‡
Silently, Grayson climbed from his bed and hastened to pull on his trousers; then his shirt as he followed the shadowy form out of the room and into the next. The cold steel of his pistol was pressed firmly in his hand.
Everything happened too quickly.
A blood-curdling scream split the air and the steely blade of the knife plunged deeply into the chest of the hapless victim on the chair.
He was too late. Grayson took aim and pulled the trigger, firing a shot into the darkened room. He missed.
Grayson fumbled to dispense the second bullet.
Another blood-curdling scream split the air. The shadowy figure lifted the knife again and brought it down forcefully, plunging the blade even deeper.
Grayson raised the gun once again, and fired. This time he did not miss his target.
Milford ran into the chamber when the second shot rang out. He stumbled back, his ears ringing. Thoughts of failure wreaked havoc in his mind. Not only had he failed Sebastian, but all the others involved in the legend as well. His entire purpose for being here was for naught. The legend would never be brought to fruition. The sight before him crushed all hope from his heart. In front of him, Katherine lay on the floor, soaked in blood. Sebastian leaned across her motionless body.
Slowly, Milford walked towards the devastating scene. Tears rolled down his face, blurring his vision. He grabbed a chair for support. His chest tightened. Another Katherine moved from the shadows across the room. Her mouth was moving, but he could hear no words as she leaned down next to her own lifeless body.
A pool of blood seeped across the stone floor, soaking into the edge of the carpet.
The horror of the situation came crashing down on Milford. The roar of his heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears, drowning out all other sound. His mind balked at what he was seeing. “Oh no!” he gasped out in shock as the only reasonable explanation loomed right before his eyes, shaking him to his core. Katherine was dead and now he was seeing the poor girl’s ghost.
Milford could not take the shock. They were already dead, every one of them. Or so he thought, and for the first time in four centuries, Milford fainted.
Sebastian heard a loud thud over his shoulder and lifted his head. He pulled his arm away from Katherine, and scrambled to his feet. “Milford!” Sebastian rushed to his side and leaned down. “Wake up, man!” He tapped Milford’s face gently as he tried to rouse him.
Milford’s eyelids fluttered open. Sebastian’s face was a blur, fading in and out of focus. He gulped back another wave of dread. Was he a ghost too? It was just too much for poor Milford to process and he fainted once more.
“Grayson, help me!” Sebastian leaned down and grabbed Milford under his arms.
“What happened to him?” Grayson asked, helping place Milford on the bed.
“I do not know.” He stood back and raked his hands over his face. “What in the hell was that?” he asked, turning. There was no answer…Grayson was gone.
‡
“Isabelle!” Grayson ran from the room. He rushed into their room. She was not there. He poked his head in Devlin’s room. “Have you seen Isabelle?”
“Grayson…wait!” Devlin tried to pull himself from the bed. “Bloody Hell!” In agony, he fell back onto the mattress. “What is going on?”
“I am sorry Devlin, I do not have time. I have to find Isabelle.” And with that, Grayson disappeared from sight, again.
‡
Lying in a growing pool of blood, still holding the knife in her gnarled hand, the disfigured woman was only a few feet from me. Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision. “Oh my God.” I turned away and wiped my eyes. A moment later I heard a strange scraping sound and bracing myself for the gruesome sight, I turned back around. My breath fled my lungs. A puddle of blood remained but no woman.
“Where did she go?” I scrambled up to my feet. My eyes fell on the side of the bed where Sebastian was standing. The woman was right behind him. Her arm raised in the air, the long knife was plunging towards his back as he leaned over Milford on the bed. I tried to yell, but my voice failed me, as did my feet when I tried to move. It was as though something was stopping me from interfering.
“Victoria Nooo!” Isabelle screamed. “He is my son! He is MY SON! Not Clive’s!” she screamed again, frantically now, begging, as tears slid down her face.
The disfigured woman stopped her knife in mid-air, mere inches from Sebastian’s back. Slowly, she turned and looked at Isabelle…listening.
“I swear he is nothing like Clive. I swear to you on all that we once shared together. Please put the knife down, Victoria, please,” Isabelle begged her friend from so long ago, sobbing as tears blurred her vision. She tried to envision her friend, as she once was—breathtakingly beautiful.
There was no beauty left now, only an awful disfigurement.
Images of another time came into Isabelle’s mind—Victoria, laughing in the sunlight with her hair blowing gently in the wind. The violet color of her eyes was just as beautiful, but one eye sagged down, hanging lower than the other one. She looked like a monster. Isabelle bit back her revulsion, fighting the sickness in her stomach.
Sebastian was frozen in place. He heard Isabelle scream. Who in the hell was she talking about? And why in the hell was she screaming like a lunatic? Then he turned and saw a knife hovering above him. He knew he should do something, but for some reason, he could not. Instead, Isabelle’s words registered slowly in his mind…her son.
The woman lowered the knife. It fell from her gnarled fingers and clattered loudly to the floor. “Isabelle,” she said hoarsely and reached out her hand. She stumbled forward and collapsed onto the floor.
Isabelle ran over and knelt down beside Victoria. She carefully lifted her dearest friend’s head and gently placed it in her lap.
