Darkest Dreams

by Jennifer St Giles

  The jailor led us to a darker cell, one with heavy locks on the door. It was a very dank and cold place with an unbelievably horrendous stench to it. He didn’t open the door, but just beat on the wood with a stick and flapped open a tiny slit. “Ye’ve visitors, Frye.”

  There was no response from inside the cell.

  I blinked at Cassie in the dimness and saw tears brimming from her eyes. “Jamie,” she called.

  A shuffle and a moan sounded from inside the cell.

  “Jamie?”

  “M-m-mary?” came a hoarse whisper. “M-m-mary hurt you.”

  “I know, Jamie. But it is going to be all right. Be strong for me, please. Can you do that? I need your help. Can you be strong for me so that you can help me?”

  “M-m-mary. H-h-help M-mary,” Jamie whispered.

  “I’ll help, too,” Cassie cried, covering her mouth with her hand and rushing back down the corridor. I followed, feeling just as sickened.

  “I didn’t know. I didn’t know they were treating him like this. Dear God.” Cassie marched directly to Constable Poole’s office, located in another building. She didn’t even knock but sailed through the door on a righteous wind.

  Constable Poole barreled up from his chair. “Mrs. Killdaren!”

  “What you’re doing is cruel and inhumane, and you must change it immediately or you will no longer be a constable! I’ll use every last pound of the Killdarens’ wealth to see that you’re the one buried alive in a stone cell if you don’t move Jamie to an acceptable cell, now!”

  I slid into the constable’s office in the wake of my sister’s thunder and noticed that Stuart stood near the window. He was staring at Cassie as one might at a terrible storm whirling in front of one’s eyes.

  “Mrs. Killdaren, calm yourself. The man kidnapped you and by your own account grabbed a knife to murder you. He may have also murdered Mary. I’m still trying to get Mrs. Frye to admit she’s lying to protect her son. Jamie deserves worse. You aren’t being rational.”

  “Even if Jamie were guilty, he’s not an animal to grovel in the dirt. He’s a man with limitations and can in no way understand what is happening. I don’t care what it looks like Jamie did. The connection between Lady Helen’s and Mary’s deaths provides enough doubt that everyone needs to seriously question his guilt. I don’t think he did it. Why did you not mention the carved symbol to me and my family? Why did you ask Dr. Luden to keep the fact a secret?”

  Constable Poole squared his shoulders and shook his head as if stunned. “Mrs. Killdaren, surely you’re not insinuating anything criminal has taken place!” He bristled, agitated enough to cause his curled mustache to flap as he breathed. “I’ll have to forgive your ignorance on such matters. It is common practice in murder investigations to keep certain facts secret in order to nab the guilty party. Also, even if that weren’t the case, I don’t see how this fact has any pertinence to you other than it traumatizes you and your loved ones more. You and your family have been through enough already. The guilty parties will soon go to trial, and this whole terrible thing will be over.”

  “If that were the case then there wouldn’t be a problem, Constable. Unfortunately it isn’t. Neither Jamie nor Mrs. Frye killed Mary.”

  “And your reasoning for this would be?”

  “Jamie loved Mary.”

  “That’s it?” He laughed hard. “That’s your whole reasoning in his defense? Did we not just discover last week that the man killed in the street had strangled his wife? I’m sure he thought himself in love with her at one time.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not to be rude, Mrs. Killdaren, but I’ve more important things to do with my time than to waste it listening to emotional declarations.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “Constable Poole, you’re forgetting the fact that in many ways Jamie is like a child, an innocent child. Given his size and strength, he could have easily harmed Mary in a moment of anger or hurt by hitting and pushing her, causing her to fall and hit her head. But I don’t think he would ever take a knife and carve her up.”

  “And why is that?” the constable demanded.

  “I just told you why,” Cassie shot back.

  I stepped forward, sensing Cassie was getting much too upset. Sean would have my head if Cassie were to have another episode. “What I think my sister is trying to say, Constable, is that if you have a duck that walks and talks and swims like a duck, and suddenly there is a savage and brutal attack on a swan that was in the water with the duck, do you then blame the duck? Or do you look beneath the surface of the water for a shark?”

