“You’re not my father,” she insisted.
“Come to me, Adelaide,” but it wasn’t her father’s voice any longer. It was that twisted and insidious whisper from the moor. It slithered over her a skin and left a chill in its wake that was far colder even than the icy water of her dream.
“Adelaide, let me help you.”
It wasn’t her father now. It was Eldren. She wanted to go to him, to follow the sound of that voice but she had no trust in it. Was he really there to help her or was he simply another bit of trickery by whatever evil tormented her? She didn’t know and so she clung to that rigging, her fingers twisting in it until they ached from the strain. But in her dream, the ship didn’t come to rest on the rocky shelf just beneath the surface. Instead, the ship continued to sink lower and lower until the water closed over her entirely, swamping her as she fought and struggled for air.
At last, Adelaide awoke. Sitting bolt upright in bed with a scream trapped in her throat, her hands were tangled in the bedding in such a way that the sheets had left marks upon her skin. Tremors wracked her as she struggled to separate the fiction of her nightmare from the actual events that had occurred and from the strange happenings at what was to be her new home.
It was Saturday morning, the day of her wedding, and the bright light filtering in through the windows dispelled any shadows in the room. The chairs before the fireplace were still askew. He had kept his word and sat with her through the night. She’d been briefly aware of his departure with the dawn.
Adelaide covered her face with her hands and tried to dispel the disturbing images from the nightmare, images that had woven the past and present into some strange fiction. The dream had felt different, for lack of a better word. Somehow she felt violated by it, as if whatever lurked there at Cysgod Lys had somehow invaded her mind and twisted her memories to serve its own nefarious purposes.
The previous day had been the only uneventful one that she had experienced since her arrival at Cysgod Lys. She had worked on sewing in the morning room again, strolled the grounds, been given a tour of the house by Tromley, and then she and Eldren had dined together again. Nothing untoward had happened, no inexplicable shadows or whispers. That inactivity had made her even more wary.
And Eldren, after their dinner, had escorted her to her chamber, allowed her to change and then returned. Once more to spend an uncomfortable night in the chairs before the fireplace. She was all bravado until it came time to be alone in her darkened chamber within the cursed walls of Cysgod Lys. The house was a menace.
Cursing it and her stepmother once more, Adelaide rose and crossed to the washstand. A glance in the mirror there showed the truth of her restless sleep. She had great, dark circles beneath her eyes and they were puffy from her hours of tossing and turning. It was her wedding day and she looked terrible, haggard and far older than her years. Is this what the house had done to her?
But in truth, she’d paid little attention to her appearance in recent weeks. Perhaps the sinking of the Mohegan had taken more of a toll than she realized. It was impossible to say beyond acknowledging that her recent struggles showed upon her face.
The door opened and Dyllis slipped quietly inside, obviously thinking that Adelaide would still be abed. When the girl saw her standing there, she let out a startled squeak. “Oh, miss! You frightened me half to death!”
“I awoke early, Dyllis. I’m sorry for startling you.”
The maid took the ivory dress that Adelaide had requested to wear for the ceremony and draped it over the foot of the bed. “Do you want breakfast now, miss, or should I bring it up later?”
“No breakfast,” Adelaide replied. She didn’t think she could eat a bite of it regardless. “Just tea I think.”
“Perhaps a piece of toast at least, miss? It wouldn’t do for you to faint dead away on your wedding day.” The slight admonishment was a reminder of her first evening at Cysgod Lys and implied in the comment.
Could there be a more appropriate time to faint, Adelaide wondered? But recognizing the wisdom of eat least having a bite of something, she nodded her agreement. “That’ll be fine, Dyllis. Thank you for being the voice of reason once more.”
