Ghost of Christmas Past

by King, Rebecca

  “Have you tried to go and see her? The least you deserve is an explanation.”

  “She made it clear that she never wanted to see me again. She didn’t tell me in her own words exactly.” He threw his colleague a dark look. “She sent her uncle to tell me instead. Even if I did find her now, she could be married to someone else, or not want to see me. I just don’t know -” He shook his head, unwilling to admit that he didn’t know how he would feel if he discovered that she belonged to someone else now. He rubbed a weary hand down his face and brushed the melted snowdrops off with a shake of his hand.

  “She was half dead, Rupert. People change their minds, you know. How do you know that she doesn’t regret sending you away? She was badly injured and had no idea if she could walk again. From what you have told me, the carriage accident damned near killed her. How do you know that she doesn’t have the same regrets you have? One thing is for certain, putting yourself through this misery year after year is certainly getting nowhere now is it? You won’t be able to put this aside until you go and talk to her.”

  Jacob’s words brought forward the imagery he had been desperately trying to blank out. The sight of the snow lying in the yard before him seemed to summon the memories forward in spite of his best efforts. He was transported back to the second that he had caught sight of the blood stained snow surrounding the shattered wreckage of the bridal carriage that had been on its way to the church.

  He had clambered over Thea’s father’s body to reach Thea herself, who had been unconscious and curled up on the snowy ground that had been visible through the broken door she lay on. The wedding dress she had worn had been torn in several places and stained red with blood. The arrangement of flowers, berries and holly she had carried had been scattered around her and lay very much like she had, all bent and twisted in the pink-tinged snow. The stoic silence of the men who had carried her with him through the village to the doctor’s office still haunted him to this day. The memory of the quietly weeping crowds he had walked through on that snowy morning had shattered what had been left of his already broken heart. People had travelled from miles around to witness his wedding to Thea. They had attended the funeral of Thea’s father instead.

  The blessed sound of Jacob’s voice brought him back to the present and he turned to his friend with a sigh.

  “I am not going to pry or try to tell you what to do, Rupert. I cannot conceive of what you must have gone through but I have to say that if I was in your shoes, I would have to revisit my past and at least find out why she refused to see you after the accident.”

  “The marriage was an arranged one, Jacob. She didn’t want to get married. She was forced into it by her grasping parents.”

  “What happened to those parents, though? I mean, I know you said her father died in the carriage accident, but what happened to her mother?”

  Rupert sighed deeply. He hated Frances Weatherby with every fibre of his being, and would have no regrets if he never set eyes on the avaricious woman ever again.

  “I have no idea where the mother is now, and don’t give a damn. I wish her in Hades,” he bit out darkly. “Why do you ask? What relevance does that have to Thea refusing to see me after the accident?”

  “You don’t know what influence her mother had on her, Rupert. I mean, the woman talked her daughter into an arranged marriage, who knows what else she persuaded Thea to agree to, especially if Thea was scared and fogged with laudanum. If Thea didn’t tell you herself that she didn’t want to see you again, how do you know for definite that is how she felt?”

  Rupert shook his head. He knew that Jacob was only trying to help, but he didn’t understand. “Do you know of John Weatherby? He is a philanthropist who lives in Mayfair.”

  “Of course I do. Everyone in London has heard of him.”

  “He is Thea’s uncle, and took over her guardianship when her father passed away. He was something of a black sheep of the Weatherby family, but isn’t as greedy and has certainly fared better than his grasping brother. Isaiah Weatherby and his wife, Frances had delusions of grandeur and lived far beyond their means. Their profligate ways led the estates dry and when the coffers were empty, they sold everything they could until the house was practically empty as well. When the house was bled dry, they had only one commodity left; their daughter Thea.”

  “I didn’t realise your marriage was to have been an arranged one.”

  “It wasn’t really,” Rupert sighed. “I wanted it but Thea just didn’t know I wanted it. She thought I was being forced into it. At the time though I just wasn’t prepared to have my father or hers for that matter, tell me what to do and I pulled at the strings a bit.” He drained the tankard in his hand.

  “Jesus, Rupert. You never told me this before.”

  Rupert’s parody of a smile didn’t reach his eyes and he stared at his friend for several moments. “I fell for her at the Abernathy’s ball the year before, and couldn’t stop thinking about her, but she was understandably wary. Her upbringing by that harridan of a mother of hers was less than ideal and it took me some time to garner her trust and get her to relax around me so that we could talk without the formalities. When I did though I knew that marriage to her was the right course of action to take. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being sold to any highest bidder. Not Thea, she deserved far more than that. So I reasoned that if I had to marry to honour my duties to my family, I would much prefer it to be to someone like Thea.”

  “So you agreed to go through with the wedding in the hopes of getting her away from her family, but the accident prevented your marriage and she refused to see you again.” He wished he hadn’t said the last sentence when Rupert physically winced. “Sorry.”

