A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) (44 page)

“Touch you? Oh, no,” the baron said, mild amusement lacing his tone, “a bargain is a bargain, Madam, and I wouldn’t soil my hands with you or your sons.” Belle heard the snap of something being quickly and sharply pulled between a pair of hands. The drapery cords that tied back the curtains. She’d seen him do it before and suddenly she was fifteen again, cowering as he prepared to use the same item to whip her back through her dress. She hadn’t been grateful enough for the music box he’d given her for her birthday. He’d determined that she’d needed a lesson that day, just as he determined Lady Stowebridge needed one now.

The woman began to understand her own peril and Belle heard her stumble, knocking into a table. She saw the countess’s backward movements clearly in her minds eye because at one time or another, Belle herself had moved the very same way trying to avoid him. It hadn’t worked for her then and it wouldn’t work for the countess now. She was an older woman and even though Seaton was older too, as well as sick, her strength would be no match for the baron’s. Belle forced herself to lie immobile, praying that Lady Stowebridge continued backing towards the door taking the baron with her. The only chance either of them had was for Belle to seize the poker and defend them both.

“You gave me your word,” Lady Stowebridge whimpered. “You promised to take her away and leave my Andrew alone if I helped you, if I gave you money.”

Seaton laughed hoarsely.  “Such a protective mother, so loving. Tell me, why are you so willing to sacrifice one son to save the other? You didn’t simply offer your help to save your younger son, you also offered me money to kill the older one. You really are an evil old bitch, aren’t you?” Snap, the cords went taut again. He was playing with her, claiming his power over her before he struck. That much hadn’t changed. It was almost time for Belle to make her move. Regardless of what she felt for the other woman she couldn’t allow the baron to kill her. They both were across the room now, the baron’s back firmly towards Belle.

The room had grown a little lighter from the approaching sunrise. Belle inched her nightgown away from her feet and rolled into a sitting position trusting that Lady Stowebridge would be too frightened to notice. She picked up the poker to steady herself as she rose, her head swimming a little from the blow she’d received. Belle tucked the poker against the side of her robe using the folds of fabric to conceal it.

“If Michael is dead Drew becomes the Earl of Stowebridge. Then her ladyship becomes not only mother of a war hero, but of an earl who will let her have her way in all things, or so she believes,” Belle called out sharply. The baron snapped his head towards her and in the faint glow of the lamp she saw his disease ravaged features and gasped.

“There’s my puss,” the baron crooned. He turned his head back to Lady Stowebridge and brought up the cord stretched between his hands. “Did you have a nice nap? Pardon me while I finish tidying up.” The countess, seeing her death facing her, whimpered again as she cowered away from him.

“You asked a question, Seaton, remember?” Belle said, hoping she didn’t sound too frantic in her attempt to distract him. “You deserve an answer. She owes you one.” She gambled that even with his disintegrating mind he would still operate from a notion of his own self-importance.

He nodded. “Yes, the sow owes me an explanation.”

Belle licked her dry lips. She had to stall him and if it gained her some answers for Michael and Drew’s sakes then so much the better. “I can give you your answer. I’ve been working it out for you. Her ladyship wants Michael dead because he saw what she did to Drew all those years ago and now she’s afraid that one day very soon he’ll put all the pieces together.” She risked looking at the countess for a moment, letting her contempt for the woman show clearly on her face. “You made Drew ill when he was a small child, didn’t you?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying!” the other woman cried. “You’re as mad as he is!” The baron calmly struck the countess across her cheek with the cord, breaking her skin. She howled in pain. “Help me,” she pleaded. Belle wished she could offer her some assurance, but for now it was imperative that the baron believe Belle intended to aid him rather than provide a rescue.

