He looked out in the distance toward the ruins.
“What are you thinking?” Hannah asked softly.
“Only that I do not know what I would do if something ever happened to you,” he said, his voice nearly gutted, so much so that she rose from the stool and stepped closer to him.
“You must not worry. Our situation is much different,” she said, standing behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck, “for I know you will always be there for me. The wife you didn’t want,” she added, teasing him, but he was not in a jovial mood. When he gripped her hands tightly in his, she could sense the desperation within him, though why, she didn’t know.
“You feel his pain, don’t you?” she asked, and he nodded.
“It is ridiculous, I know, but I feel he is with me… with us,” Edmund said. “And yet, I have never been frightened of him.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It is somewhat… creepy I suppose you could say, that feeling of being watched, but I have no fear.”
“He misses her,” Edmund said, to which Hannah responded by nuzzling her chin into his shoulder.
“What do you think he is waiting for?” he pondered.
“To be reunited with her, don’t you think?” she asked. “It’s what I would want. I only wish we knew how to help them.”
“Perhaps in time we will,” he mused. “I had hoped that by learning their story we might know what to do, but I feel we are no further ahead than we ever were.”
“We’ll get there,” Hannah said, hoping that she could reassure him, “together.” She moved to sit on his lap so she could better see his face. “You haven’t had any nightmares lately.”
“No,” he said, a faint smile turning up his lips. “Not since I’ve been with you.”
Suddenly Hannah sensed a presence behind her, and when she turned, this time it was an actual person in the flesh standing within the garden.
“My apologies,” Falton said, obviously meaning it, “but Lord Marshville is here.”
“Can you tell him we are not home?” Edmund said dryly, and Hannah had to press her lips tightly together to keep from laughing, an action she sensed Falton was mimicking as well.
“He has shown himself into the parlor,” Falton said, and Edmund sighed.
“Well, we best go get this over with,” he said. “I will speak with him alone after dinner, and then, hopefully, he will be gone.”
“Hopefully,” Hannah repeated, but a feeling of dread filled her stomach, one that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried.
* * *
Hannah squirmed uncomfortably in her seat throughout the meal. Lord Marshville was as she had remembered him – loud, boorish, and quite honestly, rather drunk. Hannah could hardly eat a bite of her dinner, for all she could think about was the fact that she had nearly married the man. How horrible life would have been, she thought, taking a small sip of wine to fortify herself.
She could sense Edmund smoldering from the seat next to her. Instead of sitting across the table from one another, Hannah had taken to sitting at his right elbow so they could converse through dinner. Unfortunately, tonight Byron sat across from her, and he wouldn’t stop staring at her. It disconcerted Hannah, and apparently Edmund was none too pleased as well.
Hannah reached over to him under the table and squeezed his knee.
Byron now looked from Hannah to Edmund and back again.
“So,” he said, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, “what has kept you two occupied here at Hollingswood?”
Edmund managed a tight smile. “Life, I suppose.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Byron said, shaking his head. “How dreary it would be, out here in the middle of nowhere. It’s a shame to waste such beauty here.”
Hannah swallowed hard, looking over to Edmund, for his brother had clearly insinuated just what – or rather who – he was referring to.
“It’s interesting, isn’t it, that the two of us could have been married?” he said to Hannah with a chuckle. “And now here you are, married to my brother.”
“Everything has a way of working itself out,” she said, placing her glass down firmly on the table, determined to put this man in his place. She hoped there wouldn’t be too many more dinners such as these.
“So it does,” he said, smiling sickly at her before he took another sip of his own drink, his gaze not leaving her face.
“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Edmund said, pushing his chair back and standing abruptly. The fire cracked loudly in the grate through the silence in the room as he stood and stared at his brother.
“We’ve only just begun,” Byron protested, but Edmund shook his head.
“You and I will go to the library to continue this conversation,” he said. “Hannah doesn’t need to hear it.”
“My apologies, Hannah, if I have not been a gracious guest,” Byron said, slightly wobbly on his feet as he finally stood and began to wander out of the room. “Say, which bedchamber is yours?”
“Out!” Edmund commanded, and Hannah didn’t think she had ever been so grateful for her husband before.
* * *
What Edmund most wanted to do at the moment was sink his fist into his brother’s face and show him just exactly what he thought of his little show back in the dining room.
But if he wanted Byron gone, then he would have to play his little game. He led him into the library, and the door seemed to slam behind them of its own accord. Edmund couldn’t help but smile when Byron jumped.
“Sit,” Edmund said, but Byron crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at him.
“I thought I was the older brother here,” he said, and Edmund shrugged carelessly.
“That may be true, but you are in my home now,” he said. “If there is anything I can actually claim as mine, it is Hollingswood.”
“And your wife, apparently,” Byron said, finally taking a seat across from Edmund and steepling his fingers together.
“And my wife,” Edmund acquiesced, though the truth was he was actually in total agreement regarding Hannah. He didn’t, however, wish to talk about her any longer with his brother. “What are you doing here, Byron?”
