Echoes in the Mist

by Echoes In the Mist (lit)

He chuckled. "Still convinced you are the ordinary mouse, I see."

  "Baxter, in all due respect, you hardly sent for me in order to discuss my physical attributes, did you?"

  A shadow crossed his face. "Do I now need a reason to see my sister?"

  A pang of conscience tugged at Ariana's heart. "Of course not. I only wondered why you delivered so formal and insistent a message."

  Baxter gave a mirthless laugh. "Well, I could hardly visit you, now could I? Stroll into Broddington and announce myself... I who am your brother and the head of the Caldwell family? I think not."

  Ariana dropped her gaze sadly. "I see your point."

  "I rather thought you would." Catching her chin, Baxter lifted her face for his inspection. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Kingsley hasn't hurt you, has he?"

  Ariana averted her head.

  "Has he?"

  "No!" She felt her cheeks burn. On a cognizant level, she was aware that Baxter's question pertained only to her physical well-being, bearing no resemblance to the wanton thoughts it immediately evoked. Still, the images of her sensual intimacy with Trenton sprang vividly to mind: the intensity, the fervor, the indescribable pleasure he induced. But hurt her? "No, of course he hasn’t," she denied hotly.

  Baxter studied her another moment, then nodded. "Very well." He crossed the room and poured himself a drink. "Would you like one?"

  "No." Ariana sank into a chair. "I'll wait for the tea."

  "Suit yourself." He took a deep swallow. "So, you've survived two days of marriage to Trenton Kingsley."

  "Survival was never an issue." Her fingers tightened on the folds of her gown, bracing her for an unpleasant exchange.

  Baxter tossed off the rest of his drink. "In other words he's returned to the Isle of Wight, as I suspected, and you haven't been burdened with his presence."

  "He's at Broddington."

  "What?" Baxter looked stunned.

  "For the most part," she clarified. "He did visit Spraystone, but not for long. Predominantly, he's stayed with us at Broddington."

  "Us?"

  "Dustin's been there since the wedding. He'll be returning to Tyreham in a few days."

  "Ah... the marquis." Baxter refilled his glass.

  "He's a wonderful man," Ariana said defensively.

  "I don't doubt it." Inclining his head, Baxter gave her a curious look. "You're enjoying his company, then?"

  "Who?"

  "Your husband's brother... wasn't that who we were discussing?"

  "Oh, yes." Ariana felt unusually flustered. "Yes, Dustin is great fun. He's teaching me to play croquet. Or at least he's trying to," she added ruefully.

  Baxter traced the rim of his glass. "Well, that certainly explains your rapid adjustment." He raised his probing gaze to Ariana's, weighing her reaction. "So you've had very little time alone with Kingsley, then."

  Twin spots of red reappeared on her cheeks.

  Baxter's glass slammed to the desk as comprehension struck, the true cause of Ariana's embarrassment finally registering its full impact. "Did he force himself on you?"

  When Ariana only blinked in total stupefaction, Baxter stalked across the room and yanked her to her feet. "Did that bloody bastard force you into his bed?"

  Ariana snapped out of her stunned silence. "Force me? For God's sake, the man is my husband! Surely you knew what that meant when you agreed to the marriage!"

  "I didn't agree to it," Baxter shot back. "The blackguard had a royal edict from the Queen! My hands were tied."

  "You certainly didn't try very hard to untie them."

  Baxter winced at his sister's cutting accusation. "What could I have done?" he beseeched, his grip tightening in frustration. "Kingsley is a close personal friend of Victoria's. From the day Vanessa died, the Queen made it clear she believed unconditionally in his innocence. Given that fact, what grounds did I have to prevent her decree that you wed him?"

  Ariana twisted free of Baxter's grasp and turned away. "There's nothing to be gained by this argument. The point is a moot one... My marriage is a fait accompli and cannot be undone."

  The finality of Ariana's proclamation descended upon Baxter like a heavy boulder, crushing him-but at the same time making him supremely aware of how ludicrously he was behaving. Yes, the marriage was a fait accompli-perhaps not with his blessing, but without his vehement objection. Ariana was Kingsley's wife now... and that meant in body as well as name.