“Michael didn’t understand what he saw that day in the nursery, but he does now. He realized tonight that from the time his brother was an infant you created his illnesses for attention – as a means of punishing and controlling your straying husband. That’s why you’ve hated Michael. You feared him. You feared him so much that you drove wedges between him and his brothers.” Belle saw the truth of her words in Lady Stowebridge’s expression. The other woman shook her head frantically. “You made certain that society viewed you as the long-suffering mother of a wastrel, fueling the gossip that gave you the attention you craved and that alienated a father from his son. It was you who insisted your husband exile Michael for the scandal, wasn’t it?”  Much of what Belle said was speculation, but Lady Stowebridge remained silent, not defending herself against Belle’s accusations, her face twisting in desperation.

“You drove Michael out of his own family, made anything he said suspect so that if and when he did understand the significance of you
r
little bottl
e
, no one would believe him, in fact, they might even think that he was the culprit himself,” Belle declared, edging her way forward to come within striking distance of the baron. “Then Drew began to recover once Michael sent you away and you knew he’d figure out what you’d done and hate you for it.

The baron chuckled, “Well done, puss. You’d do the Metropolitan Police proud.”

“Not really,” she said softly. “Life simply provided me the opportunity to study herbs, harmful ones as well as beneficial ones. It was staring me in the face my first day here,” she said,  gesturing toward the fiery, red and green plant on the stand by Michael’s desk. “Jerusalem Cherry
,
solanum pseudocapsicu
m
, a member of the nightshade family. It’s lovely to look at, but it can be quite lethal causing weakness, nausea, vomiting – even heart and respiratory problems if ingested. Crumbling a few leaves into his ‘Tonic Tea’ made Drew alarmingly ill. You drove Michael away during Drew’s recovering so you could keep him sick and dependent upon you. It was irresistible to play the devoted mother of a war hero – all the attention, the sympathy from your friends. No one could overlook you, or shunt you to the side this time. Michael wasn’t around to protect his brother and Drew no longer cared enough about living to protect himself.”

Lady Stowebridge gave a keening cry and slid to the floor, her arms folding protectively over her head. The baron kicked her. It was no doubt painful, but he’d done it more to include himself than for any other reason. He bent down to loop the cord around her neck and Belle brought the poker crashing down on him. He shrieked and turned on her.

Belle stepped back and swung the poker again, past fear, past the agony of her memories
–
memories of her mother cringing and pleading with him to stop striking her only to have him yank her up by the hair and bury his fist in her stomach, of her own broken ribs and collar bone
.
He raised his arm to protect himself, but Belle managed to land a strong third blow on his shoulder before he attacked her trying to wrench the poker from her hands. Even weakened as he was with illness he still had more strength than her, but this time...this time she would go down fighting.

“Kick his legs!” she cried to Lady Stowebridge, but the woman ignored her, instead seeking the doorway and her own safety. She gained it and left Belle with a devil at her throat.

“Whore!” he bellowed as he successfully wrestled the poker away from her. He was too close for her to entirely escape him, so instead, she fell back on the training given her by one of the sergeants so she could defend herself against any soldier intending her harm. She rushed towards Seaton and shoved the heel of her hand straight up beneath his chin. Her actions stunned him and knocked him back, giving her a few vital seconds to get across the room.

“I’ll break you this time, you dirty little bitch! I’ll tear you to pieces!” he roared.

She’d expected fear to overcome her ability to think, to plan her next move, but fury reared up inside of her, clearing her thoughts and honing her mind into a weapon edged with cold precision. “You’ll try,” she answered in a harsh rasp that sounded more like a growl, “but for every blow you give me, I’ll give you two back. One for me and one for my mother.”

“You betrayed me, Araby. All I ever wanted was your happiness, our happiness and you betrayed me.” The snarl in his voice broke on a sob. “We could have been together, but you let that bastard Lassiter touch you. You destroyed everything we could have had.”

“We had nothing and we never will!” she shouted. “You tormented my mother and me since the day you married her! You may have been able to kill her, but I won’t go so easily.” She glared at the scabs and sores riddling his face in disgust. “Look at you. You’re half dead already.”

He charged her with a roar and Belle snatched up the candelabra from table behind her. Seaton raised his arms, his hands eager to squeeze the life from her. She stepped forward and swung. “Mama.”

