The Victorian Gothic Collection Boxed Set 1-3

by Chasity Bowlin

  “A better question would be whether or not he will like me,” Madame Leola replied. “I think most men of the cloth have a very firm opinion of women such as myself.”

  Adelaide looked at her friend. “Father Thomas grew up at Cysgod Lys. His father worked there. I think you will find him to be far more open minded when it comes to dealing with such difficult places than any other man of the cloth you have encountered.”

  Mollified by that explanation, Madame Leola nodded. “We shall soon see.”

  The carriage rolled onto the small lane that spanned the front of the church and rectory. As they disembarked, music could be heard coming from within the church, but Father Thomas appeared in the doorway of his small home.

  “The organist is checking that all is well. It was tuned just yesterday,” Father Thomas offered. “Come in, my friends! Thanks to the generosity of Lord Montkeith’s kitchens, we have a feast laid before us and I cannot wait to partake of it.”

  Eldren entered first, Adelaide at his side, with Lord Mortimer and Madame Leola at the rear. Mr. Barton was seated before the fire and rose as they entered. The book was sitting on the side table with a stack of leather-bound journals and sheafs of paper beside it.

  “As dinner has already been laid, we shall eat and talk all at once,” Father Thomas said, and led them all through to the small dining room. It was a tight fit and gathered around the ancient, scarred table, they were all jumbled knees and elbows. But it was cozy in the end. Father Thomas said grace, keeping it rather short and sweet.

  Then they were all seated and they all served themselves from the many dishes that had been sent down from Cysgod Lys.

  “Now, with our plates full and our hearts and minds open,” Father Thomas said, “What vile thing has brought you here?”

  “Where is Igrida’s final resting place?” Adelaide said.

  “Why would you ask that?” Eldren demanded.

  “Because I think I must destroy Cysgod Lys, but I think if we do not also destroy what remains of her, we will be doomed to fail… Does it say so in that book, Mr. Barton?” Adelaide asked.

  Mr. Barton frowned. “I’m afraid it doesn’t. The last entry in the book is what you suspected… it was a spell or incantation. And one like I’ve never read before. It bound her to the house, merging her essence, for lack of a better word, with that of the house. I would assume then, that she remains within it. But the question of where is one I cannot answer.”

  “The cellars,” Eldren said. “There are many dark, dank places down there. There is one possibility. We could ask Frances.”

  Everyone gasped. But it was Madame Leola who answered. “And receive nothing but lies for your trouble. She’s a murderer, a liar, and a woman who would sacrifice her own child through some dark magic ritual to have the power of Igrida. Do you really think she’d ever tell you the truth?”

  Mr. Barton guffawed. “I translated the book, but all this is madness. Surely none of you believe these things are real? Thomas? You must say something!”

  Father Thomas shook his head. “I understand your disbelief, but I sit here as a man of God, and I cannot deny that these things they speak of are real and have occurred here in the place for centuries. There is evil at Cysgod Lys. I’ve felt it myself. Were I a man of lesser faith…”

  Barton stared from one to the other of them, and while clearly not convinced, he did appear to be compelled by their conviction, specifically Father Thomas’. “What do you need of me?”

  “Is there any reference to a hiding space she would utilize or any secret chamber that was her refuge?” Madame Leola asked.

  “Well, she talked about a room in the cellars of the keep. It wasn’t a grand house then. Most of what is Cysgod Lys now has been cobbled together over the past few centuries around that original structure. Is the interior of the ancient keep still intact, Lord Montkeith?” Barton asked.

  “It is. Though where the old ends and the new begins it is impossible to tell,” Eldren replied. “Less impossible in the cellars, though.”

  The pieces began to fall into place for Adelaide then, one puzzle piece clicking easily into the next. “That room you used in the cellar,” she reasoned. “She’d never had any issue with you being in there until we returned home from Chester. She would not risk you being in there while I was in the house for fear that we would discover her together!”

