“Oh, thank God, he’s not dead.”
Robert hesitated, holding his valet’s hand lightly. It was the first time that she could recall Robert looking indecisive. She fidgeted, looking at the hall over her shoulder. Suddenly, the stately building looked more than imposing; its shutters looked like gashes against the exterior as if torn by a knife. The doors were deep, black holes from which no one would return.
“It’s growing dark,” he finally said, standing. “We can take him into the house, but he may not see out the night.” He looked down at Parks. “He needs a doctor.” Then Robert looked at her. “Gwen, I think we need to take him to Renwick.”
“In the dark,” she said flatly. They both understood. Not only would there be no moon to steer by in the fog, but highwaymen would surely be laying in wait along the roads.
He stripped off his coat and layed it over Parks’ chest. “I’m going to retrieve my pistols,” he said. “Are you up to this? I can’t leave you here alone.”
“I’m with you, Robert,” she said decisively. “Hall or highway.”
“Good girl,” he said, taking her hand. “Is there a small case that you want to bring with you?” She nodded. “Then let’s go.”
Hand in hand they ran back to the hall. “The pistols are in the library,” he said. “Stay with me, then we’ll get your case and leave.”
But as they dashed into the library, they skidded to a sudden halt. The pistols were indeed there—in Christopher’s hands.
* * *
Gwen’s knees shook so hard that her skirts rustled. The only thing more shocking than seeing Christopher at Dredthorne was seeing Regina bound and gagged, kneeling at his feet.
“Regina,” Gwen breathed.
Thick rope bound her arms and legs, trussed up like an animal. Her auburn hair was wild and knotted, her mouth hidden by a thick gag. Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered, green eyes wide, staring at Gwen.
“Hello, brother,” Christopher said mildly. He gestured with one of the pistols to the sofa. “Do take a seat, both of you.”
Though Gwen took half a step toward Regina, Robert took her arm and firmly moved her toward the sofa.
“A wise course,” Christopher agreed, smiling pleasantly, as they sat down.
Gwen barely heard his words, not able to take her eyes off her sister. She was terribly thin and her eyes were swollen as if she’d cried for a month. Despite the guns pointed at her and Robert, a seething, blind anger began to rage inside her.
“So, brother, how do you fare?” Christopher said. “Evidently very well, considering all of the effort I’ve put into killing you. You are a remarkably hardy fellow.”
Gwen clenched her jaw and heard her teeth grind. So here was the true ghost of Dredthorne. Here was the source of all their fear and worry.
Christopher was a smaller and softer echo of his brother. Though he’d always impressed her as a handsome dandy, his brown mop of hair was tousled now, and dark stubble coated his jaw.
“Thank you, brother,” Robert replied, keeping his tone light. “You’ve played quite the game.”
Christopher tossed his head back and laughed. An image of him as that spirited young man she’d known all those years ago flashed into her mind. What had happened to him?
“Indeed,” Christopher said as his laughter trailed off. “I always was better at games, you know.” He suddenly sobered and cleared his throat. “Most games, at any rate.”
Gwen couldn’t take this idle chatter another moment. “Why do you want us to die, Christopher?” she said in a voice that shook with anger as much as fear.
Christopher snorted. “You? You’re merely a secondary casualty, Gwen,” he said flatly. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to stay, let alone fall in love with my discourteous brother. Though I must say it was rather amusing to hear you carry on about ghosts and journals and such. You have such a lively imagination.”
“Why?” was all Robert said, but the one word spoke much more. It seemed to reverberate in the air between them.
“Do try to understand, Robert,” his brother said, growing earnest for the first time. “You see, I’m in a rather large amount of debt.”
“This is for money?” Gwen demanded, her tone harsh. Robert squeezed her hand.
“No, you idiot,” Christopher spat at her. “He has to die so that I may inherit—everything.” He turned a cold and lethal look on his brother. “Robert, the serious. Robert, the responsible. Robert, the heir of the Sheraton estate.”
