The Ghost Who Loved Me (12 page)

Her words made little sense to his dulled senses. His eyes became glued to the chain about her neck. She wore a necklace made of silver. His eyes noted the strange shape of the pendant, a five pointed star. She was brandishing the knife over his body, repeating the hellish words over and over again.

James gasped at the burning agony as the dagger finally cut deeply into his chest, felt her open him up. His last glimpse was of something she pulled out of his chest.

Her fist was drenched in dripping blood.

Terror filled him as she held his still-pumping heart high over his body. His last scream died in his throat, his vision fading hearing only the chanting as all went black.

~ ~~

“James!” Elizabeth was shouting at him, trying to get him to hear her. “What is it? What do you see?”

James turned and fled, hearing her calling to him and not responding. He ran away, passed through the group of servants in the hallway below who stared upward with shocked looks on their faces. He ran right through the front door, unfazed by the drain to his energy, to the grounds beyond.

He stopped running when he found the moss-covered rock in the clearing miles away, his silver eyes filled with bitterness to see the truth at last. Time and erosion worked away at the crumbling stone that jutted out of the ground.

He remembered everything, of how his wife drugged him in her solar and later cut out his heart and placed a spell upon him.

Isabelle doomed him to this place; all to have her faceless lover take his place. Now he knew why everyone accepted the imposter so readily who took his name and his life.

They were all in on this evil that was perpetuated upon him, all followers of witchcraft.

Isabelle was the one who cast the spells upon King Henry’s children that sickened them. She was his mistress and wanted to become his queen. She knew he would only marry again if he had no heirs. The discovery of the dolls ruined her plans.

Isabelle placed the blame upon her very own father to deflect her own wickedness. Then, she married him to flee court after Sir William’s execution, converting all at Westerleigh to her evil beliefs the year he was away.

James fell to his knees before the rock, his rage such that the ground trembled slightly beneath him. The castle would have shook violently had he remained there.

He bowed his head, closing his eyes in denial. There was no place to hide from the truth of that night. His wife was very much a witch, and he the fool for not seeing it.

Her evil spell took his life and made it another’s that night.

James wept until he could no longer weep of it, his ghostly tears falling upon the ground at his knees, disappearing like grains of sand into the earth.

He felt the choking bitter anger to have not made the connection with Father Creaton’s warnings to what Sir William was accused of, of not noting the timeliness of Isabelle leaving court and another accused in her place.

After some time James stood, his eyes grim and filled with resolve. While his remembering the way he died had not freed him from the curse as he hoped it might, it gave him some sense of finality. An unknown assailant did not kill him as he always thought that day he arrived home.

He was sacrificed by a coven of pagan witches on All Hallow’s Eve. His eyes widened to realize why that date was always so significant now, why he walked in the flesh after the stroke of midnight.

He forced himself to recall his grisly death once more, hearing the spell being repeated over and over again in his mind, of seeing Isabelle’s necklace dangling between her bloodied breasts.

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the rock, filled with the horror of his final moments, feeling more at a loss to know it changed nothing.

Isabelle might have sacrificed him for her evil beliefs but she never meant for him to remain here, stuck between both life and death. She made a fateful mistake back at Hampton Court as well and was nearly caught.

She was obviously a novice at her craft.

The dolls she made to kill Henry’s children merely sickened them. She failed to succeed in that. The fact of that gave him hope he could try to unravel her spell. He prayed somehow he could find the means to release him from this endless eternity and seek his final rest.

James turned and looked back at the castle in the distance, his expression grim. Elizabeth wouldn’t know where to start to ever begin to undo what Isabelle did to him that fateful night. She would refuse to even try. He couldn’t blame her for avoiding that horror.

He couldn’t tell her yet of what he saw in his visions, too horrified by it himself. The truth did not set well with him, knowing he was led to slaughter by his own trusted men and servants.

He needed a witch to reverse whatever his wife unknowingly wrought upon him. Only then would he ever be free.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth was frustrated when the end of the week approached. She left Westerleigh the following morning and James refused to speak to her. She called out to him numerous times, ignoring the alarmed looks of the servants, uncaring what they thought when they chanced to overhear her.

James didn’t come to her.

He avoided her in the days since they opened the east tower room. Whatever he saw in there must have scared him, for she saw that look of terror on his face before he ran away.

She despaired as she stayed within her apartments, frowning to recall she was supposed to be sleeping off her crazed state of the previous day, smiling despite herself to know the servants were now convinced she was quite mad.

Even Annie was regarding her strangely. Her maid tiptoed about and eyed her closely, constantly asking if she felt unwell. The girl mentioned some time away in York might do her good and let the matter drop.

Elizabeth left for London first thing in the morning to drop Annie at her sister’s house, and from there to the train station. George was meeting her in York. He wished to talk outside of Camden Downs. She dreaded that talk with everything in her knowing already what it would entail.

They would talk of what was to become of Mama when Papa passed away.

Elizabeth knew her mother would refuse to leave Yorkshire, would probably insist upon staying in the Dowager’s residence as was her right and not their grandmother’s. She had no desire to live in London with George and Marian, nor would she like living with her exiled daughter in Wales.

Elizabeth finally gave up trying to make James to talk to her and hid the braid in her vanity drawer for safekeeping. She felt a sense of sadness to know whatever they were looking for in the east tower had not freed him, but tormented him all the more.

His silence was worse than his infuriating pranks.

