by Linn Chapel
Without speaking, he turned and strode to the entrance of the chamber, gesturing for her to precede him along the dim passageway.
Moments later they emerged from the Grotto’s dark, subterranean atmosphere and were standing once again amid the sweeps of blossoming azaleas and rhododendrons. At their feet, the blue waters of the lake stretched off to the graceful trees and distant blossoms on the far shore.
Holt looked down at her speculatively, his face tight with tension.
Tressa finally broke the strange silence that had fallen. “Holt, what’s wrong?”
Thirty-four
He gave her a faint smile. “Are you tempted to use your psychic ability to find out?”
She dredged up a small laugh. “Believe me, I’m often tempted to use it on you, but I know how much you’d resent that. Holt, why are you so worried? You haven’t touched me even once this morning. Have you been trying to tell me something?”
Holt’s jaw suddenly firmed and his gaze ran searchingly over her face. His eyes seemed darker and more unfathomable than ever.
Tressa swallowed, dreading what he might tell her next. “Maybe – maybe you just don’t feel as serious as I do.”
Holt’s eyebrows rose and his breath escaped him in a whoosh. “Serious,” he repeated in a hollow whisper.
“It’s a modern term.” Her voice wobbled unevenly. “It means – it means...”
“I can guess perfectly well what it must mean!” he snapped irritably. His eyes darkened even more. “Tressa,” he went on, speaking slowly and enunciating his words with care, “There’s a reason why I’ve been trying all morning to make amends for my moods and my boorish behavior.” He dug his hand into a pocket. “It was so that you’d accept this.”
She stared at the glittering ring Holt was holding up between his fingers.
The center stone was a dazzling sapphire, so blue that all the waters of the lake seemed to have been pooled within its crystalline depths. Around it, tiny diamonds glittered as brightly as the sunlight that sparkled on the waters nearby.
“Most of the family jewels were sold long ago, but I was able to hide a few things. This is one of my most treasured heirlooms,” he explained softly. “I hoped it would serve as an engagement ring. Tressa, you must have some inkling of how much I love you,” he said softly, caressing her face with his gaze. “But I know that I’m difficult to bear, even as a human. Marry me anyway,” he urged. “I promise that I’ll be as good a husband – as – as I possibly can be.”
Her eyes widened. “But Holt, I thought.... When you didn’t say a word about the way I always cause you so much trouble,” she began in a halting voice.
Holt leaned down and cut off the rest of her sentence with a kiss. “I plan to keep you out of trouble from now on. At least, from the kind of trouble that places you in mortal danger.” He drew her closer with his free hand. “You know that I don’t mind the rest,” he whispered into her ear.
“But the daydreaming, Holt. I’m not sure I can stop it.” She was having trouble speaking clearly, for he had just kissed a very sensitive spot under her ear.
Holt raised his head and murmured, “No, you won’t be able to stop such visions. And why should you?” His eyes shone down at her.
She gazed back up at him, smiling softly. She glanced at the heirloom ring he was still holding and said laughingly, “Holt, you’d better put that on my finger before you drop it in the lake.”
“But you haven’t told me that you love me. Do you?”
“Yes. Oh, yes!” she whispered. “You know that I love you!”
He breathed in deeply. “Ah, the words, Tressa – the words are important. I very much like the way it sounds when you say it. And shall we be wed?”
“Yes, Holt.”
The heirloom ring fit nicely on her finger when he slipped it on. Both of his arms went tightly around her, but then he stilled, listening.
Soon Tressa could hear voices, too. Glancing along the shoreline, she spotted a group of visitors heading their way.
Holt took her by the hand and led her away from the shore. Together they threaded their way through the leafy undergrowth until they were out of sight from passersby. They came to a stop under the spreading branches of an ancient oak.
Nearby, a patch of violets bloomed in a carpet of soft grass. To her surprise, Holt swung her up into his arms and carried her to the spot. He laid her down on the flower-strewn grass and joined her.
