One Wicked Winter

by Emma V. Leech

  “Like this, perhaps?” she asked, trailing her tongue over his sensitive flesh.

  Edward gave a slightly hysterical laugh and clutched at the bed covers. Married life really wasn’t so bad after all.

  Chapter 24

  “Wherein nothing is ever that simple.”

  Belle awoke early, aware that something had disturbed her sleep. Probably just fretting that all was as it should be. The day after tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Lord Falmouth and his wife would be returning that afternoon to stay for the celebrations before taking Lady Russell and Lady Sinclair back to London with them.

  With a sigh of content, she looked back on the past few nights. Edward was still distant and kept away from her most of the time during the day, but the nights ... the nights were different. He was different.

  Edward came to her room every night now. It was so strange, though, almost as though he really was two different men. She thought perhaps the one she shared her bed with was the real Edward, maybe the closest to the one he’d been before the war. But during the day, the shadows of the past seemed to lay heavy upon him, and it was impossible to break through. She felt sure she was making progress, but it was painfully slow.

  He wouldn’t speak to her about ... well, about anything, really.

  When she was in his arms, he was loving and giving and ready to laugh, but afterwards, if she tried to draw him out, to talk about the future, about his plans for Longwold, he would simply say he was tired and turn over and go to sleep.

  She had once asked about children; should they have any? How many would he like, boys or girls? Were there any family names?

  Edward had simply turned his back on her and said he left that kind of thing entirely to her.

  It was terribly frustrating. She simply couldn’t get him to let her in.

  Belle was tugged from her thoughts as she realised that Edward was growing restless beside her. The poor man was lost in another nightmare she guessed.

  “Edward,” she whispered, not wanting to wake him too suddenly.

  She placed a hand on his chest to find his skin clammy and his heart racing beneath her hand. His breathing was growing harsh and erratic, and she saw with horror that there were tears streaming down his face.

  “Edward!” she said, getting to her knees beside him. She spoke to him, stroked his face and told him he was safe. But this time it didn’t work. He was too caught up in the depths of his nightmare. He would not wake, and the horror of whatever he was seeing was only too evident. His face was full of anguish, his body rigid as he began to cry out, his voice harsh with the terror of it.

  Belle was terrified for him, needing desperately to stop his suffering.

  “Edward!” she shouted, shaking him hard now.

  What happened next was not entirely clear to her, but she knew he still wasn’t awake. He lashed out, shouting with fury and fear, and Belle went flying backwards, with such force that she tumbled off the bed and hit the floor. For a moment, she was dazed and clutched at her head, feeling it wet and warm. As she pulled her hand away she realised it was covered in blood, and she was shaking.

  “Belle?”

  She looked up, seeing Edward looking down at her, his face a mask of horror.

  “I’m alright,” she said, though her voice was rather unsteady. She held onto the side of the bed, pulling herself upright and got to her feet, walking, albeit a trifle unsteadily, to the wash stand. She rinsed her hands and face and pressed a towel to the cut to staunch the blood.

  “There, it’s only a scratch,” she said with a sigh. “My father always used to say head wounds bleed like the devil. I hit my head once as a child, you see, nothing serious, but there was so much blood that my mother fainted, and she’d never done that in her life before.”

  Belle prattled on, somehow aware that whatever horror Edward had been seeing in his dreams was still present in the room. She pulled her dressing gown on, unable to stop the trembling in her limbs, and returned to the bed. Edward was still there, frozen, staring at the bloody hand prints she’d left on the white linen of the bed sheet.

  “Edward,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Edward, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have tried so hard to wake you like that. It was an accident.” Belle watched but saw no reaction, no flicker of a response. There was a glassy and dreadful look in his eyes, though, and she felt certain that he was still caught in the nightmare, his mind and body too at war for him to move at all. “Edward?” she tried again, holding his hand, raising it to her lips.

  No response.

  His skin was freezing and damp with sweat, and she realised he was trembling harder than she was. Stripping a blanket from the bed she wrapped it around his shoulders. “Edward, I’m here, love. Everything is alright. I’m not hurt. You didn’t hurt me. We’re both fine. You’re safe.”

