Dark Hero; A Gothic Romance (Reluctant Heroes) (26 page)

“I can’t.” Marissa responded. “I can’t leave him. Not until
I know he’s well and truly cared for.”

“Gareth?” Elizabeth asked, surmising the woman was concerned
for the child she left behind. “He’s a grown man, Marissa. He’s here. He’s
well, and he’s loved by the family.”

“But what of his birthright? Richard promised me he would
have a bright future, a share in the estate income.”

Elizabeth didn’t know how to respond. What could she say?
Without a written document, there was no proof of Marissa’s claim regarding
Gareth’s share in the estate profits. It was something she might take up with
Donovan---someday--if they were ever on speaking terms again.

Marissa’s spirit looked so broken and full of despair. She
wanted Elizabeth to help her. The spirit moved to the shattered mirror. She
gestured to it insistently, as if there were some hidden meaning there.
Elizabeth watched, feeling sorrow for the poor woman.

“It’s here!” Marissa whispered. “It’s right here.”

Elizabeth was about to question the spirit further, not
comprehending her meaning as she kept gesturing to the spider webbing of broken
glass held in place by the gilt mirror frame.

“My lady!” Chloe’s hectic voice intruded and Marissa’s
spirit melted into the wall. Chloe came trudging past the hammering men,
breathless with excitement. “Madame, we’ve been searching all over for you. You
have visitors. Captain Rawlings and his nephew are awaiting you in the salon.”

*******

Half an hour later, Elizabeth was alone with Captain
Rawlings. He dismissed her guards easily, citing his wish to speak to the countess
alone. As he was their captain, the men didn’t dare question him. He sent Peter
to the kitchens for a snack, took Elizabeth’s arm and led her outside and down
the cobbled path toward the stone terrace at the edge of the gardens.

After looking about to see if they were alone, he asked,
“What can I do for you, my lady?”

There it was; her chance to share her fears, her chance to
escape. Did she dare take it?

“I won’t betray your confidence. What’s wrong? Is it
Donovan?”

She nodded. And then she was weeping, unable to prevent the
onslaught of tears at finding someone who cared about her and had come to help
her.

“Don’t cry, my lady.” The captain crooned, pulling her into his
arms. “Tell me what’s happened so we can make it right.”

Oh, Bollocks, this could go very badly if someone came upon
them so.

She made a little noise in her throat and pushed at him. He
released her immediately.

Once the proprieties were back in place Elizabeth confessed
her husband’s peculiar behavior in the past weeks. She ended with “Is he mad,
Captain? I must know.”

The captain scrunched up his face and gazed at the sea.
“Troubled, yes, eccentric, undoubtedly, but mad, no! Has he spent any time with
you? What about dinner?”

“He eats with the servants.” Elizabeth confided. “As Mr.
O’Rourke. The maids are all silly over him. They talk about trying to capture
his fancy, right in front of me! It’s humiliating.”

He touched her arm and looked as if he might embrace her
again. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No.” Elizabeth protested, looking about with alarm. “I’ve
been trying to make the best of it---but then, Peter sent me that note and I
knew I had to risk confiding in someone in case something awful happens.”

Rawlings swore and turned away. One hand fisted at his side.
“You shouldn’t have to make the best of it.” He sighed and turned back to her.
“Do you wish to leave him, is that it?”

“Oh--I-I--” She shook head and turned away before completing
her denial, afraid the captain might see the truth in her eyes. “If I were in
England, sir, I would have sought sanctuary with my grandfather. How am I to
live with a man who hides and behaves as if I do not exist?”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with that. I’ll talk to
him---“

“No—please--he’ll be angry. I’ll have to face his wrath
after you leave. I’m frightened, Captain. I don’t know what to do, but I cannot
go on like this any longer!”

Jack took her hand. “I’ll see you through this, my lady, I
promise; one way or another.”

There was a crunching of gravel and voices approaching,
Peter’s voice answered by a languid colonial drawl with just the hint of an
Irish burr in it.

“There they are.” Peter came running up to Elizabeth. “You
weren’t funning me, my lady. He’s bigger than Corky. I’d like to know what
you’re feeding Puck.”

“Jack!” Donovan slapped his friend on the back, smiling.

