Even as the quiet stretched she couldn’t shake the shiver that had burrowed deep within. She snatched up her dressing gown, shoving her hands through the sleeves and knotting the belt. She had to check on the boys for her own peace of mind.
Cautiously she opened her bedroom door and peeked into their room. Four lumps under the covers. Not one stirred. She stepped further inside. Their breathing sounded deep, even and innocent. Difficult to believe they were such little devils when awake. Three weeks. Three weeks and things hadn’t gotten any better. She sighed. Perhaps it was impossible to break the boys. Could she stand to stay here for five more months?
She pushed the thought aside. Still no sound. Surely the scream had been her imagination, or a nightmare. She prayed it hadn’t been her own horrible memories waking her. She’d absolutely die if Lord Brimley was forced to her room to comfort her once more.
Lifting a trembling hand, she tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Her nerves were merely overwrought and why shouldn’t they be? She tiptoed toward Tommy and brought the blanket up to his chin, the urge to draw her hand down his chubby cheek overwhelming. In sleep he was so innocent…so dear. But if she didn’t get a good night’s rest, she’d find them anything but darling in the morning.
She started toward her room when she heard it again… an aching scream, barely audible this time. Beth froze. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was a scream of torture, a scream of pain. Who?
Frantic, she rushed to the hall, pausing, breathless. Murmured voices drifted from below interrupting the quiet. She pressed her hands to either side of the stairwell. Dare she head to the first floor? Perhaps someone needed help and she might be able to assist. Or perhaps she was just too bloody curious.
The steps creaked as she made her way down, hesitant to interrupt but needing to know. She’d just reached the bottom step when Mrs. Turner raced by so quickly that she didn’t notice Beth.
Another cry.
Beth cringed, her empathy flaring.
Someone in pain. Terrible pain. Unable to stop herself, she started after Mrs. Turner. The voice sounded male, but who? She rounded a corner heading into a wing of the house where she’d never been when she spotted the housekeeper standing outside a door, holding a pan of what appeared to be water. Strange, indeed. Beth attempted to decipher objects from the shadows but everything seemed so bizarre and murky. Was she dreaming? No, her heart was pounding too hard for her to be sleeping.
Cherry wainscoting covered the lower half of the walls, the top papered a dark green. Only one lantern hung from the ceiling halfway down the corridor, the rest of the area plunged in darkness. The wing was old, outdated, suspended in time.
“My lord, ye must keep quiet,” Mrs. Turner insisted, her voice holding the frantic edge of someone terrified of being caught. Beth knew the feeling only too well.
A muffled groan sent a shiver down her spine. Beth paused at the corner, half-hidden. The hazy edges of slumber had long since vanished. She was completely and utterly awake. The lantern flickered, sending eerie shadows that jumped and hissed, as if sputtering a warning. The corridor was empty, disappearing into shadows at the end of the hall. No movement. No one but Mrs. Turner and the man she spoke to from the doorway.
Beth wasn’t one to believe in ghosts or hauntings, but as she stood there terrified and confused, she could almost believe in the otherworld. Almost. She knew she had heard the scream. Was positive. Hadn’t she?
“More water, hurry!” Mr. Reynolds, the butler, called out.
Mrs. Turner scurried inside. Beth couldn’t resist. Slowly, she tip-toed down the hall, pausing at the door. She didn’t knock, or step inside, but peeked through the crack between the door and the wall. Lord Brimley paced the large room wearing only trousers. No shirt, no stockings, no shoes. His hair hung in sweaty tendrils around his head.
“I told you to get the bloody chains!” he growled.
“Please, my lord, ye must rest.” The housekeeper stepped into her line of vision. Reynolds took the water. The elder woman looked haggard and pale as she stood in the center of Nate’s room, wringing her hands together in obvious dismay. “If you rest, perhaps you can control—”
“I can’t control a damn thing and you know it!” Nate’s face was a mask of fury. “And I can’t fucking rest!”