  She kept up a soft murmur of words of reassurance, feeling more and more afraid that something inside of him had simply snapped.

  “I love you, Edward,” she said, holding his hand to her face and kissing the palm. “I love you so much. Won’t you let me in, darling? Let me help you.”

  She looked up then to see he was staring at her, a look of utter panic in his eyes. “Charlie,” he rasped, his breathing harsh.

  “You want me to bring Charlie?”

  He nodded and she smiled at him. “Of course. I’ll fetch him. Right now. Don’t worry, love. I’ll be right back.”

  Belle ran, running down the corridor as fast as she could, and burst into Edward’s room, praying the valet would be there waiting, but he wasn’t. Heading back out, she ran down the stairs, heedless of the servants seeing her in such disarray. She was almost at the bottom when Garret called out to her.

  “Lady Winterbourne! Is anything amiss?”

  “Oh, Garrett! Yes,” she cried. “Lord Winterbourne he’s ... he’s unwell,” she said. “I need Mr Davis. Right away!”

  “Of course, my lady.” Garrett hurried away, and if the circumstances had been different, Belle might have found amusement in seeing the dignified butler break into a run.

  A moment later, and Charlie was heading towards her, his face grim.

  “Where?” he asked, and Belle felt sure he understood.

  “In my room,” she said, following behind him as he took the stairs two at a time.

  But by the time she’d caught him up and returned to her room, Edward was gone.

  ***

  “You two should get on back inside, it’s freezin’,” Charlie said, though he’d repeated the words a dozen times at least over the past couple of hours, and Belle had refused to listen any of the previous times. Why the man should think she’d change her mind now ... though it was growing dark. But the idea that Edward was still out here somewhere, cold and alone and so terribly unhappy… He hadn’t come home last night, either, and the temperatures had been cruel and icy. Her heart clenched.

  “Look ‘ere, Lady Winterbourne, ye sister is freezin’, take ‘er ‘ome at least.”

  “I’m fine!” Crecy shot back, looking indignant, but Belle could see that Charlie was correct. Poor Crecy had been tramping around the estate with them all day, and she looked positively blue, shivering even beneath the thick cloak she wore.

  “No, you’re not,” Belle replied, though she couldn’t hide her disappointment. She turned back to Charlie. “We’re never going to find him, are we?”

  Charlie shrugged but his expression wasn’t encouraging. “The fellow grew up ‘ere, knows every inch of this vast estate. I reckon we won’t find ‘im if he don’t want t’ be found.”

  Belle swallowed down a sob of despair, and Charlie’s face softened. He came closer and laid a hand on her arm. “I’ll keep lookin’ once yer back ‘ome, so don’t you fret so. He’s tough as old boots, is Eddie. Bit o’ cold ain’t enough to do for ‘im, I promise ye that.”

  Trying hard to summon a smile, Belle nodded her understanding and prayed he was right.

  “Come along, Crecy. Charlie is rig
ht, of course, and I can’t be responsible for you taking ill.”

  “I told you, I’m perfectly fine, Belle,” Crecy grumbled, though her assurance was rather spoiled by the fierce way her teeth were chattering.

  “Humour me,” Belle said with a smile, taking her sister’s arm. “We’ll keep looking on the way back.”

  The three of them began the long trudge back to the house. Half the estate was out looking for the marquess, those that could be trusted not to gossip about the strange manner of his disappearance, that was. Though according to Garrett, that comprised pretty much the entire staff. Belle wondered if he had any idea how much esteem he was held in, the pride his staff took in him and his heroic reputation. She somehow doubted Edward would find any pleasure in the fact. Not at the moment, at least.

  They were half way back when a distressed squawking sound was heard, and Crecy ran off into the undergrowth that bordered the path they were on.

  “What the devil’s she up to?” Charlie asked.

  Belle sighed. “Rescuing something appalling, I imagine,” she replied with a rueful smile.