“You could have gone to father,” Robert told him. “He loved you. You could have come to me as well.”
Christopher laughed again, but this time Gwen heard a tinge of mania in it. “And now you’d be Robert, the charitable. Does it never end? Why must I beg for your indulgence?” He waved the pistols erratically and Gwen couldn’t help but flinch. “Because I had the great misfortune of being born the second son, that’s why.”
“Christopher,” Robert began, “you are still my brother. Whatever you need–”
Still gripping the pistol, Christopher turned the weapon to show him his hand. Gwen gasped. The smallest and ring finger were missing, down to the knuckle.
“It’s a bit late for my hand,” he declared. He looked from his brother to her and back again. “Oh, I see. You’ve never had a gambling debt.”
“Gambling?” Robert said.
“How I love my games,” Christopher said, without an ounce of mirth. “And how they love me.” For the first time, he glanced down at Regina. “I was on top of the world. I was going to give her everything.”
Regina looked at him, wide-eyed, and shook her head violently.
“Oh, shut up,” Christopher said absently. He turned his attention back to Robert. “So you see, dear brother, I shall take control of the Sheraton estate. There’ll be enough for my debts, and more besides, if I sell all of the family’s interests.” He gazed around the room. “Including this dreadful place.”
Gwen’s stomach clenched as she realized there was no reasoning with him. This was not the Christopher of their youth. This was some madman who held them at gunpoint. Robert must have realized it too.
“Let the women go,” he said calmly to his brother. “They’ve done nothing to deserve this.”
“Oh please,” Christopher sneered. “Robert, the chivalrous. Do you really think I’d trust two women not to tell a soul?” Then he grinned at his brother, his eyes shining. “But not to worry, dear brother, I shall wait until you are dead.”
“But you love Regina,” Gwen protested. “You were going to give her everything.”
Christopher shook his head, tsking. “Until she rejected me. Naturally I told my future bride everything. It would have been so much easier with her help.” He looked down at her as though he were deeply disappointed. “The poor thing was beside herself, really.”
A thought occurred to Gwen, and despite their dire circumstances, she had to know. “Regina has been here the entire time?”
“Of course,” Christopher said, matter-of-factly. “I could hardly let her run about the countryside.”
Gwen looked at Robert, his expression as grim as she felt. “The whimpering, the sobbing,” she said. “It wasn’t Miss Wilson. It was Regina that I was hearing.”
All those times she’d questioned her sanity, the strange things that the servants had heard—it had all been Christopher and her desperate sister. Though Gwen had thought the journals were helping her, they’d only fed her fears.
“And now it is time to end this,” Christopher said almost gayly. “Robert, do help Regina up.”
Chapter 16
Cautiously, Robert rose and slowly moved toward Regina. Although he looked down on the kneeling woman, he kept Christopher in his peripheral vision. If he could get a clear path to his brother, he might be able to tackle and subdue him long enough for Gwen to escape with her sister.
“I see how your mind turns, dear brother,” Christopher warned him, stepping behind Regina. H
e pointed a pistol at each of the women. “Do not mistake chivalry for stupidity.” He motioned with the pistol. “Up, up. Get her on her feet.”
Robert did as he was told, supporting Regina under one arm as he helped her to stand. Though she swayed, he managed to keep her on her feet. She was in a frightful state, and he could only imagine that the tenacity of the Archer women must be formidable to survive under these circumstances—for survive they would. If he had to give his life in order to prevail, he would do it.
“We are going on a trip, brother,” Christopher said. “Get up,” he snapped at Gwen.
As she slowly rose, she asked, “Where…where are we going?”
“It will be a short trip, just up the stairs.” He motioned with a jerk of his head. “We’re going to Robert’s bedchamber.” He leered at her. “I believe you know the way.”
With one hand still under Regina’s arm, Robert held out a hand to Gwen. “Come,” was all he said.