***

Michael raced up the stairs, Rafe and two other men fast upon his heels. She had to be safe. He couldn’t lose her now. He started down the corridor intent on gaining his rooms. Please God, he thought, let her be locked inside, let her be safe. Before they reached the staircase to the family wing he saw a figure leaning against the wall for support slowly moving towards them. He recognized his mother in the glow of sunrise coming through the windows. Her lips trembled in fear and her eyes darted around as if looking for an escape. In that moment he knew. “What the hell have you done?” he whispered.

“It isn’t m...me,” she pleaded. “It’s her...she’s the danger. He said he’d take her away. I had to get her away from my boy before....” Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened in fear as she looked into the face of her oldest surviving son.

“Where is she, damn you!” he growled.

***

The blow glanced off his jaw causing him to stumble, but not much more. By the time Belle had steadied herself he’d grabbed her by the throat. Belle brought her arms straight up between his hands and pushed them wide with as much force as she could muster causing Seaton to lose his grip on her throat. She stepped in and thrust her elbow into his stomach. He doubled over and she ran lifting her nightclothes to her knees. She heard his roar of outrage, but didn’t stop to look over her shoulder as she angled her body to race for the door. Two things happened simultaneously, Belle felt something bite deep into her shoulder as a pistol fired from the doorway. She heard Seaton scream and launched herself into the waiting arms of her beloved protector.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Doctor Phineas Greenly was never so happy to see another physician arrive to relieve him of his duty. As luck would have it Duncan Gillian, along with another of Belle’s, friend’s, Mary Seacole, had been on their way to the Abbey. Word of Seaton’s attack reached them when they stepped off the train and they hastened to Belle’s side – not that she was particularly welcoming, or even friendly, for that matter.

Dr. Greenly had ordered Belle to remain in bed for at least two weeks to recover from the knife wound in her shoulder. Michael, in turn, had ordered Belle to follow the doctor’s instructions. However, once the initial dose of laudanum had worn off Belle refused to take more of it despite her pain. Instead, she ordered Paddy to bring her herbal supplies, issuing instructions to both Gussie and Mrs. Babcock on preparations. Dr. Greenly found the situation distinctly unamusing. Michael resorted to threats of tying her to her bed while Drew chortled about ‘just desserts’ from the doorway. Duncan and Mary’s arrival probably spared everyone’s lives.

“Don’t try that attitude with me, girlie, or I’ll wear you out,” Duncan declared narrowing his eyes at his patient, “and if I canna do it Mary can.” Duncan’s brogue had continued to increase since his arrival in Belle’s room, a clear indication of his rising temper. Notes of melodic laughter flowed freely in counterpoint to the Scotsman’s ire as Mary Seacole set a cup of medicinal tea on the table next to Belle’s bed. Belle glared mutinously at both the tea and its bringer. Unperturbed by the younger woman’s temper, Mary reached into the pocket of her colorful turquoise gown and withdrew a jar of salve setting it beside the teapot. “We’ll change your bandage later after you’ve rested,” she said mildly. “Lord knows what that other man used on your wound.” She shook her head and winked conspiratorially at Belle. “Never you mind. Mother’s here now.”

Mary’s soft, lilting accent went a long way in soothing Belle’s annoyance and her upset. Mother Seacole had that effect on people. Belle felt tears prick the back of her eyes as she gazed up into the cheerful, brown face of the woman who’d inspired her and come to mean so much to her during the darkest days of the Siege. Fearing for the safety of her young student, Mary had come herself in answer to Belle’s letter. She’d breezed into the room, her bright clothing and gregarious personality chasing away the worst of Belle’s fears.

