The Shadows: Regency Romance (Ladies, Love, and Mysteries)

by Joyce Alec

  “And of course, Miss Seymour,” he murmured, seeing the lady smile at him as he wrote his name down. The lady had a good few spaces, he noted, seeing Lord Lustrum’s name in two of them. Following suit, Stephen wrote his name for the country dance and the quadrille, smiling back at his new acquaintance as he let her dance card go.

  “You are both very kind,” Miss Seymour murmured, her cheeks now rosy pink as she looked back at Lord Lustrum. “I look forward to our dances later this evening.”

  “As do I,” Miss Hawkins added with a quick smile in his direction. “Might I enquire as to the health of your brother, Lord Stephen?”

  His own smile died away almost immediately. “There is no particular improvement,” he told her, seeing how the light in her eyes began to fade. “He is between sleep and unconsciousness.”

  “Then he has not said anything?” Lord Lustrum asked, interrupting the conversation. “Not at all?”

  Stephen shook his head. “Not a word,” he answered sadly. “I have longed for him to awaken and to say even a single word to me, but he has not even opened his eyes. The doctor says that he is to be so for a time until his body has recovered a little more, but I find it very difficult to see him in such a state.”

  “Of course,” Lord Lustrum sympathized, putting one hand on Stephen’s shoulder for a moment. “That must be very trying indeed.”

  Miss Hawkins nodded slowly. “I pray that you will soon find your prayers for him answered,” she said softly. “Now, if you will permit me to change the subject and pull you away, Lord Stephen, I would like to introduce you to Lord Bentham.” Her eyes held his for a moment, a seriousness within them now. “He is just to your left and he and I are soon to dance, so what better time to make such an introduction?”

  All other thoughts flew from his head as Stephen turned his attention to this as yet unknown Lord Bentham. “Yes, of course,” he stammered, resisting the urge to turn his head and look over his shoulder at the gentleman. “If you would excuse me, Lord Lustrum.”

  Lord Lustrum nodded, his eyes fixed on Miss Seymour, who was now smiling back at him shyly. “But of course,” he said, seemingly quite distracted by the presence of Miss Seymour. “Miss Seymour and I are to dance soon, I think, so I shall quite contentedly remain here.”

  Stephen nodded and turned away, following Miss Hawkins, who took only a few steps to his left, and then quickly curtsied. The gentleman in question immediately bowed, his tall, thin frame bending forward like a reed in the breeze. He was so skinny that Stephen feared he might break in half should he attempt to bow any lower.

  “It is not quite time for our dance, Miss Hawkins,” Lord Bentham laughed as Miss Hawkins smiled back at him. “Am I to be flattered by your eagerness?”

  “I fear not,” she replied, and Stephen saw the smile fade just a little from Lord Bentham’s face. “I came to introduce you to an acquaintance of mine.” She gestured toward him and Stephen bowed quickly, seeing the slight confusion on Lord Bentham’s face as he bowed in return. “This is Lord Stephen Paxton, brother to the Marquess of Atherton.”

  “Very good to make your acquaintance,” Stephen told him, a little surprised when the gentleman’s face paled somewhat. “I do hope that this is not an intrusion, but I did come to speak to you about—”

  “How fares your brother?”

  Lord Bentham’s voice was tight, his words clipped and his eyes a little angry.

  “He is not yet improved,” Stephen answered slowly, wondering at the anger in Lord Bentham’s eyes. “You are acquainted with him, I think.”

  Lord Bentham’s jaw worked. “He was quite insistent on purchasing the townhouse,” Lord Bentham said, shaking his head and completely ignoring Stephen’s question.

  “I do not blame anyone for what has happened,” Stephen responded steadily, wondering if Lord Bentham was worried that Stephen now intended to remain and argue with him about the sale of the house. “But I did want to know what you thought of the rumor that has been a part of that house for so long.” He watched Lord Bentham closely, taking in the sunken cheeks, the dark circles around the fellow’s eyes, and the hardness within the grey orbs. There was a sense of deep unhappiness about the gentleman, he considered, and part of him began to worry that there was more to the rumors about the house than he had first realized.