Beth jumped, startled by his outrage. Who was this man? Sweat beaded on his forehead, streamed down the hard planes of his face and dripped to the floor. His hands were fisted at his sides, the veins popping out underneath the skin. He paced, and every time he turned, his muscles bunched under his skin. Beth’s mouth went dry.
Lord, he was intimidating…stronger than any man she’d ever known. What damage could he do with those fists? His chest was sprinkled with dark hair that trailed temptingly to the waistband of his trousers. She’d seen naked men before. Her own husband had been considered extremely handsome, yet he was nothing compared to Brimley. She didn’t understand the heated desire that flared through her. She rested her hand to her thumping heart, staring at his muscled chest with utter fascination.
She’d been attracted to her husband, how could she not be? But that attraction had been an innocent warmth that had giggled its way through her with childlike infatuation. This…this was something entirely new. This was a fiery rush of desire that left her breathless and wondering…wondering how it would feel to draw her fingers down his sweaty skin. To taste his lips. To know his body as well as she knew her own. Her heart thundered in her ears. It had been so very long since she’d been tempted by a man.
She stepped hesitantly closer to the door. A floorboard underfoot creaked. Beth froze. Lord Brimley jerked his head toward her. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Surely he couldn’t see her…it was too dark. Yet, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared ever so slightly as if he could sense her very being. Beth gasped and shrank back into the shadows.
He jerked his head toward Mrs. Turner. “Leave me now!”
The housekeeper didn’t pause, but raced across the room, Mr. Reynolds at her heels. She pulled the door shut and bolted it from the outside. But she wasn’t done. No. With trembling fingers the older woman fumbled with a chain and lock, clicking it in place. Beth forgot to breathe. Why would there be locks on the outside? Why would they imprison Lord Brimley in his chambers?
“Did he seem worse to you?” Mr. Reynolds asked Mrs. Turner.
Beth hesitated, considering her options. Leave and pretend she hadn’t heard or seen a thing out of the ordinary, step into the light and demand answers, or keep hiding and eavesdropping as she had been doing for the last five minutes?
“Shhh,” Mrs. Turner snapped. “He’ll hear! Ye know how good his hearing is.”
Eavesdrop it was.
Reynolds sighed. “Nothing to do about it now but pray he doesn’t kill anyone, and wait until the morning.”
With a nod toward the housekeeper, he turned and fled down the opposite end of the hall.
Releasing a long breath of obvious relief, Mrs. Turner spun around to leave. Spotting Beth, she jumped, startled. “Lord,” the woman whispered. “Mrs. Church, ye can’t be down here!”
“But…I thought I heard…”
She latched onto Beth’s arm with a firm grip that left no room for argument, and pulled her toward the steps. Her jaw was set, her gaze focused determinedly upon the hall ahead.
“Mrs. Turner, what’s wrong? I heard screaming.”
“Twas nothing.” She kept her hold tight as they stumbled up the steps toward the nursery. “Billy, the stable lad, broke his arm, is all.”
“But—”
“Go to bed now. Ye’ll need yer rest fer tomorrow, dealing with the little hellions.” She shoved Beth down the hall. “The downstairs is off limits for tonight.”
“The other servants—”
“Have the night off. Now, go to bed.”
For a long time Beth merely stood there, staring in stunned silence at the empty hall.
&
nbsp; “How very odd,” she mumbled. “There are a bloody lot of places off limits here.”
“Mrs. Church?”
Startled, Beth let out a little yelp before spotting the small form standing in the doorway of the nursery. Tommy stood in his night rail, like a little glowing ghost in the moonlight filtering through the windows.
“What are you doing out of bed?” She rushed forward and slipped her arm around his narrow shoulders. She couldn’t let the lad know about his father in the man’s current state. If he heard the screams, he would be terrified.
“Did you hear the shouts?” he asked, surprising her once more.
Beth forced her lips upward, hoping he didn’t notice the tremble of her hands. “Was nothing.” Did he believe her lie? She’d always been a terrible liar, although lately she’d had plenty of practice. “Come, let’s get some sleep.” She gently led him back to his bed.
