Pandora shoved Marcy up against the tomb. Marcy saw the dagger coming right for her chest. Startled, she dropped her knife and grabbed Pandora’s wrist with both hands. After considerable effort, she managed to push Pandora away from her.
The knife! She had to get the knife!
She ran around the tomb and looked for it, but it was too dark to see where it was.
Pandora came after her. Marcy ran to the other side of the tomb, narrowly missing the dagger as Pandora swiped it at her.
“Get out of here,” Lewis called out to Marcy. “Run!”
Marcy was about to ask him what he was going to do, but since Pandora continued approaching her, she decided to take his advice and left the mausoleum. Pandora was coming after her. That meant, for the time being at least, Lewis was safe. And there simply wasn’t enough room in the mausoleum to keep getting away from Pandora.
Marcy raced down the wet steps. The soft soles of her slippers provided no traction, and she fell on her face. Thankfully, she landed on the soft ground.
Marcy scrambled to her feet and backed away as Pandora approached her.
“You shouldn’t have come to London, Marcy,” Pandora said. “You should have stayed in hiding after you thought you murdered my mother.”
Marcy bumped into a gravestone in shock. Thought you murdered my mother. Thought? Thought!
“You knew about the hemlock in the den?” Marcy asked, hardly believing her ears.
“You’re so gullible,” Pandora snapped. “After all this time, it never once struck you as odd that the will and the poison would be set out where you could find it while I took my mother for a walk? I knew you were snooping around in our rooms.” Pandora brushed the rain from her eyes. “Do you think it was easy to act before you changed your mind?”
Marcy went around the gravestone as Pandora continued stepping toward her, the dagger pointed in her direction. The smart thing to do would be to run. Maybe she might even try to pry the dagger from Pandora’s hand. But she had to know the truth.
The past had haunted her for six long and terrible years. The prospect of finding absolution was too enticing to turn down. If she didn’t find it now, she never would. And the only way she could think of to do that was if she kept Pandora talking.
“But I did put poison in the decanter,” Marcy said.
“And shortly after that, you ran back to the den to get rid of the sherry in it,” Pandora replied, advancing toward her. “I saw how terrified you were when you saw the missing glass. I was in the den when you took the decanter. I was hiding behind the drapes with a glass of sherry in my hand. I suppose if you knew I was there, you would have prevented me from giving that glass to my mother.” She scanned Marcy up and down in disgust. “You were a coward. I almost respected you. But then you didn’t have the courage to follow through with it, even though I set it up so that you believed my mother killed your father.”
Believed? “Your mother didn’t kill my father?”
Pandora’s lips curled up into a satisfied grin. “No. She loved him. She never would have done him any harm.” She lifted the dagger so it was eye level with Marcy. “That old fool left money to his nephew, money to my mother, and the rest to you. None of it was going to me. He expected me to marry one of his younger friends, but you know how things are. A lady doesn’t own the money her husband has while he lives. She has no say in what she can do or when. She’s at his mercy.” She scowled. “You’re not going to get your inheritance. I worked hard for it. You ran off and hid. I did what was necessary. I stayed around. That money is rightfully mine.”
Money. This was all about money. All this time, Marcy had thought Pandora was angry at her for her mother’s death. But she was really angry because Marcy was still alive. And worse, Marcy had come to London where she might claim her portion of the inheritance.
A flicker of determination lit Pandora’s eyes, and Marcy knew she wasn’t going to get any more answers. Pandora was done talking. Now all she wanted to do was get rid of her.
Marcy turned and ran across the cemetery. Pandora was dangerous. More dangerous than she’d ever imagined. If Pandora could kill her own mother and not even care, she could kill anyone without a trace of remorse.
As Marcy ran down another row of gravestones, she saw the exit to the cemetery. She might be able to make it out. Then she could go up to someone’s home and seek help. The nearest home from here wasn’t that far away. Fifteen minutes, maybe ten, if she ran fast enough, and she could ran faster than Pandora.
