Beguiled (9 page)

“Liar,” she crooned and ran her tongue over her lips in a
manner he imagined she found seductive. “I watched you with her. You were
thinking of me while you fucked her. Tell me what it was like taking her. Did
she fight you? Did she protest? I could only see the act itself—your buttocks thrusting
between her thighs. Like the day your uncle took me in the summer house. Were
you not aroused by my story of his raping me? Do you want to do the same thing?
You are jealous of your uncle. I know you want to take me by force, Branson—so
do it,” she moaned.

He recoiled, understanding a hideous truth for the first
time. “Arthur Hamilton did not rape you. You lying bitch.”

Grace was suddenly frightened and cringing as though she
realized she had gone too far. “Forgive
me,
I was only
trying to please you.” She pressed her naked flesh against him. “I am so very grateful
for what you have done for me. You’ve made me happy, Branson. Let me show you
how happy.” She took his hand and led him to the four-poster bed. “We have not
yet had our wedding night, my love. I want to consummate our union. Make love
to me, husband.”

Grace pulled off her slip and stretched on the bed. She
raised her arms over head like an erotic Venus. Branson examined her body
coldly. She was sexually alluring and she was his wife. If he could not have
Clara, then sleeping with Grace would provide him with a life of a kind. A life
of no greater misery than the one he had been living. It was something to
consider.

The net of his bleak future tightened around him. Branson
took a step toward the bed. Her cheeks were dark hollows.
Skeletal.
In the dim recesses of his mind, he heard Clara’s voice telling him she loved
him. He saw her bright eye and shining brown hair. He felt her trembling body
under his, giving herself to him wholly. How could he substitute that pure love
with this grotesque imitation?

“How easy you are to manipulate,” Grace giggled hysterically.
“What a fool! How impotently you raged at Arthur Hamilton yet he was twice the
man you are.
He
did not need an
invitation to take a woman. Arthur Hamilton knew what to do with that thing
between his legs.”

And then it was clear—blindingly clear. Grace was right. He had
been a fool, a young, idealistic romantic fool. Grace was not only mad, she was
perverse. Branson gazed at her, detached and unfeeling, at last able to see the
woman he had been tricked into marrying.

He turned from her and walked to the door.

“Get dressed. I’ll call Piers to pack your things. You’ll be
leaving on the morning coach.”

“I don’t think so.” Grace’s voice was flinty and
contemptuous. “I am not going anywhere.”

“I’m your husband, Grace. You’ll go where I send you. You
forget I have the legal authority to have you committed. And after what you’ve
just told me, I will have no scruple. I cannot
wait
to sign the order,” he said savagely.

He strode down the hall. Seeing Clara’s face before him, in
his mind’s eye, had the effect of filling him almost with joy. A novel feeling
and Branson
savoured
the sensation. That loathsome
scene, the mad woman and her twisted perversions vanished behind him. He would
write Edgar for Clara’s address just as soon as Grace was safely deposited in
Switzerland.

“You are weak!”

Grace’s scream echoed behind him like a banshee’s wail down
hall.

“You will never get me out of your life!
Never!
You are not strong enough! I
shall see you in hell first!”

Branson spun around. Grace raised the knife in her hand and
lunged at him.

Hyde Park, London ~ the next morning

MRS. BROCKVILLE was shocked by the
announcement that Miss Clara Hamilton was waiting to see her in the downstairs
parlour. She was equally eager to speak to the girl and discover what happened
after she’d left Somerset, in detail. Mrs. Brockville had heard the rumours, of
course; all of London was talking about Clara and Branson Hamilton, but to hear
the tale from the horse’s mouth would be a coup indeed.

“My dear, Miss Hamilton!
How well
you look. Have you just come from your mother’s house? We’ve heard the news,
such a sad business. Colonel Brockville is deeply distressed by this turn of
events, as indeed your father and mother must be. And
you
! My dear, is it true that you were confined to
Gateshead
Asylum? Was it because of the ghost? I might have
warned you to keep that story to yourself. Practical men like your father do
not credit the supernatural. He would chalk your visitation up to a weakness in
your mind. However did you get out?”

Clara’s hand travelled automatically to her shortened hair.
It had been difficult to dress it this morning. She’d managed to pin it up with
a comb but it lacked curl.

“Branson Hamilton came to my aid,” she said quietly. “He
convinced the director to release me into his care. I’ve just spoken to my
brother, Edgar. He suggested I come and explain matters to you as you have been
so kind to me. I regret to say I led you to believe that I was married to Mr.
Hamilton. That is not the case. I intended to marry him but was met with an
insurmountable obstacle and nothing can be done about it. He is not a wicked
man, Mrs. Brockville, though I’ve tried to cast him as such. Branson has done
my family a good turn and whether or not my father can appreciate it, we owe my
cousin a great debt.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Brockville murmured. Her eyes were fixed on
Clara’s face with avid attention. “You were living at
Windemere
Hall, without a chaperone, with your cousin. My dear you must see how it
looks
. Naturally, your father had a
strong reaction to hearing of your living arrangements.”

