Her Muse, Lord Patrick

by Jane Charles

  Laura set her teacup aside. “Yes, there are.” She smiled. “I hear the green of the island is as vibrant as an emerald and breathtakingly beautiful.”

  Franklin cleared his throat. “I do hear it is lovely.”

  “I plan on visiting in the spring,” Laura announced.

  “What?” Patrick asked in unison with her aunt, uncle and Franklin.

  “Why would you do that, dear?” Lady Torrington asked.

  “Because Lord Patrick Delaney was my brother’s closest friend. The two traveled together and have not returned. If I have received no word by spring, I will travel to Lord Patrick’s family to learn if they know what became of the two of them.”

  “I don’t think that is a good idea, Miss Chetwey,” Franklin said with authority.

  Laura stiffened her spine and Patrick sat back. Apparently, Laura didn’t like being told what to do. It wasn’t so much that Franklin was ordering her about, but his tone was rather condescending.

  “Why not, Mr. Franklin?”

  “You are a young miss and should not travel about. At least not without a worthy chaperone,”

  Her jaw tightened for a moment and Patrick grinned. “I will be one and twenty, old enough to make my own decisions,” she responded firmly.

  “Think on this, Laura,” her aunt begged.

  She eyed her aunt. “I have and I am determined. I will travel to Ireland if no word of Blake has been received.”

  Franklin gaped at her, and Patrick crossed his arms over his chest. He had no fear of Laura succumbing to this man’s charm. Even if she did, it would be Laura who ran that particular household. What lady wanted a husband whom she could boss around and rule over? Not that one should rule the other, but a wife deserved a strong husband, one who supported and loved her without bullying her to do his will, and took charge without lording over his wife. Laura wouldn’t be ordered about by anyone and he rather liked that. She was no simpering miss, which made him want her all the more.

  Laura stood at the threshold, willing herself to remain calm and rational. Franklin was a nice man, but he wasn’t for her. Not only was he condescending and pompous, but he wasn’t Patrick.

  “I would like to call on you again, Miss Chetwey.”

  She simply nodded and bit her tongue because her aunt seemed so happy with the prospect.

  “Perhaps it will be warmer and we could stroll through the garden,” Franklin suggested.

  “My niece does not leave this house,” her uncle ordered. “Not until those cutthroats are found.”

  Franklin straightened and looked to Uncle Edmond. “Have they been here?”

  “Yes,” he grumbled. “Footprints have been outside of the Abbey, but we have not caught anyone yet.”

  Franklin pulled his coat close and looked out the window.

  “It will be dark soon, Mr. Franklin,” Laura reminded him. “Perhaps you should return home.”

  “Yes, an excellent idea.” The man hastened to the door. “I will call on you in a few days.” He practically bolted out of the house and Laura bit back a grin before returning to the parlor where her aunt waited.

  “He is such a delightful young man,” Aunt Ivy said with a sigh.

  “Please, do not think to match me with him.”

  Her aunt blinked. “Why ever not?”

  “We would never suit,” Laura said firmly. Even if Patrick had not come into her life, she would not be interested in Mr. Franklin.

  Patrick lounged against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and nodded in approval.

  “Please, have another cup of tea with me, Laura,” her aunt begged.

  She glanced back at Patrick. As much as she wished to be with him, Aunt Ivy was lonely. Anyone could see that. Now, she couldn’t even go into town to visit her friends, and Laura doubted anyone would chance venturing out here.

  Patrick sauntered across the room.

  While Aunt Ivy poured more liquid into her cup, he bent and kissed her neck. “I will leave the two of ya alone. I suddenly feel the need to rest.”

  His words startled her and she looked at him. Patrick disappeared for hours last time he rested. His voice was weak, almost distant. His form was also fading. He wasn’t leaving was he? Not again? He’d come back before, but . . .

  “What are you looking at, Laura?”

