Ravenworthe

by Ginny Hartman

  All three men slowly turned and watched with wide eyes as Mr. Townsend and Mrs. Godwin stood across the room, Mr. Townsend armed with a pistol that was pointed directly at them.

  “I've been waiting for you, brother,” Mr. Townsend said, his voice eerily calm.

  The three men looked at each other with veiled concern.

  “Brother?” Colin asked, his hand clenched tightly to the dagger in his hand, knowing it would be no match for the pistol in his.

  Mr. Townsend laughed. “He hasn't figured it out yet, Margaret.”

  “Apparently, he's not as clever as everyone thinks.”

  Colin's mind was swept away in a vision as a piece of the puzzle quickly began to bind together. When he snapped out of it, he went on the defense, very much detesting their insulting comments.

  “Actually, I've figured it all out, that's why we're here. You two have been having an affair that has been going on for years. Mr. Townsend has been using you, Mrs. Godwin, to gain access to your late husband's money. You told him about the key to access his funds and schemed together to create a false one, using an accomplished jeweler who also happens to be Mr. Townsend's uncle. When you found out the replica was deemed a false, you went mad, Mr. Townsend, and poisoned Elias in his study the night you came to London. You then carried him to his bedchamber and were going to claim he died in his sleep. Am I correct so far?”

  All eyes in the room stared at him, a mixture of fascination and horror, but no one dared respond to his inquiry, so he continued, “However when you broke the news to Margaret that the dagger didn't work, it was her who went insane. In her rage, she stabbed Elias over and over again, a vicious and hateful act to the deceased. And to cover up her involvement, she lured Beatrice to the bedchamber and framed her for the murder instead, attempting to clear both of your names in the process.”

  The silence in the room was thick until Mr. Townsend spoke. “How adroit, but you've missed some very important points.”

  “Enlighten me then.”

  “It was me, not Margaret, that manipulated Beatrice. The child had long ago given up on listening to her mother, but a handsome young man that flooded her with attention was much, much harder to resist. I invited her to my bedchamber that night, a prospect that made her giddy with anticipation. That's when I took her to her father's bedchamber, and the rest you could say is history.”

  The evilness behind the dark eyes was repulsive. “And then you attempted to kill Jasper to gain access to Godwin and Lloyd.”

  “Naturally,” Mr. Townsend agreed, no emotion in his voice. “Then, we planned to bury him in the garden next to your mother and sister.”

  Colin inhaled sharply, pains of disgust and repulsion stabbing him in the gut. “How'd you know about them? My sister and mother, I mean?”

  So absorbed was he in the conversation, Colin missed Walter sneaking slowly to the outer edge of the attic, as stealthily as a cat yet as quiet as a mouse.

  “You mean Father never told you about me?” Mr. Townsend asked derisorily. “He never told you that you have a younger half-brother?”

  Colin's knees went weak. “You lie.”

  “Unfortunately, I do not. I inherited many loathsome traits from him, murder included, but lying was never one of them. Perhaps you've inherited a few vices yourself?”

  “You lie,” he repeated again, not knowing what else to say. His mind was in shock; the whole event seemed surreal.

  “He has proof,” Margaret stated coolly, enjoying adding to the pain that was being inflicted on him.

  Unwilling to hear more, Colin turned to Nash and commanded, “Bind them,” but realized his partner had disappeared.

  Colin felt himself slipping into the dark recesses of his mind, hating how he was forced to face things he'd rather have left buried. Mr. Townsend seemed to sense his distress and found satisfaction in prying further into his pain.

  “Your mother learned about me shortly before Lily died. To say she was angry would be a vast understatement. The news of her husband fathering a bastard child was blow enough, but to learn the reason he'd left her the day your sister was born was so he could be at his mistress's side while she delivered that child was most crushing.” He paused just briefly in his verbal assault to inhale before continuing, “She repeatedly threatened to leave Father and take both of you with her.”

