In the Shadows (The Blaisdell Chronicles) (12 page)

“Still calling me that, are you?” he sneered. The man was intoxicated, his speech slurred. Shadows raining over his form in black streaks only made him seem more intimidating. I knew full well what could happen if I irritated him. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, tensing my body, trying to banish the memories that were replaying in my mind.

A scratch sounded, and I looked to see his face illuminated, as he lit his cigarette. The light from his match created a wall of flames before my eyes, and suddenly I was back inside my old house.
             

Roger called for Mum through the letterbox, but she was hiding upstairs, unable to see him in his drunken state. She’d ordered me to keep quiet, hoping he’d think we weren’t in. He screeched curses, and I tried looking for my mobile phone. I saw it on the dressing table, but the gushing sound of liquid being poured caught my attention. I crept downstairs and stood on the last step. A dark wet stain by the doormat, and only when the lit match flew in through the letterbox did I recognise what was happening. But it was too late. The fire was soon licking its way towards me up the stairs. Gasping in fear, I ran back upstairs. I found Mum in my bedroom, in no fit state, mumbling nonsense. I shook her by the shoulders and yelled. Once I’d finally gotten through to her, she realised what was happening. I tried my mobile phone, but the battery was dead. Mum said not to worry and that everything would be all right. Opening the window, she jumped down, landing on the garage roof, and slipped down onto the ground. She made it. I was ready to do the same, but the smoke was already snaking under my door, and it was harder to breathe. Sweat beaded across my brow, tickling my skin. The fire began burning through the door, and I looked at my freedom, only for everything to disappear.

Roger blocked my exit, and Mum wasn’t here to help me anymore. He pursed his lips, smoothing his stubbly chin with short fingers.

“You’ve been working at Whitmore’s a few weeks, haven’t you?”

He’d been following me?

“I wanted to make amends, but you chose to ignore my letters from prison and you didn’t show up at home.”

“I wasn’t ready.”

“
Not ready? Bloody hell, Lucy! I’ve not been in your life for three years. How much longer do you need?”

I pressed my lips together. “Mum thought you wouldn’t be out so soon.”

“Did she now?” He seemed amused by this. “Well, Louise should have told the police how much of a
bad
husband I was. I told them I wasn’t aware you were inside when I did it. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a murderer.”

So he’d burned the house down anyway? Why? Had he been trying to scare Mum back into his arms?

“Is she happy?” he asked.

I looked up, focusing on his cigarette smoke casting grey swirls into the dark night sky.

“With this, err, Eric?”

Nerves made my voice tremble, as I hesitantly tried to meet his gaze. “His name is Derek. And, yes she is happy.”

Roger sighed heavily, his words weighing heavily. “You know, this isn’t easy for me. I come out of prison and find your mother is still shacked up with Hugh Hefner. I wanted to make amends, but it’s all too late. And then, you’re here. You look so beautiful and grown up. Your life is sorted now. But mine’s still a mess.”

My eyes had adjusted enough to see Roger’s growing rage. His face was an angry red, the vein in his neck pulsing hungrily. His eyes were searching.

“I need a drink. Do you have any money?”

I shook my head. “I’m not giving you money for alcohol.”

“Why not?! I’m old enough to drink!” he complained, childlike.

“Because I can smell it on your breath. You’ve had enough already,” I whispered. “You should go home and sleep it off.”

My arm burned when he grabbed my wrist. “Damn it, Lucy! You’re just like your mother! You’ve no right telling me what to do! Just give me the bloody money!” His snarling face made me shrink back into the shadows, like the darkness could suddenly protect me, but he held me firm. Noticing me wince, he managed to regain some sort of composure and released me, stepping back, hands in the air. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that I
really
need it.”

I caressed my wrist, easing the pain that nipped it. Still puffing his cigarette, Roger turned briefly, grunting and muttering under his breath. He was struggling to maintain his cool again. I wanted to run, but I was too scared to move. Clasping the back of his neck, I could see the tension in his fingers. He swung around to face me, his black eyes vacant. Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like a doll. The whites of his eyes swelled up with his anger.

“You think this is funny?”

“
But I didn’t—”

“I need the money, and you’re holding onto it! Stop being so selfish, Lucy, and give it to me, NOW!”

“No!” I held onto my bag even tighter. I wouldn’t have a part in his downward spiral.

My final defiance made him try to lunge for me, but spying the cigarette still in his mouth, I quickly yanked it out and stabbed it into his cheek. He yelped, and fell backwards, clutching his face and calling out obscenities. I tried running away, but two hands clamped my ankles. My body landed with a hard thump, as he scraped my stomach over the pavement, before rolling me over to find my bag tucked under my arms. I cried out, no longer caring.

