by Regina Darcy
An officer swept into the tent. Looking up, Edmund saw that it was his cousin.
“James,” Edmund murmured. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
“What do you remember about yesterday?” James demanded.
Edmund flinched, surprised by his stony expression. “Just…I...I remember the cannon exploding near me. Before that…after you left me, something terrible had happened, I think.”
“That’s right,” Smith said coldly. “Oh, Adair. What have you done?”
“I swear, James. I don’t remember. Do you know what happened to me?” Edmund asked.
“What—you’re really saying you don’t remember anything?”
“No…well, just flashes, I suppose.” Edmund felt the sweat stinging his burned neck. “James…I think someone tried to hang me.”
“Yes. They did. I was there.”
“What’s happened to me?”
“You were tried and hung as a deserter. They found you half out of your mind, trying to quit the field. I might have been able to argue you out of that scrape, but it quickly got out of control. You shot an officer from a different battalion while trying to escape and ran another through with your sabre when they took you in. You were mad, so they had to put you down immediately, right there on the field. Once they had you strung up, some shells came blasting our way. We evacuated. They thought you had died—I thought you had died—so we all left. I see we were wrong.”
“But…I don’t remember anything—”
“Really, Edmund, it doesn’t matter whether or not you remember. A desertion is a desertion.” Smith’s words were as sharp as a blade. “Good men died because of you. Honestly, it’s likely a blessing you don’t remember. You don’t have to live with it. Christ, old boy, there’s losing your nerve, and then there’s becoming a whole other person entirely.” James rubbed his temples. “Edmund…if they catch you again, they’re going to kill you.”
Edmund felt as if his entire person had shattered into a thousand shards. Smith’s story was bad enough, but the disappointment and the pain in his eyes were even worse. For a moment, Edmund wanted to die. “I’m going to face this and take whatever punishment I deserve.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense. They’ll kill you. They’ll drag you back to that tree and hang you again.”
“Good. That would be better…”
“You’re a coward.” James shook his head. “How will that news affect your poor father? And Lydia?” Edmund looked up. He hadn’t thought about that. “Listen to me…the hanging was rather impromptu. I can make sure that it doesn’t go in the record books. But if they excuse you now, word will spread. It will kill the people you love. The dishonour. The shame. Do the merciful thing, Edmund. Disappear.”
ELEVEN
Thank goodness the innkeeper at the Garden Dell was Annie’s cousin.
“Good evening, Annie, Miss Page,” he said, smiling at the slightly frozen young people.
“Hello, Mr Millington.” Lydia knew they were an odd sight—two young women supporting a masked, bleeding skeleton between them.
However, the innkeeper didn’t let on a hint of surprise. “Having a good evening?”
“Yes. We require a room for our friend here.”
“Of course.” He handed over a key and even helped them drag the skeleton mummer upstairs. They could trust Annie’s cousin not to report them for their completely inappropriate behaviour. It certainly didn’t look good to be dragging a half-conscious masked man to an upstairs bedroom. People might talk.
Once the mummer was laid down on the bed, Annie deposited herself in the chair in the corner, while Lydia reached out to remove Edmund’s grotesque mask.
“No, please.” The man had regained consciousness enough to grip the sides of the mask. “That’s not necessary.”
Lydia glared into his hollow eye sockets. “I’m not treating a skeleton.”
Slowly, he lowered his hands. She gently removed the mask and stared down at the pale, slightly scarred face of her supposedly dead fiancé.
“Hello, Edmund,” she said coldly.
“Captain Adair,” Annie said, nodding from the corner.
He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“I’m going to need to take off your jacket and shirt to get a better look at you.” Lydia gestured at her maid. “Don’t you worry. Annie will be here to chaperone.”
Edmund nodded and shrugged out of his jacket. Then, wincing, he allowed her to unbutton his faded waistcoat and pull off his white shirt. Both had been stained through with blood.
Lydia leaned closer, looking at the wound. “Well, the good news is that it doesn’t appear too deep. But it’s bleeding quite a lot. I’m going to sew you up.”
