Wiping the blood that still trickled, although much more sedately, from her nose, Frances turned and worked her way back through the labrynth of tunnels and to the only other entrance to the cellar that opened in the house. It was a hidden door into one of the sculleries. Finding it empty, she slipped past the kitchens and climbed the stairs. She’d plead her case to Warren. If she confessed her infidelity and then claimed that she’d killed Charles because he attacked her and she feared for the life of her unborn child, he would help her. Because he always helped her.
* * *
The magistrate looked at Warren skeptically. “And you never saw who struck you?”
“I can’t say if I saw them, my good man. I can only state, again, that I do not remember the attack. The blow to my head was rather vicious and it rendered me unconscious. I remained in that state for nearly two days.” Warren was quickly losing patience with the man. His head ached abominably and the magistrate was only making it worse with his incessant and repetitive questioning. He was on the verge of telling the man so when the door to his room burst open. Frances rushed in, her nose bloodied, dirt on her clothes and a wild look in her eyes.
“What in the devil happened to you?” The magistrate demanded.
“I fell. I’ve been staying in the dower house and when I heard you were here… well, I had to come. I killed Charles,” she offered breathlessly, a little sob hiccuping in her voice.
It was a performance worthy of the stage, Warren thought bitterly. “We know that, Frances.”
“But you don’t know why,” she said. “It was Charles who attacked you and he did so because of me. I should never have indulged in such a flirtation with him!”
“It was significantly more than a flirtation, Frances… or at least that’s my understanding,” Warren said. It should have hurt. But in truth, all he felt was relief. Relief that he hadn’t done what she’d accused him of, relief that he would not forever be bound to her by a child they shared.
She fell to her knees in a display that was beyond any dramatic he’d ever witnessed. “Forgive me, Warren. I’m so sorry. But with all your drinking, I was so terribly lonely… I was weak and foolish. Still, you must know that when he attacked you I was horrified. It was a brief moment of weakness! I didn’t love him and I never imagined that he would think it was anything more than that. Please tell me you understand?”
“What happened to Charles, Mrs. Llewellyn?” The magistrate demanded.
Frances began to weep desperately, sobbing into her hands as if she actually possessed the ability to feel remorse. “I confronted him about what he’d done to Warren… and he became so enraged. He attacked me. But I had my sewing basket with me.”
“In the tower?” Warren asked. “Or are we supposed to believe you dragged his body up there by yourself? Or perhaps he went there of his own accord and neatly tucked himself into a trunk to be discovered later?”
“Warren, how can you be so cold?” Frances sobbed. “I was carrying my sewing basket with me when I saw him make for the tower. I followed him because I knew we had to to discuss what had happened. I was encouraging him to turn himself in! But he was so angry and so violent… I feared for my life and for the life of my child. I had no choice.”
The magistrate sighed heavily. “There will be an inquest, Mrs. Llewellyn and I will have to place you under arrest.”
“I understand. That is why I’m here,” she said. “I would never have attempted to conceal the crime if not for my shame at why it occurred. But I know the truth will come out and I have accepted that.”
“Clean yourself up, madame,” the magistrate said, “And I will escort you to Chester where you will be held until the inquest.”
Frances rose and left the room, swaying on her feet in a very melodramatic fashion. If nothing else, she was committed to the performance.
“There is a sanatarium in Chester that is perhaps more suited to a woman in her condition,” Warren remarked. As much as it pained him to come to her defense, she was his wife, for better or worse. And it would be far less scandalous for her to be in the sanatarium than in the jail with common criminals.
The magistrate looked at him as if he were the one who had gone mad. “I will see what I can do, in light of her condition. It speaks to your character, Mr. Llewellyn, that even now, after her confession, you can concern yourself with her welfare and that of the bastard she carries.”
“She is my wife, sir. Any child she bears is, by law, mine and therefore not a bastard. I’ll thank you to remember that.”
The magistrate’s eyes widened in shock, but then he nodded curtly. “Certainly, sir. I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll be discreet in sharing that information.”
