Love Me Always (34 page)

He pulled back and stared into her tear-streaked face. “
Who
wouldn’t let her live? Who killed Mary?”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sleeve. “The one who killed her is none other than Colonel Martin –”

“Colonel Martin?” Nick gasped.

Anne shook her head. “No, Colonel Martin’s servant, Hodgson.”

Nick swayed, his mind reeling from the shock. “No...no...”

“Oh, yes. He tortured Mary before he killed her. He would have tortured Mrs. Berkley, but she fled. If he hears I talked to you, he’ll torture me and kill me.”

Panic gripped Nick’s chest, squeezing the breath out of him.
Catherine is in danger!
Hodgson had struck Catherine the other night – the bruise had risen on her cheek in a hideous fashion. Yet Catherine couldn’t remember. Why? She wouldn’t have been trying to protect her father’s servant. Nick shook his head. That wouldn’t be like her. She would have told him... So why couldn’t she remember?

Anne gripped his arm tighter. “Do ye swear to God ye won’t let him touch me?”

He nodded. “You will be protected. Let’s get you back home. Right now, it’s Miss Catherine I’m fearful for. She returned home this morning with her father and Hodgson.”

Anne blinked, then widened her eyes. “They did?”

“Yes.”

“You must go save her. She’s in grave danger.”

Nick’s heart twisted in agony. “Then let’s depart. I don’t want to waste another moment.”

* * * *

Nick ran into the house. “Gregg!” He rushed into his uncle’s study and to the weapons cabinet and threw open the glass doors.

Quick footsteps boomed through the hall. “Nick? Is that you?”

“I’m in here.” He grabbed a pistol and peered up the barrel to make certain it was on target.

The echo from boots grew closer, and soon the deep breaths of his brother rasped behind him. “What are you shouting about?”

Nick glanced over his shoulder. “It’s Hodgson – Colonel Martin’s servant. He’s the murderer.”

Gregg scrunched his nose. “Are you insane? Why would you come to that conclusion?”

Another pair of boots clunked on the floor and entered the study. Ian’s eyes widened. “What’s amiss? I detected panic in your voice.”

Nick arched a brow. “Why would you care? You don’t believe in Catherine’s innocence.”

Ian folded his arms. “So that’s what this is about?”

“Yes. Catherine didn’t kill Mary or beat her father.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Yes.” Nick shoved the pistol in his pocket and grabbed a saber, hooking the belt around his waist. “Mrs. Berkley and Anne can testify Hodgson killed Mary.”

Gregg cursed and ran his fingers through his hair. Ian cocked his head before a laugh escaped his throat.

“The colonel’s servant? What kind of stories are they telling? And what a fool you are for believing.”

Nick grabbed Ian’s shirt and shook him. “Catherine is in trouble. Hodgson is a mad man, and I’m going to save her. If you dare try to stop me, I swear on our uncle’s grave, I’ll kill you myself.” Nick’s chest heaved with quick breaths as he glared into his brother’s doubting eyes.

Ian’s harsh gaze soon softened and he nodded. “You love her that much?”

“I’d give my life to save hers.”

“Are you certain it’s her father’s servant?”

Nick released his hold on Ian. “If you had spoken to Anne as I just did, you would have seen the terror in her eyes. She was ready to kill herself for fear Hodgson would find out what she knew and torture her as he had Mary.”

Gregg cursed again. “Then what are we standing around for? Let’s go save Catherine.”

Nick patted Gregg’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

His brother pushed past him and grabbed his own pistol. Nick hurried out to his horse with Gregg not too far behind. As Nick swung his leg over the back of the animal, he prayed he’d make it to Catherine’s cottage in time. He couldn’t let Hodgson touch her again.

He glanced over his shoulder at Gregg. “Are you with me then?”

Sadness touched his brother’s eyes, his mouth tugged in a frown. “Do you love her enough to do the proper thing and marry her? I’m aware of all the times you were in her room when nobody suspected.”

Nick gave a sharp inhale. “You knew?”

“Yes.”

Nick scratched his chin and nodded. “I love her, Gregg, but I won’t marry her just to do the right thing. I want to marry her because I adore her. I have since childhood, and she loves me...or at least she did.”

“She still does,” Gregg said softly.

“Uncle Grant knew, and approved. His last words to me before he died were encouraging me to marry Catherine. We both know the
ton
won’t approve because she’s a country girl, but Gregg,” Nick gripped his brother’s shoulder, “I don’t care about society. I love Catherine more than life itself. I cannot live without her.”

Gregg chewed on his bottom lip and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Then let’s go rescue her so you can give her the happiness she deserves.”

“Are you with me to the end?” Tears stung Nick’s eyes.

Gregg gave him a slight grin. “To the end.”

Chapter Nineteen

Catherine curled on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her skirt. This is where she’d gone soon after she and her father had arrived at home two days ago. This was where she would stay. For how long, she didn’t know.

She couldn’t go on living with a broken heart. Tears streaked down her cheeks and fatigue had sapped the strength out of her. All she could do was lay and stare at the wall.

Why couldn’t she remember? Why was she having blackouts? It couldn’t possibly be the reason her father had given. Her mother wasn’t insane, or she would have realized it. She definitely couldn’t have that disease or Nick would have seen it.

The harder she tried to remember what she’d done that night her father had been beaten, the harder her head pounded. But she couldn’t give up.