As much as she would enjoyed convalescing in Mary’s care, Belle couldn’t allow herself the luxury, not when there was so much to be done. Mary and Duncan joined Dr. Greenly in tending the men injured while fighting the fire and Belle wanted to help as well. Her headache from Lady Stowebridge’s blow had gone and her shoulder, though painful didn’t completely incapacitate her. It was her state of mind that appeared to concern everyone. Belle feared herself unnatural, but for the first time in many years her heart felt lighter knowing that Seaton was dead. He’d haunted her dreams too long and perhaps he would again, but for now all she felt at his passing was relief and gratitude that her mother had been avenged.

Belle’s greater concerns were for Michael and Drew. While everyone fussed and worried about her injuries, Lady Stowebridge’s sons now knew the depths of their mother’s madness and the danger she posed to them both. Yesterday’s chaos had left little time for Belle and Michael to speak privately. Once she’d collapsed into his arms he’d swept her away to her room shouting for someone to summon the doctor. She’d been able to impart a warning about his mother and the information, as well as her own conclusions to what had happened to Drew during his childhood. Michael had surrendered her in Dr. Greenly’s care and left to make certain the countess was in no position to harm anyone.

Drew stopped by for a few moments during Belle’s heated battle to leave her bed. His face had been pale and drawn – an effect, no doubt, of learning that the sickliness of his childhood had been caused by his own mother’s need to be admired. Both men had to be devastated after learning what their mother had set in motion with Seaton’s help.

“I have to see Michael,” Belle declared indignantly. “He must be as devastated as Drew – more so perhaps and he’ll blame himself for everything.”

“Aye, you’ve the right of it there,” Duncan said grimly, “but now the earl and his brother have to decide what’s to be done with their mother. This is something they have to do together, girlie, and love them as you do, you canna help them with it.”

Duncan was right, Belle realized. The Lassiter brothers had to deal with their mother on their own. All she could do was offer solace once their decision had been reached. “Where is the countess now?” Belle asked.

“Under lock and key in the quest wing. Her maid has agreed to stay with her for the time being and Mr. Kingsford has posted three of his men to stand guard. Dinna worry, she’ll not get loose.”

Belle stared at the teacup Mary held out to her in mute misery. She looked up at Mary, an unspoken question in her eyes.

“Not to worry
,
ma cher
i
,” Mary said, gently patting Belle’s shoulder. “It is nothing harmful to young life – should that be of concern.” Belle blushed and concentrated on sipping her tea.

“So that’s the way of it,” Duncan said, rising from the chair by Belle’s bedside, his expression determined. “It appears I shall be having a conversation with the earl myself.”

“He wants to marry me, Duncan,” Belle offered meekly. “At least he did before Seaton showed himself and I confronted his mother. Heaven knows if he still wants me.”

Mary gave a tinkling laugh. “That man still wants you
,
cher
i
, there’s no doubt about that.”

Belle wished she could be as certain.

***

“I don’t care what she’s done, Michael, I can’t send her to Bedlam. Good God, she’s still our mother.” Drew tossed back the rest of the whiskey in his glass, his eyes tormented as he struggled, just like his brother, to find a resolution to the catastrophe that was their mother.

“I’m not proposing Bedlam,” Michael said with a calm he didn’t feel. He wanted to scream, to howl in rage at his own blindness. He alternately wanted to weep for all of them and to choke the life out of his mother, God forgive him. “However, you must see that after what she told us this morning, she’ll be lucky not to swing at the end of a rope.” He leaned toward his brother. Even now his mind rebelled at the words he must say. “She caused our sister-in-law to miscarry her child. That’s why Henry took Fiona to Italy in the first place – to heal and to try again for his heir. If Fiona hadn’t lost the baby....”

“I know. Henry would still be alive.” Drew buried his head in his hands. “All because Mother didn’t want to be a grandmother, or risk Fiona becoming more important than herself as mother to the Stowebridge heir. Dear God, she doesn’t even feel bad about it, Michael. She half expected us to compliment her on how clever she’d been.” 

