Winterset

by Candace Camp

He let out an inarticulate roar, his hand coming up and back, as though he was preparing to strike her with the knife. But he stopped himself and stood for a moment, looking at her wildly.

  “It is him!” he shouted, whirling around and pointing at Reed’s recumbent form. “He is why you act like this!”

  He thudded down onto his knees beside Reed, raising his hand. With a shriek, Anna threw herself at him, grabbing his knife hand and pulling back with all her strength. Cursing, he rose and turned, trying to fling her aside, but Anna clung to his arm tenaciously, sinking her nails into his wrist. He howled with rage and clumsily cuffed her with his other hand.

  His blow made her head ring, but Anna held on, screaming, hoping that Kit or Rankin might hear her and come to her rescue. He yanked one of her arms from his wrist, but by the time he removed the other, she had grabbed his wrist again, and so they struggled. From the corner of her eye, she saw Reed’s legs twitch, and hope surged in her. She struggled on with renewed strength.

  She could see her attacker’s eyes grow dark with rage, the insane light burning brighter, and he let out a howl of frustration. With a burst of strength, he flung her away from him, and she stumbled backward and fell onto the ground. Before she could get up, he threw himself at her, raising his knife.

  “Let her go!” a voice bellowed, and the next instant, a man barreled into her attacker, knocking him off Anna.

  The knife went flying off into the grass, and the two men grappled, rolling across the grass. Anna scrambled to her feet, staring at them in amazement. “Uncle Charles!”

  The other man landed a hard hit on her uncle’s chin, knocking his head back, and then he rolled out from under him, but her uncle lunged at him, hitting her attacker around the knees and toppling him over again. Anna looked around for something to use as a weapon and spied the fallen club lying beside Reed. She ran to pick it up and turned back to the fight.

  Her uncle was on the ground on his back, the killer straddling him, his hands around her uncle’s throat. Anna ran to them and brought the tree branch down as hard as she could. She intended to hit his head, but at the last moment he dodged, and it cracked across his back instead, breaking in two. He turned toward Anna, snarling, and started to rise.

  At that moment Reed lunged into the scene and brought his hand down sharply, rapping the killer on the head with his own club. The man wavered for a moment, then collapsed.

  “Reed!” Anna launched herself into his arms, and he caught her, staggering back a little shakily.

  “Sorry.” He gave a little half laugh. “I’m not quite steady.”

  “Of course not.” Anna stepped back and looked up into his face. “You’re bleeding. He must have cracked you on the head.”

  She dug into her pocket for a handkerchief and pressed it against the wound on Reed’s temple. Blood streaked the side of his face and neck.

  “I don’t know what happened. I was riding along, and suddenly something fell on me. He must have been up in a tree.” He turned and looked down at his assailant. “Good God. Who the devil is he?”

  “The Queen’s spy,” Anna’s uncle answered. He had gotten to his feet and was standing rubbing his throat.

  Reed looked at him. Hastily Anna said, “Reed, this is my uncle. Uncle Charles, this is Reed Moreland. He bought Winterset.”

  Uncle Charles looked suspiciously at him. Reed reached out to shake his hand, but her uncle backed up, shaking his head. “No. No. Can’t do that.”

  “Uncle Charles doesn’t like to shake hands,” Anna told Reed. She turned back to her uncle. “Thank you, Uncle, for coming to help me.”

  Lord de Winter nodded. “Of course. I saw him before. First I thought he was a demon. I wasn’t sure what was going on. But Gabriel explained it to me. Said he was an assassin sent by the Queen. He was in disguise. I have been searching for him. Then I heard you scream. I knew he was after you.” He turned toward Reed, explaining, “She would be in line, you see, after Kit, if he killed me.”

  “Yes, of course,” Reed answered calmly. “Well, what do you say we see exactly who this chap is?”

  He walked over to where the fallen man lay and bent over him. The mask was tied on, and he had to jerk at it strongly to rip it from the man’s face. He straightened, and the three of them stared down at the man beneath the mask.

  “Miles Bennett,” Anna breathed.

