Echoes in the Mist

by Andrea Kane

  Ariana’s head was still reeling with the discovery that her supposedly dead sister was very much alive.

  Vanessa walked forward and lifted Ariana’s chin, evaluating her as one would inspect a fine jewel prior to its purchase. “Are you in shock or merely unwilling to acknowledge your scheme?”

  “My scheme!” Ariana jerked her face away, jolting out of her reverie at the impact of Vanessa’s words. “You have the audacity to interrogate me about my intentions? You who have feigned death for six years and returned only to further torment a man you’ve already cruelly and unnecessarily stripped of six years of his life! Dear God, Vanessa …” Ariana’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and revulsion. “You really are a vicious monster, aren’t you?”

  “That’s enough, Ariana!” Baxter intervened in a warning tone.

  “And you …” Ariana’s biting gaze swept over her brother. “You can defend her? After all she’s done, reappearing after all these years?” Seeing the guilt flash across Baxter’s face, comprehension struck Ariana full force. “You knew,” she breathed. “All this time, you knew she was alive. You let me go on thinking my sister was dead, that she’d been driven to suicide … or worse … when from the first you knew it was a lie! Why, Baxter, why?”

  “You know the answer to that as well as I,” he returned bitterly and without regret. “Trenton Kingsley. He destroyed Vanessa’s life. It gave me great pleasure to destroy his.”

  “She was the one who destroyed his life!” Ariana shot back. “How can you condone that? Good Lord, Baxter, was I so wrong about you? I thought you had some humanity! Have you none?” She stared at her brother as if seeing him for the first time. “Even after brutally accusing Trenton of murder, forcing him to live with the possibility that a woman took her own life because of him, still you weren’t satisfied. You had to blackmail him, didn’t you? Get every damned cent you could out of the situation. Never let it be said that my money-driven brother allowed a lucrative opportunity to escape him.” Abrupt realization dawned in Ariana’s eyes. “Or was blackmail not an afterthought? Was it all part of the original plan? Is that why you both tampered with Vanessa’s journal? To make it as incriminating as possible? Tell me, Baxter, when did you alter the journal? Just prior to Vanessa’s suicide? Did the two of you sit up nights writing her implicating entries … so you could just happen to find the journal a mere day after her tragic and untimely death and twist the knife still deeper in Trenton’s heart? Is that how it worked?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Baxter exploded. “I altered nothing! Everything in that journal was the truth!” He strode forward, seizing Ariana by the shoulders. “I already admitted to you that I took money from Kingsley. And I’ve never tried to hide the fact that I detest the man. Dammit, Ariana, I haven’t lied to you about anything! I’ve only tried to protect you.” He winced at the glaring accusation on her face. “All right, I lied to you about Vanessa. It’s true I knew she was alive. But I had to keep her whereabouts a secret … for her own sake. What if Kingsley had gone after her? Tried to hurt her again? I couldn’t risk it. Everyone had to believe her dead … including you. Besides …” and his tone turned icy, “thanks to Kingsley, she was gone forever. She could never return to England; not after the circumstances that drove her away! If she returned, she’d be ridiculed, shunned, possibly even jailed! While Kingsley would be suddenly hailed a hero, rather than the demented madman that he is! So why should I torture you by telling you the truth? Your sister was lost to you forever. It was best you believed her dead.”

  “You’re still doing it,” Ariana said in amazement. “Justifying your malicious, selfish actions with absurd, fabricated motives and blatant lies. You actually believe what you just said, don’t you, Baxter? You tampered with a man’s life, indirectly killed his father and stripped his family of their honor, and you feel vindicated?”

  “What about what he did to Vanessa?” Baxter demanded, shaking Ariana in frustration. “Don’t you give a damn that he robbed your sister of her youth, her life?”

  “Trenton never even touched Vanessa!” Ariana burst out. “Everything she sacrificed … her youth, her reputation … she brought on herself. And you know it!” Focusing on Baxter’s oblivious expression, Ariana blinked. “You don’t know, do you?” she whispered, the final pieces falling into place. “You really don’t.”

  “Know what?”

