“I’m a little rusty,” Damien admitted. “But I wanted to thank her for arranging our invitation.”
“What business did you say you’re in?”
“Ship-building,” Damien replied, recalling this was the business of the Buckleys.
“Ship-building, of course. Perhaps we shall run into one another in our business dealings.”
“Perhaps,” Damien answered, wishing the conversation would end.
“I’d like to get better acquainted, particularly given your obvious interest in my wife.” The music ended, and the dancers applauded. With that, Marcus stalked away to retrieve Celine from the dance floor.
“Oh, man, now you made him mad,” Michael lamented. “What were you thinking pulling a stunt like that?” he questioned.
“Yes, I agree,” Alexander echoed as Gray rejoined them. “You’re all over his… what was it you said? Radar?”
“Yeah, yeah. I realize that. But I had to do something. We can’t just stand here while history goes haywire and do nothing!”
“I judge it is time we leave,” Alexander suggested.
“No, we can’t leave now. We must stay and determine if we can learn anything to help us!” Damien insisted.
“This is quite unwise,” Alexander warned.
“I’m inclined to agree,” Gray chimed in. “But I wouldn’t mind staying,” he said as his eyes followed Celine around the room.
“You are all daft,” Alexander declared.
As the party continued, Michael and Damien noticed Stefano slip in through a side door. “Look!” Damien exclaimed, nodding his head toward the man.
“Yeah, I see him. What’s he doing here?” Michael inquired.
Stefano threaded through the guests, approaching Marcus. He touched his elbow, whispering a few words to him. Marcus nodded and answered him. He approached Celine, who was speaking with Lady Blackburn and her daughter. He spoke a few words to the group, leading Celine away. They talked for a few moments before Celine nodded. He kissed her cheek before leaving her.
The group watched Marcus depart with Stefano in tow. “Where’s he going?” Damien questioned.
“Urgent business?” Michael suggested.
“Is it normal for someone to leave their wife at a party?” Damien asked Alexander.
“Certainly, he’s left his driver to return Duchess Northcott home,” Alexander assured him.
They spent another forty-five minutes monitoring Celine’s activity. She spoke with several more people before returning to speak with Lady Blackburn. “It appears she’s leaving,” Alexander informed them. “She’s thanking Lady Blackburn for the evening, most likely. We should also depart.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Damien responded. “This is the perfect time to talk to her.”
“Talk to her?” Alexander questioned.
“Yes. Her husband is nowhere to be found. We can corner her alone and talk to her!”
“Corner her? Damien, I must put a stop to this madness!” Alexander responded. “I insist we depart.”
Damien ignored him. “There she goes,” he said to Michael. “Now’s our chance.”
“Yep, let’s go,” Michael agreed.
“Gentlemen!” Alexander began as Michael and Damien followed Celine out of the ballroom. He groaned as he raced to catch up to them. Gray followed him.
They all caught up with Celine as she stood fastening her cape near the front door, waiting for her carriage.
“Celine!” Damien called to her. “We must speak to you. Alone.” He grasped her wrist, dragging her to a nearby unoccupied sitting room.
“Mr. Carlyle!” she exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Sorry, Celine. But we have to speak with you,” Damien insisted.
“My apologies, Duchess. My cousin may have imbibed too many cocktails,” Alexander said in an attempt to smooth things over.
“No. No, I’m not drunk,” Damien assured her. “We have to talk. About your life.”
“I’m baffled, Mr. Carlyle. I do not understand the meaning of your statements.”
“Something happened, Celine. Something went wrong. It’s hard to explain this but, you’re not supposed to be married to Marcus Northcott,” Damien explained.
“I beg your pardon?!” Celine spat.
“He’s right, Celine,” Michael chimed in. “The night you promised yourself to him, when you became what you are, it wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”
Celine’s face was a mask of confusion and shock. “We were there that night, Celine, we realize what happened.”
“You most certainly were not,” Celine answered.
“We were supposed to be!” Damien insisted. “Something went haywire. But you weren’t supposed to marry him! We were supposed to be there to help you. To stop you from joining his… cult.”
Celine sighed. “Gentlemen, I have little idea as to what you are referring to. I believe you to be quite mad and I plan to inform my husband of this… outburst.”
“Celine, please listen,” Damien begged her.
“I will do nothing of the sort. Mr. Buckley, I am shocked you are party to this!” she addressed Alexander. “And you, Mr. Buckley,” she added, addressing Grayson.
“That night, you found out your father was dead. You wept over his dead body. And Marcus informed you he would be your new family. He asked you to kill the man who killed your father. To bring him to justice. It all happened in a cave near your sister’s house in Martinique.”
“You do not know of what you speak!”
“Are we wrong?”
“Quite!” Celine answered.
“Then tell me, what did we get wrong?” Damien questioned, blocking her from leaving the room as she stepped forward.
“I shall not! Stand aside, Mr. Carlyle or I shall scream.”
“Just explain how we were wrong, and we’ll drop the entire thing. Please.”