  * * *

  “His poor mother,” Anna said, shaking her head.

  It was the next morning, and she was sitting at Holcomb Manor, pouring tea for Dr. Felton, Reed and her brother Kit. Shortly after Reed had taken off Miles Bennett’s mask, Kit and Rankin had arrived, drawn, as Charles de Winter had been, by Anna’s screams. They had listened in amazement to Anna and Reed’s story, and afterward, while Uncle Charles had returned to his home, Kit and his gamekeeper had helped Reed tie up the squire’s son and take him down to the village to jail.

  Kit had returned to Holcomb Manor after that, but Reed had accompanied the constable to the squire’s house, and he had come to the Manor this morning to tell them what had transpired, arriving right before Dr. Felton.

  “Yes,” Dr. Felton said now, agreeing with Anna’s comment. “I just returned from the squire’s house. Mrs. Bennett was prostrate with grief. I had to give her a calming tincture.”

  “The squire, as well,” Reed said. “They apparently had no idea that anything was wrong with Miles, putting his moods and his locking himself away in his room for hours down to his youth and ‘poetic’ nature.”

  “The Squire assured me that Miles was not adopted,” the doctor went on. “He said that the boy was seized by the notion that he was adopted two or three years ago, but the squire thought he had gotten over the idea. He hadn’t mentioned it recently.”

  “So he could not have been related to Lord Roger de Winter?” Anna asked.

  Dr. Felton shook his head. “Apparently it was just another one of his bizarre notions. It would be easy, I suppose, to say that he inherited his madness from the old lord, but it isn’t the case. Miles’ illness, I think, is merely some sort of perverse fascination with Lord Roger and his misdeeds that mingled somehow with his obsession with you, Miss Holcomb.”

  “Did you know about Lord Roger de Winter?” Anna asked the doctor curiously. “Did you tear out the pages concerning him in your father’s journal?”

  Felton shook his head. “No. I had no idea that he had treated Lord de Winter for anything other than the usual colds and such. I suppose my suspicions should have been raised by the fact that there were no accounts of treating anyone at Winterset for any sort of illness, but it just never struck me.” He shook his head. “My father would, of course, have protected his patients’ privacy, but I cannot believe he knew that Lord de Winter had killed those two people. He would not have helped Lady de Winter to conceal that.”

  Though Kit, Reed and Anna had agreed that the truth must be told about Lord de Winter’s murders, they had not revealed that Nick Perkins had helped Lady de Winter to conceal what had happened. However wrong it had been of him to do so, Anna could not expose her old friend’s wrongdoing. Whatever he had done, he had done out of kindness and loyalty to Lady de Winter, and Anna was sure that he had paid for it many times with his burden of guilt.

  “Did they find anything at the Bennetts’ house?” Anna asked.

  Reed nodded. “Indeed they did. Estelle’s new earbobs, for one thing. Apparently Miles was her ‘gentleman’ friend. They had been meeting in the woods secretly for some time, and he gave her the earrings, then took them back after he killed her. I don’t know whether he planned all along to kill her that way, or if he did it in a rage and then decided to set it up to look like the original murders. Miles has given the constable almost nothing coherent. He is either silent and brooding, or he raves about the ‘Wolf People’ and such.

  “However,” Reed continued. “They found several of the old lord’s journals there, as well as another couple of masks. It seems that Miles had also emulated
de Winter by writing a journal of his own. I imagine there will be more than enough evidence in that to convict him of killing Estelle Akins and Frank Johnson.”

  “Thank goodness,” the doctor said. “This has been such a terrible thing. It will be good for everything to get back to normal.” He looked over at Reed. “Will you continue to live at Winterset, my lord? After all that has happened?”

  “At least part of the year,” Reed answered, and his gaze slid over to Anna. “It is a lovely house, despite the tragedies that have happened in it. And I would like to fill it with new, better memories.”

  “Very good.” Dr. Felton nodded approvingly. “I am glad that you are remaining.”

  “We all are, I’m sure,” Kit added.