No. I can’t leave Lewis. If I leave, Pandora may go back to the mausoleum and kill him.
Granted, he was safe at the moment, but he was tied up. He was still vulnerable. She had to get the rest of those ropes off of him.
She made a turn down another row that took her away from the exit. She knew she couldn’t keep running from Pandora all night. Sooner or later, one of them would grow tired. Sooner or later, one of them would outlast the other.
Currently, Marcy had managed to gain a good distance ahead of Pandora, but her lead couldn’t last forever. Pandora had the breeches and boots. She didn’t have a wet gown weighing her down or slippers that gave her no traction across the slippery terrain.
Marcy never should have dropped that knife. It could have been the fatal mistake she’d made this evening. If only she could find something—anything—that she might be able to use as a weapon…
She searched the area around her. Surely, there must be something she could use. She caught sight of a tree branch that had fallen by one of the graves. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was thick enough where it might hold Pandora back.
Marcy skidded to a stop but fell and landed on her back. Ignoring the pain, she rolled onto her knees and scrambled behind the nearest gravestone, glad it was large enough to hide her. She collapsed against it and waited.
She expected Pandora to find her. She thought for sure that Pandora would appear at any moment and drive the dagger into her chest. But it never happened. Pandora ran past her.
Marcy waited for a few seconds as Pandora’s footsteps got further away. She could hardly believe her luck. She was still alive. Her arm was bloody from her wound and her back hurt, but she was still alive to fight for both her and Lewis.
She pushed some strands of wet hair from her eyes then crawled over to another gravestone. She carefully rose up on her knees and peered over it.
Pandora was still running away from her. Pandora was looking around, but she wasn’t looking in her direction. Pandora had lost her.
Marcy knew the reprieve was temporary. Pandora would find her soon enough. And Marcy had to be ready when she did.
She glanced over at the fallen tree branch and crawled over to it, barely feeling the rocks and clumps of mud under her hands and knees as she did so.
She grabbed it then turned to head toward the mausoleum. Her gown got caught on a tree root that was jutting out of the ground. She shoved at the root with her slipper. After several thrusts at it, the gown gave way, causing a rip in the fabric, and it damaged her slipper. She turned from the root and proceeded forward. Her slipper fell off her foot.
Never mind that. You need to get to Lewis. The last thing you should worry about is a torn slipper.
If she could push past the pain in her arm and back, she could manage with a bare foot. She faced forward and continued toward Lewis.
From five rows away, Pandora yelled, “You can’t hide from me, Marcy!”
Keeping low, Marcy continued heading for the mausoleum…heading for Lewis. If she could get to the knife, then she could cut the ropes binding his wrists and feet together. If she could do that, then they could run out of the cemetery and seek help. Stephen and Patricia had the gypsy locked away where she could no longer hurt them. She and Lewis could do the same with Pandora.
“It’s pointless to hide,” Pandora yelled. “Only cowards hide. At least have the courage to show yourself and fight for what you want.”
Marcy wasn’t too
far from Lewis. She only had two more rows to go.
“I tire of this game,” Pandora said. “This has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”
Marcy stiffened. This time Pandora’s voice was closer than it’d been before. That wasn’t good. It meant she was closing in on her.
She might be going to the mausoleum. She might suspect you’ll be going to Lewis. She used Lewis to bring you here.
Marcy gripped the tree branch and kept heading for him. She was still closer to the mausoleum. She could get there first if she concentrated on going as fast as she could.
Giving a quick look right and left, she went across another row of gravestones then zigzagged over to the next row.
One more row to go. One row and five gravestones, and she’d be at the mausoleum.
“All right, Marcy,” Pandora called out, her tone impatient. “I’ve had enough of this. I’ll take care of your husband first. Then I’ll deal with you.”
Pandora’s voice was even closer this time. Marcy hadn’t realized Pandora had been moving so quickly. From the sound of it, Pandora was running toward the mausoleum.
