He stubbed out his cigar and then bellowed to his butler. “Brandy, Pearson! I am in dire need.”
Pearson rushed to his side and poured him a drink from a decanter.
“Thank you. You may leave now.”
“One more thing, master. Would the lady like to keep the white rose? Millie is clearing the table and is inquiring.”
“Yes, yes, by all means, bring her the flower.” Her eyes appeared to sparkle. “You did wish to keep it, do you not?”
“Yes, I do.”
A moment later Pearson returned with the rose in hand. “Miss Woodard, I believe this is yours,” he said. Caroline took it from his hand, brought the flower to her nose, and inhaled the fragrance.
“That is enough, Pearson. You may go now.” His butler nodded and retreated from the room.
“When I take you back to your chamber, Caroline, I will tell you of the significance of the white rose. It carries a particular meaning to me,” Bramwell said. “And since we are sharing, I shall explain it fully.”
“Well, I look forward to hearing it,” she replied. She gently laid the flower across her lap and settled back into her chair.
“Where should I start?” Bramwell pondered aloud.
“Why did you live together as lovers rather than husband and wife?”
Caroline’s gaze showed her disapproval over their former immoral arrangement. “Your brazenness is astounding. You get right to the point, don’t you?”
She flashed him a superior glance. “And why shouldn’t I?”
Surrendering to her insistent prodding, he began the sordid tale. “Rebecca and I loved each other. Her father is an earl, well respected in society, and wealthy. He disapproved of Rebecca being courted by a mere tradesman, especially one who mined tin. The earl felt that I was beneath his daughter and that she deserved better. Rebecca, on the other hand, disagreed. Upon my urging, she ran away from her home and came to live with me.”
“Then why didn’t you marry?”
“We saw no need, frankly. Love became the written vow in our hearts. Neither of us was religious, so the morality of our sharing a bed out of wedlock was of little consequence.” Bramwell pondered a moment longer. “Rebecca was independent in character—as headstrong and defiant as you. Her one flaw, if I must choose one, is that she was intent on getting what she wanted out of life, even at the expense of others.”
“Then why did you love her?”
Bramwell avoided her question for a moment, shifting his eyes to the fire. After taking a sip of brandy and brooding about his response, he answered. “Love is a strange thing, Caroline. There is a fine line between lust, passion, and adoration. It often blurs when emotions reign over your good senses. You cannot discern which of the three controls your heart.”
Caroline’s face flushed, and she nervously fidgeted with her skirt. “Well, I find it difficult to accept,” she admitted in a low voice. After a few moments, she raised her head and looked at him after regaining her composure. “From what I have gathered from Darby and others, you did plan to marry Rebecca but something happened.”
“Yes, something happened,” he replied. Bramwell pulled his gaze from Caroline and glanced into the flames. He wanted to quench her curiosity so the questions would cease. He turned his head back in her direction and with somber eyes spoke. “Well, if you ask the townspeople, they will tell you that they think I murdered her,” he said with a sly smile.
Caroline brought her hand to her mouth and gasped. Her eyes grew wide with alarm. “Murdered?”
“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “I shall not strangle you as you sit in my chair so comfortably with a broken leg resting upon my stool.” Bramwell oddly enjoyed the tease and look of terror contorting her pretty face. Did she honestly take him for a demented killer?
“Surely the rumors are a jest.” She tried to dismiss the gossip, but he could tell by the tone of her voice that she considered the possibility.
Bramwell rose to his feet, grasped the iron poker, and began shoving it into the flaming logs. “Well, let us just say I do not possess the most stellar reputation in Pendeen. After all, we were by all accounts living in sin.” After his latest jab, he picked up another log and threw it into the flames. “My temper seems to offend others. Rebecca and I were not without our arguments.”
He replaced the poker into the stand and then bellowed, “Pearson!”
A moment later, the butler scurried into the room. “Yes, sir?”
“Fill my glass again and get the young lady another if she wishes,” he ordered. Bramwell flopped back into the chair.