  Baxter stared at Ariana's tense back, assailed by a sense of melancholy that his baby sister was a child no longer. The looming reality was that Kingsley's entire purpose in forcing Ariana to the altar had been to steal her innocence and possess her as his own, thus seizing the ultimate opportunity to destroy the Caldwells. And despite Ariana's obliviousness to her own desirability, she was indeed a rare beauty, one any man would want in his bed.

  Baxter fought back his anger and regret, reminding himself that the Caldwell reward was still to come.

  Clearing his throat roughly, he placed gentle hands on Ariana's shoulders. "I'm sorry, sprite. I had no right to rant at you like that. It's just..." His voice faltered. "You're all I have left and I worry about you."

  Ariana twisted slowly to face him. "I know," she said softly, covering his hand with her own. "But there's no need. Trenton would never hurt me."

  A blaze of fury re-ignited Baxter's eyes. "Trenton..." he repeated, more horrified by her use of Kingsley's given name than by the knowledge that they’d lain together. The latter was a necessary evil, the former an unwelcome warning.

  "You still hate him so," Ariana murmured, studying the enmity in her brother's eyes.

  "Have you forgotten that he was responsible for Vanessa's death?"

  "Was he?" she responded swiftly, her body going rigid. "Tell me how."

  Baxter's expression grew savage.

  "I want to hear the details of Vanessa's death," Ariana repeated. "All these years I've been told only the barest of facts... plus endless speculations. I understand I was merely a child at the time and you wanted to protect me. But I’m not a child any longer... and I need to know."

  "No, dammit!" Baxter jerked away and walked to the window. "I have no intention of reliving that day."

  Ariana's palm struck the desk. "I am wed to the man, Baxter. Exactly how did he factor into Vanessa's death?"

  Baxter lurched around. "Vanessa loved that bastard. She planned to marry him. She gave him everything... her heart, her love... everything. And he abused her."

  "Physically?" Ariana interrupted, her heart screaming an instant denial.

  "He brought her to the very depths of despair." Baxter jabbed his hands in his pockets, either oblivious to Ariana's question or unwilling to answer it. "He taught her the meaning of jealousy, fear, and cruelty. Until she had nothing left inside her. Nothing."

  Ariana forced herself to consider Baxter's implication objectively, striving to reconcile her memories of their stunning, vibrant older sister with Baxter’s description of the despondent, lethargic woman who had lost all will to live. Had Vanessa truly been that devastated? Over a man?

  Ariana pressed her lips together, contemplating the Trenton she knew: his anger and vengeance, his potential for ruthless brutality. Then, with an adamancy she never knew she possessed, she shook her head in definitive repudiation. "No. It makes no sense." Ignoring Baxter's stricken expression, she pressed on, purposefully avoiding any mention of Trenton. "Vanessa was an independent, self-assured woman."

  "Perhaps she appeared that way to a twelve-year-old."

  For a second, Ariana faltered. Could her memories of her sister be merely the misconceptions of youth, clouded further by the passage of time?

  As Ariana hesitated, Theresa's words crystallized in her mind, unbidden yet strangely enlightening. I don't believe love was ever the issue... You recall your sister-how can you not be sure of that?

  "No, Baxter." With renewed strength, Ariana stood her ground. "One man’s rejection wou
ld not be enough to incite Vanessa to take her own life."

  "Then he took it for her."

  Ariana inhaled sharply. It wasn't the first time Baxter had uttered those words aloud, but it was the first time they had cut through her like a knife. "Why would he?"

  "He's a vicious animal... that's why."

  "That's an opinion, not a reason," Ariana refuted, trying to still her body’s involuntary trembling. "What proof do you have?"

  "Proof?" Now Baxter's anger was directed at Ariana. "If I had actual proof, the bloody madman would be in Newgate!" He advanced toward her, his eyes narrowing on her face. "What's happened to you, Ariana? You never questioned my word before. You're a Caldwell, dammit! And we're talking about our sister!"

  "I know we are!" Tears stung Ariana's eyes. "But why are you so certain that her death was either murder or suicide? Why couldn't it have been a horrible accident?"

  "Because it wasn't." Baxter clamped his fists together. "Why? Has your husband"-he spat out the word-"managed to convince you of that fact?"

  "Trenton and I haven't discussed Vanessa."