  “That townhouse is cursed,” Lord Bentham said eventually. “My father bought it some years ago. The rumor was rife then, just as much as it is at present, but he was unafraid.” One shoulder lifted. “We lived there for some time, Lord Stephen, without any particular difficulty, but it was not until my father decided to throw a Christmas ball that things began to change.” Clearing his throat, he spread his hands. “My mother did not want him to do such a thing, for fear that the rumor would be proven true.”

  “The rumor that the owner will die in unfortunate circumstances?”

  “At the first ball he throws there,” Lord Bentham confirmed, adding to what Stephen already knew. “And it was as the rumor said. My father was struck down at the start of the Christmas soiree. I can still remember my mother screaming furiously and how my father slumped across the table, his eyes open and unseeing.” A shake ran through Stephen’s frame as Lord Bentham looked at him with dull eyes. “The doctor said that it was nothing more than a weak heart and too much exertion, but I am afraid I did not believe it. Your brother knew this but insisted on purchasing the house. The house I had been unable to sell for years and years.”

  “You had been trying to sell the house for some time, then?” Miss Hawkins asked as Stephen tried to regain his composure. “And no one purchased it from you?”

  Lord Bentham let out a harsh laugh. “With the death of my father and the rumor so widespread, I wanted to be rid of the place. But I could find no one willing to purchase it.”

  Miss Hawkins put a gentle hand on Lord Bentham’s arm and he started violently, as though he had forgotten she was there.

  “So the staff remained there for many years?” she asked, sounding a little confused. “Even though they were not needed?”

  Lord Bentham let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “As foolish as it may sound, Miss Hawkins, I wanted no recollection of the death of my father, but I knew very well that should the staff be asked to find new positions, it would be more than a little difficult for them to do so. After all, the rumors and the gossip about the house and my father were still rampant some years later, running through London like a good wine, lapped up by everyone.” Sighing, he put one hand to his forehead. “I myself looked to see if I could find them a new position, but everyone rejected the suggestion of taking on staff from that house.”

  “It is as though they carry a curse also,” Miss Hawkins said with a heavy sigh. “To the eyes of the ton, I mean.”

  Lord Bentham turned to her, looking at her with an obvious sense of admiration. “That is it precisely, Miss Hawkins,” he said quietly. “Therefore, in order to ensure that none of them were treated unfairly, I have allowed them to remain at the house and their positions were included in the sale of the house.”

  Stephen blinked in surprise, even though Miss Hawkins did not appear to be in any way surprised. Did she already know of this? He had thought that his brother had simply hired a new complement of staff for his new townhouse, but had never once considered that they might have already been within the house.

  “Then that speaks very highly of you, Lord Bentham,” he found himself saying, as Lord Bentham looked away from Miss Hawkins and back toward him. “To be so considerate of your staff is not something that every gentleman would do.”

  “The death of my father was not their fault,” came the swift reply. “Therefore, I would not blame them or have them carry any guilt or consequences.”

  Stephen said nothing for a moment, considering things in silence. Lord Bentham said nothing either, looking at Stephen with quiet reflection whilst Miss Hawkins remained quiet.

  “And my brother knew all of this,” Stephen sai
d heavily, and Lord Bentham nodded. “And he still wanted to purchase the house.”

  “He did,” Lord Bentham answered faintly. “And I will not pretend that I tried to dissuade him, Lord Stephen, for I did not. I was so relieved to have the house taken off my shoulders that I gave your brother a very reasonable price.”

  Stephen smiled tightly. “I am sure you did,” he said with a shake of his head. “And it does not surprise me about my brother. That is the very sort of thing that he would do.”

  Miss Hawkins pressed her lips together for a moment and then took a small step closer to Lord Bentham.

  “Might I ask, Lord Bentham, if you were acquainted with Lord Atherton before he purchased the house?” she asked, and Stephen realized this was the very sort of question he himself ought to have considered. “Or was your acquaintance simply because of the house?”

