by Liz Tyner
By no means would he become a husband.
Because this wasn’t to be the same marriage he’d had before.
He could leave when he wished. He’d made her no promises or no real vows. He’d stood up with her and the only tie of their wedding was that they were bound together for ever on a special licence.
He shut his eyes and imagined Mary and thought of her watching him get married, and crying into her handkerchief.
*
As the sun set, Katherine found herself on the steps of her old home, Brandt’s hand at her elbow. She shivered and his clasp tightened.
But it was worth it to get a family. And if Brandt didn’t want his, that was fine. She’d take them. Gussie would have another grandmother besides the governess. Uncles. Aunts. A world of family that Katherine had never had.
When she looked at the house, she couldn’t move forward. Her father and her mother had died in the house. She’d been born there.
‘Tell the house goodbye, Katherine. It’s best.’
She looked at the house—staring at the ivy growing up the filigree. When she raised her eyes to the next level, she saw the window at the end which was her stepfather’s. She looked up to the third floor, where she sometimes escaped to find peace.
The house had been tainted. She could leave it behind. She only wished Augustine had not gained it by marriage.
Weddle, the butler, opened the towering door and Katherine saw his lips curl into a sneer before he stepped back and maintained the perfected disinterest.
‘I do believe we must speak with Augustine. He is not expecting us, but I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings by passing by.’
Weddle’s snowy mane never moved and his pinched eyes never stilled.
Brandt turned, his body shielding her from Weddle, and offered his arm to her.
She didn’t want to step inside. She’d tasted freedom, savoured it, and now, with a few steps, she would be returning to where she’d been a near prisoner. But she would be with her sister.
Brandt gave her a nudge, while standing close, becoming a protective barrier. She stepped over the threshold. The polished wood and the lingering scent of lemons almost welcomed her, but Weddle dispelled any pleasant feelings she might have without so much as a bobble of his chin.
She looked at Weddle. He stood like a stone monument to himself. He’d worked for her father, then her mother and then her stepfather. His loyalty had been given to whoever allowed him the most time in front of a mirror. His hair was his glory and his livery never creased.
‘I will let him know you’ve arrived.’ His eyes smirked, even when his voice remained pleasant.
She turned. Brandt studied the area around him. Every surface gleamed even in the dim light and nothing had an apparent nick or look of use.
‘I don’t believe he likes me,’ Brandt said. ‘Might there be a footman about who can be trusted? We will need someone to carry your things to the vehicle.’
‘I believe there is a younger one who has a good heart. He’s helped Mrs Caudle and me when we’ve needed him.’
‘Tell me where I might find the footman.’
She pointed him in the direction of the man’s quarters. ‘I’ll ring and send someone for him.’
Brandt arched a brow and turned to her. ‘I am comfortable with walking into the servants’ quarters. If they are not comfortable with it, they may speak about it amongst themselves afterwards.’
He took her arm and they walked downstairs. After finding someone to complete his request, he asked, ‘Where might Augustine be?’
‘His library.’
They took the servants’ stairs and moved back to the main quarters.
This staircase stretched out like a goblin’s mouth, ready to take them in. She touched the banister and began her ascent. With each step she took, she felt Brandt behind her and his strength surrounded her.
She didn’t knock at the door to the library, but whooshed it open.
Augustine sat at his desk, a pen in his hand, and looked up as she walked into the room. The gloom of the room enveloped him and she could smell spoiled greens. He raised his eyebrows a bit when he saw her, but otherwise showed no surprise.
Augustine spread his fingers, letting the pen clatter to the table.
Fillmore stood at Augustine’s shoulder. ‘You’ve returned to me.’ Then he frowned, looking at Brandt. ‘Goodbye.’
‘My husband. I wanted you to meet him.’ Katherine stood beside Brandt as he entered. ‘We married today by special licence.’ She looked at Augustine. ‘You should reimburse him for it. A dowry of sorts.’
‘Ha.’ Fillmore stepped from the shadows. His eyes hardened. ‘Augustine doesn’t have enough funds to do so.’
‘The money my grandfather left my mother.’ Katherine raised her chin.
