Dark Hero; A Gothic Romance (Reluctant Heroes)

by Silver, Lily

  “These are our people; the O’Flahertys and many other clans who looked to the Druids for guidance throughout the ages. You are their link to the physical world. They will not hurt you. As high priestess, you have the power to call them forth, to use their power and combine it with your own when the need arises. In ancient times, during battles, Druid priests stood near the battlefield, chanting and calling forth the power of the ancestors to help vanquish the enemy.”

  As he spoke, faces materialized from the swirling mists. Elizabeth studied each face as it hovered before her briefly, like courtesans bowing before her and passing by. Men, women, young and old; Warriors, both men and the brave women who fought beside them in ages past.

  “Elizabeth!” A familiar voice called from a great distance. Elizabeth gasped, and was suddenly hurtled through a freezing void of sooty, black mist.

  She sank forward, her head in her lap, gasping and choking, as she let go of Kieran’s hand. The world spun about her, but it was brilliant world of sunshine and warmth.

  “Elizabeth!” Donovan was kneeling in front of her, his face livid. He looked as if he wanted to kill someone—and that someone was sitting next to her.

  Kieran was gasping as well. He looked like he might choke to death on his own. He put his arm about her protectively and looked into that angry visage before them.

  “What the hell is this?” Donovan demanded. “What are you doing to her?”

  “It’s fine—“ Elizabeth gasped. The world was spinning erratically beneath her.

  “We—“ Kieran coughed. “I was showing her how to—how to—meditate—my lord—“

  “Like hell you were.” Donovan crouched in front of Elizabeth. He touched her cheek, and studied her face intently. “Lizzie, are you all right?” He stroked her arm and then slipped his arm about her shoulder protectively. He turned his face to Kieran, who was still recovering from their abrupt retrieval. “She was terrified.”

  “I’m just a little dizzy.” In truth, she was relieved by Donovan’s presence, relieved to be back in the sunshine instead of in the spiritual catacombs. “He’s teaching me how to control my gift so I am not overcome by random visions like the one I had with Linton.”

  That brought Donovan’s attention back to her. He gazed at her with sympathy.

  “That was most unpleasant.” She reminded him.

  “Yes, it was.” Kieran agreed beside her.

  Elizabeth turned to her brother. He saw that, too?

  This was becoming quite disturbing.

  *******

  “I’ll ask again, what were you doing to her?” Donovan insisted hours later, when he’d effectively removed Elizabeth from Kieran’s presence. “Out with it, man.”

  O’Flaherty did not answer. He sat with his lips clamped tight. They were in Kieran’s room, upstairs. It had taken all of Donovan’s strength not to throttle him in the garden earlier. The horrified look on his wife’s face was one he hoped to never see again.

  Lizzie was in Donovan’s suite, quite exhausted and pale. She kept insisting she was fine, but she had that haunted look in her eye that worried Donovan and made him furious with the man responsible. And she kept shivering, from fear, he gathered, as she hadn’t a fever.

  Donovan paced the room, his fists tight, his fury rising. “I told you she was frail. I told you she is recovering from a very serious illness. She’ll claim she’s fine, but people with severe head injuries don’t realize anything is wrong with them. They don’t feel any different.”

  He turned, glared at the man, and stalked closer. “Do you have any idea what might have happened out there if I hadn’t arrived when I did? She could have succumbed to another grand mal seizure. She had a brutal one ten days ago, and then she slept as if she were dead for six hours after. I thought she would be dead by the end of that day. She cannot be upset or agitated. I told you—Damn you—I warned you. Now tell me what the hell you were doing to my wife.”

  O’Flaherty wilted in the face of his fury, a small recompense for the outrage in his heart, and the terror behind that outrage. He could not lose Elizabeth. He would do anything to protect her, even from her doltish, wizard of a brother.

  The man sat forward in the chair, his arms about himself as if he suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. Donovan half expected the man to disappear into thin air and good riddance.

