The Vengeful Bridegroom

by Kit Donner

  The wind whipped Gabriel through the door, and it banged against the wall. He stopped and stared. “Madelene! What—Matthew! I thought he might come here.”

  She lifted her tear-streaked face to his strained visage. “What happened? How did you know?”

  He ignored her question. “Let me help Matthew. I’ll put him on the kitchen table.” He collected the wounded man off the floor and carefully placed him on the table in the center of the room. Madelene stayed by Gabriel’s side, continuing to administer comfort. All she had.

  With shadowed eyes, she looked at her husband. “What more can I do? We do? Is there anything?”

  Gabriel sighed heavily and rubbed his chin, watching Matthew’s pale face and flickering eyelids. “Have you sent for a surgeon?” he asked her in hushed tones.

  She nodded, then realized he didn’t notice her gesture. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, Millie went to fetch Dr. Riley nearby. She should return any time with him.”

  Grabbing Madelene’s shoulders, he asked roughly, “I heard blue vitriol in water might help stop the bleeding. Would you know if there is any in the house?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so.” Madelene tried desperately to think of any type of medicinal cures they might have.

  “Something to relieve his pain. Any laudanum, perhaps?”

  “I believe we have anodyne draught, which might help.”

  “That will do,” he told her, turning back to Matthew, whose motions seemed slower, almost as if he was falling asleep.

  While Madelene was handing Gabriel the draught, she heard the front doorbell ring. Moments later, Millie and the surgeon bustled into the kitchen, followed by Rascal.

  Madelene felt drained, exhausted, yet calm. A surgeon at the bedside of a patient must bring some relief to the worried relatives of the patients. If anything could be done for Matthew, Dr. Riley could make it so. Riley was renowned for his studies on bleeding and leeches. Not that bleeding was needed in Matthew’s condition.

  The surgeon asked everyone to wait elsewhere because he needed room and quiet. He glanced at the occupants and requested Gabriel to assist him. Madelene begged to be allowed to stay in the room, in a chair in the corner, so she would not disturb their work. She couldn’t leave her brother now.

  Matthew’s moans filled the room, aching Madelene’s hearing and heart. She wanted to block out the sounds, but there was no relief. Alcohol and a metallic smell wafted over to her corner, underlining all her fears. Madelene looked to the servants’ entrance where she could escape. But she remained fixed in her chair.

  After an hour of working with Gabriel and trying tinctures, hot balsams, and agaric of the oak to stop the bleeding, the surgeon’s shoulders slumped. He backed away from the table.

  Looking at Gabriel, he shook his head. “There is nothing more to be done.” Then he turned to Madelene and looked at her with eyes full of sadness. All was hopeless.

  Her arms wrapped around her chest, she rose unsteadily to her feet and walked the few steps to her brother’s side. He had not yet left her. She put her arm around his head and leaned down to whisper. “Matthew.” His breathing was shallow and slow. His eyes flickered open. “Matthew, George is your son.” Her brother stared at her, and she saw a small smile fall over his face. A few minutes later, he was gone.

  At first, she couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. Her husband and the surgeon left her alone in the kitchen with her brother. Time didn’t matter, and if asked what consumed her thoughts, she would have been hard-pressed to say. Taking leave of a loved one is not for the faint of heart. No matter the choices he had made, she had forgiven him everything, knowing she would never understand his reasoning.

  She actually smiled thinking of her brother and father together again, where they belonged. When she finally remembered to cry, Gabriel returned to the kitchen and silently took her in his arms and held her, holding back the demons threatening to devour her.

  Chapter Thirty

  The coroner and mortician were called as Madelene and Gabriel waited in the back parlor. When George awakened, she took him from Mrs. Lavishtock’s care and fed him, absorbed in his cherubic, innocent face.

  After the mortician prepared the body for burial with Mrs. Lavishtock and Madelene watching, they moved Matthew’s body to the front drawing room, where Madelene’s father had lain upon his death.

