Shadowed by Sin (4 page)

Every damned secret this house holds would be exposed before he bore his last breath.

It is the best I can do, my dear Helen.

On his way to his room, Edwin detoured and wandered to the main floor where he happened across a whispered conversation between his uncle and another unfamiliar voice. He glanced around to ensure no one discovered his eavesdropping.

“I’ve just received word; Lord St. John’s son will be attending the masque with his fiancée. Find out everything you can about Baron Humphrey. I need leverage, damn it!”

“What if St. John doesn’t provide you with the information you are seeking?”

“Then we use both his son and future daughter-in-law. I cannot have that man interfering with my plans and I will not take blame for anything. It is out of the question!”

“You don’t mean to—”

“What? Kill them? Only if necessary. What part of ‘I will not be held accountable for the misdeeds and dishonesty of others’ do you not understand? St. John was given a task and should he not complete it, if I need to kill the boy or the girl, I will. Now go and do what I’ve paid you to do. Remember, absolute discretion. I cannot have you falter along the way.”

Just what is the old goat up to now? Did he mean to do away with Estelle?
They practically killed his sister, and like hell was he going to allow him to kill the only other woman he’d cared for.

Edwin rushed to his room, ignoring any servants he passed. He must send a note to Estelle immediately and warn her not to come. He had to do something.
This is the only way.

His cousin burst through as cantankerous as ever. The bugger had always found a way to get under his skin, and today would be no different.

“What are you doing? Writing yourself a love note like those foolish poets women seem to fawn over these days?”

Edwin rolled his eyes, refraining himself from stooping to the level of his cousin. While this whole house was convinced that he was troubled, the fact of the matter was this entire manor and its occupants deserved to be in Bedlam or Newgate.

“I am jotting down some notes if you must know. There are things I do not want to forget, and writing them down helps me.”

“Well, in the event no one has told you, the masque is full on, and everyone who was invited has accepted. There will be a full house of guests to entertain me. Shall we place a bet as to how many hearts I can break?”

Edwin clenched his fist at his side, ascertaining that this ball was nothing more than a whim for his cousin to torment the guests.

“Who, by chance, was invited, George?”

“Several university mates, the fiancée of one of them, and other peers mother and father deemed suitable. Father is looking to gain some favor over a business prospect so I imagine he is using the affair as an opportunity to win them over. On that note, I will leave you to return to your writing or whatever it is that you’re doing, but I should warn you, I want you nowhere near the guests at my party.”

“Need I remind you, cousin, I live here too and so did my sister Helen, until you ruined her.” He paused, and clucked his tongue while his cousin scowled. “You didn’t think I knew about you visiting her, did you? You will rue the day you were born.”

His cousin laughed, trying to recompose himself. “You know nothing, and never will. You’re nothing but an orphan, and so was your sister. Oh, and she’s dead, and it’s only a matter of time before you are too. Hell! The only reason my pa took you in was because of the money that was left behind. You don’t honestly think my parents actually love you, do you?”

George sauntered out of his room taking care to slam the door behind him. The action shook the wall and Edwin’s night table, knocking a burnt-out candle onto the floor.

Edwin sighed, closing his eyes, imagining the terror that would wreak this house in the days to come. He had visions of married women being seduced by his lecherous cousin; to his uncle bamboozling members of the peerage in some scheme no less. To the countess, drowning her sorrows, whatever they were, in a daily excess of absinthe and laudanum.

Lord how he tired of this life. Perhaps he would end it, much in the same way he’d done his parents. There wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t think of them, and their threats of sending him away. His only regret was that Helen never had a chance to say goodbye, but then she was taken so early, too.

Soon enough their awkward family would be reunited.

* * * *

Estelle Humphrey clenched her fists at her sides.
Why did the name on the invitation seem familiar?
She pushed the thought aside, and tried to focus on her and Benedict. Since the announcement of this impromptu trip and the troubles his family had encountered, he’d been distant and troubled.

From the day he’d rescued her from Edwin's persistence on the street corner, they had been inseparable. Who knew that tripping in a mud-coated street would neatly plant her at the feet of the man she was meant to marry? Stolen kisses in the parlor, to her batting off his wandering hands while they strolled along the edges of her father’s country estate—she sensed from the very moment they met, their attraction to each other could not be denied. Yet, her body warned her of the dangers of being with a man she hardly knew.

When Benedict approached her father for her hand in marriage, she’d found the proposal a hasty one. But how could she deny the handsome devil that Benedict St. John was? Perhaps during their stay away she would find some privacy with him, discovering his secrets without the hovering shadow of her papa, and Aunt Margaret. Her desire to know more about his family and their connections to the Earl of Hawthorne would certainly break his frigidness. Her father let it slip one Sunday morning after church that Benedict inherited quite a fortune from his grandfather’s estate, which didn’t include what he stood to inherit when his own father passed. Estelle attempted to bring up the subject, yet her fiancé declined to speak further on the matter. However, the niggling matter of the history of Benedict’s father’s dealings haunted her. A vise gripped around her heart as uncertainty flooded through her.

He cannot be so horrible, can he? Ben has always been so kind and gentle toward me and my family. He has other amiable traits that surely stand to his credit and his father has always been pleasant. This blackmailing incident is all a misunderstanding.

Estelle closed her eyes, and then gasped. A vision of a darkened cellar and blood dripping down a wall plagued her mind. Sickness washed over her, and she rushed to cover her mouth with her handkerchief.

“Where did you say we are going, Ben?” she asked with a slight quiver in her throat.

“The Earl of Hawthorne’s estate. Estelle, what is the matter with you? Your face has gone grey like death.”

