Rebecca's Ghost

by Marianne Petit

  “In her own words Nona assures me she…”

  Edwin and Elizabeth.

  Rebecca and Tisdale.

  The linked names pounded his brain.

  The sharp sword of jealous slashed all coherent thoughts.

  “Nona, startled by your hasty departure, turned back toward the house to tell Mary ‘twas too late to stop you.”

  Indignation surfaced once again, replacing the anxiety felt moments ago when faced with her possible danger. His head foggy, his legs unstable, he leaned on the table beside him for support.

  “I’ve no cause to disbelieve her words. Yours--” he said with a gesturing point, “I am afraid to say, leaves me pondering.”

  “You doubt my words?” she said, her tone hard and filled with disbelief.

  He eyed her skeptically and noticed a red stain at her waist. For a second, he lost his sense of equilibrium and he gripped the table.

  She met his gaze with contemptuous disdain. “You, sir, are drunk.”

  She started to turn, but he grabbed her arm before she could back away.

  “What’s this?” he snapped.

  She glanced to her side.

  “Blood?” His eyebrow raised in question.

  She blinked with surprise, then recoiled in horror.

  “Do you deny this is Edwin’s?” Anger surged, pumping his blood, clearing his head of drink.

  “Nay. But let me explain. I--”

  “Tell me this…”

  She didn’t kill Duncan. He knew it in his heart. And if the truth be known, at the moment, his groom’s death stood secondary to what gnawed on his mind.

  “… Are you without anyone who calls themselves family?

  The sudden turn of conversation shot a confused expression to her face.

  “I have no one.” Her eyes took on a haunted appearance.

  His grip tightened on her arm. “You dare look me straight in the eyes and lie, when in fact I know of one called Jonathan Tisdale, your legal guardian?”

  She glanced away, then back. “I--he--guardian, yes.” She yanked her arm free from his hold and took a step away from him. “But I do not think on him as family.” She spat the word as though the mere thought of her guardian tasted like poison to her lips.

  Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair. Did she not know Tisdell was the very man who had been Rebecca’s lover? The man he had searched for; hated; who he wanted to destroy?

  “Am I just a pawn to be played with?” he asked, the words forced from his dry throat.

  Bewildered, she stared in silence.

  He stepped before her. “No need to play the innocent with me. I must admit, you had me fooled, but not any longer.” He took a deep breath, trying to control the rage building in his chest. “You with that innocent smile of yours… Were you a part of the scheme? You played that damned instrument of yours for your guardian’s patients. Is that why you lost yourself on my property, so I could find you and bring you into my home?

  “Nay! How--”

  “Knowing of my son’s condition, did you think to convince me to call upon your guardian with the intent of getting him into my home to rob me?” He reached out and shook her shoulders. “Did you think I would not find out how you played that damn instrument, while he played mind games with people and swindled their jewelry and money? They trusted him and came to him for help.”

  “‘Tis all a lie.” She broke from his hold. Her eyes widened in alarm. “I--I don’t know--”

  “You dare deny it?” he yelled.

  “Yes!” Her mouth crimped in annoyance.

  Screams of frustration welled in the back of his throat. He wanted to believe her. But the thought she’d lived with, and worked beside Rebecca’s lover, hammered his brain.

  Enraged anger blinded him. He stared at her, seeing her through a fog of confusion and rage.

  “Was it all a scheme? Did you think to come into my home and swindle me of my fortune?”

  “How could you…” her body shook, but he pushed his concern away.

  “I did a little checking into your background.” His grip on her shoulders tightened. “What other lies have you told me?”

  “None, I swear to you.” She took a deep breath. “I have never stolen a thing in my life.” Underlying rage filled her tone.

  “Did you, or did you not, ask me to sneak back into your dwelling and take an instrument that was property of your landlord? A dwelling I might add you left in a rush because the good people of the town were coming to throw you both in jail?”

  “I…” Her gaze lowered.

  “At least you have the good grace to blush at your own deceit.”

  A pitiful look of appeal crossed her face as she sidestepped him.

