“Can I get you a drink sir?” The maid asked tremulously after several moments of watching him stride up and down. He turned to face her and she swallowed a gasp at the bleak look of anger on his features. He stared at her for a few moments before answering, trying hard to restrain his fear fuelled anger.
“No, thank you.” A clattering of hooves announced the arrival of his horse and he turned. Seizing the reins from the stable boy’s hand, he vaulted onto its back. Touching his heels to the horse’s side and raising a cloud of dust, he raced out of the stables towards the road. The maid and her lover watched him pass, curiosity and concern etched onto their features.
Justin barely felt the movement of the horse beneath him as they galloped through the moonlit landscape. His thoughts raced with the beat of the hooves as they passed through quiet villages and turnpikes. Hooves thundered over the rough ground and the horse ate up the miles as though they meant nothing. He knew that the horse could not sustain the pace indefinitely and he was forced to slow down as he passed through villages. It was ten miles to the De Vire estate and time was not on his side. John was probably at her house already and who knew what he had planned. He recalled the murdered heiresses and cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. In renewed fear, he touched his heels to the horses side and increased the pace, trying to make it there in time.
Chapter 29:
The carriage drew up before the great doors of the house and Melissa stepped free, her heart leaden with what she had heard. As her mother chattered on about gossip, Melissa was thinking of Justin. She knew well that there was no hope, even if he had been able to stay there would be none and yet she felt shattered. Justin represented excitement and adventure, more than the stifled world she currently lived in. He made her feel at ease, she could be more herself in his company.
“Melissa.” She turned to face her mother. “Is everything well?”
“Yes.” She forced a smile onto her face. “I’m just exhausted. I’m going to head to bed.”
“Very well,” Her mother placed a hand on her arm. “Your father won’t stay angry for much longer. He’ll let us return to London soon enough.”
Melissa nodded but did not reply. Turning back to the staircase, she headed towards her room. At the bottom of the staircase her mother watched her progress anxiously, she was not completely blind and she knew the signs of an infatuation. She just hoped that her daughter had found someone suitable. Setting her wrap onto the banister, she left the hall and walked into the cosy comfort of the study.
Melissa slowly walked upstairs, past the glowering portrait of her grandfather, James De Vire. As always, she walked past the painting with her eyes lowered, afraid somehow that her grandfather’s stern gaze could follow her from the depths of canvas and paint.
Slipping into her room, she closed the door and leant back against the smooth wood. What had she been thinking? Justin Lestrade was a pointless choice. He could not stay and her brief dalliance could cost her dear. What if her servant blabbed? What if someone had seen them talking and made the necessary connections? What if Mary exposed her to her father? A sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes. Why did she have to be so conscious of her duty?
“Miss?” Jane’s voice sounded as a soft knock reverberated through the door. “Are you ready to retire?” Melissa opened her eyes and stepped forward into the centre of the room. The gilt mirror caught her profile and she grimaced, she was never very good at hiding her emotions and her face was a picture of misery. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to school her expression into one of calm nonchalance.
“Enter.” She carolled, not turning as the older woman bundled into the room, carrying a bed warmer. Settling the long handled pan between the bedcovers, Jane turned to face her mistress.
“Let’s get you out of that dress shall we? Raise your arm please Miss.” Melissa complied and stood like a stuffed dummy as Jane undid the laces and ties that cinched her into the elaborate dress.
“Are you alright now Miss?” Jane asked as she began working on the corset stays at her back. “You seem a little upset tonight,”
“I just feel tired that’s all Jane,” Melissa lied smoothly as the corset was drawn from her body and she stood facing her maid in little more than a linen under gown.
“Well the bed’ll be warm enough Miss,” Her maid dropped the clothes onto a chair and reached for the long linen nightgown. As the crisp, white fabric settled into place, Jane drew a brush free and motioned her towards the dresser. “And you’ll be fine once you’ve had your sleep.” With the ease of long practice, she drew the soft bristles through Melissa’s dark hair. “Don’t worry Miss, love doesn’t always answer the first time.” Melissa stilled and turned her head. “Oh you think I didn’t see? Well Miss if he can’t see the prize before him, then he’s not worth the trouble.” She drew the brush through one last time. “Done, up you get.” Jane turned back to the bed and drew back the bed sheets.
“Hop in then Miss.” Melissa clambered between the white sheets, feeling the warmth emanating from the bed warmer at her toes. Settling into a comfortable position, Melissa stared up at the ceiling as Jane fluffed up the pillows around her before she left the room. For several long moments, she watched the flickering candle flame send obscure shadows up the walls. Her thoughts were chaotic, keeping her from sleep. Minutes passed and she still did not roll over to snuff out the candle. She was still staring at the canopy above her bed when a soft tap sounded on her door.
