Angel in Black

by Fela Dawson Scott

  “Does all this please you, Catherine?” asked Lawrence when he entered the sitting room. Catherine Ramsey stood at the large double windows and continued to watch the scene outside, a satisfied smile on her face and a glimmer of joy in her eyes.

  “Yes,” she giggled. “It pleases me to see Katrina Easton groveling on her knees.”

  “On her knees … yes. Groveling? No, not Katrina.”

  A dismayed frown puckered Catherine’s face, her lower lip pouting like a child. “What do you mean, not Katrina? Just look at her.”

  She was tired and cranky from the long ride and Catherine’s anger surfaced easily. “Look at her! Her face is swollen and bleeding and she is covered with bruises and scratches. She looks positively horrid. No one could stand up under so brutal a beating, not even that witch.”

  Lawrence lifted an eyebrow in amusement, knowing the jealousy and hatred Catherine bore Katrina. “I must admit, I have never known a woman with so much courage. It is a shame she must die.”

  Catherine rushed over to stand in front of him, her face fearful. “You are not going to back out, are you?”

  “No, never,” yelled Lawrence, the force of his answer causing Catherine to jump and instinctively back away. “I have more reasons to want her dead than you, my dear. Her existence is a continuous threat to my own. No one — I repeat, no one, will take Camray from me.”

  “Are you certain no one will question her death?’ Catherine asked, uncertain about her part in this whole affair.

  Lawrence sighed and, for a second time, or maybe a third, explained to ease her fears. “Of course not, my dear. She is legally wed to Randolph, and it is his right to bring her home, by force if need be. Katrina made it clear to everyone — including the King — she was not a willing participant in their marriage. Add to that the gossip you spread about her illicit affairs, not to mention her torrid and public relationship with Blake Roberts, and it’s easy to prove she has humiliated my son to the point of disgrace. It is only natural he would be angry, and we can bear witness to her prodding and taunting him unwisely. It is not surprising he should beat her, after all no man would tolerate her whoring ways. And, when he attempts to finally, and rightfully consummate his marriage, she is killed. A truly terrible, unfortunate accident — but a man can only take so much from an insolent wife.”

  Catherine smiled sweetly again, almost purring with contentment. “You are so right, Lawrence, darling. Who would possibly question such a wronged husband?”

  Another thought occurred to her; her forehead wrinkled in perplexed thought. “What about her bastard? Surely, you cannot allow him to live?”

  “He will be taken care of in time. First, we must take care of Katrina Easton, once and for all.”

  Randolph crashed through the front door and literally dragged Katrina behind him. He swung her off balance onto the floor near Lawrence and Catherine who now stood in the doorway to the hall. She sprawled in a heap at their feet, her nightdress barely covering her. Despite her state of undress and humiliation, Katrina lifted cool, amused eyes to them.

  “Well, well,” sarcasm rang heavy in each word Katrina drawled, staring up at Catherine. “I am not surprised to see you here. After all, you are a low, vile creature, much like these two cowards. I guess it is true animals seek their own kind.”

  Catherine screeched, her face turning as red as her hair. She leaped at Katrina, her nails ready to claw the smile from her face. Katrina twisted away and Catherine slipped and landed awkwardly on her back. Lawrence was quick to drag Catherine from Katrina, but she managed to dig her sharp nails into Katrina, scoring bloody marks into her bare shoulder.

  “You little whore,” screamed Catherine, fighting to free herself from Lawrence’s steely grasp.

  Katrina scampered to her feet just as Catherine twisted free and lunged toward the woman she hated so much. Katrina clasped her tied hands together and brought them up, clipping the unprepared Catherine on the chin, sending her flying back into Lawrence’s arms. Randolph’s fingers wrapped around Katrina’s elbow like a vise and he spun her about to face him. His anger out of control, his hands clamped about her throat, his face twisted and distorted into an ugly grimace.

  “Kill her,” Catherine screamed, hysterical.

