An Impossible Choice (All Things Possible Book 1)

by Kate Rolin

  Should he wait or go find her? How long had she been gone? She wrote that she would be back soon, but—

  An unease clenched his insides then as his past suspicions of Black Jack’s original intentions for his niece came rushing to the forefront.

  He knew then that he had to find her—but he hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin. Surely someone saw her leave. The hotel clerk, perhaps? Maybe he could provide the direction she had headed in.

  Damon rushed downstairs to the front desk where the clerk was busy checking in another couple. There was no time to wait. Roaring, Damon slammed down his fist on the counter, gaining the full attention of all three persons. “My wife,” he growled, “she left here within the past two hours with a man—did you see where they went?”

  Quickly recovering from his shock, the clerk gave Damon a knowing smile of pity, clearly misreading the situation, “Yes, I believe they left a half-hour ago. Headed east down the street, though I’m afraid they mentioned nothing to me of their intended, erm, rendezvous destination.”

  Damon immediately took off down the dark street, ignoring the three smug smirks for the time being. He had to find Argel.

  His feet flew with no known destination in sight. By the glowing light of a few street lanterns, he scanned building after building as his mind raced, but nothing even hinted at Argel’s presence. She could be anywhere.

  After what felt like hours in his anguish, though it was likely only a handful of minutes, he was deciding to turn and retrace his steps, when movement out of the corner of his left eye caught his attention. His eyes darted in that direction, but all he saw was darkness.

  Wait. No! Up ahead something moved past a street lantern and back into darkness again.

  Without another thought, Damon took off. There was no time to consider it may only be a child or street urchin—not when Argel was at stake!

  His steps quickened each time he caught another brief glimpse of movement up ahead, until suddenly he lost all trace of the dark figure. He paused to catch his breath, realizing he was now on the outskirts of town, no more street lanterns guiding his way.

  Panting for air, he braced his hands against his knees as despair began to settle heavily upon him, suffocating him.

  He’d failed.

  He’d failed his wife, unable to keep her safe—for deep down he knew something was wrong.

  He’d also failed himself. He had tried so hard to make his deepest desire to be loved a reality, that he would still end up losing the one thing he swore he’d never let go of. All because of his impudence.

  The pain was all-consuming. He was utterly lost with no idea of where to go next. He was totally without hope.

  Unless…

  Though he appreciated Argel’s deep faith, he’d kept it at a distance—something that he respected in her, but did not believe was for him. But in that moment, an overwhelming desire to pray began to burn within.

  He straightened, but still his head hung low, his hands outstretched. “Lord…” What could he say? He’d heard his share of prayers in his life, but at the moment he had no words.

  A gentle breeze touched his face then, seemingly out of nowhere. Glancing up, he found that he had come to a stop in front of an abandoned building.

  A glimmer of hope reappeared.

  In the moonlight, it looked to have been an old workhouse, away from the center of town. Most of the windows were boarded up, and the ones that weren’t were all broken or missing. The walls appeared to be crumbling and weeds around the structure were overgrown.

  The darkness from within told him no one was there, yet something inside of Damon told him to take a closer look. Squinting with hands on his hips, he scanned it again, more slowly this time.

  There.

  A door that sat ajar creaked with the breeze. Surely the town wouldn’t have allowed such a dangerous structure to stay open—a risk for mischievous youths who would surely be drawn to it. Not when they had taken the time to board up the windows…

  Just in front of the door, upon closer inspection, Damon noted the weeds were bent down—as if trampled by men’s boots.

  A shadow moved then in Damon’s periphery at the left side of the building. The same one he had been chasing, he knew it. Just as he knew deep down that he had found the right place—now he only had to find her. Catching this shadow would hopefully help him do just that. It would lead him to Argel.

  Moving as if to walk on by, Damon casually strolled along the street until he reached the side where he’d seen the dark figure. He turned swiftly to follow the direction he’d seen it go, his feet treading lightly. He crept along the side of the building, staying close to the wall and listening for any sound nearby or within. Reaching the end, he slowly peeked around to the back of the property, his breathing the only sound he could hear.