“How are you two love birds getting along?” Rawlings
responded without a smile.

Elizabeth waited with Jack, curious to hear Donovan’s reply.

“Every man should have a wife as fine as my Lizzie. The
house smells of lemon oil instead of dust and mildew.” Donovan placed a
possessive arm about Elizabeth.

Flustered, Elizabeth turned to the boy. “Peter, we’ve
strawberries from the hothouse that have ripened. Would you like some? I’ve
been longing for someone to share them with.”

At the boy’s acceptance, she extracted herself from her
husband’s cloying embrace and hurried up the path. After gaining several feet
away from the men, she turned and shot the captain a pleading look. Please
don’t say anything--please don’t betray me!

The captain’s grim sidelong glance told her he would make no
promises on that account.

*******

“Damned fine woman.” Donovan sighed, watching his delightful
bride move gracefully down the garden path and up to the house with Peter in
tow.

“Yeah.” Jack agreed, “Tell me, are you hoping to keep her?”

As expected, those pale eyes swung about to meet him. “What
is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you wish to stay married to the girl? Because let me
tell you, she’s ready to bolt. She’s talking about going back to England to
live with her grandfather and after hearing how badly you’ve treated her I’m
inclined to help her do just that.” Jack spat out, knowing he’d not planned it
out carefully as he probably should have. He couldn’t think of how to put it
down tactful and clever, not when he wanted very much to hurt this man.

“What did she tell you? I haven’t touched her. Damn it, I’ve
kept away from her--“

“Shut up.” Jack held up his free hand, distracting his
adversary. He had a pistol in his jacket pocket and he had it leveled at the
notorious pirate known as The Raven. If Donovan started swinging Jack knew his
only chance was to shoot him in the knee so he couldn’t stand. “I know you can
take me down with those fancy fighting moves you learned in India. But if I
don’t return to Basseterre come sunset, there will be people coming here to
find out why.”

“Why would I wish to harm you?”

“Because, old friend, I might be taking Mrs. Beaumont to
Basseterre with me.”

“Like hell you are! She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“If she still wants to leave here after you and I finish
this conversation, I am taking her with me. When you married that girl you
entered the world outside your laboratory. She’s not a specimen you can keep
trapped under a bell jar awaiting your whims. She’s a young lady with feelings
and fears. Fears about your sanity, thanks to your masquerade, fears about what
you’ll do to her after I leave here today because I’m telling you this when she
begged me not to.”

“I would never hurt her. You know that, Jack.”

“I’m not the one you have to convince. Like I said, if I
don’t get back by sunset, more people will be coming here to find out why the
tortured, reclusive count is keeping a young woman here against her will. And
before they come, they’ve been instructed to pass along what they know to
others, in case they don’t return.” The tension in Jack’s body made him feel
brittle.

“Do I look mad to you?” Donovan asked as he held out his
hands. “Do you think I’d deliberately terrify the woman I love?”

“Does she know that you love her?” Jack countered. His
question was met with rolled eyes, as if it were bloody well obvious she knew
the man cared for her. “Have you told her you love her? No? Trust me; women are
particular about those trifling little details.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Donovan looked about with
impatience. “I need to ride over to the mill and check the progress on the new
windmill blades I’ve had to replace after the storm last month so they’re ready
for the cane harvest next month and then I have to go over the--”

 “And you asked me a question I haven’t yet answered.” Jack
interrupted. “You asked me if I thought you were mad, if I thought you’d
deliberately terrify your wife. It doesn’t matter what I think, Donovan; I’m
not married to you. You’re not scaring me one minute as the ferocious count and
then scolding me the next as Mr. O’Rourke, coldly laying out rules for me to
follow here as if I were one of your indentures instead of your bride.”

“We had a misunderstanding. I was drunk. I apologized, that
was weeks ago.”

 “Yes, that was weeks ago. But let’s keep going. Let’s
examine the evidence from her perspective.” Jack countered. “How would you feel
if you were brought to an isolated estate and ignored? How long would you be
able to tolerate your maids talking openly in front of you about capturing your
husband’s fancy because they think Mr. O’Rourke is a bachelor? How long would
you endure your husband pretending he’s a fucking servant in his own house?
Tell me, old friend, if you were eighteen years old would you feel safe living
with the man I described? Would you feel loved by him?”