  “Exactly,” Cassie said, glaring at the constable.

  “It wouldn’t hold water in a court of law, Miss Andrews, but that was extremely well put,” Stuart said, speaking up for the first time.

  “I suggest you start looking for the shark in Dartmoor’s End, Constable Poole,” Cassie said. “Because I intend to let my belief in Jamie and Mrs. Frye’s innocence be known. This coming from the very woman that Jamie Frye kidnapped won’t help your case any.”

  Constable Poole shook his head sadly. “All of your flowery talk, ladies, doesn’t explain why Jamie brought you, Mrs. Killdaren, to the very same underground chamber beneath the Circle of the Stone Virgins that he took Mary to. You both surprise me. Considering Jamie seemed to frequently mistake you for Mary, you stand the most to lose. Are you willing to stake your life on Jamie’s innocence?”

  At Cassie’s pause, the constable smiled triumphantly, and Stuart cursed.

  Cassie groaned, truly distressed.

  “That’s not fair,” I said. “Cassie shouldn’t be expected to prove Jamie’s innocence by putting her life on the line. But by the same coin, you can’t say for sure that Jamie is guilty, Constable Poole, so I suggest you make sure you’re looking beneath the surface because a shark just may be there, ready to attack.”

  The constable settled his dark eyes on me for a long, very uncomfortable moment during which I could feel his anger. He did not like being told what to do, and by a woman no less. “Then I suggest, Miss Andrews and Mrs. Killdaren, that you get out of the water and stay out of the water and leave this investigation in the hands of the professionals. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He motioned to the door.

  “Sean will be coming to inspect Jamie’s living conditions by the end of the day. Change them or you’re going to have more trouble than you can swim through. Good day, Constable,” Cassie said curtly. “This matter is nowhere near settled.”

  “The courts are more than capable of ruling on this matter, Mrs. Killdaren.”

  “Not if they’re like you,” Cassie said under her breath as she sailed past me and out the door. I followed Cassie, realizing that in many ways I had been looking for a shark since Mary’s funeral. I had no doubt there was one there.

  Chapter Eleven

  Upon reaching Dragon’s Cove, I learned from Brighty that the “captain” was away for the day, a fact that only seemed to tighten the growing knot of tension inside me. I could have worn a potato sack for all of the good an appealing dress would do me if Lord Alexander was set to avoid me.

  “Heavens, Miss Andrews, we weren’t expecting you back,” said Mrs. Lynds as she rushed into the entry hall. “His lordship said your sister was ill, and that you wouldn’t be returning for some time, if at all.”

  “Just a misunderstanding,” I said, keeping my smile bright even though I wondered if a desire to get me to resign had motivated his behavior Friday night. “Cassie is fine, and the doctor doesn’t see any complications to her condition.”

  “Forgive my nosiness, but what is her condition? His lordship didn’t say. I hope it’s not something awful, Master Sean deserves a good bit of happiness.”

  “In about seven months, I will be an aunt and the viscount will be an uncle.”

  “Mercy me! A baby in the family at last! This is wonderful news. Oh, there is so much to do!” She started to wander from the room, then stopped suddenly. “Goodness, I almost forgot. Is there
anything you need today?”

  “Actually, I thought it would be a good idea for me to tour the castle. That way I would know how many rooms I will need to do and what their general contents and décor are.” Now that I’d seen to the entry and dwelled as long as I dared in the glass room with the memory of his kiss, I was ready to explore more of the castle and learn more about Alexander through his home.

  “Mercy, that will be a lot. Shall I show you about or do you wish to take a turn yourself?”

  “You don’t mind if I wander around by myself?” The thought of exploring all of the history at my leisure lifted my spirits.

  “Don’t see what harm it could do. I’ll be in the kitchens if you need anything. His Lordship has been in such a melancholy state since returning home, the cook and I are fixing his favorite meal for tonight—beef pie, lamb cutlets, asparagus and fresh bread.”

  “Oh, is he not feeling well?”

