by Anna Edwards
“Oh, yes.”
Nicholas opens the drawer to his desk and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Pouring out a glass for each of us, he hands me one, and I hold it up in a toast to his health. He does the same to me.
“I’ve not had a chance to ask you how you're coping with everything? There’s a lot going on at the moment, and with you now having the freedom to be your own man, I wondered if you were managing ok? I’ve seen Tamara calm you down a few times, now.” Nicholas takes a sip of his drink and then holds it to his nose, so he can inhale the honeyed scent.
“It’s strange. Some days are better than others.”
“I can understand that.”
“The day care center was an eye opener. I realized autism is a lot more common than I originally believed. Our father often made me feel as though I was the only person with it in the world.”
“I’m glad she took you.”
“So am I.” I place my glass down on the table. “I’ve been doing some research since I left. There are a number of places like that around the country. I spoke to the manager of one. He was really friendly.” I pause, unsure of how to proceed with what I have to say. I don’t need to worry though. My brother’s always been able to read me like a book.
“You’re leaving Oakfield, aren’t you?” he asks – his face solemn.
“I think I need to. Maybe just for the short term. It could be longer, I don’t know. These four walls carry so many bad memories for me, and I need to figure out who I can be when I’m not surrounded by them.”
He nods.
“You’ve applied for a place?”
“I have. I’ve been accepted as well. I can go whenever I want.”
Nicholas places his own drink down on his desk.
“Whatever you need. You know I’ll always support you. Just make sure it’s somewhere I can visit whenever I need to get away from a pregnant wife.”
“Of course.”
We both stand up at the same time.
“You’re my little brother, William. I’m always here for you. I know you need to discover yourself, but you’ll always have a home here.”
“Thank you.”
Nicholas and I have never been touchy feely people, it’s not how we were brought up, but the embrace complete with backslapping, which now passes between us feels right.
Chapter Eighteen
Tamara
“For you.” William puts a large wad of paper down in front of me.
“What’s this?” I flip over the first few sheets and see they’re bank statements. My eyes scan to the name at the top: Viscount Arthur Hamilton. “How on Earth did you get these? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Everything about the code of ethics I operate under says I shouldn’t even be looking at these.”
“I’m sure if something has come from MI5, then it can’t be deemed to be too illegal.” William winks at me and sifts through the papers until he reaches a page on which he’s stuck a Post-it-note. “I think it’s probably a decoy, but the Viscount has been paying an amount once a week to this lady.”
He produces another smaller wad of paper and puts it in front of me.
“Camilla Fentress. She’s been interesting to research because she’s not a real person.”
“Not a real person?” I screw my nose up in confusion and scrutinize the information in front of me. Camilla’s name is in bold at the top of the page. Underneath is a picture of a woman who can’t be much older than twenty.
“Nope. It’s a company. This is actually a photo of a woman named Lindsey Sharp, originally from Missouri. Three years ago, she traveled to Los Angeles to make her fortune, but I’ve discovered she never made it to LA. She disappeared and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
He flicks through the bank statements again and stops at another marked page. “This statement is from around the time when she disappeared.”
I look down at the information in front of me and instantly see a cash withdrawal from an ATM in Missouri.
“The Viscount was there?”
“Yes. He was there and is now using a picture of her with a fake identity. If you ask me, something doesn’t add up, and that’s not just because I’ve got a mathematical brain.”
“No. We need to research this Lindsay Sharp some more and see how she became a company called Camilla Fentress.” I flick over the pages of the report William’s given me on Camilla. There’s nothing concrete in there to go on, yet.
“That’s why I’m not just a pretty face. I’ve already got our contacts on it. This could be a lead on the missing girl Joanna, or it could be nothing. But I’m going to pursue it.”
I reach out and take his hand.
“I think you’re actually enjoying playing detective.”
He shrugs.
“Maybe, a little.”
A stray hair tumbles out of the small bun at the nape of my neck. William reaches around and tucks it back in. His hand lingers at my chin, and I feel the heat of his body warm mine with desire. He leans into me and our lips meet in a quick kiss.
He pulls back. Neither of us speak – we just sit in silence, staring at each other. Sticking my tongue slightly out of my mouth, I lick what was left behind of his taste. He leans in again, but we’re stopped by an abrupt knock at the door. William stands up and rearranges his trousers.
“Come in,” he says as he looks wistfully over his shoulder at me.
The door opens, and the butler enters.
“My apologies, sir. The Duke and Duchess are still at their charity lunch, and there’s a man here demanding to speak to either the Duke or you.”
“Who is it?” William asks, and I turn back to the documentation in front of me, allowing him privacy to talk with the butler.
“It’s the police, sir.”
“Police?”
“Yes, sir.” The butler lowers his head.
“I’ll come at once.”
William twists back around to face me. I can tell instantly that his anxiety is building.
“I’ll come with you,” I offer without hesitation.
