Blood Marriage

by Regina Richards

  Elizabeth sat down. Katie rinsed her hands in the water pitcher, swallowed a sob, and began to brush and dress Elizabeth's hair. In the mirror, Elizabeth could see the girl's hands shaking as she twisted the thick tresses into a simple Spanish knot. When a fat tear rolled down the maid's cheek, Elizabeth could stand it no longer.

  "Katie, do you dress my husband's hair, care for his clothes?"

  The maid looked startled. "Of course not, ma'am."

  "Then don't you think, since you work for me, you should take your orders from me? What is going on?"

  Katie pressed her lips together. She stuck a final hairpin into the Spanish knot and stepped back, her hands clenched over her chest. Guilt washed over Elizabeth. Not a month ago Elizabeth herself had been an employee in a wealthy household. She'd just put the girl in the position all servants dread, caught between the conflicting orders of their master and mistress.

  "It's all right, Katie."

  The maid directed a teary smile at Elizabeth's reflection in the mirror. "I'll bring up a breakfast tray as quick as I can. Cook took to her bed when she got the news, they were re-related, but..." Katie pressed her eyelids closed, releasing a stream of tears. "But... I can make s-something simple."

  "It's not necessary."

  Elizabeth had no intention of waiting on breakfast. She picked up a bottle of peppermint water and whished some through her mouth. Katie held out the dove gray morning dress. Elizabeth sighed at the maid's choice. Dozens of tiny buttons ran down the back from neck to spine. This dress would take forever to do up and Elizabeth was impatient to see Nicholas and find out what had happened. She stepped into the gown and pulled the short puffed sleeves up over her arms while Katie stepped behind her.

  "It's no trouble. I'll be making something to take to Margaret as well. She doesn't know yet." Katie began buttoning the dress from the bottom up. "It's going to break her heart," the girl sniffed, "when she finds out her Lennie isn't really Lennie."

  "Who is he?" Elizabeth frowned. Katie's fingers paused at small of her back.

  "A Bow Street runner," the maid whispered. "Come to keep us all from being murdered in our beds."

  A chill ran down Elizabeth's spine.

  "Not that it worked." Katie's fingers closed another button, then paused again.

  "We, the staff I mean, were already scared after what happened to Margaret. Some started packing this morning as soon as they heard. Lots more are wondering if they can stay in this house another night, after his body was found like that right in our own stables. Jimmy was waiting for his lordship and--"

  "Body?" Elizabeth whirled to face the girl. Katie's eyes went round and her hand came up to cover her mouth.

  "Oh no! Don't tell his lordship I told you! I swear I didn't mean to...Lady Devlin?"

  Elizabeth left the room running. She raced down the stairs, through the kitchens, and out to the stables. Please don't let that boy be dead she prayed over and over as she ran, seeing Jimmy in her mind's eye, so young and eager, hay sticking from his clothes and hair as he waited.

  Waited for her husband, the vampire, to come home.

  The stable door was open. Elizabeth rushed into the building, heading straight toward the stalls where the stallion and roan where kept, straight for the place she'd spoken to Jimmy last night. Half a dozen men were gathered there. They stood in a semi-circle, their backs to her, staring down at the hay pile where the boy had waited last night, hoping to impress Devlin with his devotion to his duties.

  "One and one half inches apart," Lennie said, rising from where he'd been kneeling in the hay and tapping a small measuring stick against his square palm. "Like the others."

  "No!" Elizabeth gasped as she rushed forward.

  The men turned as one. Bergen was the closest. He moved like silent lightning, darting out to meet her, catching her in his arms before she could get close enough to see what lay in the hay.

  "Let me go!"

  She struggled against Bergen's chest, needing to see for herself, prove to herself that what Katie had said wasn't true. Nicholas was moving toward her as well, but a stout well-dressed man Elizabeth didn't recognize exchanged a glance with Lennie and together they stepped in front of her husband, blocking his way.

  In a nearby stall, Nicholas's stallion stamped and snorted as if sharing his master's distress. The stall where the roan had been the night before was empty. Elizabeth stopped struggling against the doctor and frowned. Where was the duke's horse? The men's eyes followed hers in that direction. Bergen shook her gently, pulling her attention back to him.