  She blinked and paused to invent an excuse. “I was just looking out the window to the weather. I hope it doesn’t grow too dark before Mr. Franklin arrives home.”

  Patrick wandered from the room and gave Laura a quick nod before he ascended the stairs.

  She remained with her aunt through dinner. Uncle stayed in his library most of the time and spent very little time with his wife. Though Laura enjoyed her peace and being alone, such an existence might drive her mad over time. Then again she hadn’t really been alone for the last few days, not that anyone else knew that, other than Patrick.

  She longed to tell her aunt of Patrick’s ghost but knew the woman would not believe her. What if they locked her out of the east wing and sent for a doctor? That would never do and Laura was fairly certain she would not like living in Bedlam. Instead, she held her tongue and made polite conversation as her aunt informed her of their plans for the coming spring. It had been as she suspected. Her uncle was going to see that she return to London and with any luck, find a husband.

  Laura sighed as she climbed the stairs. She hadn’t the heart to tell either her aunt or uncle that she had no intention of going to London, at least not at the moment. Everything would depend on if Patrick remained with her and what news she learned of Blake. As much as she wanted Patrick to become more real, she also feared him disappearing if she found her brother or if Patrick remembered what he was to tell her. She also fully intended to travel to Ireland and not for the reasons she stated earlier. She wanted to meet Patrick’s parents, brother and sisters. To hear their stories and perhaps gaze upon a portrait. It may be all she was left with in the end.

  The writing room was empty. Instead of working on her novel, Laura made her way to her chamber, covering a yawn behind her hand. It had been a long day, and she had slept fitfully the night before.

  She glanced about her chambers, but Patrick was no here either. She had to trust he was resting, though why he disappeared when he did, she did not understand. The last time he had been gone for twelve hours and she could only pray he returned again.

  A small part of her worried she might never see him again, yet another part knew that when she woke in the morning he would be there. She held onto that belief as she prepared for bed and slid between the cool sheets.

  Patrick struggled, pushed and twisted, but he couldn’t get free. It was hotter than before. Flames licked at his skin. His mouth was parched and he was finding it difficult to take a breath. Foul odors he could not identify surrounded him and he turned his face one way and then the other, but there was no escape from the stench.

  “Laura,” he screamed, but she did not answer.

  Voices surrounded him. Low and hissing, and he couldn’t understand. They spoke a language unfamiliar. Were they demons? Had he finally descended fully into Hell? Were they souls, trapped as he was?

  He tried to open his eyes, but it was so dark and smoky, they burned. Lights flickered off the walls and around him. Patrick squeezed his eyelids tight. Did he really want to see where he was? Hearing, smelling and feeling was bad enough.

  “Laura,” he screamed again, not certain if anyone could hear him.

  He had to get away from this heat, break free of the confines. He had to get back to Laura. His heart raced with panic and with a yell he surged forward.

  “Patrick.”

  He jerked awake and turned to the soft voice. He reached out to pull Laura close, to hold onto her, but his arms went right through her. He fell back on the bed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He had been in Hell and managed to escape twice. Would he manage it again if pulled back? Panic surged through him and he tried to block out what he remem
bered. If anything, he needed to make what time he had left on Earth right. No more cursing, no more lusting after Laura, only thinking and doing good, and pray. He needed to pray, a lot. He could not go back to Hell.

  “Patrick, are you all right?”

  He blinked up to find Laura hovering over him, her golden hair falling about him in loose curls. What he wouldn’t do to be able to feel their silkiness just once.

  No, stop thinking in that way. Such thoughts led to lustful ones and he was not returning to Hell.

  “Patrick?” she asked again. Concern marred her brow and worry showed in her warm green eyes.

  “I am fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine,” she said slowly. “What happened?”

  Patrick stared at her. He couldn’t tell her that he had been in Hell because once he was gone for good, she would worry that he was spending eternity there. Even if he were lucky enough not to return, he would never be able to assure her otherwise, and he was going to do everything in his power not to go back to Hades. “I had a bad dream.”

