by Anna Bradley
The mystery of the White Lady had been laid to rest, yes, but what of the other secrets, the nightmares hidden inside the stone walls of Darlington Castle? Only Cecilia knew the truth of what Lady Leanora had done. How could she tell Gideon his beloved wife and child had been sent to early graves by his brother’s mad wife?
As gently as I can, one word at a time.
Cecilia drew in a deep breath. “You knew about Isabella all along? That she wasn’t your brother’s daughter?”
Gideon dragged a hand through his hair. “Yes. Isabella doesn’t look a thing like my brother, but she does bear a striking resemblance to Darlington Castle’s former steward.”
The hazel eyes.
“If Isabella had been a boy, I’ve no doubt Leanora would have tried to pass him off as the heir. Nathanial knew everything, of course. He was hardly at Darlington Castle at all in the month Isabella was conceived. It didn’t matter to him—he loved her with all his heart—but all the love in the world won’t save Isabella from scandal if the truth of her birth is revealed.”
Cecilia thought of Isabella’s bright eyes, her lively mind, and sunny smile, and her heart sank in her chest. It broke her heart such a beautiful, loving child as Isabella should suffer for her heartless mother’s sins.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cecilia asked quietly, trying to hide her hurt.
“I’ve never revealed Isabella’s secrets to anyone, Cecilia. Only Haslemere knows the truth. Isabella will bear the brunt of Leanora’s betrayal of my brother, and now she’ll be made to bear the shame of her mother’s madness. I thought only of protecting her.”
“From me, Gideon? You thought you had to protect Isabella from me?”
Gideon flinched at the question, but he met her gaze. “I know you’d never hurt Isabella, but I also know you’re keeping secrets from me, Cecilia. You’re no housemaid, are you? You didn’t come to Darlington Castle to polish silver and scrub floors. Even so, I still trusted you with my own secrets. But I couldn’t trust you with Isabella’s when I don’t know who you really are.”
His words tore into Cecilia, claws raking across her heart, but what could she say in reply? Weeks ago, when she’d first arrived at Darlington Castle, Gideon had called her a liar, and he was right. As much as she’d grown to love Isabella, she had no claim on her secrets.
When she didn’t answer, Gideon turned toward the window, away from her. “Leanora has always been selfish and unpredictable. She was a spoiled belle when she and Nathanial first married, and over the years she’s grown more unstable, and more volatile. I knew she was unbalanced, but this…I never imagined she’d go this far.”
“But you did suspect she’d come back someday.” Cecilia pushed the words through numb lips. “That’s why you turned the sitting room into Isabella’s bedchamber, and put Amy in there with her. To protect Isabella from Lady Leanora.”
“I thought Leanora would try and take Isabella away from me, yes. Not because she wanted her. Isabella has never been more than a means to an end for Leanora. She would have ruined her if given the chance.”
The thought of Lady Leanora having control over Isabella chilled Cecilia to her bones. “Is that why you sent her away from Darlington Castle? To protect Isabella?”
“I never sent her away. A few weeks after Cassandra’s death, Leanora came to me demanding money so she could escape Darlington Castle for a new life as a merry widow. I agreed to give her the funds she demanded, but only if she left Isabella behind with me. A few months later, she was betrothed to Aviemore, and I hoped we’d seen the last of her. God only knows what’s happened to him.” Gideon’s blue eyes were bleak. “Leanora didn’t put up much of a fight over leaving Isabella.”
“She didn’t come back for Isabella. She’s been roaming freely through the castle since she returned to Edenbridge. If she’d wanted Isabella, she could have taken her at any time.” Cecilia swallowed. “She came for you.”
“As if I could ever…she was my brother’s wife, and Leanora expected me to…” Gideon’s hands clenched into fists. “Leanora never gave her daughter a second thought. Her own child. All those months I lived in fear she’d take her from me, but she never wanted Isabella.”
A half-sob tore from Cecilia’s throat at the despair in his voice. She reached for him to caress his cheek with her fingertips, but he flinched away from her. “Tell me about the secret passageway.”
