Cassie and Gemini wanted to stroll by the shops lining the way, so we decided to send the footmen ahead with the carriage and the gentlemen’s horses, except for Iris. Alexander apparently didn’t want anyone but himself to touch her. He protectively led his new mare over the cobblestones, speaking to her gently as he strode past the streetside vendors. Here the salty breeze of the sea mingled with the pleasant and unpleasant scents of fish, fresh meat pies, sweaty bodies and perfumed candles. The sound of our booted steps on the boardwalk grew louder as those we passed lowered their voices to whispers. Cassie, Gemini and I drew as many curious looks from the owners and patrons of the shops we peered into as Alexander and Iris were getting from those on the street. The town, ever in awe of the cursed Killdaren twins, didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that the mysterious Sean Killdaren had abruptly wed—a parlor maid no less. Many had yet to grasp the fact that Cassie, a journalist in her own right, had only taken a position as a parlor maid to investigate Mary’s death. And I had no doubt that seeing her now in the company of Sean’s estranged brother would give wing to even more rampant rumors. None of them particularly kind.
“Look at this new store, Andrie! It’s full of antiquities.” Gemini rushed ahead, letting out a squeal of delight. With my eyes focused on her, I bumped into a rumpled and soiled man who was exiting the cigar shop. Tobacco from the unlit pipe he held spilled on my shoulder.
“Are you blind?” he asked, brushing at the flakes on my dress as if I had offended him and he had a right to touch me! The minute his hand connected with my shoulder, I saw her dying, a dark-haired woman, and this man had had his hands around her throat. They were in a small boat, and she was struggling, her doe eyes begging for life.
“You killed her! Strangled her,” I cried.
The man stared at me in horror for a second, then whispered in a choked voice, “Who are you? How did you know?” Crying out as if struck, he turned from me and ran.
“Wait!” I shouted, stumbling after him. He dashed ahead of me and onto the street just as a carriage came rushing by. The driver swerved, but it was too late. The man went down beneath trampling hooves and spinning wheels. He lay in the dirt, unmoving.
“Good God!” Alexander, who stood nearby me on the street, grabbed my arm, but I couldn’t “see” anything. My whole spirit was shuddering from what had happened.
“Andrie!” The roar in my ears made Cassie’s cry seem as if it had come from a long way off though I knew she’d left the boardwalk and stood right next to me. I heard everything, saw everything, but it was as if I were frozen. “Andrie, talk to me. What happened?”
I saw Gemini approach with the other men behind her. “Whatever is the matt—” She glanced to where the people on the street were shouting. “Dear Lord!” Then she reached out for Cassie and promptly fainted.
Cassie caught Gemini with Lord Ashton’s help. I couldn’t speak past the lump of horror lodged in my throat. It seemed as if I couldn’t even blink. My eyes burned. The man, who now lay twisted and bleeding on the cobblestones, had been so filled with anger that he’d strangled his wife to death. I’d seen it all and felt it all in a single touch, in a single image.
“She spoke to the man after he bumped into her, and he ran into the street,” Alexander said to Cassie. “Did she know him?”
“Bloody hell of an accident,” Sir Warwick muttered, stirred from his habitual ennui. “The chap didn’t even have a chance to dodge. I saw it too.”
“There are ladies present, Warwick,” the Earl of Dartraven admonished. “Has someone sent for the doctor?”
“I’m afraid there is nothing a doctor can do. Looks as if the man has broken his neck,” Lord Ashton said, his expression one of offense that anyone would intrude so upon his day. “I see Constable Poole headed this way.”
“Drayson, take care of Iris for me.” Alexander handed the mare’s reins to his friend, then grabbed my hand, squeezing my fingers with concern. “Miss Andrews, did you know the man? I heard you cry out something like Lou Tiller or Miller or something. Can you tell us?” He spoke as soothingly as he had to Iris when she’d panicked on the ship. His hand slid to my back, urging me a little closer to him. The comfort and the heat broke the icy fear that had been freezing me.
“Oh, God,” I whispered, feeling dizzier by the minute. I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, and I didn’t want to speak to the authorities either.