Sleep threatened to disrupt her thoughts, and soon she floated toward her dreams. Memories came little by little. She’d been upset when she’d left her room that evening. She would do anything not to return home with her father. Anything...even confess that she was in love with Nick. She’d tell her father Nick had come to her room on several occasions and kissed her. She was certain her father would insist Nick marry her and do the right thing.

She had gone to her father’s room first, but he wasn’t there. In desperation, she searched through the house then wandered outside. The fog had moved in, but thankfully, it wasn’t thick. Still, she hurried around the estate on foot, hoping to get a glimpse of her father. When she neared the stables, a movement from the large hedges drew her attention.

The figure of a man stumbled out into the clearing. At first she thought it was someone who’d had too many spirits. His clothes were wrinkled and dusty, his hair disheveled. Yet the closer she studied him, she’d realized it was her father.

When he saw her, he froze. She remained still, wondering why he acted like a frightened rabbit that had been caught by a hungry wolf. He’d limped when he walked toward her and stumbled a few times. His expression didn’t appear focused on her, either.

The memory faded and Catherine’s head pounded harder. She moaned and rolled to her side on the bed, determined to remember more.

The haze in her mind lifted again, and she recalled the bruises on her father’s face. When he started talking to her, his voice slurred – yet alcohol was not to blame since she knew her father did not drink. But the way he acted was as if he was possessed, accusing her of the worst things and calling her a jezebel.

Catherine remembered the hurt and anger from his confusing words. “No, Father, you’re mistaken. I came looking for you tonight.”

Laughter rattled deep in his chest. “I think it’s one of your made-up stories again. In fact, I’m certain you were probably looking for Nicholas. His uncle is dead, and now you think you can sink your claws into him.”

Tears had stung her eyes. “Please, Father. You must believe me.”

He grasped her arm and held in a vise-like grip. Although her father’s eyes were on her, it was as if he looked right through to the trees in back of her.

He lifted his chin, giving her his all-powerful scowl.
“Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”

Catherine shook her head. What was he doing quoting scriptures at a time like this? If she didn’t know better, she would have thought her grandfather stood in front of her now. “Father?”

“You are a sinner, my daughter. You must ask the Lord’s forgiveness.” Yanking her with him, he fell to his knees and she stumbled beside him.
“Behold, all souls are mine; as the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is mine; the soul that sinneth, it shall die.”

His hand tightened and she cried out. “Let me go. You’re mad.” Catherine had wondered if her father was the parent insane and not her mother – yet she’d never seen her father act in such a way. It was as if someone else possessed his body.

He continued quoting scriptures,
“But if the wicked shall turn from all his sins that he hath committed, and keep all my statues, and do that which is lawful and right, he shall surely live, he shall not die.”

A lump welled in her throat. He talked nonsense...yet by the wicked gleam in his eyes, he believed every word coming from his mouth. Did he think he was God?

Her mind scrambled to remember those scriptures he’d forced her to memorize as a child. If this was his only form of communicating, then she’d play his game.
“The next day,”
she began in a shaky voice,
“John seeth Jesus coming up to him and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed, his lips curled.
“Then said Jesus unto them, I go my way, and ye shall seek me, and shall die in your sins; whither I go, you cannot come.”

Fear crawled over her, piercing its fangs deep into her skin, just as his fingers were doing.
“So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone.”

He gripped her shoulders and shook her hard.
“Fools make a mock of sin, but among the righteous, there is favour.”

Tears streamed down her face.
“And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man or his parents...”

The parent she remembered from childhood yelled and raised his hand, then slapped his palm across her face. Her head snapped back and she fell to the ground. Pain ripped through her neck and shoulders.

“The father shall not be put to death for the children, neither shall the children be put to death for the fathers; every man shall be put to death for his own sin,”
she sobbed.

He raised his hand again and she squeezed her eyes closed, preparing for that final blow. Pain exploded on her cheek and she cried out. Before she blacked out, Hodgson ran toward her father, his gaze seething with hatred.

The harsh memory shook through her body and she bolted up in bed. Breathing heavy, moisture ran from her face and down her neck – a mixture between tears and sweat. She’d finally remembered what happened...and now knew why she’d chosen to forget.

She didn’t beat her father. He’d beaten her!

So why had he accused her? Why had he pointed the accusing finger at her knowing this whole time...

Her mind stop. Refusing to believe. Could he have done the crimes slandered against her? Could he have been the one who murdered Mary?

Oh, please God, no!

Gingerly, she ran her fingers over the lump still on her cheek and flinched. Sobs wracked her weak body and more tears sprang forth. Could she make the authorities see she had not committed a crime?

Shaking, she scooted to the end of the bed. She must leave here. Soon. Tonight. If her father knew she remembered...he’d beat her to death for certain. As she sank her feet into the rug, she glanced at the bed-stand. A cup of broth sat there, the heavenly aroma tickled her senses and made her stomach growl. It had been a while since she’d eaten last. Maybe even before she left the Fielding estate.

With an unsteady hand, she brought the broth to her mouth and sipped. The heated liquid trickled down her throat and into her empty stomach, making her want more. She gulped the rest and set the empty cup back on its saucer. Her limbs trembled and she cursed herself for not eating these past few days to keep up her strength. How could she escape her murderous father this weak? She had to escape. She must return to Nick and tell him what she remembered. She would tell Mr. Lewis and he would help her as well.

She stood and the room tilted. Bracing her hands on the nightstand, she closed her eyes and breathed deep. Perhaps this was the punishment she received for lying in bed for so long.