Tears flowed freely from her eyes. Reminded once more of the broken porcelain doll she came upon so many years before…
MEMORY RAVENHURSTTHE PAST
“Oh Isabelle, do you think he will come with us?” Victoria asked excitedly.
“Does it really matter? I promise we will have a grand time, with or without Clive,” Isabelle said halfheartedly.
“But you promised,” Victoria complained.
Isabelle wished Victoria would get over her fascination with Clive. He was not good for her. “I know, but even I ca not make Clive do something when he doesn’t want to.”
Victoria smiled, lifting her brow at Isabelle in challenge
“Fine, I will think of something,” Isabelle said, relenting. Victoria could talk her into anything….
Then her mind came crashing back to the present. She ran her hand across her friend’s brow, pushing her hair away from her disfigured face as her blood seeped into her gown, turning the material red. She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. How she wished she had been stronger that night. She wished she were stronger many other times in her life as well. “I am so sorry for not being strong enough for you,” she cried out suddenly. “Please forgive me, Victoria, please forgive me,” she begged, sobbing uncontrollably now.
Victoria reached out her gnarled hand and gently caressed Isabelle’s cheek. She gave Isabelle a secret smile, the one she always gave her. “It is not your fault,” she whispered hoarsely, then coughed, sputtering blood.
Isabelle used her skirt to wipe the spatter of blood from Victoria’s face. She shook all over, trying to contain her emotions. Victoria’s face was not the perfect canvas it once was. And even though her eyes were tormented, Isabelle still recalled the girl she once was and hugged her friend even closer. She leaned in, close to her ear, and whispered secrets they only shared with one another. These secrets were for Victoria’s ears alone.
Victoria gazed up at her friend, smiling, her face resuming the innocence of the girl she once was, full of beauty and life. And for once, the other voice that constantly plagued her subsided.
Isabelle’s lips quivered as she smiled back at her
with all the love and tenderness she was feeling. “It is going to be all right,” she assured her, gathering her limp body closer to her chest. She rocked her back and forth, as a mother would a child. Tears flowed freely down her face all the while.
Victoria let her demons go. Her mind felt complete for the first time in so many years. She closed her eyes, relishing the comfort her friend offered her once more. As the last dregs of life drained from her body, Victoria Elizabeth Duprè found peace in the arms of the only person she ever truly loved…Isabelle.
LOSS
RAVENHURST
THE full wrath of the storm was upon Ravenhurst. It blew in a frenzy of wild abandon, making the trees crash against the windows, banging out their own fury as the wind howled with eerie delight down the deserted corridors. It was a perfect setting to mourn the loss of Victoria Duprè.
“Would someone please assist me downstairs before I fall to my death?” Devlin called out indignantly from the top of the stairs. “I will not be kept up here like a prisoner. Do you hear me?” he called out again.
No answer.
“Is anyone listening to me?” His voice took on a distinct whining edge this time.
Sebastian gritted his teeth, the tension in his shoulders palpable. “I am not getting that blathering idiot, so do not ask.” He gave Isabelle a dark glare.
I fidgeted with the fabric on the arm of the chair as I restlessly bounced my leg under my gown. I darted a quick glance up at Sebastian. He was facing the fire, his profile stern, unreadable, his shoulders tense; he looked ready to snap.
“Someone please…help me,” Devlin called out again.
I wanted to go and help him down the stairs but I did not dare, not with Sebastian in the state he was in. I wasn’t real sure how he was handling what happened upstairs. He did not say a word to anyone after the confession/incident. He looked so distant, I wanted to help him, but had no idea what to do.
Grayson was about to say something but he heard Devlin again, his own shoulders tensed this time. “I will get him,” he said to no one in particular and left the room to retrieve Devlin.
Devlin clutched onto the railing with both hands and leaned over as far as he could so his voice would carry the farthest distance. He opened his mouth, ready to let a really good holler go when Grayson materialized at the bottom of the stairs.
“Do not,” he warned. He shook his head and mumbled in irritation. “My God man, you sound worse than a woman.”
Devlin clamped his mouth shut and tensed from the off-putting remark. Under normal circumstances, he would have parried back with a verbal blow of his own, but Devlin may be many things, a fool he was not. If he did not keep his mouth shut, he may very well be stuck up here, all alone, for the duration of the storm.
It was already bad enough that he had had to endure the horrific sounds coming from Sebastian’s room when all hell broke loose. He did not know what was going on the entire time. He thought he would go mad with worry. He tried to see what was happening, but stumbled on the rug and was unable to get back up. He was in no hurry to repeat that particular performance, so instead, he stood patiently and waited for Grayson.
“Devlin, this may hurt a little,” Grayson said as he easily lifted him into his arms.
Devlin was not easily surprised, but when Grayson hoisted him into his arms, he could not stop his awe from showing. Content, he wrapped his arms around Grayson’s neck, and for the first time in his life, had the oddest sensation of security.
Grayson walked into the library and settled Devlin onto the settee, carefully.
Devlin had no idea how to react to such kindness. Therefore, he did the only thing he could think of. He smiled up at Grayson with all the gratitude he felt and gave him one of his rare, real smiles.