“I did not kill the man,” Celine answered. She struggled for a moment. “I… I assumed I had mortally wounded him, but Marcus assured me he would survive. He asked me to trust him. My husband was correct.”
“Wait, wait, wait, he lived? The guy who murdered your father?” Michael inquired.
“Yes, he survived. He’s still alive to this day, in fact. I have not committed murder at my husband’s behest. Now, as you can see, he holds no malevolent interests.”
“Ha!” Damien laughed. “No malevolent interests? Celine, he is the one responsible for your father’s death.”
“I beg your pardon?!”
“Yes, Marcus Northcott is responsible for your father’s death. He ordered that man to kill the Marquis.”
“I have heard enough of this nonsense. I shall listen to no more! My husband is no more responsible for my father’s death than you or I. How dare you impugn his reputation! I shall not stand for this, sir!”
“We’re telling the truth,” Michael informed her. “Believe it or not, we are. We’re not doing this to hurt you. We’re trying to help you.”
“That’s right,” Damien added. “Stop and consider what we’ve said for a minute, Celine. You’re smart and you’re good at reading people. You’ve got instincts. Use them. Marcus did this to force you to be alone. He promised he’d take care of you, that he’d be your family. He wanted you to feel alone and have no other choice but to turn to him.”
“Gentlemen, I have listened to enough. I warn you to keep your distance from this day forward. If you continue to harass me in this manner, I shall have no choice but to convey your slanderous words to my husband. Good night!” She stormed from the room, disappearing through the front door and into her carriage. The carriage pulled away as they watched from the window.
“Well, that was an epic fail,” Michael stated.
“That was pure madness, gentlemen,” Alexander replied. “If she relays this to Duke Northcott… I do not wish to imagine the repercussions.”
“I’m sorry, Alexander,” Damien apologized. “But we had to do som
ething. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”
“Your so-called opportunity may cost us our business if not our lives,” Alexander protested. “Now that you’ve made us look like fools and ruined us socially, I suggest we leave before you do any more damage. Unless, of course, you’d like to burn the house down before we depart for good measure.”
Damien opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find any words to address the situation. He nodded, a sheepish expression on his face. They climbed into their carriage when it arrived and returned to the Buckley house.
When they arrived home, Damien attempted to apologize again. “I’m sorry, Alexander. I just…” His voice trailed off as he searched for more words.
“She’s never behaved like this before,” Michael continued. “Every other time, we’ve just been honest with her and she’s understood and helped us.”
“Yeah,” Damien added, picking up on Michael’s assessment. “To the point of telling her we were from the future. She just accepted it and jumped right in to help us. I never expected her to behave this way.”
Alexander did not respond right away. “It is finished. I hope to salvage the situation… somehow. Please, next time, discuss these things before you accost the Duchess.”
Michael and Damien nodded then excused themselves, unable to make any further amends with Alexander and Gray. Neither of them could sleep, instead commiserating in Damien’s room.
“Well, we really messed this up,” Michael remarked as he entered Damien’s room in his nightclothes, borrowed from Alexander.
“In more than one way,” Damien agreed.
“How could this happen? Did that one electric arc really screw up history this bad?”
Damien rubbed his face. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Perhaps the blue arc was some fluke, and we aren’t meant to change anything. Maybe we’re just stuck here.”
“No, nope. Not going to accept that.”
“We may have no choice.”
“I am NOT living in an era without bathrooms. We have to get back home!”
“Don’t worry, we may not live long here.”
“Why?”
“Celine hates us. She’s probably telling the Duke everything we said about him right now. And then he’ll kill us.”
“What a mess,” Michael groaned, defeated. He sunk into the armchair in Damien’s room.
“I feel really bad about Alexander. The Duke thinks we’re cousins. He’ll destroy Alexander and Gray right along with us.”
“Yeah, we really didn’t think this one through at all,” Michael admitted.
“It was my fault,” Damien answered. “I couldn’t just do nothing and wait and see how things played out. I never imagined she’d be so… loyal to that creep.”
“I guess she’s had years of practice. It’s been over twenty years since that night.”
“Damn, what a fool I was,” Damien lamented.
“Don’t beat yourself up. I didn’t stop you. I considered it a good idea, too.”
They sat in silence for twenty minutes before Michael suggested they try to sleep. Damien agreed, although he was sure he wouldn’t manage to sleep. They would reconvene in the morning to attempt to salvage the situation.
Celine glanced out of the window as she pulled away from the Blackburn manor. The conversation she experienced within the walls replayed in her mind. It troubled her. It was, of course, nonsense, she assured herself. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to block her musings.
She found herself unable to stop dwelling on the subject. The younger Mr. Carlyle’s face burned through her memory. His eyes were so honest. His impassioned speech seemed candid. Did he honestly believe what he said?
Celine replayed the events of her sixteenth birthday in her mind. She recalled as though it were yesterday her father’s body flung in front of her, cold and stiff. Tears formed in her eyes. She held them back. She recalled Marcus pulling her away from her father’s body and wiping her tears. She recalled his promise. He pledged to protect her, provide for her, become her family. He vowed to give her anything her heart desired. She refused to give in at first. Only after hours had she weakened.