  "There's nothing here you should see, Elizabeth," the doctor's eyes locked with hers. "Nothing you need to see. Nothing you need to say."

  Something in his voice and in his pale eyes soothed her, quieting her fears. She found herself calming, detaching. She relaxed in his arms.

  "Good girl," he whispered. Without releasing her gaze, he turned his head and nodded once in her husband's direction. Then he said, "Come with me, Elizabeth."

  The doctor took one of her hands in his, placing his other hand at the small of her back. His eyes never left hers as he began guiding her toward the stable door, away from the other men. Elizabeth went without protest, though a part of her wondered why she did so. Her dress was still open. She hadn't given Katie a chance to finish more than a few buttons and she could feel the warmth of the doctor's hand on her back. That was wrong. She should pull away from such a familiar touch, but it didn't seem to matter. Even what she knew did matter -- the fact that an innocent boy was dead -- seemed a distant thing, not to be worried about.

  They'd gone no more than a few steps when a voice called out from behind them.

  "Just a moment, Dr. Bergen. I'd like to speak with the lady."

  Bergen stopped. He turned from Elizabeth to face the man. "Of course Detective Fielding, but Lady Devlin is obviously distressed. Perhaps it would be best if I take her into the house first and give her something to calm her nerves. We can await you in the salon."

  Released from that strange gaze, Elizabeth felt the calm seeping away to be replaced once again with fear and sorrow. She pulled free of Bergen's touch and headed toward the hay once more. Nicholas shouldered his way past Lennie and the portly little man Bergen had called Detective Fielding. This time it was Nicholas who caught Elizabeth by the arm and prevented her from going further.

  "The doctor is right. My wife has had a shock, as have we all. It would be best if Dr. Bergen took her back to the house."

  Leo and Randall moved from where they'd been standing in front of the hay pile. Leo nodded in agreement. Randall, his face covered with welts and scratches, smirked in his usual manner. His appearance here after what had happened last night seemed odd, but Elizabeth spared him no more than a glance, her attention riveted on the leg and booted foot made visible by the men's shift in position.

  "Oh, Jimmy," she sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry." And then she frowned. There was something odd about that boot. Something wrong. It was too large.

  "Jimmy?" Detective Fielding repeated. "Why, Lady Devlin, would you think that it was Jimmy?"

  "But who..?" Elizabeth eyes swept the men.

  "It's Karl Grubner, Elizabeth," Nicholas said quietly. "He's been in charge of the stables here since before I was born." He handed her back to Bergen. "Take her to the house."

  But Detective Fielding and Lennie had repositioned themselves between their quarry and her exit.

  "There are more than a half dozen men and boys working in this stable," the detective said and stepped closer to Elizabeth. "Why would you think it was Jimmy who'd been--"

  The rapid clip-clop of horse's hooves interrupted him as a rider entered the stable yard. Within seconds the duke trotted his sweating roan into the building, reining it in within a few yards of the group gathered there.

  He was jacket-less, his cravat untied and loose around his neck. The collar of his fine linen shirt was open at the throat. His blond hair was disheveled and his clothes were as rumple
d as if he'd slept in them. Yet he had the same relaxed expression on his face Elizabeth had grown accustomed to.

  "Ha, what brings you all to the stables this fine morning?" The duke's eyes narrowed and his expression changed. From his seat atop the roan he looked down on them, but it was the body of his stable master he focused on. He came down off the horse, shoving past the other men without a word.

  "Father." Nicholas tried to stop him, but Marlbourne shook free of his son and went to kneel beside the body. A stable lad quietly led the roan to the other end of the building. No one said a word. Finally the duke rose to his feet and took a warming blanket from a peg on the wall. The tenderness with which he covered the body made Elizabeth's heart ache.

  Detective Fielding stepped forward and started to speak. The duke silenced him with an upheld hand.