  Randolph’s fingers dug into her flesh, painfully blocking her breathing. She kneed him and broke his deadly grasp when he doubled over in pain. Katrina attempted to get past him, but his arm snaked out and wrapped about her waist jerking her off her feet. With her hands tied and her feet dangling in the air, Katrina found herself unable to move. Firmly locked in his crushing hold, she stopped struggling, deciding it best to conserve her energy.

  A low rumble of laughter tickled her ear as Randolph whispered, “Shall we go upstairs to the privacy of our room?”

  He kept an unyielding grip on her and climbed the stairs, his laughter ringing throughout the house. When they entered his room, he let Katrina go and locked the door. She carefully watched him, and stepped out of his reach while calculating her chances of escape.

  As if reading her mind, Randolph sneered, “There is no way out, witch.”

  Slowly, he stalked his prey, taking great pleasure in the chase. Katrina put the bed between them, but he easily jumped across it. He missed her but grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back to him. With a growl he threw her onto the bed and dropped on top of her.

  Randolph’s lips nibbled her bruised neck and scratched shoulder, shivers of revulsion coursing through her from each touch. He jerked her tied hands above her head, and held them with one hand while the other freely roamed. When his lips captured her own, she twisted and wriggled, her legs kicking and thrashing about. Katrina snared his lower lip between her sharp teeth, ripping the tender flesh. Randolph yelled angrily and punched her in the ribs, twice before he managed to get free. Holding his bleeding lip, he bellowed in pain and rolled off.

  Katrina immediately brought her elbow around, landing a blunt blow to the middle of his chest and knocked him from the bed. In seconds, she was up and running for the door, her numb fingers trying to turn the key. Just as she succeeded to unlock it and pull the door open, Randolph’s arm shot out to slam it shut. He lifted Katrina from the floor and violently threw her against the wall, her head slamming into the fine wood with stunning force.

  Stars and streaks of light whirled about her as blackness threatened to take her. Her knees went weak, and slowly, she sank to the floor. Randolph’s threats filtered in through the haze, pain like daggers driven into her skull as she fought to remain conscious.

  “You’re going to die, bitch, but first I’m going to fuck you. Long and hard, and every which way I can. In the end, you will beg for me to end your miserable life.”

  Katrina heard her nightgown rip and the sharp intake of his breath as his bulging eyes roamed over her nakedness, the hunger in them clear despite her fogged mind. Her anger surfaced through the blackness engulfing her and her vision cleared. Randolph opened a nearby drawer and retrieved a long, narrow leather strap from it. He smiled in anticipation, an evil glint in his dark eyes. When the strap snaked out, Katrina tried to crawl from its stinging bite. The onslaught was relentless, the blows falling again and again. There was no escaping his cruelty and she huddled on her knees as he continued to bloody her back unmercifully. Finally, he threw the strap aside and pulled Katrina to him.

  “No,” Katrina screamed when she realized his intention to mount her from behind. She twisted about, snarled and kicked like a wildcat, forgetting the fire burning her lacerated skin. One foot landed squarely in the middle of his chest and sent him sprawling onto his back.

  Still on her knees, she scampered away from Randolph, but he managed to grasp one foot in his steely hand. Slowly, he pulled Katrina back to him and desperately she felt about the floor for something, anything, finding a handful of ashes from the fireplace. She could hear Randolph’s cruel laughter as he agonizingly worked his way up her leg and thigh until he could grasp her hi
ps and pull her beneath him.

  Katrina twisted and threw the ashes in his face, temporarily blinding him. He released her and she shoved him away, stumbling to her feet. It was as if she had run for miles, her breathing ragged as she searched the room for a weapon, her gaze coming to rest on the fireplace poker. From the corner of her eye she saw Randolph wipe the ashes from his eyes and turn toward her. She dove for the poker at the same time he jumped for her, his hand catching her just as Katrina grasp the cold iron in her hand.

  With a sudden surge of strength, she swung the weapon with deadly accuracy and landed a crushing blow across his temple. Katrina could not move; she only stared at the lifeless form at her feet, his hand still wrapped about her ankle. Finally, when her breathing evened and her heartbeat calmed, she kicked the hand free from her and struggled to stand. She dropped the bloody iron to the floor — he was dead.

