Chapter 27
Arthur and Duncan rode to the tavern and dismounted, tucking their pistols into the back of their pants beneath their jackets so as not to draw attention to themselves. Neither of them was prone to frequent the establishment, and that fact alone would cause enough gossip. Before they had left the church, they had asked the Reverend for a description of Miles Deighton. Everything about the man’s description made him sound beyond average except for one thing. He was missing the pinky from his left hand.
As they entered the tavern, Arthur and Duncan scanned the crowd for a brown haired, brown eyed, man of average build, with a missing pinky finger. Reverend Summers had informed them that it had been shot off during the war and that Deighton carried it as a badge of honor rather than an infirmity. He would go to the tavern to just sit and watch the people.
They found their prey at the end of the bar in a shadowed corner. He was watching them. Arthur walked over with Duncan and the groom flanking either side of him. “Miles Deighton?”
The man nodded his head once, then continued to stare at them, his eyes giving nothing away. “Do you know who I am?” Arthur asked.
Again the man nodded. “Well then, you know why I have come,” Arthur stated. The man nodded once more. “Who hired you to kill me?”
The man stood up looked Arthur in the eye, spat on the floor at his feet, and walked out of the back door. Arthur and Duncan followed instructing the groom to go out the front and circle around. As Arthur exited the tavern, he heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. Reaching for his pistol, he whirled to face Deighton. “You will be dead on the ground before you can pull it,” Deighton informed him.
“Not before I shoot you, he won’t,” Duncan replied, coming out from behind the door pistol aimed straight at the man’s head. “Drop your weapon or I promise you, I will kill you where you stand.”
Deighton’s trigger finger twitched, but in the end, he obeyed and laid the gun down upon the ground. Arthur’s groom came up behind him and bound the man’s hands in front of him. “We have a great many questions for you Mr. Deighton, as I am sure will the magistrate.”
“Is this Mr. Miles Deighton?” Eliza’s voice asked from behind the groom as she and Miss Fielding walked around the side of the building followed by their armed guards.
“Eliza, I told you to return to Rosenhill,” Arthur chastised.
“Did you honestly believe I would obey such a request?” Eliza asked. “Or Miss Fielding for that matter?”
“Yes, I did,” Arthur replied frustrated with her lack of obedience.
“It is a weak man who cannot control his lady,” Deighton sneered.
Eliza stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the man before her. “You…”
“What is it, Eliza?” Duncan asked as Arthur moved to her side.
“That voice. It was you!” Eliza screamed launching herself at the man.
“Eliza!” Arthur cried out attempting to stop her, but she ripped the pistol from his hand and placed it against Deighton’s temple.
“It was you the night of the fire. You are the one who killed my parents,” Eliza screeched.
Miss Fielding attempted to ease Eliza’s feelings by placing her hand on Eliza’s shoulder, but she just shook it off. “Miss Bolton, you do not want to do this. If you kill this man, you will surely hang. Please, give me the gun and let the law execute Mr. Deighton for his crimes.”
Eliza could not listen, for the memory of that night was running through her mind as vividly as the day her parents died. She could hear the man’s voice telling his men to burn her house down after he had shot both her father, then her mother. Her hand shook as she remembered the burning heat of the flames upon her skin and the smell of her father’s burnt flesh.
Eliza bent over and emptied her stomach onto the grass. The man moved to take the pistol from her, but Duncan stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s head where Eliza’s had been. “Who hired you?” he demanded to know.
“Which time?” Deighton growled.
“Who hired you to kill the Duke?” Duncan clarified.
“Which Duke?” Deighton asked, chuckling at their ignorance. Everyone stood still for a moment and stared at the man. “Suppose it doesn’t matter since I was hired by the same man to kill both of them.”
“Who?” Duncan demanded, pressing the pistol deeper against his skull.
Arthur helped Eliza to her feet once she had stopped vomiting and eased her onto one of the barrels stacked outside of the tavern. He removed the pistol from her hand. Miss Fielding offered her a handkerchief to clean her face. “Go and get Miss Bolton something to drink,” Arthur instructed one of the grooms, then turned back to face Deighton.
“Who hired you?” he repeated the question, aiming the pistol at Deighton’s middle with deadly intent. “I would hate for you to hang alone.”
The man appeared to weigh his options before answering. “The Marquess of Denlington.”
Arthur’s heart stopped for the briefest of moments. “Ludlow Finch, the Marquess of Denlington, hired you to kill me?”
“And your father,” Deighton nodded his head, then stopped when Duncan pressed the pistol more firmly against his temple. “He wanted your mother and Rosenhill to himself. Neither was likely to happen with your father or yourself in the way, now were they?
“Mother,” Arthur’s thoughts went immediately to his mother and her friendship with the marquess. Did she know? Is she in danger? Arthur looked at Duncan.
“Return to Rosenhill and ensure your mother and the children are safe. Take Eliza with you. Miss Fielding and I will remain here and ensure that Mr. Deighton makes the magistrate’s acquaintance,” Duncan stated.
