Forever Mine

by Monica Burns

  Nick took a sip of his drink as he stared at the countess’ painting and realized his thoughts had once again placed him in the earl’s shoes. Suddenly, every part of him went numb, and he almost dropped his drink before he managed to set it on the side table using both of his shaking hands.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you Barrows? Nora and the Countess of Guildford aren’t the ones who need a psychiatrist. You are.”

  In the back of his mind, Nick knew he was fooling himself. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his thoughts. It was a laughable attempt as his gaze was drawn back to the weathered journal in his lap. He opened the book and found his place again. There were numerous anecdotes about her brother-in-law, Edmund, and it was clear from Victoria’s writings that she loved the man dearly despite his limited development.

  Nick paused as he realized it was the second time this evening he’d attributed the journals to his Victoria. He was on the verge of surrendering to Nora’s theories and beliefs, but he resisted and forced himself to focus on the page in front of him. The countess’ writing described her life with humor and passion. Although she didn’t detail her nights with the earl, she shared enough information to make Nick certain the intimacy she’d shared with her husband had been passionate and filled with love, which had enhanced her overall happiness.

  Andrew Edmund Thornhill, the next Earl of Guildford (not for a long, long time I pray) was born two days ago. He’s beautiful and looks like Nicholas. Well, he has Nicholas’ dark hair and like most parents, we both think he’s beautiful. I know Nicholas is still worried, but I keep reassuring him that the baby will be all right. Edmund has been strutting around like one of the peacocks on the lawn, saying his nephew was called Andrew Edmund with an emphasis on Edmund. LOL

  Nick dropped the book into his lap for a moment then picked it up again to stare at the letters LOL. Everyone used the acronym in texts, emails, and other social media. But how would the countess know to use that acronym? Not only that, but the countess’ diary entries were far too casual for the time period.

  Everything he’d read in the woman’s journal up to the usage of the modern day term increased the inevitable conclusion he was fighting hard to dismiss. He flipped to the next page in the journal. With the exception of one paragraph, the rest of the pages in the book were blank. Nick frowned.

  Why would she have stopped writing so abruptly? Had the countess died before she’d been able to write another entry? Nora had never said how the countess had died. He picked up his phone and saw it was one in the morning. He had no doubt his sister would bite his head off for calling her so early. With a sigh of resignation, he shook his head and decided it was time to go to bed too. Six-thirty was going to show up a lot faster than he wanted.

  When he was in bed a few minutes later, he found it almost impossible to sleep. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind kept returning to Victoria’s journals. A tidal wave of confusion crashed over him.

  “Bloody hell, I must be insane to think any of this is real,” he muttered into the dark. “People do not travel through time.”

  Maybe not, but what about past lives. Wouldn’t that explain his feelings for Victoria after having just met her? Nick turned over and punched his pillow hard several times with an explosive frustration. A moment later, he dropped his head onto the soft head rest. Sleep was the best antidote for all this mental chaos. Sleep would cure him of these crazy thoughts.

  § § §

  Nick found himself walking along a dark corridor dimly lit by one or two torches. There was something odd about his clothing, and the pistol he carried felt strange in his hand. Livid with anger, he wanted to kill the two men walking in front of him. As they reached the end of the corridor, Nick saw an indistinct figure take charge of the two men, which allowed him to open a heavy cell door.

  The interior of the cell was dark, and his anger grew. If they’d harmed one hair on her head, he’d kill them. He called to her in a soft voice. Then she was in his arms, her soft body trembling against his. Time shifted, and Nick felt his body flying forward. Danger stood right in front of him, although he couldn’t see what it was. Then he heard the cry of warning.

  A flash of light exploded in front of him, and he caught her in his arms, relieved she was unharmed. A moment later a terrible howl ripped through the fabric of his dream and Nick shot upright in bed. Sweat ran in rivulets down his back, and he snatched up his cellular phone. His frantic fingers punched the number to the nurse’s station on Victoria’s floor.

  “Four East,” a woman answered softly.

