“I’m sorry,” He winced as she pulled the knot tight against his raw wrist and pulled his arm back against the side of the stable. “Melissa please understand. I made a mistake. I thought he was not here and when I finally understood that he was, I made ready to leave. I couldn’t let him bring any harm to you because of me,” Raw desperation tinged his voice and he almost winced at the plea he could hear in his tones. “I never wanted this. Please hear me out?”
“No,” She stepped back and fumblingly she found the edge of the stall. “I can’t believe you let Honesty, the others die like that, never mind what you’ve done to me…” With tears blurring her vision, she staggered back the way she came, leaving Justin alone in the stable.
“God curse it,” He hissed as the stable once again rang with the sound of silence. “I’m so sorry; I never meant to hurt you. By all the hells, I didn’t.” He spoke to empty air; half wishing she would return to hold him, forgive him for his offences. His head flopped onto his chest and for the first time in two hundred years, he sobbed. Tears fell silently from his eyes and soaked into his breeches. “But at least now, you will be safe from him.”
Melissa staggered blindly from the stable and through the servants’ quarters, tears flowing like rain from her green eyes. Moving on light feet, she reached the main part of the house and slipped back into the parlour. In the dim light, she collapsed onto the chaise longue and buried her face in her hands. The tears flowed freely and she rolled over, pressing her face against the pillow. For an age she lay there, tears soaking into the fabric of the cushion as she cried.
“How could he do that?” Her voice, muffled against the pillow, echoed in the empty room. “How could I love him? Why did I?” She raised her hand and balled it into a fist. “Stupid! Blind! Fool!” With each word, she punched the ornate cushion beneath her head, feeling the gold embroidery scratch across her knuckles with each blow. In a blind fury, she attacked the cushions, expelling her rage in frenzied anger. “How could I have been so stupid?” Her next blow flew wide; her fist slammed into the wooden arm of the chair and she yelped in pain. Drawing her hand free, she stared at her skinned knuckles and felt her temper dissipate as she contemplated the tiny beads of blood that collected on the graze. Sniffing, she reached for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, composing herself. Pulling herself upright, she stared about the room, the shapes of the furniture milky and indistinct in the low light. Shivering in the chill of early morning, she pulled the blanket about her shoulders and reached to light the candle by her side. The flame ate the wick greedily and she watched the orange light dance up and down the walls.
Her rage expended, she stared at the candle flame watching it stretch and grow as she recalled her visit to Justin. In the still of the parlour, the events of the stable could be analysed more thoroughly and by dawn her anger had faded, only to be replaced with a guilt that gnawed at her insides. She sat back, leaning her head against the back of the chair as her thoughts milled crazily within her head. Thoughts of Justin roamed through her head, a myriad images that tore at her and left tears of a different sort. How could she have not heard him out? Why had she let fear and anger ruin their last moments together? It was not his fault that John killed Honesty and he wasn’t responsible for the assault earlier; no matter what he had done in the past, he had not wished John to attack her. She was acting like her father after the ball, blaming Justin for something he had no control over. A small part of her knew that she would have been safer without him in her life, but that wasn’t his fault. Yes he should have warned her earlier but she would not have listened. She chuckled bitterly, playing with her hair as once again Justin’s parting words echoing through her mind.
“What a fool I am?” She hissed to the ceiling as she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the lids. “How could I have done this to him?”
She opened her eyes and sat up, thrusting the blanket from her shoulders and moving to the edge of the seat. In a frenzy of movement, she got to her feet and headed for the door. Almost heedless to the noise she may have been making, she hurried down the hall and moved towards the servants’ quarters.
“Can I help you Miss?” A voice spoke from the darkness on her left. Melissa gave a small gasp of surprise and whirled round.
“Alice?” Melissa stared at the face of the Upper Housemaid and almost swore in frustration. The servants were up, it would now be impossible to get to the stables. Swallowing her frustration, she attempted a wan smile. “I woke with a stiff neck,” She said, trying to fob off any unwarranted attention. “What time is it?”
“It’s gone five of the morning Miss.” The woman bobbed a small curtsey and continued. “Martha will see to your fire in a moment Miss. Would you like anything?” The woman’s sharp eyes were alive with curiosity and Melissa was sure that she would be the subject of much speculation in the kitchen.
“No that’s fine Alice. I’ll go back to the parlour now,” With a dead weight settling over her heart, Melissa turned and returned to the parlour. Shutting the door behind her, she sat back on the chaise longue and stared out at the lightening sky, counting the moments until her father arrived.
Chapter 33:
“Will you stop all this nonsense Melissa!” Edward’s voice snapped across the breakfast table with a violence that she had rarely heard before. “It’s quite clear that this Lestrade has broken into your chambers and attempted to hurt you,” Resting both hands on the table; he leant forward and towered over his daughter. “Your brother found him outside, almost red handed and you would have me believe that this some coincidence?”