Laughing, she asked, “Do poets always carry their ladies to a bed of flowers when they want to be alone with them?”
Holt’s eyes glowed. “Invariably,” he murmured just before he sought her mouth in a burning kiss.
Their enchanted time together was all too short. On their way back to the car, they paused for a few moments by the shore of the lake where Holt stood behind Tressa with his arms wrapped possessively about her waist.
Together they gazed across the water to the far shore, where the small Roman Pantheon stood surrounded by a curve of trees and azaleas. A few puffy clouds drifted overhead and their reflections gleamed white on the still blue waters.
Soon Holt brought out his pocket watch to check the time, murmuring that they’d been away from Langley for too long. The little scene engraved on the silver case made Tressa’s eyes widen in wonder. She’d seen it before, but now it took on an added significance, for it depicted a tiny man and woman standing together in the gently rolling English countryside.
“That looks just like us,” she said with a smile.
Holt laughed in surprise. “And here’s the lake,” he cried out softly as he opened the cover. Once again, Tressa saw the painted dial with its miniature lake scene, complete with blue sky and white clouds. “A very strange coincidence,” he mused. “Perhaps if I cast it into verse, I will come to understand it.”
The return journey passed without any signs of surveillance. As they arrived back at the Langley estate, Holt swung the car onto the little lane that ran under the ancient oaks, and once again Tressa felt as if they were passing through a tunnel of dappled green light.
Langley possessed just as much of a dreamlike atmosphere as the Stourhead estate with its lake and temples, she decided. And Langley had an added charm, for it was a real place of residence, not a restoration and tourist attraction. It also had an owner who kept a wealth of historic information within his living memory.
“Holt, do you still hate the changes that have come over England since you were turned? I know that you moved away because of that.”
Holt pondered her question as he drove on. “No, my native land seems much more tolerable to me now,” he said. “You have such a fondness for England that I have seen it with new eyes despite all the changes, and here in the countryside, my quarrel with modern times has not been so distracting.”
“Then we’ll make our home at Langley, once we’re married.”
Holt drew in a startled breath as he drove. “At Langley? Tressa, are you certain you could move to England?”
“I like it here at Langley, and I know how you feel about your land.”
Holt brought the estate car to a sudden stop in the middle of the lane. Pulling her close, he kissed her soundly. “You will make an enchanting Lady Langley,” he said. “The manor house shall finally be restored, if you wish. The gardens, too,” he added.
Tressa smiled up at him. “And will the library be full of books again?”
“Yes, my lady,” he said dutifully, driving on down the lane. “All the shelves will be filled.”
“You’ll need to repair any damage you did to the first edition of Shelley’s poems,” she added.
Holt frowned as he drove on. “I shall ask Wesley to make any necessary repairs,” he muttered, “even though he’s bound to treat me to a terrible scolding. I vow I shall never lose my temper again in such an abominable fashion, Tressa.”
As they drove onward, Tressa wondered if Holt could keep such a vow. She decided that he probably couldn’t.
But the prospect troubled her very little, for she had come to realize that much of his moodiness came from the frustrations he felt as he strove to protect his way of life – and herself.
“Holt, I was wondering…”
“About what, my love?” he murmured as he drove.
“Do you think we could restore the old lake at Langley?” she asked.
“Would you like that?” Holt sounded pleased by the idea himself. “We could begin by damming the brook that empties the marsh.”
“That sounds expensive,” she said, having second thoughts. “Hiring workmen and landscapers would cost a fortune.”
They had reached Arbor Cottage by that time and Holt pulled the car into its spot in front of the old white barn. Switching off the engine, he said, “There’s no need to fret about funds, Tressa. I’ve already decided to sell a parcel of land. There will be plenty of money from its sale.”
“What? Sell some of the estate?” cried Tressa in surprise. “But Holt – that doesn’t sound like you!”
“I made up my mind earlier this morning when I returned to the cottage in the northern field. I wanted to make sure that no traces were left.”
