Before his cousin could object, he swiveled and sprinted upstairs. He had reached the top floor before he noticed Belle and Earnest coming after him.
“What are you doing?” he asked in horrified exasperation. “This whole house could be ablaze. You must leave, and you must leave now.”
“I will leave when you do.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “Phillip takes Felton to safety.”
“Then we leave now.”
“No,” she said. “You are right, Rufus. We cannot leave Winfield to your father’s mercy. Is that not why you came up here? Despite the horrible things the man has done to you and your family, we must save him. But first we will have to catch your father’s attention, and with that, I can be of help.”
He shook his head as it dawned on him that she had been dealing with his difficult father all alone, and she had continued to do so even when he had given her every reason to turn her back on him and his family. He tenderly took her brave face in his hands. “Belle, my love, I will not risk your life for Winfield’s.”
“Then do it for your father. If he destroys Winfield, he may damn his soul for all eternity. If you want him to rest in peace, we need him to release his hatred and thirst for vengeance.” She gently covered his hands. “Rufus, I may have failed to convince him before now, but with your help, we might be able to reason with him this time.”
With a nod, he took her hand and turned toward the attic door, from behind which Winfield’s screams could be heard.
“If we must face him,” Rufus said, “let us do so quickly, or we will all be doomed to die in this house.”
“Agreed,” she said and squeezed his hand in encouragement.
Chapter Eighteen
Rufus opened the door to the attic, which served as a storage room. The large, cavernous space was filled with boxes and trunks piled roof high, which made visibility difficult. They moved around stacks of crates, always following the sounds of Winfield’s cries.
Finally, Rufus saw him, and he instinctively gripped Belle’s hand. The man floated six feet off the ground, a rope tied around his throat that led off to a distance and ended in midair. His fingers were pulling on the noose, to keep it from strangling him while his feet kicked out trying to find solid purchase. His eyes were wide and maniacal. The papers he had killed to obtain were beneath him scattered like white clouds on the dusty gray floor.
Belle pulled out of his hold, gave him a gentle push forward, and pointed toward Winfield. “Both Winfield and your father are up there.”
He gave her an uncertain glance and then stepped closer to the only person he could see. Winfield.
Earnest growled and circled Belle, as if unsure what to do.
Rufus sympathized. Even though he told himself not to, he had to ask a foolish question. “Belle, are you sure Father’s here?”
“Someone holds Winfield up. Talk to your father, Rufus. You must turn him from his purpose.”
He nodded and swallowed to clear the sudden lump in his throat. “Father.” He addressed the empty air where the rope ended around Winfield’s neck. “Release this man.”
Mine.
The whisper, in that familiar voice, spiked the hairs on his neck and arms. He knew that tone of voice, and he also knew that his father in a foul temper was never a good sign. He shook off his reflexive fear and spoke in a firm tone. “I beg to differ, sir. Winfield is mine.”
Murderer. Traitor.
“Yes. All those things, as well as a thief and a coward. Still, he is mine. Not yours.”
Shot ME!
Rufus summoned his courage to face up to the man who had terrified him his whole life. “And you are dead, Father.”
No response.
He paced beneath Winfield in a circle while the rational side of him insisted that he must have imagined his father’s words. But that logical side could not offer any reasonable explanation for a man hanging in midair without any visible support, or for Earnest following Belle’s command to the letter, as if he understood English as well as his master.
So, if the rational explanations were out, he must believe in the irrational. Which was the world where Belle lived. Rufus drew in a deep breath and stepped into that world with full acceptance. If Belle were mad, so, now, was he.
A joyous sensation burst out of his chest, and he could not attribute that extraordinary feeling to anything other than a sense of finally finding peace. He hurried back to Belle and kissed her cheek.
She gave him a surprised look, then a frown of confusion marred her beautiful face. Apparently she could not read his mind as easily as she could a dog’s or a ghost’s.
Good! A solid sustainable marriage required some secrets that could later be revealed as surprise gifts.
Rufus knelt to pick up the scattered paper. Once finished, he stood and spoke to his father as much as to himself. “Father, you are dead. Now, whether you approve or not, I am head of the Terrance household. It is my duty to see that Winfield is brought to justice.” With the papers clutched in his fist, he indicated Winfield. “Release him. I am capable of taking care of our family. It is time you trusted me to do so.”
Son. Always trust. Always protect.
At that amazing admission, a lifetime of hurt that had rebelliously clung to Rufus’s shoulders dissipated and drifted away like ashes blown by the breeze.
He folded and tucked the papers into an inside pocket. Then he glanced toward Belle, who smiled her encouragement. Earnest, however, shivered, his eyes pleading for them to leave this doomed place.
Soon, Rufus promised his dog and turned back to Winfield’s floating body. His neighbor stared down at him in petrified silence.
“I no longer need protection, father. I am a grown man. And if you do trust me as you say, then prove it. Release Winfield. I will see that justice falls on his head. Allow me to be the man you brought me up to be.”
The silence following his request lasted a long while. Then, suddenly, Winfield plunged toward the floor, screaming.
Rufus dove for him, arms outstretched, and caught him. He staggered under the weight.
