17
Eldren moved down the hall toward his chamber. As he turned the corner, he caught sight of the vibrant silk of Adelaide’s dressing gown. Wondering what she was about and why she might be up, he quickened his steps. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight once more just as she was vanishing down another winding corridor. Not for the first time, he cursed the many twists and turns that comprised the rabbit warren that was his home.
Hurrying after her, it seemed that she was always just ahead of him, out of reach. He couldn’t say precisely when he became aware that something was wrong. It might have been the chill in the air. It might have been the foul stench that assailed him as he climbed the stairs toward the tower that had been his mother’s final place of respite within the walls of their home. But as he neared the door to the chamber that had been hers, he felt a deep and intense sense of foreboding.
She stood in the center of the room, her back to him. Dark hair cascaded in waves over the richly colored silk that draped her form. Before she even turned to him, he knew. He felt it deep into his bones.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“I am your wife, of course,” the figure replied. The singsong, taunting tone of the voice was entirely wrong. If there had been any doubt that it wasn’t Adelaide, that had allayed it.
“No. You are not. I do not know who or what you are, but you are not my wife.”
It whirled then, displaying a face that bore a shocking similarity to Adelaide’s. But it lacked warmth. The eyes were entirely cold and devoid of any softness. The lips pulled back in a sneer. “I am whatever you wish me to be.”
“Then I wish you to be gone,” he replied.
The maniacal and twisted laughter that followed his request was that of a mad woman. “That is the one thing you will never have. I am part of this house and it is part of me. Every brick and stone. Every bit of wood and mortar… I am in it. Do you not know that, Eldren? Do you not feel it when you walk down these darkened corridors and your steps quicken because you feel watched, because you feel my breath on your neck and my fingers reaching out for you?”
For lack of any other idea of what to do, Eldren resorted to the religious fervor that his mother had indulged in when he was a child. Before things has been truly terrible, she’d gone to church any time there was a service and had often sought solace in the church even when it was devoid of others. From that, he’d learned a thing or two. “The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul—.”
“Silence!!!!!” I will not be stayed by your weak recitations of the words of a God you do not even believe in!” she hissed.
The glamour, if it was such a thing, that had made her appear as Adelaide was slipping. The face shifted and moved in an unnatural way, revealing a hint of the gruesome visage beneath.
Eldren continued, “He leadeth me in righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” He stopped, his words trailing into silence as the figure simply vanished. One minute it stood before him, wavering between two images. The next it was gone.
But the odor remained. The foul stench was one he recognized. Death. Stepping deeper into the room, ignoring the small voice inside his mind that told him to run and the pounding of his heart that told him the same, Eldren looked about him. He had not entered that room since the night his mother had murdered Mrs. Alberson. Taking stock, he noted that nothing seemed to be out of place. And yet his gaze was drawn again and again to the heavy trunk at the foot of the bed. Ornately carved and so ancient that the varnish on it had blackened with time, he felt a deep sense of foreboding. Nonetheless, he forced himself to move near it. With each step, the odor grew stronger and more overwhelming.
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he covered his mouth and nose as he raised the heavy lid. It offered little to no protection from the cloying stench as he stared down into the grotesque face of the missing footman. His lips were drawn back as if his mouth were opened in a perpetual silent scream and his cloudy eyes stared upward, vacant and unseeing.
Eldren replaced the lid and quickly left the room, gagging and wrenching as he did so. The stench would linger in his mind forever. Of that he was certain.
When he reached the chamber he’d taken to sharing with Adelaide, he opened the door as quietly as possible. Immediately, Dyllis rose from the cot she’d been resting on, still fully dressed.
“I’ll be returning to my own room now, my lord,” she offered.
“Actually, Dyllis, I need you to rouse Tromley and have him fetch a couple of footmen to assist him… I’ve found Charles,” Eldren said softly.
The maid’s lips parted in a soft ‘o’. “Found him? Do you mean… oh, heavens, my lord! Is he dead?”
“Very much so.” Recalling the amount of blood that had stained the once white shirt that covered the footman’s body, Eldren added, “And by foul means. We’ll need to send someone for the magistrate, as well.”
With wide eyes and a stricken expression, the maid nodded, bobbed a quick curtsy and rushed from the room. From the bed, Adelaide asked sleepily, “What is it? What’s happened?”
He debated whether to tell her about the incident that had led him to the tower. In the end, he decided against it. So much had occurred already and he didn’t want to frighten her further. Or perhaps worse, cause her to dig her heels in and put herself in even more jeopardy.
“I was just walking the halls and… well, there was an odor. I’ve found Charles. He’s dead. He’s likely been dead for some time now. At least since Warren was injured,” he offered.
She looked at him skeptically. “Where did you find him?”
“In the tower,” he answered.
“The room you avoid at all costs? Eldren, I know you’re hiding something from me. I can tell.”
The truth was better. “I am keeping some aspects of what occurred tonight to myself. But the simple truth, Adelaide, is that I find myself at a loss for words as to how to even convey them. I am beyond tired and too shaken to attempt at present.”