  “That the journal entries were indeed devised … brilliantly and creatively, I might add,” Vanessa said calmly. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it to block off any attempt at escape. “But not by Baxter, darling. You should know by now that the formulation of devious plans is not his forté. He executes them splendidly and with great enthusiasm, but the actual planning requires a level of cunning that is mine and mine alone.”

  Baxter released Ariana and snapped around to face Vanessa. “What are you talking about?” He looked so stupefied that Ariana almost pitied him in that moment. “Are you telling me you invented the contents of your journal?”

  “Embellished, darling. Only embellished.”

  “Fabricated,” Ariana corrected. “Every word. Other than the fact that you wanted Trenton desperately and would do anything to get him. Including spreading false rumors designed to coerce him into your arms and eventually to the altar. And when that was unsuccessful, feigning desperation, pretending to be despondent enough to take your own life. That’s how irrationally you wanted him.

  “But you didn’t count on one thing.” Ariana raised her chin proudly, meeting Vanessa’s mocking gaze head-on. “Trenton didn’t want you.”

  Hatred twisted Vanessa’s fine features. “He was a fool … a stupid, stubborn fool. I would have been the perfect wife for him. But he wanted a sweet little virgin. Well, he got one, didn’t he?”

  “Ness … what about all the things you told me?” Baxter asked weakly. “His jealousy, his violence, his rage?”

  “It was all lies, Baxter,” Ariana supplied. “Every last word. Trenton and Vanessa were never intimate—he never even laid a hand on her.” Ariana’s gaze locked with Vanessa’s. “What I still can’t figure out is, why did you come back? Merely to resume your torture? Why now, after six years? … Surely you must have made a life for yourself in France?”

  A bitter laugh. “A life? No, Ariana, not a life. A living hell… one you could never in your wildest dreams fathom. I’m married, darling. To a respected French nobleman … a spiteful, savage parasite. You, on the other hand, are married to the eminent Duke of Broddington, affluent and powerful, seductive as sin itself.”

  “You still want him,” Ariana murmured, incredulous.

  “I don’t want any man!” Vanessa snarled back. “But I’ll be damned if one of them will spurn me and go unpunished! I vowed that Trenton Kingsley would pay for his rejection and pay he did … with years of exile and humiliation. Now, after six years, you come along and suddenly all his agony is erased as if it had never been?”

  “Trenton’s agony will never be erased, Vanessa.” Ariana felt tears of outrage sting her eyes. He hasn’t known a day of peace since that horrible night.”

  “He hasn’t known a day of peace?” Savagely, Vanessa seized the front of her gown, rending it from throat to bodice to expose ugly portions of scarred skin surrounded by a dozen recently inflicted angry red welts. Ignoring Ariana’s shocked gasp, she bit out, “This is agony, Ariana. Not what your husband has endured. This. I’ve lived with torture every day of my life, relinquished more than anyone can ever restore.” She dragged the sides of her gown together. “But I intend to seek vengeance in any way I can. I’ve earned it and, dammit, I’m going to have it!”

  Ariana swallowed convulsively, sickened by the physical abuse Vanessa had suffered. Recognizing the horrifying outcome of her sister’s deceit, Ariana could almost forgive her—almost. “How will driving Trenton mad ease all you’ve endured?” she asked, pity and anger warring inside her.

  “It will ease nothing. W
hat it will do is ensure that I never have to bear it again.” Vanessa inclined her head toward Baxter. “Would you like to fill her in, darling?”

  “Vanessa … you let me believe … all these years … that Trenton Kingsley terrorized you … why?” Baxter’s eyes were damp. “Why?”

  “To ease your conscience, darling.” The pathetic Vanessa of moments ago had disappeared, replaced by the vindictive, regal queen who preceded her. “It was far easier for you to blackmail and ostracize a madman who threatened your sister’s life than a mere suitor who rejected her.”

  “I’ve always hated Kingsley and you knew it!” Baxter protested. “All you had to do was tell me the truth. Dear Lord, Ness …” His voice trailed off. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

  “What difference does it make now?” she snapped impatiently. “The important thing is, now our plan will be that much easier to accomplish. Because now”—she flashed a malevolent smile at Ariana—“we have Ariana to help us.”

