The Queen's Gambit (The Wonderland Series: Book 4)

by Irina Shapiro

  Max walked toward the inn where he’d taken a room the day before. He had a few hours in which to come up with a plan since now he knew exactly what he had to do.

  Chapter 68

  I paced the parlor like a caged lioness, unable to settle down for even a moment. I had planned to go see Hugo first thing in the morning, but Archie dissuaded me, rightfully pointing out that the Tower might be locked down for the coronation and that even if it wasn’t, we’d need money to bribe a guard and to approach Hugo with no plan was pointless. We needed another day at least, since between the three of us we still had no clue how to proceed. Even in the clear light of day, we had no ideas. There was no one to bribe, no one to appeal to, and no one to ask for guidance. The only way to free Hugo was to break him out, and that was the equivalent of Mission Impossible.

  My tired brain suddenly conjured up an image of Alice in Wonderland at the Queen’s croquet match. “Off with his head!” the Queen of Hearts yelled in my mind, making me shake with terror. All I wanted was to wake up from this nightmare and find myself safe and sound in my own world, but this was my world now. There was no going back, no undoing what Hugo and I had done. It wasn’t just us anymore; we had children and people who depended on us.

  I finally sat down and accepted a cup of tea from Frances. She’d learned to like tea, and knew that it was my go-to remedy in times of crisis or indecision. Archie refused a cup. He remained by the window, looking out over the street as if he were expecting the answer to just present itself somewhere out in the street.

  “We need a plan,” I said yet again, but got no answer from either Archie or Frances. They remained mute, lost in their own helplessness.

  “Your ladyship, I think you and Frances should return to Surrey,” Archie suddenly suggested.

  “Why?”

  “The children need you, and there’s nothing you can do here. I will remain in London and try to find out what evidence the Crown has against Hugo. Only then can I attempt to find means to discredit it, or the person who’s provided it.”

  I gaped at Archie, reading between the lines. “Archie, are you suggesting that you will kill the person who might testify against Hugo?”

  “If I must,” Archie replied, his voice laced with tension. “They can’t send a man to his death without proof, and if the proof is unavailable, they might reconsider.”

  “But what if the proof is already in their hands? What if it’s a document of some sort?”

  “Hugo would never put anything in writing or sign his name,” Archie replied stubbornly. “Whatever they have is not enough to convict.”

  “It is if they want to make an example of him,” France said quietly, voicing what we were all thinking. “They don’t need solid proof, just enough to raise suspicion. Besides, as we know from the last trial, witnesses are not always truthful.”

  “I’m not leaving London until I see Hugo,” I said, my tone brooking no argument.

  “Tomorrow then,” Archie conceded as he stepped away from the window. “Then you go home.”

  “All right,” I replied through clenched teeth. How could I go home when Hugo was in the Tower, awaiting a trial which would most likely send him to his death? I needed to find a way to help him; I had before.

  We all started with surprise as a loud banging announced a visitor. I yelped in shock as hot tea spilled over my hand, and hastily put the cup down, following Archie into the foyer. He shooed Billingsley out of the way and carefully unlocked the door to admit Bradford Nash, who looked as if he’d ridden hell-for-leather for the past few hours.

  “Brad, you heard?” I asked as I went to him, taking his gloved hands in mine.

  “Heard what?” Brad asked, his confusion evident. His gaze flew from me to Archie and Frances, clearly looking for Hugo.

  “About Hugo’s arrest.”

  Brad froze, his eyes opening wide with shock. “Hugo’s been arrested? On what charge?”

  “Treason,” Archie spat out.

  Brad didn’t say anything, simply walked into the parlor and sat heavily on the settee. “Get me a drink,” he said to Billingsley who was hovering in the doorway, waiting to see if refreshments would be required.

  “I didn’t know about Hugo,” Brad said at last. “That wasn’t why I came.”

  I sank into a chair, suddenly cold all over. Brad had ridden to London on the day of the coronation because something was wrong at home. I tried to retain some semblance of control, but my hands were shaking in my lap as the implications of Brad’s arrival began to sink in.

  “The children…,” I mumbled, unable to form a sentence.

  “The children are fine, Neve,” Brad assured me immediately. “Harriet and Ruby are looking after them.”

  “What is it then?” I screamed, unable to contain my agitation any longer. “What’s happened?”

  “Neve, you mustn’t return to Cranley. An accusation of witchcraft has been made against you. An ecclesiastical committee has arrived at the behest of Reverend Snow. They will arrest you and force you to stand trial as soon as you return to Everly Manor.”

  “Oh, dear God,” I moaned, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Who accused me? And why?”

  “I don’t know. Ruby’s brother works at the inn and told her that three witch-hunters had taken rooms yesterday. Ruby came to tell me, thinking I might be able to do something to help.”

  I don’t know what Brad expected, but it wasn’t the hysterical laughter which bubbled inside me, making me laugh like someone who’d lost their mind. I couldn’t stop, laughing until tears ran down my cheeks. Then they became real as sobs shook my whole body. Brad looked taken aback, but Archie walked over, pulled me into his arms, and held me until the fit subsided and I slumped against him, feeling helpless and weak.