  Anna said nothing. She was afraid she could not speak without tears overcoming her. Once the elation of capturing the killer had worn off, she had realized that nothing had really changed between her and Reed. All the reasons why she could not marry him still existed. She didn’t know how she could bear to live with him so close by. Nor did she know how she could bear to have him move back to London, either.

  “Well, I had better get back to the village,” the doctor said, rising. “I imagine I will have twice as many patients as usual, simply to gossip.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Kit said, standing up as well.

  Anna and Reed bid the doctor polite farewells, and he and Kit left the room, pulling the door to behind them. Anna shifted a little uncomfortably in her chair. She had not expected Kit to close the door on them; it was most improper.

  She glanced over at Reed and found him watching her intently. Her heart picked up its beat, and she looked back down at her hands in her lap.

  “Your brother has a purpose in leaving us alone,” Reed told her.

  “What?” Anna’s eyes flew to his face. “What do you mean?”

  “He knows that I am about to ask for your hand in marriage. I already spoke to him about it.”

  “Reed…no. Please.”

  Reed stood up and crossed the room, going down on one knee beside her and taking her hand. “Once again, with the full approval of your brother, I am asking you to become my wife. It is not often that a woman gets asked three times by the same man,” he added, smiling.

  “Reed…” Anna’s voice caught.

  “But I have to warn you, if you refuse me, it won’t be the last time I ask. I intend to keep at it until I wear you down.”

  “Reed, you know I cannot. Nothing has changed.” Anna looked at him with sorrow. “There is nothing more that I would rather do than marry you.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Really?”

  “Yes, of course. I love you. But I cannot—”

  Reed held a finger up to her lips, stopping her words. “Then the de Winter madness is the only impediment? If it did not exist, you would say yes?”

  “Yes! You know I would. But it does exist, and I cannot marry you.” Tears glittered in Anna’s eyes.

  Reed kissed her hand again and released it, rising to his feet. “I want you to talk to someone.”

  “What?” Anna looked at him, confused. “Who? What are you talking about?”

  He simply gave her an enigmatic look and walked to the door. He opened it and looked down the hallway, gesturing with his hand. Anna waited, trying to suppress the spark of hope that was rising within her. She could not let Reed talk her into this, she reminded herself.

  To her surprise, when Reed stepped back from the door, Nick Perkins walked through it.

  “Nick!” Anna stood up, surprised. “I—come in. Sit down. I am surprised to see you.”

  “Yes, miss, I’m sure you are.” Nick came closer to her, twisting his cap between his large hands. He looked highly uncomfortable. “I’ll just stand, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Anna cast a puzzled look toward Reed.

  “I was on my way to see you yesterday when Miles attacked me,” Reed told Anna, coming over to stand beside Nick. “I had been visiting with Perkins, here, about a matter that had come to my mind. You see, after Mrs. Parmer told us about Lord Roger’s insanity, I began to wonder. I went to the cemetery and looked at your mother’s tombstone.”

  “What?” Anna gaped at him. “My moth—”

  “I saw when she was born. It was almost a year after the murder of Susan Emmett.”

  Anna nodded, still looking puzzled. “Yes.”

  “That was after your grandmother locked Lord Roger up in the nursery, after she knew he was mad. I could not help but wonder why Lady Philippa would have been engaging in conjugal acts with her mad husband, a man she knew to be a murderer, a man whose blood she could not have wanted to pass down to another child. It must have worried her terribly, just knowing that her son Charles could inherit his father’s illness.”

  Anna’s mouth went dry, and her pulse speeded up. She could do nothing but look at Reed, hope rising within her.

  “There were some other things that I had noticed when Perkins was talking to us, a certain way he looked. I was curious as to why he had been willing to help your grandmother cover up her husband’s crimes. So I went to talk to him.” He turned toward Nick Perkins. “Perkins has something he is eager to tell you.”

  Perkins did not look as eager as Reed had indicated he was. He twisted his cap and swallowed, then said finally, “His lordship was right. I—I was in love with Lady Philippa. That is why I helped her. I would have done anything for her. She—I—we were together after her husband turned mad. Please don’t think bad of her, Miss Anna. She was the best woman in the world, a sweet and wonderful lady. Her marriage was an arranged one. Her parents had heard rumors about Lord Roger. They knew he was older than her, and a cold man, but they wanted the connection something fierce, so they married her to him, anyway. She—she didn’t know him well enough to know what he was like, and she was an obedient daughter.

