In the Shadows (The Blaisdell Chronicles) (19 page)

Nathan called for a taxi, quickly explaining to Roger he was leaving a couple of notes in his shirt pocket.

I crouched beside my father. “The taxi won’t be long, but I have to go. It’s not safe for me here.”

Roger frowned, his black eyes searching mine. “What’s going on, Goosy Lucy?”

Hearing my childhood nickname, I was reminded of the field with the swing. I wanted to stay and talk to him. I wished I had the time to explain, but could hear Nathan urging me to hurry. I touched his arm. “Your anger may have been directed at the wrong person, but thank you for what you did.”

Feeling my voice beginning to shake, I rose and with bitter regret, I left him.

An hour later, we stopped for the night in a small hotel. When we entered our room, we both stared at the double bed with black and white striped bedding. I swallowed hard, slowly trying to meet his gaze, but when I did, Nathan was already on the phone to room service.

When the dinner had arrived upstairs, I was reluctant to eat, but Nathan encouraged me to do so, saying I needed to keep my strength up. I finished my Coke, but only managed half of the steak and a few of the chips before I pushed the plate away and moved to the window. Pulling the black curtain aside, I stared out into the darkness, the orange headlights from cars going up and disappearing into the distance, the same road where we’d come from. Roger should be back home by now. I hoped he was all right. Perhaps when this was all over, we could finally sort things out.

Nathan’s arm came around my waist, and he stood alongside me, looking out. Fingertips gently pressed into my skin.

“I’m sorry for taking you away like this, but I had to.
Lady Stark’s not the type to just let things lie. She’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants.”

“
Ellen.”

“Hmm?”

“Her name’s Ellen now. Remember?”

He nodded slowly, deep in thought. I wanted to know what was on his mind, but when I tried to listen, all I could hear was his heartbeat. Suddenly, I blurted it out.

“Did you love her?”

He looked down, as if puzzled by the question.

“I mean, I don’t blame you if you did. She was beautiful, after all. But that was before you met me, and I can’t help wondering why she still wants you—”

His fingers caressed my face. “At the time, I believed I did. I thought she felt the same, until I realised she was merely toying with my feelings. She’d married
Lord Stark for his fortune, and I left her alone. But when she learned I’d found someone else, she took it as the greatest insult. Now she just wants me to suffer, and anyone I care about along with me.”

My mind flickered back to
Lady Stark’s chilling words. I blew out a long breath. “Why is it so hard for us to be together?”

Our eyes both flew towards the bed, as if we’d both been thinking the same thing. Redness tinged my cheeks, deepening when our gazes clashed. My body yearned for his touch, for him to make me his completely, but I couldn’t form the words and instead babbled, like a toddler learning to speak.

“It’s late,” he quietly cut me off. “You should get ready for bed.” It was his turn to flush, so he added, “To sleep.”

Seeing the wicker chair in the corner, he turned it around and sat in it. I could have gone into the bathroom to change, but my body refused to move. I wanted him here with me. My hands were clumsy as I undressed, taking longer than usual. I inhaled deeply, trying to regain composure. His fingers started drumming a low rhythm on the arm of the chair. Installing
Lucia’s attempt at seduction in my head, I was ready to try again, but remembered the pain at his rebuff. Would he do it again? My fingers touched my lips, reliving the sweet kisses, and my body shook in anticipation. I wanted so much more. I looked down, realising I was only in my regular bra and cotton knickers, hardly seductive material. I had no lingerie to entice him with, and I didn’t feel sexy like this. It wasn’t the best time to be doing this, but I’d waited so long, I just longed to be with him. I shifted on my feet uncomfortably, making a floorboard creak. Nathan’s head slightly tilted back, without looking at me. His fingers drummed with more speed, my heart racing alongside. Quickly, I slipped on my plain nightdress and got into bed. I cleared my throat, and Nathan approached, our eyes meeting as he joined me. Lying atop the covers on his side, he brushed an errant lock of hair from my face, his knuckles grazing the heat on my cheek. His head lowered, coming closer, and I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he flashed a dazzling smile, tucking me into his arms. Pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead, he whispered, “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

With Nathan in bed next to me, I knew that would be impossible.

