She stood up and got ready to head to Susanna’s room, but then she saw something familiar out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze went to the window, and she looked down at the lawn.
And there she was. The gypsy. Even in the fading daylight, Patricia could make out the old woman’s face. The gypsy was scowling at her, letting her know that she hadn’t forgiven Patricia’s mother for stealing food from her all those years ago.
Patricia froze. She didn’t understand this. How could the gypsy find her? And after all this time? Patricia had only been to London one time since she’d married Ichabod, and that was to see Loretta. But that was before Susanna was born.
The curse. It had to be the curse. The gypsy had told her and her mother that they would never be happy. Somehow, someway, the gypsy knew Patricia was happy, and now she was moving in to take that happiness from her.
Patricia’s lower lip trembled. Why? Why did the gypsy bide her time before coming in to enact the curse on her? Why hadn’t she just killed her and her mother with the curse that night instead of putting her through this endless torment?
Because you suffer when you have to live without the things you love.
The gypsy lifted her hand and pointed her finger at her in the same way she’d done that day when Patricia had been doing laundry. It’d been the same day Patricia had run into Lewis, and he had taken her out of London to save her from the gypsy and the man named Symon who seem to always accompany her.
Patricia let out a cry then hid behind the drapes. No. She couldn’t go through another loss. Her mother was dead. Barnaby was dead. She couldn’t bear it if Stephen and Susanna died, too.
She stiffened. Stephen had taken Susanna downstairs to the drawing room. Were they still there?
She ran out of the room, down the hallway, and down the stairs. She didn’t stop running until she made it to the drawing room. Stephen was in the process of encouraging a timid Lewis to hold Susanna.
Stephen laughed when he saw her. “It looks like Patricia is excited to see you,” he told Lewis.
“We have to make sure the manor is secure,” Patricia said, grabbing Susanna. “Stephen, you need to send the servants to block the doors. Then have them search the place to make sure an intruder isn’t here.”
Stephen stared at her. “What’s this about? Why are you so scared?”
She looked at Lewis. “The curse. It’s followed me. I just saw the gypsy outside. She was watching my bedchamber window.”
Stephen excused himself then hurried out of the room.
She was ready to follow him when Lewis stopped her. “Patricia, I thought you were done with this nonsense. There’s no such thing as a curse, and there is no gypsy.”
“I know what I saw. I’m not imagining it.”
By the sympathetic expression on Lewis’ face, she could tell he didn’t believe her.
“It’s true,” she insisted. “I saw her. She was looking up at me from the lawn.” She felt sick to her stomach. “She knows where my bedchamber is. She knows I’m happy with Stephen, and she knows about Susanna.” Was there anything the gypsy didn’t know about her?
“I never saw a gypsy or the man you said was chasing you the night we met,” Lewis said.
Though his tone was gentle, she recognized the disbelief in his voice. “The gypsy is real. Symon is real. Why can’t you believe me?”
“I believe you think they’re real.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I just don’t understand all of this. Nothing bad has happened to you despite there being a curse over your head.”
“My mother died.”
“In her sleep. You said you woke up one day, and she was lying in bed and not breathing. You were living in poverty, and she’d been sickly. Those two things don’t lead to a long life.”
“Barnaby died.”
“In an accident while cleaning out a chimney. That job comes with a lot of risks. He’s not the first one to have died that way.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head. He didn’t believe her, and because he didn’t believe her, he wasn’t going to take the threat seriously.
“The next thing I know, you’ll blame Ichabod’s death on the curse,” Lewis muttered under his breath.
“I didn’t love him. This curse only affects people I care about.”
“I’m your friend. You care about me, don’t you?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
“Because the love I have for Stephen isn’t the same that I have for you.”
“What about your mother? You didn’t love her in the same way you loved Barnaby or Stephen. You said the curse goes to everyone you love. Love isn’t just romantic.”
She blinked back the tears. He was right. It was why she’d been worried about Stephen and Susanna. She held the child closer to her and kissed her head.
“Patricia,” Lewis began in a soft voice, “is it possible that losing your mother and Barnaby made you afraid you’ll lose everyone else you love? Maybe that fear has taken on the manifestation of the gypsy and Symon. Maybe the curse is something your mind uses to explain the fact that you’ve been unhappy for so long.”
She shook her head. “I’m not imagining them. They are real.”
He let out a frustrated sigh, and she couldn’t blame him. She was sure that, from his point of view, it did seem as if she was losing her mind. But she wasn’t. Her faculties were very much intact. She hadn’t made any of it up. The gypsy and Symon were real.
Stephen returned to the drawing room. “I didn’t see anyone below your window,” he told Patricia.
Lewis shot her a pointed look as if Stephen had just proven his point.
She turned to Stephen, hoping he wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss her claims. “I saw her. She was right there. She probably left because she figured I’d come down here to tell you.”
Stopping, she took a good look at the three large windows in the room. All of the drapes were parted, and the fireplace and candles lit the room. Was it possible the gypsy could see them? She gave Susanna back to Stephen and hurried to each window, looking for any signs of the gypsy or Symon.