  "Where is Vlad?" Marlbourne addressed the question to his son, his voice harsh and gravelly. There was a firmness to his jaw and a steely look in his eyes Elizabeth had not seen before. The hedonistic lord was gone, replaced by a man of power and authority.

  "In the house, trying to keep the staff from deserting us," Nicholas replied.

  "The library in ten minutes," the duke said to the men. "You, Nicholas, in my study. Now."

  "Your Grace," Detective Fielding began.

  "The library in ten minutes." The duke barely raised his voice, yet his tone roared.

  The detective's eyes narrowed, his lips compressed. The duke started to leave, but stopped abruptly. He stared at Elizabeth as if he'd just noticed she was there. His brows shot up and his gaze raked over the other men. To Elizabeth's surprise several of them flushed. The duke took Elizabeth's hand, placing it on his arm.

  "Come, my dear," he said, both his voice and his expression gentle.

  He led them all into the house and left Elizabeth standing before the stairs in the faint circle of morning light from the transom window. He waved the men down the hall to the library. Then without a backward glance, went to his study. Nicholas gave Elizabeth a reassuring half-smile and directed her up the stairs with a lift of his chin. He waited until the other men left the hall before following his father.

  Elizabeth was a third of the way up the stairs when an iron grip seized her elbow. She sucked in a startled breath. Lennie backed her down the stairs, the hard expression on his bruised face brooking no refusal.

  "Lady Devlin," the burly runner practically growled at her. "Detective Fielding requests you join him in the library."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  "Lady Devlin. So glad you decided to join us." Detective Fielding greeted Elizabeth with a too-friendly smile, standing in unison with the other men as Lennie ushered her into the library.

  Lennie motioned toward a sofa near the empty fireplace. Elizabeth got the impression that he'd be happy to propel her into it if she refused. But she was relieved to sit down, to press her exposed back against the concealing material of the sofa and feel the soothing chill of leather against her over-warm flesh.

  The men took up positions around the room. Leo, who had risen to his feet with the other men, sank back into a chair near the fireplace, his expression somber and worried. Though it was barely eight o'clock, Randall limped to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of the duke's brandy. He held the decanter up to the other men. When they shook their heads Randall shrugged and went to stand at the window, staring out at the morning landscape and wincing as the alcohol burned the cut on his lip. Lennie took a wide stance near the door, as if he intended to make sure no one left the room. He no longer wore the duke's livery. It had been replaced by a plain brown suit. A white gauze wrapped the palm of his right hand and one sleeve of his suit was abnormally bulky, as if the arm beneath was also bandaged. Bergen stood leaning against the fireplace mantle, his body relaxed, his eyes watchful.

  "May I?" Detective Fielding asked, indicating the place on the sofa next to Elizabeth. He sat down, his expression sympathetic. It reminded Elizabeth of the various doctors over the years who'd delivered bad news about her father, her brothers, and finally her mother. Such carefully practiced solicitude always meant trouble.

  The thought of her family made her straighten her spine. She had no reason to fear this man. What could he do to her? Upstairs her mother lay dying. And though Elizabeth herself was experiencing a strange, sporadic reprieve from the symptoms of her disease, she wouldn't lie to herself. She was dying as well. There was nothing Detective Fielding could do to frighten her. Nothing. Except threaten the man she loved and steal whatever time she had left with him.

  "Lady Devlin," the detective began, "you understand that a man is dead?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "And a girl attacked," Lennie added from his post near the door. Detective Fielding wrinkled his brow at his subordinate, but that look of pique was instantly masked by benign solicitude when he looked back at Elizabeth.

  "Do you think a person, any person, should be allowed to get away with murder, Lady Devlin?"

  "Are you saying Karl Grubner was murdered?" she asked.

  "What else?" Fielding's expression remained amiable, but his eyes hardened.

  "An animal most likely," Randall spoke from his place near the window. He swallowed the last of his brandy and returned to the decanter.

  "An animal no doubt, but we believe one of the two-legged variety," Detective Fielding said. "Lady Devlin, I know this has been a shock for you, but I do need to ask you some questions."

  "You'd better wait for Nicholas," Leo said from his chair. "He'll want to be present if you intend to question his wife."