Edmund gave a nervous laugh.
“What’s so amusing about that?”
“Have you become a surgeon since I’ve been gone?”
She smiled at him as Annie sauntered over and handed Lydia her spare needle and thread. “No. But I imagine it’s quite a lot like embroidery.”
Edmund swallowed. “But…you hate sewing.”
Annie snickered. “You mean to say, she’s terrible at sewing.”
Lydia shot her maid a glare and ran the needle through the bedside candle’s flickering flame. “Well, you’re certainly not fit to do it, Annie.” She looked at Edmund. “That one had a bit too much wine while flirting with your former valet.” Annie giggled and sank deeper into the chair. “Annie, stop being silly and get something I can clean this with. And perhaps something for Mr Adair to drink to bring him closer to your state.”
With some help from the innkeeper, Annie was able to accomplish both tasks relatively quickly. The patient was given a large swig of brandy to help with the pain. Lydia worked at dabbing and cleaning the cut without really talking to Edmund.
Finally, she began to thread the needle, her lips pressed together in firm concentration.
“Now,” she said, resolutely. “It’s time for the embroidery.”
***
Once the stitching had been completed, Annie continued to ply Edmund with brandy, which he gladly accepted.
“What did I ever do to make you hate me?” Lydia asked dryly.
“Hate you? I don’t hate you, Lydia.”
“Was this some elaborate, mad way of getting out of the engagement? Pretending to die in Spain? Have you secretly always wanted to be a mummer, and this is your way of pursuing that dream?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Then why in heaven’s name would you allow me to believe that you were dead?” Tears were welling up in her eyes, despite her best efforts. She wiped them away with her gloved hand. “You broke my heart, Edmund. When I heard that you had died, I died, as well.”
“I’m going to wait outside—” Annie murmured, standing up and creeping toward the door.
“No, Annie, you’re the chaperone!” Lydia barked. “Sit down.”
The maid obeyed, looking rather tired.
“Lydia…” Edmund murmured. “I’m so sorry. After what I did…I thought you’d be better off without me. With someone better. But I’ve always loved you. I love you more than anything. And I always will.”
Her resolve breaking a bit, Lydia leaned down and caressed his pale forehead. Then she glared at him again. “Well, that makes you a rather stupid person, does it not?” Lydia snapped. “Because I only want you. I don’t care what you’ve done. That also brings us to our next topic. What exactly did you do?”
“It’s hard for me to talk about….” Edmund trailed off, with a glassy look in his eyes.
“Please tell me the entire thing,” Lydia persisted, folding her arms. “I think I deserve an explanation.”
“And honestly, I’m curious myself,” Annie called from the corner.
“Annie, be quiet!” Lydia snapped.
“You do…of course you deserve an explanation. I’m sorry…Lydia, I don’t know how to say this…I betrayed my men.” Edmund stared at his han
ds. “I betrayed my country.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“During the Battle of Albuera…I didn’t go missing. I was hung as a traitor for deserting my post. I somehow survived the hanging, and I was too much of a coward to turn myself back in. So I’ve been in hiding ever since. I’ve tried to make right by founding this mummers’ group… It’s supposed to be for injured veterans, to help them earn a living and get back on their feet. Perhaps I’m just fooling myself. I should probably give myself up after this, take my proper punishment.”
“Do you actually remember deserting?”
“Of course. I must have panicked. And then I woke up with a noose around my neck.”
“No, Edmund. Do you remember deserting? Running away? Abandoning your post? Not the aftermath—the act itself.”
“I…well, no.”
“Then how on Earth can you be so sure that you even did anything wrong in the first place?”
“I was court-martialled, Lydia!”
“Again, how can you be sure?”
“Because I just barely survived a hanging. And, afterwards, I was told. I was told that I was a wanted man. That I had disgraced myself.”
