The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque, Meara Platt, Scarlett Scott, Mary Lancaster, Maggi Andersen, Chasity Bowlin, Sydney Jane Baily, Violetta Rand

  He seemed to be listening with interest. “It cost you your parents, for certain.”

  She sighed heavily. “It cost me more than that,” she said. “I found out after the accident that my father had been heavily in debt due to some poor business decisions. The house was sold to pay off the creditors. My fine things were auctioned. We used to have some wealth, or at least I thought we did, but I found out otherwise after my parents’ death. You see, I am educated. I had fine tutors. I can play the piano quite well because my father wanted me to be musical. I am a well-bred young woman who now seeks positions as a maid because those are my only opportunities. No man wants a wife who is… destitute.”

  Since it was dark, she didn’t mention anything about the damage done by the fire to her physical appearance. If he couldn’t see it, she didn’t want him to know. She watched him as he moved from the hearth over to a chair and sat heavily.

  “You are wrong when you said I did not understand the guilt experienced because of petty demands,” he muttered. “Do you know why my carriage overturned? Because I was trying to scare Eulalie into accepting my marriage demand. I was driving recklessly and wildly, and we were laughing because she was screaming with both terror and the thrill of it. I took a turn too sharply and the carriage flipped over. Her neck was broken but I did not find out until days later when I awoke from my unconscious state.”

  “Then I am sorry for you.”

  “As I am sorry for you. It seems, Miss Emma Fairweather, that you and I have something in common. We have both experienced similar tragedies.”

  That was a very true statement. Emma felt some kinship to the bitter young lord as well as a good deal of pity for him.

  “Indeed,” she said. “And we now lead lives that we never thought we would lead. At least, that is true for me.”

  “And you do not wish that you were dead at times? Or am I the only one?”

  Emma had wished such a thing. That was the sad part; she had wished for death at times and she found she couldn’t completely lie to him, for now seemed like a moment for truth.

  “You are not the only one,” she said softly. “But there is something in me that refuses to give up. I am not sure why that is, considering I have lost everything, but a part of me hopes for a better future. Perhaps there will be a better future for me someday.”

  “Working as a maid?”

  She sighed thoughtfully. “Hopefully, that will not be forever. Perhaps I can earn enough money to have a little cottage in the country someday. I have to hope that there is something better for me in the future. If I do not believe that, then I will lose all hope, as you have.”

  He shifted in his chair. “I am beyond help,” he said. “I wish I had the same optimism.”

  “But why not?” she asked. “You have a beautiful home and lands. Surely you can restore Blackmoor Hall to its former glory. There is always hope for a better future, my lord. I suppose… I suppose we must all find it in our own way.”

  “Possibly,” he said, but he sounded as if didn’t believe it. “Tell me, Miss Emma – if your life had not turned out so, what would you have wished it to be? To marry this young man that Julia Stepney stole from you?”

  Emma didn’t usually like to think of the life she once believed she would have, but Asher had her pondering that very thing. He had her pondering everything she didn’t like to recall, exploring it as if she’d never done so before. But she had, too many times.

  “I suppose so,” she said after a moment. “He was from a fine family. His father was a banker and he would be a banker, too.”

  “Bloody hell,” Asher grunted. “Did you have no more ambition than to live a painfully boring life with a banker? I’ve known those chaps my entire life. As bland as milk toast, they are.”

  She couldn’t decide if she was insulted or amused. “Is that so?” she said. “And what about you? What did you intend to do with your future?”

  “Not live it with a banker.”

  “Then what?”

  In the darkness, he shifted in his chair. “I was going to waste it on gambling and women,” he said. “There is no finer destiny for a man.”

  She could sense he was jesting and she fought off a grin because he was being rather petulant about it. “Gambling and women?” she repeated. “I can think of a finer destiny.”

  “Silly wench. What do you know?”

  “I know enough to be quite aware that any destiny is better than gambling and strumpets.”

  “Name one!”

  “A banker!”

  “Pah,” he said, sensing the humor in the air. “You do not know what an exciting destiny is if you think being a banker is the best thing for a man. I come from a long line of military men; that would be more exciting.”

  “Then why did you not pursue that career?”

  “I could have,” he said proudly. “I attended the Royal Military Academy.”

  “You did?” Emma was properly awed. “That is most prestigious.”

  “Of course it is,” he said. “The House of de Russe has been known in military circles since the time of the Duke of Normandy. As I mentioned, my father was the first in the male line to stray from that vocation, but my grandfather insisted I follow the family tradition.”

  “I am sure you excelled.”

  “They expelled me.”

  Emma couldn’t help it; she giggled, quickly covering her mouth. “I see,” she said, trying not to let on that she was laughing at him. “And what brought that about?”

  “Something about not taking my studies seriously.”

  “Surely it was more than that?”

  He grunted, seemingly unwilling to speak on it, but out it came nonetheless. “There was an instructor who took a dislike to me,” he said with disgust. “How anyone could dislike me, I do not know, but he did. He had the habit of dozing through recitation and farting something fierce so, one afternoon, I ignited his gas with a bit of flame from the stove.”