Lady Leanora’s body had been found outside the locked stillroom door, her fingernails torn and bloody from clawing to get out. “One end of it lets out into the dressing room in Cassandra’s bedchamber. From there, she could get anywhere inside the castle. I kept wondering why the door between Isabella’s and Cassandra’s rooms were always unlocked, despite your orders. Leanora must have had a key.”
Gideon braced his arms against the windowsill, his head dropping down between his shoulders. “This would have broken Nathanial’s heart.”
“All those vicious rumors, all those lies about the Murderous Marquess.” Cecilia knew Leanora was responsible—she’d said so herself—but even so she could hardly believe anyone could be so hateful. “How could she have done such a thing?”
“Far more easily than you’d ever imagine.” Gideon turned to face her, a bitter laugh on his lips. “I know what Leanora is. I’ve always known. As soon as I knew she was the White Lady, I should have realized what she was capable of. God knows what she might have done, who else she might have hurt—”
“You tried to stop her, Gideon. You and Lord Haslemere spent every night for weeks searching the grounds for her. This isn’t your fault.” Unable to stop herself, Cecilia rushed to him and took his face in her hands. “Leanora’s madness, the things she did…how could anyone imagine she’d go so far?”
“How far did she go, Cecilia?” Gideon took Cecilia’s wrists in his hands and jerked them away from his face. “Her madness may have ended with the fire, but it didn’t begin there, did it?”
Cecilia choked back the sob that rose in her throat. She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to be the one to put this ugliness in his head, but Gideon deserved to know the truth. “No.”
“Cassandra, and my son. Did she…did she hurt them?”
Cecilia pressed her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of smoke, ash, and burnt wood that clung to him. “Yes.”
He went still, not speaking, hardly seeming to breathe, but then he took her shoulders in his hands and eased her away from him so he could look into her eyes. “Tell me all of it.”
Cecilia gazed up into his wounded blue eyes, and knew she was about to break both their hearts. His, because he’d blame himself for Cassandra’s death, and hers, because she’d broken his. But she hadn’t any choice. “Isabella pointed out some flowers to me, growing against a back wall in the kitchen garden. She said they smelled like her Aunt Cassandra. I thought it was lavender, but it had a strong scent of spearmint. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it.”
Gideon nodded, but his face was white. “Go on.”
“The night I got locked in the kitchen garden—I didn’t go out there to fetch my sketchbook. I went because of a conversation I had with Mrs. Briggs. She told me Cassandra couldn’t eat during her illness, that she could only take a little broth and some spearmint tea.”
“Spearmint tea? No. I gave her broth, but I never brought her spearmint tea.”
“No, you didn’t.” Cecilia pressed her palm to his face to make him look at her. “Lady Leanora did.”
Gideon shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Leanora detests sickrooms. She never went near Cassandra during her illness.”
“She did, Gideon, but no one in the castle knew it because she entered Cassandra’s bedchamber through the hidden passageway.”
“Spearmint tea, stolen keys, and secret passageways?” Gideon tried to pull away from her. “It sounds absurd, like somethi
ng you’d read in a Gothic horror novel.”
Cecilia held him fast. “Listen to me, Gideon. Until today, you didn’t know the secret passageway was there, did you?”
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “No.”
“No. No one did, not even Mrs. Briggs. There was no reason you should have known unless you’d grown up at Darlington Castle. Then you might have discovered it. But Leanora was mistress of the castle for eight years, and occupied the marchioness’s apartments. No doubt she stumbled across it then.”
Gideon stared down at her, and his face twisted with pain. “Why would Leanora sneak through a secret passageway to give Cassandra spearmint tea?”
He knew the answer already, but he was fighting so desperately against it his entire body was shaking. He didn’t want to know this secret, didn’t want to have this knowledge in his head, or his heart. But ignorance wouldn’t lead him to happiness or forgiveness, only more darkness.
“It wasn’t spearmint tea, Gideon,” Cecilia whispered. “The plant I thought was lavender wasn’t lavender at all. It was pennyroyal.”