Tressa drew in a quick breath. “Were there?”
“No, there was nothing but a large mound of ashes in the hearth.”
Tressa felt a tremor pass through her as she remembered the flares of light that had blazed in the cottage windows.
Holt went on. “The cottage and the land about it feel cursed to me. I’m going to bring Hugh into my confidence, and together we shall burn the cottage to the ground. Then I’ll sell that parcel to a neighboring farmer.”
She looked at him. “You’re right. It’s probably for the best, Holt.”
They both stepped from the car then, and as they walked together past the lilac bushes to the cottage door, Holt added, “The rest of the estate will remain untouched, never to be sold. You’ll like it here, Tressa, I’m sure of it. The land and all of the dwellings are thick with layer upon layer of history. Perhaps you will even find what it is that you’ve been searching for all these years.”
Tressa stopped walking. “Holt, I’ve already found it.”
“Have you?” he asked, turning to her in surprise.
“I realized it a little while ago, just as we were starting our drive back to Langley. It didn’t turn out to be some lost tradition, or an artifact, either,” she said softly. “It’s a person. Somehow I must have known that I was supposed to find you.”
Holt gazed down at her in wonderment. “Could it be?” He touched her cheek softly. “Yes, with you, such a thing could be possible.” Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her lingeringly before they entered the cottage.
Later that day, sunset was sending a golden glow through the windows of Arbor Cottage as Tressa entered the living room with Holt at her side.
She glanced around the room as they came to sit near the hearth. Peter, Luke and Albert had just returned from their trip to Bath, and by the disgruntled looks on their faces, they’d failed to find any more clues about the Operation’s activities. But the smell of fresh bread was drifting through the kitchen door and she knew that another one of Hugh’s delicious, homecooked meals would soon lift their spirits.
When Holt quietly detached himself from the group, Tressa wondered where he was going. He returned ten minutes later with Wesley, who was yawning and shaking himself awake now that night was approaching.
Next, she watched Holt disappear into the kitchen, still puzzled by his various activities. He returned a few minutes later, bearing a silver tray full of wineglasses. He handed her a glass and she smiled in sudden comprehension. Then he went about the room, handing glasses to all of the others. When he returned to Tressa’s side, he gave her a wink.
As Peter took his first sip, his eyes opened wide. Retrieving the empty bottle from a side table, he read the label. “This is a very old vintage!” he exclaimed.
“I’ve kept some bottles of wine stored away out of sight all these years,” explained Holt.
“This would fetch a huge sum of money, these days,” said Peter. “You should have saved it for a special occasion.”
“But this is a special occasion.”
Peter’s gaze left the bottle and flew over to Holt and Tressa. “The two of you are getting hitched!”
Holt meet Peter’s look with a steady one of his own. “Yes, I’m fortunate beyond anything I deserve and Tressa has agreed to become my wife. But you’re smiling, Peter. I thought you might object.”
Peter shook his head, grinning. “I’m not sure when it happened, but I changed my mind. It seems to me that you’re perfect for each other.” He came up to clap Holt on the shoulder and then he enfolded Tressa in a hug.
All at once, everyone was talking and laughing. Wesley clasped Holt’s hand in both of his and turned to give Tressa a fond smile. His eyes were watery with tears of happiness at his old friend’s good fortune. When Albert and Luke added their congratulations, the din became so loud that Hugh came rushing into the room in alarm. He soon realized what had happened and gripped Holt’s hand as well, pumping it with gusto before returning to the kitchen.
“A toast!” Luke lifted his glass high.
“No objections from you, either?” Holt asked.
“No objections,” Luke said. He gave Holt a candid look. “To be perfectly honest, Holt, I used to worry that you’d snap me in two if I did anything you didn’t like, but now that I know you better, I can see that you’re more civilized than that. Nowadays I feel as comfortable with you as I am with Tressa. Spending time with you is just like wearing an old pair of shoes, if you know what I mean.” His gaze meandered downward to Holt’s spotless black boots. He frowned a little doubtfully to himself.
