Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Don’t leave Kingsley Hall.

  Captain Mariner’s warning resounded in her brain. But her godmothers obviously needed her out of their way. Though she took his caution seriously, she knew that she had to leave the house. She wouldn’t go far, only to the stream. It was close enough that anyone would hear her shouts.

  In any event, it wouldn’t take the captain long to accomplish his business. The Darkwells were not going to invite him in for tea as they confessed their evil deeds, nor were they going to give him permission to prowl about their property.

  No, the captain would have to wait until tonight to explore their grounds or break into their home and search through Lord Darkwell’s private papers.

  “I’ll be safe enough,” she muttered as she set out four cups and their matching saucers.

  Prudence was the first to return downstairs after unpacking from their brief journey. She walked into the dining room while Winnie was still muttering to herself. “Did you say something, dear?”

  “No, Prudence. I was deciding whether to put out the butter or the marmalade.”

  “Mustn’t skimp, dear. I’ll tell Mrs. Halloway to bring both to the table.”

  As Prudence disappeared into the kitchen, Winnie’s thoughts returned to the Darkwells. Surely she would be safe enough from them this morning. They were king and queen of the May Fair and would host today’s opening ceremonies just as they had done yesterday, which would keep them occupied for several hours and unable to engage in mischief.

  The captain had mentioned that a third person was involved, the one he claimed had control of those wicked dogs. But he’d shot the bounder, and Winnie had seen that person run off clutching his arm. In all likelihood, said bounder would be home nursing his wounds and desperate to avoid detection. Or her wounds. The captain thought the assailant had been a woman.

  Prudence bustled in with the marmalade and set it on the table. “Oh, dear me! I’ve forgotten the butter.”

  She bustled out again, allowing Winnie to weigh the dangers of disobeying the captain’s warning. Logically, she wouldn’t be in danger these next few hours. The captain had scared off her attackers. They knew he would not be gentle when dealing with them. The Darkwells and their accomplice, if one existed, had to be afraid of him. They’d hide and lick their wounds until he left town.

  She thought of their other victim, Miss Allenby-Falk, and hoped the captain would stop by her house as well. Winnie didn’t really believe she had been attacked, for word of it would have reached her ears by now if it were true. Village gossip spread fast when the news was bad. Still, the Darkwells had put a sliver of doubt in her mind, and she wanted to be sure no harm had befallen the woman.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her of another reason Winnie hoped the captain would speak to Miss Allenby-Falk. Ah, yes. The rancid—possibly poisoned—meat pie. Had anyone been with her when she’d baked it? Or had access to it after the fact?

  In truth, Winnie doubted he’d get useful information out of Miss Allenby-Falk, for she was an irritating mix of dull and fretful. She would quickly drive him out the door with her pointless chatter and feigned heart palpitations.

  She thought no more of dogs, Darkwells, or distressed spinsters as Harmony and Serenity joined her and Prudence. “Mrs. Halloway mentioned that the fair was quite entertaining this year,” Serenity said, “and that you were the prettiest May princess ever.”

  Winnie laughed lightly. “I was passable, at best. Thankfully, my princess duties are over now and I am once again a young woman of no consequence. Will you visit the fair today?”

  Harmony spoke up at once. “No, dear. We have too much to do at home. Besides, we’ll be busy baking pies when you return with the berries.”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t you simply purchase all the pies you need at the fair? Mrs. Cummings is selling them in her stall. I hear they’re quite delicious.”

  Serenity faked a yawn. “I think we’ll stay home today.”

  Prudence picked another non-existent speck off her sleeve while Harmony poured herself more tea.

  “Would you care for another biscuit, Harmony?” Winnie stared at her godmothers. The darlings were fidgeting and distracted and clearly wanted her out of the house in order to prepare for the birthday party she wasn’t supposed to know about. Taking pity on them, she quickly ate the last of her biscuit and gulped down the last of her tea, then rose. “I’ll be off.”

