by Lisa Norato
He gritted his teeth against calling out her name. He wanted Iris to know she was not alone. He was here. His impulse was to run screaming up the stairwell after her, but to alert Iris was to also alert the earl, and Johnny was almost certain the man was armed.
Lord Treybarwick would not hesitate to fire if cornered. He was not a rational man. He burned with vengeance and insanity. And for Johnny to use his own weapon would only put Iris in the middle of the gunfire. No, it would be foolish to follow them blindly up the stairs. His best defense was surprise, but he must act quickly.
Johnny returned his pistol to the waistband of his trousers. “Come now, Peter, stop your crying. I need your help. Iris needs your help.” He set aside the lantern then bent down to heft the fellow to his feet and fairly pushed him through the tight chimney door into the keeping room. He examined the bump on Peter’s head, quite likely inflicted with the butt of a pistol.
“I need you to return home to your father, Peter. Quickly. Tell him what has happened and ask him to bring help to Nook House. Do you think you can manage?”
“My head hurts.” The young man’s sad brown eyes glazed with tears.
“I know it hurts, but you must do this for Iris. Your friend. It is what Lady Moon would want.”
“I’m s-scared. I didn’t mean to make him angry. He hurt me. He’s a bad man.”
“True, he is a bad man and that is why you must warn your father.” Johnny was already retrieving the lantern, ready to usher Peter out the door. “Take Snow with you. She’ll keep you safe. You know your way home, and wouldn’t you rather be there with your mother to tend your head?”
Peter managed a weak nod.
“There’s a brave lad. Here, take this lantern.” As Johnny passed the light into Peter’s holding, his gaze was drawn over the young man’s shoulder to Iris’s scarlet cloak hanging on a peg by the door.
An idea took form. It was a wild idea and it would be risky, but perhaps it might work.
Johnny strode past Peter and threw open the batten door. The dark and gloomy night carried sounds of the rushing tide and a sea wind rustling through barren branches.
“Go, Snow,” he commanded, gesturing her out. “Go with Peter. Hurry home, Peter. Please.”
No sooner were they off than Johnny closed the door, grabbed Iris’s cloak and raced out of the keeping room. He strode quickly down the long, dark corridor to the front foyer, needing no light to guide his path, for he had walked this way many times without sight. Moonlight shone faintly through the sidelights of the front door, guiding him to the staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, when suddenly Nurse Hastings appeared on the landing above.
Her petite, plump visage was revealed behind the glow of the candle she held.
“Johnny,” she called, exhaling with relief as he continued his hasty climb towards her. She looked bone-weary, her lids heavy, dark silver curls slipping out of her ruffled-edge bonnet.
“’Tis a relief you’ve come home safe. We was all worried about you, wondering where you’d gone and what you’d got yourself into. I suppose you’ve heard the news about our dear captain, blessed be. Is something amiss downstairs? I thought I heard—”
As he reached her side, the words froze on her lips. Johnny knew the instant she realized he could see her. Her eyes widened until the candle’s flame reflected in their irises.
She waved a hand before his face. “You see me, don’t you?” Her West Country voice rose breathlessly with excitement.
“I do,” Johnny confirmed.
“My-my, tragedy and miracles visiting this house all in one day. How much can this old heart take?” She began to smile but her expression dropped when she noticed the garment he carried. “That’s Iris’s cape, it is. Why do you have it? Where is my girl?”
He hesitated to deliver bad news, but the truth would take less time than any lie he could concoct. Besides, he needed her cooperation. Johnny took her by the arm and pulled her along with him, speaking quickly. “It’s the earl. He’s in the house. Climbing the hidden stairwell that leads up from the basement. And he has Iris.”
He pressed a finger to her mouth before she could scream. “I have a plan, but there’s not much time.” He touched the butt of the pistol, directing her gaze downward.
She gasped, but Johnny didn’t give her a chance to speak.