  "Of course not! If you'd discussed Vanessa, then Trenton would be forced to tell you of her journal!"

  An onerous silence descended, heavy as a fatal blow. "Journal?" Ariana managed at last. "What journal?" Baxter's mouth snapped shut, as if by doing so it could recall his hastily blurted words.

  "What journal, Baxter?" Ariana prodded.

  "The one she kept during the months preceding her death," he answered reluctantly.

  "Why wasn't I ever told of this?"

  Baxter snatched up his glass and refilled it, desperately in need of fortification. "You said it yourself, Ariana. You were barely twelve years old. You were told as much as you needed to know."

  "What was in Vanessa's journal and how did you get it?" Ariana asked, her stomach knotted with dread.

  "You don't really want to hear this," Baxter warned.

  "Let me be the judge of that."

  He sighed... heavily. "I found the journal beneath Vanessa's pillow the day after she died. It was almost as if she'd left it there because she wanted me to find it." He rubbed his temples. "If the journal had been there prior to that day, Theresa would have stumbled upon it when she straightened up. So I can only assume that Vanessa placed it there... that night."

  "Go on." Ariana leaned against the side of the desk, struggling for composure.

  "It contained recountings of Vanessa's courtship with Kingsley. The madman coveted her like some cherished possession... one he controlled. As long as she was by his side he was content. But when she wasn't, he became irrational. He hired men to follow her, to see where she was going, whom she was meeting. His twisted jealousy evolved into a hideous, insane obsession. As the months went by, he became more and more unbalanced, totally convincing himself that Vanessa was being unfaithful to him... repeatedly, wantonly... like some common street trollop."

  "And was she?"

  "Never." Baxter bit out the words. "But that didn't deter Kingsley. If a gentleman so much as tipped his hat in Vanessa's direction, he suspected the worst and threatened to kill the man on the spot. When Vanessa eventually rebelled, he threatened to kill her too. She was paralyzed with fear."

  "You witnessed all this?" Ariana whispered.

  "I didn't need to!" Baxter snapped. "I knew Kingsley was unstable; I'd seen enough evidence of that. And I knew he had some kind of unique hold over Vanessa... Initially, I assumed it was merely because of how much she loved him. But as time passed, I watched her change before my very eyes. She became depressed, jumpy, withdrawn. She rarely left the house except when Kingsley summoned her. Then she sped to his side, as if she were terrified of keeping him waiting. That's when I intervened, begging her to sever their relationship. She refused, insisting that she loved him with her whole heart. Had I known all her journal later revealed, I would have murdered the bastard in cold blood. Instead, I learned the truth too late." Baxter's voice broke. "He'd already killed Vanessa."

  "The journal couldn't possibly have stated that," Ariana gasped, paling.

  "The implication is there," Baxter spat out, exuding raw hatred. "Whether it was suicide or murder, the end result remains unchanged: Trenton Kingsley killed our sister."

  "Dear Lord." Ariana covered her face with trembling hands.

  "So... at last you believe me?"

  She raised her chin, ignoring Baxter's question in lieu of her own. "Despite these monstrous possibilities, you allowed me to marry him?"

  Baxter didn't flinch. "Yes."

  "How could you?" Her voice shook.

  "As I've said before, I knew you'd be safe."

  "You knew I'd be safe? How in the name of heaven could you know that?"

  Guilt flashed briefly in Baxter's eyes, ugly memories rearing their heads. "I gave you that answer the day Kingsley brandished his royal decree at Winsham. No one has forgotten the unresolved tragedy of Vanessa's death... and suspicion has resurfaced along with Kingsley's re-emergence from the Isle of Wight. All eyes are upon him, and he knows it. No, Ariana, Kingsley wouldn’t dare harm you."

  Ariana dashed bitter tears from her cheeks. "I want to see the journal," she demanded, needing something more tangible than Baxter's accusations to strip away her last filaments of intuition and faith.

  "I don't have it."

  "Who does?"

  "Kingsley."

  Weakly, she sank into a chair, her eyes widening with shock. "You'd better explain."

