The Haunted Knight 0f Lady Canterley

by Patricia Haverton

  “Tristan,” she whispered again, grabbing ahold of the neck of his shirt as if to tether herself to reality.

  “Amelia,” he murmured stirring from slumber. He moved to kneel over her placing his hand upon her forehead to check for fever. “How fare you?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern for her wellbeing.

  “I have been better,” she murmured.

  “I should say so,” he smiled down at her smoothing her brow. “’Tis good to see you stepping away from death’s door, instead of through it.”

  “What happened?” She looked about her attempting to remember how she had come to be in the room she found herself in.

  “You were poisoned. Camphor.”

  “Poisoned?” She thought back to when such a thing could have happened. “My tea” she whispered. “I thought it to be a bit more bitter than was usual even for an inn of such poor quality. It never occurred to me that it could have been poisoned. A warning from those who took Grace?”

  “It would appear so, though whether a warning or an intentional attempt on your life I do not know. I have yet to discover any further information on the matter. I have not left your side since you fell ill upon the road.”

  “And Fergus?”

  “He has returned to Canterley to tell your brother of what has happened.”

  “Any word of Grace?”

  “Nay, we have heard nothing else.”

  Amelia closed her eyes in agony. “How long have I been here?”

  “But days,” Tristan shook his head.

  “Father? Henry?”

  “No further word on their account either.”

  A tear fell down her cheek to mingle with her hair before disappearing from sight. Tristan reached out and swept the dampened path from her cheek. She attempted to rise but was too weak to complete the task. “Shh, rest. Let them commit their concerns to your sister’s care. For now, you must focus your attentions upon your own recovery. You will not be of use to anyone until you heal.”

  Amelia shook her head in denial. “I cannot remain here while Grace is still out there somewhere suffering at the hands of those vile men.”

  “And yet you cannot continue to search for her, or you risk her death. You have nothing else to do but heal, whether you care for the task or nay.”

  “I do not care for it at all.” Amelia felt the anger over her helplessness against defeating their hidden foe begin to take over her once more, her worry for her sister choking the air from her lungs.

  Tristan chuckled. “A fact that is clear for all to see, but a necessary sacrifice if you wish to ever lay eyes upon your family again. You cannot offer aid to anyone if you are dead having expired from the effort.”

  “My desires are not humorous, Tristan,” she chastised him for his response.

  “Nay, it is not, but my amusement is born of affection not malice.”

  Amelia sighed feeling guilty for her sharp response. “My apologies. I know that you only wish me well.” She closed her eyes in resignation of her current fate.

  “I know it is an impossible thing that is asked of you, to cease looking for your sister, in favor of your own wellbeing, but there is no other choice for it.” Sighing, he arose and moved toward the door. “I will call for food. Rest and we will return to Canterley when you are able.”

  Tristan left the room. Amelia turned her gaze to the ceiling, clenching her fists at her sides. She knew Tristan was right, but it did not make the truth any easier to accept. How can a man live with himself after having done such a thing? To kidnap and to poison defenseless women is beyond understanding. The acts of desperate men all for the love of wealth? Or are there more devious means afoot? The foes of my father or even Henry perhaps? Amelia cast her mind through the list of her father’s possible enemies but fell short of anyone capable of such.

  Her father was a respected man among his peers with little to be said in the wrong as to his character. His reserved nature which had cause estrangement between he and Amelia, was in reality a desired characteristic among the most revered members of the ton. His deeds, ever beyond reproach, had left him with nothing but admiration among his peers. Henry too was an even more beloved nobleman than her father, cherished above nearly all others for his kindness and charity, leaving their foes few.

  All for the love of wealth then. She shook her head in disgust.

  Thoughts of money caused her to pause. Poison would have need to be purchased. Such a purchase could be traced to the man who made it were the apothecary found. If the poisoning happened at the last inn or at Slantonshire it should be easy enough to find such as apothecaries are in abundance in the region. I wouldst need to send a servant unbeknownst to the kidnappers to be in my family’s employ to avoid detection of my inquiries. They have forbidden my searching for Grace. They said nothing of pursuing those who might have poisoned me.

  When Tristan returned, Amelia shared her thoughts with him. “Has your poisoning taught you nothing,” he asked in disbelief, “that you would rush headlong into danger once more? Do you doubt your father and Henry to such an extent that you cannot allow them to deal with the matter as they see fit by paying the ransom? I know you to be head strong, but I never thought you to be as foolish as what you have shown me in recent days.”

  “It is not foolish to love a sister. It is not foolish to seek her release. It is not foolish to desire justice.”

