Blood Marriage

by Regina Richards

  Across the room one corner of Bergen's mouth twitched.

  "Not a true vampire, of course." The detective's solicitous attitude was gone; his voice was now as hard as his eyes. "For over four months we've been tracking a criminal who appears charming and quite normal, but is in fact a madman who uses the disgusting guise of vampirism to murder his victims. Is that the sort of man you wish to share a…roof with, Lady Devlin?"

  Elizabeth licked her lips. She did not, would not, believe Nicholas was a killer. If these lawmen had accused anyone else of such crimes, even the Duke of Marlbourne himself, she'd have felt bound to tell them all that had gone on last night. But she would say nothing that might put her husband under suspicion.

  Nicholas had not been the only one to leave the house last night. Leo and Amanda had been out. Lucy and her mysterious companion had also left, as had the duke. And, judging by the welts, scratches and bruises on every man in the room save Detective Fielding and Dr. Bergen, so had many others. Her eyes strayed to Randall.

  No, her husband wasn't the only suspect.

  Elizabeth rearranged her skirts, trying not to think of the puncture wounds concealed beneath, or of how suspiciously similar they were to the ones on Margaret and, from what she'd overheard in the stable, on Grubner as well. There had to be another explanation. It wasn't Nicholas. It couldn't be. Detective Fielding was watching her too closely, causing Elizabeth to feel suddenly hot and cold at once.

  "Your wedding ring is a ruby, isn't it, Lady Devlin? And not just any ruby, a blood ruby." The detective lifted Elizabeth's hand. The ruby glittered in the morning light. When she pulled her hand away, the detective began flipping through the book again.

  "Let's see. Yes, here it is." He traced a finger down the page as he read. "Throughout the world there are many different clans or sects of vampire folk, each with its own culture and traditions, its own gifts and weaknesses. Even among European vampires there are a multitude of different groups. These clans are so closed, so secretive, that occasionally they intermingle in the non-vampire world without even realizing they are doing so.

  Centuries ago great feuds would erupt between groups, often over a misunderstanding or unintended slight. Both vampire and non-vampire alike suffered in these bloody confrontations. One cause of such feuds was the accepted practice in certain clans of vampires taking human females for brides. This was probably done to serve financial, social, or reproductive needs."

  Fielding glanced at Elizabeth. She kept her expression neutral. Fielding carefully turned a fragile page and read on.

  "Imagine the anger of a vampire who learns a member of another clan has dined on his wife, mistress, or other beloved human. Or worse, administered the three unique bites necessary to change the human consort into a vampire, effectively stealing the consort from the original vampire clan by making her a member of another. Probably as a way to prevent wars from breaking out between clans, over time vampires developed a tradition of marking their human consorts with blood rubies."

  The detective coughed discretely into one hand. He directed a half-smile at Elizabeth, then dropped his eyes significantly to her hand. Elizabeth imagined the ruby glittering like a bloodstain against the dove gray of her dress. She willed herself not to cover her wedding ring with her hand, or even look at it. All eyes in the room were on her, gauging her reaction. She returned the detective's half-smile with an insipid smile of her own. He cleared his throat.

  "Let's see now, where was I? Ah, yes, here. A human bride might wear a blood red wedding ring, a mistress a necklace or bracelet. Perhaps a ruby stickpin would become part of the daily uniform of an old family retainer. The wearers might or might not be told the significance of the jewelry, depending on whether they were privy to their master's true nature." Fielding paused as if to catch his breath.

  Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from scanning the room, searching for gems. Randall wore none. Dr. Bergen caught her eye and gave her a mocking look as he held up bare fingers for her inspection. The only ruby in the room, besides her own, was the one gleaming like fresh blood in the pinky ring on Leo's hand. He was staring at it himself, along with the rest of the room. He shook his head.

  "Nonsense," Leo said. "A gift from a friend, but not a vampire friend I assure you."

  Fielding read on. "Do not be fooled. Everyone who wears a ruby in a vampire's household is not human. In the last several hundred years, the wearing of blood rubies has become popular among vampires themselves. Thus there is no guarantee that the family retainer with the ruby stickpin is human. He may be as much a vampire as his master. Still the message of the ruby is the same. It warns off others of their kind, letting them know the wearer is not fair game."