  “Not to appear snide or dismissive,” Lord Mortimer interjected, “But why you, Lady Montkeith? What is it about you that makes you such a threat to her?”

  “Because I’m not descended from Alwen Llewellyn,” Adelaide stated flatly. “I’m a descendent of Igrida herself.”

  Father Thomas leaned forward, clearly pushed at the turn of events. “How is that possible? Igrida was the only survivor of her village and all of her offspring were also born of Alwen!”

  Mr. Barton stood up. “There is something in the book that pertains to that. Let me get my notes.”

  The older man rushed off and returned moments later with the entire stack of journals and the book. He was flipping through them as he walked. As he neared the table, he held up one of them and said, “Ah ha! Here it is! Igrida mentioned in passing that the body of her younger sister was never found. She personally inspected the dead to make sure that all members of her family were accounted for, but a wee girl apparently vanished in the heat of battle.”

  Adelaide knew then it was time to confess all. “My mother came to me in a dream. She told me that the only surviving member of Igrida’s family was taken in by gypsies. I am the one who can destroy her because her blood runs in my veins.”

  “How?”

  “You must consecrate her grave with your blood.”

  Those quietly spoken words were uttered by Leola. Everyone in the room grew silent.

  After a long moment, the silence stretching between those present, Adelaide broke it. “The black figure looming over me last night… and today, she manipulated my vision of the maid so that young girl would wear her horrible face,” Adelaide said. “I thought that she looked like the mummies I’d seen in museums in Paris and London. And then I thought of the peat bogs and the bodies they had discovered there that are believed to be thousands of years old and still preserved… If she were buried in the dirt in that cellar, would the soil here preserve her that way?”

  “It could,” Mr. Barton said. “It’s similar enough to those bogs. Right there on the edge of the moor? It is quite possible she may have prepared a peat tomb for herself in an effort to preserve her body.”

  “The incantation you mentioned,” Eldren began, “You said it was unlike anything you’d ever read before. Why?”

  Mr. Barton shook his head. “The wording was so specific, my lord. So long as her remains are intact and so long as they rest upon the soil of Cysgod Lys, it states she will be eternal. That the stone and wood of that house are her bones and the water flowing in it and under it are her blood. It was very intricately written.”

  “We must find her body, we must consecrate it with my blood and we must bury her,” Adelaide insisted. “It is the only way.”

  “The churchyard is holy ground,” Father Thomas said, “We could bury her there in secret.”

  “No,” Adelaide said. “We will bury her on the moor, and then we will destroy the house so that no source of power remains for her. The moor has its own power, you see?” Just uttering the words made her feel sick. It was a gargantuan and dangerous undertaking. And yet she knew it was the only way. As with so many other things and per Leola’s instruction, instinct had led her to make the statement and it resounded with truth for her. It was the only way.

  “It is too dangerous and I forbid it,” Eldren said sharply.

  “You cannot,” Adelaide said simply.

  “I can and I will! I am your husband. If you seek to do this, she will know what we are about and everything we have seen of her so far will pale in comparison to the horror she will visit upon us then,” Eldren insisted.


  “Lord Montkeith,” Leola began, “Adelaide is right. It is the only way. And we will do what we must to offset Igrida’s tricks and games. We will search together. Adelaide can give up a vial of her blood for each of us. Father Thomas can tell us what words to say to consecrate her body in a holy way. Then we will remove it to the moor and the dead who linger there will not allow her to roam. Not ever again.”

  “Their plan, my lord, as bizarre as it sounds,” Barton explained, “Does address every aspect of the incantation, essentially undoing it line by line. You see, Igrida used her blood to bind herself to the house, just as she’d used her blood to bind the spirits of her family to the moor when they were slaughtered.”

  Adelaide reached for Eldren’s hand, holding it in both of hers. “We must do this! Isn’t the chance to be free of her for all our tomorrows worth the danger we face today?”

  “Nothing is worth the danger of losing you,” he replied. “Nothing.”

  “I can’t, Eldren. I can’t let her continue to torment you and everyone else here. She must be stopped. No matter the cost.”