‘He’s spent it. All that your father didn’t gamble away,’ Fillmore said, shrugging. ‘Without me, he wouldn’t be able to pay any servants. He’d have to empty his own chamber pot.’
Augustine stood, his mouth as bland as she had ever seen it, his eyes slits under droopy lids. ‘Katherine, you’d have been better off with my choice.’ He appraised Brandt. ‘Much better.’
Fillmore’s smile oozed on to his face. ‘Not really.’ His eyebrow arched.
Brandt put his hand on her shoulder and the touch was as protective as any shield.
Fillmore stopped. ‘Did you know I had you followed, Katherine? Many times. I just couldn’t figure out what you were doing to visit a person’s lodgings who was barely able to stand.’ He pulled his hand up and examined his fingernails. ‘I just didn’t think you such a quick worker and I didn’t realise you’d get someone to take you in the night. My mistake, but again, you’ll pay for it.’ He paused. ‘But I wouldn’t have waited if I’d known how slippery you could be. That sister of yours will be in the madhouse before nightfall.’
‘Gussie is my child,’ Augustine said. ‘I make the decision on when she goes to the madhouse.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Brandt said. ‘We’re taking Katherine’s sister. She leaves with us.’
‘You can have her, Katherine. A wedding gift from me,’ Fillmore said. ‘But you have to stay here to keep her.’
‘Collect her, Katherine. Now.’ Brandt’s stance widened and firmed.
Katherine paused.
Fillmore stepped closer to Brandt. ‘You think you have Katherine, but you don’t.’
Brandt and Fillmore’s eyes locked and in the same moment Fillmore reached into his coat, Brandt moved forward, shoving him against the wall, Brandt holding Fillmore’s wrist. He’d not taken the knife from the sheath.
‘I spent the last years of my life in a tavern,’ Brandt said to Fillmore. ‘Not a month goes by without a blade flashing.’ Then he spun Fillmore around and shoved him, knocking him into Augustine’s desk.
Augustine had a drawer open, and was reaching inside. Brandt lunged forward, still moving towards Fillmore, and grabbed him, slinging him across the desk and on to Augustine. A pistol clattered to the floor.
He still ploughed forward, shoving the desk, and then turned sideways, reaching for the gun on the floor, glancing at it. Augustine had finally learned to clean his guns.
‘You won’t shoot me,’ Fillmore said, standing. ‘You’d hang for it.’
Brandt handed the gun to Katherine, then stepped forward. ‘Don’t have to shoot you.’ He reached out, grabbed Fillmore by the throat. Fillmore clasped the knife handle. Brandt grabbed Fillmore’s wrist, slamming him into the wall. The knife clattered to the floor.
Fillmore spoke from between clenched teeth. ‘You can kill me, but you’ll hang. And if you take Gussie, you’ll be charged with kidnapping.’
‘Sounds like an easy solution to me. A slow death for you. A quick end for me. But there’s something else you should know. I’ve had my elder brother contact the Duke of Carville. While he and Katherine may not be acquainted, he’s even less fond of anyone who might try to harm her. If you w
ish to continue to do business in this town, I think it best for both of you to keep your distance from her. Or face his power.’
‘Take Gussie,’ Augustine shouted, pushing himself up from the floor. ‘I’m getting rid of her anyway. She’s my child. Katherine can have her. Better with her sister than locked away. The little nuisance bothers my humours. I never intended to send her away anyway, but it kept Katherine in line.’
Brandt looked over his shoulder. Katherine turned to Augustine and had her finger on the trigger. The pistol was pointed at his head. She held the gun with both hands and she cocked the hammer.
‘Katherine. Katherine,’ Brandt said her name. She didn’t move.
He shoved back from Fillmore, toppling him again, and secured the knife in his own waistband. The intensity on Katherine’s face stilled Fillmore and Augustine.
Brandt stepped gently towards her. ‘I’ll take that,’ he whispered. He put his hands out and with his left hand under the gun, and his right hand above, he put his forefinger between the hammer and the flange.
‘Katherine. If you pull the trigger, it’s going to pinch my finger like blazes.’
‘He’s not going to hurt you or Gussie.’