  “I didn’t think of that, my lord.” O’Flaherty murmured. His face had a fallen cast. “I’m sorry, I forgot about her seizures. I-I didn’t think. I was just trying to teach her our ways.”

  *******

  At dinner that evening, Kieran announced he had to leave the next morning to return to his employer. Barnaby was old and depended on him for a great many things.

  Elizabeth was saddened by his announcement. She was enjoying his company, for the most part—today’s incident aside. And she’d hoped he’d stay on indefinitely. She looked to Donovan, hoping he’d raise a polite objection, but his features remained stony. She looked to Kieran again, hoping for an explanation, but her brother seemed to find the contents of his plate fascinating and did not meet her eyes for the rest of the meal.

  Kieran departed the next morning. He promised to visit often and reminded Elizabeth he was just fifteen miles away, across the bay in Basseterre if she needed him. Donovan shook his hand and bade him a polite farewell. Elizabeth could not shake the impression that the men had quarreled after their interlude in the garden and Kieran had been asked to leave.

  It bothered her, but she decided to let it go for now. Perhaps Donovan was justified in his concern. She had been frightened yesterday, much more than she cared to admit. Perhaps he was being silly or jealous of her time with Kieran. At any rate, she did not wish to argue with him about it. She’d let a few days go by, give his ire a chance to wane and then address the issue.

  *******

  Later that same afternoon, Donovan’s eyes were aglow with intrigue as he lifted her into the canopied curricle and climbed up beside her.

  Lush jungle vegetation gave way to a sea of waving green as he guided their carriage along a low road skirting cane fields on the eastern edge of the island. The breeze was crisp and demanding on the windward side of the island, refreshing on such a hot day. Elizabeth clutched her hat to hold it fast. Even with the hairpin, it threatened to float away as the lively winds buffeted through the light straw weave.

  They passed a windmill poised to catch the strong breezes coming off the sea. Rough scaffolding hugged the front of it. Squinting in the brilliant sunlight, Elizabeth could make out the figures on the top of the platform who worked busily to repair one of the damaged blades.

  There were several low buildings nearby. An array of large copper vats with a series of pipes connecting them were being set up near the mill in preparation for the coming harvest.

  After the juice was pressed from the cane stalks under the wind powered grinding stone, the series of troughs delivered the liquid to the copper vats. Once there, the juice was boiled until only fine granules remained. The granules had to be pressed into clay cones for shipment to England, where it would be further refined and then sold exclusively on the English market. It was short harvest season, a matter of weeks. It was a labor intensive process requiring every able man’s efforts through the long days, Donovan explained as they moved past the mill.

  The view of the sea was blocked by lush foliage on either side of the road as the landscape gave way to a thick jungle. Donovan brought the carriage up short at the end of an interior road. He secured the horses to a nearby tree, and then helped Elizabeth down. As soon as her feet were on the ground, he kissed her thoroughly and then held her against him for several moments before releasing her and taking her hand to lead her up the trail.

  The path was narrow, hemmed in by thick foliage on both sides and straggling branches.

  “That’s unusual.” He remarked, examining branches and large leaves that had been snapped off along the trail to the interior jungle. “Someone else h
as been here not too long ago. I expected to have to hack our way through the brush.”

  It was then that Elizabeth noted he had a machete clasped in his free hand, and a brace of pistols beneath his vest. Couldn’t the man relax for a moment and let down his guard?

  He stopped at the crest of a steep incline, giving her a chance to catch her breath. As if having read her thoughts about his inability to relax and enjoy the day, he once more took her into his arms, although he didn’t try to kiss her as she was nearly panting from the exertion. He just held her against him and gazed down at her with unveiled adoration. “It’s not much farther, my sweet. I could carry you, if you like.”

  “No. Don’t be ridiculous. This is what comes of making me stay in bed to rest all day. I used to go out walking in the woods all the time in England.”

  “Alone. It’s not proper for woman of your station to do so now. Your grandmother allowed you far too much freedom as a girl.”

  She made a face at him. “Nothing happened to me in the woods.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that it could have.” He returned. “Come.”