  "And if it turns out I need to question her officially, then of course, any husband would want to be present at that sort of encounter," Fielding agreed smoothly. "But surely you don't think I suspect Lady Devlin of anything. She would hardly be capable of over-powering a man the size of Grubner."

  "Wait for Nick," Leo said.

  The detective kept his eyes on Elizabeth.

  "Did you sleep well last night, Lady Devlin?" Fielding asked.

  Before Elizabeth could answer, one of the men who'd been with Lennie and Detective Fielding in the stable came into the room. He stayed only long enough to whisper in the burly runner's ear and hand him something.

  Elizabeth recognized the book that had been sitting on her dresser that morning. The runners had searched their room. If it was true they didn't suspect her, they must suspect Nicholas.

  Elizabeth thought of the ashes in the fireplace, of Nicholas carrying her from her mother's room. He'd been as wet as if he'd taken a dip in a pond. Or a horse trough. She shook her head trying to rid her mind of images of what he might have been trying to wash away. Her husband was not a murderer. Detective Fielding must have thought she was shaking her head in response to his question.

  "You didn't sleep well?" Fielding's voice was low, almost coaxing. He leaned in close, too close. "Why?"

  Across the room Bergen cleared his throat. The fine hairs on the back of Elizabeth's neck stood up, warning her to be careful about what she said. Nicholas was not capable of murder. She knew that, but the runners didn't. They'd already searched her husband's room. Hardly something one did to the son of a man as powerful as the duke without cause. How much did they know or suspect about last night? And why had that information led them to Nicholas when there had been others out as well?

  Elizabeth glanced over at Lennie who still held the book he'd given her last night. As if that were a cue, he advanced and placed the worn leather volume in Fielding's outstretched hand.

  "Did you find this book interesting, Lady Devlin? Frightening perhaps?"

  "I'm not familiar with that book. Mr. Hodges," she nodded toward Lennie, "gave it to me last night when I went to check on Margaret. But I never opened it."

  "Too bad," the detective said. "If you'd read it, you might not have put yourself into such a dangerous situation."

  Elizabeth's stomach twisted. What did the runners know? Because of her visit to Margaret, they kn
ew she had been up in the middle of the night. And the mistake she'd made in the stable when she'd thought it was Jimmy who'd been killed would lead them to question the boy, if they hadn't already. They'd know she'd visited the stables looking for her husband and that he and his stallion had been gone. If Jimmy had still been waiting up when Nicholas returned, her husband would be in the clear. But from the way the detective was behaving, Elizabeth could guess that had not been the case. Had old Grubner sent the boy to bed and waited to tend to the stallion himself?

  At the castle last night she'd recognized Lennie by his footman's livery, but it'd been too dark to see his face. Could he have seen hers? Or perhaps recognized her voice? Elizabeth's mind raced, trying to remember if she'd revealed herself in some damning way. She needed to speak to Nicholas, needed to know what she should and shouldn't say to these men. She glanced at the door again.

  "Did you have a chance to read the title, Lady Devlin, before you went out to the stables searching for your husband?"

  "No," Elizabeth said. There was no point in denying she'd been in the stables. Jimmy could confirm it.

  "Vampires of Northern Europe." Detective Fielding paused as if expecting some reaction from her. When he got none, he opened the book and poked a finger at the fading print on one yellowed page. He read aloud.

  "These creatures of darkness, so oft misunderstood, differ in only subtle ways from their brothers of the daylight. Whilst they must and do feed on the blood of others, the quantities they require are small and not missed by the humans who sustain them."

  The detective snapped the book shut causing Elizabeth, who'd been leaning forward, to startle back. "I think Grubner and Margaret would disagree with the author, don't you?"

  "Vampires? At Heaven's Edge?" Elizabeth was pleased with the incredulous tone she achieved. If Detective Fielding wanted to play games, then play games they would. "What a fanciful notion for a man in your line of work. Shall we have the woods searched for werewolves as well? And ghosts. Surely in a place as old as this there must be at least one or two decent ghosts."