In the Shadows (The Blaisdell Chronicles) (14 page)

“Oh, Luce, one more thing.” She yanked my arm and pulled me into the corner before I could protest. “When I spoke to Ellen, she had a message for you. She said she was sorry if she’d scared you, and wants to catch up. See? I told you she was lovely. Perhaps now you’ll believe me, and get in touch.”

Not likely
, I told myself. Determined to enjoy my time with Nathan, I stepped outside with him. Luckily, the rain had stopped for now, and the grey clouds were a few shades lighter. Nathan pulled me in for a cuddle, but moments after pressing a kiss to my forehead, my stomach grumbled. He chuckled, looking down with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Hungry?”

“
Famishe
d
,” I breathed.

He regarded me with a serious gaze, heat rushing through me, making my body tremble all over. Our lips met and everything around me disappeared, as if nothing else in the world mattered. My fears about him breaking up with me again seemed to float away, so I surrendered and the kiss deepened, but soon Nathan was withdrawing again.

“I’ve booked us a table at that new restaurant.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

Nathan smiled, making my heart perform a somersault. “After last night, I thought you might consider being my girlfriend. But before I could ask, I was introduced to your friend and I confess it was a sneaky way to do it. But now it makes it all seem more real. Not that I’m complaining, of course. And isn’t this what couples do anyway?”

He made a V with his arm, extending it so I could link my arm in his. In so many ways, Jonathan’s gentleman-like mannerisms remained within Nathan. I couldn’t help but admire them.

Soon we were ensconced at a
cosy table in an ancient Italian restaurant I’d not noticed before. The Spaghetti Pomodoro had smelled and looked delicious when it was placed in front of me, but no matter how much I put in my mouth, I couldn’t taste any of it. I peeked at Nathan, who sat chewing his risotto, trying to read my thoughts. I returned my attention to the spaghetti I was trying to wind around my fork, when a warm hand covered mine, halting my actions.

“What’s the matter?”

I made the mistake of looking at him, and sorrow squeezed my heart. He wouldn’t hurt me again. I had to believe it. I didn’t think I could bear to lose him again. “Nothing,” I said in the calmest voice I could manage. “It’s just that I’m worried about Jen. She’s having boyfriend problems.”

Saying the words aloud made goose pimples pepper over my bare arms, but the restaurant was far from cold. Who was this new guy that had put Jen’s head into a spin? The only other guy I was aware of was Alex, but Jen had claimed she wasn’t interested. Besides, she often got attention when she went out. Perhaps it was someone else she’d met. Someone new. So why couldn’t I shake off the unsettling feeling it wasn’t? I tried changing subject. “This is lovely. What’s yours like?”

Pushing some rice onto his fork, he took me by surprise and coaxed my mouth open. Suddenly, I was able to taste the wonderful flavours on my tongue. Slowly, the prongs slipped away, his eyes watching me eat. The whole thing was so intimate; I wanted him to do it again. As we fed each other from our plates, I realised this was the best tasting meal ever.

I couldn’t concentrate on work after Nathan had gone. Jen had wanted to know every detail about our date, without leaving anything out, but my head was too clouded with other things. Nathan. The dreams.
Ellen. Soon, my head began to pound, and it became too much. Mr Whitmore allowed me to go home, and Jen was fine about it, even though she was certain I was about to sneak off to meet Nathan again. But this time, I wouldn’t be seeing him.

After all, I had no intention of letting him know what I was planning.

Nathan hadn’t been pleased that time he saw me coming out of the Evans Solicitors buildings. But there was still much to learn about my past, and somehow, I felt my answers were inside. Turning down Assembly Street, my pace slowed as I approached the building. Once again, the cars changed into horse drawn carriages and footmen stood on guard by the doors. Music and laughter came from inside, promising an enjoyable evening. Father came out with another gentleman to smoke, the cloudy plumes from their cigars reaching high, and leading towards the balcony, but the outer walls were shaded black, and somehow, the whole building was smaller than I remembered. My hand reached for the dark patches, and a small energy rose inside. I walked inside the building, feeling the return of the past.

A smartly dressed woman walked down the long staircase and brushed past me. Images from the past pushed forwards.

I quickly walked along the upper landing. I saw a portrait on the wall of the Earl of Briggstow, his familiar dark eyes reflecting disapproval, even now, making me look away. But when I looked again, it was now long gone, leaving behind a paler square than the rest of the walls. I moved further, stopping at a portrait that still hung there. Although faded, I could tell the woman had long dark hair, pinned high in a chignon, her face full of grace and youth.

LADY LOUISA CALLINGTON, COUNTESS OF BRIGGSTOW

B. 1770 D 1807

The Earl of Briggstow was in a foul mood. The servants were nervous wrecks in his presence, but that suited him. He slumped in his armchair by the fire, studying the glowing embers. It hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when he was happy. He had a wife, daughter and a modest estate in Briggstow. But in order to ensure their succession, they needed a male heir. His own father, the former earl, had drummed it into his son’s ears on his deathbed, making him promise that he’d continue their legacy along with their forefathers, or he’d bring shame to their great name. It hadn’t been easy to live up to his expectations. His daughter was ten and three when his countess finally conceived again, yet the joy was short-lived, when both mother and child died together. He knew he’d become bitter, and was unable to see his daughter. But now he was alone, and he sorely regretted everything he’d done. He stumbled over the empty bottles lying over the floor in his study, hands trying to reach for the brandy decanter on a side table. He fell and gingerly picked himself up, muttering low oaths under his breath. With the brandy in his hand, he approached the fireplace, observing the portrait on the wall of himself on bent knee before his wife. Raising his glass, he slurred a toast, but he moved too quickly and fell forward, hitting his head on the marble mantelpiece, knocking himself out. The brandy leaked out of the glass, the amber liquid making a trail like a line of gunpowder towards the lit hearth. Flames rose in anger, surrounding the earl, who remained unaware of his peril.