“Wait.” Donovan thrust up a hand. “I don’t give a damn about
those wenches in the kitchen. I’ve been eating with the servants to wheedle out
the bad seed. She has these spells, Jack.” He made a motion with his hand near
his head. “Bouts of confusion. Petite Seizures. She’s disorientated and
vulnerable when she emerges from one. I have to make certain the new servants
won’t take advantage of her during those times. I fired two footmen already.
They were gambling over her, Jack, laying out bets as to which one of them
would succeed in bedding her in the coming months. Do you think I want that
trash in my house, near my darling?”

“The darling you’ve not spent an hour with in the past two
weeks? The darling who wrote to me because she’s scared out of her wits after
living here alone with you?”

*******

The fountain water was refreshing as it sluiced down
Elizabeth’s body in the stifling mid-afternoon heat. She’d been pleased to
learn that it was just a matter of turning on the pump mechanism to get this
lovely tile pool with the fountain running again. She was standing with Peter
in the bottom pool of the three tiered fountain in the front drive, letting the
cool spray of water from the second tier wash over her. The strawberries were a
sweet memory. Their empty bowls sat on the edge of their impromptu bathing pool
as they laughed and splashed one another.

Peter kicked a spray of water at her. Elizabeth bent and
cupped her hands, returning his assault with a sharp skiff of water, right in
his face. He gasped and kicked at her again.

“Oh, look!” She squinted into the water as little squiggly
creatures swum around her ankles. “Some kind of fish is in here.”

“Those are tadpoles.” Peter cupped his hands and caught one.
He stepped close and held it up for her inspection. “See, they’ve got little
legs growing out their backsides.”

Elizabeth shivered. “Oh, this water is starting to feel
cold.”

“We could swim in the ocean, and then lie in the sun and
bake ourselves like clams.”

“I don’t know how to swim.” Donovan had promised to teach
her. He promised many things during the voyage and she believed him.

The sound of boots on the cobblestones made her look up from
the pool. The men were coming around from the back of the house, approaching
them with determined strides. Elizabeth looked down at her muslin gown. The
fabric was wet, nearly transparent and clinging to her body. Oh, Bollocks!
She’d been caught breaking his rules again, wandering outside alone. Judging by
the grim look on her husband’s face, she’d be paying for her folly as soon as
the captain left.

“Uncle Jack!” The boy sprinted out of the pool and rushed up
to the captain.

“Let’s let these two have a moment.” Rawlings grabbed his
nephew by his neck to guide him to the front steps. “Oh, your skin feels like
ice. Go inside and get out of those wet clothes.”

Elizabeth stood in the knee deep pool, her arms crossed
about her to hide the nipples poking out from her now transparent bodice. She
kept her gaze down to avoid the somber man on the edge of the pool who was
watching her with pale, penetrating blue orbs.

“Elizabeth.” Donovan held out his hand, directing her to
step out of the pool.

She shook her head, unable to take that hand. The tightness
in her chest made her feel as if she might break into a thousand pieces if she
moved or breathed.

The water sloshed about her calves. Donovan had stepped into
the fountain. She focused on his boots, unable to meet his austere eyes.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He said in the velvet tone.
“I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth nodded, uncertain, as he stood before her with his
friend looking on. Was he trying to appear contrite now that Rawlings was
involved? Was he sincere? She didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d find not
love in his eyes, but contempt.

The silence was making her ill. She felt nauseous, light
headed and cold.

“Don’t leave me. I’ll change. I swear it.” He whispered.

 Bewildered, Elizabeth looked up at him. She was unprepared
for pleading from a man she believed had come to despise her. “I don’t wish to
leave, sir.”

“Tell me what I need to do to make you happy here.”

“I can’t go on like this.” She pushed the words out. Sharp
as they were, they sliced raw trails of pain inside her throat. She was
determined to speak her heart no matter the cost. “I cannot endure your
contempt any longer. Don’t you understand? I spent my childhood being unwanted
baggage in one man’s house. Afraid of his temper, afraid of being beaten—afraid
of breaking his damn rules—I will not spend my life being unwanted baggage in
another--”