  Sure enough, when Crecy emerged again, with bits of twig and dead leaves hanging from her hair, she was holding a large bird, wrapped in a fold of her cloak.

  “It’s a magpie,” she exclaimed, her lovely face flushed with triumph, though there was concern in her eyes. “The poor fellow has broken his leg somehow.”

  “Poor devil,” Charlie muttered, giving the bird a leery expression. “Give it over, Miss Lucretia. I’ll take care o’ the wretched blighter for ye. Musn’t let ‘im suffer, eh?”

  Crecy’s eyes grew round with horror as Belle’s heart sank. Now they were for it.

  “No!” she exclaimed, looking at Charlie like he was guilty of murder. “I can mend his leg. He’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

  Charlie grimaced. “An’ whatcha gonna do with the poor bugger ‘til then, ‘scuse my French,” he added, obviously remembering who he was speaking with. “Things probably crawlin’ with fleas, and ... ugh.”

  “I don’t care!” Crecy flung back at him.

  “Be kinder to put the thing out o’ its misery,” Charlie grumbled, shaking his head.

  “Would you put me down as fast, Charlie?”

  There was a collective gasp as everyone turned in the direction of the voice and saw Edward standing on the edge of the undergrowth.

  “Eddie!” Charlie exclaimed. “Thank God!”

  Belle could say nothing. Relief was a heavy lump in her throat, and it was all she could do not to cry and fling herself at her husband in relief, but there was something in his expression that held her back.

  “Edward,” she managed, her voice thick with emotion. She walked over to him, horrified to see that he was wearing no coat. He was filthy, his cravat hanging loose around his neck, shirt covered in mud, and dark stubble giving him an even wilder appearance. But it was his eyes that broke her heart. “I’ve been so worried,” she whispered. She reached to take his hand, her fingers touching his for the briefest moment but he snatched his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me!” he raged, sounding utterly furious. He snatched the cravat from his neck, flinging it away from him into the brambles. “Stay away from me. I don’t want you near me.” He was wild-eyed, his expression febrile, and Belle stumbled back, shocked and appalled.

  “Edward?” she said, uncomprehending why he should be so angry with her. “Edward, please, what have I done?” her voice choked on the words but Edward just stalked away from her, his shoulders hunched.

  Belle started as a heavy hand squeezed her shoulder. “You ain’t done a thing wrong, my lady,” Charlie said, his voice full of sorrow. “‘E’s just broken, is all. You’ve made such a change in ‘im already, but ... I reckon ‘im hurtin’ ye like that. Well, ‘e don’t trust ‘imself, does ‘e?”

  “But it was an accident!” Belle exclaimed. “He was asleep, for all he knew I was a French soldier or something.”

  Charlie smiled at her but it wasn’t a happy expression. “I know it, an’ you know it. But Eddie ... e’s all about in ‘is ‘ead. Reckon the fellow will try an’ keep ye far away from ‘im. Won’t want to ‘urt ye again.”

  Belle nodded, knowing that Charlie was probably right. Edward wasn’t angry at her at all. He was angry at himself for having hurt her. Rather than face the possibility it could happen again, he’d run from her and any fragile trust that had begun to grow between them.

  Well, Edward, that might be your decision, but it isn’t mine.

  Belle looked up as Charlie’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I’ll see he gets warm an’ fed, m’lady, don’t you fret none.”

  “You’re a good friend to him, Charlie,” Belle said, her voice full of warmth.

  Charlie blushed a little and touched his fingers to his hat before striding off ahead of them.

  “You can’t let him push you away, Belle,” Crecy said, her voice low as she stroked the head of the bewildered-looking magpie.

  Belle smiled at her sister and nodded. “I know that, Crecy, and believe me, I have no intention of letting him succeed.”

  Chapter 25

  “Wherein Belle takes a lesson in seduction.”

  Belle did not attempt to speak with Edward again that day, nor did she seek him out that night. He was too raw and angry to even make the attempt. But the next day, she determined she would confront him and put to rest any fears that he had that he had hurt her on purpose or could do so again. She would learn better how to deal with the terrible nightmares he suffered, and never wake him in such a manner again.