“Pennyroyal?” He laughed, but it was a desperate, pleading sound. “You mean the herb Mrs. Briggs uses in the salve that soothes insect bites? Well, what of it? It’s harmless enough.”
“Not to ladies who are with child, Gideon. It brings on bleeding, and can be used to…” Cecilia swallowed, wishing with everything inside her she didn’t have to say it. “To expel a child from the womb. I-I believe Leanora was brewing it into a tea, and giving it to Cassandra.”
He stared down at her in horror, then jerked away with such violence Cecilia stumbled forward a few steps. “You can’t know this for sure, Cecilia. That day in the kitchen garden with Isabella, you told me you didn’t know anything about flowers and plants.”
“After Mrs. Briggs mentioned the spearmint tea, I went into the kitchen garden and picked the pennyroyal,” Cecilia said, struggling to stay calm. “The next day, after we…after you left the castle, I searched through a copy of Culpeper’s Complete Herbal in your library until I found the illustration that matched the plants I’d picked.”
Gideon said nothing, but he backed away from her as if afraid she’d try and touch him again. Cecilia followed him, unable to choke back the truth any longer. “I already suspected Cassandra had been poisoned, even before Mrs. Briggs mentioned the spearmint tea.”
His shoulders stiffened. “How could you?”
“I found Cassandra’s diary on the bottom shelf of her clothes press.” It occurred to Cecilia to tell him about Seraphina, and the unusual way in which she’d led Cecilia to the diary, but strangely enough, it felt private, as if she’d be betraying Seraphina if she did.
Or perhaps not Seraphina so much as…Cassandra.
“You read my wife’s private diary?”
The shard of ice in his voice pierced Cecilia’s chest and lodged in her heart, but she and Gideon were long past denials now. “Yes. Her description of her illness seemed strange to me. I became convinced she’d been poisoned, and once I found the secret passageway, I realized Lady Leanora must have done it.”
Gideon’s face was as blank as a stone, and the blue eyes that had looked at her with such heat just hours before had turned as cold as ice. “Who are you? You’re no ordinary housemaid, that’s certain. Is your name even Cecilia Gilchrist?”
Cecilia twisted her hands in her soot-stained skirts. This was the moment she’d been dreading, but there was nothing for her to do now but face it. “My name is Cecilia Gilchrist, but I’m not a housemaid, and I didn’t come here from Stoneleigh. I live in London, at the Clifford School, with Lady Amanda Clifford. Lady Clifford is—”
“I know who Lady Clifford is, and I know what she does.” Gideon’s voice was hard, flat. “She sent you to Darlington Castle to prove I’m the Murderous Marquess all of London believes me to be.”
It hadn’t been as simple as that, but Cecilia didn’t try and explain herself. “She sent me to find out how Lady Cassandra died. My task was to uncover the truth before your marriage to Miss Honeywell could take place.”
If anything, his eyes grew even colder. “So, I was right about you that first day we met. You are a liar.”
Cecilia’s eyes dropped closed, pain pressing down on her, stealing her breath. She knew the worst of his anger and bitterness wasn’t truly directed at her. He was in shock, exhausted and devastated by the fire, and heartbroken over his wife’s death all over again. He felt as if he’d failed Cassandra and his son, and was blaming himself for their deaths.
She knew it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
But she’d told him everything now, just as she’d promised she would. There was no longer any reason for her to remain at Darlington Castle, unless…unless Gideon wanted her here. “The next stagecoach leaves for London in an hour. I’ll gather my things together.”
She waited, every part of her aching for him to stop her from leaving, to tell her he wanted her to stay with him. To tell her he wanted her at all.
“No. No stagecoach.”
Her heart gave a cautious leap, but her hopes were dashed to bits when he added, “My coachman will take you.”
Cecilia nodded, her eyes stinging. “Yes, I…all right. Thank you.”
He didn’t spare her another word or glance, but left the house, closing the door behind him with a finality that echoed in every chamber of Cecilia’s empty heart. Within the hour a coach with the Darlington crest pulled up in front of the Dower house. Cecilia just had time to say goodbye to Mrs. Briggs and Amy, and kiss Isabella’s forehead, before she found herself huddled in a corner of it and on her way back to London.