“I don’t believe Lord Treybarwick is aware that Captain Moon lives, and we must do everything in our power to ensure he does not find out. Return to the captain’s room, lock the door behind you and stay quiet. Do not argue. There is nothing you can do, and I don’t want either of you getting hurt. Now go, and do not stir until you hear my voice at the door. Peter has gone to alert his father. Help is on the way. But I might ask you to pray for us, Nurse Hastings.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, I shall be on my knees at first opportunity, I shall.” Hand shaking, she offered him her candle. “You have a greater need for this than I. Bring our dear Iris back safely. And please be careful, my brave Jon.”
Johnny worried she might be on the verge of collapse, but he hadn’t a moment to spare to escort her back to Captain Moon’s bedside. He continued on to the third floor, the candle flame flickering to the point of nearly going out as he hurried up the stairs with the cloak draped over his arm.
The vast, drafty room ran the length of the house. Entering, he shone his light to find it completely empty except for a large, elaborate fireplace.
He set the candleholder on the mantel then traced his steps back to the landing at the top of the stairs. Johnny skimmed his fingers along the wainscoting, searching for the edges of the stairwell door. He met with no success. It was seamlessly hidden, which only served to remind him that the door could only be opened from the inside. He would have no way of reaching Iris from here unless and until she or the earl released the interior latch.
Johnny began to doubt the cleverness of his plan. He pressed an ear to the elegantly papered wall. Inside, he heard a scuffle of some sort followed by a horrified gasp before a cold, aristocratic voice intoned, “Your worth has always been in your extreme beauty, Eleanor. You thought you could outsmart me, and you might have done so once. But this time, I have made certain to dispose of your lover. And you shall not get away from me again.”
Chapter 26
The pistol barrel, cold and forbidding, jabbed her side. Her legs faltered and Iris leaned against the chimney wall for support, too frightened to cry out. She stared into the darkness, unable to blink. She’d never felt this close to death. Was this how Johnny had felt when lightning struck Pilgrim Light? Did her father experience this same terror moments before he’d been gunned down on Nook Road?
Lord Treybarwick was not in his right mind. He believed she was her mother. Would he actually wish to kill his own daughter?
He released his hold and gave her another poke with the weapon. “Keep moving. The staircase shall soon reach its end. I presume you are familiar with how to open the door to get us out of here.”
He spoke as though he’d been this way before. The thought of this man inside her home made Iris’s skin crawl as she continued the upward climb. Several steps later, she was halted by a wall.
“This is it,” she said.
“Go on, then. Open the door.”
She felt around in the darkness for the latch, an idea forming. Once she opened this door, she would make a run for it. Perhaps she’d have time to close it back on him before he could follow, except that he seemed so close. Why, she fairly felt him breathing down the back of her neck. And if she did run, how far could she get before he caught up with her? She had to try, in any case. She knew her way around better than he. She would dash down the grand staircase. He’d be left to fumble after her, and should he fire, he would be aiming into total darkness with only the sound of her footsteps to guide him.
“I shan’t wait forever,” he said.
“I’ve only just found the latch.”
Iris’s trembling fingers curled
around the handle. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. She heard the lock disengage and prepared to push it open and run when she was hit in the face with the distinct scent of tuberose. It seemed to ooze through the crack in the door and float up her airways.
Mama is here.
All else forgotten, Iris thrust open the door and stepped out onto the ballroom floor.
Before the fireplace mantel, illuminated by the glow of a single candle, stood a shadowy figure in a hooded red silk cape. The figure’s back remained towards her, and her mother’s scent lingered strong in the air.
“That scent!” Lord Treybarwick pushed Iris aside and staggered forward, the pistol hanging slack at his side. “It belongs to Eleanor. I would recognize it anywhere.”
Run! Run! Run! Iris’s brain screamed. Get away, instinct told her and yet she could not move. Her feet had froze to the carpet.
“Eleanor, my beautiful child,” Lord Treybarwick said. “I knew I’d find you.”
Eleanor turned her head inside the large hood as though responding to his voice, but her face remained concealed.