  Unbidden, a vision of the strange wedding in the chapel at Maidenstone filled Elizabeth's mind. She saw clearly that moment at the end of the ceremony when Nicholas had turned her to face the cloaked and cowled guests and held her hand high, displaying the ruby to all those present. She remembered their low murmur of ascent before they'd left the church in silence. Once again Fielding snapped the leather book closed. Wrenched from her frightening memory, Elizabeth made a small cry of distress.

  "Poorly done, detective," Bergen said quietly. "It isn't necessary to frighten her like that."

  Fielding changed the subject abruptly.

  "Did you leave Heaven's Edge last night, Lady Devlin? When Jimmy met you in the stable and told you your husband had left on his stallion, did you follow him into the woods?" Fielding held up a cautionary hand. "Think before you answer. Lennie followed a cloaked figure to the castle ruins last night. Later he had, er, reason to find himself beneath the moat bridge. A woman was standing on the bridge above him. Were you that woman, Lady Devlin?"

  "Detective Fielding, that is outside of enough!" Leo sat forward in his chair. "Neither Lord Devlin nor his father, the duke, will be pleased with your--"

  "Do you own a blue dress with white lace at the hem, Lady Devlin?" The detective was leaning in too close, his voice overloud.

  Elizabeth's mind spun. She'd told Jimmy she was returning to the house. Had he seen her go into the forest instead? What had he told the runners? The man in the doorway of the castle last night, wearing the duke's livery, had been Lennie. He'd fired on the creatures pursuing her and probably saved her life. Had he also seen her face? She'd never worn that blue dress before last night so the only persons who knew she'd owned such a garment were Katie, who'd unpacked it, and her husband, who'd purchased it. If she answered yes, how would she explain that it was gone -- nothing but ashes in her bedroom fireplace? If she said no, would they be able to prove she was lying and would that hurt Nicholas?

  "Well?" Fielding pressed.

  Elizabeth stood and crossed the room to the bell pull. Lennie was there before her, cutting her off. She gave him her best imitation of one of the Countess of Glenbury's imperious glares. It worked. He hesitated long enough for her to step past him and give the bell cord a tug. She heard its faint clang in the hall outside as she faced the men.

  "I have been a bride for such a short time, perhaps I'll feel differently in twenty years." She gave Detective Fielding an apologetic look. "But for now, I desire to please both my husband and my new father-in-law. So I'll take Leo's advice and allow these questions to wait. In the meantime, I suggest we all," she included the runners in her invitation with a smile, "have breakfast."

  The twitch returned to Bergen's lips.

  The library door opened and Vlad entered. His face was solemn, his hands clasped over his round belly above stained and rumpled clerical skirts. What little hair he had was disturbed from its usual white halo, as if he had gotten out of bed in such a rush that he'd had no time to comb it.

  "The runners have gathered the servants in the ballroom to question them. We are on our own for a while," he said. "Most of the staff will be leaving us as soon as the runners release them. I retained as many as I could."

  Elizabeth didn't miss the fleeting expression of satisfactio
n that passed over Fielding's face. With no servants to cook or serve breakfast, it seemed her attempt at distracting him from his questions had failed. All the men's eyes were on her. She smiled her best hostess smile.

  "Then we'll simply fend for ourselves." She walked to the door.

  Lennie looked at Fielding as if asking if he wanted her stopped. The answer must have been no, because the runner stepped aside.

  "I'll prepare something," she said. "You may all meet me in the breakfast parlor in twenty minutes."

  "You cook?" Leo looked startled, the other men interested.

  It was an unusual talent for a woman of her class. But long before the countess had offered her a position, Elizabeth's family had been in reduced financial circumstances. She'd learned to cook out of necessity. She could have explained that, but it seemed wiser to get out of the room and away from the detective's inquiries as quickly as she could, so she just nodded. Detective Fielding rose from the sofa.

  "I don't cook," he said, "but I make a credible cup of tea."