Then he looked upward and smiled. “Thank you, Father.”
BELLE STOOD WITH her gaze transfixed near the ceiling. The old earl appeared, garbed in old-fashioned clothes from over three decades ago. He looked younger than his portrait, but what caught and held Belle’s attention was his pride with his son that shone brightly on his face. In that moment, a blinding light engulfed him, and Belle smiled as the late Lord Terrance left this earthly realm.
This is why I cannot turn my back on my talent, she thought.
She had not realized her shoulders were tense until they relaxed as she came to terms with why she was unable to abandon her “imaginings,” as Rufus had once asked her to do.
RUFUS HEAVED A terrified Winfield to his feet. The man had gone limp, becoming a dead weight, though his eyes remained wide open. Rufus dragged him toward the door, saying, “Come, Belle, we must get out of here.”
When she did not respond, he looked up to where she stared at the ceiling. “Is my father still here?”
“No.” She turned to help him with Winfield. “Thanks to you, he has finally found peace, Rufus. He will not haunt this house anymore.”
“Good,” Rufus said. “Unfortunately, I doubt this house will be around much longer for anyone to haunt.”
Together, they dragged Winfield downstairs. Smoke had spread everywhere. The accompanying heat was unbearable.
“Hurry,” he said, but left unvoiced his worry that they might already be too late to escape.
As he had feared, on the third floor landing they were forced to halt. The stairs were no longer passable.
“We must find another escape route,” he said. “Maybe through a window on this floor.”
“No!”
Winfield cried wildly and tried to pull away.
Rufus tightened his hold. “Winfield, there is no time left to argue about this.”
Winfield fought free, wildly flinging his arms. Rufus let the crazy fool go in order to protect Belle as one of Winfield’s fists came close to clobbering her. He pushed her behind him and turned to face the madman.
“You will not win,” Winfield shouted. “You can burn in this house, Terrance, but I’m getting out. You cannot stop me. No one can stop me.”
“The terror of meeting your father has loosened his mind,” Belle said.
“I am not a lunatic!” Spittle dripped out of Winfield’s mouth, as if in contradiction to that statement. He pointed at her, his eyes bulging like cue balls. “I see how you trail after his almighty lordship, hoping to catch a little of his fame. It will not work. No one notices you. Nothing you do compares favorably. You might as well not exist.”
“Winfield, there is no time to argue,” Rufus said. “This fire spreads like a lit fuse. Come man, we can escape out a window from a room behind us.” He grabbed Winfield’s arm, but the man screamed and lunged toward him.
Belle shouted a warning as Rufus crashed against the banister with Winfield on top of him. Timber cracked beneath their combined weight.
Belle shoved Winfield out of the way, and the fool woman grabbed Rufus’s arm. He was afraid of taking her over the railing with him, but she pulled him back onto solid ground.
Earnest ran back and forth, barking in frenzy. Winfield chose that moment of distraction to leap down the stairs and jump over the flames.
“Stop, you fool!” Rufus shouted. “Come back here.”
“Time for you to burn, Terrance,” Winfield shouted gleefully over his shoulder. And then the stairs buckled beneath him.
Rufus would have gone to help, but Belle laid a restraining hand. There was a faraway look in her eyes as she said, “It is too late.”
Before she finished speaking, a crack sounded. In a swoop, Winfield sank through the floor to his hips. He put his arms out to pull himself up, but the entire stairway gave way. He plummeted, screaming and arms flailing. The smoke was too think to see, but Rufus heard him crash onto the marble foyer in a horrific crunch of bones, and his screams cut off.
As smoke and debris billowed up in a tremendous plume, Rufus pulled Belle against his chest and covered his face with his arm. Once the air cleared, Winfield’s position became clear. He lay below them unmoving among the crisscrossed fallen beams and charred rubble, his neck and legs twisted at an unnatural angle.
Higher up, the stairway ended abruptly, as if a ghostly hand held it up despite Belle insisting his father was gone.
Earnest whined and backed away, and Belle coughed against his chest.
Rufus drew them backwards onto safer ground and then led the way to a bedroom he used to play in as a child. He was sure there was a way to get out from there. It had worked when he was a boy. “This way, Belle. Earnest, here!”
They arrived to find smoke in the room. He ushered her and Earnest inside and shut the door. “There is a tree outside that window. If we climb onto one of the branches, we should be able to get down safely.”
He tore the curtains away to give them unhindered access and then opened the shutters. Daylight poured into the dark, smoky room. He opened the window and lifted her until she sat on its ledge.
“You cannot climb in that gown,” he told her.
“I am not taking it off!”
“Then we improvise.” He ripped at the bottom of her gown.
“Rufus!” she cried, sounding scandalized.
“You will need to use your legs to climb that tree. The skirts will hinder your movements.”
When he was done, only a modest portion of her gown still covered her thighs.
“Go!” he ordered.
Carefully, she reached for the closest oak tree branch beside the window and climbed onto it. “Are you coming?”
“The branch has grown bigger than I remember but it is still too small to hold both our weights. You go first, I will follow.”
Heart in mouth, he watched as she crawled along the wide branch. He heaved a relieved sigh as she grabbed the main trunk. Only then did he give himself permission to admire her bare legs.
