Estelle stepped away from the wall, stalked toward the vanity, and sat down. She took a cloth, dipped it into the washbasin, and covered her face with it. How she desperately needed to feel refreshed, but decided to close her eyes for only the slightest of seconds. Her mind wandered aimlessly at how her wedding plans were progressing. In exactly one month, she and Ben would finally be together.
All that remained of their preparations was the wedding breakfast and their travel abroad. Ben expressed an interest in them travelling to the Continent, but given the amount of money she had heard it would cost, she had been adamant in delaying such a frivolous expenditure.
She yanked off the towel and stood up to loosen her gown, before her maid arrived to assist with her change of gowns. When she removed her corset and stood in nothing but her chemise and stockings, a strange cool air wafted in the room. The candles flickered hard, and returned to the gentle dance.
How odd is that? This wing cannot be so old to be so drafty.
Estelle looked up to stare into the mirror and wished she had been graced with more feminine curves. A scant later, the looking glass shook. She went over to it, to ensure it would not fall, but the blasted thing had been secured to the wall.
What in damnation is going on?
Before she could comprehend the brevity of the situation, a faded image in the looking glass stared back at her and whispered hauntingly, “Stay away from the walls.”
Bloody hell! Helen.
Estelle looked away from the glass to the portrait, and then back to the mirror. The image whispered the warning again, before dissipating into thin air.
Too distraught, Estelle failed to notice her maid entering the room.
“I see you have already beaten me to the undressing, Miss. Let me help you with your gown.”
Estelle nodded, but one look at the young maid had her in tears.
“What is amiss, Estelle? Shall I call for Lord St. John?”
“No, no. I am just seeing things. You see, I am quite exhausted. It has been known for a person to be touched at times of extreme fatigue.”
“If you would rather not come down, I am certain his lordship will not mind.”
While it was a tempting offer, Estelle did not dream of insulting her hosts. Besides that, she did not care to be confined to her room.
“Mary, do you know much of the estate’s history?”
“Only what I have heard from the other servants gossiping.”
“What about ghosts?”
“Well, that, Miss, you should know too many unexplained things have happened since I came to work here five years ago. So it would not be a far stretch of the imagination if most of us believed in specters coming back to haunt us on unfinished business if you catch my meaning.”
An interesting fact.
“Most excellent, I do hope that you will share your stories with me, when we are alone again.”
“Certainly, Miss. Now, let us get you into a fresh gown for dinner. It is my understanding that all the guests have arrived, and the countess has already rang for dinner to be served within the hour.”
Estelle nodded and retrieved a gown from her trunk. Now, to get on with the evening. If that was the first strange thing to happen since their arrival, Estelle shuddered to think what would transpire next.
First, she was plagued with a vision of a cellar and blood, and now she received otherworldly advice to stay away from the walls. Estelle shook her head with dismay. Perhaps coming here was a mistake.
Chapter 4
“Are you well, my dear?” Benedict asked his fiancée. Her usually rosy complexion had blanched, and her hands slightly trembled as she raised a water goblet to her lips. He suspected exhaustion was the culprit, and considering she had not mentioned any other ailments, Benedict did not overly concern himself.
“I am fine, Ben. Whatever it is shall pass.”
“If you are certain, however, if you find yourself in a situation where a physician is required; have your aunt summons me and I will fetch one myself.” He squeezed her knee, only to receive a warning glare from her aunt who sat on the other side of her.
She nodded in response and he carried on eating. It had been so long since he had seen his friends and found it immensely convenient and peculiar that all of them were invited to Lord Cuthbert’s estate in welcoming his son. At the very least, it would make their stay less dull. The boys at the best of times were well known to be ill-mannered, walking and living demons bent on sin, and brawling. But what young man did not?
He nodded at his friends across the table, and would introduce his lovely wife-to-be to his companions from university. There were times he wondered what the boys had been up to. A few months back he had heard rumors of Camden’s money trouble, and his father’s scandal with investors.
One never knew what could be trusted in the whispers, but everyone knew an ounce of truth could always be found in rubbish.
“Miss Estelle, how is Baron Humphrey these days?” Lord Cuthbert called out from the end of the table.
Benedict looked at his lovely fiancée, who blushed furiously at the attention. The poor, dear woman disliked being the center of attention.
“Aren’t you going to answer him, dearest?”
“My papa is well, Lord Cuthbert. Thank you for inquiring,” she said.
“St. John, I would like for you to visit after you and Estelle are wed. I would be honored to host another gathering in your name. I imagine your coffers will be well-stocked for years to come.”
Benedict nearly choked on his biscuit. “Certainly, my lord. It would be us who would be honored, but we would hate to be any trouble at all. In regards to my financial situation; I assure you my countess will want for nothing, nor will our children.”
“Pish-posh. My countess and I would like nothing more. I, for one, think an opportunity such as this is something you should greatly consider.”
