly and opened a door to her right. Stepping into that darkened chamber, she didn’t open the curtains to let in the light. Instead, she walked unerringly to the fireplace and placed one hand on the intricately carved panel to the left of it. There was some resistance, but by using both hands she managed to shift it slightly and then it moved more freely. The opening it revealed was shrouded with dust and cobwebs. Regardless, Adelaide reached inside it and removed the cloth wrapped bundle from inside it.
As soon as her hands closed over it, the sense of safety fled. Whatever had guided her there was gone and in its place remained only the darkness and the infinite shadows that shifted and swirled in a terrifying eddy. Whatever had guided her there had abandoned her when danger presented itself.
The room filled with a presence that could only be described as malevolent. Everything she had experienced to that point paled in comparison to the immediate threat she felt.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied. She was afraid. Terrified, in fact. But her fear gave it power over her and she was not allowing that to happen anymore.
The paintings on the wall, shrouded in dust covers, clattered and banged before falling to the floor.
“Parlor tricks and theatrics,” Adelaide challenged. “But you’re here, so tell me what you what.”
Leave it. It doesn’t belong to you.
The whispered words surrounded her, almost as if it had been whispered in both ears at the same time. “You are dead. Nothing in this house belongs to you.”
The very walls rattled around her. Surely the noise would wake the entire house.
It was no longer a whisper against her ears, but an enraged shriek. It pounded at her, making her ears ring and her head ache as she sank to her knees under the onslaught.
“What do you want of me?” she cried out. “Why are you here now tormenting me?”
You’re blood ties you to this place. You should never have come here.
“Well, I did! And now I’m not going anywhere as you tried to kill me the last time!”
The voice took on a different tone, one of smugness. You will die here as all the others have, by your own hand… driven mad with fear. And then you will be mine to use forever, just as the others are.
There was something in those whispered words that teased at Adelaide’s mind. But suddenly it fell into place. The voice sounded decidedly feminine, and yet it was supposed to be Alwen who haunted Cysgod Lys. “Who are you?”
It does not matter who I am. Soon you will be nothing more than the memory of a person, a shattered wraith roaming with the others.
With that whispered threat, the shadows seemed to shrink back into the walls as the fire in the hearth flared sharply.
Adelaide let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. Pulling herself up, she clutched the cloth wrapped bundle to her chest and left the chamber. She was shaking as she made her way back to their own rooms. When she entered, Eldren was standing there in the center of room, donning his dressing gown.
“I was about to come looking for you,” he said. “I was worried. Where on earth did you go?”
“I woke up and just felt… compelled I suppose. I found this in a room near the end of the hall that has ben shut up for years. It was hidden behind a panel in the fireplace.”
Eldren frowned. “You can’t wander this house at night, Adelaide. It isn’t safe.”
“I know. It was fine in the beginning… I think someone else was with me. Someone benevolent, I believe. But then it came back. And I was alone with it. But if I can’t wander in the night, neither can you,” she sa
id sharply. “You were gone when I woke.”
“Warren has regained consciousness,” he said softly. “The maid came to fetch me just a few moments ago when it occurred.”
“How is he?”
“Groggy. Confused. He remembers nothing of the attack, only that he and Frances had left the dining room to come upstairs.” Eldren paced as he revealed that information, clearly disturbed by it. “We’re no closer to proving Frances a villain than we were to start with.”
“We’ve been wrong, Eldren.”
“About Frances?” He asked, clearly shocked and disbelieving.
“No. About it. It spoke to me tonight,” she admitted.
“What do you mean spoke?”
“I’ve heard whispers from the start. That very first night on the moor and then again in Chester and so many times here… but this was different. I heard it’s voice in my mind. And I know something about it now that we did not know before,” she said in an excited whisper.
“And what is that?” he demanded, clearly far from mollified by her enthusiasm.
“When it spoke to me tonight… those dreadful whispers, I realized something about this spirit or entity, Eldren. It is decidedly feminine. I can’t tell you how I know that, but I do. All along, it’s been a woman, or rather it was a woman, some time ago.”
“Adelaide, it’s been recorded for centuries by members of family that the events that occurred here were attributed to Alwen.”
“It isn’t Alwen who is haunting Cysgod Lys. He may be here, but he is not the force behind all of these occurrences. It’s a woman… I know it. And I think whatever this is,” she said, gesturing toward the bundle, “will prove it.”
The account she’d read of the Llewellyn family history had been a 17th century translation of a 14th century text. Had the person who translated it simply done a poor job of it or had their intent been to mislead the readers? Had they been a pawn used by the dark entity to conceal her identity? It was clear that this being, whatever or whoever it was, often manipulated the living to do their bidding. Frances was playing a very dangerous game, Adelaide thought. She was placing her trust in something that would only ever be betray her in the end. But then Frances would undertake her fair share of betrayal as well. Of that there was little doubt.
Veil of Shadows Page 6