  Emma was genuinely trying not to laugh out loud. “Good heavens,” she said. “What happened?”

  “I burned down half the room.”

  “No!”

  “It was the old instructor’s fault, not mine,” he insisted, refusing to take responsibility for his boyish prank. “The man farted too much. How was I to know it would ignite his trousers? When he jumped out of his chair, he ended up igniting the papers on his table, and then the table itself. And they had the gall to expel me for it.”

  Emma closed her eyes as she snorted at the mental picture of a faceless man with his pants on fire. “Shocking,” she said as if in complete agreement with him. “It was their loss.”

  “It most certainly was.” Asher fell silent a moment. “It is good to hear a laugh. I have not heard a laugh in years, Miss Emma. Thank you for that gift.”

  The mood of the room went from amused, jovial even, to oddly poignant. The laughter faded, but the smile was still on her lips. She hadn’t felt this light of heart in years, as strange as the circumstances were. In a place like Blackmoor, one would not have expected it.

  “And thank you for giving me a reason to laugh,” she said quietly. “I’ve not had a reason to in quite some time.”

  “I am glad you came to Blackmoor.”

  “That is kind.”

  “Where will you go tomorrow?”

  Emma’s smile faded. “I am not sure,” she said. “Back to Easingwold, I suppose. I have no money and I have no home, so I must find a position. The coachman who directed me to Blackmoor told me of another place – Fangdale Hall – where they also might need servants.”

  She could see his hand wave in the darkness. “Not Fangdale,” he said flatly. “That is a wicked place. You do not want to go there.”

  “But the coachman said…”

  “They need servants because theirs either die or run off. Fangdale is cursed, Miss Emma. That is no place for you.”

  “Beggars cannot be choosers.”

  He felt silent after that,
perhaps contemplating that destiny they’d spoken of. What did the future hold, for either of them? Perhaps Asher was starting to realize that there was a future, a whisper of something he’d been refusing to acknowledge all of these years. After a moment, he sighed faintly.

  “Sleep here tonight,” he said. “But please do not leave on the morrow until I’ve had a chance to speak with you. Will you do that?”

  “But why?”

  “Because… because I ask it. Please, Miss Emma.”

  Emma wasn’t sure why he’d made such a request, but she agreed. “Very well,” she said. “But I will leave at dawn.”

  “Even if the storm has not let up?”

  “Even if.”

  “But you cannot travel in this weather.”

  “I have traveled in worse.”

  He scratched his head; she could see the movement in the darkness. “Wait until morning,” he said. “I must speak to you before you leave.”

  There was a plea in that, Emma thought. Or perhaps she was reading too much into it. All she knew was that there was something in his voice that tugged at her heart, gently but unmistakably. He sounded so… lost.

  Almost as if he didn’t want her to go.

  But that was a foolish, silly thought.

  “As you wish,” she said.

  He seemed satisfied. “Good,” he said. “Now, come upstairs and you can have your choice of beds. There are several up there.”

  But Emma begged off. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go upstairs where he was, even though they’d had a nice conversation. There was something improper about it and she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about her.

  “I will stay here,” she said. “Your offer is kind, but this couch suits me perfectly. It is very comfortable.”

  He didn’t argue with her. “If you wish,” he said. “Then I will bid you a good night and thank you for the conversation. It has been a very long time since I have had such a pleasant one.”

  He was being quite kind now and, if she thought on it, charming as well. It was a stark difference from the man she’d met only a short while ago.

  “I enjoyed it also,” she said. “Are you sure I cannot make you more tea for your cough? And your fever…”

  He waved her off as he rose from his chair. “Please do not concern yourself,” he said. “I will heal. I always do.”

  He didn’t seem concerned in the least so she didn’t press. Emma waited until he left the room before lying back down again on the couch, using her satchel as a pillow once more. With the wind and rain outside, she was quickly lulled into an exhausted sleep, unaware that Asher was still standing at the reception room door.

  He’d never left.

  Once he was certain she had fallen asleep, he came back into the room and sat down by the hearth, finding great comfort in the presence of another person within the walls of Blackmoor as he listened to the rhythmic breathing of a dreamless slumber.

  Chapter Six

  Destiny

  Brilliant white light startled her awake.

  So did the sound of curtains being pulled. That swishing sound of fabric filled her ears and Emma realized that not only had morning come and she’d been unaware, but someone was opening the curtains.

  She would be seen.

  Panic set in.

  Coming out of a dead sleep, Emma was already sitting up before she realized she had even moved. Groggy, she looked around frantically for her scarf, the one she always kept pulled over her head and cheek. She spied it on the floor at her feet, but as she rolled over to grab it, she rolled right off the couch and hit the floor with a thud.

  Asher turned sharply from the window at the sound. He was the one who had opened the curtains, now standing in front of a window that went from floor to ceiling.

  “I am sorry if I startled you,” he said. “The rain has stopped. I thought to let some light into the room.”