  She gave each a kiss on the cheek, grabbed a basket to hold the berries that she’d never find this early in the season, and then secretly grabbed one of the fire irons. She hid it in the folds of her cloak and strolled out of the house to wait for Captain Mariner by the stream.

  It was early yet, too soon for him to return. But she had been thinking about his offer to teach her how to swim and knew she had been hasty in refusing him. Every girl ought to have something wondrous and special happen in her life. Captain Mariner was that for her… and anyway, she had to overcome her fear of the water.

  Why not agree to let him teach her?

  She settled on a flat rock beside the bank and gazed across to the other side. It wasn’t far. How difficult could it be to swim the width with the captain by her side? He’d catch her if she faltered. There was no risk of her drowning.

  She tossed a pebble into the water and heard it hit the surface with a soft plop. “I can do this.” She decided to accept his offer as soon as he returned, for there was no time to waste. Despite his assurances, despite his promise to stay until the danger had passed, she knew he would leave her soon. Perhaps as early as today. “You can’t go until I see the dragon on your back,” she would tell him.

  She also wanted him to stay for her birthday. Her godmothers had invited everyone in the village to her party, which meant that the Darkwells would be in attendance as well. Even if the captain didn’t join in the merriment, he could slip out and search their home. The party would provide him the perfect opportunity.

  Yes, she’d tell him that.

  She wanted one more day with him.

  Winnie was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed the soft growl emanating from the nearby trees. “Oh, no!”

  Her heart shot into her throat, and her hands shook as she grabbed her cloak and withdrew the ash shovel from its fold. She managed to scramble to her feet in time to face the beasts. There were only two… and their injured master.

  Winnie paled.

  “It’s you,” she said in an aching whisper. “I never would have guessed.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ardaric went to the Darkwell residence as soon as he left Winnie, only to learn from their butler that his lordship and ladyship had packed up in haste and left for London not an hour before. “Most odd,” the old man muttered. “My apologies, sir. Were they expecting you?”

  “Yes, I should think so. But it isn’t important. I’ll call upon them another time.” Since he had no intention of following the pair to London quite yet, he inquired about directions to Miss Allenby-Falk’s house.

  The butler, although still bemused by the swift departure of his employers, readily gave him the requested instructions. “I dare say, she’s probably left for the fair by now. She has a stall there to sell her pies, although I wouldn’t recommend them. They aren’t very good.”

  Ardaric thanked him and was about to turn away when he decided to ask one more question of the servant. “Did either Lord or Lady Darkwell appear ill or injured, by any chance? I do hope it wasn’t a medical scare that sent them off to town in such a hurry.”

  “No, sir. In truth, I haven’t seen them move so fast in years.” He pursed his lips in thought. “Quite fit and nimble, if you ask me.”

  Ardaric swallowed his disappointment. By that description, it seemed evident that neither one was the person he’d shot. “I’m relieved to hear it. Good day.”

  “Sir, about Miss Allenby-Falk… as I mentioned, she lives in the large house just over yon hill, but…”

  “Yes?�
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  “If you intend to call upon her at home, don’t take the shortcut through the woods. She has traps set across her grounds. One of the scullery maids almost lost her foot in one of those nasty things last week.” He shook his head and sighed. “As I said, you’re best off looking for her at the fair.”

  “I appreciate the warning.” He left the Darkwell residence and made his way down the road toward Miss Allenby-Falk’s home. It seemed odd that a genteel spinster would set dangerous traps on her property, but perhaps she had a reason. Those wild dogs might have been wandering in these woods for weeks and killing her chickens.

  No, they weren’t wild.

  They were trained to kill.

  Perhaps the traps weren’t meant for those dogs, but to keep people away while she trained them. Could Miss Allenby-Falk be the person he’d shot? Why would she be mixed up in a plot to harm Winnie? For that matter, why would the Darkwells or anyone else in Grasmere be involved?