  “You have barely survived an attempt on your life and yet you continue to fight an invisible foe as if they lay within your grasp. No matter the reasoning I have presented to you to cease from placing yourself and your sister in further danger, you refuse to listen. I fear your wits have been overly addled by wine and laudanum.”

  “For you to believe such a thing shows that you know me not at all.”

  “I know you better than most.”

  “You know nothing.”

  Tristan gazed down at her equal parts anger and concern marring his brow. “Clearly.” He shoved a bowl of broth into her hands and left the room once more. She knew she had upset him and that he spoke reason, yet she could no sooner set aside her need to continue on as he could his need to protect her from herself.

  Amelia placed the bowl of broth to her lips and drank deeply in hopes that she might regain her strength as quickly as possible. Her stomach rolled and seized as the broth hit it causing her to feel as if she had been struck. The poison had left its mark, so too had its remedy. She moved to the side of the bed and expelled the contents of her stomach into the bowl that she found there clearly having been used previously for just such a purpose.

  The innkeeper’s wife entered carrying a plate of bread and cheese. “Oh, you poor dear.” She rushed forward aiding Amelia in lying back upon the bed. She dipped a cloth in water and bathed Amelia’s face, murmuring soothing words. Unable to hold down food or drink, Amelia drifted off back into the world of darkness and dreams.

  I will discover who has done this with or without Tristan’s blessing.

  Chapter 14

  Tristan sat in the inn’s tavern drinking ale in an attempt to drown his frustrations. The woman is impossible, he fumed silently. He thought over all that she had said and agreed that such an effort might produce results and yet he could not allow her to put herself at further risk. Once I have seen her safely to Canterley, I will go and make inquiries on her behalf. Perhaps my offer to do so will sate her need for recklessness.

  Needing space to breathe before they would have said things they both would have regretted, he had requested the innkeeper’s wife to attend to Amelia’s needs. His love for her clouded his judgement and his words, as hers for her sister did her own. It had always been thus, he loving her, her loving only her family. He knew all too well that such familial love was the only kind that she believed herself capable of, and yet he knew her to be more than capable if she would only choose to accept it.

  His blood pumped furiously through his veins as he thought of the men responsible for harming her. He longed to wit
ness them fall, rendered the appropriate justice for their misdeeds, just as much as she did, but not at the risk of further harm to the ladies of Canterley. Her determination was unparalleled. God’s teeth but the woman defies all reason!

  He took another drink attempting to forget the harsh words they had exchanged. Tristan was not a querulous man by nature, but Amelia had always brought out a passion in him that existed for no other. In spite of his arguing for her to leave the deed to her father and Henry, had it been Amelia who had been taken Tristan would have felt much the same as she did now not wishing to cease in the search for any reason. He would have done all in his power to retrieve her even at the cost of his own life.

  I would not allow any man to dissuade me from my purpose and cannot cast blame on her for speaking such harsh words in response to my hindering her from her purpose. I know I offer her little comfort as she lays in torment, her heart feeling as if it has been ripped from her chest. Were it not for my own love I might let her do as she pleases, but as it is I cannot.

  Tristan spent the remainder of the day and night away from Amelia’s side in an effort to allow her time to see reason and cool her temper. When morning dawned, he arose in hopes that she might have recovered enough to be transported to Canterley via wagon. The surgeon had returned and reassured Tristan that the poison was indeed out of Amelia’s system and that she recovered quickly from her brush with death. The effects of the wine and laudanum becoming nothing but memory.

  After arranging the wagon, Tristan went to retrieve Amelia, the innkeeper’s wife having aided in her preparation to leave at the break of day. When he entered the room, he found it to be empty. “Amelia?” he questioned the shadows around him. “Amelia!?”

  “The Lady Amelia has gone, Your Lordship,” the innkeeper’s son informed him coming up from behind.

  “What? When?” he demanded grabbing the boy by his collar.

  “At first light, My Lord.” The boy looked up at him in fear and Tristan quickly released him ashamed that he had let his emotions get the better of him.

  “And did Lady Amelia say where she was going?”

  “Nay, My Lord, she did not.” The boy shook his head then scurried away afraid that he might be punished for being the messenger of such bad tidings.

  “By the saints, Amelia,” he growled in frustration. He was angry with himself for not predicting her unannounced departure sooner. He had thought her too weak from illness to move of her own accord, but he had underestimated her. Sighing, he closed his eyes rubbing his temples. Opening them he turned toward the stables.

  “I seek the Lady Amelia’s horse.”

  “It is gone, My Lord. She has taken it.”

  “When I ordered the wagon ready, why was I not told that Lady Amelia had departed?” he questioned the stable hand.