‘No,’ Brandt reassured her. ‘Remember, I have two brothers and one has a pack of dogs. You’ll be safe. We’ll all be safe.’
‘Just get out of my house and take the brat with you,’ Augustine said. ‘I never want to see either of you again.’
She looked up at Brandt. ‘I must get Gussie.’
Chapter Nineteen
Katherine ran up the stairs to the next storey and flung open the door to the old nursery. She put one hand on the frame and leaned in. ‘Mrs Caudle, get Gussie. Take her to the carriage outside now.’
‘I’ve already packed a satchel for us,’ Mrs Caudle answered, turning, her skirt swirling at her ankles. ‘Gussie. Come here.’
The door wobbled of the adjoining room and, with a slow creak of opening, a small face peered around the wood.
A squeak hit the air and a bright-eyed child ran into the room. She bounded forward and threw herself against Katherine, squeezing with all her might.
Katherine’s heart thumped. She took Gussie’s arms and knelt down to give Gussie a cheek-to-cheek hug.
Gussie squirmed free and reached up and gave a pinch to Katherine’s nose and pretended to hold it in her hands. Katherine reached out, grabbed the imaginary nose and wiggled it back on to her face. Gussie laughed.
‘I missed you. Did you miss me?’
Gussie nodded vigorously, her braids bouncing.
‘Now you are going on an adventure with me. We are going to live in a different house. Mrs Caudle will go with us, too.’
Gussie listened.
‘We shall take your dolls as well.’ Katherine rose. Gussie smiled, nodded her head once more and gave Katherine another hug and took her hand. She rested her forehead against Katherine’s side.
With Gussie’s hand in hers, and with Mrs Caudle behind them, Katherine ran downstairs, catching up with the footman carrying the trunk of clothing. Brandt stood in the doorway of Augustine’s room, still holding the weapon.
After they jumped into the carriage, Brandt followed behind a few moments later. He walked to the shrubbery and pulled the trigger, discharging the weapon, and then followed them into the carriage.
As the vehicle rolled away, Katherine used her free hand to indicate him. ‘This is Brandt,’ she said to Gussie.
Brandt stared at the little child. He took in a breath to calm himself.
‘Gussie.’ Brandt gave her a nod. ‘You have a beautiful smile.’
She frowned and shook her head.
He didn’t want to ask the question in his head. He didn’t want to hear the answer.
‘Fine.’ He shrugged. ‘You look meaner than a snake.’
Gussie looked up at Katherine, a question in her eyes.
‘Pay him no mind,’ Katherine said. ‘He’s had a rough day. But he’s taking us to our new home.’
‘Do you speak, Gussie?’ Brandt asked.
She shook her head. If she didn’t speak, she couldn’t answer him. ‘How old are you, little one?’
She held up her hand, fingers splayed.
Nathan would have been five on his next birthday, if he had lived.
Brandt waited for the blackness inside him to fade enough so that he could see, then he reached behind him and opened the carriage window. He shouted to the driver to take them to a livery.
He had to get another horse because he was not riding all the distance to his house in the same carriage as the two women and the child.
Besides, he’d need a way to return to his room.
*
When the carriage pulled up in front of his mother’s house, Brandt jumped from the horse and handed the reins to one of the carriage drivers. The dogs were barking loud enough to stir anyone from miles around.
He opened the door and Katherine stepped out.
Katherine turned back for Gussie.
‘No,’ she squealed. ‘No.’ She turned back, burying herself in Mrs Caudle’s arms.
‘Gussie. Come out. We’re going to meet your new family.’
Katherine pried from the front. Mrs Caudle pushed from the back. He watched, refusing to enter the fray. Nathan would never have acted so. Never.
‘She’s nervous of the dogs,’ Mrs Caudle said.
They got Gussie out of the carriage and Mrs Caudle held her. Gussie’s legs dangled, far too big to be carried.
‘Bear. Bear.’ Gussie hugged Mrs Caudle’s neck, crying.
Harlan came out of the house. He called to the dogs and they quieted. He moved his hand and they sat.
‘Bear,’ she said and sniffled.