If the man was dead, then justice had been served, and I wouldn’t have to reveal what I knew and how I learned of it. I prayed Lord Ashton wasn’t mistaken and that the man really was dead. It was the first time in my life that I’d prayed such a horrible thing.
A shadow fell over me. Glancing up, I found Constable Poole peering down at me from dark, puzzled brows. “Miss Andrews, what happened? A woman just told me that you chased a man to his death.”
I gasped. “No, no, I didn’t.”
“Who said such a thing?” Cassie demanded, having left Gemini in Lord Ashton’s care.
Alexander tightened his hold on my hand and spoke. “Constable Poole, surely you are not accusing Miss Andrews of anything so horrendous? I can assure you that was not the case.” Alexander’s voice was as sharp as a steel blade. “I distinctly heard Miss Andrews shout at the man to wait as if she were trying to keep him from running.”
“My apologies, Viscount Blackmoor. The woman who told me was quite upset, and most likely confused the details.”
“Understandable. My daughter-in-law and her sisters are shaken by the incident themselves,” the Earl of Dartraven quickly interjected.
“Your lordship.” The constable nodded politely to the earl, then turned to Cassie, giving her a respectful bow. “Mrs. Killdaren.”
“Constable Poole,” Cassie said stiffly. I knew my sister was still bristling over the fact that the constable had barely given her the time of day when we’d first arrived in Dartmoor’s End at the beginning of the summer.
“Miss Andrews, since you spoke with the man, I assume you were acquainted with him?” The constable furrowed his brow, peering sharply at me.
“No!” I spoke more vehemently than I meant to, and everyone looked at me strangely. Drawing a deep breath, I cleared my throat and tried to steady my nerves. “I don’t know the man at all. He exited the shop, ran into me, and spilt tobacco on my dress. Then he had the audacity to accuse me of being blind. My shout for him to wait was one of outrage. I didn’t see the carriage coming at him, either.”
I thought perhaps I knew just how Pheidippides felt after running from Marathon to Athens. My heart raced painfully and I couldn’t breathe. Surely I would expire at any moment. Telling lies has a way of scaring the soul. My only consolation was I had essentially told the truth to the authorities.
“You’re absolutely sure you don’t know anything about him, Miss Andrews?”
I stared at the constable a moment, watching his nose twitch and his mustache ends flap in the wind. Hysterically, I wanted to laugh and had to grit my teeth. “Constable, I’ve never in my life seen this man before.”
The Constable frowned. “Miss Andrews, then why—”
“I think Miss Andrews has told you everything she knows for now.” Alexander stepped forward, coming between me and the constable. His gaze searched mine with a doubting question lingering in his eyes. He knew something more than what I had described had happened, but he didn’t press for an answer. He faced the constable. “The earl and I would both like to be informed of the man’s identity so that we can send our condolences to his family. You will notify us of the results of your investigation, of course?”
“I’ll send word as soon as I know.” Constable Poole excused himself from the group in general, then turned to the street and the crowd gathered there. I kept my gaze from following him. My stomach still roiled from having witnessed the man’s death, and I shivered. I couldn’t help but feel my encounter with him was more than a random incident. It was an omen of darkness that seemed to threat
en all I held dear.
The ride to Killdaren’s Castle passed in a strained silence, with gazes full of questions that tongues were too hesitant to speak. Gemini sat between me and Cassie, facing the earl and Sir Warwick while Lord Ashton and Mr. Drayson rode their horses. Alexander was astride too. He rode one horse with Iris trailing behind. Everyone felt as if they needed to accompany me home, a totally unnecessary gesture that I didn’t understand. It left me as conspicuous as a queen during her coronation.
Gemini, still pale, had yet to recover from the shock of seeing a violent death. Though eighteen, she’d lived behind the combined fortress of mine and Cassie’s protection, and thus had been largely sheltered. She currently had her head resting back against the squabs, ruining her elaborate coiffure of gold curls. Her china-blue eyes were shut and her arms were tightly crossed, as if she needed every ounce of warmth that she could keep. She hadn’t once glanced out the window of the carriage to watch Lord Ashton, nor had she mentioned his name in the last twenty minutes—a record for the entire summer.