  A few hours before dawn, it was decided Gabriel and Mrs. Lavishtock would return to the town house in Park Lane with the baby. Madelene insisted on remaining alone by her brother’s side throughout the rest of the night and morning. Rascal agreed to keep her company, and Gabriel promised to send Windthorp to the town house.

  Gabriel didn’t want to leave her, but she convinced him she needed to be with her brother, alone, this last time. He understood and departed, albeit reluctantly.

  An hour stroked by as she sat near her brother’s body in his burial clothes. Her companion, Rascal, would walk into the room to check on her and the fire to keep it burning, although the early morning hours were not very cold. After he checked on Madelene, he would return to his place in the back parlor and try not to fall asleep.

  While Millie retired for the night, Windthorp sat in the kitchen, wanting something to occupy his time, but all he could do was count the hours till he could return to Mr. Westcott’s side. Madelene, though thankful for the close company, continued to reflect upon the day that began with her brother alive and ended with him dead.

  She was still mystified by the events of the night, for Gabriel had not had time to apprise her of what he knew or saw what happened to Matthew. Somehow she knew Count Taglioni and Alec played a part in this tragedy, and she determined to make it known to the constabulary.

  Her own eyelids becoming heavy, she had begun to nod in her chair when she heard a raspy foreign voice behind her. “The beautiful Madelene.”

  Madelene jerked awake and felt cold, smooth steel against her throat.

  “I wouldn’t move if I were you, but simply listen to what I have to say. Perhaps you will prove more amenable in assisting me than your brother could.”

  She didn’t turn around. The count. “What do you want? Are you not satisfied with the death of my brother that you seek mine as well?” She didn’t know where she found the courage to answer him.

  Taglioni chuckled behind her and removed the knife to walk in front of her. The silver blade blinked in the candlelight.

  “My dear Mrs. Westcott. Your brother disappointed me for a number of reasons. Earlier this evening, he ran into my knife.” He continued, ignoring her gasp of pain and his admission of murder.

  His eyes gazed coolly on her, reflecting the ice in his soul. “I only wanted the diamonds and you. And Matthew Colgate could deliver neither to me. He, in fact, refused me again tonight, when I mentioned your name. Since he no longer had the diamonds, he ceased to have a purpose.”

  Madelene stared at this hollow shell of a man, refusing to believe he could utter any more venom that would sting any crueler. She gritted her teeth, her jaw throbbing. “I regret the day my brother and you ever crossed paths. He has paid the price, and you soon will also.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Mrs. Westcott, a threat from a lady?” He looked at her with disdain. “This affair has wasted much of my time and my patience.” Walking closer to Madelene, Taglioni sheathed his knife with effortless aplomb. He clearly thought he had no need for a weapon in handling her.

  Madelene glanced toward the hallway that led to the back parlor and kitchen.

  “I suggest you not consider the valet or young boy as your champion. They both sleep peacefully at the moment, I let them live.” He walked over to the window and pushed the drapes aside, looking out into the street.

  She rubbed her forehead, trying to gain time and think how to thwart the devil in gentleman’s clothing. It looked as if she would have to save herself.

  “Pray tell me, if you have the diamonds you so ardently pursued,
why are you here?” She surreptiously studied the room, awaiting his response. There had to be some type of weapon to be found.

  He wandered back over to her side and chuckled. The sound made her want to retch, as he unexpectedly reached over and touched her cheek before she could turn away. “If I were you, I wouldn’t play the game the way your brother did. He lost.”

  Madelene sat still in the wing chair, almost as if she were tied down, though she wanted to leap from the chair and strangle the smirk from his face. If she wanted to gain advantage, she needed to tamp down her firelit anger.

  “How tiresome you English are. When I confronted your brother outside the tavern, he handed me a bag with nothing but fake stones. I have held the real ones in my hand. Surely I could tell the difference, even in the miserly light in the alley.”