  “Help you!” Ariana’s eyes widened. “You’re the one who must be mad, Vanessa. I have no intention of helping you hurt my husband.”

  “I rather think you will.” Vanessa tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Unless you want your husband, rather than a murder suspect, to be a murder victim.”

  Ariana and Baxter gasped simultaneously. “Vanessa, what the hell are you talking about?” Baxter asked shakily. “We never spoke of murder. Our plan was to drive Kingsley insane and have Ariana leave him on those grounds, taking his money with her.”

  “Yes … that is what we discussed, isn’t it? The only problem is, we grossly underestimated Ariana’s touching loyalty to her husband. Obviously, she will never desert him of her own accord, will you, darling?” Vanessa raised derisive brows in Ariana’s direction. “Therefore, a bit of coercion is in order.”

  “Coercion?” Baxter sounded ill.

  “Yes. You see, Baxter, in order for us to permanently enjoy Trenton’s outrageous fortune, we would have to force Ariana to leave him, and then, once the money was in our hands, ensure her silence by having her vanish… for good.” Vanessa sighed. “I, better than anyone, know how difficult and tedious that sort of disappearance can be—unless one truly is dead, of course. The easiest thing, under the circumstances, would be if Ariana really were dead. Then Trenton would be framed and convicted of the murder and you, dear brother, would receive a large portion of his vast fortune as compensation for the loss of your only remaining sister.

  “But just to demonstrate to you both that I still do have a heart,” Vanessa continued, ignoring the horrified looks on both Ariana’s and Baxter’s faces, “I will assure you that I have no intention of killing my own sister. Therefore, that course of action, no matter how effective, is rendered totally unacceptable. See?” she announced, her tone laced with scorn, “I do have a conscience.”

  Neither Baxter nor Ariana replied.

  “In my opinion,” Vanessa concluded, “the best alternative is to have Trenton committed to a lunatic asylum. Then Ariana can freely indulge in his wealth … as can we. That is our best choice.” She turned cold green eyes on Baxter. “You offered to assist me. Now is your opportunity to do so. Convince our sister to write a letter to her husband, stating her fear of his violent instability and begging him to seek help; tearfully advising him that she will otherwise have no alternative but to leave him forever, assuring him that if he agrees to commit himself, she will stand by him until he recovers … and have her add whatever other romantic drivel you deem necessary. Actually, have her write two letters, one to be delivered to Broddington, the other to Spraystone. That way Trenton will be sure to receive it, regardless of his whereabouts. If things go as I hope, Trenton will be committed to an asylum and we will be quite wealthy.” Her jaw tightened. “And with enough money I can make certain Henri never hurts me again.”

  “And if I won’t write the letter?” Ariana demanded. “If instead I go directly to the authorities and tell them of your sick scheme?”

  “Then I’ll kill your precious husband, Ariana.” Vanessa smoothed back her hair. “Remember, a corpse cannot be convicted of murder. And even if I am discovered alive and sentenced for my crime, it would be preferable to going back to Henri. So you see, baby sister, I have nothing to lose.”

  A coldhearted smile touched Vanessa’s lips. “Unfortunately, darling, you do.”

  CHAPTER

  25

  BRODDINGTON SEEMED UNUSUALLY SOMBER, almost as if, during the duke’s absence, a heavy cloud had settled upon its sculptured walls.

  Trenton frowned as he mounted the steps, wondering if the unsettling sensation were only his imagination playing peculiar tricks on him. Lord only knew, it was quite adept at doing that. Still …

  “Quiet, isn’t it?” Dustin verbalized Trenton’s thoughts aloud, scanning the grounds before following his brother through the front door. “At this time of day, Ariana is normally trailing about the gardens, taking notes on various flying creatures. Unless she’s …” He glanced toward the main staircase, silencing the remainder of his thought. If Ariana were nowhere to be found, she was probably in Trenton’s new sitting room, putting final touches on the wall hangings.

  “Unless she’s where?” Trenton jumped on Dustin’s hesitation.

