Shadowed by Sin

by Layna Pimentel

  As he walked by George, he heard him mumble, “We will see about that.”

  Benedict could not believe what he heard, so when he turned his head to glare at the earl’s son, the insolent fool snickered.

  “A good evening to you, Lord St. John. I am ever grateful that you could attend this week.”

  Benedict left the room with Duncan following him out as well. Duncan was right; the worst was yet to come.

  * * * *

  “Estelle, what are you reading?”

  Oh, mama, how I wish you were still here. I fear for my life. Edwin has become unstable. I overheard the servants the other night commenting on his frequent trips into the Limehouse District. Just yesterday, Matthew had to retrieve him at the request of my dear uncle. Edwin is in such a state that he stormed into the library and began throwing things. Our uncle, of course, is quite vexed and has forbidden him to leave the manor.

  Then there is George. He visited my room last night, and this time I caught him coming through a sliding panel near my bed. George did not realize I could see him entering, but I kept my eyes closed.

  Oh, how I wish Gabriel could speak with my uncle sooner. If we could run away and marry by way of the blacksmith, I know he’d keep me safe.

  I am not sure how much more I can take of this. Do I risk my soul ending up in purgatory if I put an end to this, or do I allow them both to destroy me until there is nothing left? A child cannot be born from these relations. I have to find a way to get away. I am so lost…

  Mama, why did you leave me?

  Benedict had caught her unawares in the parlor, looking jittery and on the verge of weeping. She fumbled with the final letter Helen wrote, days before she was found dead.

  “Are you reading one of the romantic poems you love to read? Wait, why do you look weepy? What is the matter? If you are truly unhappy here, I will arrange for us to leave right away,” he admonished.

  “You cannot leave,” George said from the doorway. “I mean, that is to say, with the officers now gone, we can be at ease. The Mr. Templeton will have a proper funeral and all.”

  “Is there any other reason for your interruption, George?” Estelle asked, moving closer to her fiancé.

  “No, I will be on my way now.” He glared at her sardonically. George walked out without so much as giving them a second look.

  Estelle had not meant to come across as rude, but she did not want to be left alone with him. After reading Helen’s stack, being under the same roof with Edwin and George was not safe. “Ben, we need to leave as soon as possible. When we return to town, I have something to give to the inspector.”

  “What is it, Estelle?”

  “I found letters, evidence that things are not what they seem to be. No one is safe here, not even us. We need to leave and try and stop this before anyone else dies.”

  He gripped her arms and gave her a discerning look. “If you know who murdered Gabriel, you need to tell me, now.”

  “I know who murdered Gabriel, and I am pretty sure I know what happened to Helen. But I will not tell you while we are here. We must leave. I will not stay here any longer than necessary.”

  Estelle felt the weight of her worries lift from her chest. She followed Benedict out of the parlor and found the maid that showed her to the attic.

  “Mary, would you come along with us? I need a hand with some packing.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Allow me to get word to our driver.”

  Estelle followed her beloved up the stairs to her room, only to open the door and find her room had been ransacked.

  “What in damnation!” Ben bellowed behind her, nearly knocking her over as he rushed into the room. “What could you possibly have that would warrant this mess?”

  When their host joined them, Lord Cuthbert gasped and he blanched at the condition of the room. “I had heard you were leaving, and I can certainly see why. The bizarre events these last few days are disturbing.”

  “You cannot tell me that this is surprising, Lord Cuthbert. I imagine since Helen and her brother arrived here, things began happening,” Estelle said.

  The earl did not respond, so she continued grilling him. “And you cannot be remiss in what truly happened to Helen. Her death is no mystery at all, admit it; she took her own life.”

  He grimaced, but then spoke softly. “She did, though I do not know why. She always seemed so happy, very pleasant to be around people. Her passing was quite tragic. Things have not been quite the same. Her brother went into a decline, and our own George could not stand to be under the same roof. After Helen’s death, he went on a tour of the continent. He took it so hard, he needed time away.”

  I am sure he did.

  “I have taken too much of your time already. Thank you for joining our family here, Lord St. John, Miss Humphrey.” The earl bowed and left them to her packing.

  She could not wait to be at home with her papa and continue finalizing her wedding plans.

  Chapter 13

  Two days later.

  “Estelle, you have a visitor,” her papa said.

  “Please tell me it is Ben.”

  “I wish I could, dearest, but it is not. I believe it is an inspector from Scotland Yard.”

  Scotland Yard? “Show him in, Papa, and I would be happy to answer any questions the gentleman might have.”

  A man slightly shorter than Ben entered the room. He wore spectacles, and his cheeks were a ruddy color. Portly in stature, he had to be nearing fifty in age. The gentleman took a seat across from her and studied her for a moment. He coughed and then opened his notebook. “Miss Humphrey, it is my understanding that you and Lord St. John are engaged. Is this fact true?”

  “It is. We are to be married in two weeks’ time.”

  “And when was the last time you saw Lord St. John?”

  “The night before we left Lord Cuthbert’s estate, sir. I sent word to his home, but I have not heard anything back. I would be lying if I said I was not worried.”

