Elizabeth glanced at her father, whose expression of dismay matched hers. “I thought – ”
“Say your goodbyes. I’ll meet you in the bailey. You can send for the rest of your things later.” He knew he acted like a beast, but what choice did he have? He needed to get home as quickly as possible, and he had no intention of explaining the reason to his wife. He could only hope this latest vision was not what he thought, that William wasn’t dead.
“Brom, Stephen, ready the horses.” Nicholas turned to leave the chapel and caught sight of Lord Crefton once more. He strode over to where the old lord sat in the chair. He squatted down and looked him in the eye.
“I’m taking your daughter from you, just as you took my brother from me.” Nicholas heard Elizabeth gasp at his words, but didn’t bother to look at her. “May you suffer as I do.”
Crefton held his gaze. He seemed to understand what Nicholas had said, for his eyes filled with a deep sadness. He gave Nicholas a small nod.
“Let him be,” Elizabeth said from behind him. For the first time, her tone held anger.
Nicholas held Crefton’s gaze a moment longer before standing.
Elizabeth rushed to her father, then glared at Nicholas.
Before he could exit the chapel, Lady Margaret grabbed his arm and held him tightly. “My lord, despite what you think, Elizabeth meant no harm. If it weren’t for her, you would never have known what happened to your brother. She is the light in our life. I know you will honor her. When you realize her innocence, set her free so she can return to us. Unblemished.”
Nicholas removed her hand from his arm. “She is the one who struck this bargain. Now she will have to live with it.”
Brom waited for him outside the chapel door. “Stephen’s getting the horses. Are you all right? What did you see?”
Genuine concern shone in his eyes rather than the morbid curiosity that Nicholas had seen in so many others.
Nicholas shook his head. “I fear William is dead.”
Dismay filled Brom’s expression. “Hell’s teeth, my lord. No wonder you’re in such a hurry. Shall I explain our rush to the lady – er, I mean to your wife?”
“Nay. She’ll find out soon enough.”
Brom’s mouth tightened in disapproval, but he said nothing. He merely gave Nicholas a quick nod and hurried toward the stables.
When Elizabeth still didn’t appear, Nicholas stalked back to the chapel door.
She hugged her father tightly, tears streaming down her face as she spoke to him. Robert and Margaret stood nearby, matching expressions of sadness on their faces.
Elizabeth looked up and saw Nicholas watching. Her expression turned wary as though she feared what he might do next.
Good.
At least something positive would come from this madness.
Maybe she’d stay the hell away from him.
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth eyed the front gate of Staverton with shame and regret. The foreboding gatehouse was barely visible in the torchlight and looked as though it had been dropped straight down from the night sky. The structure towered two stories high with a heavy grilled portcullis set in the center – a far from welcoming sight.
This was the place of her horrible deed. She’d hauled William all this way in that awful cart and abandoned him there. She swallowed hard, trying to settle her sudden nausea, well aware she deserved every punishment Nicholas threw at her.
Had it been only a week since she’d last made this journey? Her worst nightmare had come true – not only had her and her father’s desperate actions been discovered, but there was no mercy in the man who had unearthed their misdeeds.
A heavy blanket of despair threatened to suffocate her. She couldn’t think; she could barely breathe. She was exhausted, both from the tears she’d shed at leaving her home as well as from the brutally fast pace Nicholas had set.
After Nicholas had identified their small party to the guards on duty, the portcullis rumbled open. The horses made their way into the holding, their hooves click-clacking on the cobblestones. Elizabeth could just see the outline of some cottages, the stables, and a large, stone keep set to the back of the deserted bailey. Everyone had long since sought their beds.
Nicholas rode directly toward the keep without a backward glance, but Brom and Stephen headed toward the stables. She pulled on the reins of her tired horse, urging it to follow her husband. The mare hesitated and looked back toward the stables.
“Come,” Elizabeth urged her. “Just a bit farther.”
The mare consented at last and followed Nicholas’s large, gray destrier. Her husband had barely looked at her since their departure from Amberley earlier that morning and hadn’t spoken to her other than to give her a terse instruction once or twice.
For a brief moment after they’d said their vows, something in his expression had suggested he was going to offer her some sort of truce or, at the very least, a few kind words.
Then everything had gone wrong. He’d stumbled and raised his hand to his temple, his expression one of pain. Elizabeth wondered if he had some sort of illness that caused the headaches and mood swings that he seemed to suffer from.
Since then, there had been no sign of the warm, caring man who’d made butterflies dance in her belly, who’d kissed her in the quiet kitchen, who’d played so gently with the children, who’d given her a taste of passion. It seemed as though he was gone for good. And she feared that even if William recovered, Nicholas wouldn’t let her go.
The situation seemed hopeless.
Before she reached the keep, Nicholas dismounted and raced up the steps two at a time, obviously anxious to see his brother. She couldn’t blame him. A young boy hurried across the bailey, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He bowed as he held her reins. “I’ll see to your things, my lady.”
“My thanks.” She slid off the horse slowly, wincing as her feet touched the ground.
The boy gave her a tired grin, then grabbed the reins of Nicholas’s horse, and headed toward the stables.
