Signs of Love and Deliverance

by Tracy Kay

  Madeline loved to climb trees as high as she could, but it never failed that she would dirty her dress. Mrs. Grebbs would give her a lecture and send her to bed without dinner. It was a small price to pay for the joy of touching the sky, viewing the world as if she were a bird. She had no fear of heights, and when she was asked what she was afraid of, she could never think of anything, but that changed all too soon.

  Madeline was ten years old on that fateful summer day when she had been playing outdoors and ripped her dress. Mrs. Grebbs noticed and decided to punish Madeline more harshly than she had in the past for her waywardness. “How many times have I told you not to play out doors? You are a young lady, not a street urchin. Why can’t you be more demure, calm, and decorous? You are going to learn how to be a proper lady if it is the last thing you do.”

  Mrs. Grebbs grabbed Madeline’s arm, dragged her upstairs to a part of the attic which was never used, and shoved her into a tiny, empty, dark room. “You will stay in here and think about your actions. Think long and hard young lady or I will keep you in here longer.” The woman slammed the door and turned the key.

  Madeline heard her steps as she walked away. It wasn’t so bad, she convinced herself. She could see a bit of sunlight streaming in through the cracks of the door, reflecting the dust motes floating across the empty, wood floor.

  Madeline looked around her and noticed a spider in the corner making a web. “Hello, little spider. Are you making your web to lay your eggs in? I am sorry to disturb you,” she apologized to the spider as it ignored her and continued making its web. Madeline gave a big sigh, unafraid of the spider or being locked in the room. She knew that Mrs. Grebbs wouldn’t dare leave her in here for long.

  Mrs. Grebbs had done mean things before, such as making her go to bed without her supper or taking away her cat, Scrambler. She thought that was the meanest thing, making her little, sweet kitty sleep outside all alone when he was accustomed to sleeping with her. Mrs. Grebbs had also taken away her riding privileges and made her stay in her room for hours. She never minded that. She liked being alone. She got to write in the diary her brother, Nicholas, had given to her for a birthday gift. She hid it in the corner of her armoire under a pair of old shoes where Mrs. Grebbs would never find it. If she ever did read it, she would be really mad, considering that Madeline wrote some nasty things about her.

  Madeline sighed again and leaned against the wall. It was only a matter of waiting for Mrs. Grebbs to get over her snit and let her out. Tired from her day’s adventures, Madeline slid down the wall to sit, closed her eyes, and fell asleep, having nothing else to do.

  A sound startled her awake. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, but looking around her getting her bearings, she remembered where she was. She realized that there was no light left in the small room as there was before she fell asleep. She saw a bright flash of light followed by a loud boom. Madeline shivered, realizing that it must be night and a storm was on the way. She never particularly liked storms. They always made her a little nervous, but she wasn’t scared of them. Her brother, Stephen, told her the clouds made all that racket because they were fighting over which one created the best picture. However, whenever there was a thunder storm, she sought out Nicholas or Stephen for company.

  Madeline had missed the mid-day meal and tea. Now, it was way past dinner and she was hungry and thirsty. She wondered what happened to Mrs. Grebbs and why she hadn’t let her out yet. Madeline stood up and tried the door, but it was locked. She rattled the door and yelled. “Mrs. Grebbs! Mrs. Grebbs! Let me out!” Madeline started yelling louder and banging on the door. “Someone, please, let me out! Nicholas! Stephen! Someone! Please!” She rattled the knob again and threw her small body against the door to no avail. With a sob, she sank to the floor.

  “This is silly,” Madeline muttered after a few moments. “There is no need for me to be afraid. It is just a silly storm. Nothing else.” She stood up and banged on the door again. “Mrs. Grebbs!” The thunder drowned out her voice. “It is no use. No one will hear me with this storm. I doubt they could if there wasn’t a storm.” With a sigh, she leaned her forehead against the cold wood of the door.