They were strong, firm and delectable, and he could not wait until she wrapped them around him as she now did with that lucky trunk. He watched with uninhibited enjoyment as she slowly slid down until she touched ground and turned to wave up to him, completely unaware of how tempting she looked.
“Woof!” Earnest said, leaning out the windowsill.
“Yes, she made it.” Rufus petted the dog. The large Irish wolfhound puppy would not make it without help. “Now it is our turn.”
He used torn curtains to fashion a makeshift sling. First he wrapped it securely around Earnest and then slung the whole around his shoulders so the dog hung off his chest.
Earnest whined.
“Only way, boy.”
Together they climbed out. The limb buckled, and Rufus’s stomach dropped. But the branch held, and, clutching the dog with one hand, he made his way to the trunk and then down the tree.
The closer to the ground they drew, the more Earnest wiggled. Once they landed, Rufus ignored the dog’s complaints, as Belle gave him a lingering kiss that suggested her thoughts were not so far removed from his. The squirming dog got in the way of serious lovemaking, and they had to stop.
Once released, Earnest raced in wide circles barking. Rufus pulled Belle to him again, ready to finish what she had started, but the barking brought running footsteps and a shout. As Phillip raced round the house, they had to step apart.
“With all that racket, I assured your mother that you must have made it safely out,” Phillip said, sounding out of breath and anxious despite the teasing glint in his eyes.
“Are you sure Mother and Susie are safe?”
“More worried about you than themselves.”
“And Aunt Henrietta?”
Phillip gave Rufus a hug. “Thank you for asking. My mother is fine and more cantankerous than ever because of her fright. Felton, too, has recovered. All the servants and guests are accounted for. I am just happy to see you and Lady Belle got out safety.”
“Why were you so worried, Cousin?” Rufus asked. “Were you afraid you would have to take over the family fortune?”
“Do not even joke about your death.” Phillip pumped him on the back and wore a delighted smile.
“I have something for you.” Rufus handed Phillip the papers he had rescued from Winfield. “Do you think this will help in clearing my name?”
Phillip looked over the papers and nodded. “Assuredly. And you may consider me speaking on behalf of the Regent on this matter.”
“I want to hear more about your work,” Rufus said. “Later. Oh, and Winfield is dead.”
“Good,” Phillip said, but his gaze was arrested on Belle. “Interesting fashion plate, Lady Belle. I suspect it will become the rage of London once you arrive.”
“Oh!” Belle ran to hide behind Rufus
“What can I say, Phillip, other than that she seems intent on disrobing in front of me at every opportunity.”
“It is a sad development,” Phillip agreed in a sober tone that had an underlay of laughter. “You might have to marry the girl to ensure she does not embarrass you.”
“The thought has crossed my mind.” Rufus removed his jacket and offered it to Belle behind his back.
“It was necessary to destroy my gown so I could climb down the tree,” Belle said in a pained voice. “Rufus, I mean Lord Terrance, insisted on it.”
As Phillip, too, shed his jacket to give to Belle, Rufus glanced at the manor, now engulfed in flames. The sight drowned out his humor. Even the gargoyles on
the rooftop, which according to lore, were meant to guard the place against evil spirits, appeared scorched. Some guardians they had turned out to be. The sky remained a clear blue without a cloud in sight to hint at rain that might help extinguish the blaze.
Before long, the manor would be nothing but charred remains. He would miss the place. Ever since Belle had arrived at Clearview, he had grown fond of it. Instead of his father’s punishments and recriminations, the house now reminded him of dancing and kisses.
“Clearview is clearly lost,” he said. “I shall miss it.”
“Come with me,” Phillip said. “I have a surprise.”
Rufus and Belle followed until they rounded the corner to the front courtyard. The sight there lodged his heart in his throat.
Villagers swarmed over his front steps as they worked to put out the fire. Buckets were passed back and forth, people with blankets put out spot fires, and ladders had been brought in to reach the higher floors.
“Most of the house might be saved,” Phillip said. “The worst damage seems to be in the east wing.” He clapped Rufus’s back. “For a man nicknamed ‘Lord Terror,’ your neighbors seem very keen to run to your aid.”
Speechless, Rufus could only smile. All these people had rushed to save his home. He would not forget this service.
MUCH LATER, AFTER the fire was all but extinguished, Rufus went in search of Belle. When he found her, he drew her toward the beech tree in the back garden where, during the ball, he had almost confessed his predicament to her.
Instead of the delight in yellow and lace she had worn then, she now had on borrowed servant’s garb that smelled and looked singed. Yet she still took his breath away whenever her violet gaze caught his, which had been often throughout the time they worked to fight the fire.
Earnest, who had become his shadow since he carried the dog from the burning house, followed him and sat by his feet. All three turned to study the remains of Clearview.
The surroundings seemed little changed. The burnt east wing walls were fallen in and were charred. The lawn and bushes still looked wintry in their layer of gray ash. The air smelled smoky, and each breath irritated the back of his throat. Instead of a moonlit sky, the sun was on the brink of setting.
A Beastly Scandal Page 27