21
Adelaide entered the house with Eldren close behind her. They’d walked up from the beach, she exhilarated and he resigned. As they entered, Tromley was there to relieve them of coats and scarves.
“Madame Leola and Lord Mortimer are in the drawing room. I believe that Madame Leola is feeling much improved,” Tromley offered.
“She must be to be up and about,” Eldren remarked.
“Lord Mortimer assisted her,” Tromley said and there was some sort of hidden meaning in his words. Of that, Adelaide was certain.
“Have they asked for tea and refreshments?”
“No, my lady. I believe they were waiting for the two of you to return.”
Adelaide nodded. “Then have a tea tray prepared and sent in. We will join them immediately.”
Leaving the butler to take care of the small details, Adelaide crossed the great hall and moved down the corridor to the drawing room and their waiting guests. Eldren was right behind her. Entering the room, she found Madame Leola sitting in one of the wing chairs near the fireplace. She looked a bit pale, but otherwise appeared to be doing remarkably well.
“This is something of a shock. I did not expect to see you up so very soon,” Adelaide commented.
“I have had great motivation, Lady Montkeith,” Madame Leola said. “Lord Mortimer—John—has proposed to me and I have accepted. As soon as I am well enough, we are to be married.”
Adelaide could not have been more stunned. “What wonderful news! I am so very pleased for you, my friend… and a hearty congratulations to you, Lord Mortimer. I am certain you will be very happy together.”
“Congratulations, indeed,” Eldren seconded. “And my felicitations to you, Madame Leola. If it were a bit later in the day I would suggest ordering something stronger than tea, but given your state of convalescence, that might be overdoing it a bit.”
“Quite, Lord Montkeith,” Madame Leola agreed with a smile. “I am still quite addled from the laudanum. Tea will suit me quite well.”
“Perhaps you would consider marrying here in Machynlleth. On Christmas Eve? I’m certain Father Thomas would be pleased to perform the service,” Adelaide suggested. “And we would host a wedding breakfast for you, but not here. Obviously, given all that has occurred, it’s not a very happy place for people to visit. There is a small set of Assembly Rooms in town that would do nicely.” She moved forward and took the seat next to Madame Leola’s. Reaching out she took the other woman’s hand in her own. For anyone observing them, it would have appeared a gesture of goodwill or affection. But Adelaide felt that same buzzing sensation along her skin as they communicated in a way that defied logic and reason. She saw Madame Leola’s eyebrows raise slightly and then the other woman smiled.
“What a marvelous way to celebrate our marriage,” she replied. “I can think of nothing better. John, will you have friends coming from London?”
“I hardly think so. With the holidays they will no doubt have other plans… but I am not inclined to wait longer than that regardless. I would marry you tomorrow if I thought you could walk down the aisle without my assistance,” he replied.
“Christmas Eve I will not only be able to walk without your assistance, but we will be able to dance. And I mean to. A waltz. I know it’s a wed
ding breakfast, of course, but I think musicians and a bit of dancing would not be remiss. Do you, Lady Montkeith?”
“On the contrary, I think that musicians and dancing should be a requirement,” Adelaide said. “We shall send to Chester for a dressmaker. You must have something suitable to wear as a bride. And we have so many arrangements to make.”
“Yes, we certainly do,” Madame Leola said with complete understanding. “I’ve never looked so forward to the future and all that it might hold. For all of us.”
* * *
Eldren had watched them communicate without words. He knew that Madame Leola had somehow, through the simple act of holding his wife’s hand, had somehow become privy to their plan and all that they had discussed. On the one hand he was fearful of such things, and on the other hand, quite envious. What would it be like to know with a casual touch what she was thinking and feeling?
He had just committed to destroy his ancestral home. They would blow the family seat to smithereens and embark on a new life together far from all the misery that it had created. And despite his misgivings, he also felt something else. Excitement. But they would need to be more careful than ever. They were less than two weeks from Christmas, less than two weeks from carrying out their entire scheme.
A commotion sounded from the hall. Turning, he opened the door in time to see Frances being led down the stairs by the magistrate. She was dressed in a simple gown of black that he seemed to recall had been his wife’s. Her hair was pulled back in a severe fashion and she looked to be quite composed despite the strange circumstances.