“She’s insane and she will never get any better, Drew. You must see that it isn’t enough to simply lock her up on an estate and hope she never gets loose.” His brother nodded. “Dr. Gillian suggested a private sanitarium in Geneva. They will care for her without the horrors found in most asylums. He says it’s a clean, humane place with excellent staff. It is the best I’m willing to do for her. She cannot stay in England. Our mother will be in a place where she poses no danger to herself, or to others.” Drew nodded and strangely, once the decision was made both of them began to feel relief.

Hours later a soft knock announced Belle’s presence in his study. She’d opened the door quickly, not giving him an opportunity to refuse entrance. She knew him so well.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” he demanded, gruffly. “Dr. Greenly said....”

“Dr. Greenly is an autocratic fossil,” Belle announced crisply and Michael had to hide a smile. His world might be in complete upheaval, but Belle was a universal constant, an unchangeable waypoint in chaotic seas. She surveyed the room, frowning as she bit her lip in thought. Blast it! He should have sealed this room off entirely once the constable and Jules had finished what little investigation they’d found necessary. She looked at him and managed a weak smile.

“The plant is gone – and the carpet,” she said.

“I had them burned and the plant stand thrown away,” he said, rising from his desk. “I didn’t want you, or any of us to ever have to look at them again.”

Belle nodded, her eyes downcast studying her hands as she twisted them. “It still doesn’t change what happened, Michael, what I did.”

“Wha
t
yo
u
did?” He crossed the room and took her hands gently in his. “What precisely did you do but fight for your life?” 

“But don’t you see, I wanted to hit him, to go on hitting him for my mother, for me. What kind of person does that make me, someone driven to violence by their own capacity for hatred?”

“You defended yourself, my love. You kept yourself safe until I could come for you.” He pulled her into his arms, mindful of her injured shoulder, his eyes closing as he remembered the horrible sight of Belle running for the door and the flash of Seaton’s knife arching through the air towards her back. Had she been turned a little differently he could have so easily lost her. His arms tightened around her waist. “You are the bravest person, man, or woman, that I have ever known, my love. I’m so damned proud of you.” He pushed her back from him so she could see the truth there in his eyes.

“You are a healer, Belle. You’ve been draining the poison from this house, from Drew, from me since the day you arrived. If not for you Drew might be dead and my mother would be free to ruin more lives.” He told her what he and Drew had discovered this morning about Fiona and of his decision to send his mother to the sanitarium in Switzerland.

Belle laid her head against his shoulder and he soaked in the warmth of her love. “Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “This is not your fault – none of it. Oddly, this was never about you. She forced you from the family because you were too observant. That’s why she hated you so much. She feared you. If she hadn’t pressed the issue of your banishment with your father you eventually would have made the connection between her and Drew’s illnesses. She might even have succeeded in harming you.”

“Jules and Dr. Gillian said much the same thing,” he murmured against her hair. “Still....”

“ ‘Still,’ nothing. They are right and I demand that you listen to them.” He kissed her temple, then her cheek and lastly, placed a lingering kiss upon her lips.

“Did Duncan say anything else to you,” Belle asked softly.

As it turned out the good doctor had had plenty to say, but Michael had already received a similar lecture from Drew and even endured some pointed questions from Jules, so he managed to take the doctor’s speech in stride. “Well, he did mention the need for a special license if I intended to keep my manhood about me,” Michael told her with a grin. “Luckily, Jules had already procured one for us.”

“Intelligent man, our duke,” Belle said, beaming up at him. “However, I am still owed a proper proposal, my lord, and I suggest that you get to it. I’m a stickler for details.”

Michael threw back his head and laughed. “I’ve no problem with that, love, as long as one of those details is becoming my wife.” His expression sobered.  “You see, I love you and the thought of my life without you is too bleak to consider. Marry me, Belle, and I will cherish you all the days of my life. I can’t promise you that you’ll never know sadness, nor fear again,” he whispered, “but know this: I will always be at your side come what may.”

Belle looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of joy. “Now that, my lord, was a proposal worth the wait. Yes, Michael, my darling, my love, I definitely will marry you.”

He kissed her then knowing that after long, empty years of wandering, The Earl of Stowebridge had come home to stay.