  He ran a hand roughly across the back of his neck as the little hairs there prickled and stood on end. Something about Miss Allenby-Falk didn’t feel right. From the little he’d seen or heard of the woman, she had seemed harmless enough and not the sort to purposely hurt anyone or train dogs to kill.

  But nothing was as it seemed in this simple village, was it? Everyone he’d encountered had lied, was lying, or intended to lie to him. Nor was he innocent in all this, for he hadn’t revealed his true identity to Winnie.

  The only person who hadn’t lied or deceived anyone was Winnie. So why would anyone want her dead? He wasn’t imagining things. Those dogs had been trained to kill her. Twice they’d lunged at her and not at him even though he’d been standing in their way.

  Such training took time and patience. These attacks were not rash acts committed in the heat of the moment. Damn all these secrets and lies.

  He wished Winnie knew more than what she’d told him.

  It wasn’t much for him to go on, a story about being taken from her baronial home as an infant and placed in the care of her three godmothers. Was it even true? And what other information were her godmothers hiding from the girl?

  As he walked down the road, he realized that Miss Allenby-Falk’s house was on the outskirts of town, situated beyond a hill that obstructed everyone’s view of her home until they were almost upon it.

  He was now more curious than ever about an eccentric spinster who lived in isolation and quietly set the sort of traps that could sever one’s foot.

  He hoped she’d be at the fair and not available when he called, for he was eager to search her property without distraction.

  As he approached her house, a rather gloomy, run-down structure built of gray stone, he saw her dash out the door and hurry toward a barn that was little more than pieces of rotting wood holding up a shabby roof. She had a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, but as the wind gusted and blew back the cloak, he noticed that her arm was in a sling. Bloody hell.

  The wind gusted again and suddenly shifted direction, carrying with it a stench reminiscent of dead bodies strewn about a battlefield. In the next moment, he heard barks and whimpers coming from the barn. Of course, that’s where you keep the dogs.

  He realized those creatures would pick up his scent if he did not leave immediately, so he quietly backed away.

  He’d seen enough.

  He decided to return to Winnie and make certain she was safe. He’d secure the house and talk to her godmothers, make them aware of the danger. Only then would he go off in search of the magistrate. The man would no doubt be at the fair, in charge of the festivities now that the Darkwells were on the run.

  As for Miss Allenby-Falk, it took a particular sort of twisted mind to plot murder.

  He was glad he’d warned Winnie to remain indoors. Miss Allenby-Falk was as deranged and vicious as her dogs.

  From what he could make out, there appeared to be only two of those creatures left.

  But they could still cause much harm.

  He had to warn Winnie.

  Winnie’s mind began to race as Miss Allenby-Falk emerged from a wooded area near the stream and walked toward her followed by two sharp-toothed creatures who barely resembled dogs. “Winnie, what a pleasant surprise. Are you out here on your own?”

  “Captain Mariner will be along soon.” I hope. “You remember him, don’t you? He’s the one who shot you last night.”

  “And killed my dogs.” Miss Allenby-Falk always had a bird-like aspect to her movements, her gaze darting right and left and head always bobbing as though she were searching for earthworms. Those little quirks were now so prominent that the woman’s entire body twitched, no doubt with excitement now that Winnie was obviously alone and trapped.

  She ought to have heeded the captain’s warning. Logically, her assailants should have been on the run or in hiding until the captain left Grasmere.

  But madness wasn’t logical.

  Captain Mariner understood, but she hadn’t until now that it was too late.

  Winnie took a step back but kept her fire iron poised. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

  Miss Allenby-Falk stopped bobbing her head and gazed at her with a disquieting intensity. “I don’t wish to merely hurt you. I wish to kill you.”

  Winnie’s heart began to pound against her chest with painful force. She was in trouble. The woman was a bad mix of bloodthirsty and deranged. “Very well,” she said, trying to keep the woman distracted and talking until help came along, “why must you kill me? What have I ever done to you?”