“What is going on here?” He asked.
“Mrs. Llewellyn has confessed to the killing of your footman, Lord Montkeith. At the request of her husband, I have agreed to see her held in custody at the sanitarium in Chester rather than in the jail in Machynlleth. If you are in agreement, of course,” the magistrate offered.
“Of course, I’m in agreement. Whatever my feelings for Frances personally, she is a member of this family and she is a woman with child. All necessary care should be taken for her health and comfort,” Eldren agreed. He was still reeling from the notion that she had confessed. Why? And there was still the issue of Madame Leola. “Is that agreeable to you, Madame Leola, and you, Lord Mortimer? Or are there things you wish to discuss with the magistrate before he departs?”
“I think not, Lord Montkeith,” Madame Leola said. “Under the circumstances, I daresay that justice will prevail for Mrs. Llewellyn, regardless of anything I might add.”
Lord Mortimer offered a jerky nod. It was clear he was less enthusiastic about taking his chances on Frances’ receiving appropriate punishment, but he would not go against his betrothed in such a fashion.
“You will keep us apprised of the proceedings and when to expect the inquest?” Eldren asked.
“I will send notice, my lord.”
The short, somber little man led Frances from the house. At the door, she paused to look back at them. It wasn’t fear or hatred, but triumph. In that moment, she believed she had won. Eldren let her, because that was also to their benefit.
“There must be some ulterior motive for her confession,” Lord Mortimer said, expressing what everyone else was thinking.
“I’m certain there is, just as I am equally certain it will be revealed in time,” Eldren replied. Frances never acted without reason. Of that he was certain.
A maid entered bearing a tea tray. Adelaide poured the libation for them. It was all so utterly normal, and not at all as if they were planning the demolition of a centuries old estate and the eradication of an evil entity in the process. How had his life become so very strange?
Eldren glanced at Adelaide, caught her sweet smile, and thought it didn’t really matter. Strange as it all was, he was happy for perhaps the first time in his life, he thought. And if that meant bringing an end to all that had come before, so be it.
“May this be the happiest of Christmases, for all of us,” he offered.
“It will. It certainly will,” Adelaide replied and placed her hand over his.
Author’s Note
Thank you all again for taking a chance on this very unique story structure. I’ve written serials in the past, but certainly never of this scope and length where each section is novel length on its own. I hope you’re enjoying it and I promise to write as quickly as possible.
Thank you,
Chasity Bowlin
Also by Chasity Bowlin
THE DARK REGENCY SERIES, PART ONE
The Haunting of a Duke
The Redemption of a Rogue
The Enticement of an Earl
THE DARK REGENCY SERIES, PART TWO
A Love So Dark
A Passion So Strong
A Heart So Wicked
STANDALONE
The Beast of Bath
The Last Offer
Worth the Wait
THE LOST LORDS SERIES
The Lost Lord of Castle Black
The Vanishing of Lord Vale
The Missing Marquess of Althorn
The Resurrection of Lady
The Mystery of Miss Mason
The Awakening of Lord Ambrose (coming soon)
THE VICTORIAN GOTHIC COLLECTION
House of Shadows
Veil of Shadows
Passage of Shadows (coming soon)
AND COMING IN 2019, A NEW SERIES FROM
CHASITY BOWLIN AND DRAGONBLADE PUBLISHING:
The Hellion Club
About the Author
Chasity Bowlin lives in central Kentucky with her husband and their menagerie of animals. She loves writing, loves traveling and enjoys incorporating tidbits of her actual vacations into her books. She is an avid Anglophile, loving all things British, but specifically all things Regency.
Growing up in Tennessee, spending as much time as possible with her doting grandparents, soap operas were a part of her daily existence, followed by back to back episodes of Scooby Doo. Her path to becoming a romance novelist was set when, rather than simply have her Barbie dolls cruise around in a pink convertible, they time traveled, hosted lavish dinner parties and one even had an evil twin locked in the attic.
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