As the dishes were lifted away from the table, their host and his wife led the party into the ballroom for some music, dancing, and post dinner refreshments.
He led Estelle down the hall when a guest bumped into him, sending Estelle into a table holding a vase.
Benedict grunted from the impact, recovered, and saw to her aid. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine, Ben. Who bumped into you while rushing down the hall?”
“I have no idea, but once I plant you in a respectable lady’s company, I have every intention of discovering who the bastard is.”
Now it was her turn to comfort him, and while her touch stirred other emotions than comfort, he did not want to alarm her in any manner.
“Do not fret. I promise not to create any trouble. You are deserving of an apology, and I will ensure you get one.”
“Then there is no need to escort me. I will find my own way to the hall, as I am sure I can find my aunt from here.” She gritted her teeth and left him in the hall.
What had he said to offend her? He started down the hall in the direction of where the gent headed, but not a single person could be seen; it was almost too quiet, not even a servant. He went to turn around, but the sound of something being thrown against a wall drew him further down the hall until he reached the open door of the library.
A vase lay in a hundred pieces on the floor near a bookcase. How odd. This doesn’t appear to have fallen on its own. Who could have done this?
Heavy, yet quick steps scurried away from the vicinity, but where to and from? The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with the possibility that someone had either expected him to follow, or now moved away to watch him with malice. This visit began to grate on his nerves. If things did not improve, they would be leaving tomorrow instead of the weekend.
He followed the corridor leading to the ballroom when he encountered his old friends.
“We were wondering when we would see you again. I daresay, when were you going to tell us of your pending nuptials to that lovely creature that’s on the terrace right now?” Cam
den asked with the dashing smile he often used to charm the ladies.
“I had every intention of doing so this evening. If you follow me, I will see to that matter right away,” Benedict said.
“No rush. Come have a drink with us. Duncan is at the table over here. You may join your betrothed momentarily. So, what news do you bring from London? There’s been mad gossip about our families.”
“Why do you seem so interested in what people have to say, Camden? You weren’t much for gossip to begin with.”
“No; but seeing as there’s been more than one scandal I am interested in learning which one I will have to deal with first. I have only just come back, you see,” Camden said.
Yes, he had heard that his friend had gone off to the West Indies. Lord only knew why. Perhaps hiding from debts was what ailed him, gambling what little money he had left, and whoring. In a small way, he was glad that the men had not changed much or he would think them ill, or worst yet, dying.
“Am I correct that I saw Gabriel present?” Benedict asked.
“You are. He left a little while ago to retrieve something from his room. It has been at least a quarter hour; he should be back anytime now.”
Gabriel Warren had been the quiet one of the bunch, and very reserved. While he attended most of the men’s activities, he rarely took part. Not since Helen.
Wait. Was not Helen the earl’s niece?
“Before we join my fiancée, was Gabriel courting the earl’s niece?”
Camden rubbed his chin before responding. “Now that you mention it, he did. No wonder the bastard has been unusually quiet tonight.”
Benedict could not have imagined how unwelcome his friend would be in the home of a woman he courted.
Henry continued. “Did they ever figure out how she died?”
“No, they did not. In fact, I am certain the authorities suspected her brother, Edwin, but a lack of evidence threw that theory to the wind.” Cameron added.
Music from the ballroom spilled out into the side room where they stood. Laughter filled the air while couples moved around them leaving the terrace. He spotted Estelle talking with a few women, including her aunt, before returning his attention to his schoolmates.
“She is quite lovely, St. John. How on earth did you settle on such a creature? I find the notion of you marrying at all quite surprising. How did you meet? How is your father doing?”
Benedict sighed, contemplating how to respond to the question that weighed heavily on his mind as of late. Just how far would the Earl of Hawthorne go to prove a point to his father? While Estelle was not of the higher echelons of the aristocracy, his mother eventually had to come around. For heaven’s sake, Estelle would be the mother of his children, his heirs. He cared not for her dowry, for he saved every cent of his inheritance and didn’t squander his coin as his friends had over the years. Bah. In the end, all that mattered was that he loved her, and there was not a thing his mother or the Earl of Hawthorne could do to stop them. That is, unless he and Estelle ended up dead.
“I rescued her in the market several months ago from an impertinent pup who followed her about, publicly professing his love for her. She all but tripped into me. Estelle is quite fetching, and I am quite pleased to say that she is mine. As for my father, he is doing as well as can be expected. He doesn’t go out much anymore, however my mother takes care of all the socializing at this point.”
“By the by, St. John, she will be the prettiest countess these parts have ever laid their eyes upon. Do not be a fool. Don’t wait until the end of the month to marry her. Compromise her, and run away to Scotland. I imagine you’ll find this gathering much too droll when you could be spending your time more wisely.”
He snorted, as did his companions. Benedict swallowed his drink.
A cacophony of shrieking and screaming came from the terrace.