  “We will work this out,” he said to me as he looked into my eyes. “Do you hear me?”

  I nodded, unable to speak, my eyes drawn to the door of the parlor. I thought I must be hallucinating, but Frances jumped to her feet with a squeal.

  Jem stood in the doorway, his face pale at the sight of my tears. A smile that had been on his face only a moment ago was replaced by a look of fear as he inched into the room, no longer sure of his welcome.

  I stepped out of Archie’s embrace and went to Jem, pulling him against me with all the fierceness of a mother who was reunited with her child. Jem’s arms went around my waist, his face pressed against my chest as he held me tight.

  “I had to come,” he mumbled. “I needed to be with you all. Please don’t make me go back.”

  “Oh, Jemmy,” was all I could muster before dissolving in tears again.

  Chapter 69

  Night had fallen on London, ending a day of celebration and returning the jubilant masses to everyday reality. Hugo could see a few lights from his window, but for the most part, the city was shrouded in darkness, the sky strewn with countless stars which paled next to the crescent moon that shone like a beacon in the night sky. The prison was quiet, most people going to sleep to preserve their candles. Hugo had no candles. No one had brought him anything, and he had no money on him to pay for supplies. He’d been given a plate of cold mutton and bread, and a cup of ale for supper, but the food remained untouched, the smell of the meat turning his stomach.

  Neve hadn’t come. He couldn’t blame her. She was probably too angry to even talk to him, and she had every right to be. His only wish was that she wouldn’t come to the execution. He could face death with dignity if he were on his own, but if Neve were there, watching him with eyes full of love and pain, he would break down and cry like a child, unable to pull himself together and behave like a man. He’d always thought that he wasn’t afraid of death, but he was. Not the moment itself, but the knowing what he would lose. He would never see his children grow up, or hold Neve in his arms again, smelling her sweet hair and hearing her intake of breath as he kissed her neck or slid his hand between her thighs. He would cease to exist, cease to matter to those he loved. They wo
uld forget him in time and move on, leaving him to burn in the Hell of his own making.

  Hugo turned away from the window when he heard the scrape of a key in the lock. Surely it was too late for visitors. He strained to see in the dark, but with no candle, all he saw was a hooded figure entering his cell. The guard’s lantern cast a pool of golden light onto his visitor, but the man’s face —and it was definitely a man, judging by his height and the breadth of the shoulders— remained in shadow, hidden by the deep cowl.

  “Ten minutes, ye hear?” the guard called as he locked the door, leaving the two men alone in the darkness.

  “Archie is that you?” Hugo enquired calmly as he peered into the gloom. He was fairly certain that the person standing in front of him wasn’t Archie; Archie wasn’t given to such theatrics and would have revealed himself right away. But Hugo hoped to identify his visitor from the sound of his voice, if that’s all he had to go on.

  The man remained silent as he continued forward until he stood by the window. Hugo waited patiently; arms crossed, head cocked to the side, all senses on full alert. He couldn’t begin to fathom the purpose of this nocturnal visit, but wasn’t fool enough to believe it bode well for him. Friends didn’t come cloaked under cover of darkness.

  The man finally pushed back the hood of his cloak, the moonlight revealing the unexpectedly familiar features of his visitor. Hugo stared in astonishment, not bothering to hide his surprise.

  “Hello, Hugo,” Max said. A small smile played about his moonlit face and his eyes glowed with amusement at having caught Hugo off-guard. “It seems we were destined to meet again.”

  The End

  Comes The Dawn (Wonderland Series: Book 5)

  Coming Fall 2016

  Please turn the page for an excerpt

  Excerpt from Comes the Dawn

  (Wonderland Series: Book 5)

  April 1689

  London, England

  Chapter 1

  Feeble moonlight streamed through the narrow window of the cell casting a silvery pall onto the stone floor. The flame of a single candle threw shifting shadows onto the walls, giving off barely enough light to see by, the tiny orange orb the only warmth in the chill of the prison. The night outside was utterly still, as if even the wind was too wary to blow, but the air inside the cell crackled with tension, an electric current coursing between the two men facing each other across the small space, both braced for a confrontation.

  Hugo studied Max’s features. He hadn’t seen Max in several years, not since the showdown in the Paris mine when Max had kidnapped Neve and Valentine and lured Hugo to what he hoped was his own execution. Things didn’t go according to plan, at least not for Max, but Hugo had to admit that on some level, he was relieved that he hadn’t killed Max that day since he didn’t want the man’s death on his conscience. But, oh how he wished never to lay eyes on him again. How was it possible for a man he barely knew to harbor such hatred against him and pursue him across time and space?

  Max hadn’t changed much physically, but something had shifted in his demeanor. There was a watchfulness which hadn’t been there before, a strange sort of resignation almost, which left Hugo wary and confused. Max’s presence in Hugo’s cell was inexplicable, but then again, most things Max had done since their unfortunate meeting years ago in the twenty-first century had been beyond comprehension. Max was driven by a madness which had been nearly impossible to detect behind his urbane exterior, his need to possess Neve bordering on obsession. Was this why he was here now? To gloat over Hugo’s helplessness as he once again made a play for his family? Hugo balled his hands into fists, ready to beat the man to a pulp, but he sensed no outward hostility from the other man, just a sense of expectation, so he took a step back and forced himself to relax.