  After a long pause, Madeline turned around and spoke again, peering into the darkness. “Spider, are you still there?” A flash of lighting showed that the spider had abandoned its web. Scared for the first time in her life, she sank to the floor and cried. As the hours passed by, she shivered with cold and with fear. Every sound echoed through her. The wind howled and the storm worsened. She could hear the rain slashing against the window and pounding on the rooftop. The thunder was deafening. Huddled against the door, she fell asleep.

  Several times throughout the night Madeline awoke, hungry, thirsty, cold, and scared. When the storm stopped, she tried banging on the door and yelling, but no one came or no one heard. When morning finally arrived, she was sure someone would come to let her out, but no one did. It was a dismal day if the dim light that came through the door and the patter of rain on the roof was any indication. Throughout the day, Madeline waited, hoping someone would let her out. She glanced often to the corner where the spider had been, but it had never returned, leaving her completely alone. Her fear escalated as night came and the rain stopped, leaving her in silence. She shivered. She was cold, afraid, and so alone.

  The moon shined eerily through the cracks of the door. Madeline traced the pattern on the floor with her finger as the tears slowly streamed down her face. No one was missing her. No one cared. Why would they leave her here? How could anyone be so cruel? She was only a little girl. She tried to be brave, but she was so scared and so lonely.

  As the silence stretched on, her tears slowed and stopped. She jumped when she heard the moans and creaks of the house settling, but it didn’t frighten her, at least it wasn’t the silence. She hated the silence more than she did the storm. Oh, why didn’t anyone come? She thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep.

  Madeline gave a start when the door was pulled open, and Nicholas, a boy, barely a man at sixteen, with blond hair and soft, blue eyes, was standing there. “Madeline, we have been searching for you all day.”

  Throwing herself at her brother, she cried. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

  “Maddy, you know you are not supposed to play in the attic. How did you manage to lock yourself in this room?” Nicholas questioned, hoping that one of her pranks was the reason she was locked in an attic room, but knowing it wasn’t.

  Yanking away from him, she yelled and stomped her foot, using the last bit of her energy. “I didn’t! Mrs. Grebbs put me in here because I tore my dress, see.” She showed him her dress. “Please, believe me,” she begged as the tears fell down her face.

  “Maddy, I believe you.” He drew her back into his arms. “How could she do this to you?” Nicholas picked her up and carried her down the stairs to their parents’ room and put her on the bed.

  His parents stood silently as he turned to them. “Your precious daughter has been tortured by your honorable and respectable Mrs. Grebbs. No! Do not say a word,” he cut them off as they started to speak. “I have told you that that woman was mean and was hurting Maddy, but you never listened to me.” Nicholas went to a side table where a tea service was sitting. He poured the tea into a cup and handed it to Madeline. “She spent two days locked in an attic room with no food or drink. Maddy told me that woman put her in there for tearing her dress. Dresses are replaceable, Madeline is not.”

  Madeline gulped the tea down as she silently watched her brother and parents. She had never seen Nicholas so angry or determined, and she was curious as to where this discussion was going.

  Their mother, an attractive, slim woman of medium height with dark blond hair and pale blue eyes, interjected as Nicholas took a breath. “Madeline is lying as usual. She was playing where she was not supposed to be playing and got herself locked in a room, and is now blaming poor Mrs. Grebbs for her misdeed.”

  “Don’t you dare
support that woman, Mother. You don’t know Maddy and you never wanted to know her. She does not lie,” he declared, earnestly defending his sister. “She never lies and she always admits to her pranks or anything that she does. And she didn’t lock herself in that room. How could she have possibly turned a key and put it on the table next to the door where I found it if she was in the room? No, Maddy is not lying, and you will dismiss Mrs. Grebbs and hire someone better, or you will no longer have anything to do with her upbringing. I will see to that.”

  “Young man, how dare you speak to us in this manner,” Elizabeth fumed, stomping her foot in agitation.

  “No, how dare you treat your daughter this way. It is time the two of you take responsibility for your children or let someone else who cares do it. If I have to, Father, I will go to the duke.” Nicholas was disgusted with his parents’ lack of concern for his sister, and all of his siblings for that matter.