“Here!” I threw my bag over his shoulder, and his weight came off of me, reaching out for the bag. I tried to fight the tears building in my eyes. “Just take the money and get out of my life!”

Roger desperately opened my bag, emptying the contents on the pavement, finding the purse and grabbing the coins inside.

“Is that it?! Where’s the hell’s the rest?” he bellowed.

I had no time to run, for he was on top of me again, searching my pockets, whilst I cried out my defiance. He pulled me up by the scruff of my neck, and I saw the addiction that consumed him. He didn’t see his daughter, only someone withholding what he desperately wanted. Beads of sweat formed along his brow, and the stench of stale whisky on his breath made me want to vomit. I shut my eyes and awaited my sentence.

“Lucy!”

Tyres screeched to a halt and the driver leapt out of the car.
Roger glanced over his shoulder, and was thrown off of me. The newcomer stood with his back to me, his tall frame leaning over Roger, who lay in a dishevelled heap on the pavement. Roger tried challenging him, only to be knocked backwards into a lamppost. Roger slumped down, and panic shot through my veins.

Nathan bent to pick Roger up, slinging him over his shoulder, as if he was a mere sack of potatoes. A low snore came from him, just as Nathan bundled him into the back seat of his car.

“Get in,” came Nathan’s voice, heading to the driver’s side.

I stared right at him, this tall, imposing man, whose pose was as hard as stone. My resolve crumbled, and tears broke free, unable to hold back anymore.

Without hesitation, he marched over, lifting me into his arms, but not in the way he had with Roger. He carried me like a knight would rescue a damsel in distress. Angry, I beat my fists into his chest, but he didn’t even flinch. Exhausted, mentally and physically, I stopped, as he strapped me into the passenger’s seat. He met my gaze, and the ice in his eyes seemed to melt away. His fingers pulled an errant lock of my hair away from my face, as his knuckles lingered over my cheekbones. I could feel the energy building inside like an inferno, and my lips parted in invitation. His head dipped closer, and I closed my eyes.

But nothing happened. I opened my eyes.

“Nathan?”

A groan came from the back seat, followed by a low snore.

“You need rest. Relax. I’ll take care of everything.”

I open my curtains and greet the day, hoping to feel the warm sun’s rays on my face, but today it has become cloudy. This does not spoil my day, and I cannot stop thinking about Jonathan, keen to be in his arms again, for my heart bleeds without him. Edith groans about my happiness as she dresses my hair, but I do not care, for I now understand what the poets write about. 

At home, I try to calm myself in the drawing room, with a cup of tea and some of Edith’s lemon cakes, but I am unable to banish my fears. I’m ready to retire upstairs for a nap, when Wilkins opens the door.

“Beg your pardon, my lady, but you have a visitor.”

I frown in confusion. I have no friends who call on me, and can’t withstand any more poorly recited poetry, or ridiculous fawning.

“Tell them I’m not home.” I wave my hand dismissively, but Wilkins presses on.

“Forgive me, my lady, but
she was most insistent.”

Seeing the flush in Wilkins’ face, I give a small nod and re-enter the drawing room. Standing by the long, ornate window, I gaze outside. Who is this woman? Is it a desperate mother wanting to push her son unto me? However shall I be rid of her? I clutch the velvet curtain tightly, holding my breath when I hear the footsteps.

“Lady Eleanor Stark, my lady,” comes Wilkins’ voice.

I tighten my grip on the curtain, nerves bubbling through my body. Hearing the closing of the door, I blow out a breath and turn around. The woman who stands in the room is incredibly beautiful, her honey blonde hair piled fashionably on top of her head
in a coronet. Pearls grace her ears and elegant neck. My heart constricts with jealousy. It is obvious why Jonathan has desired her. I’m a daisy compared to her hothouse bloom. She walks around the room; gloved hands touching her mink stole on her shoulders, never taking her dark eyes away from me. Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, I clear my throat.

“Lady Stark. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

She holds her head higher. “Perhaps not, but you already know my name as I do yours.” The corner of her scarlet lips curve menacingly. “You’re the daughter of the drunken layabout Earl of Briggstow. Why, he’s so desperate to be rid of you, he’ll marry you off to anyone.”

I mask my twinge of pain. “Why are you here, Lady Stark?”

She pauses to touch a statue of a serpent with its jaws over a lamb on the sideboard. “You really don’t know? Well then, let me enlighten you.” Her cold eyes clash with mine. “Stay away from Jonathan Macey.”