  Katrina squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think. Her head pounded fiercely and there was no part of her that did not hurt. Her thoughts raced, she tried to figure out what to do. Lawrence would follow her — he’d want to kill her more now, once he discovered she killed Randolph. Pain shot through her and quivering knees buckled. On her knees she stared at her dead husband and came to a quick decision. She would need some time to regain her strength.

  “If I ride north, away from Camray, Langsford will follow,” she whispered aloud, the sound of her own voice calming her frayed nerves. “I will lead him away from the village, and, most important, further away from my son. I will wait until I am strong enough to face him, and then he will die.”

  As she talked, Katrina got to her feet again and started to rummage through Randolph’s things until she found a knife to cut the ropes from her wrists. Though the process was awkward and slow, she finally managed to get free. She found a shirt in the large wardrobe in the room and pulled it on, wincing from the burning pain crisscrossing her back.

  Katrina left the room and made her way through the halls, hauntingly familiar to her as memories floated into her dazed mind. Using the servants’ back entrance, she made it outside unseen, and went directly to the stables.

  Unbeknown to Katrina, she had been spotted by a servant working in down the hallway from Randolph’s room. Quickly the woman ran to the stairs and signaled the butler before silently returning to her work. The word was carefully passed among a small group of faithful servants, each originally employed by Lord Easton. Like guardian angels, they diverted anyone who might betray her flight and kept a watchful eye on Lord Langsford and Lady Ramsey, each having retired to separate chambers to rest. Orders had been given for no one to disturb them or Randolph until late afternoon, no matter what they may hear or see. So obeying their orders, they did not bother to inform the master of Camray of Katrina’s disappearance. What may have happened to Randolph, no one cared to find out.

  Katrina entered the cool darkness of the stables and looked about, surprised to see no one around. She started for one of the stalls to get a horse. A wagon rattled into the yard and stopped directly in front of where she stood concealed in the shadows. She held her breath and prayed for it to leave. The driver stepped down and went to the back end, fiddled with the baskets thrown in the back. Katrina heard him speak, without turning in her direction.

  “You had best get in, Missy, I will be takin’ you home t’ Jenny now. Be sure an’ cover yourself with the tarp, so as no one will see you.”

  “Missy?” Katrina muttered in disbelief, the gray head bobbing in a familiar way. It was Sid. Only Sid and Margo called her Missy; Margo, her nanny, and Sid, the stable master. Quickly, she crawled onto the bed of the old wagon and covered herself as he said. The wagon slowly rumbled out of sight of Camray and Lawrence Langsford.

  Once out of hearing, Sid hollered back to his charge, “Are you all right, Missy?”

  Katrina noted the tremble in his voice and was touched by his concern. “No need to worry about me, Sid. I’ll be fine.”

  Sid nodded. “I hope you killed him, Missy. not just for what he done t’ you, but for what he’s done t’ many an innocent lass. Randolph’s a cruel one, Lady Katrina, the devil himself. But I suppose you discovered for yourself what a bastard he was?”

  Katrina’s heart went out to all the good people of Camray, having to bear their brutality all these years. “Randolph Langsford will not hurt anyone again, Sid.” The words were reassuring to the old man, but Katrina knew there remained another Langsford to contend with.

  Sid drove as carefully as he could manage; the road and old wagon conspiring to jolt Katrina every which way. She bit her lip to keep from crying out; not wanting to alarm the older man. When they neared Tattershall Katrina asked him to stop.

  “I will walk the rest of the way, Sid; I’m sorry to put you in danger for bringing me this far. We were lucky I was not seen with you, but we must not take a chance by going any further. The fewer people involved the better. “

  A loud “humph” escaped from Sid and he helped her from the wagon. “You needn’t worry ’bout this ol’ man, Missy. Langsford will ne’er know it was me who helped you. We were all careful.”

  “So,” Katrina smiled, “you all made sure I didn’t blunder into someone. I thank you all, and someday, I hope to repay you for your kindness.”

  A tear slipped down his leathery cheek and he climbed back onto the wagon seat. “You take care of yourself, Missy. God bless.”