Cassie, grim-faced and straight-shouldered, sat with her hands tightly clasped, clearly counting off the minutes to reach home with her tapping finger. I knew that she, like Alexander, suspected I hadn’t told everything, and it was only a matter of time before they demanded the truth from me.
Neither of us had commented on the fact that if Alexander accompanied the carriage all the way to Killdaren’s Castle, he would see Sean. We’d wanted to bridge the gap between the two brothers, but hadn’t imagined it would be under the shadow of another death. I shivered again.
An occasional glance from the earl my way showed a mixture of concern in his misty green eyes and something I could only describe as irritation. I mirrored that feeling, for Sir Warwick incessantly tapped his walking stick on the carriage floor. I itched to snatch it away from him and…well, toss it and his monocle into the vibrant blue sea just visible between the drifting dunes of sand and sea oats outside the carriage window. That I even entertained such an uncharitable act for so minor an irritation took me totally aback and made me wonder if my gift was making it impossible for me to tolerate any intrusion into my world.
The road stretching from the town to Killdaren’s Castle stood between the sea and the summer-lush maritime forest, a place I’d recently discovered held dark secrets from the past, both recent and distant. For among the trees lay the Circle of Stone Virgins, Druid-carved images of seven virgins surrounding a huge statue of Daghdha, the High King of the Tuatha de Danaan. Local legend was that Daghdha took the beautiful virgins captive, ravaged their virginity, then claimed their lives. It was in the burial chamber beneath this Celtic faery god that my cousin Mary’s body had been found. She’d died in a senseless fall while arguing with the housekeeper of Killdaren’s castle, Mrs. Frye. Fearing reprisal, Mrs. Frye and her mentally feeble son, Jamie, had hid Mary’s body and pretended she’d been swept out to sea. While under the guise of a parlor maid, Cassie had uncovered their lie, allowing our family to find some measure of peace in our loss of Mary. None of us believed the story that Mary had been swept out to sea as she waded in the surf.
Mary had disappeared from the castle while working for Sean Killdaren, and at first my family and I had thought him responsible because of the rumors over his involvement in the death of another woman. Lady Helen Kennedy had been murdered on the night of October thirty-first, eight years ago. Sean and Alexander had been the last to see her alive, and an eyewitness, Mr. Drayson—Sean and Alexander’s close friend—had seen a man matching the twins’ description leave the maze just before her body had been discovered there.
Over the course of the summer my sisters and I had wholeheartedly come to the conclusion that Sean and Alexander were innocent. And, as Cassie pointed out when she discovered the tunnel in the center of the maze that led to the sea and to the burial chamber beneath the stone virgins, anyone could have killed Lady Helen Kennedy. They could have exited through the tunnels, and no one would have ever known they’d been on the Killdaren estate that night.
“Hold just a minute, Dickens,” I heard Alexander shout to the driver of the carriage. From the open window, I watched him expertly dismount. We were but a stone’s throw from Sean Killdaren’s land. Already, Killdaren Castle’s sun-washed walls and towering turrets loomed large against the pristine dunes and deep blue sea. Thanks to Cassie, what used to be a silent-as-a-tomb, gloomy place was now a home of warmth and cheer.
Alexander opened the carriage door, directing his gaze toward his father. “I’ll leave off here. Should the constable send any news, have the messenger ride on to Dragon’s Cove and inform me as well.”
“Of course,” the earl replied. “You and Sean have to—”
“Do nothing. He made his wishes crystal clear just a short time ago. I’m content he has recovered enough to find some measure of happiness in life. The very least that I owe him is to respect his wishes.” Alexander glanced my way. “Please send word to me tomorrow on your recovery as well, Miss Andrews. I realize what happened today was a shock even if you weren’t acquainted with the man.” He narrowed his eyes slightly as he spoke the last, sharpening his gaze to a razor’s edge strong enough to cut the truth from even the most callous soul.
Unable to trust my voice, I only nodded.
