“How is she?”
“Awake and obstinate,” he replied.
Lady Montkeith’s gaze turned to the bed. “Oh, thank heavens. I was so afraid we wouldn’t reach you in time.”
“You knew?”
“I called for her,” Leola said softly. “Go, John. Leave me in Lady Montkeith’s care.”
He wanted to protest, but in the end thought better of it. She was already weakened from her injury and being in his presence, for the moment at least, offered her no peace. Protesting would have been for his own benefit and not hers and he’d been selfish enough. “I’ll return shortly to look in on you. And to get to the bottom of this.”
With that he rose, nodded to Lady Montkeith and left the room. He encountered Lord Montkeith on the landing. “I’ve been dismissed,” he said.
“I see. I think it might be best to leave Adelaide and Madame Leola alone for a moment… there were things that occurred today, things I cannot explain. After the doctor has arrived and treated her wounds, we’ll begin trying to ferret out what actually occurred and whom is responsible,” Lord Montkeith said. “Join me in the sitting room for a drink. I think we could both use it.”
John nodded. “Indeed. Or several.”
* * *
“I wasn’t certain it would work,” Madame Leola said.
Adelaide shuddered. “I don’t how you did it, but I was so terrified when we saw you there on the moor. I thought—.” She broke off abruptly, unable to complete the thought.
“That I was beyond your help already?”
Adelaide nodded. “Precisely. I feared the worst. Thank heavens I was wrong. Who did this to you, Leola?”
“It can’t be very difficult to guess,” the other woman said somewhat bitterly.
“Frances? But why?”
Leola was weakening. Adelaide could see it. The other woman’s eyes were drifting closed.
“It doesn’t matter why. We’ll deal with that soon enough,” Adelaide continued. “For now, we need to get your wounds taken care of. I don’t understand what’s taking that doctor so long!”
There was no response. Leola had lapsed into unconsciousness. Adelaide stayed with her, continuing to hold pressure on the still seeping wound. It seemed to take hours as she sat there fretting and worrying. At long last, the door opened and one of the maids ushered the doctor in.
“What’s happened to her?” he asked.
“We don’t know exactly,” Adelaide skirted the truth. “We found her lying on the moor. She’s been stabbed or cut, but I cannot say with what or by whom.”
The doctor’s bushy ginger and white brows shot toward his receding hairline in a manner that might have been comical in better circumstances. “And what the devil was she doing on the moor? No good can come of that place. Too much blood shed there over many centuries for it to be anything but wicked now.”
“Those are rather superstitious mutterings for a man of science, doctor,” Adelaide said, her voice dripping with censure.
“Not everything can be explained by science, your ladyship. I’ve lived in these parts for all of my life, save for the time I was away for my studies and training. I know what’s whispered of here… on that moor, and here at Cysgod Lys. I’m a man of faith as well as science. Faith requires that I believe in the almighty. Science requires that I believe in balance, and to that end, there has to be as much evil in the world as good.”
“What a startlingly sensible approach to something that is intrinsically difficult to categorize, doctor. Perhaps we can entertain spiritual and metaphysical conversations when my friend is not bleeding so severely?” The suggestion was uttered mildly, but it overflowed with reproach.
He glanced at the wan figure in the bed. “It’s not bleeding so badly. If you’ll be kind enough as to step outside. I can tell from here that she’ll need sutures and plenty of them. I doubt you’ve the stomach to watch a needle piercing flesh again and again as will be required.”
“I have less stomach for leaving her alone to a strange man. Should she wake during your ministrations, a familiar face would likely soothe her fears,” Adelaide said. Determined to stay, she did rise and walk around to the other side of the bed, permitting the doctor room to work.
“Well enough,” he said and moved to the basin near the fire to wash his hands. Afterward, he doused them with whiskey and his instruments as well.
It was an old practice and there were other chemicals that would have sterilized as effectively if not more so. Adelaide suspected that the whiskey was as much for the doctor’s own hydration as for the disinfecting of his many implements. Still, she was rather gratified that he seemed to have some inkling of how not to spread disease and putrification.
As the doctor moved to the bed and began to peel away the layers of bandages, Adelaide had to bite back a gasp of horror. The angry red slash went from the top of Leola’s shoulder down her arm. The doctor made a grunting noise.
“What does that mean?”
“What?” He asked.
“You grunted when you viewed the wound. What did you mean by it?”
“I meant nothing by it, my lady. Other than thinking to myself it’ll take forever to stitch it up. And it will scar. Quite badly I fear. It’s also going to burn like the very devil as it will have to be thoroughly disinfected. There will be bits of cloth and dirt in the wound. And depending on the state the weapon was in, whatever nasty things might have been transferred from it. Make no mistake, Lady Montkeith, the true danger to your friend does not lie in the severity of her wound, but in the risk for infection,” he warned seriously.
“Please do what you can for her,” Adelaide implored. “She’s a very kind woman, doctor. She did not deserve what has happened to her. I fear we invited her and thrust her into harm’s way. I couldn’t bear it if she were to perish because of that.”