  She sighed. “Not that, lass. He’s right fit in his body.” She didn’t say more, and I didn’t ask.

  “Will you be wanting lunch in the dining room or a tray today?”

  “A tray will be fine, Mrs. Lynds.”

  “Very well, let Brighty know if you need anything moved. I’ll have him go through and light the gas lamps. The rooms need airing anyway.” She went back the way she came, shaking her head and murmuring. “A baby. A baby at last.”

  Without wasting a minute more, I set about exploring Alexander’s castle, bringing my cataloguing notebook so I could make a map and notes. The first floor was an amazing conglomeration of rooms from several parlors and dining rooms, a vast library, a study, a drawing room and a ballroom to a half a dozen more areas whose purpose I couldn’t discern. Only the ballroom wasn’t filled to overflowing with antiquities. On the far end of the castle I discovered a set of heavy iron and wood doors where two suits of armor holding wicked-looking swords stood sentry. A draft of cool, musty air eased through the open door, making the dim gas lamps flicker shadows on the stone walls and descending step. Intrigued, I descended the first landing, thinking that this part of the castle would have to be underground, which would perhaps make this a wine cellar. The Killdarens’ spiced wine had to come from somewhere. Reaching the turn, I did indeed see a number of barrels stacked below, and I moved downward. Beyond the oak barrels were racks of bottles. I slid my fingers over their dusty necks, surprised to find a smile curving my lips and a delicious tingle curl up inside me. Friday night shouldn’t be a warm and exciting memory, should it? I should be outraged about it, shouldn’t I?

  Swinging around, miffed at myself, I froze in midstep. What I thought was a wine cellar opened up to a large room that sent a cold chill down my spine, for I surely was looking at a medieval dungeon or a torture chamber for the Spanish Inquisition. I knew a little of those things from history, and it wasn’t hard to recognize the rack and the spiked chair, nor the chains strategically placed upon the opposite wall and a stone slab in the center of the room. On one wall hung dozens of metal implements that I couldn’t even bear to look at. The horror of them clawed at me.

  I turned and screamed at the huge, hulking shadow of a man against the far wall of the stairs.

  “Lass!” Brighty cried. Then I heard a loud umph, and the butler tumbled into the room, nearly rolling into the wine barrels.

  I rushed over to him. “Heavens, are you all right?”

  “Get behind me, lass. Let me at the scurvy bastard.” He sat up with his fists raised, ready for battle, his good eye blinking. His wig sat askew, and dust from the stone floor peppered his formal suit.

  He made a completely incongruous, but most welcomed knight in dusty armor.

  “Forgive me, but you frightened me,” I said, forcing a smile. “Have you had a scurvy sort in the cellar before?” I asked, curious over how ready Brighty was to fight.

  He grumbled and brushed himself off before rising. “Thought the ghost got you,” he said under his breath.

  My brows rose to high arches. “What ghost?”

  “One of the Killdarens’ cursed twins died here, in his own dungeon mind you. His brother accused him of heresy, and that was the end of him, it was. Except his spirit still walks about where they tortured him. Leastways, I swear it does. Whenever the captain’s away, I hear the ghost, moaning and rattling chains. I’m about the only soul brave enough to come down here, and I don’t ever come down here when the captain’s at sea, I tell ya. Surprised you did yourself.”

  “I saw the lit stairwell and the wine. I wasn’t expecting such gruesome antiquities.” I shuddered, forced to glance at the horrible contraptions again. “I won’t be coming back.”

  “Don’t like coming here much at all, myself. I light up the cellar a good long while before I come down, just to let the ghost know that I’m coming. Mrs. Lynds needs more spiced wine. Captain drained the lot we had in the butler’s pantry this weekend.”

  “Does the viscount do that often?” I asked.

  “Not much anymore. Not like he did when his brother was first hurt. That was a bad spot of it then, to be sure. Captain Jansen had to kidnap Captain Black and keep him at sea to sober him up. The crew didn’t have nary a drop of ale or rum the entire trip either. Thought he was going to run every man through with his sword before he settled down.”