  Elizabeth frowned. The firm set of Detective Fielding's jaw told her he wasn't going to let her escape him so easily. "The duke asked that the gentlemen await him here in the library," she said.

  "Surely His Grace will want breakfast as well?" Fielding was looking at Vlad.

  Elizabeth's eyes flicked to the priest, hoping to find support to escape the runner's company, but Vlad didn't look at her. He smoothed a hand over his bald head and nodded distractedly, mumbling, "Yes, I will speak with him," as he left the room.

  Fielding's smile was victorious, but his voice coaxing. "It isn't every day a future duchess cooks a meal for a man of my station. I'd like to be there."

  The other men rose as if in agreement. Lennie held the door open. Elizabeth suppressed a sigh of frustration and swept out into the hall, leading the way to the kitchen, a trail of curious and hungry gentlemen following in her wake.

  Chapter Thirty

  Elizabeth was relieved to find the fires had already been set and hot coals still glowed in both the modern stoves. In the adjacent dining area used by the household servants, dirty dishes and half-filled glasses marked a breakfast that'd been deserted. Most of the staff had probably been finishing their meal when they'd received the news of Grubner's death.

  Elizabeth took an apron from a peg on the wall. To her surprise Lennie did the same. Fielding found a kettle near the stove and shook it gently, checking the water level. Satisfied, he set the kettle on to boil.

  It was Bergen who rummaged through the larder and produced eggs, a long string of sausages, and a slab of bacon. He handed them to Elizabeth, then found a place on a stool out of the way, apparently feeling he'd made his contribution to the coming meal. Randall took a seat nearby, still nursing the brandy he'd brought with him from the library. Leo began pulling plates and cups from a cupboard and setting them on a tray.

  To Elizabeth's relief, Fielding seemed content to watch her boil sausages and fry bacon and eggs, leaving off questioning her for a while. When the kettle whistled, he warmed a teapot Leo had set out, then made tea. Leo left the room to carry the tea tray into the breakfast parlor. Randall tossed back his remaining brandy and picked up the tray Leo had loaded with plates, cups and silverware, and followed him out.

  Lennie had been cutting bread and toasting it in the fireplace. Huge piles of warm slices were stacked on a platter atop a warming mantle. Now he set out a separate tray with a cup and plate. He brought the plate to Elizabeth as the first of the eggs and bacon came out of the pan. She filled it for him. He leaned in close to his boss and Elizabeth heard him say "Margaret." Fielding pulled a smaller teapot from a shelf and filled it as he had the larger before setting it on the tray. When Lennie left the room with the tray, Elizabeth could have sworn she saw a softening in the detective's eyes. She didn't bother to tell either of the lawmen that Katie had probably already taken a tray to Margaret, since in truth she was glad to see the burly runner go, if only for a short time.

  Unfortunately, the fact that the kitchen was empty now save for Bergen, the detective, and herself, seemed to give Fielding the itch to begin his inquiries again.

  "About that dress..." Fielding began.

  "Yes, we definitely need to do something about the dress," Bergen interrupted. He left his stool to stand behind Elizabeth while she turned bacon in the pan, positioning himself to create a barrier between Elizabeth and the detective, making further questions difficult. Elizabeth threw a grateful smile over her shoulder at the doctor as his fingers moved up her spine deftly buttoning her dress.

  "Get your hands off my wife, Bergen." Nicholas sounded more tired than angry as he stepped into the room. Bergen left the top few buttons unfinished and headed for the door.

  "Hands off another man's woman?" Bergen said as he brushed past Nicholas. "Good advice, Nick. For all of us."

  Regret and compassion played across Nicholas's face as he watched the doctor leave the room, but it was gone when he turned to the detective.

  "I'd like to speak with my wife alone," Nicholas said.

  Fielding's jaw hardened and Elizabeth thought he might refuse, but perhaps the expression on Nicholas's face made him reconsider because he forced a smile. "I'll have to question her," the detective said.

  "After breakfast," Nicholas agreed.