  Lord Bentham hesitated and something in his expression caught Stephen’s attention. He did not know what it was but there was something in the way Lord Bentham’s gaze darted away from Miss Hawkins as he spoke that suggested there was something more to his answer.

  “I knew of him, of course,” Lord Bentham said slowly as Stephen began to frown. “But I was not well acquainted with him.”

  Miss Hawkins’ smile was kind. “Then you must not blame yourself in any way,” she told him as he darted a glance back toward Stephen. “For I do not think that anything here was your doing.”

  The orchestra began to play and Stephen felt an instant sense of loss as Lord Bentham immediately seemed to brighten, turning to Miss Hawkins and holding out one hand.

  “Shall we dance, Miss Hawkins?” he asked with a good deal of grandeur, as Miss Hawkins smiled up at him warmly, leaving Stephen wishing that such a smile would have been given to him. “This dance is ours, I believe.”

  “It is,” she answered, throwing Stephen a quick look. “Do excuse us, Lord Stephen.”

  “But of course,” Stephen said with a wave of his hand that he prayed was not either too dismissive or too forced. “I thank you for your honesty, Lord Bentham. It has been very helpful indeed.”

  The gentleman did not reply but rather held Stephen’s gaze for a moment before turning away, Miss Hawkins on his arm. Stephen watched them go with a growing sense of envy, even though he, too, was soon to dance with Miss Hawkins. As the music began to play and the couples started to dance, Stephen frowned as he recalled the slight hesitation in Lord Bentham’s answer about whether or not he had known Lord Atherton prior to the sale of the house. Was there something that he did not want to make known? Or was it merely a question as to how little he had known Lord Atherton?

  Stephen did not have a chance to consider more, for a sudden, loud scream ripped through the center of the ballroom, filling his heart with a fierce, lurching fear as memories resurfaced of the screams after the attack on his brother. Stumbling forward, the orchestra coming to a stop, he was met by Lord Bentham hurrying from the floor, half pulling Miss Hawkins with him. She was white as a sheet, her eyes huge and one hand pressed hard against her heart.

  “Good gracious!” Stephen exclaimed, looking down at her and feeling a sense of horror rising within him as he saw the blood running down the length of her arm and soaking into her glove. Fumbling for his handkerchief, he pressed it lightly against the injury, making her wince and pull away, but he persisted. The music began to start up again, as though the rest of the beau monde cared very little what had just taken place, although there were still a few long looks and whispered words. Perhaps they had not seen what he had, perhaps they had not noticed the blood. “What happened to you, Miss Hawkins?”

  She blinked rapidly, her hand pressed against his as he held the handkerchief against her arm. “I—I am not sure,” she stammered as Lord Bentham wrung his hands. “I was taking a turn about the floor, near to the edge of the room, and then something…. something flashed and instinctively I put my arm up and….” She stared up at him, her face bloodless as though she was trying to work out what had happened.

  “I did not even see what had happened until Miss Hawkins screamed,” Lord Bentham said, as though this was just as much to do with him as with her. “We were dancing near the corner of the room and all I could see were some vacant chairs with no one within them.” He shook his head and rubbed at his forehead. “Everyone was dancing, I suppose.”

  Something within Stephen told him that there was something sinister about this, something dark and dangerous. Instinct told him to wrap his arm about Miss Hawkins and take her away from the ball at once, but knowing he could not take her unaccompanied, he was forced to look to Lord Bentham for help.

  “I must take Miss Hawkins to have her arm cleaned,” he told him, looking at the gentleman and seeing how pale he was. Evidently, the man had been quite shocked with what had occurred. “Might you ask our hostess if there is a room we could use? And thereafter, look in the corner of the ballroom just in case there is anything that might give us a hint as to how this happened.”

  Lord Bentham stared at him for a moment or two, taking a deep breath before he finally nodded his head. “Yes,” he muttered, raking one hand through his hair. “Yes, of course. Yes.” Muttering something under his breath, he turned and made his way through the ballroom in search of their hostess, leaving Stephen to deal with Miss Hawkins. He realized that she was shaking violently and put one arm around her waist, leading her toward the edge of the ballroom where some chairs were sitting, waiting for them.