Dyllis nodded and left quickly. Adelaide seated herself at the small dressing table and began freeing the heavy braid of her hair. When it was done, she brushed the thick, dark mass of it until it shone. Her hair had often been remarked upon as being her best feature. The truth of it was that it was her only striking feature. Everything else about her, while pleasant enough, was terribly ordinary. But her hair was long and thick, with a hint of curl. It was admired by many and even envied by a few. It was also her one vanity. Of course it wasn’t only vanity that prompted her to begin the lengthy process without her maid. They did have a schedule to keep to. At least when Dyllis returned, part of the task would be complete.
She was nervous, but not for the reason most brides were. Eldren had insisted that theirs would not be a real marriage. She did not have to fear the marriage bed and all that was to take place within it. Her life, for better or worse, would continue as it always had except instead of answering to her father she would answer to a man who would be her husband in name only. A chaste and lonely existence awaited her. A childless one. There would be no family for her to replace the one that she had lost. But would she want to bring a child to Cysgod Lys? To force them to endure the terrifying presence that had made itself known to her already? No. She would not. Her conscience would not permit it.
Dyllis returned then, bearing a tray laden with a teapot and a small plate filled with toast and little pots of jam and butter. Forcing herself to choke down at least one piece of the bread, Adelaide washed it down with the hot tea and then they resumed her morning ablutions. Her hair had been dressed, pinned atop her head in a loose chignon with tendrils of it coaxed to curl about her face, the style was becoming enough to almost counteract the heavy bags beneath her eyes.
If she thought Dyllis a bit too enthusiastic in the lacing of her corset, Adelaide didn’t comment on it. Petticoat, shift, corset and bustle all donned, she allowed the maid to help her into the simple ivory blouse with its froth of lace at the throat. The skirt followed and then the fitted jacket with its large puffed sleeves that tapered into narrow points at her wrists. The heavy embroidery at the collar and cuffs mirrored the ornate pattern embroidered on the overskirt and a bit of lace had been ruched beneath it. It was not exactly a bridal gown, but it would do very nicely.
A hat followed, perched atop the mass of her hair so that it tipped slightly forward over one eye at a rakish angle. Even in her finery, she did not look like a bride. There was none of the hopeful excitement about her that was the hallmark of a woman on her wedding day. Instead, she looked tense and drawn, like a criminal awaiting their sentence.
The ring Eldren had presented to her winked upon her finger. It felt heavy and even a bit uncomfortable but that was likely a product of her awareness of it.
“I believe his lordship is awaiting you below stairs, miss. They still do things the old ways about here and the wedding must happen before noon. It’ll take an hour or better to get to Wrexham by train because it makes so many stopes betwixt here and there,” Dyllis said. “Are you alright, miss?”
“Yes, Dyllis. I’m quite fine. Everything will be fine,” Adelaide said, assuring herself of it as much as the maid.
It was clear from the maid’s expression that she was as skeptical of that as Adelaide herself was. Neither of them believed it. As if to punctuate that moment of doubt, a shrill scream erupted from somewhere within the house. It appeared that Eldren’s mother had awakened from whatever medicated stupor she had been in.
* * *
Eldren heard the shriek and bit out a curse. Beside him, Warren tensed. Their mother was in the throws of another of her fits. It seemed they always came in spurts. Months could pass with nothing happening and then suddenly she would go for days and days shrieking, screaming, hurling things at the servants. S
he’d very nearly killed one of the maids only months back and in that same stretch, had broken her nurse’s arm. They had not restrained her to that point, but it had become apparent afterward that she was too much of a risk to herself and to others.
Taking in Warren’s expression and the misery that he projected, Eldren sighed. It was harder on his brother than him somehow. Perhaps it was because there had always been love between Warren and their mother. Eldren she had only ever tolerated while she had, at least in their earlier childhood, doted on the rest of them.
“I’m going to send her to a hospital in London,” Eldren offered.
“An asylum, you mean? A place to lock her away and never see or hear from her again?”
“This was your idea! You suggested it," Eldren protested.
Warren sighed. "I know, but I make decisions and change my mind almost instantly. What can they do for her there that we cannot do for her here? What if it's some hellish place that only makes her worse?"