Iris’s thoughts whirled. Her heart pounded rapidly. She feared she might swoon. Her mother’s physical presence was impossible and yet Iris’s every sense suggested otherwise… .
Beyond the cloaked figure, the closet door at the other end of the ballroom yawned open. A sliver of moonlight fell upon the rungs of the ladder leading up to the roof, as though her mother had come down from the captain’s walk.
The earl proceeded forward, calling again in a soft whisper, “Eleanor. Eleanor, look at me. I implore you.”
But Eleanor did not move.
Lord Treybarwick approached, stretching forth a hand as though to take her by the shoulder and spin her about. Iris waited in breathless suspense, but before the earl could lay a fingertip to the scarlet cloak, the figure inside whirled around, flinging the garment over him like a blood red sheet.
Bound and blinded by the heavy fur-lined cloak, Lord Treybarwick released a bitter cry of outrage. As he fought to free himself, he was attacked by the person who had been hiding inside. Iris saw not her mother’s fine pale hair but a dark head. She saw not a delicate, ethereal woman but a strong, hale man.
“Johnny, beware! He carries a pistol.”
Unable to shake free of the cumbersome cloak, the earl raised his weapon, but before he could take proper aim, Johnny grabbed his wrist. He thrust the earl’s arm away from himself as he attempted to wrest the pistol from the nobleman’s grasp.
“Flee, Iris. Run to safety. Go to your aunt’s house,” he shouted.
But Iris could not move. She could not turn her gaze from the scene of the two men struggling, Johnny fighting for possession of the firearm, Lord Treybarwick straining to hold on to it, his finger on the trigger… .
Bang! The pistol fired with a deafening blast that struck the chandelier.
Iris screamed. The floor vibrated beneath her feet and the room filled with a choking stench of sulfur.
The chandelier’s etched glass chimneys exploded with a shattering crash. Splinters of glass rained down, reflecting the candle’s glow like tiny, twinkling daggers. The earl hunkered within the shelter of the heavy cloak, but Johnny was struck in the arm with a large shard.
He clutched the wound to his upper arm, where blood began to ooze from between his fingers.
The earl flung off the cloak, and as Iris hurried to Johnny’s aide, her grandfather whirled around to face her. He gave her person a careful perusal and sneered with disgust. “You’re not her. You are not Eleanor.”
“She never was.”
Johnny’s voice was cold and hard. He pulled a pistol from his waistband with his bloodied hand. Fire burned in his eyes, intense emotions of rage and hate that contorted his features. He stepped forward, the soles of his boots crunching over the glass fragments, and leveled the weapon at Lord Treybarwick’s back.
“Do not move,” he said. “For if you take one step toward her, I’ll bring you down with your own pistol as ruthlessly as you shot Captain Moon.”
The earl turned to confront his attacker. The two men exchanged a steely stare for several moments until the earl let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Ah, the blind man sees.”
“He does. He sees you clearly for what you are. A coward and a tyrant. And now he is the one to hold a loaded weapon on you. How poetic is justice, is it not?”
Johnny drew back the hammer and the set the flintlock’s trigger with a deliberate click that echoed through the empty room.
Fear struck Iris’s heart, sending the blood to pound in her ears. “No, Johnny, you mustn’t. There is no need. Father is alive and will recover.”
“I am grateful Captain Moon has survived but that does not excuse the pain and suffering this villain has caused nor forgive his many other crimes — the fear he instilled in Lady Moon, the terror he has put your family through, the lives of those he has succeeded in taking.”
“Ezra Moon lives?” asked Lord Treybarwick. His nostrils flared in outrage. “Have I been cheated out of my revenge as well? Have I risked all to travel to America for naught?”
His refined features contorted into a hateful sneer, and he flung his discharged weapon at Johnny’s head. As Johnny dodged the heavy flintlock, the earl raced towards the closeted space at the far end of the room.
Iris rushed into Johnny’s arms. He hugged her close with his free hand and pressed his forehead to her temple. “Did he hurt you?”