“Thank you. You never know, I might need a lawyer.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I stand, and taking his hand, we follow the butler to the entrance of the house. I’m expecting plain clothes police officers, for some reason, but when I see they are in uniform, I can’t help but feel even more uneasy.
“Hello,” – William steps forward to greet the officers – “I’m William Cavendish, Earl Lullington. How may I help you?”
“Good afternoon, My Lord. We have a um… a delicate matter we need to discuss with you.” The two uniformed officers, one male and one female, look toward me. The policewoman barely looks older than eighteen.
“This happens to be my lawyer, Miss Bennett. Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of her.”
“Miss Bennett…Tamara Bennett?” the female officer questions.
“Yes,” William answers.
“In that case, is there somewhere more comfortable we can talk?” The male officer jerks his head toward the door to the lounge. It’s as though he’s trying to tell William something, but I can’t quite understand what.
“Officers, if there is an issue, could you tell us please? We are very busy today,” William responds and folds his arms across his chest to signify he’s not moving.
“My lord, as you wish,” the male officer replies and turning to his colleague, he nods at her.
“Miss Bennett. I’m sorry to inform you that we were called to an incident earlier today in Kensington Park. On arrival, we found the body of a woman. She’d been attacked, raped and murdered. I’m sorry, Miss Bennett, but from the records we have, we believe the woman was your mother, Elsie Bennett.”
The sound of the officer’s words rushes through my ears like the wind of a gale. I’m not quite able to take them in before I feel myself falling to the hard marble floor. I never land, though, for I’m scooped into William’s arms and seated on a near
by chaise longue.
“Bring brandy!” William shouts, and I’m unable to tell him I don’t need it because no words can come out. My mother is dead. Beaten and raped. I don’t need to be told who the culprit was because I already know – it was Viscount Hamilton.
“Have you arrested someone for the attack?” I come back to my senses. “Viscount Hamilton, do you have him in custody?”
“I’m sorry?” the male officer questions with confusion. “Viscount Hamilton? Her employer?”
“Yes. Do you have him in custody?” I ask again through gritted teeth.
“Miss Bennett, the Viscount was the person who found her and identified the body. He’s terribly distraught. From all accounts, your mother was one of his favorite employees.”
“So favorite that he raped her twenty-three years ago to conceive me. I want him arrested. Now!” I shout, and William tucks me under his arm.
“My apologies. I’m afraid Miss Bennett is distraught at this news.”
“I’m not distraught.” I push William away. “Give them the clothes and the letter. It’s my mother’s proof.”
“Earl Lullington?” the male officer queries, pulling out his notebook to start writing details down. Finally, they’re taking me seriously. He doesn’t write, though. He reads from something already entered.
“Miss Bennett. We’ve already taken samples of DNA from your mother. Nothing, so far, matches with that of Viscount Hamilton. He volunteered to be tested himself just in case it would help.
“No.” I shake my head at them. “No. You’ve got it wrong. I want to see her, please.”
The officer nods.
“We’ll take you to the morgue, at once.”
I try to stand up, but my legs are too weak. William picks me up in his arms and carries me to the police car. I’m barely thinking straight, in fact, I’m barely functioning as we speed through the streets to my mother. My mother is dead – raped and murdered. I didn’t want her to go back, but she did, and now she’s dead. It’s my fault. I should have stopped her. Why did we have to get mixed up in this secret society in the first place? I want my mother – I want to hear her voice, and I want to know she’s alright and not suffering. But it doesn’t matter what I want because it can’t change anything. She must have suffered so much at the end. She was hurting and in pain, and I didn’t know. I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t save her. I’m crying – my tears soak through William's shirt as he holds me closer to his chest. I vaguely register us arriving at our destination and him helping me out of the car. My legs are walking, but I’m not controlling them. I’m relying on William for support because I know I’ll crumble if I let go. Doors are opening, people are talking around me, but I’m not taking anything in. Nothing registers in my numb brain until I see her. She’s so tiny, my mother, the only person who’s ever loved me unconditionally. She’s lying on a silver table with a white sheet pulled up to her neck. Her face is covered in bruises, and her lips are swollen. Her eyes are shut, and she’s pale, so very pale, like a ghost, but then I suppose that’s what she is now: a spirit in the ether. I can only hope she comes back to haunt Viscount Hamilton, tormenting him so much he jumps from the highest building.
“Mummy,” I whisper. I want her to answer. I want her to open her eyes, but she doesn’t. She’s dead. She’s really dead. Bringing my hand up to her cheek, I stroke it. There’s still a little warmth to her flesh. “I’m sorry,” I cry, the words coming out of me in ragged sobs. “I love you. I promise you I will end him.”
I take one final look at my mother before returning to William who’d been waiting at the doorway to give me some time alone with her. His eyes are watery, and I know he’s feeling the emotion of the situation. He wraps his arms around me, and I bury my head in his chest and allow the grief to come.
Chapter Nineteen
William
“How is she?” My brother pokes his head around the door to Tamara’s bedroom and whispers quietly.