  “If…” he said, his jaw tight. He grabbed her wrist, “… if you lie to me--”

  “I tried to tell you about him.” She placed her hand on top of his and twisted her wrist, trying to break his hold

  Philip shook his head. “Nay.

  “‘Tis true. That day we went for a ride.”

  “I do not recall.”

  “Perhaps ‘twas because you chose not to listen. You had other thoughts on your mind,” she said with satisfaction.

  His face warmed uncomfortably.

  “You should be embarrassed.” She met his gaze with contemptuous disdain. “Your despicable behavior of that day has ruined by good name.”

  “Your good name, madam, was tarnished long before you met me.”

  She gasped in surprise and he wanted to take his words back. But the thought of her betrayal pushed his guilt away.

  He had spilled his guts out to this woman, told her things he’d never told a living soul.

  He stared.

  Had she known all along Tisdale was Rebecca’s lover? The question stuck in the back of his throat.

  “And what of Duncan?”

  “I told you he was alive. The blood… the horse bit him. He was close when--”

  “How close?” Once again, he yanked her to him. “This close?”

  Nose to nose they stared at one another.

  Elizabeth’s breasts rose and fell against his chest.

  Even though all the madness, his anger and confusion, the blood stirred in his loins, fueling his desire.

  “Now what do you suppose one would be doing this close?”

  A faint blush stained her cheeks. She glanced away.

  Jealousy, like a tangled vine, grew thick and dense, coiling around his heart. “You didn’t think I’d find out. My servants know to tell me all--”

  “But--”

  “You were seen not once, but twice with him. Not only in clear daylight by the corral, but in the barn.”

  Before she could say another word, he devoured her lips with his, breaking through the fine line where anger diminished and desire began. He kissed her hard; furious, another man coveted her, angry he felt the same. He could taste Edwin’s lips still on her mouth and wanted to suck his memory from her mind. ‘Twas a kiss meant to punish, to prove a point, but he wasn’t sure for whom.

  ***

  Elizabeth’s thoughts batted her mind like moths drawn to a light.

  He knows. He knows about Tisdale.

  Her knees shook.

  Duncan, dead?

  If Philip wasn’t holding her so tightly, she might have fainted.

  The cruel ravishment of his mouth seemed to suck the life from her body. But in the space of a heartbeat, passion crowed out the fury burning in her chest, as his lips pressed deeply into hers.

  She found herself drowning in his warmth, in his spicy scent, in the taste of sweet brandy on her tongue. Her pulse race foolishly.

  He broke away, leaving her lips throbbing from his fiery onslaught.

  Anger and desire mingled together in the clear blue depths of his eyes.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. He took a step forward, easing her back against a wall.

  Blood pounded in her ears.

  Indecision etch
ed his face.

  She braced herself, expecting the worst.

  Still holding one wrist, he grabbed the other and jerked both her hands over her head. She gasped. Her eyes widened; his brimmed with passion.

  A surge of desire built between them, hungry-out of control. Her heart thundered.

  He leaned forward.

  Her back pressed into the wall.

  He captured her lips with his. His kiss, gentler, less demanding, ‘twas as though his rage had diminished; desire had won. Warmth radiated through her limbs, making her dizzy.

  Crushed by his heaving chest, her breasts threatened to spill from her low-cut bodice. Heavy, full, they tingled through the fabric.

  Liar. Thief, a voice in the back of her mind reminded her.

  She struggled to fight the raging storm of passion building through her body like torrid winds on an angry sea. But, like a tiny ship unable to withstand the bristling waves, her resistant broke in half. She relaxed against him.

  Her heart leapt with each kiss, he planted on her neck. Her ears roared with song. But as his tongue found and explored her mouth once again, as his fingers slipped between her breasts and her nipples grew hard with his gentle rubbing, an angry part of her brain awoke, murderer, it yelled.

  Instantly her lids snapped open and remembering, only too well, that moments ago, he believed her capable of horrid acts of murder, thievery and deceit, she twisted her head to the side.