  He helped her down the steep embankment. They continued on the path for several moments. Elizabeth admired the lush foliage and the exotic thrills of birdsong as she allowed him to lead her deeper into the jungle.

  A sudden movement ahead of them made her cry out. A snake meandered across the path before them. It was well over six feet long, just as Peter faithfully reported. Donovan stood still, the machete held out, watching the serpent with wariness. It lingered, lifting its head as it gazed at them for what seemed an eternity before slithering away into the safety of the jungle brush.

  As she watched it, a cold fear surrounded her, a sense of foreboding.

  “Come. He’s gone, he’ll find a fat rabbit or two and then sleep away the afternoon.”

  “No.” Elizabeth gasped, that uneasy feeling only growing at his insistence that they continue deeper into the snake’s lair. “Serpent’s are messengers from the underworld.” She said without thinking. “They are the harbingers of death.”

  “Lizzie.” He shook his head and gestured about them with the blade. “This area is populated by indigenous snakes; it doesn’t make it an evil place. Snakes are useful. Like cats, they eat rodents. Come.” He tugged at her hand.

  After studying her grandmother’s book, she knew a snake crossing her path was an omen that spirits from the underworld were near. Donovan didn’t believe in the ways of their Celtic ancestors, and he obviously thought her silly for being uneasy.

  They stopped at a translucent pool fed by a small waterfall at the opposite end. Lush vegetation and flowers hugged the rocks about the waterfall, and a fine mist of spray added to the mystique of the place. Moss covered rocks jutted out to the right, and the trilling of wild birds complemented the serene music of the flowing falls.

  “This was one of my favorite places to loll away the afternoon as a boy.” Donovan told her with a smile. “I came to visit my grandfather for a couple of months every spring. Gareth and I used to slide over the falls and let the current carry us to the opposite edge of the pool.”

  It was breathtaking, and yet Elizabeth could not dismiss the eerie sensation in the pit of her belly since encountering that enormous snake. She gazed about, trying to relax and enjoy the outing as Donovan intended. She gasped as she looked out at the jungle beyond the pool. Three figures were watching them from across the sparkling pool. They stood beside a mossy rock.

  “What is it?” Donovan slipped his arm about her, drawing her close as he followed her startled gaze. “What frightens you so?”

  “Those men, they’re watching us.”

  He shoved her behind him. A cocked pistol was instantly in front of him. He squinted, holding the arm gripping his machete up to block the shimmer of sunlight from the falls. “I don’t see them. They must have slipped back into the thick jungle growth.”

  “You can’t see them?” She whispered frantically, peering around him. “Donovan, they’re standing right there.” She pointed. “Beside the waterfall, next to that big pointy stone.”

  He stared determinedly at the spot directly across the pool. When he turned to her, his face was stricken. “I don’t see them. You said there were three men?”

  Elizabeth held her tongue, remembering his rebuke regarding the snake.

  “Lizzie, talk to me. Tell me what it is you see.” His tone had changed, from disdain to alarm. He clutched her shoulders. “We’ve been looking for the three missing indentures for weeks. We assumed they found a way off the island somehow. If you see them now and I cannot, it can only mean one thing.”

  “You don’t believe in ‘ghosts and spirits and all that metaphysical’ horse crap’. I heard you telling Pearl so on the ship.”

  “I’ve become a little more open minded about the spirit world since then.” He placed his pistol back in his belt and took her hand. “Tell me what you see now. Are they speaking to you? What do they look like?”

  “They’re wearing dirty work clothes. They are barefoot, and they’re wearing leg irons.” She said. “They’ve been hurt. One looks as if his face was beaten in. His forehead is open.” She made a face. She could see inside his skull, it was dark grey and shiny. “There’s a very large gash.” She brushed her own brow to indicate the spot.

  The spirit closest to them beckoned for her to follow him. She walked around the pool, toward the three men waiting at the jagged, mossy stone. Donovan followed, keeping a hold of her arm. He had the machete gripped firmly in his sword hand.