  “Have you come to finish me off?” Hugo asked calmly. “Or just to gloat?”

  “Neither, actually,” Max replied, holding up both hands to show Hugo that he held no concealed weapon. His expression was strangely bland, which irritated Hugo even further.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I had to speak to you. It’s rather important.”

  “Well, say your piece then,” Hugo said with a shrug. “I can’t imagine what we have to say to each other at this juncture.”

  “Hugo, I’ve wronged you, and I wish to make amends,” Max began, but was interrupted by Hugo’s harsh laugh. This really was too much.

  “You must be joking,” Hugo spat out. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  “Hugo, please, hear me out.” Max spread his hands in a gesture of peace, but Hugo was in no mood to listen. The man had unimaginable gall. Perhaps Hugo would be more inclined to listen if they were on even terms, but Hugo’s position of helplessness infuriated him. He was locked up, unarmed, and entirely without resources, unable to defend himself or his family.

  “Go away, Max,” Hugo growled, suddenly furious. “You’ve tried to kill me twice. You’ve kidnapped my wife and child, and now that I am finally where you want me, you wish to make amends? I find that difficult to believe. Just know this: if you do anything to harm Neve or my children, I will haunt you from beyond the grave.” He winced at the futility of his threat. Was that the only thing left to him? Making empty threats?

  “Will you just shut up and listen?” Max retorted, his patience at an end. “I realize you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but I’ve had a lot of time to think, Hugo. I’ve always imagined myself to be special. I ridiculed the very notion of God, believing myself to be too superior to need such an obvious delusion. Faith was for those who were less fortunate than I, for those who needed a higher being to pander to, a fairy tale to make their pitiful lives more bearable. I took everything for granted, and thought that my money and position could pave the way for anything I wanted. And it had, until I met your charming wife,” he added sarcastically. “Coming to this God-forsaken century made me realize that I am nothing, and it’s a painful truth to face up to. I am a coward, a bully, and a man no one loves. I have nothing and no one to go back to. The only person who ever loved me was my mother, and even if she is still alive, she won’t be for much longer.”

  “What’s your point?” Hugo asked, still annoyed, but also mildly curious. This wasn’t the overly confident, pompous man he’d met before who wore his superiority like a shield. This man appeared more human, more vulnerable; unless this was all an act designed to win Hugo’s trust before striking the fatal blow.

  “My point is that I want my life to count for something,” Max explained patiently. “You are the better man, Hugo; you always had been. Maybe that’s why the woman I fancied myself in love with gave up everything to follow you to the past. She knew right away that you were the one who deserved her love, not I. She saw something in you that she knew I lacked— moral fiber, honor, strength of character; all the things women yearn for, but rarely find.”

  “That’s very touching, Max, and I applaud your newly found humility, but I don’t see what you are getting at,” Hugo replied. He was thoroughly confused, but hated to admit it. Max was up to something, but damn if he knew what that was, and he hated the feeling of trying to retain his equilibrium on shifting sand.

  Max removed his cloak and shoved it at Hugo. “I want you to put this on and walk out. Go back to your family and keep them safe.”

  “Are you mad?” Hugo was growing angry again, his patience growing thin. This was all a trick, the purpose of which he had yet to work out. Max was as cunning as ever.

  “No, I am not. I think I am truly sane for the first time in my life. Hugo, go back to the twenty-first century. Take over my life. Be Lord Everly.”

  Hugo stared at Max, whose eyes glowed with an inner light Hugo found difficult to reconcile with the old Max. He seemed to be overcome with fervor, like a martyr offering to die for his convictions. He’d spoken of God earlier. Perhaps he’d found the solace of religion, but that still didn’t explain this largesse.

  “Even if I accepted, which
I won’t, how could I get away with it?” Hugo asked, a tiny pinprick of hope growing somewhere in his soul. He could never take Max up on his offer, but there was something else he could do. An idea was taking root in his mind, the pinprick now growing bigger and brighter.

  “People believe what they want to believe. If you say you are Maximillian Everly, people will believe you, even if deep down, they have their doubts. There are only three people who can disprove the claim: my mother, my physician, and my dentist. I have never been fingerprinted, and the doctors are bound by laws of confidentiality. They cannot reveal any information unless subpoenaed by the courts. Only my mother would know for sure.”

  “I am sorry, Max, but your mother is gone,” Hugo said softly. “We’ve had a visit from Simon a few months back.”

  “You’ve met Simon? He knows about the passage?” Max gasped, his gaze suddenly more alert. Hugo could see a momentary flash of pain behind the eyes. Max had obviously cared for Simon, although Hugo wasn’t sure if he realized that the housekeeper’s brat he’d lorded it over was really his half-brother.

  “It would seem so. He escaped from his own wedding.”

  Max suddenly chuckled, his face alight with amusement. “That’s Simon all right. He went back, did he? Good, this is no place for him. Anyway, Hugo, this is your only chance. I am willingly giving it to you. Take it before I change my mind.”