  His brows shot up with surprise and he stepped back.

  With all the strength she could muster, she wailed out and slapped him. “How dare you. How dare you say those horrid words to me and then treat me like some trollop.”

  How dare her body betray her so?

  A cold, congested expression of pained tolerance settled on his face. His neck turned red with strain.

  Dear Lord, what have I done?

  His eyes darkened dangerously.

  Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined having the wherewithal to lay her hand to another person’s cheek.

  A stifling, brittle silence hung between them like a rope swinging back and forth, waiting for the hangman’s next move.

  He clenched his hands at his side, his knuckles turning white.

  Her knees quivered.

  “Master Philip! Master Philip!” Mary cried out from the hall.

  “In here,” he bellowed, his angry gaze still piercing the close distance between them.

  Mary hurried into the study and Elizabeth thankful for the older woman’s presence, quickly stepped around Philip. She busied herself with shuffling through some notes left on a nearby table, pretending to look for a post. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mary’s round face appeared ashen; her eyes glazed with worry. She leaned against the door frame, and paused to catch her breath.

  “Master William is sick!”

  “Sick?” they blurted at the same time.

  A look of panic crossed Philip’s face. He hurried toward the door.

  Shocked, Elizabeth followed at his heels.

  Mary reached to the little bag tied around her waist, pulled out a white cloth and mopped her brow.

  “Has the doctor been sent for?” he asked, his voice high, distressed.

  “Yes.”

  “How bad is it?” Elizabeth wrung her hands together.

  Mary shook her head. “Not… g--good.”

  They hurried up the stairs and down the halls toward William’s chambers.

  When Elizabeth stepped into the candlelight room, the anxiety churning in her stomach rose to her throat.

  A strong garlic odor from the skunk cabbage used for the child’s spasmodic treatment, permeated the air.

  A fire had been laid to chase away the chill night’s air. Smoldering logs shot fiery sparks from the blackened hearth and ghostly shadows danced on the walls.

  Before her, William tossed and turned as Nona and another servant held his wrists firmly to the bed.

  Rebecca hovered overhead, displeasure etching her ghostly pale face.

  “Is that necessary?” Philip demanded his, voice shrill, his face pale.

  “Sir, ‘es ‘aveing a fit and already fell out once.” The young servant said apologetically.

  William moaned. He furiously kicked his legs up and down. Both servants leaned back.

  Even in the dim light, Elizabeth could see his eyes were watery. His face appeared flush.

  “When did this happen? Philip reached over and placed a hand on William’s forehead.

  “‘Tis came upon him quick. He seemed fine only an hour ago.” Mary said.

  Nona, her voice high, hysterical, cut in. “Oi seen ‘im playing with the cat this morning and--”

  “‘Tis that cat which brought this on,” Mary snapped.

  Horrified, Elizabeth gasped. “Nay, you speak nonsense.”

  “Tell me. What else could it be then?” Mary hurried to the bed.

  “Tis ‘er!” Nona pointed.

  Elizabeth flushed with humiliation. Her palms grew clammy. She stared at Philip seeking refuge, but he was too busy staring down at his son.

  “She’s the one that brought illness to this house. Since she’s come, the powers of darkness ‘ave fallen upon us.” Nona hissed, every word laced with malice. “Why on the very day she arrived, a black bird flew into the kitchen, a sign of bad fortune. ‘Is that not true, Mary?”

  Elizabeth glanced toward the older woman. With a despairing glance, Mary drew her gaze from her questioning eyes.

  “Oi ‘eard tell ‘is lordship’s tabaci shipment got lost. And look yonder outside the child’s window…” Horror crimped her face. “See ‘ow the bay tree withers and dies? ‘Twas ‘ealthy before she came.

  Horrified, Elizabeth’s gaze flew to the window.

  “‘Tis another bad omen.” Nona sprang from the bed, relinquishing her hold on William.

  Despite the nauseating spurt of anxiety coursing through her veins, Elizabeth picked up the hem of her gown and rushed to William’s side her gold taffeta gown rustling crisply beneath her.