“Don’t you see, Edmund? All I hear is that you were found hanging. There’s no indication you did anything wrong. I wrote to some of the highest ranking officers in your regiment. They spoke of you glowingly in their letters. So if you were hung for desertion, it was done without their knowledge, which makes no sense. Until I see proof that you deserted, I won’t believe it. You’re a brave man. You’re not a coward.”
“Oh, Lydia. You don’t know how frightened I was at the battle.”
“Being courageous isn’t the same as being fearless.”
Lydia slammed her gloved fist into the bedside table, rattling the candle. “There must have been some mistake.”
“I’m afraid not. I saw…a letter. Men from my unit signed it. It spoke of…how I’d deserted. How I’d led to the deaths of so many.”
“Who exactly was the mysterious friend who revealed all of this helpful information to you?”
“It was James Smith, my cousin. He told me…warned me. He didn’t want them to catch me, so he helped me escape back to England.”
Lydia frowned. “How do you know he wasn’t lying?”
Edmund blinked. “I know that his behaviour over the past few days hasn’t been…He’s changed quite a lot. But that doesn’t mean…We were like brothers, don’t you remember?”
“Cain and Abel were brothers, too.” Lydia held up her hands pointedly.
“I hardly believe he’d do something the likes of which you’re suggesting. What would he gain from it?”
“A massive fortune from your father by marrying me,” Lydia answered. “And your inheritance. With you out of the way, he could step into your life and claim it as his own.”
***
Lydia and Edmund stood in the garden, speaking in low whispers. A bitter wind whipped up the snow, sending sparkling swirls into the air. Annie had already gone inside the Page manor, complaining of the frigid temperatures. This allowed the former couple to speak in private. Despite having agreed to appear at the ball, Edmund was still reluctant to go inside.
“If anything, you must at least reveal yourself to your father,” Lydia told him. “Your death broke him.”
Edmund hung his head, ashamed. “Of course.”
“Think of this as your penance.” Lydia shook her head. “I truly don’t think you have anything to atone for, other than allowing us to believe you had died.”
“Either way, I’m a coward,” Edmund said. The wind played with his unruly black hair. Lydia had to resist the urge to smooth it out, as she had always done in the past.
“I’m so sorry, Lydia. You deserved so much more.”
“Nonsense,” Lydia returned crossly. Edmund turned away from her. She stared at him, at his slumped posture, at the scars circling his eyes.
“Edmund...do you love me?”
He looked as if he might fall over.
“Lydia, you haven’t left my mind since I last saw you. I stayed away because of that. I didn’t want you to…find out. I didn’t want to ruin your chances at happiness by dragging you down with me. But, as I told you before, I honestly do love you more than anything.”
Lydia felt as if her heart was slowing down and speeding up at the same time. She moved closer to him.
They embraced, holding each other close. Lydia rested her head against his chest, feeling his strong arms holding her tightly. She found herself shaking, despite his warm embrace.
TWELVE
Lydia burst into the ballroom, with Edmund trailing after her. She was prepared to make a grand announcement about her former fiancé’s return, but she stopped short at the sight that met her eyes.
The ballroom was no longer filled with gentlemen and ladies from the town. Her parents were gone. The servants were gone.
The whole festive room was empty, aside from James Smith, a handful of his clique, and a man dressed as an Anglican minister.
Lydia felt cold dread begin to pool in her stomach.
“Where has everyone gone?”
“I’m afraid they all received some tragic news,” James told her, smirking. “Your sleigh apparently overturned into a small pond somewhere in the forest. When I announced the tragedy, the servants and guests immediately broke off into search parties. Everyone’s out looking for you, but hopes are low that you’ll be discovered alive.”
“What on Earth…?” The truth dawned on Lydia. James had cleared out all the guests on purpose. “Where are my parents?”
“They’re currently residing in the cellar, along with your feisty maid.”
“Crazy wench,” the minister muttered. Lydia saw that he was sporting a black eye.
“They’re joined by that strange Irishman who fell through the ice with you earlier—I believe he used to work for Edmund over there.” James nodded at his cousin. “Sergeant McCormack didn’t seem to believe my little tale and stuck around longer than he was welcome.”