  “It’s alright. It’s the truth really. I think that Thea came to stay at her uncle’s house, but I cannot be sure. I went into the army as soon as it became evident that I wasn’t going to be able to get close enough to her to change her mind or at least get her to talk to me. I waited of course, but discovered about a month after the accident that she had moved to the country to recover from her injuries as best she could, however it was highly unlikely that she would ever walk again.”

  Rupert rubbed his hand down his face again. It felt as though the events that had changed his life so drastically had happened only yesterday instead of four years ago. The pain was as sharp, the memories as stark, and he knew deep in his heart that they would never fade.

  He was nine and twenty now and a man of the world who had fought in the war and spent a long time living and fighting in the shadows for the Star Elite. The man he used to be was long gone and had been replaced with someone whose memories would haunt him for the rest of his life. He knew now that he should have stayed and fought harder to keep her.

  “We have to move out tomorrow. There is a place up in Leicestershire that needs our attention. Fornier has been sighted up there so we have to go and check it out,” Jacob whispered as he blew on his hands to get some warmth back into them.

  “I hope it isn’t a wild goose chase like last time,” Rupert grumbled. He sighed and pushed away from the wall to head back inside only for Jacob to place a hand on his arm.

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Go on, I know you will anyway.”

  “I think that at some point you need to at least go and see this Thea of yours. You have no idea where her life is now or what she is doing. She may be happily married. If she is then you can at least walk away with your conscience intact and at least try to put it all behind you.”

  If he was honest, Jacob had no idea why Rupert felt as guilty as he did for the accident that had maimed his bride-to-be. After all, it wasn’t as though he had been driving the carriage himself and, although the marriage had been an arranged one, they had both been prepared to go through with it. Thea had been on her way to the wedding when the carriage had skidded on black ice and landed upside down in a field. So why did Rupert feel so guilty? He had lost Thea but, by the sound of it, he
hadn’t fought all that hard to keep her either. Jacob had heard enough about John Weatherby to know that as one of London’s most highly regarded philanthropists, he regularly gave money to many worthwhile causes that benefitted all walks of society. Thea had to have been given the best medical provision John could afford and, if anyone had any chance of a full recovery it was going to be her. He just couldn’t understand why Rupert didn’t seem all that inclined to go and find her, especially given the depth of feeling he clearly still had for her.

  With a shake of his head Jacob waved toward the dimly lit tavern behind them. “Let’s go back in and have a drink.” He knew before he had finished his sentence that Rupert was going to purloin a bottle or two from the bar and disappear to his room. Sure enough, his suspicions were proven correct when Rupert shook his head.

  “No, I am off to bed. I intend to get some sleep while I have the chance.”

  Minutes later, Jacob watched Rupert head to the bar where he collected three bottles before he sprinted up the main stairs to his room. He had known Rupert for at least three years now, and his colleague had done the same thing each year. At the anniversary of the accident he got blind drunk and stayed that way for at least two or three days. He would then immerse himself in the most dangerous work he could find.

  Unfortunately, with each year that passed, Rupert grew a little darker, a lot more determined, and more than a little ruthless.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “God, it is bloody cold out here tonight,” Marcus grumbled from beside him.

  Rupert nodded and stared down at his feet as he wiggled his toes. They had frozen over several hours ago and he struggled not to stamp his feet in an attempt to get some sensation back into them. He was so cold now that he was fairly certain his lips were blue.

  The last time he had seen blue lips on a person had been the day that he had crawled over Isaiah’s dead body to get to Thea. He shuddered and quickly turned his thoughts away from the macabre scene that surfaced with his memories.

  For some reason, his conversation with Jacob the other night still plagued him. Although he had retreated to his room and drunk himself into oblivion, as soon as he had sobered up he had immediately found himself starting to consider his friend’s suggestion. Was he right? If he found her and spoke to her, would he finally be able to lay the ghosts of the past to rest? Over the years he had often wondered where she was but had always been busy with the army and the Star Elite to even consider finding her again. However, his recent work with the Star Elite had started to feel a little uncomfortable, as though he was working for a cause but wasn’t quite sure why. It made him wonder whether now was the time to revisit the past so that he could get on with his future; whatever that might be.

  It was a possibility that refused to be ignored and he soon found himself thinking about where she could be. He was a fully paid up member of the Star Elite, one of the country’s finest group of fighting men who worked for the War Office. It shouldn’t be hard to find out where she lived now. Had she moved to uncle’s house in Mayfair once her recovery was complete? He did know that she had never returned to Weatherby Hall, and that her mother had been forced to leave the huge mansion by John shortly after the accident.

  Rupert carefully tucked his thoughts aside for now and turned his attention back to the job at hand. Somewhere across the village several of his colleagues, Harry, Lucifer, aka Luke, Joshua, Brendan and Jacob were all hidden in the shadows, watching and waiting in the hope of spotting the two French spies they were after. Edward Snope and Philip Chester, otherwise known as Philippe Laurant and Saul Guerin; were just two of the four remaining French spies still at large in England somewhere, and the Star Elite had received reliable information that they were in this particular village for some reason.