“Yes.” The door creaked open and her older brother entered the room. He was dressed casually in his house clothes and had clearly been home all night.
“Mother said you had come home.” He crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at her. His green eyes, so like hers, pierced her pretences. “What’s wrong?”
For one long moment the temptation to blurt out all her troubles was almost too much to bear. But she couldn’t, Marcus was easier to deal with than her father, but he was still bound by tradition. He would not understand. “I’m just tired Marcus.” She lied, trying to bring a smile to her face. “It’s been a long night.”
“You can’t lie very well sister,” Marcus replied with a small shake of his head. “Who’s broken your heart this evening?”
“No one,” She answered, turning her head away, so she faced the solid armoire on the other side of the room. “I’m just tired.”
“That excuse may work on Mother but not me,” He moved forward and took her hand. “You can talk to me about it you know.” She turned back to look at him, he was looking down at her with a gentle beseeching look in his gaze. “It won’t get back to Father, I promise.” She bit her lip but nothing could stop her eyes filling with tears.
“Oh Marcus,” She sobbed finally and sat up, flinging herself into his arms. Marcus wrapped his arms about her, rocking gently as a drenching rain of tears soaked into his shirt. “It’s not fair.” Her voice, muffled against his shoulder was raw with heartbreak.
“It’s alright.” He murmured softly, letting her cry. After several moments of silence save for her sobs, Marcus eventually spoke. “What happened?” His voice was mild and soothing, disguising the outrage he felt for the person who had made her cry.
“There was someone I was hoping for and he... he doesn’t want to consider me.” It was close to the truth, hiding the lie within those simple words.
“Then he’s a fool and not worthy of you.” Marcus whispered against her hair, his voice calming. “They’ll be others far more deserving of your attention.”
“But I really cared for him.”
“What does that matter?” Marcus held her at arm’s length and stared into her eyes. “Love is not a requirement for marriage. I know the romance is wondrous but it’s not essential. You think I love the woman I will be marrying?”
Melissa stared up at him in shock, her tears forgotten in the face of his news. “You’re getting married.” It was the first she’d heard of any forthcoming arrange
ment. “I hadn’t heard…” Melissa was bewildered now, how could her brother be this close to an arrangement and she not know of it.
“It hasn’t been finalised yet,” Marcus replied with a rueful smile. “But yes, I will be marrying Lord Layton’s daughter.” Melissa cast her mind over the women she had seen with Marcus yet no one stood out. “I don’t love her,” He continued speaking, not noticing Melissa’s far away gaze. “And she doesn’t love me, but we do not despise each other.” He smoothed a stray strand of hair away from Melissa’s face, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s a marriage of convenience, nothing more. As most of these things are.”
“When?” Melissa could not conceive of her brother marrying and leaving the family home. Marcus had always been a fixture in her life. He had taught her to shoot and ride; he had tolerated her prattling questions about life in the city and hadn’t insisted that she restrict herself to purely female pursuits. With Marcus married, she would be left here alone with her parents and her father’s disapproval.
“Sometime in the next few months but not much longer than that,” He caught sight of Melissa’s stricken face and smiled reassuringly. “I’m not going to abandon you, little sister. I’ll still visit.”
“I bet my match will be sorted soon after.” She stared down at the bedspread, noting how the intricate embroidery blurred when seen through a veil of tears. Trying hard not to think about life without the steady presence of her older brother, she turned the conversation to other things.
“Most certainly,” Marcus raised his hand and brushed the stray tears from her cheek. “Don’t worry about your lost suitor; there will be others for you. Love isn’t always the best way.” He kissed her forehead and stood up. “Get some sleep Melly; things will be better in the morning.” Turning, he headed for the door.
“Marcus.” Melissa called him back; the desire to tell him about Justin was almost suffocating.
With his hand pressed against the door handle, Marcus turned back to his sister, his eyes questioning. “Yes.”
It wouldn’t take much, just a few words and Melissa would feel lightened from the weight of Justin’s secrets. The words teetered on the edge of her tongue, threatening to spill out into the open and change everything. Yet as she stared at her brother’s open face, she knew she could not tell him. Marcus would comfort her but he could not understand and Justin would suffer. She had discovered Justin’s secret and he had entrusted her with it. No matter how much she wished to unburden herself of it all, she would take his secrets to her grave.
“Thank you.” Simple words of gratitude filled the air, sealing away secrets that were not hers to tell.
“Anytime,” Marcus smiled over at her, missing her silent moment of struggle. “Sleep well.” He opened the door and left the room, leaving Melissa sat upright in bed, staring after him.