  “I will pray for all of you. And I will provide shelter in the church for all of the staff,” Father Thomas said. “For what it is worth, my friend, I believe that your wife is correct. It is time to free yourself from this accursed evil.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Following the disclosure of Adelaide’s ridiculous and unnecessarily risky plan, dinner had become a very subdued affair. The silence in the carriage as they rode back toward Cysgod Lys was deafening. The only sound was the creaking of carriage wheels and the clomping of horses’ hooves. The tension was palpable.

  As they neared the house, it only got worse. The closer they came to the source of all their fears and worries, the more they all seemed to feel the pressure of it. Madame Leola and Lord Mortimer disembarked first, leaving Adelaide and Eldren alone in the carriage. Eldren climbed down and then offered his hand. But as her feet touched the ground, she heard him let out a muffled curse.

  “Brynne, I’ll take the lantern, if you please. Her ladyship and I are going for a walk,” Eldren said to the driver.

  “In the dark, my lord?” The driver said.

  “Yes. In the dark,” Eldren snapped. “There’s a package in the carriage. Have it taken inside.”

  “To Madame Leola only, Brynne,” Adelaide said. “We cannot afford to let that very important information get mislaid.”

  Eldren wished fervently that she had never found that blasted book. It seemed that it had brought nothing but trouble. Taking the lantern from the clearly troubled driver, Eldren took Adelaide’s hand in his and headed in the direction of the path to the beach. If they were going to speak freely, it seemed the only place to do so. He needed more than half answers. Neither uttered a word until their feet sank into the sand.

  “Why are you so upset?” Adelaide asked.

  “I’m not upset, Adelaide. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that what we are about to do will go horribly, catastrophically wrong,” he replied. “And I need some assurances from you as well as a more detailed explanation of many, many things.”

  “What things, Eldren? You’re being unreasonable.”

  “On the contrary,” he said. “I’m the only person who continues to be reasonable. Madame Leola makes no sense at all, half the time. Lord Mortimer is so enamored of her that he cannot see anything else. And you… it’s all dreams and instinct and just knowing. You were, upon your arrival here, one of the most pragmatic women I’ve ever encountered in my life, and now I don’t know what to make of you. “

  She pulled her hand from his. “I see. Lord Mortimer is so enamored of Leola he simply humors her. But you cannot humor me, you must challenge these foolish notions that I’m now given to. Is that correct? Or have I misunderstood?”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it that way. Everything you have predicted, everything you have seen, thus far has been accurate. But this, Adelaide, what you suggested at dinner is a risk unlike anything else we’ve undertaken. And I can’t walk blindly into that!”

  “I’ve walked blindly into everything! Marrying you, this house and all the horrible things that are inherently part of it… And I wouldn’t change any of it! I realize this plan may sound extreme, Eldren, but it’s the only way!”

  “Why?” He asked. “If all it takes is someone with Igrida’s blood, why hasn’t anyone else discovered this over the years?”

  “Because there’s been no one here who had Igrida’s blood that did not also have the cursed Llewellyn blood in their veins. It’s all in the books!”

  “But you haven’t read them,” he pointed out. “So how do you know that?”

  She shook her head. “I cannot explain it. Perhaps, as Madame Leola has her spirit guide, my mother has become mine. She’s been leading me to this moment with none of us being the wiser.”

  Eldren stepped away from her and stared out at the black, black water. “Adelaide, Igrida’s stock in trade is to twist your memories and use them against you. How can you be certain it’s truly your mother?”

  “You said it yourself. Igrida twists things. So I can’t know and I can’t be certain. It’s very possible that I only know these things and feel these things because I do have a blood connection to Igrida, because as horrid as she is, she is somehow a part of me,” Adelaide replied softly.