Gideon didn’t come to bid her goodbye. She didn’t see him again.
It was dark when the coach arrived at No. 26 Maddox Street in London’s West End. By then Cecilia felt as if she’d been dragged halfway across England. Every part of her ached—her legs, her shoulders, her head—and she was exhausted in a way she never had been before.
In her body, her mind, her heart, and her soul.
She staggered up the stairs of the Clifford School, opened the door, and slipped inside. Perhaps she could sneak upstairs without a word to anyone, pull the coverlet over her head, and fall into a dream where there was no grief, no loss, no fire, and no death.
No icy blue eyes staring down at her as if they’d never seen her before.
But it was not to be. Lady Clifford herself happened to be coming down the hallway from the drawing room just as Cecilia paused in the entryway. “Cecilia? Is that you? My goodness, child! Why didn’t you send word? Daniel would have come for you, and…Cecilia? Why, whatever’s the matter, dearest?”
Lady Clifford moved closer and took Cecilia’s hand, bringing her into the light. When she saw Cecilia’s face, her own face fell. “Oh, my dear girl.”
She said no more, just opened her arms.
Cecilia dove into them, the tears she’d been holding back since Gideon walked into the Dower house running down her cheeks, slowly at first, like a trickle of water from a cracked dam, then bursting forth with a fury as the dam gave way. Her chest heaved with sobs, because Gideon despised her now, and nothing would ever be right again.
Chapter Twenty-six
Haslemere House, Surrey
One week later
“How long do you intend to keep up this nonsense, Darlington?”
Gideon raised his head in surprise. He’d been staring into the fire, and he hadn’t noticed Haslemere enter the library. “I don’t know what you mean. What nonsense?”
Haslemere threw himself into the chair opposite Gideon’s with an irritable sigh. “This ridiculous pouting over Cecilia Gilchrist. For God’s sake, man. Saddle a horse, ride to London, and claim your lady.”
“She’s not my lady, and I never pout.” He brooded occasionally—he’d own to that. Even moped
now and again, but pouting was just pathetic, especially over a woman. No matter how soft her skin might be, or how sweet her dark eyes, how intoxicating her kiss—
“Oh, no? You forget how well I know you, Darlington. Remember when you were nineteen, and fancied yourself in love with Caroline Ivy? There was a good deal of besotted mooning then, if I recall. Thankfully it was short-lived, but then you weren’t madly in love with her.”
Gideon let his tumbler drop onto the table beside him, then turned a glower on Haslemere. “Are you implying I’m madly in love with Cecilia, Haslemere?” Just because he couldn’t stop thinking of Cecilia, dreaming of her, that didn’t mean—
“Implying it?” Haslemere lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not implying a bloody thing. I’m declaring it to be so, and asking you what the devil you intend to do about it aside from languishing in my library, brooding like some romantic hero and abusing my crystal.”
Gideon set the tumbler upright again with a sigh. “Have I been as bad as all that?”
Haslemere had never been one to indulge a sulk, and he didn’t do so now. “No, you’ve been worse. We both know you’re not going to let her go, so why not get her now, and put us both out of our misery?”
“She lied to me, Haslemere.”
Haslemere rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. She lied to you, entered your home under false pretenses, and pretended to be someone she wasn’t. What of it? I lied to you, too, and it hasn’t stopped you from drinking all my port.”
That caught Gideon’s attention. “You lied to me? When?”
Haslemere dropped his booted feet onto the leather ottoman in front of his chair. “I told you I didn’t know who Cecilia Gilchrist was, and I did. The moment I heard her name that first morning, I knew she was one of Lady Clifford’s girls.”
Gideon gave him an incredulous look. “You knew? Why the devil didn’t you tell me who she was, then?”
“Because I didn’t want you to send her away. Lady Clifford sent Cecilia to find out the truth about Cassandra’s death. I knew you didn’t murder your wife, so I decided to let Cecilia go about her business and prove you innocent.”