“He said it wasn’t him and I believe him,” Melissa ignored the warning glance from Marcus as she plunged ahead with her reckless defence of Justin’s character. “Why can’t you accept that you could be wrong?” Marcus drew a sharp intake of breath and Melissa glanced across at him. One fleeting look at her brother’s face informed her that she had gone too far.
“Damn your eyes girl!” Edward stood and marched around to her side of the table and seized her by the arms. Pulling her to her feet with one angry motion he forced her to face him. “If he wasn’t attacking you, then what was he doing on the estate? Hmm?” He shook her, making her teeth rattle. “Was he making a call? Was my daughter acting like a common whore and inviting men to my home?” Another shake and his fingers dug into the bruises on her upper arms. “Well?” Melissa could not answer as her head swam as the shaking continued. Her teeth bit down onto her tongue and she hissed at the sharp spasm pain rocked through her. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Marcus moving to stand and she wished she could tell him not to interfere.
“Father I didn’t do anything,” Her words tumbled from her lips, jumbled and incoherent through a mouth rapidly filling with blood. Her protestations were cut short as her father raised his hand back and let fly with a stinging slap to her cheek. The sound echoed through the room, shocking the room into momentary stillness. Edward had never raised his hand to Melissa before.
“Edward stop it!” Lydia voice snapped out and she stood, seeing her son ready to place himself into the fray and not wishing a further scene, she reached up and caught hold of her husband’s arm, pulling him back. “Melissa is saying nothing of the sort, she is confused,” Edward let go and Melissa slumped back into the chair, the taste of blood swirling through her mouth as she pressed her hand to her reddening cheek. Marcus crouched beside her as Lydia continued to speak; she was pulling her husband away from Melissa with gentle but firm movements. “She thinks that her attacker was larger than Justin and that is all. I feel she is frightened and confused. You know that she would never invite a man to her room,”
“I don’t bloody know anymore!” Edward’s voice stormed over all them, making the crockery rattle. “She wished to fire a pistol as a child and then she acted like a common housemaid at the Palace. Who knows what she thinks is acceptable behaviour?” He pulled away from his wife and stood over her, his face almost violet with rage. “I warned you Ly
dia about allowing her too much latitude and look what happened,” He waved across at Melissa, who flinched back from the hostility in her father’s voice. “This affair will ruin our reputation. No one will want her with this scandal attached and she could even ruin Marcus’ match. I can’t see the Layton’s accepting a son in law with such a sister. If she had any shame, she wouldn’t be speaking at all this morning.”
“That’s enough Father!” Marcus finally snapped out as he stood. He faced off against his parent, seizing hold of his father’s shirt with one strong hand. “Melissa did not invite Lestrade to this house,” He pushed his father back, his grip on the shirt rigid and unforgiving as Lydia moved to help Melissa back into a chair. “You should know she has more propriety than that,” His eyes stared straight into Edward’s, their green depths jewel bright and harsh. “I believe that she would have been killed if she had not woken. Would you prefer her to be dead?” Edward moved to free himself from his son’s strong grip, but Marcus shifted his weight and held firm. Beside her mother, Melissa looked at the confrontation through tear blurred eyes, holding a hand to her stinging cheek. “Well would you?” Marcus demanded, his voice shaking slightly with outrage as he stared up at his father.
“No,” Edward finally admitted, staring across at Melissa with a tortured gaze. “But she will not survive the scandal,” He shook his head and stared at his wife, “we will not survive the scandal,”
“I didn’t invite him Father,” Melissa shook off her mother’s fingers and stood, facing her father with new found resolution. “I went to bed and woke to find a man in my chambers ready to kill me. I don’t believe it was Justin,” Edward snorted with derision yet Melissa continued, determined to say her piece. “I have no idea how he came to be so close to the house but I did not invite him,”
“Whether you did or not, the scandal still exists,” Edward snapped, yet making no move to advance on her again. “There will be those who say that you invited your attacker.”
“Then we say nothing of this night’s work.” Lydia interjected her voice calming as she walked forward to brush her husband’s arm. We will tell Lestrade to leave the country quietly. The reason can be gambling related, an excuse that all will accept.” Marcus nodded, his eyes not leaving his father’s face. “There will be no mention of what happened here. No shame to infect the family.”
“And what about the servants?” Edward’s voice snapped across Lydia’s calm solution. “What if they talk?”
“They should know that any mention of this night’s doings will cost them their position,” Marcus retorted as he slowly released his father’s shirt. “I need not tell you that,” Edward stared from his son to his daughter and gave a huff of disapproval.
“So be it,” He uttered shortly as he straightened his cravat. “But I won’t forget this in a hurry,” he glowered down at Melissa before seizing a slice of toast and marching from the room. Lydia cast a disapproving look at Melissa before following her husband, leaving the two siblings in the room alone.
With Edward and Lydia’s departure, silence fell over the morning room; a silence that had the clarity of glass. Melissa reached for a small mirror and stared at the reddened mark on her face. Deep shuddering breaths rippled through her and she bent her head into her hands.