  “This is Nick Barrows. I’m just calling to see if there’s been any change in Victoria Ashton’s condition.”

  “I was just in her room a few minutes ago to take her vitals, Mr. Barrows. Nurse Willoughby said Miss Ashton has had no episodes and her status hasn’t changed.”

  “Thank you,” Nick muttered as he disconnected the call and collapsed back into his pillows.

  Get a hold of yourself, Barrows. You’re letting that journal make you believe you used to be Nicholas Thornhill. It’s all power of suggestion.

  “No, there’s something else happening here,” he said softly to himself. “Coincidence is one thing, but my feelings for Victoria Ashton are real.”

  Then accept the fact you were Nicholas Thornhill. Accept that you and your wife Victoria had a son named Andrew. The idea of embracing such a notion threatened to set his ordered existence in complete disarray. Ignoring his inner voice, Nick viciously punched at his pillows as he tried to fall sleep again. As he dosed off he heard his sister’s voice quietly chastising him. Everything is a leap of faith, Nick. Everything.

  Chapter 36

  August 1898

  Nicholas walked up the steps of Guildford House as a sense of foreboding fell over him. He’d only been gone from Victoria and the baby for little more than two weeks, and yet he’d never been so lonely in his entire life. If it weren’t for the fact that Reardon had suddenly surfaced last week, he would have been home by now. But it was the first time Reardon had been seen since the man had threatened Victoria in December. Even more frustrating, the man had disappeared again, and it had been five days now since the man was last seen.

  He opened the front door of the townhouse and heard the sound of a carriage clattering wildly up the street. He glanced over his shoulder and frowned at the reckless driving of the man at the reins. About to step over the door’s threshold, he halted as he heard Mickey call out to him. He instantly turned around with a sinking heart.

  “It’s her ladyship, my lord. Someone’s kidnapped her and Master Edmund.”

  Mickey’s words sucked the air out of Nicholas’ lungs as he stared at the boy. Unable to move, his brain shut down. He shook his head slowly as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. The boy stared up at him with a look of shocked horror on his face.

  “Jacobs tried to save them, but the criminals shot him.”

  “When did this happen?” Nicholas choked out as his brain slowly began to function again.

  “They’ve been gone more than six hours, my lord,” the stable hand said in a worried voice. “Jamieson sent me to catch the first train to London to fetch you back to Brentwood Park.”

  Nicholas nodded then urged the boy into the house and off to the kitchen to get something to drink. As Mickey disappeared down the hall leading to the back of the house, Nicholas tried to form a plan of action. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know how. He’d always been able to act without thinking, but now his brain was paralyzed.

  Someone had taken Victoria and Edmund. No, not someone, Reardon. He had no proof, only the conviction born of instinct. Fury, with the intensity of a black storm, welled up inside him. Rage was good. He could use that to keep him focused and driven until he found Victoria and his brother.

  Nicholas dropped his hat and cane on the entryway table and shouted for Roberts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone in the doorway of the salon. He turned his head to see El
eanor at the entrance to the salon. Her connection to Reardon had been strengthened over the last few months as investigators had uncovered a larger network of anarchists with Eleanor being the primary source of financing.

  The only reason Sir Kenelm hadn’t ordered her arrest was because they’d failed to capture Reardon yet. Sebastian and he had determined the book Reardon believed Victoria possessed was either a listing of the man’s activities or his contacts. Either way, the book was valuable, and if Reardon thought hurting Victoria would get him what he wanted, Nicholas knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to do just that.

  “Why are you here, my lady?” he ground out fiercely.

  “Oh, please, Nicholas, do not be so cold to me,” she said in a voice that echoed with a note of hysteria.

  “What do you want, Eleanor?”

  “I…I am sorry, mon cher, I could not think of what else to do. I had to come warn you.” Her rambling irritated Nicholas and he turned his head to shout for Roberts before turning back to the duchess who was still speaking in disjointed phrases.

  “What is it you wish to warn me about, Eleanor?” he asked impatiently.