  “Well, she found out soon enough. He was a hard, cruel man, and he mistreated her. But she had no choice. She had married him. She stayed with him and tried to protect her son from him as much as she could. But she and I—well, she fell in love with me, just as I did with her. And after she found out what a monster her husband was, she stopped feeling so guilty for not being able to love him or to be the wife he wanted. She—well, the fact of it is, Barbara, your mother, was my daughter, not Lord de Winter’s. You and Kit don’t have any de Winter blood in you.”

  Anna stared at him. Emotions and thoughts were flooding through her at such a rate and in such a jumble that she could not speak. His eyes, she thought. Why had she never noticed before? Nick’s eyes were the same deep blue as her own.

  “We used to meet at the summerhouse. Whenever she could get away,” Nick went on, his nervousness gone now, pushed aside by remembered emotion. “I don’t know if Lord Roger figured it out, or if he just happened to get loose at that moment. But one night he managed to get free of his guards. He somehow slipped the potion that they gave him to keep him quiet at night into the drink of his larger, stronger guard. Then he overcame his valet, knocked him out. He followed Philippa to the summerhouse. Before I got there, he had attacked her, killed her. I came in, and I saw what he had done. We fought, and in the course of our fight, we turned over the lantern. I—”

  He squared his shoulders and looked Anna in the eye. “I killed him, Miss Anna. I killed Lord de Winter. A beam had fallen, and I couldn’t get to Philippa. I had to leave them to burn.” Tears filled his eyes.

  Anna pressed her hand to her lips, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, Nick…”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I never wanted you to know any of this. But when his lordship told me how you was worrying over the idea that you might go mad, well, I saw I’d done wrong in never telling you.”

  “But why didn’t you?” Anna asked.

  “I didn’t know that you had learned about the madness. We’d kept it as secret as we could that Lord Roger was mad. I didn’t think you and Kit would find out. And then, well, I
never was close to your mother. She grew up away from here, and I didn’t know her like I know you. I didn’t realize that she had learned about the madness. Until yesterday, when Lord Moreland told me, I thought your uncle had gone to Barbados. I didn’t realize it had taken him, too. I never dreamed that you were scared of going mad yourself, or that you and Kit were sworn not to marry because of it.

  “You see, thinking that you knew none of that, I thought it was better for you to go on believing that Lord de Winter was your grandfather. I didn’t, well, I didn’t want you to think badly about your grandmother. She was a wonderful woman. And I didn’t think you would like knowing that your grandfather was a common farmer, not a lord. I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me.”

  Anna reached out and took his hand. “I would a thousand times rather that you were my grandfather than Lord de Winter. And I don’t think anything bad about you or Lady Philippa. I understand about love and what it can do to people.” She flashed a sparkling glance at Reed, who was smiling at her, then turned back to Nick. “And I could never be ashamed of you. I’m proud that you are my grandfather.”

  Impulsively, she reached out and hugged him. “I’m so happy!”

  Nick patted her clumsily on the back. “I’m happy, too, Miss Anna.”

  Anna stepped back. She was grinning broadly, even though her eyes were shining with tears.

  Nick smiled back at her and said, “You know, my mother had the second sight, too.”

  Anna stared at him. “Visions?”

  He nodded. “Like Lord Moreland said you saw. Her family always had that gift.” His eyes twinkled as he went on. “There’s some as say that her ancestor was the witch who cursed the de Winters.”

  With that remark, he swung around and left the room. Anna stared after him for a long moment, then turned to Reed.

  “Does Kit know about it? Now he is free, as well.”

  Reed nodded. “Yes. I told him all about it when I asked him for your hand.”

  “That sly fox!” Anna laughed a little waterily, dabbing at her eyes. “No wonder he has been so merry today. I thought it was just capturing the murderer.”