Maids rushed in a panic, as the fire took over the study. One alerted the footman, who was about to go in for his master, but the flames burned through the bookcase, causing it to come crashing down in front of them.

I saw Mum crying in the corner, and the earl’s very still body on the ground. The fire was growing, and the strong fumes made me cough. I backed away from the flames, swallowing the nausea rising in my throat. I held my breath, as I saw Mum escaping through the window, but darkness came and claimed the earl as victim.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. There’s nothing to be afraid of. There’s no fire. Roger’s alive. We all are.

“Do you like her?” A familiar male voice broke into my thoughts.

“Where did you get this?” I asked, without taking my eyes away.

“It was found in the attic only recently, whilst workmen were checking a leak in the roof. Luckily, it wasn’t too badly damaged. I liked this one so much that I wanted to display it. The countess was very beautiful, wasn’t she? She reminds me of my dear Louise, even without the similar name.”

I smiled at my stepfather, but my curiosity over what was in the attic was growing.

“Was anything else found in the attic?”

“Why, yes, although they’re all in storage in the west wing now.”

Excitement hummed in my veins. My bedroom was in the west wing. “Really? Can I have a look?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m glad you share my enthusiasm for history, but many of the items are being donated to the museum, and will be collected later in the week for verification.”

“Please, Derek.” This was the first time in all the time I’d known him I’d asked anything of him.

He smiled, apologetically. “It’s old and dusty in there. Besides, most of the items are probably broken anyway. We haven’t had the time to look properly.”

“I can do it. If you could just—”

“Lucy, no.” His tone made it clear this conversation was over. Noticing my dejection, his hand touched my shoulder. “
I’m sorry you didn’t have a good birthday. Your mother and I wanted to make it up to you. It’s a surprise, which is much better than dusty old paintings. I’m sure you’ll agree when you see it.”

I waited until he was back inside his office, when I headed back towards the staircase and paused. Seeing the west wing on the other side, I knew I had to find out the truth. With a quick jog, I leaned against the west wing door, and tried turning the handle, but it was locked. Frustrated, I looked around and I found myself reaching for a bobby pin out from my fringe. The imagery made me recall a young Lucia using one of her pins to try to get into the locked cupboard to take a biscuit. Luckily, I’d remembered her skill, and stuck the pin into the old lock. When it clicked, I slipped inside and closed the door. Derek had been right in his description of the room. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like curtains and the stale air made me cough. Dust covered many of the items in the room and the four-poster bed was covered in old sheets. The dresser was overturned, the porcelain washbasin cracked and the white armoire door was hanging off the hinge. On the floor was the box Derek had mentioned. I tried sifting my hand through the broken items, taking care not to cut myself, and found a dusty painting. Brushing the dust away with my sleeve, my heart skipped a beat in my chest. It was the eyes which were so familiar, yet the clothes were much more elegant than I remembered. The name at the bottom of the brass frame read:

LORD JONATHAN MACEY, 1ST VISCOUNT OF AVON

I looked more closely, and realised the lines on his face had aged him, but the stare was just as cool as the one Nathan had given me when we first met. Now his smart buckskin breeches, starched cravat and highly polished Hessian boots only made him more intimidating. I put it away and thought carefully. Jonathan hadn’t been accepted in society for being Sulis’ bastard son, yet now he had his own title. When had this happened? I rifled deeper into the box, hoping to find a clue, but it was another painting which caught my attention. The plaque at the bottom read:

LORD ALEXANDER MORRIGAN,
9TH EARL OF SULIS

My skin felt as if bugs were crawling all over it, and I shuddered.

“Sir, I wish to return to the house. We are strolling too far.”

“My lady, I only mean to further our acquaintance. It is your father’s wish too, is it not?”

The earl’s keen olive eyes wander over me, the dimple appearing alongside his smile. I have no desire to be scolded for not doing my duty, although foreboding troubles me. There is no maid nearby acting as a chaperone. Why has father allowed this?

He abruptly pauses, taking my hand, pressing a kiss on the back.

“Sir, you are too bold!”

“But you’re so beautiful, Lady Lucia. You make a man forget himself.”

His kisses climb up my arm to my shoulder, but I withdraw from his embrace. He takes a step closer, and I take two back. His nostrils flare, and suddenly, he pushes me onto the ground, pulling at my gown.

I dropped the painting, not caring where it landed, as the truth flashed before me. Jonathan and Sulis had been half brothers, and Nathan and Alex were still half brothers. They both wanted me, and still did. Alex had asked me not to tell Jen about us. He must have said the same thing to her and he was the one who’d broken her heart. Perhaps he’d led her on? Nathan knew all along what Alex was capable of, and only wanted to protect me. How could I have been so foolish? Nausea burned my throat, and fear shuddered down my spine.
    

I ran through the darkening streets of Briggstow, determined to get home. The past called me, disorientating me and presenting a clear danger in the present when the hooves from the horses along the cobbled roads suddenly became a loud car horn, making me stumble in panic. I couldn’t find the bus stop, nor could I see the street signs. My head was spinning, as past and present began to blend into one. Nothing made sense anymore and I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know where I was heading. Fear clamped its icy hand around my heart. I closed my eyes to block the world out, forcing my body to stop shaking. When I opened them again, everything had calmed. A streetlight came on ahead of me, revealing the entrance to the woods, a short cut. I headed straight in, already feeling a little calmer. The moonlight filtered its way through the treetops, leading me home.

Suddenly, a tall figure emerged from behind the trees. My heart wanted to continue, but my feet wouldn’t move. My nightmare had stepped into the light.

“Hello, baby.”