by Jane Charles
Patrick paced before the fireplace waiting for Laura to arrive. If he could have, he would have built the fire so the room would be warm, but it was impossible. He had even reached for the poker before he realized that so much of what he had taken for granted was gone to him.
Why had he professed his love? He could offer her nothing except conversation and a cold touch. Laura deserved so much more.
He paced across the room. Perhaps he should recant his declaration. Claim it was because of the lingering nightmare and the confused state he found himself in. Surely Laura would understand. She may be hurt, but it was better this way. Then she could move on and live a full life, away from here. Married with children.
He groaned and stared out at the barren gardens below. It was the right thing to do, to set her free, but it hurt so much. And no matter what pain it caused to either of them, he had to let her go and stop being selfish. To cling to her would make her life miserable and he would end up in Hell. Was it worth it for a few precious moments they could share?
“Uncle Edmond has given Franklin permission to call on me.”
Patrick schooled his features and faced Laura. He could not let her see how much it pained him to think of her with another man. “He is wrong for ya.”
“Of course he is,” she smiled and walked into the room, closing the door behind her. “He is not you.”
“There will be someone, however.”
The smile fell from her lips. “No, there won’t.”
Patrick took a step forward. She had to understand. “I am dead, you’re alive.”
Laura shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Aye, it does,” he argued. “Ya deserve to know love of someone who is warm, who can hold ya, give ya children.”
“But what if I don’t want those things?”
He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Of course ya do.”
“What makes you so certain?” Laura demanded.
Patrick blew out a breath and stomped away. He could not look at her when he was trying to do what was right. “All young ladies do.”
“I am not all ladies.”
He wheeled on her. “Don’t ya understand? Ya can’t have me. I am dead.”
Laura stepped back at his harsh tone. He regretting yelling, but she needed to understand there was no future for them, even if he remained at Torrington Abbey for all eternity.
“But I love you.” Her voice was barely a whisper and as painful as a dagger to his heart.
“Ya will find someone else to love. Go to London in the spring and meet a gentleman worthy of ya.” It nearly tore him apart to send her away, insist she look for someone else, but it was necessary.
“I won’t leave you,” she cried.
“What if I am no longer here?” He would disappear if necessary. The Abbey was big enough that he could hide from her for weeks. Eventually, she would give up, assume he’d moved on. Then she could return to living her life as she should.
“We have now.”
Patrick studied her. Yes, they did have this moment, and perhaps only a day. Did he really wish to spend it arguing with Laura? He took a step forward and held out his hand. “You’re right.”
She reached out to him and gently grasped his fingers. They were both learning how much pressure they could use to hold without penetrating the fog of his form.
“But promise me that if I disappear for good ya will not wait for my return.”
“Don’t say that.”
He placed a finger to her lips. “I could be gone at any time, we both know that. I need ya to promise me that if I do, ya will go to London and find someone who loves you as much as I.”
She bit her bottom lip and stared at him. “If you promise not to make me go if you are still here.”
Patrick nodded. When spring came, if he still lingered, he would hide. It was only fair and right that he do so. But for the moment, they did have now.
As long as Patrick was here Laura would remain at Torrington Abbey. When the Season came, she would simply explain to him that she had no intention of ever leaving him, no matter how much he insisted. She would rather have his love in this form, than be married to someone she might be able to touch, but left her heart cold.
She and Patrick could have an eternity together, or he could be gone at any time. Neither of them knew why he lingered and she didn’t want to spend the precious moments they had in argument.
Laura locked down the anxiety of losing him and smiled. “What shall we do this morning?”
He took a seat on the chair beside the desk and stared at where his arms rested. “Why can I sit in a chair or lay on a bed without goin’ through, yet I can’t grasp the simplest object?”
“It is rather odd.” Laura pursed her lips and studied him. She hadn’t realized the difference. One would think if he couldn’t hold something, he couldn’t sit on anything either.
“We shall determine a reason eventually, or perhaps these oddities will remain a mystery.” Patrick leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “Where does your story take place?”
“In a dark castle, of course.”
“Of course.” He snorted good-naturedly and shook his head. “I suppose it wouldn’t be much of a horrid novel if the settin’ was in a field of daisies with the sun shining down.” He leaned back, straightening his legs and crossing his ankles before folding his hands over his stomach. “Have ya ever been in a castle?
“No.” Laura’s shoulders slumped. “This is the closest place to an old castle I have visited, but it is simply ancient. There isn’t even a dungeon.”
Patrick straightened. “Ah, but there is. Not as horrible as one might find in a horrid novel, but it could be scary enough.”
She perked up. Excitement bubbled inside. Laura had no idea there was more to the Abbey. “You’ve been to it?”
He laughed “Blake and I explored the east wing and below the Abbey many times when I visited.”
Laura could imagine her brother as a boy sneaking into this section of the Abbey. He was always looking for an adventure at home. Why should his visits to Torrington Abbey have been any different? “Were you looking for the ghost of the former Lord Torrington?” The idea that a ghost lurked would have intrigued Blake. He wouldn’t have been able to stay away.