She twists her nose, eyeing me with distaste, before pressing on, coming closer. “I have no idea what he sees in
such a skinny little wretch, but let me say this. Jonathan Macey is mine and I won’t let him be lured away by the likes of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

My stomach clenches, threatening to bring up my last meal.

Her lips come alongside my ear. “You don’t want to trifle with me, Lady Lucia. I can hurt you and Jonathan in more ways than you can imagine.”

I inhale
sharply; happy the fear doesn’t show in my voice. “Lady Stark. I believe you are jealous Jonathan no longer desires you. I suggest you return from wherever you came from and stay there. My relationship with him will only cease if he ends it.”

She scoffs. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am very serious, Lady Stark.”

Her cool demeanour vanishes. “And this is your final word?”

I meet her gaze head on.

“Very well, then,” she says, raising her skirts to leave. “
You cannot say I didn’t warn you. I shall know how to act.”

I try to believe she is just a woman scorned, but she knows about my relationship with Jonathan, and could ruin everything if she tells someone. My father? I force down the constriction building in my throat. He would only punish me with a beating, or worse, force me to marry anyone of his choosing.

Upon hearing the grandfather clock in the hall chiming the hour, I know I must see him earlier than planned. I breakfast and rush outside, forgetting my pelisse, ignoring the chill on my bare arms. It matters not if he’s still training with Sampson. I will find a way to make myself known.

Peering around the large oak tree, I sigh, when I see Jonathan sitting on the bank by the river, his right arm moving. Perhaps he’s sketching again. Thankful he’s alone, I am about to approach, when a dark hooded figure appears from the right, marching straight towards him. The stranger speaks, making Jonathan pause and stand, although the voices are too low to fully comprehend.

An inexplicable amount of time passes. He turns, and it’s then I notice the charcoal and paper in his hand, although I cannot see what he’s been drawing. His hands brace his hips, and the stranger’s voice is louder, surprising me.

“Jonathan, please listen to reason.”

She reaches for him, but he dismisses her. Good.

“I have given you your time,
Lady Stark, and I will hear no more.”

“You called me ‘
Fair Eleanor,’ once.”

“
I don’t know her anymore.”

Lady Stark harrumphed.
“They said you would become my protector someday, but now they speak differently.”

“I’m sorry to cause disappointment,” he replied, mockingly.

Her hands clench into fists, her body shaking. “I will not allow that little wretch to interfere!”

They are speaking of me? Has he been telling her about us? The moisture in my throat dries up. Noticing what’s in his hand, she quickly snatches it. Once she’s seen it, I can see her jaw jut out from under her hood.

“Hand it over, Lady Stark! Now!” he demands, trying to grab it, but she holds it away.

“I know what you’re planning
. Don’t try to deny it. They told me what would happen. It doesn’t matter where you go with her.” Her arms fold in self-satisfaction. “The relationship is doomed to fail.”

Jonathan looks incredulously at her. “You made your choice twelve months ago. I left you to live your life. You have no right to come back and interfere in mine.”

Then she hasn’t been lying. A crack forms in my heart.

He collects his sword lying in the grass, sheaths it and turns in the opposite direction.

“You cannot do this to me!” she snaps.

He ignores her. Lady
Stark gets angry, stamping her feet. “You think I care for the affections of a landless bastard?”

He calls over his shoulder, unaffected by the slur. “Goodbye,
Lady Stark.”

“You know you won’t be able to keep her!”

Jonathan comes to a halt, and turns back, unable to meet Lady Stark’s gaze. She stalks closer, a lion honing in on its prey. Her voice is calmer now, although her tone is icy. “Don’t you see? One day, she’ll realise what you’ve done.”

I shake my head, willing him not to listen to her cruel words. As long as Jonathan and I are together, I shall be happy.

His head lifts, eyes betraying his inner sorrow. My hand reaches out, but my body remains still. Suddenly, his mouth twists in the corner. “It matters not what you say. I will ensure she has the best possible life I can provide her. Now, leave me in peace.”

“Damn you, Jonathan! You love her!”

He seizes the moment to reclaim his sketch, slides it into his pocket and begins to walk away.

“It won’t last forever! You’ll destroy her!”

He pauses mid-step, but doesn’t turn back.

The slight breeze picks up, whistling eerily in my ears.

“You know this for certain?” he asks slowly.

Lady
Stark sniggers without humour. “One doesn’t need to see into the future to know that.”

“
Lady Stark…”

“It’s true. When have I ever been wrong?” Slowly, she walks up behind him, until her face is alongside his. “
Lucia doesn’t know everything about you, does she? That dark side you don’t want to admit to having.”