  Elizabeth dumped the last of the bacon onto a platter beside the eggs and boiled sausages. Nicholas took Bergen's place behind Elizabeth and finished buttoning her dress while Fielding set the platter on a tray, fussing with the toast and other items for longer than necessary, delaying. Finally, he took the tray and left the room.

  Immediately Nicholas whirled Elizabeth around and kissed her hard on the mouth, then held her a little away from him, his blue eyes serious.

  "Listen carefully. I need for you to trust me, and obey me. Can you do that?"

  "Yes, of course," Elizabeth said. The taste of him lingered on her lips and she wanted to press herself against him. Instead she looked steadily into his eyes.

  "It's possible I'll be arrested. If not today, then soon. If that happens, I'll be taken to London to stand trial."

  Elizabeth shook her head. Nicholas's hands tightened on her shoulders.

  "Listen. We haven't much time. You must not follow me to London. Do you understand? You must leave here and tell no one. No one. Not a servant, not Amanda, not even my father. Tell no one that you're leaving or where you're going. When you get somewhere safe, send your direction to Mrs. Huntington at her house in London. Then wait for me. I'll come as soon as I can. There's money for you upstairs in--"

  "The ladies have come down for breakfast. I'll be making more toast," Lennie said from the doorway. "Fielding needs you in the breakfast parlor, your lordship. Your missus can stay with me. We'll need more eggs."

  Though Lennie watched, Nicholas kissed Elizabeth once more, tenderly, holding her as if he might never see her again. Then he left the room. Lennie stared after him for several long seconds.

  "I'll get more eggs and bacon," Elizabeth said. Her knees felt weak and her hands were shaking. Nicholas might be arrested. The words whirled through her mind, making her want to run after him, cling to him. She took a breath and forced herself to concentrate on what was important in this moment, avoiding the runner's questions. The best way to do that was to keep cooking.

  She walked to the larder and opened its heavy door. She would need enough food to feed Mrs. Blakely, Harriet, Lucy, the countess and Amanda. She began to pull items from the shelf and set them in the sling she made by gathering the corners of her apron. One wall of the larder adjoined Cook's bedroom. Through it she could hear the anguished sobs of the old woman.

  Suddenly Elizabeth felt ashamed. In her relief that the victim hadn't been Jimmy, in her concern for her husband and agitation over the runner's questions, with all that had been going on that morning, she'd forgotten for a time that a real man, someone's relative, someone's friend, had died last night. From the look on the duke's fac
e when he'd knelt next to his stable master's body, Karl Grubner had been a loved and valued member of this household. One she had never known and now never would.

  "Come away from there, ma'am." Lennie had followed her into the larder. He shook his head at the sounds of grief. "It's an unhappy business," he said, and they both returned to the kitchen. Lennie toasted bread and Elizabeth fried more eggs and bacon. They worked in silence for a time. When Lennie finally spoke, his voice was deep and low. The sound seemed to roll ominously around the room, coming at Elizabeth from every angle, creeping over her, the words winding themselves around her.

  "There were seven bodies found in London," he said. "Six women and a hackney driver in the park." He tossed a piece of golden toast on the warming mantle and picked up another slice of bread. "With Grubner that makes eight dead and just one, Margaret, that survived. All of them the same, pale and bloodless bodies with two puncture wounds to the neck. One of the women, a girl who worked in one of the shops where your husband bought your clothes, had her neck broken as well. Younger. Stronger. Probably fought harder than the others."

  Elizabeth looked down at the dove-gray dress she wore. The expert stitching and exceptional quality of the fabric marked it as a work of the finest modiste. Had the girl whose neck had been broken worked on this dress, sewn it with her own hands? Elizabeth turned the bacon in the pan, wishing she could block out the sound of Lennie's voice.

  "Had a lot to live for that one. Was getting married in a few week’s time. Her man took it hard when he got the news."

  The last of the eggs were ready. Elizabeth transferred them to a platter, willing the bacon to cook faster so that she could escape Lennie and his tales of death and sorrow. Nicholas wasn't responsible. It was a coincidence the dead girl had worked in one of the shops he'd visited. That was all. A coincidence.