  “You must rest,” he said softly, helping her into a chair whilst never once removing his hand from her arm. “I will find someone to help you in a moment, once Lord Bentham has—ah.”

  Much to his relief, Miss Seymour hurriedly approached them, her face drawn and her eyes wide.

  “Miss Seymour,” he said with relief. “Miss Hawkins has been injured. We must find someone to look at her arm once our host has given us a room.”

  Miss Seymour nodded, her eyes fixed on Miss Hawkins. “I saw you hurrying from the floor,” she said, speaking directly to Miss Hawkins. “Are you quite all right, Miss Hawkins?”

  Miss Hawkins looked at her friend, shaking just a little but clearly attempting to smile. “I am in a little pain,” she said, speaking honestly. “I do not know what happened.”

  Stephen pressed his lips together tightly, his jaw working furiously as he looked out at the other guests. Someone had attempted to injure Miss Hawkins, it seemed. Someone here. Someone present this evening—and he had no idea why. To see her stumbling from the floor, her glove soaking red, had utterly horrified him, but to feel so helpless, so confused, and now so lost was all the more frustrating.

  “We can take her to the parlor.”

  Lord Bentham appeared just behind Stephen, breathless and with a footman in tow. “This footman is to give us whatever we require.”

  Stephen nodded, turning around to see Miss Seymour linking arms with Miss Hawkins as they stood. “Lord Bentham,” he said firmly. “You know the area of the ballroom you and Miss Hawkins were in.” He held Lord Bentham’s gaze, seeing the man nod. “Then you must return there and look over it all very carefully, just in case there is anything there that might give us a hint as to how this happened. Then join us in the parlor.”

  “Of course.” Lord Bentham turned to speak to Miss Hawkins for a moment, who was now very pale, before scurrying off to do as Stephen had asked.

  “Come, Miss Hawkins,” Stephen murmured, taking Miss Hawkins’ other arm and leading her through the ballroom, glaring at anyone who dared look at her. “We will soon have you settled.”

  8

  The pain in her arm was growing steadily, although Julia made no sound of complaint as Lord Stephen slowly pulled off her stained glove. She bit her lip instead and looked away as Lord Stephen leaned down to look at it a little better, not wanting to see the red gash on her arm which was now resting on top of a thick cushion so as not to stain her gown.

  “It is not too deep,” Lord Stephen said, the re
lief obvious in his voice, as Miss Seymour rubbed her back sympathetically. “It looks like a knife wound to me.”

  She shuddered. “A knife?” she repeated hoarsely, having no understanding why someone would wish to slash out at her with a blade. “But why?”

  Lord Stephen said nothing but looked up at her sharply, as though she knew why someone would do such a thing and was merely choosing not to tell him.

  “I do not understand,” Miss Seymour said softly, looking at Julia with wide eyes. “You were dancing and as you took a turn about the floor, someone attempted to injure you?”

  Closing her eyes, Julia let out a long, slow breath so that fear would not take a hold of her. “It must be as you say,” she said faintly. “I cannot think as to why.”

  “Whoever it was must have been quite desperate,” Lord Stephen said as the door opened behind her. “To slash out at you in such a public manner speaks of a frantic anxiety.” He looked at her steadily, his green eyes swirling with unspoken emotion. “But why would they do so? What is it that they want to prevent you from doing?”

  Mrs. Law, who by some miracle was not in her cups, came closer to Julia, accompanied by a maid and a gentleman with a bag in his hand. The maid was carrying a tray which Julia saw contained a bowl of water and a few cloths. This meant that the gentleman in question must be a doctor, Julia realized, waving Mrs. Law into a chair with her good arm, seeing that her companion was close to fainting. No doubt the lady was afraid that what had happened to Julia would be reported back to Lord Steele and that she would then lose her position. There would be no real concern for Julia’s injury.