“Patricia,” Lewis called out to her, “why don’t you sit down and have some wine? It’ll help soothe your nerves.”
“I don’t need wine. I need for the gypsy and Symon to leave me alone,” she told him as she searched the property.
No one. She didn’t see anyone. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or scream. It was hard to prove she was telling the truth when there wasn’t anyone out there, but it made her feel a little better she wasn’t being watched. To be on the safe side, she started drawing the drapes shut.
Stephen came over to her as she worked on the second set of drapes. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’re trembling.”
“I’m not imagining any of it.” She turned to Stephen, pleading for him to believe her. “I know this sounds irrational, but there is a gypsy out there. She wants to take you and Susanna from me.”
Before he could respond, she rushed to the final set of drapes and closed them.
The butler came into the room and announced that dinner was ready.
When Stephen looked in her direction, she shook her head. “I can’t eat.”
She was too scared to eat. She lifted the corner of the drape and searched the area. No one. Just grass and trees. The gazebo wasn’t far off. The maze was further out. Looking the other way, she saw the covered bridge. But she didn’t see a single person.
“Lewis, why don’t you go on ahead and start eating without us?” Stephen said.
She glanced at the gentlemen and saw Lewis give a reluctant shrug before he followed the butler out of the room. Afterwards, Stephen shut the doors to the drawing room.
She should have told Stephen about the gypsy and Symon sooner. She’d had plenty of time. It was just that she didn’t think the gypsy could find her here. She hadn’t found her at Ichabod’
s, and the gypsy hadn’t found her after she paid Loretta a quick visit. Why now? Why did the gypsy wait until now to come to her? There had to be a reason for it.
“Let’s talk at the settee,” Stephen urged, waving her to him.
She gave one more look at the landscape and, not seeing anyone, let the drape fall back in place and went to her husband.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stephen thought Lewis’ idea of giving Patricia a glass of wine to relax her was a good one, so he poured her a glass from the decanter and offered it to her before he sat next to her.
“I don’t need wine.” She put the glass on the table. “I need to be alert for what the gypsy’s going to do.”
He shifted Susanna to his other arm and thought over what he should do next. Was this the same gypsy Lewis had mentioned the last time he was here? Stephen thought over his conversation with Lewis then asked, “Why would a gypsy be after you?”
“My mother stole some food from her when I was a child.”
“If your mother stole food because she wanted to feed both you and her, that doesn’t sound that bad. Any decent person wouldn’t condemn a mother who’s trying to feed her child. If we were in a desperate situation, I’d steal food to feed Susanna if I had to.”
“It might not have been a serious offense if she hadn’t picked a gypsy to steal from. Apparently, no one steals from a gypsy without being cursed for it.” She took a deep breath and released it. “I understand why my mother did it. We took in laundry, but it was hard to afford anything. She only did it because she’d had to use what little money we had for medicine when I got sick. And then when I got better, I was hungry, and there was no food because she hadn’t been able to do laundry while she was taking care of me. Once she was able to get back to work and I was helping her, she never had to steal any food again. It was just that one time.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he whispered, hoping his tone would soothe her. “I understand why your mother did what she did.”
“I know you do, but the gypsy doesn’t.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “All of these years, I kept hoping the gypsy wouldn’t find me, but it seems that whenever I think she’s either forgotten me or lost track of me, she shows back up.”
“Do you think she follows you around?”
“I don’t know if she’s been following me or if she has some other way of knowing where I am. I heard gypsies practice magic. Maybe she cast a spell so she knows where I am.”
“There’s no such thing as magic. Not the kind you’re talking about anyway.”
She placed her face in her hands and groaned. “Lewis doesn’t believe me, either. He thinks I’m imagining things, but I’m not. No matter where I go, she always finds me.”
“Which could easily happen if she follows you. She’s obviously good at hiding if I can’t find her out there.”
She lifted her head from her hands. “Does that mean you believe she’s real?”
Despite the fact that things did seem to lean in favor of Lewis’ argument, Stephen’s gut told him she wasn’t imagining it. There was something in the way she trembled that told him no one could imagine something that would make them so incredibly terrified.
“I believe the gypsy is real, but I don’t believe she’s using magic. I think she follows you. And if it’s not her who’s following you, then it must be someone she knows.”
“That could be Symon. The gypsy is an older woman. I think she was in her mid-forties at the time she cursed my mother. That would make her in her mid-fifties now. But Symon is younger. The last time I saw him, he looked like he was in his late twenties.”
“When did you last see him?”
“That night I met Lewis. About two years ago.”
“Do you see Symon whenever you see her?”
She nodded.
“Ever since Lewis took you to his brother’s, you haven’t seen either one of them?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t seen the gypsy until now. I haven’t seen Symon yet, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t somewhere nearby.” She shivered and hugged herself. “Every time she shows up, I lose someone I love. First, there was my mother. Then there was Barnaby.” She paused then added, “He was a young man I thought I was going to marry years ago.” She gulped. “Now she wants to take you and Susanna away from me.”