As they exited the library and mounted the first steps, he glanced over his shoulder. Though likely mad, his brother was not foolish, and made sure to stay well back.
“What can we do?” Gwen whispered.
“If I say to run,” he said under his breath, “grab your sister and–”
“Tut, tut,” Christopher said, and Robert heard him cock one of the pistols. “There’ll be none of that.”
They climbed the stairs slowly to allow for Regina’s stumbling, wobbly gait. Though Robert watched for his chance to attack his brother, while yet keeping the women safe, there was simply no opportunity. Christopher had been very clever to use two pistols to keep him at bay.
As they walked to the bedroom, Gwen sniffed the air. “What is that smell?”
Robert frowned. There was a familiar scent that he couldn’t place, growing stronger as they approached his bedchamber. Gwen clutched his hand. “What is that?” she said, louder this time.
But before Robert could answer, he heard Christopher running, but couldn’t turn in time. His brother shoved both pistols in his back and pushed with all his might. Gwen and Regina had no choice but to follow as Gwen clung to him and he supported her sister. Together they careened through the door, toppling onto the floor in a tangle.
Robert immediately tried to push himself up, but his hands pressed into the sopping rug and slipped. He could only watch as Christopher picked up a ready candle next to the door and tossed it on the floor between them.
“No escape this time, brother,” Christopher said, stepping quickly backward through the door, before locking it.
Flames leaped from the candle and raced unbelievably fast toward the three of them. Only then did Robert realize what his brother had done.
“Oil,” he grunted, as he stood on the slippery mess. “Hurry.”
Gwen was already trying to stand, but struggling to help Regina, who was still bound. As the blaze roared to life around them, Robert rushed to them, slipping and sliding. “Gwen,” he yelled, as he grabbed Regina’s arm, “it’s too slippery. You must crawl.” He pointed in the one direction that was clear of fire. “That way.”
Even as the heat and flames spread behind them, Robert dragged Regina after Gwen and finally off the burning rug. Smoke was beginning to fill the room. Without more air, they wouldn’t burn to death, they’d suffocate. But the rug—and the fire—stood between him and the window.
Though his boots still slipped on the floorboards, the more steps he took the better grip they had. He tried in vain to open the locked doorknob and then saw his solution.
“Gwen,” he yelled. “Cover Regina!”
He picked up the largest chair in the room, gave himself a quarter spin, and hurled it at the window. Gwen dove over Regina, covering her sister with her body.
With a deafening crash, the shattered pane of glass flew outward with the chair, smoke pouring out with it. Robert dashed to the desk, shoving it off the rug just before the fire reached it. Next came the table and chair as he pulled them off the rug to safety, though they were singed.
“You can’t save all the furniture!” Gwen yelled, as she tugged her sister further away from the growing conflagration.
He picked up the edge of the oil soaked rug and rolled it. “I’m not!”
Gwen must have realized his intention as she ran to his side and landed on her knees. Together they folded the burning textile over on itself, then over again.
“Stand back!” he said, as he picked up the rug, hauled it to the window, and shoved it over the edge of the sill.
Far below, he heard the rug land with a thump. In the sudden silence, he gasped for breath and heard Gwen cough. Regina only sobbed.
“Heavens,” Gwen said at last, “Regina.” She staggered to her feet. “Robert, do you still have your pen knife?”
In short order, Robert cut Regina’s bonds as Gwen untied the gag.
“Sister,” Regina cried, and fell into Gwen’s arms.
“Regina, are you all right?” Gwen sobbed. “I thought I would never see you again.”
Robert left the two women as they reunited and tried the door again. The knob was old but quite strong and the door itself thick. Short of a key, it wouldn’t be opening without a great deal of effort. He next went to the window and looked down. It was far too high to jump, nor were there any handholds that could be used to scale the face of the building. He gazed out into the fog. There had to be a way to get help.