“Yes, on the face of it, it would appear you are right.”

Mrs. Brockville patted her hand and leaned closer. “Just
between us,
entre nous
, Captain
Strachan is thoroughly put out by this business with your father. It seems they
had come to an agreement of sorts and Arthur Hamilton reneged. Strachan is
most
grieved, though I am not sure why.
The captain was also negotiating for your release from the asylum, perhaps even
as Branson Hamilton was finding success. You have two rather ardent admirers,
my dear.”

“My brother informed me of the arrangement Captain Strachan
made with my father. I assure you, Mrs. Brockville, there is not a
jot
of admiration in that gentleman for me. Captain
Strachan has shown his true
colours
. I only hope he
will put the past behind him and find happiness with Miss Delisle because he
has lost a friend in me.”

Mrs. Brockville leaned forward eagerly. “I knew it! I
suspected as much. You may speak freely, Miss Hamilton. My, how strange!
Miss
Hamilton!” The lady laughed. “I
could see from the first that you and Mr. Branson were meant to be together so
not another word about obstacles! Nothing shall separate you. You must not
allow it. I’ve never seen two young people as much in love as you and young
Branson.”

Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Oh dear.
I am sorry, Mrs. Brockville. I vowed I would not cry. Your kindness is much
appreciated. Mr. Branson and I have parted friends and are not likely to see
each other again. The obstacle is fixed and divides us utterly. It is hopeless,
I’m afraid.”

It was all too much, more than she could bear. Clara fell to
weeping openly.

“Oh my dear girl, your nerves are shattered. Now, now, pull
yourself together. Does your mother still take to her bed?”

Clara nodded and wailed louder. “If it were not for Edgar, I
should be quite alone. My father will not speak to me; my mother complains of
her nerves and I dare not test them. Edgar is my only friend and he is away at
business ‘til all hours. He is happy though. I’ve never seen him look so well.
It suits him to head up Hamilton Trading. I envy his occupation. I wish I were
a man and could apply myself to something useful each day.”

“Well then, here is the remedy! I have need of a secretary
to manage the mountain of correspondence I am expected to reply to as the
Colonel’s wife. This is in addition to the numerous social engagements I am
required to attend and arrange! I can assure you it is not easy work, but for a
sensible young lady, the employment is
honourable
and
will give you a measure of independence and occupation. Are you interested?”

Clara fought against her rising hope. “Mrs. Brockville, you
are kindness itself, but please do not make your offer out of pity. I have the
support of my brother, I am not without resources.”

“Of course not, but it is a fine thing for a young woman to
have her own money, don’t you think? I myself have a small independence left to
me by my mother.”

Mrs. Brockville waved away all objections to the scheme. “It
is settled. You will travel with me to
Petherham
. We
are hosting a shooting party in a few days time and I shall require your
assistance. Oh! Perhaps I should warn you, Strachan is among the invited. I
won’t let him bother you. We’ve invited Corporal Jack
Denby
to join the party.” The lady’s eyes twinkled. “You recall the young man, I
hope. He was very attentive when last you met.”

“Yes, of course. I should be glad to see him again. And—and
will Miss Trudy Delisle be joining us?”

“She will.” Mrs. Brockville patted Clara’s hand. “But you
needn’t worry about her either. I haven’t told you the best part of my plan—you
will be in close proximity to
Windemere
Hall! A brisk
walk over the Down and there you are. I daresay you’ll find an excuse to slip
away from the gathering and I promise I won’t look too hard for you, my dear.”
The lady giggled. “Now, you must tell me everything about the ghost of
Windemere
Hall and the power she wields over our poor Mr.
Branson.”

§

Windemere
Hall ~ three days later

BRANSON’S RECOVERY from the stab wound to
his shoulder was slow and perilous. There were several hours when Death was in
the room with them. Infection had set in. The doctor declared Master Hamilton to
be in grave danger and likely to die.

Piers had not been able to explain how the master of
Windemere
Hall came to be knifed in the back. Coming on the
heels of Quince’s untimely death, it was only a matter of time before the
physician’s enquiries became too pointed to deflect. Their secret would be out
and either Grace would be sentenced to
Broadmoor
Asylum
for the Criminally Insane or Piers would be hanged for a murderer.
Much depended on Branson’s survival.

Grace had hidden in her apartment, weeping inconsolably.

“You must fight, Branson,” Piers said. He
laid a fresh cold cloth on his brother-in-law’s forehead. “You must not die.
Grace is already a dead woman and cannot be prosecuted. That was clever of you.
A dead woman cannot inherit her husband’s property.
What is to become of Gracie and me if you die, eh? How are we to live?”

“You may go to hell for all I care.”

Piers bounded to his feet. “What? What was
that? Branson, are you awake?”

Branson’s lungs burned. His mouth felt on
fire and a sharp horrible pain pierced his shoulder. He was burning up and
parched with thirst.