She sighed, clearly unhappy with his choice but also accepting for the moment. “Come to bed. We’ll discuss it more tomorrow… Away from the house. We both need to get away for a bit, I think.”
He smiled. “That I could not agree with more… I cannot remember being so tired.”
18
Sleep, as much as he’d craved it, had not provided the rest he desired. Eldren’s dreams had been haunted by the nightmarish visions of Igrida hiding behind the visage of his wife. Up earlier than usual, even for him, he missed the release of stress that he’d gotten from his pugilistic endeavors in the small room in the cellars. Any sleepless nights in the past had been combatted in just such a way. He’d have worked himself into exhaustion and then fallen into bed and a deep, dreamless sleep.
Donning his dressing gown, he headed down the hall to Warren’s chamber. Light filtered beneath the door, indicating that his brother was having a sleepless night, as well. Knocking softly on the door, he waited until Warren called out for him to enter. Inside, he found his brother sitting up in bed, an open book on his lap and a steaming cup of tea in his hand.
“Just tea?” Eldren asked.
“Yes. Just tea,” Warren answered. “Would you like some? The pot’s still warm.”
“Who brought you tea in the middle of the night?”
Warren closed the book. “Tromley checked on me before he went to bed and brought it up… I heard about the footman. The magistrate will arrive tomorrow morning. He refused to come out in the middle of the night. His exact words, per Tromley, ‘he won’t be any deader come daylight’.”
Eldren crossed to the small table before the fire where the tea tray had been left. He poured himself a cup and added a liberal dose of sugar and cream. He preferred coffee, but it would do f
or the moment. “I’m not surprised at his response. I’ve never met a more lazy man.”
“Did she do it?” Warren asked. “I know that Frances is a terrible person. Despite have been briefly blinded by her beauty, it didn’t take long to recognize that she is as greedy, grasping and cold as they come. But that’s a far cry from murderer.”
“I think that she did… and what’s more, she’s responsible for an attack that very nearly ended the life of Madame Leola. Also, for what it’s worth, and with much thought, I’ve reached the conclusion that her claims about you and about the conception of the child she carries, are a lie. I believe that poor murdered footman was the true father.”
Warren leaned back against the headboard and his gaze focused on the painted interior of the canopied bed. “I do not know. I still have no memory of that night. So many nights are a blur for me. I’ve drank my life away… Climbed into a bottle of brandy and soothed my many sorrows there while allowing my wife to bully and torment everyone around us. In the end, it’s much worse than her simply being a termagant. She is evil in ways I had blinded myself to with the help of liquor.”
“You’re not alone. I have willfully ignored her for a decade now, dismissing her as simply spoiled, difficult and unhappy. I think we’ve grown so numb to the face of the evil, living here, that we fail to see it now even when it is right in front of us.”
“And now?” Warren demanded.
“Now, I’ve had my eyes opened to the fact that there is far more going on here than I’ve ever imagined. We’re in the midst of something that is beyond the scope of anything you and I could possible envision… and yet I do not doubt the truth of Madame Leola’s claims now, any more than I doubt Adelaide’s instincts for what is occurring here. Had it not been for her intuition, for lack of better description, we might never have found Madame Leola lying injured and near death upon the moor. She knew, Warren, precisely where to go… There is no logical way to explain that. And when you eliminate the natural and logical, that leaves the supernatural.”
Warren nodded carefully. “These abilities that Adelaide is displaying…. were latent until she came here. Has she always possessed them and Cysgod Lys awakened them in some way? If so, can those abilities be trusted?”
“You think the dark forces at work here could be manipulating her?”
“It’s possible.” Warren paused thoughtfully and then continued, “It’s been manipulating all of us for years. Why not?”
“It’s something to consider,” Eldren conceded. “Now, I promised to take Adelaide away from the house today, at least for a time. An outing will be good for both of us. And I need to check in with Father Thomas about the book we discovered to see if his friend has been able to translate it.”
“And I shall wait here… recuperating like an invalid. The magistrate will have questions for you.”
“Then he may come find me. If he’d wanted them answered quickly, he should have come when called,” Eldren said smartly.
Warren laughed at that. “You’ve never sounded more like an earl!”
“I shall see you this afternoon, brother. Are you prepared for what will become of Frances?”
“There will be an inquest.”
“There will. And if I can manage it, I will have her quietly admitted to the same asylum where mother is.”
“And the child… whether or not it’s mine, we have some responsibility to it, don’t you think?”
Eldren considered his answer and then said firmly. “It will be cared for. I will see to it.”
“But not here?”
“It isn’t a cold choice, or an unfeeling one. I would not condemn any child to live in this house, Warren. We will be certain that it has a good life in a place where it will not have to be afraid of every shadow. Do you remember that feeling as a child?”
Warren laughed, but it was not an expression of humor. “I remember that feeling from a few hours ago, Eldren. I am not in disagreement.”
“I will see you this afternoon,” Eldren stated again and left the room. He returned to his bed chamber and found Adelaide up and dressing with Dyllis’ assistance.