  The emotions clogging Colin's throat were painful, but he somehow managed to swallow past them as he recalled his mother's sorrow when she'd had Lily while his father was away. With new eyes, he looked at the evil man claiming to be his brother, realizing he was nearly the identical age Lily would have been had she lived.

  “How do you know any of this?” Colin seethed, disgust in every word.

  Mr. Townsend ignored him and continued, “Father had actually found tickets she'd purchased, passage to America, the day before the drowning. He took her distress at losing Lily as an opportunity to kill her and cover it up by making it look as if she'd taken her own life, the guilt at what had happened consuming her.”

  No matter the fact that he tried so desperately to ignore the man's cruel words, there was a part of him that wondered at their truth. “Father would never do that,” he tried once more to defend the man who'd raised him, though his argument sounded considerably weaker this time.

  “Oh, but he did.”

  “And he boasted of it to you? For what purpose?”

  “Oh no, he hardly ever spoke to me, but he did will me Ravenworthe Manor when he left and took you to London. He made the mistake of not destroying the evidence of his crime. I found his diary,” Mr. Townsend explained, “locked away in a safe hidden in the wall behind your mother's portrait. It detailed all of it, including the moment you ran to the attic and the fear he felt as he hid in a dark corner, worried you'd discover his presence.”

  Pounding, erratic pounding beat in his ears. His head throbbed as he felt as if he were caught in one of his nightmares, though he was completely awake. Within moments the pounding evened out and became a slow and steady rhythm, the cadence that always frightened him the most, and all of a sudden, the beating of his heart was transformed into footsteps, his father's boots treading slowly, rhythmically over the hardwood floor. There was a brief moment when the footsteps ceased but after a time, they resumed once more along with the crippling fear of his childhood.

  Colin remembered with greater clarity than ever before that fateful night. He had been awoken by something, and the darkness surrounding him scared him. He went to cry out for his mother but was filled with guilt, not wanting to bother her in her grief, so instead, he laid as still as possible, hoping he would fall back

  asleep, but he never did.

  He remembered all too well the fear and anxiety that grew within him as he attempted to count sheep as a distraction until he heard a loud bang above his room. He cried out for his mother then, but she never came.

  He remembered something now, something he had clearly blocked from his mind all those years ago. He'd heard footsteps above after the bang, slow, even footsteps, which prompted him to bravely crawl from his bed and ascend to the attic only to discover his mother hanging from the rafters.

  His father had been there the entire time. The thought made him ill.

  “You've tortured him enough, dear,” Margaret said impatiently. “Let's us be rid of him now so we can get on with our day.”

  Colin raised the dagger and made to charge at the same time the pistol fired. He closed his eyes, anticipating a ball ripping into his skin but instead felt shards of wood pour atop his head along with a generous portion of dust and grime. He glanced up to see the ball had hit the ceiling above instead of its intended target, him.

  Nash had snuck up behind Mr. Townsend and was in the process of wrestling him to the ground. His swift moves had saved Colin's life. Meanwhile, Walter had taken Margaret into his arms and was working furiously to bind her wrists with the rope that had been severed from Jasper's neck.

  Colin shoved th
e revelations down inside of him so he could think clearly as he went to Walter and helped secure Margaret's bindings before cutting off a generous portion of leftover rope which he gave to Nash to use on Mr. Townsend, who was putting up a much larger fight than Mrs. Godwin had.

  Nash struggled with the man as he commanded, “Get the pistol from his hand.”

  Colin quickly obliged then deftly wrapped the rope around his wrists as Nash held them forcefully behind his back. When the odious pair refused to quit spewing obscenities at them, Colin hastily removed his cravat and used it to gag Mr. Townsend then instructed Walter to do the same to Mrs. Godwin.

  It took great effort to get the pair to the carriage. With Walter and Nash overseeing them, there was no room left inside for either Colin or Jasper.

  “We will hire a hackney to get back to London,” Colin explained before adding, “Good work, men.”