"No, that will not happen," Eldren denied. "I visited this facility months back and I've wrestled with this decision since that time. She is getting worse here and not better. I believe they can help her there!"
“Madness gets worse, Eldren. That’s rather the point of it, isn’t it? People in her condition do not get better!”
“No. But if she can be more calm, if she can experience fewer outbursts and rages, isn’t it worth the risk?”
“Risk of what?” Warren demanded. “Hospitalization? But we’re talking about something else altogether now. Aren’t we, brother?”
Eldren hesitated. He’d considered carefully and for many months. But he was no closer to a decision than he had been before. “There is a procedure that might help her.”
“Scramble her brain about more like!” Warren snapped. “Do you think I haven’t looked into it? I know what a lobotomy does, Eldren. What it is! It’s barbaric and despite her treatment of you, I cannot imagine you would be so cruel.”
“It’s a last resort, Warren,” Eldren insisted. “There are other treatments that will be tried first. And nothing will be done that might harm her without first getting our approval. It’s simply an option under consideration at the moment.”
Warren’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you doing this now? Is it Miss Hampton Parke?”
“Indirectly, yes,” Eldren answered. “Mother knows she’s here. She doesn’t know who she is, but she’s aware of her presence and has made several statements to the nurse about what she means to do to her.”
“She’s locked away!”
“And gets out frequently! I don’t know if it’s the servants or if it’s something else—.”
“The Llewellyn curse? Do you think the ghosts are hopping in from the moor long enough to let her loose?” Warren said with a laugh.
“Don’t do that, Warren. Don’t make light of what exists in this house. Not when we both know what it’s capable of.”
Abashed, Warren held up his hands in supplication. “Fine. I concede that there are forces here we cannot control or understand… but dammit, Eldren, she’s our mother. We cannot do this to her!”
“And if there is another way, then we will not… If you wanted to be certain, you could look into the matter while I’m away.”
“What? Your servants are remarkably well trained, brother, and loyal to you as they can be. There is not gossip to overhear, so I cannot imagine how you think I would learn anything!”
Eldren cursed under his breath. “I don’t know how. But I do know that you are resourceful. And I know that if she were to find Adelaide alone in this house, the consequences would be disastrous for all of us. Not just the fate of that poor girl, which is bad enough, but the scandal that would rain down upon us for it. We have no other choice, Warren, but to consider this is a viable option. I wish that it were different. Truly.”
“When are you leaving for London?”
“We’ll travel to Chester for the afternoon and on to London tomorrow.I had thought to make the entire journey today, but I think it might be too much. Adelaide is still recovering, after all.”
Warren shrugged. “It will be good to spend a night elsewhere. Heaven knows there is no peace to be had here… I will bring mother to London myself. It will be a less difficult journey if you are not a party to it. We both know that.”
It stung, but it was certainly the truth. “Then Adelaide and I shall go on ahead after the ceremony and will see you there in a few days. You’re certain that you’re up to the task?”
Warren nodded. “You think I’m a slave to the liquor… but the truth is, my reasons for craving drink vanish along with my wife. I doubt I’m the only man who has ever felt thusly. May this girl you marry prove to be less of a millstone about your neck than my own bride did.”
Eldren didn’t reply. The door to the library had opened silently and Adelaide stood there in her wedding finery. It was the first time he’d seen her in something that was not unrelieved black. The pale ivory of her dress was a perfect foil for her dark hair and it seemed to have brought the roses back to her cheeks. For the first time since she’d arrived at Cysgod Lys, she appeared healthy and, if not happy, at least whole.
“Good morning, Adelaide,” he said, hoping that she had not overheard too much of what Warren had said. “If you are ready, we will take the carriage into Machynlleth. From there, the train to Wrexham and after the ceremony, on to Chester for the night and London tomorrow.”
“Yes. There is much to do and we should start as early as possible.”