  “Your Grace! I wasn’t expecting you!” Jennings hurried toward them, blinking his beady eyes in distress. “I didn’t receive word you’d be returning today.”

  “I sent no word,” Trenton returned. “On impulse, I decided to return from Wight with the marquis. So you can calm yourself, Jennings. You had no way of knowing I’d be arriving at Broddington this morning.”

  Jennings visibly relaxed.

  “Is the duchess already dining?” Trenton asked, handing Jennings his coat.

  “Why, no, Your Grace. The duchess has been away from Broddington since daybreak.”

  Every muscle in Trenton’s body went taut. “Where did she go?”

  Nervously licking his lips, Jennings sprinted over to the calling-card table in the hallway and snatched up a note. “She left a message for the marquis.”

  “I’ll take it, Jennings.” Quickly, Dustin unfolded the note so both he and Trenton could read it.

  Dustin:

  I’ve thought of little else but our talk and all it revealed. The answers lie at Winsham, and I’ve gone to seek them. This is something I must do alone. With any luck, a solution awaits us. Don’t worry about me.

  Ariana

  “She’s with that unscrupulous brother of hers.” Trenton jerked his coat from Jennings’s hands and slammed back into it. “I’m going after her.”

  “Don’t, Trent.” Dustin grabbed hold of his brother’s arm. “It would solve nothing. Baxter’s not going to hurt her and perhaps she really will learn something. Have a little faith in your wife.”

  After a lengthy silence, Trenton nodded. “All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “But if she’s not back by midafternoon, I’m going to Winsham and bringing her home myself. I don’t trust Caldwell, or his motives.”

  “But you trust Ariana.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then wait.”

  Another terse nod. “Until three o’clock. Not a moment longer.”

  As it turned out, they had only to wait until noon before the message arrived.

  “A letter for you, Your Grace,” Jennings announced in the drawing room entranceway. “From the duchess.”

  “For me?” Trenton scowled even as he strode forward to take the message. “How did Ariana know I’d returned?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, just tore open the letter and began to read. With every word, his expression stiffened, his eyes registering first shock, then pain, and finally anger and bleak resignation.

  At last, with a vicious oath, he crumpled the note into a ball and flung it to the floor, stalking over to gaze out of the window, his back turned to the other men.

  Dustin rose, dismissing Jennings with a swift inclination of his head.
The butler hastened from the room, closing the doors discreetly behind him.

  “What is it, Trent?”

  “Read it yourself.” Trenton’s tone was strangled.

  Dustin scooped up the crumpled page and read:

  Dear Trenton:

  I’m sending you this letter both at Broddington and at Spraystone to be certain that it reaches you. What I have to say is far too important to take the risk of its not finding its way into your hands.

  My love for you is absolute, and will never vacillate or desist. Never forget that.

  These past few days of solitude have given me the opportunity to objectively ponder your behavior and how it affects our life together. You know I’m afraid of you. I’ve told you so more times than I can recount. At first I had only your irrational anger and vengeance to contend with, and perhaps, by themselves, I could have withstood them. But now you’ve become delusional, seeing people who no longer exist, striking out at me as if I were a dreaded enemy—one you mean to destroy.

  I have wracked my brain for a solution to this agony, one that would help you and, at the same time, make our marriage a viable one. What I have decided may sound cold and unfeeling, but I assure you, I do believe it is our only hope; not just yours alone, but ours as well.

  I ask that you commit yourself to an appropriate facility—for a short time only—where you can be among people who are able to help you understand the reasons for your disturbing visions and the mental confusion that has overtaken your life.

  I know that, with the proper guidance, you will resolve your internal turmoil and soon be restored to the fine man you truly are.

  Until you have acted upon my plea, I’ve decided to stay at Winsham with Baxter, for my own protection. I know the fact that I am safe and secure will comfort you greatly. I cannot, in all honesty, claim that I will miss my weeks at Broddington, nor am I eager to return. Without you there, the estate is a shell of a dwelling, reflecting no part of my soul amid its empty walk. Perhaps with your recovery, that will change and we can begin to build a life together, making Broddington a home and breathing vitality into its sterile rooms.