A Heart Possessed

by Katherine Sutcliffe

  Stiff-shouldered, his face without expression, Trevor stepped away.

  "No," I said aloud. "Oh dear God."

  Nicholas looked at me, then to Trevor. Realization crept over my husband's features, turning his face to stone as he backed protectively toward me.

  Trevor looked down at me and smiled coldly. "Hello, Maggie," he said. "Does it surprise you that I know who you really are?"

  I nodded, too stunned to speak.

  "I didn't until Jane pushed you down the stairs. During the examination I noticed the brand on your arm. Being a physician, I recognized it immediately as the institution's mark. It didn't take long to contact the officials there and learn that an Ariel Margaret Rush-don had given birth to a child. Kevin."

  "Then you are the bloody bastard who's been drugging me," Nick said. "But Brabbs assured me—"

  "I replenished my stock of opium each time I traveled to York. Good God, Nick, are you so damned vulnerable as to believe I could be interested in something so mundane as raising tea in India? That last five thousand quid you advanced me went totally on opium for you and . . . others."

  It was I who spoke next. "My lord, it was a simple enough task to slip you the opium so you'd sleep for days, then when you awoke, confused, he would pretend that you did things or said things that, of course, you never did. Like the argument recently in the library. He cut his own lip to make me think you had hit him. It would be an easy enough task with a letting knife. I don't know why it didn't occur to me at the time."

  Trevor's blue eyes shifted from Nicholas back to me. "Had you not come along, Maggie, Jane and I might never have needed to resort to murder. We were so very close to convincing everyone, including Nick, that he was insane. But here you come, educated in the ways of insanity, and spoil it all."

  I felt my husband tremble with anger. His fists opened and closed at his sides. "Why, Trevor?" he demanded. "What have I ever done—"

  "Done? Good God, that should be obvious. You inherited Walthamstow, my dear brother, and I didn't. Coming up with a plan to get my hands on this estate was no easy feat, I might add. Drudging through these last ghastly years pretending to give a damn for the welfare of these peasants has been more than I could tolerate at times. You see, I could not kill you outright. Walthamstow would merely have passed on to George, then to Eugene. So I had to make you appear as if you could no longer function mentally. Then I could have gone to court and requested to be let in charge of the estate. Your accident and short bout of amnesia was a godsend, I might add. It made you look doubly the idiot."

  "But you had your allowance. I was always willing to advance you money if I felt the cause was justified."

  "You felt was justified," he sneered. "I am sick to death of hearing what you think, my good Lord Mai-ham. I am sick of living in your shadow and sick of crawling to you on my belly each time I need an advance. That yearly allowance is a pittance of what it would take to live in London or Paris, which is where I intend to go once I've washed my hands of you. God, I'll be glad to be rid of this dreary house and these dreary little people ..."

  I looked up at my husband as he asked, "And just where did my wife fit into this?"

  "Jane?" Trevor laughed. "Another fool. We were lovers for years, even while our mummy and daddy were arranging your betrothal with hers. I would never have married her, of course, but I convinced her otherwise so she would agree to participate in this scheme. I promised her I would sell Walthamstow when it was mine, take the money and go abroad with her to live, where no one knew us. The plan was without flaw. The argument you had with Jane that night in the stable had been prearranged. Jane goaded you into the argument and struck you, anticipating that you would strike her back. And of course you did. She pretended to lose consciousness and, confused fool that you were, you went roaming about the gardens looking for help. While you were gone we simply set the stables on fire."

  "But the body," Nicholas said in a dry voice. "What about the body?"

  "Samantha. We lured her to the stable with a note and bashed in her head with a rock. No one was ever the wiser. I hated to do it. Samantha was a more than adequate lover, but business is business . . ."

  Trevor looked at me again, even as my husband shifted before me. "Lovely child," I heard him say. "There was a time when I was actually fond of you. I thought of trying to seduce you, but soon realized it would do me no good. Like Samantha, you had eyes only for him. But unlike Samantha, you wouldn't settle for second best.

  "You were no threat to me until you married Nick, you know. Then only you could commit him. But you wouldn't. We thought the shove down the stairs would accomplish two things: Either it would get you out of the way, or it would convince you that he was unstable. Obviously it did neither. But then I found the brand, and learned that you are Kevin's true mother. And do you know what that means?" His mouth curled menacingly. "He's legitimate."

  Trevor jumped back and pulled a gun from beneath his coat as Nicholas took a sudden threatening step toward him.

  Raising the gun barrel toward my lord's heart, Trevor continued. "Had Kevin been illegitimate, Walthamstow would never have passed to him. Now, however, with your deaths, and proof that Ariel is Kevin's mother, it will all go to him. And, of course, he will need a guardian to handle the inheritance until he comes of age. I think it will be simple enough to convince everyone that Nick has again—in a fit of insanity—killed the newest Lady Malham, and himself."