“I will do all that I can. As will you, my lady. She is young and appears to be in good health otherwise,” he offered, in an attempt to be reassuring. From his obvious discomfiture, it was clearly not something he did often.
16
It had been two long days that they’d been holding vigil over Madame Leola. She had lapsed in and out of consciousness, murmuring nonsensical phrases that meant nothing to anyone. But finally, that afternoon, she had rallied. Her fevered ravings had settled into true, peaceful sleep. From that point, it had been nothing more than waiting.
Lord Mortimer snored in a wing chair in the corner of Madame Leola’s room. Eldren sat upon a straight backed chair beside the bed. He’d hoped the uncomfortable seat would help him to remain awake, but it was failing. He’d forced Adelaide to go to bed only a short time earlier and, breaking with protocol, he’d had Dyllis remain with her on a small cot set up in their bedchamber. Considering what had occurred the last time he left her to sleep alone, he would not be doing so again.
The woman on the bed stirred, her head tossing from side to side. The laudanum was beginning to wear off. As her eyes fluttered open, she turned to him instantly. There was no confusion or disorientation, even when awakening from her drugged state. It was unnerving.
“Where is Lady Montkeith?” She asked.
“I sent her to bed… and I had her maid stay with her so she would not be alone,” he replied. “But you don’t need to worry about her. She will be fine. You are the one who was very nearly at death’s door, Madame Leola. Tell me who did this to you.”
She eyed him cautiously. “You don’t think I did it myself in order to manipulate you? It isn’t simply a part of my charlatan tactics?”
Eldren didn’t blush, nor did he look away. “I will admit that I had suspicions when you arrived. But they have been allayed over the last few days, as well you know. And what I witnessed this afternoon, with Adelaide so….so connected to you, I cannot be anything less than a believer. So tell me, Madame Leola, who is responsible for your injuries so that I might see them brought to justice.”
“You cannot, Lord Montkeith. Not without
courting disastrous scandal. You see, it was your sister-in-law, Frances, Mrs. Warren Llewellyn… she is quite unhinged, I fear. But in places such as this, where power flows so freely, it is so easy to be corrupted by it.”
Eldren sighed. “This house did not corrupt Frances. If anything, she may have corrupted it further, if such a thing is possible.”
Madame Leola grimaced as she tried to shift her weight in the bed. “There may well have been some cross corruption, my lord, but I can say with complete certainty that whatever power exists here has driven Frances to the brink of madness and beyond. I could see it in her eyes. She’s taken too much of the darkness into herself and it will destroy her… but she means to do something truly diabolical, and she must be stopped.”
“More diabolical than attempting to murder you?” Eldren demanded.
Madame Leola sighed wearily. It was clear from her expression that she was weighing precisely how much to say. “I think she means to rid herself of the child… but more than that, I think the entity that has infested Cysgod Lys means for that child to be portal into the physical world.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Is it?” She demanded. “Frances is hardly the maternal sort. She has no interest in the child but she is very interested in what the child is to inherit! I believe with all my heart, Lord Montkeith, that she means to use that child to gain some sort of upper hand here. But she’s made a terrible miscalculation.”
“And what is that?” Eldren demanded. He had ignored Frances as much as possible, choosing to not even acknowledge her presence in the home.
“She means to barter the child to the darkness here… to give it life and form by letting it possess the child she carries.”
That statement made his blood run cold. In truth, he had not given much thought to the child itself. To that point, he’d been thinking only of Frances and how she would forever be part of their lives because of it. Still, he recoiled in horror at what Madame Leola was suggesting. “You’re speaking of possession. Is such a thing possible?”
“Possession is entirely possible. But this isn’t simple possession, my lord. This thing would become the child. It’s soul, it’s life would be forfeit. She would give birth to darkness, or so she has promised… but she means to renege on her bargain, and in doing so rid herself of the child she carries. If she does this, if she succeeds, the anger and fury from this being—I cannot say what would happen. We must act quickly and bring a halt to these twisted machinations.”
He hated himself for asking the question, but he felt compelled to do so. “As callous as it sounds, would it truly be so terrible if Frances were permitted to bring an end to her pregnancy?”
“It would,” Madame Leola said ominously. “The consequences would be—we have not seen the worst of this dark entity, Lord Montkeith. And if Frances does not uphold her end of the bargain, we will. It would be fearsome and terrible in ways you cannot imagine.”
Eldren placed one hand over his eyes. He was tired. Beyond tired, in truth. The burden of his responsibilities were weighing heavily on his shoulders. How could he keep everyone safe? How could he prevent Frances from behaving in a fashion that would bring disaster and ruin crashing in on all of them? How could he hope to battle something he could not see, something that seemed to hold all the power in the situation?
“Do not lose hope, Lord Montkeith. The book that Lady Montkeith found… it’s the key. It will tell us all we need to know.”
“Assuming we can find someone to translate it,” he said.
“We will be successful, Lord Montkeith. I’ve seen it. And what I learned today… Igrida was responsible for the slaughter of the village. Not Alwen. She bewitched him and made him do it. Then she sacrificed every daughter she bore him because she believed that her daughter’s would siphon her power from her and she would not share it! Everything you have been taught about your family history has been a lie… a lie engineered by her.”