A mischievous mood suddenly came over Tressa. Walking up to Luke, she hooked an imperious finger in the neckline of his t-shirt. “You won’t feel comfortable around me for much longer, Luke. No more old shoes. Soon it’ll be ‘yes, my lady’ and ‘no, my lady’ and ‘whatever you want, my lady’. And the same goes for you,” she added, turning to Peter. She cuffed him lightly on the chin. “If you get out of line, Peter, I’ll have you shoveling dung from the stables.”
Luke snorted. “Pretend all you want, Tressa, but there’s absolutely no chance you’re going to be Lady Langley,” he scoffed. “Holt’s over two hundred years old. He can’t be the present Lord Langley.”
“Can’t he?” she said with a sidelong look at Holt.
Groaning, Holt ran a hand through his hair. When the inevitable questions came, he reluctantly explained the kind of subterfuge he had undertaken over the years for the benefit of the Langley estate. “Just keep my story to yourselves,” he added when he was done.
“I should have guessed!” said Luke, who was visibly upset with himself. “You had too much clout around Langley to be anybody else.”
Holt’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. “I may be Lord Langley but my influence extends no further than the estate. Your managers and their hirelings – and any vampire experiments they’ve made – still stand between us and our freedom.” With a glance at Tressa, he added, “And any future happiness we hope to enjoy.”
The giddy warmth that had filled Tressa’s heart suddenly ebbed, leaving her chilled and anxious. Holt was right. There’d be no wedding at all unless they found a way out of their current predicament. If they didn’t, a nightmare existence of drugged submission could be in store for Holt. As for herself and her two brothers, they were all slated to die if they were caught. The most that she could hope for then would be a speedy death, and one in which Holt played no part.
The others were exchanging uneasy glances. The atmosphere in the room had changed, becoming tenser.
Luke said firmly, “There’s always the federal channel. If we can just stay out of sight for long enough, we’ll finally have help from that quarter.”
Tressa glanced over at Holt. He had finished his wine and now he was staring b
roodingly at his empty glass as if it held the secret to Ted and Margot’s next move. “I shall be watching over the borders of the estate with more care than ever,” he said.
The door to the kitchen swung open and Hugh stepped into the room. After glancing worriedly at their somber faces, he announced that dinner was ready.
That evening, Tressa set up the various items she would need to administer a dose of half-Mysterium blood in her bedchamber at Cup Cottage. Her blood donor was at his ease, but the recipient was looking very anxious.
“Are you alright, Wesley?” she asked gently.
“Yes, my dear. It’s only that I’ve placed all my hopes in this transformation,” Wesley confessed with a quaver in his voice. “When will I feel the first changes?”
“Probably in a few days. A week at most,” she said with an encouraging smile.
Peter sat on the edge of the bed and she drew some blood from his arm, using the syringe he had purchased in Bath for that purpose. Nearby, Wesley fidgeted uncomfortably.
“When was the last time you fed?” she murmured over her shoulder.
“Two nights ago I drank the contents of a pouch,” he replied a bit unsteadily. “I feel no hunger now, but even so, the smell...”
Wesley had prepared his own arm by rolling up the sleeve of his tailored linen shirt. She gave him the injection quickly so that he wouldn’t be distressed by the smell of blood any longer than necessary. Stepping away, she quickly wrapped the used syringe in its packaging and disposed of it.
“Thank you, my friends.” Wesley was calmer, now. His old, sunken eyes were bright and unblinking in his pale-skinned face.
Downstairs, Tressa discovered that an easy camaraderie had grown up between Holt and Albert while they had been waiting for the deed to be done. They had even made plans to act as mentors for Wesley throughout his transition.
“Tressa, I hope you have something good for him to eat when he’s ready,” said Albert. “That’s all I could think about after I made the change: how to find some good Chinese food. After that, I started to think about finding a girlfriend!”