“Oh, no. Nothing more for me,” Caroline replied.
“It will settle your nerves,” Bramwell snickered.
“I… I’m not nervous, Mr. Croft.” She pulled her shoulders back in protest.
He studied her for a moment. “Oh, it is Mr. Croft now, rather than Bramwell. My murderous statement has put you off, I see.”
Pearson groaned aloud. “Sir, you did not tell the young lady of the rumors about town, did you?”
Bramwell laughed. “Good fellow, I need some amusement once in a while.”
Pearson looked at Caroline and caught her gaze. “I assure you, the master did not murder Lady Bellingham. It is nothing more than a rumor meant to sully his good name.” He reached over and patted Caroline on the shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want another?”
“Well, maybe a little,” she agreed.
He smiled. “Very well, miss.”
Bramwell kept his gaze upon her until she found the courage to look at him again. He had played his little game, so he may as well tell her the rest of the story.
“Rebecca loved the sea. The day before our wedding, she convinced me to take out my sailboat. The waters were quiet enough upon our departure, but then a squall arose.” He pulled his gaze away from Caroline and looked at Merlin sleeping soundly on the floor. “The boat capsized. I could not save her, and she drowned. That is the whole of it, so please ask me no more.”
He clenched his hands together until his knuckles grew white, angry that he had to resurrect memories. Everyone believed his story, except for a few who flapped their tongues about town conceiving homicidal tales.
She hesitated and then pressed him for more. “May I ask where she is laid to rest?”
“Laid to rest?” What a ludicrous question to ask him, he thought. “Only the devil knows. We never found her body,” he hastily uttered. Bramwell shifted in his chair, wishing the interrogation would end.
“And what of you? How did you survive?”
“I should have died just like her,” he lamented. “Only the heavens above had different plans, it seems. My body washed ashore with enough life left in it to survive. Darby and Pearson found me.”
“I am so sorry for upsetting you,” Caroline said. Her voice trembled. “It must be difficult to lose someone you love.”
She fidgeted as if she still worried over his murderous revelation. He leaned forward and clasped one of her hands—it was stone cold. “Have you ever been in love, Caroline?” He gently rubbed her flesh with his thumb, enjoying the feeling of silky skin. As his eyes drifted toward the rose, he pondered whether he should tell her of its meaning.
“I think you know the answer to that question,” she tartly replied. Slowly she pulled her hand away, noticeably uncomfortable over his approach. “Men find me too bullheaded to consider me marriageable material.”
With a slight curl of his lip, Bramwell picked up the rose from her lap and began to twirl it between his fingers. “It is obvious that no one has succeeded in taming your personality.” He eyes slowly drifted to her bosom. “I think you would enjoy being tamed by a real man. In fact, spirited women like you usually enjoy a strong male to take charge of… everything.”
“Tamed?” Her mouth gaped open. “Is that how you see me, Mr. Croft, as a lady to be tamed?”
Pearson returned, clearing his throat. “Your drink,” he announced, handing the glass to Carol
ine. “And yours,” he sternly said. He raised his brow at Bramwell as if to scold him for continuing to tease their guest.
“Drink up,” he said. “And then I’ll take you to bed.”
“You will do no such thing!”
Bramwell roared a hearty laugh. Pearson snickered and retreated. “Oh, dear God, I have not felt so much amusement in months as I do with you at this moment.” He took a large gulp of his drink. “I have no intention of bedding you, Caroline. I meant that I would carry you to bed.”
“Oh,” she replied sheepishly. “The way that you said the words sounded as if you inferred…”
“I inferred nothing. If I wanted to bed you, my dear, you would know it,” he harshly replied.
The conversation had begun to eat at his resolve. Bramwell began to feel an arousal to do just that, so he rose to his feet, grabbed the poker, and tried to pull his mind away from the female who sat only a few feet away. It is the dress she wears, he pondered. Surely it taunts me, as does the rose in her lap. Damnable thing to be a man without a woman to enjoy. Damnable indeed.