Byron snorted. “That is quite the welcome.”
Edmund leaned forward in his seat. “You have only been through the doors of Hollingswood once before. Why now? Clearly you are after something.”
“Well, since I’m here, I did have a favor to ask,” Byron said, and Edmund looked up to the ceiling in supplication, though whether he was hoping God or his great-uncle could help, he had no idea.
“Which is…” he asked warily.
“Well, I know your pretty little bride came with a lovely dowry. I know because it was supposed to be mine,” Byron said, looking cross. “Since you stole my bride, I believe the least you could do is to provide me with a bit of a… gift, we shall call it, hmm?”
The ire began simmering deep within Edmund’s belly, before growing through his chest and then spreading out to his limbs. He set his jaw as he stared at his brother.
“Let me get this right,” he said, pointing a finger toward him. “You were betrothed to Hannah, but then you were caught with your pants around your ankles with another woman. When you were forced to marry and give up Hannah, I did what you couldn’t. Now you want to take advantage of the money that accompanied her into this marriage?”
Byron cocked his head, and smiled what Edmund was sure was supposed to be a charming smile.
“Just a bit of it,” Byron said with a shrug. “As it happens, Edmund, you two actually seem quite happy together. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, first outside and then at dinner. I thought for sure that you would be miserable. There is no question that I was certain she would be back to London already. Have you placed some kind of spell over her to hold her here?”
Edmund snorted. “It must be my good looks and charm.”
Byron eyed him with so much contempt that Edmund was ta
ken aback.
“I was always jealous of you, you know.”
“Of me?” Edmund’s head reeled. His brother had never said such a thing before.
“You never had any of the expectations placed upon you that I did. And still, you were good looking, silent, but with this mysterious air about you that the women seemed to enjoy, though why, I shall never know. Then when you signed up, oh, you were a soldier on top of it all! Father was so proud of you. He would often lament the fact that I was the one who would inherit.”
Edmund could only stare at Byron in shock. “I never knew that.”
“No, he made sure you never did. Wouldn’t want to show too much pride in us, you know. He had no qualms in sharing his thoughts with me, however.”
Edmund rubbed his forehead. He pitied his brother, but he didn’t see how any of this was his fault.
“Look, Byron—”
“And then you came back from war.” Byron’s eyes took on a mysterious gleam. “You were a war hero, sure, but you were no longer a glorious, good-looking war hero. You were injured. Damaged. So scarred that people could hardly look upon you. And you hid away, here at Hollingswood, and suddenly I was favored again. I was betrothed to a woman with a dowry enough to pay off our family’s debts and fund my own lifestyle. All was finally going well for me. Then our parents insist you attend my betrothal party, and suddenly she’s yours, as is her dowry. To do what with? Update this decrepit estate?”
Edmund stared in disbelief. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” He rose, unable to stomach his brother’s inane accusations any longer. “Go home, Byron. You have a wedding of your own to prepare for, and there is no reason for you to extend your stay here.”
“So that’s it, then?” Byron stood himself and turned around. “You’re not going to help me?”
“There’s nothing I can do for you any longer,” Edmund said, shaking his head. “Not until you learn to help yourself. Go get married, settle down, have yourself a couple of children. Leave Hannah and me alone.”
Byron’s face turned downright nasty then as he spat venomously at him. “You will rue this decision, Edmund. Mark my words.” He marched over to the door and wrenched it open. “I’ll be gone in the morning.”
When the door slammed, the painting of his great-uncle Andrew rattled ominously behind him.
“I know,” Edmund said to it as he sat heavily in the chair. “Thank goodness.”
12
Hannah had sensed Edmund’s discontent when he had come to her bed last night. It was late, and he hadn’t made love to her, but instead tossed and turned. He hadn’t left her, though, and she knew it was because of Byron’s presence in the house. He was protecting her, for which she was grateful.
By breakfast, Byron had departed, and they had both breathed a sigh of relief. Hannah could tell that Edmund was still agitated, though he wouldn’t tell her why. Instead, he spoke of his ancestor once more.
“I feel as though I’m to do something for him,” he said with a sigh. “I just don’t know what.”
“If only he could tell you,” Hannah said half-jokingly, although she wasn’t entirely sure she would want a spirit speaking to her. The fact he was within the house seemed to be enough. “What are you doing today?”
“There’s a fence that needs fixing,” Edmund said, pushing food around his plate, though Hannah noticed he wasn’t actually eating anything. “Thought I’d go see to it.”
She could tell that what he really needed was some time alone, so she didn’t comment.
“You?” he finally asked gruffly.
“I think I’ll paint,” she said, to which he gave a distracted nod.
A short time later, she and Molly were set up behind the house, but Hannah couldn’t keep her gaze from straying toward the ruin.
“This is wrong,” she said to Molly, who looked at her quizzically. Hannah was thinking on Edmund’s words that morning, and she couldn’t say why, but she felt that’s where they should be. “We need to go to the ruins.”
“Oh, my lady…” Molly said, her face falling. “Are… are you sure? I know it’s not my place to say, but there’s something about that place that is ever so frightening.”