  He slapped the reins lightly and the horses continued down the road, the dull, plodding of their hooves growing quiet in the distance. Careful not to be seen by anyone, Katrina made her way to her cottage and knocked softly on the door. Jenny opened it, and anticipating her reaction, Katrina quickly muffled her scream and entered the house. Immediately, she was smothered by the portly woman’s affectionate hug, a cry of agony escaping Katrina at the old woman’s happy embrace.

  Jenny pulled back in fear and her lip trembled when she studied Katrina’s swollen and bruised face, traces of blood still on it.

  “Oh, dear God,” muttered Jenny, close to hysterics, tears running down her face.

  Katrina put a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder and pleaded with the woman. “Please, Jenny, I need your help and I have no time for tears and pity. Do not break down on me now.”

  Jenny tried to calm herself and took a deep breath. Resolutely, she pulled herself together and asked, “What must I do?”

  “I killed Randolph.” The words Katrina muttered were calm, but they struck pure terror in Jenny. “Lawrence and Catherine Ramsey will report the murder, so I must go away. I cannot stay here.”

  Confusion and fear battled inside of Jenny and she trembled from emotion. “I don’t understand. He did this t’ you?”

  Katrina nodded and Jenny exclaimed hotly, “Then he deserved t’ die! It was not murder.”

  “He claimed the rights as my husband. Lawrence will make it look as if I deserved to be beaten, since everyone knows I’ve denied Randolph my bed. You heard him, Jenny. I still have no proof to claim he murdered my parents and arranged my kidnapping. To a court, what I have done will be murder.”

  Jenny wrung her hands in distress but agreed. “I will get Jake.”

  “No,” Katrina stopped her. “Jake mustn’t know I am here. You must help me, Jenny. No one else can know.” Katrina paused and lifted sad eyes to Jenny. “Johnny?”

  “Achh! He’ll be fine, honey. You know it would take more than a bullet t’ stop him, but he is not goin’ t’ like what you are doin’.”

  Slowly, Katrina lowered herself tiredly onto a chair. “I think it would be best if he did not see me this way.”

  She understood what Katrina meant and reluctantly agreed. Jenny busied herself with preparations but after a moment she turned to Katrina, who sat at the table with her head lying on her arms. “I’ll brook no argument from you, Rina, but if you are t’ leave quickly, I be needin’ help. I’ll be right back with Maggie and Rita. You know they will say nothin’.”

  Before she coul
d object, Jenny was gone, and in minutes she bustled back with the other two women. Together they set about preparing Katrina for her long trip, neither woman saying anything about her obvious beating. A bath was prepared, and Jenny started to remove the shirt, turning pale when the rest of Katrina’s injuries were revealed. Never before had the woman seen a body so bruised and battered, cuts and scrapes covering her delicate skin. But it was her lacerated back and buttocks that caused one of the women to swoon and the other to turn away. Jenny stood back and covered her mouth to stifle her moan, tears starting again.

  “Ohhh, luv — what has he done t’ you?” Her eyes rounded in fear as she attempted to ask the question in her tortured mind. “D-did … did he …?”

  Instinctively, Katrina knew what Jenny was trying to get out. “No, Jenny. I became his widow before I became his wife.”

  In less than an hour Katrina had been bathed clean of the dirt and blood, and a soothing salve massaged into the cuts and welts. Her hair was brushed free of the tangles, washed, and plaited into one long, neat braid. After a warm, filling meal and a couple of cups of herbal tea to ease her pain, Katrina felt better. A bag was prepared containing food, water, and medicines, along with another containing oats for Blackstar. Once Katrina dressed and her black boots pulled on, she picked up a sword and two pistols and went outside where the stallion stood ready. The three women had done what would have taken Katrina hours to do alone. Still midmorning, Katrina hoped to get a good head start on Langsford, who most-likely still slept at Camray.

  Looking at the women, Katrina said her good-byes. “Jenny, make them understand why I had to leave — tell them I love them both. When I am able, I will send word to you and perhaps you will be able to bring Jason to me.”

  Jenny wondered what Jake and John would do when they found out she was gone. Jenny could not speak for the lump in her throat, so she gave Katrina a gentle hug, her eyes saying everything for her.