“What is this, James?” Edmund snapped, stepping forward so that he was shielding Lydia. James nodded, and three of his comrades proceeded to rush forward and pummel Edmund. He tried his best to throw a few punches in return, but, in his weakened state, soon fell to the ground, thoroughly thrashed.
“You’re a monster!” Lydia shouted at James, as she knelt beside the fallen man. “What in the world are you doing this for?”
“I don’t have time to explain it all here,” he replied, smiling down at Lydia. “We have a wedding to attend.”
***
“This is perfect,” James declared, as his men dragged Edmund’s still form through the snow. “You’ll like this, Edmund. You’ve come full circle.”
Edmund lifted his head to see where they were taking him. All he saw were the circular, crumbling walls of the old wishing well. He closed his eyes. Where was Lydia?
“See, cousin? It’s the old well you almost drowned in all those years ago….Now, let’s hang him down there,” James was telling one of the men. “I don’t want him drowning. We need to be able to retrieve him, in case Lydia needs further persuasion. He doesn’t have to be alive, of course, but I suppose the cold will keep his body relatively pristine, either way.”
The men hoisted up the old water bucket and set about tying Edmund’s numb wrists to it. Then, they picked him up and moved to throw him into the well.
“Wait!” James cried, holding up his hand. He leaned closer to Edmund. “I want you to know exactly what’s happening, before we say goodbye.”
Too angry to even form words, Edmund looked away from the man he had once thought of as a brother.
“Come now, old boy, don’t you want to know what I’m going to do to your betrothed?”
“If you hurt her—”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ll make a terrifying ghost. But I daresay, you’re the reason I have to hurt her.” James shook his head. “
I’m afraid that you ruined my plans from the start, cousin. They were flawed plans, though, so some of the blame lies with me. It would’ve been simpler to just shoot you, of course. But I was foolish. Filled with youthful exuberance, you might say. I wanted to ruin you. And then, when I found you lying behind the wall with your broken ankle, I had the perfect opportunity. So we hung you. The idea was to stage it so that you looked like a deserter and leave you for other men to find. And then, just as I was about to announce the execution to the higher-ups, you limped back into camp. I could hardly kill you then, could I?”
“James.” The wall of the well bit into Edmund’s back. He knew that when they dropped him, he’d be facing a long, cold death. He forced himself to keep his disgust in check and his eyes narrowed in on Smith. “We were like brothers…Why this change?”
Smith rolled his eyes. “Brothers. If we were really brothers, I’d have no need to go to all this trouble. Edmund, you don’t know what it is to be in debt. My family has the name and the connections necessary for moving in London’s most elite circles, but not the funds. That’s enough to drive anyone mad, especially when I have to watch you get everything you want handed to you—such a weak, stupid person. You know, I didn’t fail out of The Society of Gentleman Practisers in the Courts of Law and Equity. I was forced out, because I couldn’t keep up the lifestyle. You never even tried to pursue law, because you were too cowed by your father. I deserve what you have, and I’m finally taking it.”
“But then, why not just take my inheritance? Why do you need Lydia, too? Leave her out of this.”
“You really have no sense of money, do you? Must be nice. I’ll need as much funding as I can acquire in order to keep myself and my boys here happy. So, unfortunately, Lydia is a necessary part of this unhappy equation.”
“You’re a monster.”
“I suppose. But don’t worry. Once we are wed, I will only be using her for a rather short time,” Smith said. “It’s a pity. She’s very beautiful. Perhaps I would keep her, if she were a bit more docile. But she’s rather headstrong about her affection for you, it seems. It’s quite sweet, after all these years. So, once we are married and the news spreads around the Bon Ton crowd, I’ll keep her here under lock and key until I can subtly dispose of her parents. A nice house fire should do the trick. Then, I’ll put her out of her misery, as well, and collect the inheritance. It’s the merciful thing to do, it seems.”