Marcy needed to get there first. And if that meant she had to give up her location, then so be it. She was ready to get to her feet when Pandora jumped over a gravestone and slammed her into the ground.
She elbowed Pandora in the stomach and swung the branch at her before Pandora had time to react. The branch hit Pandora in the shoulder. Pandora fell to the ground, landing against one of the gravestones. Marcy swung the branch at her again, but this time Pandora dodged it.
With a grunt, Marcy swung it at Pandora a third time, and this time, the branch struck Pandora in the face. Pandora screamed in pain. Marcy took the moment to reach for the dagger.
Pandora, however, was too quick. She shoved Marcy back. Then she tried to stab Marcy. Marcy blocked the dagger with the tree branch. The blade sunk into the wood. Pandora tried to pull it out, but Marcy yanked the branch away from her. When Marcy saw that Pandora didn’t have the dagger, she inspected the branch and saw that the dagger was still lodged in the wood.
Marcy pulled at the dagger, but the rain made the handle too slippery. No wonder Pandora couldn’t get it out.
Lewis. She needed to get to Lewis.
Marcy turned to go to the mausoleum, but Pandora grabbed the hem of Marcy’s gown. Marcy stumbled into a gravestone. She almost dropped the branch. She gasped. She couldn’t let go of it. No matter what else she did, she must hold onto it. It was her only way of defending herself.
Once she found her balance, she swung the branch at Pandora. Unfortunately, she missed.
Pandora grabbed onto a part of the branch in an effort to pull it out of Marcy’s grip. Marcy clutched it to her chest and kicked at Pandora, realizing too late that a bare foot on wet ground was just as slick as a slipper was.
Pandora shoved the branch, and Marcy, away from her, hurling Marcy to the ground. Marcy landed flat on her back, a position that didn’t offer her much advantage, given the fact that Pandora was now hovering over her.
Marcy struggled to get the branch up so she could strike Pandora, but she didn’t have time. Pandora reached down and snatched the branch from her. Then, before Marcy could figure out what was happening, Pandora was on top of her, pinning her in place. Pandora pushed the branch down on Marcy’s throat.
Marcy tried to wiggle out from under Pandora, but she was sufficiently held in place. Worse, she couldn’t breathe. She reached out to Pandora, trying to do something—anything—to throw her opponent off guard, but there was nothing she could do.
I’m sorry, Lewis. I’m sorry I failed you.
She closed her eyes and waited for the shadow of death to pass over her.
Without warning, the weight of the branch left her throat, and she could breathe again. She took a deep breath. The sudden burst of air burned her lungs, but it came as a much needed relief. In the next instant, she was coughing.
Lewis threw Pandora off of her and knelt in front of her. He put his hands on her face and turned her head so that she was looking at him. “Marcy?” he asked once she stopped coughing.
She stared at him in disbelief. Was she really seeing him? Or had she actually died without realizing it?
He lifted her up and brought her into his arms, holding her tightly to him. Once she overcame her shock, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the nape of his neck.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “We don’t have to worry about Miss Charville anymore.”
“How…” Noting the soreness in her throat, she paused then forced out, “How did you get out of the mausoleum?”
“Thanks to you, I had a knife to free myself from the rest of the ropes restraining me.”
She hadn’t even seen where the thing had gone. Thankfully, he had.
“I found your slipper by the tree, so I followed your tracks until I found you and Miss Charville over here,” he continued. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that I got here before it was too late.” He pulled away from her and showed her the knife protruding from Pandora’s back. “She won’t be giving us trouble anymore.”
Just to be sure Pandora wasn’t pretending to be dead, Marcy left his arms and went over to her. She shook her. Blood seeped out of Pandora’s mouth but was quickly washed away by the rain falling over her face. She was dead. She really was dead.
Marcy returned to Lewis and collapsed against him, tears coming to her eyes. It was over. After all this time, it was all over. The guilt. The fear. The pain. The sorrow. All of it was gone. In its place was the absolution she had thought would always be out of her grasp.