  “You are not her. You are nothing like her,” Eldren insisted. “There isn’t a shred of wickedness inside you. You wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

  “And she doesn’t have the capability not to cause pain. If it were her presenting as my mother, it would be something dark and twisted. And I think there is a reason that I have not seen my mother until my dream. It’s because my mother has been shielding her presence from Igrida so that it could not be used that way… My blood is a threat to her, because it does not bear the curse of your line. She killed her own children, specifically her daughters, because the power of her line was passed only to the females. There has been no one with the power to end this until I came. I know that!”

  “Do you not find that convenient?” He said with a bitter laugh.

  “I find it to be fate,” she said. “Fate led me here. Fate led us to one another. We have the ability to save one another, but not if we allow fear to turn us against each other.”

  Facing her once more, he bit out the words angrily, “I’m not turning against you, Adelaide! I’m doing my absolute damnedest not to lose you! I couldn’t bear it!” As declarations went, shouting angrily about how much he loved her was probably not the best way to convey the depths of his feelings. But in their present circumstances, he wasn’t certain what else to do.

  She walked toward him and wrapped her arms about his waste, pressing herself against him. “Please, Eldren. There are things I do not understand, things about myself that are new and different… and yes, terrifying. But I have to believe that I was brought here for a reason. That fate brought us together. Otherwise, all that we’ve suffered at her hands has been for naught. Can you trust me? Can you trust in that?”

  “I’ve no choice,” he replied. “She won’t stop. I know that. And in truth, there has been more activity and more revelations about what is occurring here since you came than ever before. But I fear that this is invading your mind, that it is taking you over, and I do not want that. So many of my ancestors became obsessed with it in one way or another, either attempting and failing to defeat her time and again, or seeking to serve her in an effort to curry favor.”

  “I am not your ancestors. I am her descendent. And that is why I am different from all the others. I promise you… we will prevail. Tomorrow morning, get the charges and bring them home. We’ll set them throughout the house. On the morning of Christmas Eve, all the servants will go off to church in their finest clothes and the four of us—Madame Leola, Lord Mortimer and the two of us will remain behind and find her wretched bones.”

  “How? The cellars of this house were a maze
of tunnels and god knows what else long before she wrecked them with a gas explosion,” he pointed out. “It might take longer than a church service.”

  “I will know. My mother will guide me. Or Madame Leola’s spirit guide will lead her. But one of us shall discover her resting place and we shall bring this to an end. Have faith, my love.”

  Eldren pulled her closer, holding her tightly. Faith was in short supply for him.

  A commotion in the distance caught his eye. Eldren looked up and saw one of the footmen hastening down the path.

  “My lord! My lord! You must come quickly. It’s Mr. Llewellyn.”

  “Warren?”

  “Aye, my lord,” the footman replied breathlessly. “He’s pacing and muttering under his breath about things—dark things.”

  Eldren let out a heavy sigh. “He’s drinking.”

  “No, my lord,” the footman said. “He’s sober as my Aunt Rosie and she’s a Quaker!”

  “We should go,” Adelaide said. “He went to see Frances today, after all. Heaven knows what might have occurred!”

  Warren paced the length of the hall careful never to step foot out of the fullness of the light. Every flicker of the glass lamps made his heart race. The dark shadows he’d seen in the small room at the sanitarium where Frances was being held had seemed to stay with him, clinging to him in ways that made his skin crawl. Everywhere he looked, he saw black hulking shapes. He’d felt their icy touch as he left that building, so much so that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to climb inside the carriage for the journey home. He’d ridden atop on the box with the coachman.

  It felt as if they were closing in on him, wrapping around him and slowly choking the life out of him. Was this it for him? Had he given up drink only to be driven mad?

  At first, he’d thought it was his imagination, or that perhaps seeing Frances had effected him more than he’d initially realized. The truth was that he’d never truly loved his wife, but he had loved the idea of her. He’d loved who she presented herself to be in the beginning though that had been, in fact, nothing more than a piece of elaborately crafted fiction. But he’d come to realize as he’d looked over his shoulder on the journey home, as he’d felt the weight and malice of every shadow since, that it was more than just overwrought feelings or an over active imagination.