  The spirits glided ahead for several paces, and then melted into the ground behind a huge boulder adjacent to the waterfall. Elizabeth followed them to the spot, and crouched on the ground, letting her palm rest on the freshly disturbed earth.

  She listened and then repeated to Donovan what the spirits told her.

  “Mr. Crowley had been ill for days. The overseer accused him of lying to get out of work. He demanded Mr. Crowley get up out of his bunk and go outside to the lineup to go out to the fields. When he didn’t the overseer hit him with his cudgel. He kept hitting him on the back and when Mr. Crowley still didn’t get up, he whacked him on the forehead with it. When the two men sharing his hut returned from the fields they found him dead. The overseer denied their accusation, saying one of them had to be the killer, as he’d left the man alive that morning.”

  “Damn Winslow.” Donovan swore. “I knew he had a brutal streak. I warned him many times to restrain himself. What happened to the other two?”

  “Mr. Winslow ordered the two men tied to the posts in the prison yard. He sent the guards away. He whipped them without mercy, saying the punishment would go on until one of them confessed to killing Crowley. He was drunk. He beat them to death, and when he realized what he’d done, he dragged their bodies here and buried them.”

  “Lizzie.” Donovan grasped her by the shoulders. “Sweetheart, let’s get you back to the house. I’ll come back with Ambrose and some of the guards from the compound to see what we can find.” He helped her to her feet, and dragged his heel through the dirt where she had been squatting to mark it with a deep X.

  The ride back to the estate was solemn. Both of them knew the only way to prove that what she claimed was to dig to find the bodies.

  “You do believe me?” She prodded when they reached the stable yard.

  Pulling the carriage to a halt, Donovan turned to her. “Lizzie, when you were very ill on the ship, you told Pearl things about his mother in India, you gave him accurate messages from the woman--and she’s dead. You spoke to Captain Rawlings’ deceased fiancée and gave Jack and I detailed information about how she died. You gave Jack a message from her. You couldn’t have known any of that, Sweet Lizzie, not unless Miss Pemberly told you how she died.”

  “I don’t remember it.” Elizabeth said with bewilderment.

  “You were right about Linton.” He added. “And you found Marissa’s hidden papers.”


  “And I was right about the snake.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Giles was waiting for them at the back door, his face lit up with undisguised glee as he told them her grandfather and brother had just arrived and were awaiting them in the salon. Elizabeth could hardly believe his report as she rushed to the salon upon entering the house.

  Donovan followed, looking vastly displeased at the idea of guests invading his home.

  “Liz!” Michael met her at the door of the salon, lifting her in his arms and whirling her about with unfettered exuberance. “I say, you’re light as a feather, doesn’t his lordship feed you? I can wrap my arms about you twice.”

  “Only when I’m good and as you know I rarely am.” She said, hugging him. “Oh, Michael, I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “Don’t be a goose. There was only an ocean between us!” He laughed, hugging her just as tightly. “Grandfather was determined to spend Christmas with both of us this year.” He turned, gesturing to the thin, elderly man observing them as he leaned on his cane.

  “My dear child.” The old man moved quickly across the tile flooring to embrace her. “I’m so relieved to see you, Elizabeth.” He whispered, hugging her with more emotion then she’d ever thought the proud old man capable of. When she was a girl, he seemed so autocratic and imposing, sending everyone in the household, including their mother, scurrying nervously about to do his bidding. He seemed frail now. His skin was papery thin, his complexion pasty. Even his voice sounded withered and tired. She shot a glance in her husband’s direction, longing to share her concerns with him.

  Donovan had an impassive look on his face, a polite, well bred blank. His eyes locked briefly with hers, and his impatience was all too clear. He needed to attend this ghastly murder business. She nodded her understanding to him, yet he lingered at the foot of the stairs.

  “I situated Lord Greystowe in the blue room, my lady.” Giles informed her, breaking the tension. “And Master Michael is in the green room, the one you appointed for him earlier.”