  Lord and Lady Falmouth returned in the early afternoon, and Belle did her best to play the welcoming hostess. She tried to be merry as she oversaw the decorating of the house. Vast swathes of evergreen, rosemary, and glossy holly with its blood red berries adored lintels, windows, and the grand stairway, and Belle made little posies of Christmas roses to be placed amongst the greenery on the mantles. It had been a job she’d been looking forward to, but it must have been clear that her mind was elsewhere. With a heavy heart, she watched as the footmen lifted a kissing bough of evergreen and mistletoe, with apples and bright red ribbons making it festive. She wondered if there were lovers among the servants, and how many mistletoe berries would be missing for each stolen kiss by the time Christmas was done. Would any be hers and Edwards?

  Belle knew well enough that some families, especially among the ton, had relegated such decorations to below stairs, feeling them inappropriate for proper company. But she was mistress of Longwold now, and such traditions made her feel a part of the place and its history. It made her feel as though it was truly home, her home. From the warmth and enthusiasm that the servants gave to the decorating, she felt she had made the right decision.

  Once the great castle was beautiful and festive in its lush green finery, Belle went to find some peace in the library, only to discover that Violette had followed her. She had thrown herself into the decorating with characteristic joy, and Belle found she liked her new sister more and more.

  “How are you, Belle?” she asked, her voice full of sympathy.

  Belle did her best to return a reassuring smile, but found it hard to pretend everything was as it ought to be. “Well enough,” she replied, gesturing for Violette to take a seat beside her.

  Violette took her hand, her eyes full of concern. “You won’t give up on him, will you, Belle?”

  Belle looked at her in astonishment. “What? Of course not! Surely you do not think me such a feeble creature as that?”

  “Oh no,” Violette exclaimed, but there was deep concern in her eyes. “Only, I know how ... how difficult Edward can be, and I know you did not love him when you married, but ... Oh, Belle, if you’d have known him before, you would have fallen for him in a heartbeat, I promise you that.”

  Belle gave a soft laugh and shook her head. “You need have no fears on that score,” she said, her voice low.

  Violette stared at her, a slight smile
curving over her lovely mouth. “You love him?”

  Belle nodded. “With all my heart, but I fear that I am not enough to heal him.”

  Violette grasped her hand between both of hers. “You are, Belle, I know you are. You must just keep trying, please.”

  Belle laughed, touched by Edward’s sister’s devotion to him. “You have my word that I will, Violette. It’s just ...”

  “It’s just…?” Violette pressed.

  Belle squirmed a little inwardly, she wasn’t sure Edward’s sister was the right person for such confidences. “It’s just ... the only time ...” Belle paused again and took a deep breath. “The only time I can get close to him at all is ... is when ...”

  “Oh!” Violette exclaimed, as she began to understand. “Yes. Yes, I see.”

  Belle watched as Violette pursed her lips. “Well, if it weren’t my brother, I could maybe suggest ... but…” Belle smiled as Violette pulled a face.

  “It’s of no matter,” Belle said with a heavy sigh that said otherwise. If she was more experienced in such matters, she could seduce the man, but as it was she couldn’t even get near him, let alone have any idea what to do if she managed that much.

  “Celeste!” Violette said suddenly, startling Belle out of her reverie.

  “What?”

  Violette got to her feet and pulled at Belle’s arm, tugging her until she followed. “You must speak with Celeste,” she said, her voice firm.

  “Oh, but ... no, I couldn’t,” Belle exclaimed in horror. “I hardly know the woman!”

  “Oh, pish!” Violette exclaimed. “You only need be in Celeste’s company for half an hour to know you love her, and when I decided to elope with Aubrey ...” She paused suddenly, going a little red. “I’m sorry, have I shocked you?”

  Belle gave a short bark of laughter. “You’re talking to the woman who trapped your brother into marriage,” she said, her tone dry.