  He and Jasper stood watching the carriage roll out of sight with relief, grateful he wouldn't be trapped in the small confines of the equipage with those vile creatures for the next two days.

  Colin let the cool air embrace his balmy skin as he breathed deeply, trying to make sense of the overpowering emotions threatening to destroy him. His father had killed his mother, and he hadn't been able to stop him.

  The thought made him ill. Unable to cope with the newfound knowledge, Colin turned towards the manor house he'd come to loathe and bent over, retching violently and uncontrollably on the walk, wishing he could rid his body and his mind of the horrendous discovery as easily as he had the contents of his stomach.

  It would be nearly an hour before a carriage could reach Ravenworthe Manor, leaving Colin surrounded by the horror of what had transpired there. He wanted to run as far and as fast as he could away from the place that represented so much pain but knew he couldn't. He couldn't leave Jasper. Instead, he decided to climb the small knoll towards the garden where his mother and Lily were buried.

  Jasper silently walked with him, and Colin didn't have the heart to ask him to leave him be, seeing as how he'd just endured his own trauma, so the pair continued on to the graves. Small stone markers had been placed above each mound. Colin slid to his knees before them and tenderly traced the names on each of them, he heart breaking anew

  “The revelations of this day seem too great to bear,” Jasper whispered behind him.

  Colin knew he was referring to what they had both learned in regard to their respective families. “Indeed, it feels so.”

  “I loathe myself for bringing Mr. Townsend to London. If I had refused, Elias would still be alive.”

  “Maybe for now, but he would've sought his revenge eventually, I'm certain. I'm just glad you hadn't become his victim as well.”

  “I'm indebted to you, Ravenworthe. I owe you my life and will make sure to compensate you greatly for your service to me.”

  “That's unnecessary, sir.”

  “There has to be something I can do to reward you. What of Bridget? Would it please you if I consented to giving you her hand?”

  Colin rose from the ground, brushing the dirt from the knees of his tan breeches. “I only want her if she gives herself to me of her own free will, though I doubt she'll want to align herself with me once she learns the truth of my parentage.”

  Jasper clapped him on his back as they turned from the graves and began walking back to the house. “Yes, because she has such stellar family connections. Do not discredit her and deem her shallow, because I can assure you, she is not.”

  He knew that logically, but the events of the day had put up a block in his mind, a wall around his heart. He felt numb yet betrayed and couldn't make sense of it. How could the man who had raised him, however sloppily thanks to his penchant for drinking, be the same man that had killed his mother, the woman he'd loved more than anyone?

  The drive back to London was long and dismal, and the prospect of seeing Bridget didn't even lift his spirits. When they arrived at his Townhouse, he went straight for his study and shut himself inside. Pulling a small portrait of his parents off the shelf, he looked at the pair with new eyes, rage seething through him. The picture had been painted a few years after they had wed, and the way they were looking at each other implied they were happy and in love. Anger welled up in him as he hit the frame against his desk, shattering the glass.

  His fingers shook as he picked through the glass to retrieve the small painting, acquiring a small, superficial cut to his finger as he did so. Taking the picture in his hand, he ripped it in half and crumbled his father's face angrily in his hand before tossing it into the fire and watching it burn.

  His jaw twitched with emotion he tried to hold back as he reverently stroked his mother's face until a drop of blood from his cut fell on it and smudged the portrait along with her beauty. Colin discarded the picture in disgust as tears openly fell from his face, pooling on the desk below.

  Ignoring the soft knocking on the door, he closed his eyes and willed whoever it was away. He wasn't fit for company. But unfortunately, the person didn't take the hint and slowly opened the door instead. Colin refused to look up, the motion seemingly too much to bear.

  “Oh, Colin,” he heard Bridget gasp softly as she hurried to him and took his head into her arms, pressing his face to her breasts. “Uncle Jasper told me what happened.”

  Her fingers stroked his face, wiping the warm tears from his cheeks. Her kindness only made him feel like a cad; she was comforting him when it should be the other way around. He reached for her hand and held it tightly against his face. “You shouldn't worry about me, it is you that has suffered a great deal, and today's news must leave you reeling as well.”