“Yes, but we never found him.” He smiled sheepishly.
She slapped a hand down on her thigh. “Well, perhaps you will have better luck in this state.” Laura jumped to her feet and grinned. “Why not show me where this dungeon is?”
Patrick cocked his head to the side. “Perhaps this isn’t wise.”
Why was he suddenly reluctant to explore? “Don’t tell me you are afraid,” she teased.
He didn’t return her smile. “Ya will be essentially alone. If it is in ill-repair or if you fall, or are injured, nobody will find ya.”
He was simply being overly cautious. What could possibly happen to her? “You will be with me.”
“I can’t help ya. Nobody else can see or hear me,” Patrick reminded her.
The initial enthusiasm for exploring dimmed. She hadn’t really considered that possibility, but she wasn’t about to be deterred. “You go ahead and if you don’t think it is safe, I won’t enter.”
Patrick’s brows furrowed, his lips pressed together as he stared at her.
“Please?”
With a sigh he came to his feet. “Very well.”
Laura lifted the lamp and stood back so she could follow Patrick from the room. He led her to the end of the hall and opened the door that lead down the stone steps. She held the lamp high so that she could see where they were going. They stopped on the first level.
“There used to be a door here,” Patrick murmured.
She looked over his shoulder. There was a stone outline of a rounded door but the center, where the opening should have been, was bricked in. “I am assuming it led to the back parlor?”
He nodded
and continued. It grew darker and darker the further they went below ground. The musty smell assaulted her and tickled her nose. Laura rubbed the bottom of it to keep from sneezing.
“Nobody has been down here in decades, besides Blake and me.” Patrick stopped when they reached the cellar. She lifted the lamp high, trying to see into the dark expanse. “At the opposite end is a wine cellar. I would have taken ya that direction, but the door is bolted,” he explained. “The other way inside is through the kitchens.”
Laura peered around him, almost merging into his form. “I can’t see anything.”
“The kitchens are below the west wing, on the opposite side of the Abbey. There is a smaller storage room directly beneath it and then the wine cellar.” He stepped into the cellar. “This cellar is in the same shape as the manor, so we would need to wind beneath the east wing and the center of the house before we reached that area.”
“I had no idea,” Laura whispered. Above her head were cobwebs and dust. How many mice had taken up residence down here? She stifled the shudder, determined to be brave. She wasn’t about to let her dislike for rodents keep her from exploring.
“Stay here. Let me look around.”
“Do hurry.” She did hate to be left alone. Blackness lay beyond the illumination of her lamp.
“Do spiders bother you?”
“No,” she lied. In truth she hated them as much as rats and mice, but wasn’t about to admit as much to Patrick.
He continued walking until she could no longer see him. Laura looked about. Even though she was essentially alone, it didn’t feel so when Patrick was with her. A chill ran up her spine as soon as he left her, though, and she fought the desire to flee back up the stairs. Fear crept in along with the surrounding darkness and instead of waiting as she was told, Laura hurried after Patrick. He couldn’t be that far away. Once she was by his side she wouldn’t be as frightened as she was now.
She held the light high so she could see the ground and avoid tripping on anything. Goodness it was dark in here.
Laura stopped and tried to determine her direction. She strained to see into the blackness. She had lost all sense of direction. Was she still moving toward Patrick or away? She turned and could barely make out the steps she had come down. She turned again to follow him.
The darkness engulfed her with each step and she swallowed, trying to tamp down her fear. Thank goodness Patrick was with her or she might get lost in here for good.
A glimmer of light was further ahead and she quickened her pace. Perhaps part of the cellar was above ground, or maybe they were closer to the kitchens than she realized. It became a little brighter with each step.
“Patrick,” she called.
The light ahead almost seemed to dance.
“Hush,” he hissed.
She stopped and took a step back when he appeared out of the darkness, rushing toward her. His face no longer held the teasing smile, but was rigid with determination if the hardness of his jaw was any indication.
Fear and trepidation skidded up her spine.
“You need to get out of here now,” Patrick shouted. “Go!”
Laura’s heart raced. She grasped her skirt and ran toward the stone stairs.
“Hurry,” he yelled.
Her toe caught a stone and she fell forward. The lamp flew out of her hand and crashed against the floor. The flame sputtered and she was left in complete darkness. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. What danger were they running from?
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Don’t speak,” he bit out. “Just nod your head.”
Laura bit her bottom lip and pulled herself up from the floor to her knees
“Are ya injured?” The urgency of his voice only increased her fear.
She shook her head.
“Good, we have to get out of here now,” he yelled with urgency.
She began to push herself up from the floor when a light appeared from behind. Laura glanced back, hoping it was one of her uncle’s servants. Standing above her was the man she had seen in the garden. He grinned down at her, revealing his black, decaying teeth.
“Look what we have here.”
Laura let out a blood-curdling scream while Patrick stood helpless, unable to come to her aid. Would anyone in the Abbey be able to hear her?