“Sleeping still. The doctor gave her a sedative,” I reply and look down to where I still hold her hand, having done so for the last five hours. I helped her to change into her nightdress when we returned home from the morgue, and then I put her to bed where she’s been ever since.
“He gave Victoria a mild one also. She was getting stressed, and it was affecting the baby’s heartbeat. I’ve left her sleeping.”
“It’s going to be hard for them both to come to terms with this.” My thumb strokes over Tamara’s hand.
“I can’t help but think I could have done something more to protect her. I should’ve had a team in place sooner.” Nicholas looks tired, really tired. The guilt weighing heavily upon his shoulders. “I should’ve refused to allow her to go back in.”
“It’s not your fault. That’s the one thing I’ve realized sitting here. Elsie was an amazing woman, and she’s the reason both Tamara and Victoria have the strength they do. For her to have survived what she did that first time, and then to see her tormentor every day, knowing it’s the best thing for her daughter and her daughter’s half-sister, must’ve taken some considerable willpower. We could have banned her from returning to the Viscount, even locked her in a room, but she still would have found a way to go back. That’s the sort of woman she is…was. She wanted to help Theodore.” I look to where Tamara stirs and turns over in the bed to face the other way. “In her memory, we will make sure we do just that.”
“Yes, we will,” Nicholas responds as he pushes off from the door frame he’s been leaning against. “Goodnight, Brother.”
“Goodnight.”
He disappears, and I’m left alone with my thoughts. They are sad and painful but defiant. I lean back in the chair, allowing my heavy eyelids to droop shut, and I fall asleep. I don’t know for how long, but I’m woken by Tamara abruptly sitting up in the bed. She screams, and I know she’s had a nightmare.
Bringing her into my arms, I hold her in silence while she cries. Eventually, the heartbroken sobs stop wracking her body, and she quietens in my embrace.
“William?” Her eyes flick up to mine.
“Yes?” I stroke her head as a gesture of comfort and strength.
Hi “I need to know what she felt.” Tamara pulls away from me and sits on the bed with her knees tucked under her.
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to chase me…to make me run.” She looks down at the bed and twists her hand in the crumpled sheets. “To take me against my will.”
I leap off the bed in shock and disbelief.
“What?”
“Please.”
“No.” I turn my back to her, but she gets off the bed and presses her warm body to mine.
“Allow the monster out. Please, I need him.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me. I could hurt you or worse.” I shut my eyes, trying to block out what she’s asking. I want to put my hands over my ears and shout out no until the madness goes away.
“I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I do.” Tamara rests her head against my back. I’m only wearing a t-shirt, and I can feel the tears she’s still crying, soak into the cotton fabric. “You think your mind is dark. Well, my blood is jet black. If you’re a monster, then I’m the devil’s spawn. Give me what I need. You’re the only person who can.”
My entire body chills at her words. I know she’s right. I know exactly what she needs because I feel every inch of it in my bones, and I want it as well.
Grabbing her hand tightly, I allow the walls I’ve built up, which hide my true nature to crumble. I stride quickly through the corridors of the house and out into the garden. Tamara follows behind me, her shorter legs running to keep up with my fast pace. We come to a halt at the edge of the patio area.
“Run,” I order with an intonation so brutal she just stares at me open mouthed. “If you want this, then run. I will find you. If you don’t, we go back up to the room and sleep until your grief no longer ma
kes you insane.”
“I don’t think that will ever happen,” she whimpers and looks out over the vast blackness that’s beckoning to her.
“And I’ll never change. This will always be in me. The tics and lack of filter are the autism. You showed me that my sexual needs are another part of who I am.”
The moon appears from its hiding place behind a bank of thick clouds. It illuminates Tamara’s eyes, and I see the need and desire within them. It takes my breath away.
“Just as mine are a part of me,” she tells me before taking off across the lawn. I pause for a moment to wrap my head around what I’m about to do. I’m going to hunt down the woman fleeing into the shadows and take her brutally, without care for her wellbeing. I’m going to allow the monster I suppress to claw its way to the surface and take over my body, unleashing the side of me that made my father proud. The only difference is this is a game, not a way of life, and I have Tamara’s consent. I might be a monster, but I’m not the monster my father was.
The realization slams into my chest, leaving me breathless, momentarily, but then I see a flash of the woman I need through the moonlight’s glow. My legs carry me after her, and the thrill of the chase is exhilarating. I reach the body of trees that lead into a woodland on our property, and I know she’s in here. It’s somewhere we walked the other day, and she commented on how it felt like a sanctuary. She wants all her illusions of protection shattered.
“I know you’re in here,” I growl and step forward into the darkness. I allow my hearing to take over in place of my sight. A twig cracks off to my left, and as I turn toward the sound, she’s standing there with her eyes full of fear. I no longer have mercy running through my veins. She takes off running, but it doesn’t take me long to catch up, and wrapping my arms around her, I lift her up into the air. She’s so small and delicate in my hands. I could break her so easily. She’s swinging her legs, trying to kick out at me, so I pin her up face first against a tree with her back toward me