  The inspector paused to write something down and continued, “Miss Humphrey, were you aware that he sent me a missive during your stay at Hawthorne Hall, advising he was highly suspicious of your host’s family? He had some concerns and wanted to express them to me in person. ’Tis the truth. I have been waiting for him to arrive at my station for the same amount of time. Would you have any reason to suspect that the Cuthbert’s would do anything to harm him?”

  “No but on the eve of our departure, there had been an incident at the dinner table. Apparently, the countess had a platter placed in front of her, and in the mouth of the lamb a freshly dismembered finger stuck out. There is also the questionable death of Mr. Gabriel Templeton, who supposedly threw himself onto the terrace. ” She paused to look at her papa and returned her attention to the inspector again. “Ben also found a dismembered finger on his pillow.”

  His eyebrows shot up, and a gasp from the door alerted her that her aunt had been listening in.

  “Be honest with me, young lady. Have there been any more deaths since that first night you arrived? Your fiancé told me about your swoon that night, after that gent fell to his death from the terrace. Do you have any reason to suspect someone from the house pushed him?”

  Estelle pondered, but knew too little of the family’s history to suspect they would be capable of any wrong-doing.

  “No. I cannot say that I know any of them that well. However, before the earl’s niece, Helen, passed away so suddenly, she was planning to get away to the country. At least that is what she confided in me. We had been friends for a while, you see. She wouldn’t confide in me why, but it was clear there had been a matter of distrust between her and George. I cannot even say if he is the reason why she wanted to leave.”

  “My dear, the only single reason why a girl would swiftly retreat to the country, is if she were with child. I am going to tell you a little secret about the Cuthbert’s. They are a lot of sinners. Helen’s death had been poorly covered up, and by the time I had just enough e
vidence to bring in George for questioning, the earl had paid off the magistrate, and case closed. If I had to stake my life on it, I am certain that George had his hands on her.”

  An incestuous affair? The inspector has to be wrong. He just has to be. Why would the earl’s son even consider such a sinful act? Although at this point nothing would surprise her.

  “I know this is not the appropriate time to mention this, but it might be useful in your current investigation. The night I swooned, I was returned to my room. I had been drugged and later told that a red rose tied with a black ribbon had been left on my bed. Several days later, we discovered a secret passageway into my room. You should know if there is one, there has to be more, although I cannot confirm it.”

  The inspector closed his notebook and glanced at her with wary eyes. “I think that your information will help. However, we still have the issue of your missing fiancé. Even his parents haven’t heard from him, and he was expected around the same time. If I have need for you to return with me, will you?”

  “Absolutely not!” her father bellowed from the door. “I will not let her return to that devil’s home. Not after everything she has revealed.” Her papa turned his focus on her now. “My dear, sweet girl, why did you not tell me? Your foolish aunt should have informed me the instant you both returned.”

  Estelle had pleaded with her aunt for thirty minutes before they arrived home; it had much to do with her parents being uninformed of the tragedy during their visitation.

  The inspector got up from his seat and inclined his head toward her. “I thank you kindly for your time, Miss Humphrey. I will see myself out.”

  He rose and strode to the door slowly and then stopped, as if remembering something. The inspector turned around and faced her once again. “Just one last note, Miss. The earl’s heir returned to England under suspicious motives. His original plans were to return one month from tomorrow, and I have it on good authority that I am to expect French officials any day now. Do you think George Cuthbert is capable of murder?”

  Estelle’s stomach dropped somewhere beneath her feet. Could it really have been George this entire time? Inconceivable to think the man acted alone. He had to have an accomplice. Yet, the inspector stood there waiting for an answer.

  “Estelle, dearest, do not keep the man waiting. I am certain he would like to get home in time for his supper,” her aunt drawled.

  “I apologize, Inspector, but if I had to guess, and after everything that has transpired at the manor thus far, I would have to confirm that your suspicions would not be a far stretch of the truth.”

  “Thank you, Miss, Mr. Humphrey.”

  I cannot believe I just had this discussion.

  * * * *

  Benedict shook his head, waiting for the fog to lift and his senses to return. He’d been bound to a post, and his limited vision from the darkness didn’t help one bit. Damnation! What happened?

  The scent of rotting wood and decaying flesh burned his nasal passages, and the floor he sat upon dampened his trousers. Just where in the world was he, and how? Blast it. George!

  But where had George taken him? At what remote location did he have him concealed, or did he dare to return him to the estate? The last memory he had was being hit over the head, which explained the blasted pain throbbing in his skull. Nausea made him want to heave but he continued to keep breathing at a steady pace.

  Benedict tried to recount all the events that led to where he sat. His friend had fallen from the terrace the first night, then someone entered Estelle’s room via a secret passageway and drugged her. Not one but two fingers were conveniently placed on a dinner platter and on his pillow. There were far too many inconsistencies with all the different attacks.

  Benedict started to believe there was more than one assailant, which disturbed him on a greater scale. Just what in the world were the Cuthbert’s protecting?

  A noise somewhere off in the distance alerted him that he would not be alone for much longer. Benedict tried to calm himself, but soon found his imagination running away on him.