Elizabeth went through some of the boxes and crates just that morning, finding nothing among the rubble but old books, household goods, and clothing. She was depressed when she left the tower room, closing the repaired door and admitting to defeat.

Perhaps when she returned to Westerleigh, James would tell her what sent him into such a panic. She shivered with unease, reminded the living could do only so much to help the dead.

James had to work through whatever was troubling him on his own.

She had to deal with her father’s illness now, looking ahead to the trip with a grimace.

Edward had finally written and given his permission for her to travel, albeit after she already planned to go. He said she was to return to Westerleigh immediately following whatever came of her father’s illness, unrelenting even in the face of her own sorrow.

A light of rebellion flared within her deep blue eyes at Edward’s callous handling of her in regard to her father’s illness. She would stay at Camden Downs as long as it was necessary to see her family through this. Whether her father would recover or they planned his funeral, she couldn’t know.

~ ~ ~

James watched Elizabeth’s coach leave Westerleigh the following morning, fighting the urge to follow her and tell her all he saw that horrific night. He ignored her summoning him for the last day and a half, knowing not what to say to her. After the past came flying back at him, he faced certain truths about his situation.

With the closing of the castle looming, James had no choice but to enlist Elizabeth’s aid to find someone to make sense of Isabelle’s spell. She was his last hope. Once she was gone, the others would follow and he would remain on here indefinitely.

As much as James wished to shield her from such evil, he had to trust she was strong enough to help him. The thought of anything happening to her, filled him with impotent fury. He found little in which to occupy himself since she left, determining he had no choice but to wait until she returned.

He frowned darkly to learn Mr. Pettigrew wrote to Edward Carlisle recently, informing his employer of Elizabeth’s worsening condition, which made his silver eyes blaze in outrage. Whatever the man would do with such information, he couldn’t know.

Hearing his wife was going quite mad had yet to bring Edward to Westerleigh out of concern for her welfare. James rather thought the man didn’t care at all and couldn’t be bothered with his unwanted wife.

~ ~ ~

Edward tossed the letter from Mr. Pettigrew aside, annoyed to hear his wife was seeing and hearing things daily according to the butler. She appeared to be unraveling and the man asked what the best course of action was to handle the matter.

Simon raised a sandy brow and leaned over to take the letter off the desk. He read it, finally looking up, and frowning at the news. “This certainly changes matters.”

Edward made a noise of disgust. “It changes nothing! Elizabeth’s histrionics hardly impress me. It’s obvious she does this just to get attention. She won’t like the kind she’ll get if that is the case. I think I’ve found the means to keep my wife under control before we leave here.”

“What do you mean to do?” Simon watched his lover closely, seeing the smug smile forming and not liking the nasty light appearing in his eyes.

“Elizabeth has just given me the means to insure her best behavior,” Edward replied with a pleased expression forming on his face. “I have every right to commit my wife if she doesn’t agree to all of my terms. In fact, I may do it anyway to make sure she doesn’t get the opportunity to breathe a word of us to anyone.”

Simon’s face blanched in response. “You would not seriously commit Lady Elizabeth to one of those asylums, Edward? You’ve seen how those poor souls are treated. She is still your wife!”

“You sound as though you feel sorry for her, Simon,” Edward gazed sharply at his lover. “May I remind you what stands in our way should she ever try to fight this? It’s the best plan I can think of.”

Simon said nothing more, excusing himself from the study to go up to his room to ponder Edward’s newest scheme. He was feeling more trapped in this situation every day that passed. He privately empathized for the Duchess of Westerleigh. He didn’t even know her but felt for her precarious situation.

Edward meant what he threatened to do.

If Elizabeth refused to comply with his scheme to achieve an heir, her husband would put her away in one of those awful places until she did. He was thinking of doing it anyway. He was highly paranoid and wanted no chance she might expose him to anyone. He would no doubt leave the child with his mother when they left England.

Simon shuddered to think of the lady being committed to an insane asylum. He and Edward took a tour for a half penny as a lark. Simon flinched to see those poor creatures kept in cages like animals.

Simon thought back to first meeting Edward Carlisle and frowned. He thought of how the initial plan changed for him in the last year in regard to the Duke of Westerleigh, his own decision, and not the one who orchestrated their first introduction.

He was told Edward always took his morning walks in Hyde Park at nine sharp. He was there sketching in wait for the reclusive nobleman. It didn’t take much to catch Edward’s eye and hold it, encouraging his approach and there it began.

Though he often enjoyed women in the past, Simon was open to taking male companions too. It was a fact that was well known at the theatre where he worked. The one who approached him offered him money to secure the Duke of Westerleigh’s interest.

Simon thought nothing of it and took the money, struggling to keep himself fed at the time. He encouraged Edward’s suit and soon the man put him up in a luxurious suite where they met to enjoy one another’s company away from prying eyes.

The laws were very clear in regard to what they were doing. To have been caught at this was to be arrested, for what they did was illegal in England, a fact that made Edward nervous and often paranoid that he was followed there.

Edward was indeed followed.

The plan to extort the duke to keep such facts quiet was how it all began. The one who hired him changed his mind just a few months ago. The person had an altogether different plan in mind.

Simon’s feelings inexplicably changed, coming to care for Edward, for however it all began. He refused to go through with what was intended for the Westerleighs, feeling responsible for ever getting involved.

The one who hired him was now regrouping after Edward banished Elizabeth to Westerleigh. No one could very well blame Simon for it, even if it was his own idea to send her away for a time, hoping to get Elizabeth away from London and the present danger.