“Why? Why hide such a thing?” Eldren asked.
“Because that is the secret… Lady Montkeith is descended from Igrida’s line. Not Alwen’s. She shares the sorceress’ blood and that is why she will be the one to end this… We just need to determine how to bring that about.”
One question burned in Eldren’s mind. “How did you discover this?”
“I was told… by the spirits who inhabit the moor. It was because they told me this that Frances attacked me,” she explained.
“The spirits of the moor,” he said on a heavy sigh. “I’ve always known that things at Cysgod Lys were not as they should be. I had half convinced myself that all the strange occurrences were a product of inherited madness rather than anything truly supernatural. To be completely honest, Madame Leola, I would be more comfortable with the notion of some sort of blood linked insanity than all of this.”
She smiled sadly. “I do understand, Lord Montkeith. I do. I was not always so accepting of my talents. When I was a child, the things I saw and heard terrified me. But I’ve made my peace with that, and you will as well… And since the madness that plagues your family is a result of Igrida’s wickedness and not some infirmity of the mind that you cannot escape, it changes things very dramatically for you and Lady Montkeith. Does it not?”
Eldren looked up at her then. “What do you know about my relationship with Adelaide?”
“Your wife has said nothing, Lord Montkeith, but I do not get to pick and choose what knowledge comes to me and what does not. There is a sadness and a distance between you that centers on the notion of children. I’ve seen it in her response to Frances’ current condition. It pains her greatly… but it need not. You have nothing to fear. Not in that regard.”
He laughed then. “Only in every other.”
“So it would seem,” she agreed. “Go to your wife, Lord Montkeith. I am well and shall be fine. Lord Mortimer will assist me if I require anything.”
Eldren rose. “Thank you, Madame Leola. And thank heavens your injuries were not more serious. I am glad you will make a full recovery.”
* * *
From his chair in the corner, John Tremaine listened to the exchange between Leola and Montkeith. He continued to keep his eyes closed and feign sleep even as Lord Montkeith vacated the room. But he could feel Leola’s gaze upon him.
“You can stop pretending,” she said. “I know you’re awake.”
Opening his eyes, he looked at her levelly. “I wasn’t entirely certain you’d wish for me to remain. Or is that what this is? Are you tossing me out on my arse, Leola Travers?”
“Travers? How long have you known my name?”
He couldn’t halt the smirk that tugged at his lips. “For as long as I’ve known you. Do you really think I would not have looked into your background?”
“So you know that I’m the bastard daughter of a Seven Dials prostitute who read tea leaves and palms to make ends meet?”
He sighed and leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “I know that your mother lived a wretched existence and that she did so in order to spare you the same. I know that she taught you her skills and taught you how to mimic the manners of higher society ladies so that you might take your talents and parlay them into a more secure and more dignified future. And you’ve done that. You can be whomever you choose. Madame Leola or just Leola Travers. It’s up to you.”
“Then why did you throw that name in my face like a bloody curse?” She snapped.
“Because I need you to understand that it doesn’t matter to me. It has never mattered to me. Because I love you. No matter what name you call yourself or from whence you hail. Because I’ve been a sentimental fool clinging to grief and guilt rather than taking a chance on happiness with a woman whom I do not deserve.”
“You love me?”
John nodded. “Yes. I love you. And it took the threat of losing you to make me realize just how much. I’m tired of living in the past, Leola. It’s time to focus on a future… and I want it to be a future with y
ou.”
“It will never work, John. You know that I am not part of your world. I’m accepted now because I know my place. This can only end in disaster.”
“Then let it end in disaster… so long as it begins,” he said. “We will see this through here at Cysgod Lys, Leola, and then we are going to embark on a life together. Come what may.”
She stared at him for a moment. “Come what may? I think this house has possessed you!”
“This house has not. But you have… I’ve come to my senses. I’ll say it again, Leola. I love you. And when you are sufficiently recovered, I mean to show you just how much,” he vowed.
“I’m recovered enough for a kiss… that’s surely a way to begin,” she replied.
He rose from his chair and crossed the short distance to the bed where she rested. Easing himself down beside her, he bracketed her slender form with his arms and leaned in, pausing with his lips scant inches from her. “This is the point of no return.”
“So it is,” she said. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
John closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. He hadn’t touched a woman in a carnal way since his wife had died. The power of it, the rush of sensation and heat, of longing, rocked him to his core. He’d spent years traveling with Leola. They’d seen the world together but he’d been too busy thinking of all he’d lost to ever pay attention to what he’d gained.
Mindful of her injuries, the kiss was controlled. Slow, seductive, tender—he savored every second of it. When it ended, he pressed his forehead to hers, and lingered there, enjoying the sensation of closeness to another person. It had been too long.
“Thank you, Leola.”
“For a kiss?”
He chuckled softly. “No, for opening my eyes. For giving me something in life to look forward to again.”
“Go to bed, John. I’ll be fine here till tomorrow morning,” she urged. “You need sleep. We all do.”
He moved back to his chair and settled into it. “I’m fine here. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
Veil of Shadows Page 10