A booming voice behind my closed door awakens me from my slumber. I almost stumble when I stand; the after effects from those awful pills Father ordered the footmen to force down my throat when I wouldn’t be calm. My chest tightens as I recall Jonathan’s body lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs. An icy chill moves down my back. I have to find out if he is alive.

“Time to rise, my lady!” Edith’s voice calls from outside my bedroom. “Your wedding approaches!”

The door bursts open, slamming into the wall with such force that the bowl on the nightstand beside me almost topples. I let it fall and smash. I frown at the broken pieces scattered over the floor. I distinctly remember smashing the bowl over Sulis’s henchman’s head last night. Edith hurries into the room, two other maids following. I’m quickly stripped, as one of the maids reveals my wedding gown, laying it on my bed.

“May we be the first to congratulate you today, my lady,” says a maid called Rose, whose cheeks are as bright as her name.

The other maid, the short,
dark curly haired Bessie, comes over with a hairbrush in her hand. “Aye, my lady. The Earl of Sulis is a fine looking man.”

Edith shows her disdain, fists on her large hips. “End this chit-chat and get on with your duties. There are many chores to be done.”

Bessie and Rose dip their heads and apologise in unison.

Edith and Rose collect the washing and exit the room. As I sit at my dressing table, Bessie begins to brush my hair. I try to enjoy the long strokes and forget the Earl of Sulis’s vile hands, his glee at finally being able to consummate the marriage. As his wife, I shall be bound to obey him, but I’m not married yet. I must try to speak with father before it’s too late.

“That’ll be all, Bessie,” I say, raising my hand.

She pauses, mid-stroke. “But, my lady, your hair isn’t finished.”

I stand, affirming my order. “You may continue later. I have an urgent matter that requires my attention.”

Before Bessie can respond, I rush past her, my hair still undressed, flowing to my waist. At his study door, I bang my fist against it, knowing he’ll be in there, drinking as usual. A maid opens it, and with her eyes lowered, rushes out. I turn my attention to the gentleman in the room, standing by the window, dressed in his finery, brandy in one hand. He doesn’t meet my gaze, and I realise the brandy decanter on the bureau is almost empty.

I swallow hard, watching him move back towards the offending drink, cursing under his breath as he refills his glass. I am glad his back is to me. It is the only way I can summon my courage.

“Father, I wish to speak to you.”

He replaces the decanter and sighs, swirling the last of his brandy, watching it rather than me. “There is no need to thank me. The Earl of Sulis is a fine choice of husband. I’m glad I chose him. He will suit us well.”

“I do not wish to marry him—”

“I cannot see why not. He’s rich, young and healthy, something you protested about for so long like a spoiled child. Well, now I’ve found someone that meets all three requirements.”

“But Father, you don’t understand. Wealth isn’t one of my requirements. Besides—”

“It bloody well should be!” he bellows, in sudden, growing fury. “His fortune will more than suffice.”

“The Earl of Sulis is a scoundrel!” I finally say aloud. “I’ve heard about his reputation with the ladies!” 

Father purses his lips, as if what I have said isn’t shocking. “There will always be other women. As his wife, you must learn to turn a blind eye to your husband’s infidelities.”

Frustration reaches my temples, making them ache. I’m about to release my anger, but it is then I realise Father is wearing the same clothes from last night, still crumpled as if he hasn’t slept. “I need to know what happened to Jonathan.”

Father observes his empty glass, holding it up to the light from the window. “You saw what happened.”

“Is he alive?”
             

He briefly shrugs his shoulder. Doesn’t he care?

“Tell me.”

He turns, slowly walking towards me, invisible hands pushing me into a corner. “You don’t want to know.”

I fight the panic I can feel building in my throat. “Where is he?”

“Your lover came to me yesterday morning, begging for me to end the arrangement with Sulis and permit him to marry you instead. I told him the idea was ludicrous. Sulis is the true son and heir from the former, highly respected earl. He’s just the by-blow. Now, I had hoped that would be the end of it and our meeting would remain secret. But it seemed Mr
Macey’s former lover, Lady Stark, had discovered what was going on. You know the rest.”

“
What happened to him?”

Father smashes his glass on the floor, making me jump, but he roughly grabs my arms, thrusting me against the wall. “He was taken somewhere safe. He woke up and I spoke with him. For your sake, I tried paying him off. I offered the last of my cash in the safe, even your mother’s pearls, but he wanted none of them. His actions made me desperate.” A bullet’s gone through my body. He backs away, moving to his bureau drawer, pulling out his pistol and a cloth, casually wiping it, as if he’s removing a stain. “He’s been taken care of. Sulis is your only option now.”