“The last governess left when she heard the screams.”
Beth paused. So, this wasn’t the first time. Was it the drink? Her husband had acted just as odd when drunk. Ranting and pacing, stumbling. But Lord Brimley hadn’t been stumbling. He’d seemed quite sure of his footing. “And do you hear them often…the screams?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He yawned, his lashes fluttering.
“Come along.” She shouldn’t pry. It was none of her business, after all. She pulled back the covers. Reluctantly, he slid between the sheets. The house was too much of a mystery, the air practically vibrated with unanswered questions. She glanced at the other boys, all in their little beds, all fast asleep. So innocent looking. What fear they must go through when their father had these episodes. It wasn’t surprising they acted as they did. Their actions were becoming all too clear.
“Don’t want to sleep,” Tommy muttered, curling into a ball on his side. “Want to check on father.”
She smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead, the strands still baby soft. “I just saw him and he looked fine to me. The screaming was merely Billy, from the stables. He broke his arm.”
The comment sounded as silly coming from her mouth as it did Mrs. Turner.
Tommy shook his head, the pillow underneath crinkling with the movement. “No, tis father.”
She flushed, feeling as if she’d been caught in a lie, yet fascinated with his response. “But… why would your father be in pain?”
He shrugged, his eyes closing. “I don’t know. But it always happens.”
“Always?”
He nodded.
“How often?” she asked.
“Don’t know.”
“I’m sure… I’m sure he’s fine.” But Tommy was already sleeping, his breath soft and easy.
He, at least, could get lost in slumber. She feared she would never sleep again. She glanced out the door. Unease whispered across her body, the caress of a warning. Something was most assuredly not right here. She brushed Tommy’s hair from his forehead, her worry for the children overcoming her own discomfort. And just because she couldn’t help herself, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his chubby cheek.
The home was full of secrets, and secrets could get a person killed. Perhaps they were little hellions in need of a good reprimanding, but she would make sure the children were safe, even if it meant facing off with the lord of the manor.
“Mrs. Church,” Tommy whispered.
Beth paused at her chamber door. “Yes?”
“You’re not so bad.”
She smiled, her heart warming for the first time in days. “Thank you Tommy.”
“But don’t tell the others I said so.”
“I won’t.”
She moved into her little chamber, but sleep would not come. Her mind raced, her body alert. Something was strange, something she didn’t understand, couldn’t quite put her finger upon. She brushed aside her curtains and peered out across the silver hills, alight with the full moon.
An odd sensation of foreboding whispered warnings in her ear; a sensation that she’d experienced the moment she stepped foot inside the castle and it hadn’t wavered. An eerie howl pierced the quiet night, echoing across the hills. She shivered. Beth started to turn away when movement on the far crest caught her attention. She stepped closer, attempting to see better. Was it a dog? A wolf?
The dark beast paused and turned his head her way as if sensing her presence.
Startled, Beth gasped and let the curtain fall back into place. Surely he couldn’t have seen her, yet it felt as if he had. With trembling hands she pulled back the curtain.
The wolf was gone.
Depleted and anxious, she brushed aside her covers and nestled into her small bed.
Merely a dog. Yes, it was merely a dog. She closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax.
But would a mere mutt have killed that poor sheep?
****
Her head ached something fierce, she’d barely slept last night and exhaustion was making her limbs heavy and her mind muddled. She’d thought a short trip outside might damper the boys’ excitement, help them to focus on studies later. Plus, she’d needed the moment.
She’d love to lay abed under the covers while a maid heated the sheets with a warming pan, sending her back into blissful slumber. But Beth hadn’t been able to sleep in late for years now. And she certainly couldn’t today. Not when she was no better than a servant. How she longed for the days of her childhood, hours spent attending parties and eating iced lemon in the garden. Her parents had been silly wastrels, having fun more often than they attended to their children but her childhood had been ideal, if lonely.