The man stood over her and laughed. “Scream all you like.”
Patrick lifted his fist, drew back and hit the man squarely in the nose. The only reaction was a shudder.
“Damn, it’s cold down here.”
“Who are you?” She demanded in a shaky voice.
“Ben Skrewd at your service.” He tipped a non-existent hat and dread filled Patrick. If the man had any intention of letting Laura go he would have never given his name.
Panic welled. Patrick tried to strike the man over and over, but his fists had no more impact than an irritating fly.
“Get up,” the man ordered.
Laura slowly came to her feet then shifted from one side to the other.
“Good girl,” Patrick whispered. “Ya didn’t turn your ankle or hurt your knee in the fall?”
She shook her head, never taking her wide, fearful eyes off of the repugnant man before her.
Patrick slipped his hand into hers and hoped she remembered to keep hold without clasping too tight so as to break their contact. Her fingers curled around his. “When I say go, we are goin’ to run from here. Do not let go of me.”
She gave a quick nod.
“What ya got there, Ben?” someone called from the area of the light.
Ben looked over his shoulder and licked his lip, a sly grin on his face. “A sweet little visitor come to keep us company.”
Patrick’s stomach churned. “Now,” he shouted.
Laura hitched her skirt and followed. He could hear her pants, but she didn’t let go. “It isn’t far,” he assured her.
“Patrick,” she screamed just has her hand was yanked away from his.
Patrick twisted to find Ben holding Laura off the ground, a beefy arm about her waist. A younger man, as filthy and bearded as Ben, stood just behind him, holding a torch.
“Well, well, a nice little prize we’ve discovered, ain’t it,” the younger man said.
Patrick’s stomach nearly revolted at the gleam of lust in both men’s eyes.
“Ye ain’t going nowhere,” Ben said to Laura as he strode away still holding her.
Her eyes pleaded with Patrick to save her. His throat tightened. He had never been more helpless in his life. Why had he agreed to bring her down her?
Tears filled her eyes.
Patrick rushed forward. “I will get ya out of this. If it is the last thing I do, I promise I will keep you safe.”
If only he could believe his own words.
He grasped her hand, offering what comfort he could as Ben carried her to the makeshift chamber at the center of the cellar. By his estimation, they were just outside what would be the entry to the east wing. The firelight would not penetrate the darkness leading to the west wing so anyone going to the kitchens or the wine cellar would never see it. Besides, those rooms had been boarded up long ago, blocking them from the rest of the cellar. How long had these bandits been living beneath Torrington Abbey?
Ben tossed Laura onto a cot covered in rumpled bedclothes. She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest.
“Where did she come from?” a third man, who sat stirring a pot over the fire, asked.
“Found her wandering around down here and I thought we could use the company of a pretty little thing like her.”
“Do we get to keep her?” the man asked anxiously.
Ben laughed. “For a bit, once I decide what we are going to do with her.”
“Be strong, Laura. I will get ya out of this,” Patrick insisted.
“I know you will,” she said with determination. She blinked and the panic was gone from her eyes as her chin notched up.
> “What did you say?” Ben demanded of her.
She simply quirked an eyebrow and shrugged.
Patrick calmed at her show of bravery. He wasn’t sure if she actually felt as confident as she displayed, but if one pretended it long enough they may come to believe it. As long as neither of them panicked, more than they already were, they would think of a way out of this situation. He had to save her before it was too late.
“Do ya know how to hurt a man?” Patrick asked as he settled beside her.
Laura turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”
Ben narrowed his eyes and watched her intently.
Patrick ignored him. Instructing her was more prudent then worrying what Ben thought of Laura talking to nothing. He blew out a breath. “Did Blake ever show ya how to really hurt a man who wished to do ya harm?”
A blush strained her cheeks.
“Then he told ya to kick in the bollocks?”
“With my knee,” she grinned.
Patrick suspected she was considering taking that exact action and would relish bringing Ben to his knees.
“Who you talking to?” Ben demanded.
Laura blinked up at the man. “Patrick.”
The man glanced around, as did his two partners. “Who the hell is Patrick?”
Surprise fell over her face. “You don’t see him. He is sitting right beside me.”
Ben’s mouth fell open and he took a step back. The other two shared a wary look.
Patrick stood. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Patrick Delaney. I suggest you let Miss Laura Chetwey free.”
She giggled.
“Is she daft?” one of the others asked.
Ben eyed her askance. “I ain’t sure.” He backed further away. “Let her sit there a bit and see.”
Patrick chuckled as he returned to his place beside her. “If they think you’re Bedlam-bound maybe they will keep their distance and let ya go.”
“Do you think so?” At least she sounded hopeful. It was better than disheartened.
“It is the only chance we have until I think of somethin’ else.”
He glanced about the room. China, silver and jewels were stacked in one corner and he assumed the items had been taken from houses the three had robbed. Beside that were five saddles, one he recognized as his own. Had these three killed him?