No, he couldn’t have. Could he? Anger and pent up tears break free, my limbs trembling at the realisation, and then I do what I have never done. I rush forward, trying to strike him, but he pins me back.

“Under no uncertain circumstances will you marry anyone other than Sulis. Or I will disown you, turn you out onto the street and you’ll be forced to use that beautiful voice of yours to pay your way.” His voice comes too close, his breath reeking of his brandy on his acidic tongue. “And we all know how opera singers get by.”

I cry out, but he opens the door, roughly dragging me upstairs. Maids and footmen pause, and I look for their help, but they turn away, pretending they don’t see my predicament.

“
Oh, my love,” I weep, inconsolably. “Jonathan...”

“He won’t be back for you now!”

He heaves me into my room and I land on the stone floor. Bessie looks up from cleaning the window, mouth agape.

“Get my daughter ready for her wedding. Make sure she doesn’t leave this room,” he says icily.

“Yes, my lord,” Bessie drops into a curtsy.

As the door slams shut, the room shakes, and I feel as though I could break. Bessie crouches beside me, pulling me close.

“It’s all right, my lady. It’s all right.”

But it isn’t.

A sharp shudder tore through me as I bolted upright in bed, my skin clammy from my dream. I wanted to scream, but my voice had disappeared. I squeezed my eyes shut, removing the memory of Jonathan’s demise from my mind. Now awake, I knew Jonathan had survived, but the thought of losing him made my chest ache. The room was dark, as was the sky outside, and the infrared alarm clock showed it was not long after midnight. I was now seventeen. The day of reckoning was here. Needing comfort, I turned around, but there was a small dip in the bed beside me. I looked around for Nathan, and saw his silhouette. The chair he reclined in was at an odd angle, as though he had moved it as far as possible from where I slept. 

A low moan escaped his mouth, and his body twitched. Carefully, I approached, noticing what looked like some sort of sketch on his lap. He moaned again, this time louder. I placed the paper on the bedside table and touched the back of his hand. He shuffled slightly, but he didn’t wake. Feeling the dark room swirling with darker shadows, I closed my eyes.

The Earl of Sulis wants my blood. My name is in the newspapers, and I am whispered about in society more than ever before. They all know what I’ve done, and that I should be punished.

My loneliness makes me walk the dark streets at night, not caring if I fall victim to a pickpocket or a beating.

Inside the tavern, I cannot count the number of empty glasses at my table, but the room begins to buck and turn when I stand to order another. The barman’s wife approaches, hesitant to accept my request for more ale. She appeals to her husband, who asks me to leave. Angrily, I pound the table, glasses shaking, until two drop to the ground and smash. Two large men grab me, pushing me to the door. I know the repercussions of what I am about to do. My hands ball into fists, ready to attack, but I fall against their chests. Once outside, they throw me to the ground. I call out a slur in protest, but they kick me down into the gutter, beside a muddy puddle, where I belong.

Darkness closed in on the dream, but soon, I found myself in another.

“You have a letter, sir,” my maid announces.

Leaving me just as quickly as she enters, I have no desire to read anything. The wine bottle at my side seems much more appealing. Pouring a glass, I catch a glimpse of the seal on the envelope. Setting aside the wine, I open it and read:

Dear Mr
Macey,

It has come to my attention that you have been engaging in brawls in taverns in the most common parts of Briggstow. I am aware of your reasons, and usually I have no problem with men letting off steam, but in your case, you must realise this behaviour is unacceptable. Perhaps in your case, it would be more prudent to release your anger elsewhere. Your father was a friend of the former king’s, a good soldier, who bought his commission and fought bravely in past wars. As the second son of the late Earl of Sulis, it is time for you to fight for your country. Colonel Forster is waiting outside, where you will go to France with him. Might I remind you, that this is not a request?

The letter is signed ‘George R’.