  All was still—wait.

  No. There, near the shed! It was difficult to see in the dark, but Damon squinted, sure he saw someone crouched and looking up at an upstairs window. Not at him.

  He hadn’t been seen.

  Seizing the opportunity, Damon stealthily swooped in, grabbing his victim by the collar. He reeled back his fist and swung. The resounding crack was most satisfying—but he still needed to find his wife. “Where is she?” he hissed.

  “Ow! Damon? You oaf!” The man’s harsh whisper caused Damon to immediately release him.

  “Pendenny?” He stared at the man in his clutches as the moonlight revealed his associate, head bent and holding a bloodied nose. He hadn’t recognized him without his spectacles.

  “Yes it’s me,” the man growled—somewhat nasally. “I’ve come for Argel, same as you, I’d wager.” He eyed Damon carefully, still holding his nose.

  “But…how did you know?” Damon couldn’t help but feel he was missing something significant.

  Pendenny glanced back to the building before gesturing for Damon to follow him behind the shed. Once they were well hidden, Pendenny glanced up again from behind as he whispered, “I received a notice yesterday from one of the men we had left to keep an eye on Phillips—apparently he stole away in the night nearly 2 weeks ago without a trace. I left London immediately to tell you—didn’t want to even take the time to write—but you weren’t home. A maid said you’d come here with Argel this morning.”

  Damon’s mind was reeling. How had Phillips escaped their man’s notice? Pendenny’s stealthy arrival... “You traveled all the way here?”

  “Yes,” his friend answered impatiently. “I feared Argel was in danger. I arrived just in time to see her leaving the hotel with that man from the village, erm, erm…”

  “Not her uncle then?”

  “No, but I believe he’s here also—this was the gardener, the one we passed that morning on the road.”

  “Benson.” Damon clenched his fists, remembering the name his wife had scrawled in the note.

  “Yes, that’s the one.” Pendenny paused as he gingerly checked his nose again. “Followed them here and was waiting for the right time to move in.”

  “Well? What are you waiting for?” Damon gritted out in frustration.

  “I was doing so,” Pendenny glared, “that is, until you showed up. Likely broke my nose, you know.”

  Damon groaned, “Pendenny, they could be fleeing as we speak!”

  “No,” Pendenny glanced around the shed again, “they’re still in there.”

  Damon poked his head around, joining his friend. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

  “There, second story, second window from the left,” Pendenny nodded in the direction.

  “Where? I still don’t see anything. It’s pitch black!”

  “My charade must be quite good, or have you forgot? I have excellent vision,” Pendenny grinned at him, teeth gleaming in the moonlight underneath a swollen and slightly crooked nose.

  His arrogant tone made Damon want to hit him again—just to straighten it out of course.

>   “Now,” Pendenny whispered, “I have a plan.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Argel blinked against the darkness, or at least tried. It was so heavy her lids struggled to move. Where was she, and—she groaned as she tried to sit up—why did her head hurt so?

  Muffled voices reached her ears as she laid back down.

  “Don’t know why you had to hit her,” came an anxious voice.

  “Couldn’t risk her crying out. Don’t you see? Now, we need to wait it out until the entire town’s asleep so no one will spot us when we go back for the money.”

  “She wouldn’t do that Benson, she’s my niece. She wouldn’t sell us out so quickly.”

  Benson. Niece. Uncle? Again, Argel tried to sit up. This time, footsteps quickly approached at her noisy efforts.

  “Just look what ye’ve done, ya loud clout,” a voice grumbled.

  “Oh, hang it Benson. Argel, love, ’tis me, Uncle Jack,” the man said gently as he helped Argel sit up.

  “Where am I?” Argel grabbed her head, feeling the lump from where the pain radiated.

  “You’re safe now, that’s where,” Uncle said as he grabbed Argel’s hand. “Benson and I, we saved you from that brute. We’ll take you far away from here, we promise. Perhaps America, like we always talked about.”