  With shame in his green eyes and weak voice, Jonathan Cathcart, a tall, slim, black-haired man stared at his son. “All right son, you made your point. If you are so concerned about your sister’s welfare, then I give you leave to raise her; in fact, you can raise all your brothers and sisters.” Jonathan easily handed off the chore of raising his children to his son, relieved he was no longer going to carry that burden. “But if I, or your mother, feel anything improper occurs, you will do as we say.”

  “Anything improper? What Mrs. Grebbs did to her was improper!” Running his hand through his hair, Nicolas glanced at Madeline then back at his parents, astonished his father would give him the duty of raising his siblings. “Fine, I agree. Madeline needs more to drink and some food. Can one of you manage to have a servant bring something up to her room?” With his father’s nod, Nicholas walked over to Madeline who was watching them intently. He leaned over her, picked her up and carried her to her room, whispering to her that he would never allow her to be hurt again.

  CHAPTER ONE

  1819 London, England

  The man watched Madeline Cathcart enter the house across the road. He despised her, everything she was, and her relationship with Joselyn Parker. He shuddered with rage, flexing the hands he wanted to wrap around her neck and squeeze until there was no life left. He would kill her and he would enjoy it, as he enjoyed all his other kills.

  He had started killing at a young age, beginning with his father. He had reprimanded him one time too many, so he had pushed him down the stairs, breaking his neck. He had killed servants, acquaintances, lovers, friends, and relatives. Every kill was carefully crafted to appear as an accident, natural causes, or suicide. He had no remorse for their deaths because they deserved it, particularly those who believed he was beneath them, like Zachary Parker who had laughed at him when he asked for his sister’s hand in marriage. He hated men and women like the Cathcarts and Parkers. They thought so highly of themselves, putting on airs and assuming they were better than he. Ah, but he enjoyed killing the lords and ladies of England’s elite society, known as the ton, who snubbed him.

  He closed his eyes as the glorious memory assuaged him. He could feel the rifle in his arms, hear the rustling of the leaves on the trees, and smell the forest as he sighted down the barrel at his target. He had taken careful aim and waited patiently for that moment when Zachary Parker, the Baron of Gyffard, pulled the trigger of his rifle, before squeezing his own trigger to ensure the deed was done. The explosion had killed Zachary instantly.

  He slowly opened his eyes and sneered. Everyone believed it had been an accident. Everyone believed Zachary’s rifle had exploded in his hands because of his carelessness. Such fools. Zachary Parker had been an expert rifleman and never would he have made such a mistake. It was a simple thing really. When Zachary had been distracted, he had made sure there would be a deadly explosion.

  Only two people didn’t believe it was an accident. Roger Cummings, Viscount of Dunley, he eliminated easily. He was found dead in the study of his townhouse. It was believed he had died of a weak heart. The idiots, the man was only twenty-six and in good health. It was so easy slipping the poison into Cummings’ favorite cognac. He suffered before he died, gasping for breath, desperately trying to call out for help. It was a joy to see such a respected man reduced to nothing.

  The other one, she was in that house grieving for her brother. Like Zachary, she thought he was beneath her, and for that, she would die a long, slow death, but first, he would marry her, and take away everyone and everything she held dear. He would enjoy killing her friend, Madeline Cathcart, the daughter of a powerful duke. The vivacious, young woman was invited to every gathering, and if she didn’t arrive, the gathering was considered a failure. How he hated her. First, however, there was the matter of Joselyn Parker’s family. He hated them most of all.

  Unaware of the deep hatred for her emanating from the man across the street, Madeline Cathcart accepted the cup of tea Beatrice Parker offered her. “Are you sure someone actually murdered Zachary, Joselyn?” Madeline studied the features of one of her close friends, Joselyn Parker. She felt great sadness for Joselyn and the losses she had suffered over the years. Madeline admired her strength of courage to go on with her life, despite all the tragedy that surrounded her.

  Joselyn Parker, age twenty, was tall and very slim with high cheek bones and a long, straight nose. Her red hair and dark brown eyes complemented the fair complexion of her lightly freckled skin. Although she could not be considered beautiful, she was a stunning, young woman and she knew it.