  She tried to sound calm but didn’t think she was succeeding, for her voice cracked with every other word, and she had so many more questions. Why now upon my twenty-first birthday? And what was Lord and Lady Darkwell’s role in the demented plans?

  “You’ve existed, that’s all.” Miss Allenby-Falk shrugged her bony shoulders and studied the swift current as it moved downstream. “You were the beautiful child who brought joy to her parents. But their joy was my pain. Your death will end my pain, so now it’s time for beauty to sleep… an eternal sleep.”

  Winnie raised her shovel, preparing to take a swing. “I don’t think so.”

  The madwoman took a step toward her. “I tried to drown you once, you know.”

  “It appears you failed.” Goading the madwoman wasn’t the brightest idea, but she needed to stall for time. If the woman had tried to drown her, the attempt must have occurred long before Winnie was old enough to keep memories. No wonder she’d always been afraid of the water. She suppressed a shudder, realizing she was standing beside deep waters now. Her body began to shake and her breaths now came too fast to control.

  Please, Captain Mariner. Now would be a good time for you to appear.

  “Did your doting godmothers never tell you what happened? How sweet. They wanted to spare you the lurid details. What else haven’t they told you? Probably all of it.”

  Winnie’s fingers were white against the fire iron she was gripping it so hard. “But you’ll tell me. It will give you pleasure to see me cry and suffer.”

  Miss Allenby-Falk glanced at her dogs, who were crouched low and softly growling. “I spent years training my pets, waiting for the day I’d watch them rip out your throat. But I have a better plan.” Her laughter was a harsh cackle. “I’ll watch you drown instead.”

  Winnie glanced at the stream.

  She didn’t know which was worse, death by drowning or by dog attack. She might have saved herself if she’d taken Captain Mariner up on his offer. Too late now to learn how to swim.

  “The morning mist usually lingers over the water until midmorning, but it burned off early today. I won’t miss a moment of your drowning.” She raised a hand to signal her dogs.

  “Approach!” she cried, and they obeyed, creeping toward Winnie, their bodies tensed and in a crouch, teeth still bared so that spittle drooled from their mouths.

  Winnie tried to move away from the water. She wanted to put the dogs between her and the stream, but they n
ipped at her legs and forced her to back up against the water’s edge so that she was about to lose her balance and fall in.

  She had to fight.

  It was her only chance.

  Miss Allenby-Falk’s eyes were aglow with madness. “You’re as stupid as the Merridale sisters! Did they think I would never find you? That I wouldn’t recognize the missing daughter of—” She threw back her head and bellowed with laughter.

  Whose daughter am I? Tell me before I die!

  Miss Allenby-Falk suddenly stopped laughing. “I’ve changed my mind again. Now I want to see you bleed.” She waved her hand and cast Winnie a smile of pure evil as she called to her dogs. “Attack!”

  Oh, mercy!

  So many thoughts raced through Winnie’s mind in that instant. That she’d never see Captain Mariner again. That she’d never see her beloved godmothers and hadn’t said a proper goodbye to those dotty old darlings who had cared for her all of her life.

  Then she had no more time to think, for the dogs lunged at her and it took all her concentration to swing the fire iron with all her might and keep those beasts from tearing out her throat.

  Her thrusts and parries were frenzied, and she knew that if she kept swinging the fire iron at this pace her arms would quickly tire. She had no choice. Her life was in peril and no one was here to save her.

  Her screams were also frenzied, her terror strangling those cries so that they died on the wind before ever reaching the house.

  She had to save herself, but her plan wasn’t working too well. She lost her footing when one of the dogs lunged forward and managed to bite her finger, piercing her flesh with its needle-sharp teeth. She fell backwards into the stream.

  I can’t die!

  She tried to scream again, but no sound came out. When in abject fear, apparently one didn’t have the voice to cry out. Panic had a way of constricting the throat and rendering one mute.