  “I was unaware that you required such knowledge, My Lord.”

  Tristan clenched his teeth in anger. “Where did she go?”

  “I do not know, My Lord.”

  “Which direction did she ride?”

  “North, My Lord.”

  “How did she look to you?”

  “Unsteady at best, My Lord, but she would not see reason and rode out against my advice.”

  “Saddle my horse. There will be no need of the wagon as I had previously wished.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  Tristan had planned to return for their horses when he had returned the wagon, but now there would be no need of such plans. He could not imagine Amelia holding enough strength to remain atop a horse and half expected to find her unconscious upon the road. Once ready, he leapt into the saddle and headed out in the direction that Amelia had taken.

  * * *

  Amelia clung to the back of her horse, her vision fading in and out. She had lashed herself to the saddle so that she might not fall from it. She had not been ready to travel, but when the innkeeper’s wife had informed her that it was Tristan’s intent to take her home, she had been forced to act, for once she had been returned to Canterley her father would never have allowed her to leave again. Tristan had refused to harken to her desires and so she had been forced to take matters into her own hands.

  In spite of her difficulties, she urged her horse northward determined to free herself from the restraints of men who would keep her from her purpose. She had dressed herself in the garb of a man once more, even though it had afforded her little protection from being recognized enough to be poisoned. She needed to find an apothecary and felt that the best way to do so would be to return to the village where they had last stayed. She wished that she had a servant to do her bidding but could not delay.

  Somewhere along the way Amelia lost consciousness. She was not certain how long she had been unaware, but when she awoke, she found her horse had left the road and traveled through the forest. She plodded through dappled shadows toward what she did not know. I have acted rashly once more and pay the consequences.

  Amelia searched the trees for any sign that she might not be alone and found none. She attempted to find her bearings and seeing the side of the trees that the moss grew on knew that she continued northward. She was grateful to Fergus for teaching her such things along their journey. Thirst parched her lips and she fumbled with the flask in her jacket pocket. Her hands trembled as she brought it to her lips and drank deeply. Pocketing it once more, she turned back toward the road.

  She prayed that no further brigands would fall upon her in her weakened state. She knew that she risked all in her pursuit, but once she had realized that she stood a chance to ascertain her attacker, and through it find her sister’s kidnappers, she could no sooner have stayed the sun in the sky. She knew that Tristan would pursue her, and she feared that he might overtake her before her task was done, but she had long since lost all sense of reason on the matter.

  I have been controlled by the will of men my entire existence upon this earth, but in this matter, I would defy God himself to stay my hand.

  As she traveled, her vision again began to grow dim and she lost all sense of herself once more. I am a fool, she lamented her damaged state as darkness overtook her, helpless to keep it at bay.

  * * *

  Tristan traveled north ever searching the ground and horizon for signs of Amelia’s passing. The memory of her last sojourn alone flashed through his mind further rousing his worry for her wellbeing. The faces of the men who had attacked her, then were felled by his hand, filled his mind painted red with their blood. Where are you, Amelia? He feared that the combination of poison, wine, and laudanum had addled her wits to such a state that she no longer knew what she did.

  When he reached the village where they had stayed the night, he made inquiries at the inn for Amelia’s whereabouts, but no one had seen her since the night that they were there together. He continued to look throughout the village and found no sign of her having been there. He sought out the local physician and inquired about Amelia, as well as the purchase of camphor, but met with nothing.

  Tristan began to doubt his initial assessment that she would first return to the village and instead turned his thoughts toward Slantonshire. Perhaps she has sought the aid she believed me to refuse from Henry. Mounting his horse once more, he rode north toward Henry’s estate.

  Upon arrival to Slantonshire, Tristan was greeted by a very surprised Duke. “Tristan? What brings you here so soon after departure? Has something happened? Have you had word of Grace? Where is Amelia? Tell me she is not dead.”

  “She is not here?”

  “Nay. Should she be?”

  “Then I have good and truly lost her.” Tristan’s heart constricted in his chest. “She has run off in pursuit of the men who poisoned her.”

  “I received your letter and have made inquiries among my people, as well as with the nearest healer, none know anything of her poisoning.”

  “I fear she knows not what she does. The remedy for the poison was nearly as harmful as the poison itself.”

  “That is disconcer
ting indeed. I offer you my hospitality this night and my aid in your search upon the morrow.”

  “I gratefully accept, but I fear that sleep will be short in coming.”

  “As it is for us all these past days. Come, rest. We will set out at first light.”

  “I can only pray that where ever she may be, she is alive and well for anything else is beyond fathom.”