He led the group toward the commotion to find Gabriel’s crumpled and lifeless body on the ground. But how? Did he fall out the window from above? He lost his breath, and words could not escape his lips even if he tried. His head throbbed as he tried to hold back tears for his friend. He looked up and gazed into Estelle’s stoic gaze, and caught her before she swooned.
He dropped to his knees while still holding her. His whole body quaked with fear, sadness, and grief. Benedict squeezed his fiancée one last time before rising to his feet with the aid of Duncan and Henry.
“Do you want me to carry her?” Henry asked mournfully.
Benedict refused to release her. “No, I will carry her myself.”
Estelle’s aunt fell into step with him, as did their hosts. It was time the evening’s festivities ended for the night, and hopefully they could get to the bottom of what happened come morning.
* * * *
Edwin latched the panel closed as quietly as he could from his sister’s former fiancé’s room. The chamber had been left in a state of disarray. Damn Gabriel for arguing, and damn him for not listening to a word he had to say. His tumble could have been avoided if only he’d tried to understand. Nothing will ever change, he reflected. Even from his hiding place within the hidden passages, the shrieking from the terrace echoed all around him, irritating his already throbbing head. He desired nothing more than to gouge his own eyes out. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled sharply, wincing from the pain in his middle from being punched ten minutes earlier.
The assault had been unexpected, but one supposed they had the right to defend themselves. Yet, he should have been prepared and expected the retaliation. Blast it.
Edwin needed to return to his room before his uncle noted his absence, but the instant he stepped out of the secret panel in the wall, he heard voices. Pressing against the wall hidden around the corner, he peered to see which guests were approaching when he suddenly spied his cousin watching the guests from the opposite end of the hall.
Lord St. John carried Estelle to her room, with her aunt in tow. The earl followed behind, as did the countess and several servants. Had she swooned? It was then he noticed his cousin slip out of sight, but not before bringing his finger to his lips to order him to keep silent; the audacity his cousin had to command him even from afar. A rush of servants and Estelle’s companions left her chambers. Whispers too quiet, he could not hear a syllable from this distance.
If he were to pop into her room and check on her, someone would notice his entry, and would question his sudden interest in her. Her fiancé would decidedly be displeased considering their first encounter a year prior. The only way he could check on her had to be through the passageway, but he could not delay in returning to his room. The earl would check there after the accident to ensure he had not played a part in the tragedy. Yet, one small look in on her could not hurt.
Edwin returned to the secret panel in the hallway and disappeared behind it, desperately trying to make as little noise as possible, until he backed into a nook where he kept a bottle of his aunt’s stash of laudanum for the days his head ached. Catching the dusty green bottle, Edwin tucked it away, giving his head a shake.
You are a clumsy fool. Is it no wonder the girl rejected you? No one wants you. How unfortunate it is, that we are saddled with the likes of you. You will never amount to anything. The countess’s words breezed through his mind. He’d heard them so often these last two years that he almost believed them.
He would show her yet; very soon they would all receive their comeuppance in spades.
Chapter 5
Estelle woke from her faint feeling as if someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. Her eyes barely focused, but she instantly recognized she had been returned to her designated chamber. In a haze, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. The fireplace glowed in doubles, confusing her even more. What happened? Why do I feel this way?
However confusing her current state left her, Estelle made out a shadow at the end of the bed, and it was not Ben. Whoever stood there observed her motionless, silent, and for some unknown reason, she did not sens
e a threatening presence. A gentleman came to her side and poured fluid onto a spoon.
“This will help with the headache.”
He slipped the spoon between her parched lips.
Estelle tried to swallow, but could not help but choke at the bitterness of the medicine.
The man held a glass to her lips and poured some water gently into her mouth. “It has a disgusting taste, but I promise it will do you well. Go back to sleep, my love.”
Why is this man calling me his love? I do not know who he is. Or do I?
Estelle eased back into her pillow, waves of nausea rose from the pits of hell, and the smell of the smoke from the hearth began to irritate her. Yet, the sense that something was terribly wrong remained.
She shivered at a breeze passing over her inexplicably and the heat of someone’s breath hovered by her ear.
“You must get away. Do not let him touch you. He will taint your soul, break your heart, and hell follows him everywhere he goes. Leave while you can.”
Estelle tried to make sense of the words, but they were garbled. Her eyelids weighed heavily, her breathing became deep. She found herself being whisked away to a time before Ben proposed.
“Estelle, wait,” Helen called out from down the street. “If you are going into Mr. Milton’s perfumery, I would love to join you.”
They walked in together and browsed along the proprietor’s counter. The samples wafted up into the floral air, removing any trace of the city stench outside. Exotic scents of jasmine and cinnamon were Estelle’s favorites.
Helen leaned in and whispered, “I just wanted you to know, I will be going away for a few months. I have an ailing relative in the country, but you cannot breathe a word of it to anyone. Not even my brother.”
“Why would I tell your brother?”
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