  “Look who is finally awake.” Darkness engulfed him, and only the light from the lantern that George had brought with him gave him a little hope.

  “Why am I here, George? Or are you afraid that the inspector is going to dig deeper?”

  “Silence!” George bellowed, his voice echoing in their cavernous surroundings.

  Benedict heard a moaning somewhere behind him. Who could possibly be in here with him? He tried to crane his neck, but George delivered him a blow to the face.

  “Leave him be. He went into shock after I cut off the second finger. He’ll survive. Maybe not. I have not quite decided what to do with the imp. He had a most unnatural obsession with his sister; hasn’t been quite right in the head since the bloody day she died. It is just as well he should join sweet Helen.” George had stepped away from the light, kicking the dirt with his boots. “You should know after this, I cannot let you live. It would be supremely stupid of me to leave any evidence behind.”

  “So were you the one.”

  “George, where are you, you bloody idiot!” his father called from outside.

  The cellar! This must have been the confounded place the maid had previously mentioned to Estelle.

  “Keep silent.” George ran over to his cousin and covered his mouth, muffling the moans of agony from his disfigured hand, and aimed his gun at Benedict.

  Long moments passed before another word could be heard beyond their hiding place. He wondered if he had been dragged to that very place Estelle had wanted to explore—the cellar—beneath the original portion of the home. But how in the world had he dragged him in here without anyone noticing? Did someone aid him?

  Not that any of it mattered at this point; at the end of the day, he knew precisely what his fate was, and going home to Estelle didn’t appear to be it. How he longed to see her one last time; her long, dark hair unraveled and spilling over his pillow, her soft curves wrapped in nothing but his arms in his bed. That first night that they had shared minimal intimacy made him crave her more, and now he could smell the soft lavender scent that she wore. Her dark eyes would never burrow into his soul, and he would have to wait until she met her time in the afterlife before they saw each other again.

  Benedict knew his mental ramblings were a little on the dramatic side—Shakespeare might have been proud—but he desperately hoped for a small opportunity for him to get free.

  Edwin’s moaning ceased after he heard what sounded like a crack. Good grief. Had the earl’s heir slammed the boy’s head against the wall? He wondered why the earl never entered where they were being held captive either. The possibility of the arse being involved with his abduction was highly probable, yet explained so much. George approached him, snickering all the while.

  “He will come to soon enough. He cannot possibly come out of it more addled than what he was to begin with. Now then, let us have a little chat about the note you were meaning to send to London.” George paused and crouched down to his haunches and smirked. The lantern behind him cast an eerie shadow of his profile on the river-rock wall, and Ben could now see the decayed carcasses of rats and other field creatures strewn apart. Had this cellar been a hiding place where they practiced mutilating living things?

  “I understand that the earl is relieving your father’s man from his duties, and he expects me to take over. The sorry fact of the matter is, I care not for his fortune and would rather this home be burnt to the ground with its inhabiting ghosts. Our family has had a rather long history of murder. Did you know? And as far as my father’s accounts go, the earl knows nothing of my own fortune I acquired on my travels.”

  Murder?

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Benedict replied with a speculative gaze.

  “What is this? The all-knowing Lord St. John has not educated himself in our scandalous family history? Let me see if I can remember it all.” He paused and sat on his backside across from him. “
My father has killed countless men in duels, and I do believe a scuffle at a gentlemen’s club last year. Apparently, the sod he fist-cuffed was found floating face down in the Thames. Then there is Edwin, who all but burnt the family’s Scottish country home, taking his mother and father to the devil. Sweet, sweet Helen had been fortunate enough to be finishing her last term at school. I believe that was when I recognized she’d lost her bloom.”

  Benedict contemplated the boy’s expressions. The moment he began to discuss his cousin Helen, he had the lustful glaze men had when they were pensive of a lover they favored. He’d wondered if it were a mutual affection too, for Helen would have certainly seen his true colors by then and turned him away.

  “I can tell you are exasperated with my news. I can say my mother is no saint either. So, now do you understand why I say this place is just better if it had burnt down to the ground? One is certain in all this madness that surrounds us; no one will live to tell about it. That is my final promise to everyone who still remains in this house.”

  “Do you mean to tell me that you plan to harm everyone, including the house servants?”

  George snorted and rose from the ground. He paced the floor with his hands folded back, muttering under his breath and looking toward the entrance of the abandoned cellar. “Well, I guess I am off. Father will be tearing through the house looking for Edwin and I. Rest easy tonight knowing it will be your last.”

  The earl’s son departed, taking the lantern with him and not saying another word.

  Benedict did have one thing to his advantage; the fool had no idea of the note he had sent earlier to the inspector. With any luck, the inspector will realize I’m missing, and return to the house.

  * * * *

  Edwin writhed with pain, unsure if he would die from the blow to his head. His body ached like nothing before. His thoughts were jumbled with things of the past and future. It had not occurred to him just how deviant George was until the rogue had divulged what he had done to the French lady he left behind. The French authorities couldn’t come fast enough to whisk this idiot away.