  “You’re in grave danger. He’ll stop at nothing,” the duchess whispered, a look of horror on her face. Something in the woman’s voice broke through Nicholas’ anger, and he frowned.

  “Who will stop at nothing?”

  “Mon dieu,” she exclaimed. “If I tell you, he’ll kill me for betraying him like this.”

  Eleanor swayed in the doorway and clutched at the door jamb to remain standing. Instinctively, he realized she was referring to Reardon.

  “I’m sure whatever you tell me won’t be a betrayal, Eleanor. You’re obviously distraught. Perhaps a brandy will help soothe your nerves,” he said as gently as he could under the circumstances. The instant he took a step toward the doorway, she waved her hands at him feverishly.

  “Non, non, Mon dieu, he intends to make it look like you killed her. He told me if I tried to stop him, he’d kill me too. I should have told you about him long ago, Nicholas.” Eleanor bowed her head and sobbed. When she lifted her head again, tears were streaming down her face. “He threatened to kill me if I said anything. I thought I loved him. It’s why I married him. I didn’t realize who…what he was until it was too late. Mon dieu, what am I going to do?”

  “Eleanor, do you know where Victoria is?” he demanded as the duchess’ ramblings sent fear threading its way insidiously through his veins. She ignored him, her face contorted with a wild expression as she struggled with inner demons.

  “She came back from the dead you know. Both of them were there, they said they’d buried her, but she came back. Mon dieu, I thought you hated her. It made it so easy not to care that they’d killed her. He’s afraid of her. He thinks she knows everything, but I don’t think she does.”

  “Eleanor, listen to me, tell me where they’ve taken her?” It was as if someone was choking him and making it impossible to breathe as he tried to get Eleanor to speak rationally. Nicholas quickly closed the distance between them to grab the woman by the shoulders and shake her.

  “She’s a witch Darby said. You have to drown witches.”

  She sounded like a woman on the verge of descending into madness. Nicholas knew he couldn’t let her go there until she gave him the information he needed to find Victoria. Behind him, Roberts cleared his throat to announce his presence, but Nicholas disregarded the valet, as he shook the duchess again.

  “Damn it, Eleanor. Tell me where he’s taken her.”

  “Darby said he would kill her again, but he died instead. She’s a real witch. She casts spells on everyone. She’s bewitched you, hasn’t she, Nicholas. He said he would lock her away in a dungeon where you won’t be able to find her. He said you would pay. He doesn’t really want his book. He just wants to destroy you because you killed his brother. He hates you.”

  “What dungeon, Eleanor. Try to think.”

  “I loved you, but he didn’t want me to have you.” As her rambling continued, Nicholas walked away from Eleanor to Roberts and kept his voice low.

  “Send a message to Lord Barrows and Lord Starling. I need them to meet me at the London Waterloo train station in…” Nicholas pulled out his pocket watched and bit back a sound of fear. There was only one train left for Guildford today. “In forty-five minutes. Lady Guildford’s and Master Edmund’s lives depend on it.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Roberts nodded then uttered a loud shout. “My lord, watch out.”

  Whirling about, Nicholas saw a small pistol in Eleanor’s hand. Eyes filled with tears, she looked at him beseechingly.

  “I can’t live without you, Nicholas. You must understand that. He’ll kill her, but I don’t care. All I’ve ever cared about was you. I love you, Nicholas.”

  “Eleanor, put the gun down,” he said quietly and took a step toward her.

  At the sound of his voice, her rambling came to an abrupt halt. With a sharp movement, the duchess raised the pistol to her head and pulled the trigger. As she slumped to the floor, Nicholas ran forward to kneel at her side. Her breathing labored for a second more, and he watched the light in her eyes die until her gaze became lifeless.

  “I’m sorry, Eleanor,” he murmured. Standing, he turned to his valet. “When you send for Barrows and Starling, make sure you send for the constable as well. Don’t touch her until the constable says you may do so. Is that understood?”