Beth took in a deep breath, the scent of hay relaxing her aching head. The day was fine, the clouds fluffy and white, she shouldn’t have been dwelling, yet she couldn’t seem to forget the memories. Yes, her childhood had been well enough, until she’d been introduced to the ton. She’d been silly to think after she married her life would be like the fairy tales she’d read as a child. She’d been silly to think a man as handsome as her husband, a man who could have had his pick, would truly want her. Perhaps she’d known all along. After all, hadn’t she overheard Lady Willoughby on the very day of her wedding?
“You know he’s only marrying her for her money. As if he’d marry her when he could have anyone. Poor girl, she actually thinks he loves her.”
To make matters worse, Eliza had been there, although she hadn’t responded, merely smiled into her lemonade. But it wasn’t just for her money. No. Christopher had married her because he’d assumed she was so desperate that she would sit meekly by while he destroyed her life. The memory no longer hurt. At least not much. Barely anything hurt anymore. In fact, she was starting to wonder if she had any emotions left at all. She’d felt so bloody numb for so long.
But now…Oh yes, she’d felt since arriving at the estate. Frustration, anger, annoyance and despair. She’d experienced them all repeatedly since she had started teaching the young lords, and most especially since meeting Lord Brimley.
What had been wrong with him last night? Was it an illness that had him cursing and screaming? Something was most definitely wrong with the man and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the truth.
“Father said I could ride the stallion!” Tommy cried.
Beth prayed for patience. She’d been praying for patience an awful lot lately, but for the most part God seemed to be ignoring her. With a sigh, she turned toward the stables to see the boys gathered around the fence. Gone was the sweet, scared, small boy she’d found last night. Had he truly said he liked her? He was back to his wretched self, bolstered by his brother’s mocking grins and stubborn natures.
“Tis true,” Oliver obviously lied.
The stable keeper shifted, looking more than uneasy. Of course he didn’t want to call the boys what they were… little hellions, but he had enough common sense and knew the stallion would be too much for the children. The problem was what to do…anger the little lords, or chance that they’d be murdered by the horse.
“Now, I don’t believe he said that exactly,” the man muttered, lifting his cap and scratching his bald head.
Charlie turned from the fence. “Are you calling him a liar?”
Tommy stomped his foot again. “Tis true! And if you don’t allow me, I’ll have father let you go!”
Mr. Hash flushed, his jowls quivering with nervousness. “Now, now. No need. We can figure something out.”
Beth sighed. Someone had to put a stop to their reign of terror and apparently it would have to be her. “Please, everyone calm down.” She pushed her way between the boys, hoping if she separated them, poor Mr. Hash wouldn’t feel so attacked. “No one is firing anyone.”
The four boys turned their glares to her. She’d betrayed them. Oh, they’d get her back for this, no doubt. But their safety was of the utmost of importance.
She reached into the bag of apples hanging on the fencepost. “Feed the horses while I speak with Mr. Hash.”
One by one, the boys snatched the apples from her hands and sauntered toward the fence, but not before cursing at her under their breaths. Traitor was mumbled more than once.
“And stay on this side!” she demanded, although she doubted they were listening. Oliver and Charlie had their heads bent together, probably planning her demise. She sighed, frustrated and bemused. How could she get them to listen? To trust her?
“They’re a handful,” Mr. Hash said, resting his right foot on a fence rail and shaking his head.
Beth stepped closer, so as not to be overheard. “A litter of puppies is a handful, Mr. Hash. They are a nightmare.”
He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, his eyes so wide she almost laughed. Other than Mrs. Turner, it was obvious no one else spoke the truth in this household. It was about time someone did.
Instead of reprimanding her, Mr. Hash burst out laughing. “True, I’ll grant ye that much.”
Beth grinned, but she wasn’t here to discuss the boys. “Mr. Hash, how is Billy?”
His bushy white brows drew together. “Eh?”
Beth paused for a moment. Had she gotten his name wrong? No, she remembered quite well. How could she forget? That night would be engrained in her memory for eternity.