“He forced me to write that awful letter to you,” Regina was saying, when he returned to them. She was using her gag to wipe her nose and eyes. “All this time I thought that at any moment he’d kill me. Oh, Gwen, it was horrible. I cried every night.”
“I heard you,” Gwen said quietly. Tenderly she hugged her sister and rubbed her back, but then she went still. She pulled back and looked at Robert. “What did I say?” She blinked. “I said I heard her!”
“The courtesan,” Robert said, stealing a glance to his dressing room. “The earring.”
In an instant, they’d both crossed to the small room. “It has to be here,” Gwen murmured.
“What does?” Regina asked from the bedchamber. Robert heard her struggle to her feet and come to the door.
“You,” Gwen said, even as Robert answered, “A secret door.”
Frantically, Gwen moved her fingers across the walls as he did the same. Robert knew from the one they’d found in the library that it wouldn’t be easy to find. “We must use a plan and go in order,” he said, “or we’re sure to miss it.”
“I don’t think it’s on this wall,” she said, seeming not to have heard him. She looked at the end of the small room where a cabinet for his clothes stood. “Robert, can you move that clothes press?”
With a great deal of effort, he managed to pull one corner of the heavy furniture away from the wall. Gwen slipped behind it and uttered a quick gasp. “It’s here.”
“Gwen, wait for me,” he called to her. “Let me go first. We don’t know where–” But he heard the telltale scrape of the revolving door. “Regina,” he said turning back to her. “Can you fetch the candle from next to the bed?”
When she returned with the lit candle, Robert took it from her. “Gwen, you may as well come out so I can go first, because I am not going to give this candle to you.”
As he and Regina exchanged a look, a chagrined Gwen finally emerged. “I was going to let you go first.” She went to her sister and held her around the shoulders.
Behind the clothes press, the passageway was the same height as the one they’d found in the library, and equally dark and dirty. But unlike that one, the dust appeared undisturbed.
“I don’t think anyone has been in here for some time,” Robert said, lifting the candle.
They’d only gone a few yards when the narrow corridor opened up into a small room. But when Robert saw what lay on the floor, he tried to keep the ladies back.
“No, Gwen,” he said and tried to block her view, but it was too late.
“Oh no,” she wh
ispered.
Robert nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
There on the floor was the body—or what used to be the body—of a small woman. Only bones and rotted cloth remained, but she had clearly been wearing a long dress and fine boots. Robert lowered the candle to the body and saw traces of red lace in the clothing. Around the bones of the neck, he saw the soft glow of a string of pearls. In fact, the more he looked, the more tiny glints of jewelry he could see.
“Robert, that earring,” Gwen said pointing. “I think it’s…”
He picked it up and handed it to her. It was the exact match of the one he’d dug out of the wall. “You were right.”
Regina put a shaking hand to her chest. “How can you two be so calm about this? Why are you picking jewelry off a corpse? It’s positively hideous.”
“I’m sorry, Regina,” Gwen said, going to her. “It’s just that we are finally meeting Miss Wilson, a courtesan and guest of the original owner of the hall, Mr. Thorne.”
“Who?” her sister asked, turning away from the gruesome sight.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Robert said to them. “We must find an escape so that we don’t meet a similar end.” Regina quickly nodded her agreement. “Good. Let us proceed then.”
Another few yards led them through one turn after another, until finally they reached another revolving door, even though the passageway continued on.
“Where are we?” Gwen whispered.
Robert shook his head and glanced at Regina who did the same. After the turns in the dark, there was no way to know where they were. He put his fingers to his mouth to signal silence and handed the candle to Gwen. Turning back to the door, he pushed at its edge and heard the customary scrape. A shaft of light from the opening spilled across the passage and Robert chanced a quick look. He recognized it immediately. It was Gwen’s room. He angled his gaze as far left and right as he could and listened for any sound. It seemed the room was empty. Finally he pushed the door open enough to squeeze through and checked in every direction. Silently he motioned for them to follow.
Mistress of Darkness: Dredthorne Hall Book 2 Page 11