For several moments, she stared blindly into space, thinking over the conversation. What Marcus had just said was true; love was not a requirement for marriage and in some cases had proven to be a liability. Of all of her acquaintances, only one had married for love and the others had settled for their families’ choice. She fell back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Rationally, she knew that Justin was off limits to her. Even before discovering his past, he would be forbidden to her, yet her feelings for Justin surpassed anything she had ever felt. Foolish perhaps but, she rolled onto her side and stared at the flickering candle flame, she felt real around him. Even with his disconcerting ways and mockery, he encouraged her to be herself. If only she could have chosen him, what a life they could have had. Blowing out the candle, she snuggled into the bedcovers and eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.
On the edge of the vast gardens, a shadowed figure watched the lights in the house die one by one. Concealed in the shrubbery, he waited for all to fall silent before he made his move. Careful observation had revealed her room to him and patiently he gave time for her to fall into a deep sleep. Clouds scudded across the moon and eventually the man moved, his feet making little sound on the springy lawn as he headed through the ornamental gardens towards the house. Reaching the wall, he reached up a hand and began to climb. Her room was on the first floor and with the grace of a cat, he reached her window.
Melissa was dreaming, the same dream that had woken her several nights before. She struggled against the confining roots that were bound about her legs, trying to shield her face from the vicious maw that snapped just inches from her nose. As she pulled towards wakefulness, the figure opened the window and slid within the room.
He crossed the carpeted floor, marvelling at his ease of entry as he slowly drew a knife from his pocket. It was an old blade, the hilt spotted with old blood. A smile inched across his lips as he reached her bedside. One swift thrust and her fate would be sealed. As he bent forward, Melissa gave a loud cry and jerked upright, waking as though from a nightmare. Startled, the figure froze for a moment. Shocked into immobility by her movement, yet this did not stall him for long. Making up his mind, the figure lunged forward.
Disorientated, Melissa almost missed the attacking figure. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and the near dark of the room made it hard to see. Yet even as she struggled towards wakefulness, she could sense that something was wrong. A cool breeze played off her skin raising gooseflesh and she turned looking for the source of the draught. Then she heard it, the hissed snarl that drew her eyes up in time. Glancing up, curiosity turned to shock as she watched the dark figure dive at her. As though in slow motion she took in the details, the black, featureless clothing, a scarf wrapped around the face so it hid all but the eyes and the last feature, the one that drew her eyes more than any other, a knife, glimmering dully in the moonlight from window. Fully awake now and reacting instinctively, she managed to roll to the left, avoiding the slashing blow from the thin knife as she tangled herself in the bedclothes. The sleeves of her nightgown however were not so lucky and the sharp blade tore through the fabric.
“MARCUS!” She shouted for her brother as she rolled again, struggling to manoeuvre through the sheets which were wrapping around her legs and slowing her down. A hand, strong and pitiless reached out and closed around her nightshirt pulling her forward. She felt the cotton rip as she was dragged across the bed. “MARCUS!” She screamed again almost sobbing as her fingers frantically reached up and scratched wildly. A muffled oath burst from her attacker as she raked her fingers into his eyes. With one powerful blow he pushed her back onto the bed before raising the knife again.
“NO!” Almost crying with fear, she threw herself forward, seizing hold of his wrist in a vain attempt to forestall the descending knife. She could feel the strength in his arms as they wrestled and she knew she could not hold him for long. Biting and punching, the will to survive lent Melissa more strength than she thought possible, yet it would not be enough. He was stronger and once more he pushed her back, his fist connecting with her jaw and sending her reeling. He dove onto the bed and pinned her, raising the knife once more.
“Miss?” The door burst open to reveal Jane, who let out a scream at the sight of her mistress in danger and raced across the room. Throwing her matronly frame onto the man, she seized hold of his arm. The brief struggle that ensued between her attacker and Jane gave Melissa time to reach the edge of the bed. Stretching out with grasping fingers, she reached for the only weapon available. Sat on the small bedside table was an unlit candle in its metal cradle. Jane gave a scream as she was thrust off and thrown to the floor. He turned back to the bed and Melissa, who had just whirled around. Grasped in her fingers was the metal holder and candle. Without hesitation Melissa thrust the candleholder straight at her attacker’s head. A grunt of pain escaped the figure and the knife slashed out wildly.
“MELISSA!” Her brother rushed into the room and the attacker took flight, diving from the bed and racing across the room for the window. Without even breaking stride, the man dove out, moments later they heard the muted thud as the body hit the floor outside. Jane let
out a shriek of pure horror and Melissa gaped, staring at the window in disbelief. The figure hadn’t even paused before the large panes of glass.
“What the deuce!” Marcus rushed to the window and stared out. “God’s teeth!” He swore, pulling his head back inside.
The Black Lotus (Night Flower) Page 26