“Did she kill your mother and Barnaby?”
“She used the curse. My mother died because she couldn’t overcome the series of illnesses she’d gotten, and Barnaby died when he fell in a chimney. Each time, I saw the gypsy before it happened. She showed up out of nowhere and pointed at me. Just like she did tonight.” She broke into tears and put her face back in her hands.
He put his free arm around her and drew her to him. “I believe you’re telling me the truth, but it doesn’t make sense this gypsy and her companion would go through all of this over some stolen food. There has to be another reason.” Because if the gypsy had spent all these years tracking her down, it was more of an obsession than a simple punishment. “Is there anything else that happened between your mother and the gypsy?”
She lifted her head again and wiped her tears away. “All I know is what I told you.”
That was a shame. He was sure there was more to the story. Too many things didn’t add up. The gypsy’s animosity was too strong. No one followed someone around for years over stolen food.
“Here.” He gave her Susanna. “I want you to watch our daughter.” He went to the windows and made sure they were locked. As he did so, he scanned the property but didn’t see anyone. Turning back to Patricia, he said, “I’m going to notify the staff that they need to secure the doors and windows. I had locks put on all the doors, including the ones in this room.”
He did that to keep Eloise from ruining his things, but he didn’t feel like explaining that to Patricia. At the moment, all she needed to know was that he had a way to keep people out of the manor, and hopefully, it would make her feel safe while she was alone with Susanna.
She rose from the settee and followed him as he went to the doors. “You can’t leave. What if you don’t come back?”
Catching the worried tone in her voice, he turned back to her. He knew she loved him, but he was still surprised she was afraid someone would hurt him. He removed his mask then gave her a long kiss, hoping the kiss could express how grateful he was for her and the life they had together because words didn’t seem to properly do the job.
When he ended the kiss, he said, “I have every intention of coming back.” He kissed the top of Susanna’s head then slipped his mask on. He opened the doors, turned the locks, and then slipped into the hallway. “I’ll give three taps on the door when I come back.” To demonstrate, he did the taps in quick succession. “I’ll be back soon. I love you.”
Then he shut the doors, trying not to think too much about the tears in her eyes. She was probably convinced he wouldn’t be coming back to her. But he would. All he had to do was send the staff through the house to make sure no one could sneak into the place. That wouldn’t take more than a few minutes.
Since no one was in the hall, he went to the entryway and locked the door. Then he turned and headed to the dining room. The butler would be there, making sure Lewis had everything he needed.
It didn’t occur to him that things were unusually quiet until he reached the dining room and saw Lewis slumped in his chair with his eyes closed. Without thinking, he ran over to his friend and shook his shoulder.
“Lewis?” he asked and shook him again.
But Lewis didn’t respond.
Ignoring his apprehension, Stephen put his hand up to Lewis’ nose and waited to feel whether or not Lewis was breathing. Lewis exhaled, his breath blowing on Stephen’s hand. Relieved, Stephen shook his shoulder again.
“Lewis, wake up.” He shook him harder this time. “Lewis?”
But Lewis was in too deep a sleep. He wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.
Stephen straigh
tened up and looked over at the spot where the butler often stood during the meal. He held in his breath as he approached the spot.
The butler was crumpled over in the corner. Stephen hurried over to him and checked to see if he was alive or not. Good. He was alive, but he was in a sleep as deep as Lewis was. There’d be no waking him up. Not for a while anyway.
Stephen stood back up and scanned the room. He should have instructed the staff to secure the manor before talking to Patricia. He hadn’t acted fast enough, and because of that, he’d unwittingly put them and Susanna in danger. If the gypsy was after Patricia, he was an obvious target, but so was Susanna. And who knew if the gypsy would let Patricia get away alive this time?
His gaze swept the room again, this time looking for a weapon so he could defend himself. He picked up a steak knife, and as he did so, he noticed a neatly folded piece of paper on one of the plates. With a cautious glance around to make sure he was still alone, he grabbed it.
He opened it up, and right away he recognized Patricia’s handwriting. It had been written to Ichabod earlier that year. It told him she was expecting a child and that the child would be born in December.
Patricia wouldn’t have left this out. In fact, he was sure she hadn’t even brought it with her when Lewis brought her here to marry him. This had come directly from Ichabod’s bedchamber.
Which meant the gypsy and Symon found a way into Ichabod’s manor. Which meant Ichabod probably hadn’t choked on his food.
Stephen heard a noise from the hallway. Dropping the note, he jerked around to face the doorway, holding the knife out. There was another footstep.
He held his breath and waited to figure out from which direction the footsteps were coming. The next step was softer than the first, and for a moment, he thought the person was walking away from him. But then, after hearing a couple more, he realized the person was heading in his direction.
He considered calling out but quickly decided against it. The person could be one of the staff, but it could also be an intruder. He slipped under the table and crouched down low and removed his mask so he could see the person when he, or she, passed by.
The Marriage Contract Page 18