  He sat down at the edge of the settee, skirting the table and Matthew’s body. Indeed, he barely gave it a notice.

  “I found the note from you to your brother. You have the real diamonds.” He paused deliberately. “I want this affair done. Now, I want you to tell me where the jewels are.”

  Madelene slowly eased out of her chair, trying to look as if she needed to stretch her legs. “Mr. Westcott plans to turn the diamonds over to the magistrate. I don’t have them.”

  The truth finally made the count less careful. He leapt from his perch and started toward her. “Let us hope your husband still has them. It would make everything so much simpler.”

  Madelene retreated from Taglioni and backed toward the fireplace. “What would you have me do?”

  His threatening presence nearly made her lose her composure.

  “I need to return to Italy, and you’ll be going with me. Since your husband will want you back, he’ll need to deliver the diamonds, the real ones, to me at the docks before we sail.”

  Her eyes wide, she wet her lips. Think. Think of a distraction. She told him in a quavering voice, “Mr. Westcott will not exchange the diamonds for me. He has been preparing to divorce me.”

  His eyes gleamed black. “That’s not what Alessandra has told me.”

  One step, then another. He was almost near to reach out and touch.

  Someone coughed from the back of the house.

  Taglioni turned around, prepared for defense, but not for an offense. In the breath of a moment, she grabbed the heavy gold fire tongs and swung it toward his head.

  The resounding thud rattled the house when he fell to the floor. Unconcerned whether he lived or not, Madelene rushed past his outstretched body and to the kitchen, where Windthorp sat rubbing his head.

  “Mrs. Westcott? What happened?”

  When she heard another noise behind her, it gave her a fright, but it was only Rascal walking stiffly into the room, rubbing his eyes, as if he had only awakened.

  “Windthorp, Rascal, I’ve killed Count Taglioni! He must have hit you on the head,” she told them, pointing to the valet. “And you were probably fast asleep.” She looked at Rascal.

  The young man and the older man looked at each other before leaving the room to run to the front parlor. She heard them calling to her. Count Taglioni still lived; her blow had knocked him unconscious but not delivered death.

  Her heart still beating fast, she could finally breathe, having forgotten how when she heard the count’s voice behind her. She went to wake Millie and send her on another errand, this time for the constable.

  The next day sobbed great raindrops, graying the day, like Madelene’s heart. She had returned to Mr. Westcott’s home after ensuring her brother’s body was looked after and now sat in the front parlor, wanting to rest and find peace. Stretches of time seemed to pass before the window as she stared without seeing.

  The door opened and when no one entered, Madelene turned to discover Falstaff at her feet. She gathered him on her lap and watched as he sniffed her pockets for the usual biscuit but came away empty-handed. Disappointed, he jumped off her lap and went to hide under a nearby table. “You little traitor. I thought you came to provide me comfort, and all you can think of is your next meal.” Her words were said with such softness, Falstaff could only assume he had pleased her and banged his tail on the floor. She shook her head and smiled briefly, forgetting.

  Madelene wanted to know what happened the previous night. With all the commotion, she had not had an opportunity to ask Gabriel. Although she knew the knowledge couldn’t change the future without Matthew, she needed to know.

  Another knock on the door and this time, Gabriel himself did enter the room, dressed in a dark coat and pantaloons. He walked across the room, sat down in a chair next to hers, and reached for her hand.

  She focused her eyes on her husband’s beloved face, memorizing the details to plant in her heart.

  Gabriel pointed to Falstaff. “I presume he is not providing you much in the way of companionship.”

  “True. He wanted nothing more to do with me when he found no biscuit in my pocket.”

  They sat together in quiet harmony for a time.

  “Madelene—” He turned to her, but she held up her hand.

  “Gabriel, I, I want you to tell me about the tavern and the count.”

  Her husband looked at her and shook his head. “Not now. Another time.”

  Madelene pressed her hand to his, her words tumbling after the other, surprising herself she could even voice them. “Please, I feel this need to understand what my brother’s last minutes were. Why this had to happen.”