“Thank you, old friend,” Arthur replied and took Eliza by the hand.
They walked together past Deighton, mounted their horses, and rode away. Arthur looked over at Eliza. It was as if she were in a daze and not really there at all. Concerned she might fall from her horse, Arthur halted and lifted her from her saddle placing her in front him on his horse. He threw the reins of the bay mare to a groom and continued on toward Rosenhill.
When they arrived, Arthur led Eliza upstairs to her room and tucked her beneath the blankets of her bed. He instructed Mrs. Philips to stay with her until he returned. Arthur first looked in on the children to make sure they were well and found them playing contentedly with one of the servants. He moved on to his mother’s preferred drawing room but did not find her there. He continued on to her bedroom and raised his hand to knock but was brought up short by the sounds of a struggle within.
Concerned, Arthur pulled the pistol from his waistband and charged through the door. He was not prepared for the scene that met his eyes. He found his mother and Denlington naked upon the bed intertwined in one another’s arms. “Mother?” Arthur asked horrified at the scene before him. “What is going on here?” he demanded to know.
“Get out!” the Duchess demanded.
“I will not. I demand answers, and I demand them now,” Arthur stood firm as his mother scrambled to cover herself with the blankets upon the bed. Turning to Denlington, he demanded, “Why? Why kill my father and then try to kill me?”
“The answer is simple, my boy. I wanted your mother and the power of Rosenhill. You and your father were in the way,” the Marquess explained. “I tried to get you to join me, but you would not. Death was the only other alternative.”
Arthur took a step forward gesturing with the pistol for the Marquess to arise from the bed so that he might take him before the magistrate. “And now you will be the one to die for your crimes…”
Before Arthur could finish his statement, Denlington, seeing the pistol in Arthur’s hand, rolled from the bed grabbing his own pistol from atop the pile of clothes upon the floor and fired straight at Arthur’s head.
* * *
Eliza heard a gunshot and then another. Jolted out of her stupor she leapt from her bed and raced from the room. “Arthur?
! Arthur?!” No, please God, not Arthur. Do not make me lose another person I love. I beg of you, please. “Arthur?!”
Not receiving a response, she ran down the hall toward the dowager duchesses’ room. What she found when she entered stopped her in her tracks. “Arthur?” she whispered the question. She moved around the side of the bed to see a dead body on the floor and the Dowager Duchess sobbing over it.
“I am here,” Arthur replied coming over to stand beside her and taking her into his arms. “He missed me. I did not miss him.”
Relieved beyond measure, Eliza clung to the front of his shirt examining every line of his face as if to put it to memory. Arthur leaned down and kissed her softly pulling her against his side. The kiss was interrupted by the sound of a pistol being cocked. Eliza turned to find the Dowager Duchess pointing a pistol at her son’s middle. Arthur pushed Eliza behind him, and she wrapped her arms around him as if to keep him safe.
“You killed him,” the Duchess shrieked, as she clutched a blanket around her naked body. “You took the only man I have ever loved away from me.”
“Loved? How could you love such a villain as Denlington? He killed Father. He attempted to kill me multiple times. He fired the first shot. Had he not died here, he would have died at the end of a rope,” Arthur attempted to explain to his mother. “Why Denlington? How long has this been going on?”
“We have been lovers since the twins were born, but have loved each other our entire adult lives, and you have taken him from me! I will make you pay for what you have done! I should have thrown you out of the window the day you were born!” Her eyes were wild with grief.
“Killing me will not bring him back, Mother.”
“No, but it will make me feel better,” she sobbed.
“Then you will hang,” Arthur reminded her.
“At least if I am dead, I will be with my love again,” she retorted angrily. Eliza watched as realization dawned on the Duchess’ face. “But there is no need to wait for a hanging,” the Duchess spoke softly as if in a dream. Looking up at Arthur, a brief moment of tenderness crossed her face, then it was gone as she placed the pistol against her head and pulled the trigger.
“No!” Arthur cried out leaping forward, but he was too late. His mother lay dead upon the floor, her head upon her lover’s chest. The room filled with servants as they came running in response to the gunshots. The children emerged from the forest of legs and grabbed hold of Arthur’s pant legs.
“Mother?” Charlotte whimpered. Eliza, upon hearing Charlotte’s voice, came to her senses and gathered the children to her like a mother hen shielding them from the sight.
“Come children. You should not be here,” Eliza herded them from the room. Once they were safely tucked away in the nursery, Eliza took each of them upon her lap. “I know what you saw just now was terrible, but I want you to remember something. Are you listening? This is very important.” The children nodded their heads wiping the tears from their cheeks. “Your mother has gone to be with the angels. She was not very happy here on earth, and she has chosen to go to a place where she will finally be at peace. She is with the man that she loved.”