  His free hand flailed above him.

  Quickly she grabbed his wrist and gently placed it to the bed in restraint.

  His guttural moans grew louder. Philip’s gaze met hers, his anger toward her replaced with a distant, despondent glare that wretched her heart.

  Mary moved to the bed and leaned over her, toward William.

  “Me wee babe.” She ran a soothing finger over his brow. “’Twill be all right. Ye’ll see. I be here with ye,” she cooed loudly above his groans.

  Elizabeth relinquished her hold to Mary and stood.

  “Death is a knocking on this door and oi’ll not stay in this ‘ouse with a witch woman any longer,” Nona screamed, hysterical.

  “Cease this noise!” Philip slammed his knuckles into his palm.

  Elizabeth flinched.

  “My child lies sick and I will not listen to this utter nonsense.” He pointed to the door. “Leave, leave this house. Be gone with you.”

  Nona’s face crinkled with disgust. “That child’s as crazy as a loon, but oi’ll not wanna see ‘im dying.”

  Philip’s face turned red with rage, but before he could open his mouth, Nona hastily continued.

  “So Mary, if’n so inclined, wet the child’s face with water and throw it over that devil cat of ‘er’s. That’ll drive the demons from the boys’ body.” With an abrupt turn, she ran from the room.

  Mary pointed to the young servant who sat holding William’s wrist. “Ye best get some water.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest.

  “Oh don’t ye go into a tither. ‘Tis not fer ye beast. ‘Tis to cool the child down.”

  “Oh.” Elizabeth stared down at William.

  Suddenly-a familiar tingle crept up Elizabeth’s spine…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Doom began to fester like poison ivy devouring her limbs. Elizabeth’s body shook. Her toes curled.

  She closed her eyes and
hoped that in the dark chambers, while all attention was focused on William, no one would notice she was having a vision.

  Illuminated in the flash of light shooting before her closed lids the name, Lady Of The Seas, appeared then disappeared as a clouded fog enveloped her mind.

  Through the thick mist she saw herself standing at the harbor. Ships of all sizes bobbed at the dock’s edge.

  A heavy sense of sadness overwhelmed her.

  Her heart wrenched.

  The sound of William’s groans flowed above the wind.

  Danger! It lingered all about her, gripped tightly and squeezed.

  She stood before a ship, the Lady of the Seas. The nameless ship, she’d seen in her visions so many times before. From its bow, the black cloaked figure of death reached out its bony hand toward her. Fear gripped her and squeezed. She saw herself lying on a stack of bags, disheveled, dress torn, tears streaked on her cheeks.

  Revulsion ran like rats across her skin, raising her hair.

  Voices erupted everywhere, a sea of nameless faces, all screaming at once. Pointing, accusing, fingers rose toward her. The villagers? Her mind whirled with confusion.

  Then suddenly the misty sea rose and slapped her in the face.

  “Mary!” Philip’s angry voice yanked her vision from her mind.

  Elizabeth snapped her eyes open.

  Water dripped down her forehead and slithered across her nose. Stunned, she stared at the housekeeper.

  “Me apologies, but ye looked as if ye were about to faint, what with the way ye head was a swayin’ and ye lids a flutterin’.”

  “Did you….” Philip’s asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.

  “Yes.” Elizabeth wiped her face.

  So he believed in her gift.

  A tiny glow of happiness ignited in her heart.

  “We need to talk.” He moved before her.

  “Yes.” Bending over William, she placed her hand over his forehead. “His fever is high. I must go prepare a bayberry tea. ‘Twill draw the sickness out.”

  She heard Mary’s quick intake of breath. Stress lines furrowed her brow. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Ye Lordship. I’ll be a needin’ a word with ye.”

  Philip nodded and followed her to the other side of the room. Huddled together, in whisper, Elizabeth could only make out a few of Mary’s cloaked words. “tis rumored… look at the bay tree… We’ve a child’s safety to think about… Nay.”