  As he cocked the gun, I lunged, hoping the element of surprise would give my husband time to respond. But Trevor was too quick, slicing into my jaw with his elbow so I was sent spinning to the ground.

  My world then was a confusing cacophony of sounds, of men struggling and cursing. My head roared with the frightening noises. Suddenly, a pistol shot shattered the air and the bullet buried into the earth just inches from my face.

  So close, they were so close to the edge. My husband struggled but his brother was stronger, healthier, driving him back and back toward the ledge. I tried to stand but my already injured body rebelled, driving me to my knees. I wept wildly, begging for my husband's mercy until fear seized all strength from me and I fell flat into the wet, muddy turf.

  I lifted my face. The men struggled and one stumbled backward. I screamed in horror as I watched my husband slide over the ledge toward oblivion. In one last effort his hands came out and buried into the peat and his legs swung from side to side in an effort to gain a foothold. I saw my chance and threw myself over the ground, wrapping my hands over my husband's, twisting my fingers around his wrists in an effort to hold him. Yet his weight pulled him down, dragged at the tender precipice until I was certain that I would witness my lord spiraling into the misty yawning pit that had earlier devoured Jane.

  In my struggle to save my husband I had forgotten Trevor. Now I sensed him. Looking back over my shoulder, I watched as he approached, lifting a boulder with nearly superhuman strength.

  "Maggie!" my husband called. "Maggie, run! Now, before he can stop you!"

  My hands, wet with mire and sweat, gripped his wrists more tightly.

  "That's right, Maggie," Trevor snarled, "run while you can and be certain I will eventually find you again." He heaved up the boulder one last time.

  "Stop!" came the voice. "Oh dear God, Trevor, I beg you to stop this madness now!"

  Adrienne stood at the top of the rise. She pointed a gun directly at Trevor. "Please!" she cried. "Don't make me shoot you!"

  He gave a mirthless laugh. "Stupid bitch, where will you be without me? Who'll supply you with those fine little powders if you kill me?"

  "Stop it!" she screamed. "I won't let you hurt them. Oh God, I should have stopped you the moment I suspected. My dear, dear Nicholas, will he ever forgive me!"

  My hold burned into my husband's flesh even as his hooked fingers clawed more deeply into the dirt. He wouldn't hold out much longer. Neither of us would.

  Trevor moved again, and Adrienne wept, "Don't make me. Please don't make me!
I swear to you, I'll shoot!"

  He loomed over us, his eyes wild, his face masked by madness.

  The gun fired and Trevor spun, staring at his sister in disbelief. The rock dropped to the ground and slowly, very slowly, he seemed to float backward over the ledge and disappear through the mist.

  I cried out for Adrienne's help. It seemed an eternity before she fell on her knees beside me and grabbed my husband's arm. Together we pulled him to safety, embraced him in our arms, unable to believe the nightmare was ended.

  "Aye, it's over," I told him, kissing his brow and soothing his tremors. "It's all over, my lord husband. I swear it."

  And it was, even as Adrienne wept quietly beside us. He took my hand firmly in his, wrapped his arm around his sister's shoulder, and helped us to our feet. Without looking back, we returned to Walthamstow.

  Chapter 23

  Five years have passed since that wretched ordeal at Pikedaw Cliff. Walthamstow is once again a welcome place, her gardens blooming with flowers, thanks to Jim. Her hallways glow with candlelight and her windows gleam with sunlight, thanks to Matilda.

  Bea is still with us. When she learned of Jane's cruelty and deceit she burned the former Lady Malham's possessions and became a loyal, trusted servant and companion to our children. But she grows old and will soon leave us.

  Brabbs is still discussing retirement, though I suspect it will be some time before he entrusts the care of his patients to anyone new. Understandable. He is not totally pleased with my marriage to Lord Malham, but has grudgingly accepted it. He visits us regularly. Our children call him grandfather. That pleases him no end.

  Adrienne is married and expecting her first child in a fortnight. She lives in York, in a humble cottage whose door is always open to passersby. She seems tremendously happy in her life as a minister's wife.

  I will close this journal now, for I see in the distance my husband and two sons approaching, their hands in their pockets, their black hair tumbling in the moor wind. I study my husband's face and know he is well, though he has never totally recovered his memory. Mayhap he never will, and that's just as well. His spirits are high, although I know, when his eyes become distant, that he is remembering. I reassure him with a touch of my hand. His smile affirms to me that all is right.

  He is smiling now, so I must go.

  Know this: I am happy.

  And I am most assuredly loved.