Eldren noted her posture. She looked rather like someone prepared for battle. He supposed in some ways that she was.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The church had been hushed, the service rushed through very quickly. Documents were signed and names were recorded in the church’s register. It was all over within minutes. Subdued well wishes were received from the minister, from Warren, and from Eldren’s solicitor, then they were bustled to the train station. The noise of it, with the steel wheels screeching on the tracks and whistles blowing loudly to announce arrivals and departures, was jarring.
Her entire life had been altered in the span of minutes, and yet the entire world continued to move as if nothing of importance had occurred. Adelaide clasped her hands in front of her and tried to summon some sort of feeling about it all, but nothing was there.
“Wait here and I’ll procure tickets for us,” Eldren said.
Adelaide watched the travelers going to and fro. There were sad partings and happy reunions all around. Above all, there was an intensity of emotion that pervaded the very air of the place and made her all too aware of her own numbness. She had just been married, after all. Yet, there was no joy, not even any nervousness or doubt. She was completely and utterly numb to all of it. Turning away from the throng of people, she eyed the dark, hulking shape of the train.
Standing there in her ivory suit and shirtwaist, the black smoke from the engines made her all too aware of the grave error she may very well have made. “I should have worn black, after all,” she murmured.
“What was that?” Eldren asked.
“I should have changed into a more suitable traveling costume,” Adelaide replied. “This will be ruined before the train makes it’s first stop.”
“We won’t be on board long. The journey to Chester is fairly short and I have made arrangements to take care of my business there this evening so I would not have to abandon you once we reach London. But Dyllis is already on board with your bags and I’ve managed to obtain a private car for us. You’ll be able to change.”
“Well, it seems as if you’ve thought of everything,” she replied. “Have we accommodations in Chester? Accommodations that will allow for the peculiarity of our marriage?” There was a sharp and biting quality to her tone, something dark and ugly swirling inside her. It horrified her that she’d spoken to him so. It wasn’t as if she had been taken unawares by the situation. He’d told her the truth of the situation.
“Is there something bothering you, Adelaide? I’m afraid if you’re having second thoughts, it might be a bit late to do anything about them… unless you wish to incur a scandal that would ruin us both,” Eldren uttered softly. The words, soft-spoken as they were, held a hint of steel, however.
“I am not having second thoughts. Third, fourth, fifth… They may number into the hundreds now, but you are quite right in one regard. They no longer matter in the slightest.”
“As to your question,” he said, “We will be dining with one of my business associates, Mr. Silas Elam, and his bride, Mrs. Lucille Elam. You may know her. She’s an American. From New York, as I understand it. We have a suite of rooms at the Grosvenor Hotel.” He looked as if he wished to say something further but the conductor called their boarding and he simply closed his mouth and offered her his arm. Adelaide took it, allowing him to assist her aboard as a porter ushered them along the corridor to their small compartment. Eldren paused at the door, “I will locate Dyllis and have her bring you something more appropriate for traveling.”
With that, he was gone and Adelaide was alone in the small car. The shades were already drawn and only the faintest light penetrated the dimness. A moment later, Dyllis entered carrying a black traveling costume over her arm. She was brisk, helping Adelaide out of the ivory suit and into the black one. They didn’t bother with her ruffled blouse, but left it. It would likely be ruined, but was easier to replace than the entire suit would have been. A simple black hat was pinned atop the rather elaborate coiffure Dyllis had battled with earlier in the day and when it was all done, the maid disappeared once more without a word.
Alone, once more garbed in black, Adelaide seated herself on one of the well padded banquettes. Opening the shades of the window, she stared out at the platform of the station as the engine began its crescendo. A woman stood near the doors of the ticketing office, her blonde hair piled high in a cascade of pretty curls. But it wasn’t that which alarmed Adelaide. It was the cold fury that marked the woman’s pretty face as she glared in the direction of their train car. Frances.
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