“I am well, Johnny, but you have been injured.” He pulled away as she reached for his bloody arm, and then his gaze alighted on her face and his eyes widened in horror.
“He struck you?”
At her nod, he said, “Forgive me, Iris, for not noticing sooner, but my eyesight is not yet fully restored.”
He cradled her stinging cheek in his rugged palm and Iris soaked up the contact, the warmth of his touch and the feeling of safety it afforded. She could only imagine the red welt that marred her face and, at the memory of her fright, a tear escaped.
Johnny wiped it away with a sweep of his thumb then turned a deadly glare on the earl, who was already scaling the ladder to the captain’s walk.
“He shall be trapped up there, the fool,” he said before glancing back at Iris, this time with an earnest pleading in his eyes. “I’m going after him, Iris, but you must leave now—”
He was cut short by several distinct sounds rising up from below stairs — men’s voices raised in alarm, the heavy footsteps of a large group stomping through the house and a familiar bark.
Help had arrived.
“Peter succeeded.” Johnny smiled. “He arrived home safely to alert his father.”
Iris breathed with relief. “Peter is well then. Oh, thank the Lord.”
“Go, Iris, and receive them. And please keep out of harm’s way. I shall collect the earl.”
She glanced up the ladder from whence the evil man had disappeared. “And what will you do with him?”
“I shall keep him under guard until he can be escorted away and locked up by a parish constable. Until then, I shall delight in reminding him that his freedom is forever lost, along with a life of privilege. I intend to make certain that no one in your family need fear him again.”
“Johnny, I can hear them climbing the stairs now. Stay with me until they arrive.”
“No, Iris.” Pulling away, he held her at arm’s length. “I cannot. This is not yet over.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. Promise me you’ll keep safe.”
A slight smile was the only reassurance he gave before crossing the room to quickly follow up the ladder after Lord Treybarwick. Iris hurried back to the landing and called down the staircase to the fellows below, doing her best to raise her voice over Snow’s excited barking. “We are here, on the third floor!”
As the sounds of their approach grew closer, another gunshot blast rang out from the roof above.
*
The rungs creaked as Johnny
scaled the ladder which led to the cold, black night. He heard no sound from the earl and this concerned him. He heard nothing but the tide rushing to shore and crashing against the rocks on the bluff below.
Holding his flintlock at the ready, he poked his head out of the hatch opening and waited for his weak vision to adjust. Shape took form in the pale moonlight — that of the chimneys and balustrades which surrounded the walk — but he saw no sign of Lord Treybarwick. Johnny climbed onto the roof. Night had turned patches of melted snow to ice.
He stepped gingerly, glancing about, every fiber of his being tensed with suspicion, when suddenly he was struck in the face. The heavy, sodden wool of the earl’s great coat blinded him, knocking him over with the strength of its angry force.
Johnny slammed onto the cold, stinging ice with a bone-crushing impact. His finger involuntarily squeezed the trigger, and the pistol fired into the blackness with an explosive flash.
The large, lead bullet hit the balustrades, and in that instant, he watched them shatter to the sound of splintered wood.
The gash on his arm burned and stung. Johnny dropped the weapon and pushed himself to hands and knees. The earl was quickly making his way back toward the hatch, toward escape and the ladder that led back to where Johnny had left Iris — unprotected and waiting for Mr. Bliss and the others to arrive.
He scrambled to his feet and jumped into Lord Treybarwick’s path, sliding on the slick roof but keeping his feet.
The earl halted.
They glared at one another with contempt and then Treybarwick took one step backwards. He took another and then another, likely planning his next move, but Johnny would die before he let the man escape.
He lunged for him. The earl jumped out of reach and lost his footing on the ice. He stumbled backward into the fractured railing, crashing through it and tumbling off the roof. Johnny fell forward as he reached for him, but he was too late.
The earl plummeted, filling Johnny’s ears with a blood-curdling scream, until the nobleman met his death on the rocky bluffs below.