  Joselyn met Madeline at Joselyn’s first ball. She had been nervous and shy because it was her first season. The only person she had known there was her brother, Zachary. She had spent most of her childhood at the country estate with her great aunt and brothers. She didn’t want a coming out and she didn’t want a husband. She argued with her brother for days. She had money, she could take care of herself, and she didn’t need a husband were her arguments, but to no avail. Her brother still had his way and there she was at a ball, feeling out of place and underdressed in her simple, pink, muslin gown.

  Madeline had seen her sitting alone in a corner appearing painfully uncomfortable. She had invited Joselyn into her small circle of friends, and ever since, they had been close. Madeline had taught her to have confidence, how to deal with the men and women of the ton, how to engage in useless small talk, and how to plan and execute the perfect party. Madeline was still better than she at social events, but she could hold her own. Joselyn preferred the country, but every season she came to London to visit Madeline and satisfy her brother’s wish for her to find a husband.

  Three years had passed since Joselyn’s first ball, and this year was no different than the last. She still had no intention of finding a husband, but now her brother was dead and she needed help. Like always, she turned to Madeline, knowing she would have a solution.

  “He was an excellent hunter,” Joselyn exclaimed, answering Madeline’s question. “I will never believe he accidentally killed himself, and neither do I believe that Roger Cummings, Lord of Dunley, died of natural causes. Besides, Aunt Bea received a note yesterday which we believe was meant for Jeremy. Perhaps this will make you believe me.” Joselyn passed the note to Madeline.

  Madeline took the note and read it: “First the brother, next the sister. Comply or she will die.” Madeline glanced up at her friend. “This does not prove that someone is trying to kill you, Joselyn. Maybe it is only a cruel joke,” she said, knowing that this was serious.

  Madeline studied her friend and wondered why anyone would want to hurt her. Joselyn rarely had a bad word for anyone, unlike her. It wasn’t that she was unkind, but she felt if someone needed a dressing down, she had no compunction doing it. Madeline was terribly protective of her family and friends. She supposed she got that from her oldest brother, Brandon; however, she was never very protective of herself. She was always getting into mischief, acting impulsively without thought to the consequences. She would purposely defy her brothers, such as going shopping witho
ut an escort, or do silly things like putting a live frog in the soup, scaring her younger sister, Deirdre.

  Madeline was twenty-two and she was not demure or petite like her sister, and she certainly did not consider herself pretty. She knew others did, but the only thing she liked about herself were her big, green eyes tipped with long, thick lashes and her long, pale blond hair that had a touch of curl to it so she didn’t have to use the iron. She wished she could be tall and slim like Joselyn, but she wasn’t, and she had to learn to live with herself. In her opinion, her hips were too round, her breasts too large, her skin too pale, her mouth too wide, and her body too short. The humor in all of it was that Joselyn wished she was more like Madeline. She thought it strange that women were never satisfied with themselves.

  Sighing, Madeline gazed back at the note. If Joselyn was right and this note was serious, Joselyn and her family were in real danger. This was one situation in which she didn’t know how to help. Perhaps her brothers would know what to do. “Joselyn, this note is signed A. Farrington. Do you know who this is?”

  “Not personally, but Aunt Bea has heard of him.”

  “I am afraid I have. It was years ago when most of our family were massacred,” Joselyn’s elderly great aunt, Beatrice, stated, believing that was all she needed to say on the matter.

  “What has that got to do with A. Farrington?” Madeline prompted the once shrewd woman, who was a much older version of Joselyn and whose faculties were beginning to fade.

  “Twelve years ago, Aaron Farrington, the Marquess of Brumley, was accused of killing our family and servants prior to the arrival of guests for a ball, but it could never be proven. I believe he intends on finishing the job.” Aunt Beatrice casually took a sip of her tea.

  “Are you sure it is him and not someone else who is trying to scare you?” Madeline questioned, hoping to find some clue as to who sent the note. She was not completely sure that it was Lord Brumley who sent this note. He was a prominent Marquess and a respected member of Parliament. It was serious business accusing him of murder. She wondered if someone wasn’t using his name to mislead the Parkers.