Left alone at the foot of the steps on legs made of stone, she inhaled the cool night air, her breath coming out in a long, white puff. The stars shone brilliantly in the sky, so numerous that only a few spots in the inky blackness weren’t holding a bright pinpoint of light. The sight made her feel insignificant and even more alone.
Hoping to find a bed on which to rest her weary body, she trudged up the long flight of steps. The last time she’d spent that much time on a horse had been...well, she didn’t think she’d ever been on a horse for that long.
On her previous journey here, she’d sat with William in the cart much of the time. On the way back, she and Robert had made frequent stops. But tonight, her legs were numb, her knees ached, and the small of her back would hardly bend.
She hadn’t voiced one word of complaint to Nicholas, even though they’d traveled hard and fast as though the devil himself rode their heels. She well knew her discomfort mattered little to her husband.
As she reached the top of the stairs, Brom caught up with her, carrying her small wooden chest and a leather bag that held a few of her things. “I’m certain you’re very tired, my lady,” he said.
“Indeed.” She returned his smile as best she could.
He tucked her things under one arm then opened the thick oak door for her. She entered the keep only to pause.
The great hall spread out to her right. Embers glowed in the large hearth, casting shadows on a few of those slumbering on their pallets on the floor. A stairway rose to the upper floor on her left.
Nicholas was nowhere in sight. Should she wait for him in the great hall? Unsure, she looked back at Brom, who stood motionless with her chest and bag, staring up the stairs.
Certain Nicholas would seek out his brother immediately, she mounted the stairs. Her husband might not want her anywhere near William, but she was determined to help if she could.
Brom stepped forward. “My lady, it would probably be best if you waited
in the hall.”
She waved him away. “I would see how William fares.”
“But, my lady – ”
“I will be fine, Brom. Thank you,” she said in dismissal as she continued up the steps, thinking only of William. At the top of the first landing, she peeked into a chamber where a faint light glowed. She could just make out the silhouette of Nicholas sitting on the edge of the bed.
A sour stench overpowered the solar, reeking of death. Her concern deepened. Did William yet live? She drew closer to the bed, anxious to see him.
The man lying there couldn’t possibly be William. The weak light made him difficult to identify, but this man was much thinner; his pallor held a blue-gray tint, his arms lay crossed over his chest as though – Dear God, had he died?
Feeling very much the intruder, she turned to look at her new husband, hoping he would clarify William’s condition for her.
Nicholas held his hand over his eyes. By the stiffness of his shoulders, Elizabeth feared the worst. She cleared her throat nervously.
“Leave,” he said in a low yet clear voice.
Elizabeth’s breath caught, his quiet words striking her like a blow. “Nicholas, please...”
A long moment passed before she made out the small lift of one of his shoulders. She took it as permission to come closer. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimly lit chamber, revealing a maidservant who sat on a chair near the window.
As Elizabeth approached, she rose and bobbed a nervous curtsy. “Does he still live?” Elizabeth asked in a whisper.
The maid nodded as she wrung her hands. Her worried glance darted between the two brothers before returning to Elizabeth again. “He’s not faring well though, my lady. He’s not eating or drinking anything.”
Elizabeth stared at William, unable to believe what her eyes told her. How could his condition have become this dire? She’d been certain when she’d left him here that he would recover quickly. He was a young, strong, otherwise healthy man.
Nicholas leaned forward. “William?” His voice was quiet. “William, can you hear me?”
Nothing. Not the smallest movement.
Nicholas reached out a tentative hand to touch his brother’s cheek. The tenderness in the gesture broke Elizabeth’s heart.
William remained so still, she wondered yet again if he’d already passed.
Nicholas must’ve had the same concern, for he bent over him to place his ear near William’s mouth. After a long moment, Nicholas leaned back, his shoulders relaxing now. Elizabeth assumed that meant he’d heard or felt him breathe.
“Mary, please show Lady de Bremont to her chamber,” he told the maid. He did not look at Elizabeth, but kept his gaze on William. “I’ll stay with my brother for the remainder of the night.”
“Aye, my lord.” The maid looked at Elizabeth curiously, but asked no questions. “This way, my lady.”
Elizabeth started to follow her but stopped. Nicholas looked so devastated that she couldn’t stand it. “Please, I would stay and help.”
“He can’t afford anymore of your help.”
His words stole her breath, crushing guilt weighed heavy on her chest. “My lord – ”
“Go. Leave. Now.”
His icy tone cut through her, denying her the chance to apologize. Again.
No matter.
It would do no good, as she well knew. She’d apologized already to no avail. She glanced one last time at William before she left the room. Tears welled in her eyes. A lump burned in her throat. Dear God, what had she done by dragging William across the countryside in that cart? That might’ve been what had put him in this state.
All the bitter thoughts she’d had of Nicholas evaporated in an instant. Nicholas was right to despise her so. She had wronged him and his brother most terribly.
She followed Mary to a generous-sized chamber that held a tester bed. Deep red curtains framed the bed with a sheet-covered bolster and pillows. A bed fit for a lord. She swallowed hard. “Are you certain I’m to stay here?”