Distraught and alone, she trusted him and allowed him to guide her hand in stabbing her father’s murderer. Celine gasped as thick red blood poured from his chest. Marcus assured her the wound was not fatal, but Celine swore the man breathed his last, raspy breath. After a few moments spent with the body, Marcus stood, extending his hand toward the dead man.
To Celine’s surprise, the man rose, appearing healed. She advocated he be turned over to the authorities, but Marcus disagreed, telling her the man may prove useful to them. “You must trust me, Celine,” he said. “From this day forward, you must trust me. You are mine eternally.” Celine agreed with his decision, assuming him to be much more experienced in these matters.
The memory faded from Celine’s mind. She considered the information provided by the Carlyles. Was Marcus responsible for the entire scenario? Had he orchestrated her father’s death to trap her into marriage? Damien’s first words echoed in her mind. “We were there, we were supposed to be there. We were supposed to help you.” What did they mean?
The carriage pulled to a stop outside her home. She waited for the footman to assist her into the house. Her maid readied her for bed before retiring herself. Celine stared in the mirror, unable to dismiss the conversation with the Carlyles.
As she brushed her hair, a knock sounded at her door. “Come in,” she voiced.
Marcus entered her room. “Still awake?” he inquired.
“I was about to retire.”
“My apologies for departing early from the party. Something came up that required my immediate attention.”
“There is no need for an apology, husband,” Celine responded.
“All the same, I prefer to voice it. I trust there were no further… incidents with the Buckleys or their cousins, the Carlyles?”
“No,” Celine lied. “I departed without speaking to them.”
“I am glad they did not trouble you further, my dear.”
“’Tis no trouble,” Celine answered.
“I’m not sure your toes would agree,” Marcus replied. “Well, doubtless, you are tired. I shall leave you to sleep.” He kissed her forehead and departed from the room.
“Good night,” she replied as he left.
Celine climbed into bed, relaxing back into the pillows behind her. She hadn’t told her husband about her strange encounter with the Carlyles. Why, she wondered? The question plagued her until she drifted off to sleep.
Present day, Bucksville
Celine raced down the hall, bursting into the dining room. “Something is happening, please come,” she said to Millie.
Millie leapt from her seat, following Celine upstairs to the bedrooms. The various monitoring equipment showed a variety of activity. Damien’s heart rate increased, along with his breathing. His blood pressure was spiking. His brain showed high levels of activity.
“Damien?” Millie inquired. “Can you hear us? Damien?” Damien did not respond. “I’d like to check Michael, just a moment.” Millie disappeared from the room, returning in minutes. “He is the same. Elevated heart rate, breathing and blood pressure with high levels of brain activity.”
“What does it mean, Millie?” Gray questioned.
“They’re experiencing something. A dream possibly,” she suggested.
“At the exact same time?” Celine queried.
“That is odd, I agree. Even if this is an effect from the shock wave, their bodies would respond and recuperate differently. It’s almost as though they are responding to a stimulus. Yet there is no stimulus in common. No similar lights, sounds, voices. They aren’t even in the same room.”
“Is there anything we can do to soothe them?”
“Continue to stay with them, talk to them,” Millie suggested. “I’d like to monitor them and note when this activity stops.”
“I wil
l bring the rest of your dinner to you,” Alexander offered.
“Thank you. I’d prefer to stay near them in case anything changes.”
“Should we be concerned?” Celine asked.
“Not at this time. However, the elevated heart rate could lead to something more serious. I prefer to take no chances.”
Celine nodded in agreement. Gray placed his arm around her shoulders, steadying her as she gazed at Damien’s limp form, covered in two blankets. What is happening, Damien, she wondered?
Chapter 19
1812, London
Alexander departed from the house early the next morning, prior to breakfast. The scene the previous evening with Duchess Northcott had the potential to bring serious repercussions. If Duchess Northcott told her husband about the incident, he would exact revenge. Alexander hoped Marcus’ urgent business that drew him from the party lasted well into the evening, and Celine hadn’t the chance to speak with him about it yet.
This still allowed her the opportunity to discuss the subject over breakfast. He hoped she didn’t. He planned to call on her early and determine if there was any way to salvage the situation and avoid a confrontation with Duke Northcott. He would appeal to her good nature, throw himself on her mercy. With luck, he would convince her to forget the incident and make no mention of it to her husband.
He stationed himself down the street from the Northcott residence. Nervous energy filled him as he watched the house. By mid-morning, Duke Northcott emerged, strolling down the street. Alexander allowed him to pass before he hurried to the residence.
Knocking at the door, he waited for a response. The butler answered. “Yes?”
“Mr. Alexander Buckley to see Duchess Northcott,” Alexander presented himself.
“At this hour? The Duchess is still abed.”
“Please tell her I am here. It is quite urgent,” Alexander insisted.
“You should return at a decent hour with your business, sir,” the butler answered, swinging the door closed.
Alexander stopped him. “Please, sir, I would prefer that you announce me now. The business cannot wait. I believe the Duchess will appreciate your service in this matter.”
Gone: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 3) Page 22