  She frowned. “Ghosts dream?”

  “Apparently.” He tried to make light of the situation.

  “Do you remember anything about it?”

  Everything, not that he would tell her. “Why?”

  “You called my name just as you came back.”

  Laura is what kept him here. Without her, he may not have returned. But what would happen when he had fulfilled whatever was required of him? Would he leave for good? He shuddered at the possibility. As much has he wanted her to know why he needed to be here, he didn’t want to remember.

  Patrick closed his eyes and sighed. Such a selfish attitude would surely see him returned to Hell. He must try and remember, no matter what it may cost him in the end. “I would rather not speak of it.”

  She nodded, though the concern did not disappear from her features. “Did your dream at least help you remember anything before you arrived here?”

  “No.” She had to be deeply worried for her brother. If one of his sisters had been missing for months he would be mad with concern. He wouldn’t be holed up in an abbey, but searching to the ends of the Earth. But, Laura was a lady and not offered the same opportunities as he would have been. It must kill her not to know what had happened. He had to remember, for her sake far more than his.

  “Why are you in my bed?” she asked after a moment, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “It is more comfortable than that too-short settee in your writin’ room.”

  “It is also the bed of an innocent young miss,” she reprimanded.

  “Ya weren’t usin’ it and I assumed I would rise before ya returned to your chamber.”

  She giggled.

  “What do ya find so humorous?”

  “I’ve not even known you a week, and we are on far more intimate terms than would have ever been allowed had we met before…”

  “I died,” he finished since she could not.

  “Yes,” she bit her bottom lip and looked down.

  “The ton would be scandalized, but I would do right by ya,” he said softly.

  “How so?”

  “If I were alive, I wouldn’t be waitin’ for Blake but demandin’ your hand.”

  A small smile pulled at her lips. “I know better, Lord Patrick Delaney.” She flounced from the bed, her nightdress flowing behind her. “You and my brother had no intention of marrying for quite some time.”

  “It was easy to make such a claim when I hadn’t yet met ya.”

  Laura gasped and turned to him. “Do you truly mean that?”

  Patrick rose from the bed and slowly walked toward her. He placed his hands over hers. “Miss Laura Chetwey, if it were in my power, I would marry ya today.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes.

  He had never been one to speak from the heart, and had never found himself in a position to do so before, but he needed to at this very moment. “I know we believe I linger because of whatever message I have for ya, but I think it is more.” He lifted his hand to caress the softness of her cheek. “I believe we were destined to meet, but it happened too late.”

  She blinked and a lone tear trailed a path down her cheek.

  “I love ya, Laura, and I wish I could have met ya the moment ya stepped out of the schoolroom. I would have swept ya up and never let another gentlemen know of your existence.” He leaned in and bushed his lips across hers. “I would have known the moment I saw ya that ya were meant to be mine.”

  She sniffed and smiled sadly. “I love you too.”

  Her declaration should bring him joy, but it only produced pain of what he would never know.

  Laura jumped at the scratch at her door.

  Patrick nodded and stepped back. “I will leave ya to your morning toilette and await you in your writin’ room.”

  Panic surged. It was too soon for him to leave. Not after such a declaration. She wanted to pull him back and have him hold her close, but that was impossible. What if he stepped out that door and she never saw him again?

  “I promise to not leave.” He brought his fingers to his lips and blew back a kiss, exiting the room as Laura’s maid entered.

  “What is amiss, Miss Chetwey?” Janie asked with concern. “You’ve been crying.”

  Laura swiped away her tears. “It is nothing. I am simply worried.”

  “I know what you mean, with those ruffians being so close to the Abbey and all.” Janie placed the chocolate on the table beside the bed and added a few more pillows behind Laura once she settled back on the bed. “Why, I barely slept a wink these past two nights, certain they would break in and murder us in our beds.”