“I was wondering where you’d gone off to,” she said.
“I couldn’t sleep. I went to check on Warren. Let me dress and we’ll go.”
“Without breakfast?” She asked.
“We’ll grab something as we head out… I find myself eager to be away from Cysgod Lys for a bit. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” she agreed.
* * *
Adelaide watched Eldren as he exited to the adjoining chamber to dress. She was beyond excited. The dream the she’d had the night before had been illuminating in ways she couldn’t even explain. It was as if the contents of the book were somehow being revealed to her, even without the benefit of a translator. She’d dreamed it so clearly and so vividly that she couldn’t not believe it. It had been almost as if she were there witnessing all that had transpired. The horrors of it, Igrida’s elation, and the awful truth about the children she’d borne during her marriage. Alwen had been a warrior and while he was certainly capable of viciousness and atrocities, there was little doubt left that Igrida, even then, had been the true monster.
“Just braid my hair and pin it up today, Dyllis. It will take too long for anything more elaborate and I am eager to be away for the day,” she said.
“Is it the murder, my lady? Poor Charles! Is it really true what they said? That Mrs. Llewellyn did it?”
“It looks that way. She is responsible for what happened to Madame Leola regardless. Be careful of her Dyllis! If you see her, run. Run as far and as fast as you can away from her. Is that understood?”
“Oh, yes!” Dyllis said, her fingers flying as she quickly braided Adelaide’s hair and pinned it in a loose chignon at the nape of her neck. “I understand, m’lady. And in truth, I’d be too terrified to do anything else! Will his lordship send someone to Charles’ family to tell them or will he send one of those awful telegrams? I can’t imagine it!”
“I hope that he would send someone and provide some sort of compensation to the family… though cold comfort it will be,” Adelaide mused. “I’ll discuss it with him today and be certain that something is done to ease the suffering of his family.”
“Even though it seems he was the one who attacked Mr. Llewellyn?”
“Even though,” Adelaide agreed. “I think Frances bewitched him, for lack of a better word. She’s a beautiful woman and could certainly turn the head of any inexperienced young man. Especially one who’s station was so far beneath hers. I imagine it must have been quite heady for poor Charles to have her attentions…false as they were.”
Dyllis nodded sadly. “Aye, my lady. It would be something for a boy such as him. And he was not much more than a boy. I believe he was just eighteen.”
Adelaide shook her head sadly. “That makes it more tragic somehow, doesn’t it?”
“Aye it does,” the maid agreed as she began tidying up the dressing table.
“Thank you for your assistance, Dyllis. And for the information,” Adelaide offered as she headed for the door, her coat draped over her arm.
She found Eldren down stairs already. He was waiting in the foyer just as one of the maids rushed forward with a small hamper. “There’s bacon and kippers, as well as bread and cheese inside, my lord, and a bottle full of hot tea and cups. It should suffice as a reasonable way to break your fast,” the maid offered.
“It will do nicely,” he said. “Thank you, and please thank cook for preparing our impromptu breakfast picnic.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said and bobbed a curtsy. “I’ll stow it in the carriage for you.”
“There’s no need,” he said and reached for the basket. “Her ladyship ad I can manage on our own.”
The maid gaped at him, then backed away, nodding. She bobbed another quick curtsy and scurried away.
“Are you ready to go face Father Thomas again?” He asked.
�
�I am. I’m very eager to discover what he’s learned about that book,” Adelaide said. “And there are other things we need to discuss. Imperatively.”
“Well, I’m intrigued.”
She smiled. “Food first, then Father Thomas. We may be on the same path.”
19
They arrived at the church just as Father Thomas was leaving it to return to the rectory. “Welcome,” he called out. “I’ve good news for you. I sent a telegraph to my friend after you left the other day. He arrived early yesterday morning and has worked through the night on your book.”
“That’s remarkable,” Adelaide said. “I’m quite relieved to hear that he’s come and that he’s been so eagerly working on it!”
“Quite so,” Father Thomas said. “Do come in!”
They followed him into the rectory and found a small man with white hair. He was seated at a small desk, hunched over the ancient tome, scratching notes onto a sheaf of papers next to it.
“Barton, these are the people who brought that book you’re so interested in,” Thomas called out.
The man looked up then, his eyes sparkling with intelligence and keen interest. “Oh, I am so very glad to meet you both. This is quite the most fascinating book I’ve encountered in all of my days as a scholar!”
“And what is that book precisely?” Eldren asked.
“It isn’t really one type of book… but several combined,” he said. “That is why it’s so very interesting!”
“It’s part grimoire and part journal. It’s Igrida’s account of all the things she accomplished, all that she wished to accomplish and the foul means by which she did so,” Adelaide offered.
The scholar, Barton, looked at her quizzically. “Yes, That’s precisely what it is. However did you know?”
“Because I dreamed of it,” Adelaide replied. “Last night… Is there a binding spell in that book, Mr. Barton? One where the woman who wrote it spoke of binding herself to the house? To Cysgod Lys?”
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