Soon, I find myself fighting a war. Life is hard. Death surrounds me, and I’m only reminded of what I’ve done. But I have to keep my secret knowledge of where the British ships will dock to myself. The enemy cannot learn of this. Colonel Forster’s daily words stay with me even after he is blown to pieces in front of me. I hide in the trenches, like the coward I am, wishing I could disappear from this world. Battle cries erupt, cannons and rifles fire, soldiers’ blades cut each other down. But as the days pass, the sickness in my stomach dies away. And then one morning, her face forms in the swirling grey plumes, still hauntingly beautiful. Is she looking down at me from heaven? Judging me? Rage builds inside. I ready my rifle, checking my knife is still concealed in my boot, and with a loud cry, we charge together. From that day, I stop caring even the little I had cared. Even my fellow soldiers mean nothing to me now.

I try to wake, but a new scene pulls me back.

It is a day like all the others, full of violence, pain and death. We wake just before dawn, our bellies empty, but my appetite longs for something else. My hands grip my weapons, fingers flexing at the sides. They will all share my misery. Cannons fire in the wan morning light, the smoke already burning my nostrils. We charge towards each other, swords drawn, and pistols raised, ready to strike. Leaping over the dead bodies, still piling high, it no longer bothers me that I’m responsible for death. I aim my pistol at their soldiers and fire. Some fall, their agonised screams piercing the sky; others charge on. There is no reason to it. One chooses me, aims his pistol and fires. I almost laugh when the shot is too wide, but as I turn back, I notice to my horror that the bullet meant for me has hit my comrade instead. Distraction is a mistake, as the enemy tackles me to the ground, cursing my country in a foreign tongue. He tries to stab me with his knife, the blade inches from my heart. No use telling him that’s already dead. I throw him off, and before he can try again, I grab his neck and squeeze with all of my strength. When he stops struggling, I shove his lifeless body aside.

I look up and see the French bastards dragging my comrade away, and tear at them like a hungry lion until too many enemy soldiers arrive, all of them pushing me to the ground, punching and kicking.              

Nathan cried out, and for a moment, I panicked. He looked so still, that I was convinced I had to wake him. I touched his chest, and he opened his eyes, blinking frantically, his face blanched. My hand reached for his face, trying to soothe him. I wanted him to look at me, but he wouldn’t.

“Why are you awake?” he finally asked.

“I...couldn’t sleep,” I murmured.

He nodded, and for a moment I hoped he’d finally open up about his nightmares, but I couldn’t swallow the nerves in my gut. Would
I
reall
y
want to know everything? The silence stretched, and my heart deflated when I realised he wouldn’t confide in me.

The rejection stung as I wandered to the window, staring out. I was glad Nathan couldn’t see my dismay. Remembering the paper, I took it and headed into the bathroom.

Inside, I saw the sketch was of a young woman asleep in bed. And it wasn’t just anybody. The strokes of the pencil were strong and passionate. He hadn’t highlighted the obvious flaws, ignoring my blemished skin and dark rings under my eyes. He made each part of me beautiful, from the long, flowing hair cascading over the shoulders, to the curled hand on the pillow at my side and the fullness of my lips. It was a long way from how I saw myself, but for a moment I basked in the glow of his sketch. Was this how he actually saw me?

A sudden frantic banging on the bathroom door made me jump.

“I was looking out the window and saw that Mazda of his at the roundabout. He’s going to know we’re here soon enough. We have to leave now.”

“Are you sure it’s Alex? There are lots of Mazda’s—”

“I’m sure.” 

I’d barely pulled on my jeans and t-shirt before Nathan was urging me out the door, holdall in hand. Dropping the key with the sleepy receptionist, I glanced through the glass front doors and a pair of car headlights briefly dazzled me.

Nathan grabbed my hand and we ran towards the back of the hotel, and out the fire exit. It was several degrees colder than when we’d arrived, and the promised snow had followed us, already pitching on the ground. Nathan unlocked the car and ushered me in. I strapped myself in, the tyres squealed, and we were off. His hands were clenched tightly around the leather steering wheel, his gaze focused directly ahead.

Feeling my heart skittering at the same speed as the car, I knew no good could come of this.

As we turned down a side street, Nathan cursed, when the Mazda followed. It didn’t matter how many manoeuvres Nathan did, the Mazda kept up.

We drove down a quiet country lane, and suddenly we were nudged from behind. Nathan’s jaw ticked, as he fought to regain control, but the Mazda was persistent. Nathan threw his body over mine, and my loud screams were the last thing I remembered.