  Laura stared at the young woman. Goodness, she hadn’t believed the men could get inside after her uncle posting so many guards. But, what if they did break into the Abbey? She peeked between the bed and the table. The fire iron was still there. She sleep with it until the bandits were caught.

  “Why don’t you enjoy your chocolate while I gather your clothing?”

  Laura settled back in the bed and sipped. She and Patrick’s relationship was certainly odd, if not scandalous. If he were alive, Patrick would have never been allowed to be alone with her, especially in her chambers, or to take the liberties he had done. Yet, none of it felt wrong. As a matter of fact, it felt entirely right. He belonged with her as if he were a part of her.

  “Here you go, miss.” Janie placed a light green woolen day dress on the bed. “This color always looks lovely on you.”

  “Thank you.” She rose and began to prepare for the day. After breaking her fast she would return to the east wing. As much as she adored Aunt Ivy and felt sorry for her loneliness, Laura didn’t want to be parted from Patrick longer than necessary. They may not have much time and she didn’t want to waste one moment they could spend together.

  She paused in the hall. What if they were meant to be together for eternity? Was it possible Patrick would remain with her until her time on earth came to an end? Was it a mistake that he died too soon and that was why he lingered? What if it had nothing to do with remembering what happened to Blake?

  “Laura dear, are you coming?”

  Her aunt waited at the foot of the stairs. “Yes.” She shook the thoughts from her head and descended the stairs.

  If Patrick remained as long as she, would her aunt and uncle mind that she never moved from Torrington Abbey?

  When they entered the breakfast room, Uncle Edmond was already seated, the paper folded beside his plate. Had he already read it this morning?

  “Good morning,” he greeted. “I have sent to London for soldiers and word on Blake’s ship,” he announced. “I don’t expect to receive news before the week is out, so until then, I still don’t want anyone to leave the Abbey.”

  “Were more footprints founds?” Laura asked.

  “Not this morning,” her uncle sighed. “But we must remain diligent.”

  Laura had no wish to leave anyway, and no desire to come face to face wi
th the man who had been prowling in the garden. A chill ran down her spine. “I hope they catch those men soon.”

  “Me too,” dear,” her aunt echoed the sentiment.

  A plate of food was placed before Laura and she noted that for the first time there was no herring. Thank goodness someone had finally listened to her. Not only could she not stand the taste, the smell made dining unpleasant as well.

  “Mr. Franklin has asked if he could court you, Laura.”

  She nearly choked on her eggs at her uncle’s announcement.

  “Of course I gave him permission. He is a fine gentleman from a good family. He owns a small bit of land outside of town where he plans to build a home.”

  Laura swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her uncle seemed so pleased she didn’t have the heart to tell him Franklin was of no interest to her. “What does he do?”

  “He is a goldsmith and jeweler, like his father.”

  “Mr. Franklin has some of the loveliest pieces of jewelry in his cases.” Her aunt nodded excitedly as she spoke.

  Apparently, her aunt and uncle weren’t going to wait for the Season to marry her off.

  “Of course, if it doesn’t work out with Mr. Franklin, we will travel to London in the spring.”

  Laura blew out a sigh. At least they hadn’t already contracted the marriage.

  “He will be by on the morrow,” her uncle informed her as he rose from the table.

  Not once did he inquire if she wished to be courted by Franklin. He only assumed she was in agreement. Or, perhaps she had no say and her uncle would decide for her. At least Blake had asked her opinion when gentlemen asked. Her aunt and uncle were not going to give her the same consideration.

  She had to find a way to discourage Franklin. She couldn’t marry him or anyone else. As long as Patrick remained here, so would she, but she couldn’t explain that to anyone.

  “I have such high hopes, Laura,” her aunt said brightly. “If you and Mr. Franklin make a match then you will be living close and we can visit often.”

  She s nodded, not sure what to say. Close was not here.