“You’re shivering,” Lewis said. He moved away from her and shrugged out of his frock coat. He wrapped it around her shoulders. “Do you think you can walk back to the townhouse?”
With a nod, she let him help her up.
He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her past Pandora’s body. “I’ll send for a constable once we’re in dry clothes. He’ll know what to do about all of this.”
She leaned into him, aware that she was never going to be the same after tonight, and for that, she was grateful. The shackles of the past were no longer going to tie her down like a prisoner. As terrible as the evening had been, she’d been given the gift of a fresh start. From this point forward, she was going to be free to fully embrace her life with Lewis.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Six weeks later, Marcy waited in the drawing room for Lewis to return with the constable. She had thought they’d already settled the matter with Pandora. She and Lewis had told the constable everything that had transpired. She’d even added the details about her past and why Pandora had known her. The constable had taken a few days to investigate the entire scope of the case, and he’d found Lewis and Marcy innocent of any wrongdoing. So she had figured it was over.
But that morning, Lewis had received a summons to see the constable, so he’d left the townhouse. The constable had added that he planned to bring someone to meet Marcy. She couldn’t imagine who that might be, but she made tea and scones for the occasion and brought them to the drawing room.
Then she paced the length of the room until she saw a carriage pull up to the front of the townhouse. She watched as two gentlemen followed Lewis out of the carriage. One was the constable, and the other was one of her male cousins that she hadn’t seen since her father’s funeral.
Gasping in surprise, she hurried to the front door and opened it. As soon as her cousin saw her, his face broke into a wide grin and he rushed up the steps. “Marcy, it’s really you!” He gave her a hug then cupped her face with his hands. “The last time I saw you, you were only fifteen. And here you are, a mature young lady.”
“You haven’t changed at all, Baldwin,” she replied. “You were twenty-two, or was it twenty-three, at my father’s funeral?”
“Twenty-two.”
“You look like you haven’t aged a day since I last saw you. Well, you’re broader in
the shoulders, but that’s the only discernable difference I can see.”
He chuckled. “Gentlemen in our family age well. That’s why we look younger than we are.” He let go of her and turned to the constable. “Yes, this is my cousin.” He glanced at Marcy. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”
“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” she said. “The last time we talked, you said you were heading for Scotland.”
“I was there for a couple of years, but then I took up residence in France. The constable sent for me. He wanted me to verify you were the daughter of the deceased Duke of Edmondstone.”
“Yes,” the constable inserted. “This is now the Duke of Edmondstone.”
Her jaw dropped. “I forgot you were next in line to receive the title.”
“It wasn’t something I was happy to receive,” Baldwin replied. “Your father was a good gentleman. Is it true that he was murdered?”
She nodded. “Pandora poisoned him. I thought it was her mother, but Pandora came out and admitted she’d done it.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t have a good feeling about her. I had thought once she married the Duke of Philton you wouldn’t have anything else to do with her.”
“Things ended up much differently than either of us expected.” Remembering the constable and Lewis, she urged the three gentlemen to enter the townhouse. “We should continue this conversation in the drawing room.”
Once she shut the door, she hurried into the drawing room to pour everyone some tea.
“Is it true that you were a maid for a while?” Baldwin asked her.
“Yes.” She handed everyone some tea. “After I thought I poisoned my step-mother, I ran and hid at Mr. Bachman’s manor as a maid. I was too scared to go anywhere else.”
“At least you know you didn’t really do it,” Lewis spoke up.
“If Miss Charville hadn’t been one to keep record of her activities, the case wouldn’t have been so easily resolved,” the constable said. “Miss Charville had volumes of journals in her bedchamber with details of everything she’d ever done. It’s rare I come across a narcissist, but there’s no doubt she qualified as one.”
One Enchanted Evening (Marriage by Fairytale Book 2) Page 19