“It’s alright,” Marcus’ arm slid round her shoulders and she leaned into the hug, sobbing into his shoulder. Marcus patted Melissa’s back with gentle taps, comforting her as she cried out the events the events of the past twelve hours. He could feel the sobs shaking her frame and he tried to calm his own anger. He had seen Melissa the night before, had seen what her assailant had done to her. How could his father think that she had brought it on herself? Whilst he was certain that Lestrade was involved, Melissa was so adamant that he was innocent. He could blame it on the simple throes of a first crush, but Melissa was rarely so easily swayed. Granted she had been excited about her first season, but she seemed so unmoved by the exploits of her friends. It seemed inconceivable that she would lose her head over a man, especially Justin Lestrade. He felt her sobs subside and he pulled back, handing her a handkerchief from his pocket.
“Better?” He asked as she dabbed at her face and blew her nose. Beneath the snow white of the handkerchief, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were red. She still drew in gulping gasps of air and he wondered if she were about to cry again.
“Uh-huh,” Melissa could not find the words to speak, her head pounded from the sudden rush of tears and her face stung from the blow. The lingering taste of coppery blood still drifted through her mouth and she couldn’t help but think about the blind fury on her father’s face as he swung his hand towards her face.
“What on earth possessed you?” Marcus asked, pouring tea into his cup and handing it to her carefully. “You should have known how father would take your defence of that man,”
“I know it wasn’t him Marcus,” Melissa retaliated, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. From somewhere within her, a great burning sense of injustice flamed into being, helped in part by her own feeling of guilt.
“And how do you know that?” Marcus poured himself a cup and stood opposite her. “We found him on the outskirts of the estate in some disarray,” A snort of disbelief escaped her lips and he took another sip of the lukewarm drink. “If he had nothing to do with your assault then why was he there?”
“His estate borders ours,” Melissa argued, getting to her feet as she warmed to her subject. “And he’s not as tall as the man I faced or as heavy set,” Her fingers gripped the cooling cup of tea as she stepped closer to her brother. “I know it wasn’t him Marcus, why can’t you believe me?”
“Because I don’t know how much of this fancy is generated by your feelings for him,” Marcus said as he returned the cup to the table with a heavy thump. “You think I don’t know who has stolen your heart?” He pushed a tendril of dark hair away from his face and drew in a deep breath. “Melissa, he has broken the hearts of many women,” Marcus took a step closer and caught hold of her upper arm gently as he stared into his face. “He knows how to twist words so that each woman feels something for him. I understand that he has charmed you,” Melissa looked away, not wishing to hear the words that fell from her brother’s lips. “But you must understand that he lies,” Melissa flinched as he finished uttering the very words that she had said to herself in the cold darkness of the night. “Surely you have considered this?” His other hand reached up and cupped her chin drawing her eyes back to his.
“Marcus I know how this sounds,” She finally spoke, her voice soft yet firm as she met his eyes directly. “But you can’t blame him for something he has not done, yes he is a philanderer but I know that he would not hurt me,”
“How can you know?” Marcus insisted, confusion running through every line in his face.
“Because I was the one attacked,” She retorted, finally pulling away and throwing herself back into a chair. “That man tried to end my life, I felt his weight as he threw me across my own bed,” Despite her best efforts, her voice rose as her anger flamed once again into being. “I have danced with Lestrade and he is at least a hand span shorter that the man who attacked me. This I know,” She stalked away from him and headed across the room to the door. “You should trust my instincts Marcus, you know I’m not a foolish child given to obscure fancy. You have the wrong man,” She reached the door and pulled it open, “But I daresay that will not aid matters now, for the good of this family’s reputation, an innocent man is to be sentenced to exile and the real culprit goes free,” She threw the handkerchief onto one of the end tables and turned to leave. “At least my future husband is assured and that’s really all that matters.” With a flounce of her head she headed out of the door allowing her last words to drift in bitterly as she reached the stairs. “Isn’t it?”
Marcus watched her go and made no effort to follow; he knew that she would not welcome any further talk this morning. He settled down at the table and stared at th
e breakfast on his plate. The egg had congealed on the white china and though he had reached for his fork, he threw the utensil down in disgust, sending it clattering across the plate. For what seemed like an eternity, he stared down at the detritus of the breakfast table, his thoughts on Melissa and Lestrade. The clock in the hall chimed the quarter hour and pushed his chair back, a decision forming in his mind. Standing, he left the table and strode across the room with rapid footsteps. Heading from the breakfast room, he passed the lower parlour and the sounds of his parents arguing before reaching the main door of the building. Pushing open the heavy door, he strode out onto the morning air. With sure steps, he reached the stables and nodding to the two men on either side, pulled open the door. Hurrying to the stall which held Lestrade, he hunkered down into a crouch and stared at his captive.
“What the hell have you done to my sister?” He demanded, looking at the ragged, bloody figure with disgust. The straw crunched loudly beneath him and the scent of horse enveloped his nostrils, causing him to sneeze.
The Black Lotus (Night Flower) Page 29