“Please. Why don’t you come to the castle for a few moments?” said Cassie. “I’m sure—”
“Mrs. Killdaren, while your good intentions are noted, I’ve known my brother much longer than you. I can assure you he will not easily forgive a betrayal of his wishes. I’d advise you not to jeopardize your happiness with him by trying to repair that which cannot ever be fixed. Good day.” He shut the carriage door before anyone could speak.
By the way Cassie flung her hands up in disgust I knew she was close to screaming with frustration. “I think I would have better reception as an English diplomat to the African natives during the recent Zulu Wars than I’ve had in trying to speak to Sean or Alexander about each other. How two intelligent men can—”
“It’s the curse,” the earl interjected. “Sean and Alex were born that way.”
The carriage started forward, and Sir Warwick leaned back, shaking his head. “The boys came out of the womb with their hands about each other’s throats, Alex feet first and Sean headfirst. They’re fated to die that way as well.”
“That, Sir Warwick, is a philosophy I will never accept,” Cassie said. “People determine their fate by the choices they make.”
“Do they?” I asked softly. “There are some things in life from which one…cannot escape.” As soon as I spoke, I wished that I hadn’t, for both Sir Warwick and the earl gave me a strange look. I couldn’t blame them; even to my own ears my voice had sounded haunted, as if I’d dark secrets to hide. The problem was that I did.
Cassie looked betrayed. “Andrie? Surely you don’t believe Sean and his twin are cursed with no hope of a different future than one cruelly delivered at birth.”
I wanted to reassure her, to tell her that fate was nonsense, and I would have said so just a short while ago. But after the incident in town and the man’s death, I wasn’t sure myself. My fate seemed to loom over me with no escape. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I just don’t know.”
“I agree with Andrie,” Gemini whispered. “Some things you just can’t escape.”
Chapter Three
“Turn yet, Miss Andrie?” asked little Rebecca James, Sean’s beloved but officially unacknowledged half-sister.
“Say, ‘Is it my turn yet?’” I encouraged her. Rebecca was still recovering from the trauma of Mary’s death and being left on the castle’s roof by someone. Neither Cassie nor I thought it was Jamie and refused to blame him. Rebecca’s stuttering had eased, but she still shortened her sentences, perhaps thinking the fewer words she spoke the less she could say wrong. The odd thing was that she could sing beautifully without stuttering.
“Is it…my turn?”
“Almost, poppet. I’m hu
rrying.” I gazed down at the special embroidered checkerboard, once again marveling at Rebecca’s mother’s ingenious ways of broadening the world of her blind child. The squares on the game board had a distinctive pattern for red and another pattern for black, so Rebecca could move her game piece to the appropriate square by feeling the stitches. “There,” I told her. “It’s your turn now.”
She smiled brightly and began to gently run her fingers over the game board and its pieces in an effort to discover the move I had made. It took her but a moment. At only seven years of age, Rebecca was the most intelligent child I’d ever encountered, which, coming from a woman who’d grown up in Oxford and known the company of a number of children from highly respected scholars, was saying something.
She and her mother, Prudence, lived with Cassie and Sean. It was a strange and scandalous situation for the son to take care of his father’s indiscretions within his own home, but that was the nature of Sean Killdaren. He’d also seen to the formal education of his half-brother, Stuart Frye. Sean’s care for others went far and deep, and his regard for society’s dictates was akin to Alexander’s—nonexistent.
I hadn’t quite determined what to think about the gray-templed, melancholy earl, and I glanced his way a moment. Just past the settee where Cassie, Gemini and Prudence whispered like court conspirators, the earl sat playing backgammon with Sir Warwick while Sean hovered to devour the winner. Every now and then, I’d see him glance—almost beneath his lashes—at Prudence and Rebecca.
When Cassie and Sean had first married, there had been no family gatherings or celebrations or even shared meals. Sean had kept to his wing, sleeping during the day and exploring the stars at night. Prudence and Rebecca had taken their meals in their rooms, and the earl, accompanied more often than not by Sir Warwick, usually ate his meals with a great deal of whiskey in the gentlemen’s den. Two days after marrying Sean, Cassie had put her foot down. She’d set a time for dinner, ordered everyone to be there, and then insisted that for the two hours following the meal the family would gather in the drawing room.
Darkest Dreams Page 3