  He was moving for another window to rip those curtains open, too, and Emma grabbed for her scarf only to see it disappear under the couch. When she bent over to see where it had gone, she caught sight of the black and white cat playing with it, dragging it off. Horrified, she scrambled to her feet to follow.

  “You did not startle me,” she lied, her left hand over the scars on her face so he wouldn’t see them. “I should have been up before dawn, but I suppose I was too exhausted. I am very sorry you felt the need to come down here to ensure that I was awake.”

  He yanked open curtains from window to window as the room began to fill with light. “It was no trouble,” he said. “I did not sleep last night, in fact.”

  Emma was trying to find the cat as it played under the furniture. “If my presence here has disturbed you so, then again, I will apologize. I promise I will leave just as soon as I gather my things.”

  She meant her scarf as the cat dragged it under a table. She put her foot down to stop it, but the cat was fast. It ran off with it, now bolting over by the hearth. Mortified, Emma followed.

  “Actually, I was thinking about your departure,” Asher said as he opened the curtains to the last window, oblivious to the fact that Emma was chasing the cat around the room. “Miss Emma, I realize you came here looking for a position and I have not been particularly welcoming. I hope you understand that it is because I cannot pay you, not because I do not need the help. Blackmoor is in a terrible state. I would not expect anyone to work here under these conditions.”

  He was looking out of the window, for which Emma was deeply grateful. He wasn’t looking at her, watching her chase the cat and noting her scarred appearance. Perhaps he would only remember her as a sorrowful woman looking for a job in the days and months to come, if he remembered her that long, and not a deformed freak.

  Truth be told, she was hoping he might remember her.

  It had been a very long time since she’d had such a pleasant conversation with a man and it was a taste of what had once been a daily occurrence with her before the accident. Pretty Emma Fairweather always had men trying to speak to her, whether or not they were properly introduced, and the conversation the night before brought about memories of such times. Emma was glad it had been dark so that he’d been unable to see her.

  Perhaps he would remember her, and their brief laughter together, and wonder how pretty she was.

  She wanted to keep that illusion alive.

  Which meant she had to get her scarf from that silly cat as it played with the tattered ends. Finally, she was able to get hold of it and yank it away from the cat, quickly tying it around her head as she went to collect her satchel and cap.

  “While I appreciate your concern, I would say Blackmoor is not as bad as some places I have seen,” she said as she pulled her cap over her head. “The last place I worked at was practically falling down. I slept in the loft in the barn until the farmer decided he’d rather chase me around while his wife was in town.”

  Asher grunted unhappily, putting his hands on the windowpane to feel whatever warmth might be there. “Like a rutting bull,” he muttered. “That is unfortunate. But even if the state of this place does not turn you away, I could not pay you.”

  “I worked for the farmer and his wife for room and board.”

  He didn’t reply and Emma assumed the conversation was over. The more the seconds ticked away, the more awkward the silence became. Gathering her satchel, she stood there for a moment, watching him. He was quite tall; she hadn’t noticed that before. His hair was long, well past his collar, and had a wave to it that was rather nice. In the light of day, she was seeing him much more clearly and her observation from last night hadn’t been wrong – he was very handsome.

  And well out of her reach.

  Somehow, that realization disappointed her greatly. Not that she ever thought a man like Asher de Russe would ever look at someone like her but, for a brief moment, it was good to dream.

  It made her feel alive again.

  “It is time for me to go,” she said. “I thank you ve
ry much for the shelter and the conversation and I wish you well, my lord. I hope you feel better soon.”

  He turned slightly at the sound of her voice. “Miss Emma?”

  “Aye?”

  “I have been thinking,” he said slowly. “Last night… last night was important for me. You cannot imagine how important.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I will try to explain. You see, I have been slowly dying the past three years. I simply did not realize it until last night just how close to death I was. I told you once I wished for death; that is true. I did. But last night… I heard laughter I’d not heard in years. I spoke to an intelligent young woman who has seen as much tragedy as I have. I think… I think you were meant to be here. You have given me a taste of something I’d forgotten and I do not want to lose it again. If you go, I am afraid that will happen.”

  Emma wasn’t sure why her heart started to pound, but it did. Emotions she’d kept caged were starting to break free, begging for release. He was speaking words that gripped her and she struggled against them, unwilling to believe there was any manner of interest towards her on his part.

  But it certainly sounded like there was.

  “I reminded you of a life past,” she said quietly, edging for the door. “That is all.”

  “That is not all.”

  “I do not know what you…”

  “I want you to stay, Miss Emma. If you will work for room and board, I can provide that. Will you please stay?”

  She was nearly to the door, now coming to a halt. She looked at him in shock as he remained by the window. “Why?” she finally asked. “What do you want from me?”

  “A maid, a companion,” he said. “I will be honest with you. Perhaps you can help me with this house. Perhaps there is something about it that can be cleaned and restored, as you have said. I didn’t particularly care, but now… the house has been in my family for nearly two hundred years and I was coming to think last night, as the storm raged, that I do not want to be the de Russe that lets Blackmoor crumble. That is not what I want my legacy to be.”