Hannah thought for a moment before gathering up her canvas and paints, placing them in the basket beside her. “I don’t need the easel,” she said. “I’ll go alone. You stay here.”
“No, my lady, I should—”
“It’s fine,” Hannah said with a reassuring smile. “It’s not far and I don’t have much to carry. Besides, there is no one about and I will not actually go into the ruins. I will simply sit outside.”
“If you’re sure…” Molly said, seeming torn, but Hannah placed a hand on her arm and nodded.
“Very sure.”
“All right, then,” Molly said before scampering back to the house, as though she was trying to leave before Hannah changed her mind.
Hannah noted the gloomy day as she began to make her way to the ruin site. She would have to keep a close eye on the clouds and ensure that if they became any darker or any closer, she would return. She had no wish to be caught in the rain with her canvas, for it would be difficult to find more. It was not as though the village nearby would carry any – what she had, she had brought with her.
When she finally reached her destination, she looked around, spotting a large outcropping of rock where she could set up and begin to paint. Only… she found it wasn’t the view beyond that called to her, but rather the ruins themselves.
Hannah wasn’t sure how long she sat there, mesmerized by what was before her. The wind whistled through the trees nearby and the old guesthouse seemed as though it was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t quite understand just what it was.
“Are you there, Isabel?” she asked, somehow not feeling entirely foolish to be speaking with a spirit. Leaving the canvas under a rock on the ground before her, she took a few steps toward the ruin, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared into it, the wind, now blowing briskly, chilling her through.
“What do you need?” she murmured. “You and Andrew… how can we bring you back together?”
She was so focused on what was before her that she didn’t hear anything else until the click of a pistol hammer sounded just behind her ear.
“Hello there, little one.”
Hannah screamed as she tried to whirl around, but his arm came fast and tight around her waist, holding her securely against him. She tried to squirm out of his grip, but it was no use – he held her fast.
“Let me go!” she shouted, trying to stamp down on his foot, but he only laughed sinisterly in her ear.
“What are you doing out here alone?” Byron asked, and Hannah recoiled from his breath upon her neck. “Don’t you know better but to be accompanied wherever you go?”
“What do you want?” she asked, breathing deeply as she tried to rid herself of the panic that had overtaken her. “Why are you doing this?”
The cold steel of the gun came to her temple, and as much as she attempted to hold it in, a whimper escaped her.
“I came here to Hollingswood with the expectation that you and my brother would be as miserable as I am,” he said, his voice bitter. “It’s what he deserves, after all. Then, much to my surprise, I find the two of you happily playing house together. I could have forgiven it, had he only made amends by providing me what I was due – a good portion of your dowry. But alas, my selfish brother turned me away at that. He told me to leave, in fact. So,” he continued airily, “I am only doing what is necessary, in order to even the scales.”
“Are you going to k-kill me?” she managed.
“Yes,” he said, as though pleased with her for understanding his motives, “then he can be as miserable as I will be.”
“I’m sure Edmund will reconsider giving you the dowry,” she managed, despite the quivering of her lip, which she willed to slow in order to not provide him with any satisfaction, nor fodder to use against them
. “I’m sure he had no idea what was at stake.”
“I’ve decided I no longer care,” he sneered. “If I must be miserable, then so will he.”
Despite the fear quaking through her, Hannah’s heart dropped at her brother-in-law’s words.
“That’s so sad,” she lamented, “stealing someone else’s happiness will bring you no joy.”
“Perhaps not,” he returned, “but it may bring me some satisfaction, which is the next best thing.”
“Byron!”
Hannah nearly cried at the sound of Edmund’s voice ringing through the air – just as the first drop of rain hit her square on the nose with a sting from the force of the wind upon which it fell.
Byron chuckled in her ear as he turned her around to face Edmund.
“Brother! I am so glad you have joined us. This will make it all the better. I had planned for you to find your lovely bride’s body here among the ruins, but to have you watch her demise… well, that will be just positively delightful.”
Edmund’s face was so full of torment that Hannah forgot her own fears, suddenly overcome anew by the need to survive, if only to prevent her husband from having to suffer through watching another death.
“You are mad,” Edmund said with disgust, and Hannah could feel Byron shrugging behind her.
“Not mad. Simply bitter. Bitter that no matter how things seem to be going wrong for you, you rise up and are made well again.”
“You do know that you could have had it all,” Edmund said, maintaining his even temper despite the wild panic in his eyes. “You still could. Let Hannah go and then return home. Make the best out of your marriage. It is possible – I know firsthand,” he said with a look over toward Hannah. “You have no suffering, no scarring. You can be a good man, Byron.”
“He may not bear scars,” Hannah finally spoke up, willing her husband to understand that he had nothing to be ashamed of, that there was far worse than the battle wounds he wore on his face and his heart. “But inwardly, his soul is black, Edmund. You have seen and you have felt the worst pain, but it has only caused you to be a different man, a better man. Byron clearly feels nothing at all.”
Always Your Love: A Gothic Regency Romance Page 8