As he continued to look into the fire, Caroline had ceased any further discussion. He heard an occasional restless sigh leave her lungs. A moment later, he knew he had to eradicate himself from her presence, or he would tame her one way or the other.
“I think you have had enough,” he boldly announced. He took the glass from her hand and set it on the table. “It’s time for bed.”
Without a further word, he slipped his arms underneath her body and picked her up. The rose fell to the floor.
“My rose,” she complained, pointing toward it as he walked her toward the stairs.
“Leave it.” With large strides, he took the stairs swiftly to the top and walked to the bedchamber. Gently he laid her upon the bed, trying not to jar her leg. As he looked down upon her startled expression, he raked his hands through his hair, feeling as if he had gone mad. In the dim light, she looked like Rebecca, waiting for him to join her beneath the soft covers. He wanted her body, and his hand tingled at the thought of intimately touching the treasure between her legs.
“I will call Millie to tend to you,” he snarled in frustration. In a sweeping turn, he exited the room and slammed the door behind him.
When he returned downstairs, Merlin was sniffing the rose laying on the floor. As if sensing displeasure from his master, the dog returned to his spot in front of the fireplace and sat down. Bramwell bent over, picked up the flower, and tossed it into the flames. The petals melted from the heat and disappeared into ash. He would not give Caroline another rose as long as she lay upon Rebecca’s bed.
Secret Door
Caroline found it impossible to fall asleep. Her leg throbbed from pain, and she could not get comfortable. She hated to sleep on her back, but rolling onto her side was out of the question. For a brief moment, she felt like bellowing for Pearson to bring her more alcohol. Truthfully, she needed more laudanum, but Bramwell kept the drug under his watchful eye. In his haste to leave, he had forgotten to give her an evening dose. His constant changing moods were baffling.
Exasperated, she pulled herself up to a sitting position. After leaning over and lighting the lamp by her bedside, she retrieved the book that she had set on the night table. Upon opening it, she grasped the letter that she had placed there earlier. With trepidation, she pulled it from the envelope and opened the folded paper.
My Dearest Rebecca,
Only a few more days and we shall be together. India and its adventures await us.
Always,
Reginald
Caroline squinted at the contents and read it again. Who in the world was Reginald? Her mouth gaped open in complete shock. Could it be possible that Rebecca had planned to leave Bramwell for another man? Did he discover her infidelity and then murder her in a crime of passion? Perhaps her disappearance was not an accident after all. And what of Reginald, what had happened to him?
“Oh, dear God,” she mumbled. Her hands shook as she folded the letter and shoved it back inside the envelope. The rampant thoughts buzzing about her head had increased her heart rate to a loud drum in her ears.
If the thought of murder hadn’t frightened her enough, a creaking sound came from across the room. Slowly, the bookcase began to move. Caroline clutched the covers and froze. Out of the darkness, Bramwell appeared. She flinched and frantically shoved the envelope underneath her body.
“Good Lord, you scared the daylights out of me,” her voice screeched.
“Are you all right? I saw the light underneath and heard noises.”
“You could have told me there was a secret door in this room rather than frightening me unannounced.” Caroline scowled at him and continued to clutch her blanket.
“Perhaps,” he said. His face showed no remorse. “You didn’t answer my question. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she snapped. “Except my leg hurts, and I couldn’t sleep.”
Bramwell approached her bed. His unruly hair flowed about his face. He wore an unbuttoned, white linen shirt that exposed his muscular chest. Wrinkled trousers covered his legs down to his bare feet. By his rumpled appearance, he had hurriedly put on his clothes before entering. Of course, Caroline’s thoughts caused her to wonder if he had ever entered this room naked to visit Rebecca. She shuddered at the thought.
He took a few steps in her direction, looked about the room curiously, and then asked. “Do you want some laudanum? It was insensitive of me not to ask before leaving you for the night.”
Caroline hesitated. He appeared concerned, but after reading the contents of the letter underneath her pillow, a cloud of distrust hung above his head.