  Despite his obvious dismay, Roberts nodded abruptly and ran from the room. With one more glance at Eleanor’s still form, Nicholas hurried upstairs to change into clothes more appropriate for riding. He had no doubt that once they reached Guildford, he’d be on horseback. In a half hour, he was pacing the floor of the London Waterloo station as he waited on his friends. He heard his name called, and he turned around to see Charles and Sebastian hurrying toward him.

  “I say, Nicholas. What’s all this about Victoria’s life being in danger?” Charles asked as he shook Nicholas’ hand.

  “She and Edmund were kidnapped this afternoon,” Nicholas bit out with a steely calm he was certain would fail him the moment he found Reardon anywhere near his wife and brother.

  “By Reardon?” Sebastian asked in a way that told Nicholas that Anna had shared a vision with her husband. Something in his friend’s eyes calmed some of his fears. The man reached out to pat his shoulder in a silent commitment of solidarity.

  “Eleanor’s dead.” Nicholas’ statement renewed the shocked expressions of his friends.

  “What?” Sebastian exclaimed.

  “Good God,” Charles said in astonishment.

  “She came to Guildford House just before I sent word for the two of you to meet me here. She was confused and disoriented,” he said as he recalled Eleanor’s wild ramblings. “I tried to calm her, but she was delusional. Before I could stop her, she put a pistol to her head and pulled the trigger.”

  “My God,” Sebastian said softly

  “Sweet Jesus,” Charles whispered in horror.

  As his friends took in his news, Nicholas closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to remember something important. He knew it had to do with Eleanor, but if he couldn’t—suddenly the memory popped into his head. He quickly turned to Charles.

  “Charles, do you remember telling me shortly after Darby died that if the man had survived you would have locked him up in his dungeon?”

  “Yes,” Charles said with a nod of agreement. “I was referring to the dungeon Darby said was in the priory on his family’s estate.”

  “Eleanor said Reardon would lock Victoria in a dungeon where I’d never find her. She said Reardon intends to kill Victoria because I didn’t save his brother from the Lydney Mill fire shortly after I inherited my title.”

  “Bloody hell. Darby’s family estate is just south of Brentwood Park,” Charles exclaimed. “It’s only about two hours by horse, three at the most. It’s near Godalming. I think that’s the stop just after Guildford station.”

  “Sebas
tian, there’s a five o’clock train to Guildford, see if it goes on to Godalming. I’ll send a telegram to the house telling them to have horses waiting for us there.”

  As his friends ran off to buy their tickets, Nicholas raced toward the telegraph office. Ever since Mickey had told him Victoria was missing, he’d been convinced he would reach her in time. Now he wasn’t so certain. Deep inside, something told him that things were far worse than he imagined.

  Chapter 37

  The entire train ride to Godalming, Nicholas paced the corridor outside the closed carriage compartment Sebastian had secured for them. His leg was growing increasingly painful, but he ignored it. Victoria was worth any pain he endured. They were halfway through their trip when Sebastian had insisted he sit down. He’d done as his friend had said, but returned to prowling the corridor a short time later.

  Nicholas came to an abrupt halt and braced his hands on the edge of the window, which had been opened to help cool the train’s interior. As the hot summer wind blew across his face, he could have sworn he heard Victoria calling for him. He knew it was impossible, but he closed his eyes and released a harsh breath.

  “I’m coming, sweet witch. I’m coming as fast as I can,” he said softly. Behind him, the compartment door rattled open and then closed, but he didn’t turn around.

  “Nicholas, we’re going to find them,” Sebastian said quietly. “Anna made me promise to not to tell you this, but she’s not here to see how worried you are. She firmly believes you’ll find Victoria and Edmund, and that Reardon will die tonight.”

  “That’s because I’m going to kill him,” Nicholas said with an icy calm that surprised him. Despite his steady outward appearance, his fear was almost paralyzing. He stared out into the dark and shook his head.

  “I was a fool. I should never have left her until Reardon was caught,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “You aren’t a fool,” Sebastian said quietly. “There was no way you could have foreseen this.”