“I don’t—”

“I know you won’t admit it. But that animal inside you won’t always be tamed. You cannot control it forever. He will eventually unleash his claws. And when he does—”

As her hand touches his shoulder, Jonathan spins around, shoving her into the tree behind, his hands roughly clasping her arms.

A chill rumbles down my spine, as I can see his mouth curled into a snarl, like an animal.

“You’re wrong! I would never hurt her!”

Lady Stark barely glances down at her arms, before Jonathan steps back and releases her. She leans boldly forward, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Then don’t.”

As she walks away, he turns back to the river, hands bracing his hips. He picks up a pebble and throws it, watching it skitter over the surface of the water. I’m about to reveal myself, when his head snaps towards the darkening sky, and his exploding rage is drowned out, by the rumbling from the clouds overhead. The sudden howl from the wind is so strong it pushes me away, making me grasp a nearby tree for support.

As the skies break and the rain begins to fall, Jonathan collapses on the riverbank, his arms covering his head. In between the rumble from the growing storm, I’m certain I hear him stifle a cry. I want to speak to him, to help him, but instead he loudly curses. Getting to his feet, he condemns the sky and leaves.

It’s then I realise the state of my own attire, and feel the cold rain seeping through my clothes.

Something soft and warm brushed my forehead, and I awoke inside the empty car. I already knew whose dark silhouette was leaning against the side of the house. It was hard to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. Not only were there butterflies, but bees, dragonflies and other flying insects had also taken up residence.

Following him inside his home gave me time to gather my inner strength and face what I had to do. He closed the front door behind us, brushing past me into the lounge, and stopped in front of the fireplace, his arm resting over the wall above. The image brought back a hidden memory of Jonathan staring into a hearth. I recognised the length of his overcoat, the broadness of his shoulders and the length of his Hessians. He looked at me, and once again, he was Nathan.

“Is Roger OK?” I asked. “The man you saw attacking me.”

“I took him home. He’s fine, but he’ll have a sore head in the morning.”

He must have done this whilst I slept. I touched my forehead, remembering the warmth. He couldn’t be a complete animal.

“
Nathan, I want to talk. You know what about.”

“Giving me orders now, are you?”

I held my tongue. He wouldn’t deter me.

Nathan stomped away into the kitchen, passing a tall bookcase. In his absence, I decided to take a closer look. A sudden image of the last time I’d observed someone’s bookcase came to mind. This time, there was no cause for concern. The bindings revealed their authors: Byron, Shelley, Keats and other famous classic poets. A beautiful image of Jonathan reciting from a book came into my mind. I moved along further. At the end of the row, two large business studies books propped up the others.

I hadn’t realised he’d gone to fetch beers until he returned. He offered the bottle, but I shook my head. Nathan sat heavily into the brown leather sofa, placing the bottle on the coffee table, morosely staring at it.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “For shouting at you earlier. I’m grateful you helped me.”

“It pains me to see you in danger.”

Hope began to rush through my veins. “Wherever I go, I seem to attract it,” I said, light-heartedly.

“
Attract
?
” Nathan asked hoarsely, as if that was the only word he’d heard.

“Danger,” I supplied, realising he was watching my lips. Sensing our energies drawing together again, I decided to take a chance. “Even when I was Lady
Lucia Callington.”

Nathan looked up immediately.
His blue eyes were no longer icy cold, but soft and vulnerable, as if he was finally allowing me into his soul.

“And you were Jonathan
Macey. The only one my heart desired.”

I blinked, feeling heat pinching my cheeks, but this time I ignored it, brushing his long fringe from his eyebrows. Closing my eyes, I pictured our first kiss in the maze and the warm memories
returned; only this time every inch of my body was alive from his touch. Any fears I may still have harboured vanished. Our hands entwined and his lips brushed mine. As the kiss deepened, he moved my hands to around his neck, cupping my cheeks with his. Leaning backwards, our surroundings shifted between present and past. Our hearts beat as one, when he covered me, his hands roaming to kiss my flushed cheeks, my neck, and lower. I was so happy; I could burst. Sandalwood teased my nostrils, and all I wanted was his scent on my body. He pulled back slightly, and my hands moved to my top, where I felt lacings that weren’t there before. Jonathan watched as I untied them, his mouth glistening in the candlelight. Cool air hit my newly exposed skin, but Jonathan dipped his face down there, warming me with his kisses. Our eyes opened simultaneously, and once again we were back in the present. He had unfastened the zip on my jacket and the area of skin between my t-shirt and scarf was still tingling from his kisses, yet I could feel my body yearning for more.