Grayson chuckled at the boyish grin on Devlin’s face, realizing for the first time that he was not such a bad sort after all. He had to resist the urge to ruffle the top of Devlin’s head as one would a small lad as a show of affection. He shook his head. The stress of the day had obviously caught up with him. He walked away and stood next to Isabelle.
I saw the exchange between Devlin and Grayson and was instantly relieved. At least someone else seemed to have come to a similar conclusion about Devlin as I had. Devlin, in all seriousness, was not much more than a child in so many ways. The smallest kindness shown to him turned the wastrel into a child seeking approval.
Sebastian thumped his fingers on the top of the mantle. One, two, three, four…it was not working; he needed answers. He turned from the fire, his face a façade of calm indifference but someone with an assessing eye would notice his anger simmered just below the surface, ready to explode at any given moment. “Would someone like to tell me what in the hell just happened up there?”
Devlin rolled his eyes. “Were you not listening?” he asked Sebastian pointedly, annoyed. “Grayson just carried me down the stairs. Good Lord, Sebastian, you should really pay closer attention to what people are doing.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth…he was going to kill him. He wondered where the woman’s knife who tried to kill him was. If Devlin did not shut up, he would use it on him. “I am not talking about that. I am talking about the woman in my room who tried to make me a bloody pin cushion.”
“Well, I was not in there per se, but it would seem she wanted to kill you,” Devlin supplied.
Sebastian counted backward from ten as he exhaled.
“That was my friend, Victoria, Marguerite’s mother,” Isabelle stated numbly.
“Could you please explain why she tried to kill me?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“Who did she stab?” Devlin asked.
“No one. I made a dummy,” Sebastian gritted.
“Good thinking,” Grayson said.
Devlin rolled his eyes.
“I am waiting, Isabelle,” Sebastian said tersely.
“I really can not say,” she answered in the same monotone voice.
Sebastian gaped at her. “You really can not say…really, Isabelle?” He laughed then, but it had a bitter edge to it. “Or shall I call you mother?” He waited for an answer. Nothing. It was typical. “Well, which is it?”
“Oh God, Sebastian, I am so sorry,” Isabelle gushed, wringing her hands together.
“Sorry?” He widened his eyes. “What are you sorry for? That you are my mother or sorry she was trying to kill me?” he asked bitterly.
Isabelle visibly flinched. “For both!” she yelled, her voice breaking. She sounded completely mad. It did not matter. The constant front she had put up all these years was now crumbling to bits. She broke down and covered her face, her body wracked with anguished sobs.
“There, there, it is all right.” Grayson sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her.
Devlin shuddered and clenched his hands together. Her crazy outburst instantly reminded him of his own mother and brought forth yet another unhappy memory of his own childhood. Maybe he was not too off base when he locked Isabelle up in the cellar. Apparently, she was only a few steps away from becoming a permanent resident in Bedlam. He let out a shaky breath; his hand shaking slightly as he lifted it to smooth a nonexistent wrinkle from his shirt. Well, it was a good thing she had Grayson, who seemed able to tolerate Isabelle’s insane outburst because Devlin knew with certainty he could not.
“It is all right.” Grayson gathered Isabelle closer in his arms until her sobs quieted. “You must tell him,” he said, already guessing most of the burden she had been carrying for so long.
Isabelle lifted her watery gaze to his handsome face and drew strength from him. She pushed up from the chair and held it for support. “Everyone, I have something to tell you,” she began, her voice cracking. “Please hear me out before you ask any questions. I am afraid I will not have the nerve or strength to continue if I am interrupted.” She exhaled another shaky breath as her face took on a faraway look. “I originally met Victoria abroad. It did not take very long for us to become close friends.
I was actually amazed that she wanted to befriend me at all. She was beautiful, beyond compare, and I was immediately enamored with her. Not in the way a man and a woman are, but to me, she was perfect in so many ways. I guess I was also in awe of her beauty. She was breathtaking.” Pieces of Isabelle’s dark-blonde hair fluttered around her face as she released another shaky breath.
“Anyway, when we finally returned to London, she was informed it was not safe to return home. She was French, you see, and we were at war with France. I invited her to stay on at Ravenhurst until it was safe for her to return to her own country.” She paused and shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. “We did have the grandest times,” she continued wistfully.
“Clive was just as enamored by her beauty as I was. At first, he escorted us to parties and such. He even took both of us to our fittings for the latest fashions. Still, I had no idea what Victoria ever saw in Clive. He was not a very nice person but he did have something. Everyone clamored for his attention and Victoria was not immune either. I never saw it.” She shook her head.
“Victoria seemed to think the sun rose and set on him.” She paused and laughed bitterly. “He never reciprocated her feelings. Actually, he thwarted her advances at every turn. She was the most magnificent creature either of us had ever encountered, and yet he pushed her away. And even though he was seemingly uninterested, he still indulged us in our whims.” She sighed.
A Knight Such as This: Enhanced with Interactive Content: (Time Travel Romance) Book 1 & 2 (Ravenhurst Series) Page 27