  So far in their investigation the Star Elite had successfully captured a long line of traitors who had established a chain of safe houses for several French spies to live in while they arranged fresh identities and the finances necessary to adopt English identities and establish positions that enabled them to spy on the country. Although most of the chain, and the ring-leaders, had been either captured or killed, there were four spies still at large, Guerin, Levant, Dubois and Fornier.

  Harry and Marcus had just returned from assisting one of their colleagues, Stephen, to bring about the arrest of the fifth spy, Rousseau, who had reluctantly provided them with information that had led them to the small village of Buckleridge in the wilds of Leicestershire. Why the spies were so far from the coast heaven only knew but, given that the chain of command the Frenchmen had established had been lost and their lives were now in jeopardy, the Star Elite could only assume that they had ‘retired’ to the country to lie low for a while and arrange to return to their native country.

  Although at first they had found nothing unusual about the sleepy little village in the middle of nowhere, Luke had caught sight of someone who matched Snope’s description leaving a small cottage in the far corner of the green earlier that afternoon. They had decided to stage a watch of the house and were now waiting for someone to return. However, it was nearing midnight and so cold that Rupert was certain he was going to be frozen to the spot and unable to fight anyone if the need arose.

  He tucked his mouth into the woollen scarf wrapped tightly around his neck so that the air didn’t fog out before him and let out a heavy sigh. Beside them, the old thatched pub was starting to wind down for the night. The loud laughter had long since dimmed to a dull roar and several patrons called a cheery goodbye as they had stumbled out of the door and dispersed into the darkness.

  “It’s a wild goose chase,” Rupert sighed. If anyone other than Hugo had interviewed Rousseau, he would have sent a request to the jail for a professional to re-question the convict. However, Sir Hugo was the best in the business and had forwarded the information to his men personally, so it wasn’t down to Rupert, or anyone else for that matter, to question the man’s abilities.

  Still, he was cold, wet, and thoroughly miserable and, not for the first time, wondering what the hell he was doing. He could be beside the fire in Bainbridge, with a full stomach, the dog at his feet and nothing better to do than read or stare into the flames. He quickly closed that thought out as his treacherous mind immediately put before him the image of the empty hearth chair opposite. It seemed to taunt him that Thea should be seated across from him and that someone very important was missing from his life.

  He had long since decided that without Thea, he had no intention of ever retiring to enjoy Bainbridge, the country estate that had been in his family for generations. Much to the consternation of his father, Rupert had sent word before he had left Portsmouth that he was in the army and about to leave the country. He never had received a response and wasn’t even sure if he was still welcome at the Samuels’ ancestral home.

  It was of little consequence really because Rupert didn’t want a home to himself. If he remained with the Star Elite, he could fight to take the edge off his anger, and lodge in whatever place had a warm, dry bed. He would never have to think about staff, duties or responsibilities to anyone other than himself. If he died doing his job then word would be sent home to his family. They would ensure that he was at least buried in the family crypt at Bainbridge. What they did with his body seemed to be of little consequence though. The most important part of him, the part that really and truly mattered; his heart; had been buried four years ago. He was a mere shell of a man now and happy to remain that way until the good Lord parted him from the earth.

  Until then, he had a job to do.

  He shifted and nudged Marcus as a large, black carriage rumbled to a stop outside a row of cottages to the left of them. The coachman made no attempt to get down and drop the step to allow the occupants out and instead remained still and motionless on the top seat.

  Rupert studied the coachman and horses. From several feet away it was impossible to get a good look at the driver’s face. The top hat he wore cast the upper part of t
he face into shadow. The lower part of the face from the nose downward was covered by the heavy swathes of material wrapped around the face and neck. A long cloak covered what was rest of him so it was impossible to tell if the man was thin or fat, tall or short. The large whip in his hand was held aloft but not used on the horse that was as black as the nondescript carriage it pulled.

  Eventually, the carriage door opened and a dark figure emerged. He had only ever seen a roughly sketched drawing of Guerin, but knew from the description that had been attached that the man who had just descended from the carriage was him. Rupert watched him jump out of the coach and disappear into the cottage without a backward look but had gotten a reasonably good look at his face to be able to recognise him. He remained perfectly still and waited for the coach to pull away, confident in the knowledge that Luke and Brendan, who were on horseback and watching the village’s roads, would follow the coach. Between them, the rest of the Star Elite would keep watch on the front and back of the house to see who else turned up, or left.

  As soon as the carriage rolled out of sight, Rupert and Marcus left their hiding place and disappeared into the shadows. They crept silently around the outskirts of the village toward the back of the house Guerin had disappeared into where they met with Jacob and Harry.

  “Any sign of the three?” Harry asked. Everyone shook their heads.

  “The coachman was too heavily disguised and cannot be discounted as one of them,” Rupert whispered.

  “I think that Dubois is in there but only caught a fleeting glance so cannot be sure. There is at least one other person in the house, apart from Guerin,” Jacob replied with a scowl.

  “I was too far away and he was too well covered to see much. Did anyone get a good view of the driver?”

  “Nope, but I think that he is too well covered to be just hired for the journey,” Joshua sighed.

  “Do we know where Guerin went? If he met anyone?”