  With a defeated sigh, Baxter nodded. "At this point I might as well tell you everything." He clasped his hands behind his back, studying Ariana's face to monitor her mental state. "As I said, I discovered the journal beneath Vanessa’s pillow. On her nightstand was a letter she'd written to me the day before she died. It was heartbreaking, filled with torment... And its message was painfully clear." He paused to compose himself. "Our sister was saying good-bye."

  Ariana dug her fingers into the arms of the chair. "A suicide note?"

  "Seemingly so... yes."

  Baxter's dubious tone found its mark. "You still believe she was murdered... why?"

  "Because Vanessa's final journal entry, penned the same day as her letter, revealed far more than her note." Baxter shuddered, remembering. "I had gone out that evening. Apparently, sometime during my absence, Kingsley delivered a message commanding Vanessa to meet him at once. Whatever his words, the tone was obviously far beyond reason or sanity. Vanessa's terrified state of mind was chillingly evident in her writing. Her references to Kingsley were sinister, ominous. She was obviously petrified about what Kingsley planned to do to her." Baxter's jaw clenched. "I'll never forgive myself for being away when Vanessa needed me."

  "What did you do once you'd read the letter and the journal?" Ariana prompted, a hairsbreadth away from collapse.

  "Do?" He leveled his gaze on hers. "Right after Vanessa's mutilated gown was found washed up on shore, I ordered Kingsley to Winsham. I confronted him with both documents."

  "What was his reaction?"

  "He coerced me into giving him the journal."

  Ariana shot up like an arrow. "Coerced you? How did he coerce you?"

  Bitterness twisted Baxter's features into a mask of hatred. "He threatened me, swore he'd strip me of everything I had left if I didn't turn the journal over to him. I knew by the burning lunacy in his eyes that he was capable of anything... even murder. I had you to consider, sprite. You were my responsibility... and all I had left. He'd already robbed me of Vanessa. So I gave him the journal."

  "But if you'd delivered it to the authorities-"

  "They'd say it was the unstable ramblings of a suicidal woman," Baxter cut in. "The journal was rife with implications, Ariana, but no concrete proof."

  "Yet Trenton insisted on having it."

  "Of course he did! There wasn't enough evidence to convict the bastard, but there was certainly enough to destroy his name and ruin his family. Society is not nearly so discerning as the courts: The
y would condemn him on Vanessa’s words alone."

  Ariana nodded numbly. "So you gave him the journal."

  "Yes. All I wanted was to expel Trenton Kingsley from our lives forever."

  The irony of the situation was almost too much for Ariana to bear. The man Baxter had sought to banish from their lives was now her husband.

  "I never expected him to return, Ariana," Baxter said softly, reading her mind. "Even though no one ever saw the journal, news of Vanessa's probable suicide quickly spread... along with speculation about its cause. The combination of Kingsley's own guilt and public pressure was too much for him. He fled to Wight six years ago and hasn't returned... until now."

  Baxter's words triggered a thought in Ariana's mind. "Where is Vanessa’s suicide note?"

  Baxter kneaded his taut neck muscles. "I have it."

  "Please show it to me."

  "Sprite..." Baxter began gently, bending to reach for her hands, "I don’t think that's a good-"

  "I want to see it, Baxter." Ariana snatched her fingers away, defying her brother for the first time in her young life.

  "Very well," Baxter agreed, his brow knit with concern. "I'll get it."

  Ariana sank back into the chair the moment she was alone, trying to absorb the shock she'd suffered-and the one she had yet to bear. Her sister's suicide note. What would it say? And what of the journal Baxter had relinquished? Had it described Trenton as a madman, a murderer? Ariana closed her eyes, lowering her head to ward off the bleak despair. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. How could she have been so totally wrong about her husband?

  Violent, groundless jealousy

  . The memory of Trenton's unwarranted tirade yesterday stirred to life in Ariana's mind, refusing to be stifled. Had jealousy been its cause? Jealousy, incited by discovering her with Dustin? Irrational... groundless. Yes... both. Violent. Lord, yes... Trenton had been capable of almost anything. But... murder? As if from a great distance Ariana heard Coolidge's voice asking if Her Grace were feeling well, and her own automatic reply, assuring him that she was perfectly fine. Gratefully, she accepted a cup of tea, then dismissed him, sitting back to await her brother's return.

  Baxter reached the study just as Coolidge emerged.