  “Brute? What are you talking about?” Argel’s head felt as swimmy as…as… She was so disoriented, she couldn’t even remember which of Cefin’s animals she felt like.

  “Westmoreland,” Uncle spat. “The brute who stole you away from me, from your home.”

  “And paid all of your debts?” Argel paused for breath, eyes closed. It took great effort to even put two words together, but she wouldn’t stand for her uncle demeaning Damon to her face—not to mention the fact that she literally couldn’t stand anyway.

  “Oh, Argel,” Uncle pleaded, “I made a few poor choices is all. He’s the real thief. He—”

  “You hang it, Phillips!” Benson cut in. “We need to move her and get out of here soon. ’Tis almost time.” Argel had never heard the man sound so angry.

  “Can’t you see she’s in no shape to move? It’s your fault she’s injured anyhow,” Uncle retorted.

  “We wouldn’t even be in this mess if ye’d stuck to the plan sixteen years ago, remember? You’re the reason we’re in this bind today.”

  Sixteen years ago? “Uncle, what does he mean?”

  “I—”

  “He was supposed to knock you off along with those parents of yours once he had the trust documents—but went and got sentimental over you, a little brat,” Benson spat.

  The room fell silent and Argel’s muddy mind worked to process what Benson had just said—she sensed it was important. A moment later, her eyes popped open, with no small effort. “You killed my parents,” she whispered.

  Her uncle hung his head, affirming his guilt, as Argel’s blood pounded in her ears. Initially, she felt a relief, a freedom from the guilt that had tormented her nearly her entire life, but that was quickly replaced with a flooding anger. “You…you led me to believe all this time that I killed them—me. A child.”

  Argel paused, staring at the man who now seemed a total stranger to her. Suddenly, the entire truth settled on her heart like a ton of bricks, nearly knocking the air from her lungs. “You meant for me to die that night as well,” her voice was barely audible.

  “And Pompous Phillips here declared we needed you to withdraw your inheritance, though we could have taken any girl—passed her off as you.” Argel squinted in the dark room as moonlight glinted off whatever Benson was swinging in his hand as he spoke. “And so, we had to change plans and I followed you both to that forsaken village. Remained there all this time…watching you, waiting for ya to come of age. He had a time keeping all the fellas away from you. Wouldn’t do for ya to claim it as a married woman—wouldn’t even belong to ya anymore.”

  Argel’s anger rose along with the bile in her throat.

  Trapped.

  All those years, she’d actually been as trapped as she’d felt. Unable to leave, unable to marry, unable to live.

  Still sitting, Argel scooted slightly to turn towards her uncle, trembling in her fury. “You. You did all this for-for more money?”

  He looked up, the guilt etched in his features making him appear far older than he actually was. “I’m sick, Argel. Always have been. Your father, he finally cut me off—knew I would always want more. And he was right.” He shrugged, “I’m afraid it’s just who I am.”

  “And so you killed them,” Argel flatly replied. “You started the fire. And the threat on my life, it was all a lie, wasn’t it?”

  Her uncle merely nodded.

  Benson continued instead, “Then that Westmoreland fella showed up, threatening to ruin everything, but Phillips couldn’t resist the possibility of his debts being paid, most of them anyway. As soon as you left Beddgelert, I followed after you. Went all the way to London to wait for you to withdraw yer inheritance now that yer married. Yer uncle here confiscated your letters and arrived just days ago. Why, I even spilled news of yer arrival to the papers. The missing Phillips girl, returned! Needed the banks to believe yer identity. And so, here we are.”

  His grin gleamed in the light as a cloud moved away from the moon and Argel finally saw what he held in his hand was actually a pistol. She tried her best to sound calm. “So that’s it, then. You want my money.”

  “It’s not like we’d leave you destitute, love,” her uncle cut in. “Your husband has more than enough for you both. If you insist he’s no brute, just give it to us and we’ll leave you both alone. Think of all I’ve done for you over the years!”