  Folding his hands together, he bent his head, perhaps trying to remember or trying to forget. A minute passed, then another. With a long sigh, he turned to Madelene and clutched her hands tightly. “I went to the Sleeping Mermaid tavern to meet your brother after the ball last night. I was to bring the diamonds, and I planned for your brother to advise where I could find George. I could only hope your brother would honor this agreement.”

  He hesitated, then continued, “After a few brief minutes with your brother, I gave him the bag of diamonds, but before I could learn anything further, Rascal rushed into the tavern looking for me. He blurted out he found George by following Mrs. Lavishtock. We ran out and found a hack to take us to this fellow Duckins’s home, but when we arrived, Mrs. Lavishtock and George had already departed.

  “We returned to the town house, but you were missing and Mrs. Lavishtock and George were yet to be seen. Fanny informed me of your destination, which is how Rascal and I ended up in Bloomsbury and found you and Matthew.

  “After I left your brother, Taglioni must have found him.” He stopped and looked into her eyes. “I couldn’t give your brother the real gems and have the count possess them again. I had planned between your brother and me, that we might oppose the count together.

  “I had a Bow Street Runner waiting outside to take Taglioni into custody and warned him to watch for the count before I left to find George.” Gabriel paused. “I keep reliving last night and wondering what I could have done differently—”

  Madelene stared at him, shocked at his words. If only Gabriel had given the real diamonds to Matthew, he might be alive. Was Gabriel indirectly responsible for my brother’s death?

  In ignorance, Gabriel halted her accusing thoughts. “Madelene, when your brother became involved with the count, there was only a small possibility Taglioni would have let him live. The count couldn’t have trusted your brother wouldn’t alert the magistrate, and he would not have had to pay your brother for delivering the gems to him.”

  Her lower lip trembled. She swallowed hard. All he said was true. Could she ever forgive herself for not helping Matthew this one last time?

  Madelene finally nodded. “You could have done nothing more.” She placed his hand to her cheek.

  She gave him a measure of comfort he had not known he needed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  On June 28, 1812, they laid Sir Matthew Colgate to rest next to their father, the last baronet, in St. George’s Cemetery. Engraved on his tomb were the words, “Matthew Nathaniel Col
gate, 1784–1812, Beloved Son, Brother, and Father.”

  From the upstairs window, Madelene had watched the carriage taking her brother to the cemetery, followed by Gabriel and other family friends in another coach. A beautiful sunny, almost perfect day. So many tears shed over the last few days, Madelene knew this ache in her heart would lessen, but never truly go away. All those times, she and her father had whisked him out of trouble. I guess I couldn’t keep saving him indefinitely.

  She remembered earlier at the church service as Gabriel took her hand in his when the rector finished the blessing and delivered the twenty-third psalm, which they all recited. Madelene looked over the small crowd and noted, of course, Mrs. Lavishtock, a funeral weeper by the look of things; Arnold Duckins, who stood nearby his aunt; and Mr. Brelford.

  Matthew’s friend, Mr. Brelford, appeared to be taking her brother’s death particularly hard. His face was white and drawn. Even from across the church, she saw his hands shaking and clutching a white handkerchief. Perhaps this Mr. Brelford truly loved Matthew as the dearest of friends, which brought a smile to her lips. She wanted someone to love Matthew besides herself, and George, well, someday, she would tell him about his father and his mother, with Gabriel’s help.

  They planned to leave London the next day and journey to Westcott Close, a place she now thought of as home. After the last fortnight, Madelene wanted to mourn for her brother in private and take solace from those who surrounded her, particularly Gabriel and George. Those two men whose very being made her heart beat fast, for very different reasons. How she loved them both, and surely they knew.

  August. Fall would come too soon. Madelene looked out her first-floor window at the trove of trees near the lake that would slowly lose their leaves, no longer to provide hiding places for lovers until next year.