“Perhaps a little,” she said, “so that I might sleep.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right back with the dosage.”
Bramwell exited the room while Caroline, fraught with worry, tilted her head. She tried to see beyond the partially open bookcase but could not. Maybe she should not have asked for the drug. What if he gave her too much? Perhaps he wanted to kill her to silence her opinionated rants.
By the time he had returned to her bed, she feared to open her mouth. He sat next to her and offered the painkiller.
“Why are you hesitating?” He frowned at her staring at the spoon.
“It’s not too much, is it?”
His brow rose. “Are you afraid I will drug you and do some dastardly thing while you are asleep?”
“Well, no. The thought had never crossed my mind until you just revealed to me that our rooms are connected by a hidden door.”
“Take the medicine,” he ordered in a stern voice.
Afraid he would force her, Caroline opened her mouth. The dosage looked the same as before, so she trustingly swallowed the terrible-tasting liquid.
Afterward, she looked at him while he sat quietly watching her with his dark brown eyes. She glanced at his naked chest, which she found to be most unnerving. Bramwell’s physique was more taut and muscular than she had imagined.
She pulled her eyes away and nodded at the bookcase. “Is that how you came to Rebecca during the night, through that door?”
Bramwell licked the residue off the spoon and flashed a sly smile. “A little opium never hurt anyone,” he declared. “You should get drowsy soon.”
“You did not answer my question,” Caroline said. She reached over and touched his arm. Her brashness surprised her, and Bramwell lowered his eyes, stunned at her actions too.
“Yes, that is how I came into her room. The evenings I placed a white rose on her plate, it was my invitation for her to visit my bedchamber. When she received a red rose that meant I would visit Rebecca instead. However, the choice was hers either way, and I did not pressure her for more.” Bramwell paused. “You should know that there are some immoral men, Caroline, who will not take no for an answer.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Did he just insinuate he might have his way with her regardless? She feared him and concluded that
he was a man with no scruples who could also be a murderer.
Worried, Caroline’s hand slipped off his arm. “I am feeling drowsy.” She lied, hoping that he would retreat into his bedchamber and leave her alone. Instead he merely sat there. Then without warning, he reached over and touched her cheek. His fingertips slowly brushed across her face.
“Your skin is as soft as the petal of a rose,” he whispered. His palm cupped her chin. “It has been so long since I have felt the soothing flesh of a young woman.”
His actions took Caroline off guard. Instead of being appalled over his shameless touch, she felt her body tingle. It must be the opium. Too large of a dose can cause delusions.
Without realizing it, her tongue moistened her lips, as she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He smirked as if he knew what she wanted. Slowly, like a conqueror examining his conquest, his fingertips brushed down her neckline.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
As she watched him, her vision blurred and heaviness closed her eyelids. Caroline felt his warm lips encircle hers with a sweet kiss. She slumped, weak from the drug, and his arm wrapped around her waist for support. A moment later, he pulled her forward, shoving her breasts flush against his bare chest. The heat of her skin met his, and Caroline felt as if she melted like hot wax onto his body. A few seconds later, she succumbed to sleep.
* * * *
Caroline fell limp in his arms, and Bramwell pulled away from her lips. Immediately he felt remorse for his actions precipitated by a moment of heated desire. She was vulnerable and in pain, and he had taken advantage of the situation. Nevertheless, he could not deny that feeling her bosom pressed against his bare chest engorged his craving for sexual intimacy. Before she had succumbed to the drug, thanks to his more than ample dose, she had responded with moaning pleasure. With a little more time, he could have seduced her and enjoyed every inch of her smooth skin.
As he laid her softly upon the pillow, she whimpered. Understandably, as she needed reprieve from pain so that she could rest. Just as her frame touched the mattress, his hand around her waist felt something beneath. He grasped it with his fingers. When he saw an envelope, his eyes grew dark with rage.
Thorncroft Manor (A Novella) Page 8