  “All you’ve done! All you— Uncle, I’d say you’ve already done more than enough. Take it! I’ll give it you, all of it—but I never want to see you ever again! You-you murderer!” Argel’s hands fisted at her sides.

  Her uncle sighed with relief, “Oh, Argel, I knew you’d be reasonable. Now, tell me where you put the money and we’ll leave you unharmed.”

  Unharmed?

  Argel seethed with anger. “I haven’t yet withdrawn the funds. I left it at the bank. I only have the bank documents, back in the hotel, locked in a deposit box under the bed. Help me up and I’ll show you myself.”

  Her uncle moved to help her, but Benson’s voice cut in, “I don’t think so. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “Really Benson?” Uncle turned to the man, exasperated. “Can’t you see we need her?”

  “I’ve had enough of yer excuses for keeping her around, Phillips. Sixteen years, remember? I find I’m suddenly quite tired of them…and you.”

  Pop.

  Argel’s ears rang from the loud blast, momentarily disorienting her again, but she felt a slight thud as something hit the floor. When she finally opened her eyes, she screamed.

  Beside her lay her uncle—so still, his lifeless eyes looking up at her.

  Smoke eerily rose in the moonlight from the gun Benson still held, which was now pointed directly at Argel. “Should have done that years ago. Heh, now I don’t have to share. Twenty-thousand pounds, isn’t that right? My, my, ya were a rich woman.

  “But,” panic rose within Argel, “you need me to withdraw the funds.” Slowly, she stood on shaky legs, mustering all her strength, but never taking her eyes from Benson.

  “Ye’ve already claimed it, remember? Now it belongs to yer husband, not you. I know now where ye’ve left the information. I can get that myself and write my own instructions as Westmoreland, no further identification required now.” He grinned wickedly, appearing somewhat distracted and, Argel noticed, deranged in his glee. The man was clearly going mad!

  Argel took the opportunity to glance around for something, anything, to aid her. “But Benson,” she said soothingly, “I want to help you. I’ve known you all these years…it’s what friends do. Let me help you.”

  “Help me? How?” Benson eyed her suspicious
ly, still not lowering his gun.

  “My husband has decided to leave it all in my name, so it actually is not his. Take me back to the hotel. Let me find the papers—I’ll give them to you. Then I’ll go with you wherever you want tonight, and first thing in the morning we can go to the bank. I’ll withdraw the funds myself and give them to you. It will be the most efficient way for you to get what you want.”

  “Hmm. It would be the quickest method.” Benson scratched his head with the pistol, distracted by Argel’s words. “What about that husband of yers? Won’t he try to stop us?”

  Argel snatched a piece of a metal something nearby and hid it in her skirts as Benson was distracted in thought. Her fingers slid around the cool cylinder and she realized it was a piece of a metal pipe. Thank you, Lord, she prayed before continuing. “What about him? He left me hours ago—for a supposed ‘business’ meeting, but I’m no fool. I’ve no illusions about where he goes when he leaves me in the evenings.” She tried to sound spiteful, she needed to be convincing. Benson was pointing the pistol at her again. “Besides, it’s not as if I love him. He stole everything from me—my home, my family, my freedom. Didn’t give me a choice. I’d like nothing more than for you to take me away from him. Maybe we could find a way to extort money from him as well. You could hold me for ransom.”

  “Hmm,” Benson lowered his gun at last as he thought on Argel’s words.

  “I know for a fact he has thirty thousand pounds in a bank in London. More elsewhere.”

  “Thirty thousand ya say?” Benson’s teeth gleamed.

  “Yes, and it could all be yours—if we work together.” Argel crept cautiously near the man, clutching the pipe in one hand behind her back. “I want none of it, only my freedom.”

  “Together,” Benson repeated as he looked down at her.

  “Yes, together,” Argel smiled and extended her empty hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  Benson slowly tucked the pistol away and shook her hand, accepting Argel’s offer.