Mary looked at her in surprise. “But of course, my lady. ’Tis the master’s chambers.”
Before Elizabeth could suggest she confirm the sleeping arrangements with Nicholas, Mary said, “I’ll fetch some water and cloths for washing.” She stepped out of the room.
Elizabeth waited, looking around the stark room uneasily. Shame filled her as though she’d been caught rifling through Nicholas’s personal items.
A large chest sat against one wall and a narrow table stood beside the bed. Wooden pegs lined the top of the wall adjacent to the door. The foot of the bed faced the fire, though no coals burned there. A shuttered window was at the far end of the room.
Before she could investigate, a soft knock sounded at the door, and she started at the sound. “Come in.”
A manservant opened the door. He bowed, then proceeded to bring her wooden chest and bag into the room. “Where would you like these, my lady?”
She directed him to put them at the foot of the bed. Perhaps the servants had the right of it, and Nicholas did intend to share his chamber with her. Her stomach tightened as she stared at the large bed that took up most of the room. Before she could worry overmuch on the matter, Mary returned.
“I’m certain you’re feeling dusty from your travels. Might I help you with your kirtle?” she asked with a timid smile as she put the water and cloths down on the table.
“Nay. I’ll be fine. Thank you for everything.”
“My pleasure, my lady. Please let us know if there’s anything you need.” She curtsied and left.
Elizabeth stripped down to her undertunic, hung her gown on one of the pegs, and rinsed off the grime from her journey. A bath would have to wait until the morrow.
Before long, she’d changed into her nightgown and settled into the bed, drawing the covers over her. The bed linens smelled of her husband, fresh with a hint of the forest. She sniffed again, unable to put her finger on the exact scent he carried. The pillow felt pleasantly plump, but she stared at the one on the other side of the bed, wondering which side he preferred.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Worrying over such things was ridiculous. Nicholas had been adamant that their marriage would be a union in name only, and the idea of him changing his mind so soon seemed highly improbable.
Her tired mind filled with the image of Nicholas hanging his head in his hands as though all hope was lost. If only there was something she could do, something she could say that might help. Anything to make Nicholas not hate her so, to make William better. Hoping an idea would come to her in the morning, she fell into a restless sleep.
*
Should he pray?
Nicholas scoffed at the thought. God had never answered any of his prayers. Why would He do so now? In a gesture of defiance, he rose and uncrossed William’s arms to lay them gently along his sides. The priest might be ready to let William go, but Nicholas was not.
Had William given up? Had he had enough of this battle and decided to sink into the darkness of death? If Nicholas had remained by his side, would he have been able to help him? Guilt swamped him at the thought. He shouldn’t have left his side. And he shouldn’t have suppressed the visions haunting him. If he’d allowed them, maybe he could’ve rescued his brother before he’d been injured. He was as guilty as Elizabeth.
“William, if you can hear me then fight. You cannot die!” He held his brother’s limp hand, willing him to open his eyes.
Yet again, the vision he’d seen had been wrong. Not that he wasn’t grateful his brother still lived. Not at all. It just proved that he couldn’t rely on his second sight. The information shown to him did not always come to pass. Perhaps it was because he intervened, as his mother had often suggested, but Nicholas had his doubts. He’d never understood what purpose his second sight served. How could he use it to help anyone when he could never comprehend what the visions foretold?
“I’ve failed you once again, brother. I can only hope you survive this time
as well.”
He sat back down heavily on the chair beside William’s bed, his exhaustion at last catching up with him. The journey home had passed in a blur with worry driving him. He knew the trip had been difficult for Elizabeth, but he’d tried to ignore her discomfort, leaving her care to Brom and Stephen. He’d been surprised that she hadn’t complained, though he’d caught a glare or two she’d thrown his way.
As he watched William’s still form, he couldn’t help but question what purpose his quest for vengeance had served.
None.
None whatsoever.
It hadn’t helped anything. All he’d done was marry a deceitful woman who would never be his wife in truth. Stupidity at its best.
Anger and desire for Elizabeth burned equally bright within him. What kind of man was he that he desired the woman who’d put his brother in this condition? Had he no free will? Was she some sort of witch who’d woven her spell over him or was he a monster with no self control?
He rubbed his hands over his weary eyes, then forced himself to look at the shadow of his brother. He stared hard and long, determined to erase any feelings he felt for his wife.
Thoughts of Elizabeth faded. A lump burned in Nicholas’s throat. Damn! He wanted to hit something, to take action, not sit there helplessly watching his brother wither before his very eyes! This helpless feeling was what had caused him to leave Staverton a few days past.
Nicholas could only hope the same misery kept Lord Crefton company this night.
And then, before he could stop it, his mind spun back to Elizabeth. He tried hard to wipe her out of his thoughts, to block the vision of her large brown eyes imploring him to understand. To forget the tender kiss they’d shared that had him longing for things that could never be.
This time, he failed.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth woke slowly as the morning light brightened the chamber. She looked around the strange room as memories of the previous day returned. With a heavy heart, she said a prayer for her father and the others she’d left behind at Amberley and another for William. The other side of the bed had not been touched, but she was not surprised.
Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me Page 9