  I could readily imagine that an angry and devastated Alexander made a deadly foe. “Can I help you collect the wine?” I asked, wanting to hurry on out of the cellar. Dungeon, I amended. I might as well call it what it was.

  “No, you’re a sweet lass, but I’ll be fine.”

  I reached over and straightened his wig. “Then I shall thank you for coming so readily to my rescue, sir, and take my exploration to the second floor. I believe the viscount mentioned there were unopened crates in a room there.”

  “Don’t be thankin’ me for doin’ a man’s duty.” He blushed, then cleared his throat. “The crates are in the Queen’s Room, across from the captain’s quarters. I’ll come up and open a few of them for you after I take Mrs. Lynds the wine.”

  “Thank you.” I quickly made my escape. It would seem there were more than dark dragons lurking beneath the castle’s black stone. A ghost of a tortured ancestor? No wonder Sean could believe in the Dragon’s Curse. The thought reminded me of the book in my armoire. I needed to read it to find out what Cassie and I were up against.

  Surprisingly, and much to my excitement, the Queen’s Room was an Egyptian treasure trove. Brighty pried open a number of crates, and I immediately and blissfully set to work, deciding to explore the other three floors of the castle another time.

  Unfortunately, I soon encountered a very big problem. I couldn’t concentrate on the treasures as I should. Brighty’s offhand comment, “across from the captain’s quarters”, kept intruding. Instead of seeing the artifacts in my hands, my highly improper curiosity kept wondering what Alexander’s personal quarters looked like, because as far as I could tell, he didn’t really have his mark in the other rooms I’d explored so far. They all seemed just as he’d indicated, a burden he’d inherited that had to be carried, and one which he avoided at all costs.

  Sean had done the same at Killdaren’s Castle. Except for his private wing, which he’d made his own lair.

  Mrs. Lynds appeared with a lunch tray, and after showing me the water closet at the end of the corridor so I could refresh myself, she left. The room lured me further along in my curiosity of Alexander. Upon a dais before a large paneled window sat an enormous porcelain tub with gold fixtures. To its left was a large fireplace, one that left me no doubt the room could be kept toasty warm even in the middle of winter. With its green watered-silk walls and dark wooden chests filled with plush linens, the room was resplendent. On a shelf next to a mirrored white-and-gold sink sat a number of toiletries. Just as soon as I washed my hands, I inspected the items, tickling my nose with the scents of shaving soap and cologne. His heady scent of spice, sandalwood and something else that was mesmerizing in its lure lingered benea
th my nose long after I’d closed the bottle and set it back on the shelf. On my way back to the Queen’s Room, I decided to peek into his quarters.

  I hesitated before opening the double doors. My pulse raced almost as deliciously as it did when the man himself would focus on my mouth. Then I slipped inside and stood stunned as I registered the details before me, or the lack of them. The first room, nearly half a ballroom in size, was decorated with little else than a red carpet with a black dragon adorning its center. The fireplace against the far wall appeared as if it hadn’t been used in years. Miffed, and a bit perplexed not to see more, I moved into the room and made my way across the plush carpet to open the door of an adjoining room. Here I found a large four-poster bed, minus any bed curtains, and a single wing chair set before a fireplace. A lamp and one table stacked with newspapers and a book accompanied the chair. Next to the bed stood an armoire, the only other furniture besides a large covered desk. No pictures hung on the wall, nor did any other objects sit upon the surfaces of the scant furniture.

  The only thing indicative of Alexander and his wealth was the black satin counterpane and pillows. The loneliness of the room knotted a lump of emotion in my throat, even as the decadent sensuality of the black satin put images in my mind of him kissing my breasts as passionately as he had in Sean’s study. Just looking at the bed made me want him to do everything he’d promised should I entice him again.

  My hand itched to touch the shiny black counterpane. I had to force myself over to the table next to the wing chair and peered down at the newspapers. Shock at the unexpected subject of the publications hit me in the stomach. “Murdered Woman Found.” “She Didn’t See Her Killer.” The main articles on the front pages of all of the crime publications were about murdered women. I dropped the articles and glanced at the book’s title. The Druid’s Sacrificial Rites.