“She wasn’t a very good or nice mother, but she didn’t deserve to die,” Gabriel stated sniffling.
“No, she didn’t, but it was her choice to make,” Eliza tried to explain the senseless act of their mother’s suicide.
That night, Eliza slept with the children in the nursery. Arthur came in and held them all for a time, then left to deal with the magistrate and undertaker. Days of quiet sorrow passed, and an even more peaceful sense of relief. The threat to Arthur and the children’s lives was gone. With time, the shadow of the Dowager Duchess lifted from Rosenhill, and Arthur and the children learned to smile again. Eliza, too, received closure when Miles Deighton was found guilty of murder and executed in London.
Miss Fielding returned to London for the execution and wrote Eliza upon its completion. That night, Arthur held Eliza in his arms as they sat in front of the library fireplace. They held hands, their fingers laced together so that they could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. The children were asleep on the settee across from them, exhausted after their excursion to the farm to see the animals just as they had on Eliza’s first day at Rosenhill.
“They haven’t experienced any form of night terrors or exhibited any signs of distress since that day,” Eliza spoke softly so as not to wake them. “How is that possible?”
“You covered them before they really saw anything. Besides, it is hard to grieve for a mother who did not love you. She never showed a single moment of affection for either of them their entire lives. She was absent most of the time, and when she was not, she made them miserable. They do not miss her or grieve for her because there was nothing to grieve the loss of,” Arthur explained. “They have us, and to them, that is enough. In their eyes, it is how it should be.”
“I feared for them so,” Eliza admitted. “I did not wish for them to experience what I experienced.”
“You had parents that loved you. We did not. It is not the same.” Arthur replied kissing the top of her head. “But that is something I would like to change.”
Arthur stood up from the settee pulling Eliza up with him. He knelt down before her, taking her hand in his own and kissing it sweetly. “Eliza Bolton, we have been through so much together, more than most. I would not be alive today were it not for your bravery and compassion. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. You have brought light to Rosenhill and to my life where once there was only darkness. I cannot imagine living my life without you nor do I wish to try. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
“Oh Arthur,” Eliza gasped as tears filled her eyes. “Yes! Oh, Yes!” she exclaimed as she knelt down beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“My lady,” he whispered as he kissed her lips with such hunger the world began to spin around her. Lost in a fog of passion and joy, Eliza returned his kiss with equal fervor. “My lady,” Arthur whispered again kissing her neck. “My Duchess.”
Eliza threaded her fingers through his hair and tilted her head back to allow him access to the column of her throat. She sighed in ecstasy as he kissed the hollow there, then moved back up to take her lips once more. Her heart sang as her mind whispered back, My knight in shining armor. My King Arthur.
Epilogue
One Month Later
Arthur stood beside Duncan at the front of the church next to Reverend Summers as they awaited the emergence of the bride. The voice of young Oliver Cole could be heard above the murmur as he stood up on his seat and asked for his sister. “Where’s ‘Liza? Isn’t she supposed to be here? Doesn’t she want to marry the Duke or did she change her mind? She could come back and take care of me instead. I wouldn’t mind.”
A ripple of laughter floated around the room. Mrs. Cole attempted to settle her youngest son back down onto the church pew. “Shh,” she urged.
Arthur and Duncan grinned at the boy’s antics. “I quite like that boy,” Duncan chuckled.
Arthur nodded. “As do I. I have been considering inviting the Cole family to come and stay with us at Rosenhill, but I am not sure that a proud, independent man such as John Cole would be willing to give up his family home.”
“Probably not, but it does no harm to ask,” Duncan replied, smiling. “Just imagine young Oliver and the girls running about playing with the twins. It would give you all a chance at a loving family. Something you never had before.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Arthur murmured as he smiled at Gabriel standing next to him looking quite handsome and important in his new suit of clothes. He had even asked to shave with Arthur’s razor before they had left for the church. Arthur, of course, had refused for fear he would cut himself, but that did not deter his little brother. Arthur chuckled at the memory of both their faces in the mirror above the washstand as Gabriel had used a butter knife from the kitchen to shave his imaginary whiskers.
&nb
sp; When the first bridesmaid entered the church, all faces turned to the door. Charlotte was lovely in a pale blue frock that set off her eyes. Next came Mary, Jane, and Anne, all quite pretty in yellow, green, and pink. Arthur smiled with amusement when he heard Duncan clear his throat and caught him shuffling nervously as Miss Fielding came down the aisle in a lovely lavender gown. “Do I detect another wedding in the near future?” Arthur asked him in jest.
“Unless you want to spend your wedding night nursing a black eye, I suggest you pay attention to your own wedding,” Duncan grumbled.
Arthur chuckled, but his amusement was cut short at the sight of his radiant bride as she glided down the aisle in a glowing gown of cream and gold. It were as if all the light in the room radiated from her very soul. Arthur swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Eliza came to stand at his side. “Your Grace,” she greeted with an amused smile, curtseying.
The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 27