  “I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm quite shocked by the news of my mother, but you must see that I'm also quite relieved to know that Beatrice is free, free from the horrible accusations and free from people who have manipulated her for their own vile purposes. She will be safe from here on out because I insist on seeing to her care personally from now on.”

  “A noble feat and a blessed one for Beatrice. Where will you go?”

  “Uncle Jasper has agreed to see to our care. That is unless a more tempting offer presents itself.”

  Colin looked into her blue eyes, crystal clear with meaning. Her vulnerability touched him and prompted his own. “I must confess my heart desires nothing more, yet I feel unworthy of such a gift. What if I—”

  “Don't even say it,” she cried, pressing her finger to his lips. “Don't even imply that you could become anything like your father or that vile Mr. Townsend. You may share blood with both of them, but your character is so far removed from either of them it's nearly laughable. You use your gifts to seek justice for others not to manipulate and degrade while in the pursuit of self. You are nothing like your kin just as I am nothing like mine. Do you afear that I could end up like my mother someday?”

  “Most certainly not,” he said with disgust. “You're too good, too kind.”

  “As are you. You've already risen above the legacy they've left you and will continue to do so. And with your example, I hope to do the same.” Bridget withdrew from him then, leaving him feeling cold and bereft. “But I will not force myself upon you, Mr. Ravenworthe, I will not.”

  Colin rose to his feet and went to where she waited, so very still and uncertain. He reached for her face and held it tenderly in his hands as he forced her eyes upwards with the tilt of her chin. “My love, you will never have to force my affections, for I want you completely and find I've grown madly in love with you. It would be the highest of honors if you'd agree to become my wife.”

  “Two lonely souls brought together by tragedy, bound by love.”

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, a grin spreading on his face

  “Most assuredly.”

  Colin bent over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, relishing the feel of her warm body in his arms. Something good had come out of all this tragedy, and for that, he was grateful.

  A knock on the door interrupt
ed their tender moment. Bridget quickly pulled away and adjusted her skirts as she looked towards the door.

  “Come in,” Colin called out and waited for Jasper to enter the study.

  “Is it official?” he asked, his eyes flicking between the two.

  Colin turned to see Bridget's cheeks redden. “Uncle, don't be so indelicate.”

  Jasper harrumphed. “I simply wish to be informed. You mentioned you thought Mr. Ravenworthe might ask for your hand. Well, has he?”

  Unwilling to watch Bridget squirm any longer, Colin quickly spoke, “Indeed, I have, and to my great delight, she's accepted. When her mourning period is up, we shall have the banns read and be wed.”

  Beside him, Bridget gasped in horror. “Must we wait so long?”

  Colin took her hands and gazed upon her tenderly. “I do not wish it, but it's customary.”

  “Nothing about your association has been customary. If you want my advice, I suggest you quit London as soon as possible and be wed by special license. The rumor mill is vicious and will certainly try to destroy you regardless of what you do. I have my work cut out for me with Godwin and Lloyd as it is, hoping to salvage the business in spite of the scandal. I cannot worry about keeping tabs on you and Beatrice at the same time.”

  “Are you trying to be rid of us?” Bridget asked wryly.

  It was Jasper's turn to color. He went to pull at his cravat before realizing he wasn't wearing one since his neck was still raw from where the rope had cut into it. “Nay, child, just trying to do what is best for all of us. Your dowry is still in place,” he noted while turning to Colin and giving him a wink, “and it's quite generous indeed. You will find that to your liking, Mr. Ravenworthe, I'm certain.” Turning back to Bridget, he added, “And as far as lodging goes, do not forget that you've inherited Rottborne in East Sussex, which isn't as large as Esplin House, but is still quite lovely.”

  “But what of your business?” Bridget asked Colin, concern filling her voice. “You are established here in London; your services are in high demand. If we remove ourselves to East Sussex, you will have nothing.”