Katherine shook her head. ‘It’s not Bear.’ Eyes apologetic, she turned to Harlan. ‘Our neighbour had a dog he called Bear. It chased Gussie and it scarred her leg where it bit her.’
Harlan reached down, patted the dog nearest him. He pointed behind the house. ‘Barn.’ The dogs trotted away. Harlan stepped forward. ‘You don’t have to worry about my dogs. They are smarter than they look.’
Gussie quieted and Mrs Caudle sat her down.
His mother stepped out of the house and moved down the steps. ‘I didn’t expect you back so soon.’
‘Things have changed, much more quickly than I expected, and I thought to keep you informed.’ He turned to Katherine. ‘We were married today. She, Gussie and Gussie’s governess will be living in my house.’
His mother’s eyes widened and her hand crimped the fabric of her skirt at her hip. ‘You’re married?’ she asked. ‘I thought—’
‘Could you send servants to pack up Mary’s things today? It’s time they were given to—to someone who needs them.’
‘Of course.’ She reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Would you oversee it with Katherine, Mother?’
‘All of Mary’s things?’ The words moved slowly from his mother’s lips.
He thought of the house and the things he remembered. ‘I’d like to keep the drawings she did, but pack them away for later.’
She sniffled louder than the little girl had. ‘Of course.’
He moved forward and touched her shoulder. He couldn’t tell her that he would only be living in his house temporarily. She would have been crushed again.
‘I loved Mary, too.’ She sniffed again, then turned to Katherine. ‘And I’m so pleased to have you in the house. It needs a family. Houses do.’ She sniffed. ‘Just like mothers.’
He reached out, putting an arm around his mother’s waist. ‘Mother, you always have family, even when we aren’t here.’
‘I know.’ She patted him. ‘Now I’ve some work to do. If you will excuse me.’ She turned to Harlan. ‘Send the stable men on horses. We are going to have a few chores to do before nightfall. I’ll ride in the carriage.’ She paused, a finger to her chin. ‘Linens,’ she said. ‘Linens.’
&nbs
p; Then she looked at Harlan. ‘And have the men pull a cart around to the back. I’m going to need a few things to take with us.’
Then she smiled at Katherine. ‘We’ll have you settled in no time.’
*
Brandt’s mother had stripped the linens from the master bedroom, had the men move the furniture around and exchanged some of the prints on the wall with ones from her house. Katherine knew she’d not wanted her son to step back into the world he’d lived before.
Now Katherine sat in Gussie’s room, with Mrs Caudle asleep on top of the covers, the house empty except for the few servants his mother had instructed to stay.
Gussie had the wooden rabbit. ‘Hop. Hop. Hop.’ Then she looked at Katherine. ‘Moo.’
‘Rabbits don’t moo,’ Katherine said. ‘Cows moo.’
Gussie looked at the rabbit, and laughed. ‘It pretends…it’s a cow.’ She hopped along with it. Then she growled and held the rabbit up. ‘Bites…bears. Bites bears hard.’ She growled and hopped closer.
Katherine raised her head, realising Brandt stood in the doorway, watching, face grim as any undertaker’s.
Gussie’s white muslin dress had its familiar smear of jam at the shoulder where she always had to be reminded not to wipe her face when she finished eating.
Brandt watched.
Certainly he would see how dear Gussie was.
‘You need to read to me, Angel Eyes.’ Katherine put her arm around the thin shoulders and pulled Gussie against her, stilling the little one from flitting around and slipping the rabbit from her sister’s hands. ‘I read to you last time.’
Gussie’s head slanted to lean against Katherine. ‘Sleepy.’
She lifted the book. ‘You will read the first page to me,’ Katherine negotiated. ‘You read the first and I’ll read the rest to you.’
Gussie shrugged in a way that dismissed Katherine’s plea.
‘You talk too much.’ Leaning to her, Katherine squeezed Gussie’s shoulders again.
Gussie looked at Katherine, scrunched her face and then reached to pull Katherine’s head to hers. Katherine felt a tiny kiss on her cheek.
Then Gussie clasped the book with one hand and held the book in front of Katherine’s face and turned the pages.