“Water.”

“Water—yes! Oh, thank God! You had us rather
worried there, old man. You’ll be good as new now that the fever has broken,
the doctor has said so. He’s off on his rounds but he’ll return this evening.
He did not expect you to live, but I had no doubt. You are too strong.” Piers
lowered his voice. “Gracie told me what happened. She told me all about it,
Bran. She is so piteously sorry for what she’s done—if you saw her—how grievously
she suffers—it would break your heart. You mustn’t be angry. This has been an
anxious time for her what with Miss Hamilton on the premises. Gracie is eager
to be a wife to you now and give you children.”

Piers set a cup of cold water against
Branson’s lips. “I’ve had a look at your stepfather’s will. I found it in the
desk drawer in the study. I hope you don’t mind, but when you were so near to
death, I had to learn what my sister’s rights were. As it happens, unless you
have a male heir, Edgar Hamilton will inherit
Windemere
in the event of your death. We shall have to do something about that, Bran. To
protect your inheritance, you understand.”

His brother-in-law’s voice distorted and
faded as Branson drifted in and out of consciousness. There was something he
meant to do ... something he intended....

“Annulment,” he rasped.

Piers shoved into Branson’s field of view.
“An annulment...? Bran, you cannot annul a dead woman. To get an annulment,
Gracie would have to be declared your living wife, and if she is alive then she
has conjugal rights which she will want to exercise. If a child is conceived
during the marriage, that’s all the better. An annulment is impossible, old
boy.”

“I’ll have your sister committed.”

“Ah, yes. Grace mentioned that was your
plan. For such a brilliant man, you did not think it through very carefully.
You cannot have a
dead
woman
committed. The choice is yours, Bran. You can be forever shackled to a madwoman
or live free with a dead wife. I’m not a monster. Take a lover if you must, but
Grace must continue to live at
Windemere
Hall.”

“I don’t want her here. I don’t want you.”

“You should have thought of that before you
married into the Leeds family. Gracie is clever; she can appear as sane as a
judge when her back is to the wall. You’ve seen what she’s like. Do you want a
Bill of Divorce? Do you want her roaming free? What about Miss Hamilton—how
will you protect her if Gracie is at liberty?” Piers set the cup on the
nightstand. “At present, no one knows Grace is alive and that offers the surest
protection for everyone.”

“Clara Hamilton knows.”

Piers frowned angrily. “That was stupid. You
had best make sure that Miss Hamilton never crosses paths with my sister then. Grace
has committed murder. She frightens me, Branson. You know better than anyone
what she’s capable of when she’s threatened. Be warned. If you value Miss
Hamilton’s life, you will stay away from her. And keep her well away from the
Hall.”

The man rose to his feet and straightened
his waistcoat. “We’ve talked long enough. You need your rest. The fact is
nothing can be done about Grace until you are strong again. But think about
what I’ve said. A dead wife is freedom. A living wife is a responsibility.”

Branson did think about what his
brother-in-law had said. He thought about it long and hard, but his thoughts
did not take the direction Piers intended.

There was no way out save one.
One way to free them both.

Grace was upstairs on the upper floor. His
pistols were locked in a box on the top shelf of his wardrobe. Branson closed
his eyes and thought of Clara and the last hour he’d had with her in the field.

His mind cleared. His purpose was fixed.

When he was well again, he would take one of
the pistols, climb the stairs to Grace’s room and shoot her between the eyes.

And then he would shoot himself.

Edgar would take care of Clara. She would
inherit Branson’s shares in Hamilton Trading and
Windemere
Hall would be her home. His mouth twisted with the irony. At the end of his
life, he had finally learned to trust his Hamilton cousins.

It might have been the fever or the
infection, but Branson felt at peace. Dying did not worry him. It was living
that had become untenable.

§

Petherham
Manor, Somerset ~ five days later

THE MAID entered Clara’s room carrying a beautiful
gown of silver and midnight blue over her arms. The girl’s face was alight with
excitement as she laid it on the bed.

“What have you there?”
Clara controlled her reaction in case the dress was intended for someone else.

“It came for you, miss,
just now, from the village!” she said breathlessly. “There was no card but the
mistress says it is likely from your brother, Mr. Edgar Hamilton. You are very
lucky to have such a considerate brother. Mine are no good for anything. It is
for you to wear at the dance tonight. Is it not beautiful, miss?”

It certainly was
beautiful; exquisitely made and very expensive. Clara would be glad to be given
an alternative to wearing the
cremé
glacé
silk wedding dress that had proven to be both
serviceable and dreadfully unlucky.

“It cannot possibly
fit.” She scrutinized the snug bodice. “How could he possibly know my size?”

The card enclosed
showed that the dress had come from a fashionable dressmaker in London. Her
mother must have placed the order. Edgar did not have funds for this sort of
extravagance! She would scold him when she saw him. But Clara understood the
impulse to enjoy his good fortune and make decisions for his mother and sister.