Her aunt, who had snored for the entire drive, slowly opened her eyes, scrutinizing as if they had been behaving without proper decorum. She closed her eyes again, snoring unscrupulously.

As the carriage slowed its pace, Benedict reached for Estelle’s tight-fisted hands. “Dearest, what has you in such a state?”

Estelle sighed as an overwhelming sense of dread washed over her. “I am not certain, my love. The family name is familiar and I cannot help but wonder why. I am uneasy not knowing what has me so unsure,” she lied, desperately trying to gain composure. Visions occasionally came and went, with no specific meaning or attachment to anything immediate. She could barely understand why she received one in this instance, but her curse would eventually reveal its truth.

He patted her knee and moved to sit next to her, pulling her into his arms. “Dearest, when we are married at the end of the month, I imagine we will be in the company of people we may or may not remember. That cannot be what has you so vexed.”

Estelle nodded. “No, it is not. I have a bad feeling about this trip. Mock me, if that is your inclination, but I swear it on my dear granny’s grave, something terrible is going to happen during our stay.”

“
Pshaw
, my dear. I would never mock you. In fact, I greatly esteem your ability to ‘follow your instincts,’ as us gents say.”

Though pleased with Benedict supporting her, nothing vanquished the fear and panic rising. When their ride finally halted and the door swung open, Estelle opened her eyes to spy the portly driver lowering the steps.

“Auntie,” Estelle patted her aunt’s leg, “we’ve arrived.”

“Lord St. John, allow me to assist you,” the driver volunteered.

“There is no need, my good man. Just see to our trunks and ensure they are brought to our respective rooms,” Benedict said.

The older gentleman nodded and departed toward the footman to leave his instructions.

Estelle masked a yawn that threatened to make a monstrous and unladylike noise. Lord, how she disliked long carriage rides, visions, and intrigues that placed innocents in peril.

“You look exhausted, my dear. Perhaps we should delay in joining the others tonight and rest before dinner.”

“To arrive and not thank our host is most decidedly rude, Ben. I must insist we join the others. I will, however, take a small respite before dinner to refresh myself.” Reaching for her reticule she stepped out of the vehicle and allowed the enormity of the estate to swallow her.

The estate had been rebuilt over a period of fifty years, while some of the remnants of the original building were kept when the new additions were made. Malicious rumors circulated amongst Londoners as to how and why so many renovations had to be completed; was it haunted by its previous owners and servants? There was much speculation pertaining to the whispers of secret passages, a haunted family crypt, and a dungeon.

Everyone in London or nearby was not immune to the scathing gossip hounds, and the family’s history had been known for its scandals. However, it was not until their host welcomed her at the doors did she remember how she knew the name.

“Welcome, welcome, Lord St. John, Miss Humphrey and my dear Mrs. Black. It has been so long since we last met. I am dreadfully sorry about your husband,” the Earl of Hawthorne offered as he bowed his head.

“Thank you kindly, my lord. His passing was quite sudden,” her aunt said.

“St. John, I am so glad you accepted my invitation. The countess will be most pleased to finally meet you both.” Tall, handsome, and distinguished, the aging Earl of Hawthorne smiled warmly at them, but she knew deep down the lies that lurked beneath the surface. He embraced Benedict whose family knew and worked with the earl on many occasions. Her family’s only connection to the Cuthbert’s was of similar interests. Her father, being a baron, knew and associated with members of the peerage that were mostly watered down. The men gambled, hunted, and even bought connecting lands together. There had been something altogether different with his approach with Benedict. A falseness or dark cloud loomed about him, casting a negative and eerie air. Lord, how she struggled to make sense of the things she couldn’t visibly and readily explain.

“Come, come. I will have Mary show you to your rooms.” The earl leaned forward and winked at Estelle. The action didn’t escape Benedict’s notice either and he pulled her into him and gave her a gentle squeeze of comfort. “The countess insisted that I place you both in different wings, but considering Mrs. Black has joined your party, I assume she is here as your chaperone. I will ensure that your party will be kept together. I will, however, insist that you allow me to designate Mary to attend to your needs, Estelle.”

She nodded, hoping to get some rest soon. When they stopped at the bedroom door, a footman was leaving from having put her trunk and valise there.

“I will return in just a minute, Miss Estelle. I will show Lord St. John to his room, which is down the hall.”

“Very well.” Estelle entered the room, finding herself bereft of speech. Her small bedchamber at home paled in comparison to the enormity of this one; decorated for a female with elegant whites, rose colored accents, and a gold leaf trimmed looking glass. The space appeared to have been vacant for some time. Mystery shrouded the chamber much like an early morning fog after a light rain.

A fire burned low in the hearth, casting shadows on the wall where candles were lit, dancing and flickering with movement.

Estelle explored the paneled walls, admiring the great detail in the etchings, until she came to a beautiful portrait of Helen Cuthbert, the earl’s niece who had died mysteriously a year before. She remembered the passing all too well. Helen’s brother, Edwin, had also proposed to her shortly before the tragic event. She declined of course, but in his tenacity he would not relent. The boy was dreadfully persistent until Benedict had saved her from his nagging and pestering at the market one day. Her father had banned the boy from calling on her ever again, and then one day it stopped, and she never bothered to inquire after him. Considering he was likely to be present during their stay here, the manor was large enough she’d be able to avoid him.

Estelle stepped away from the wall, stalked toward the vanity, and sat down. She took a cloth, dipped it into the washbasin, and covered her face with it. How she desperately needed to feel refreshed, but decided to close her eyes for only the slightest of seconds. Her mind wandered aimlessly at how her wedding plans were progressing. In exactly one month, she and Ben would finally be together.

All that remained of their preparations was the wedding breakfast and their travel abroad. Ben expressed an interest in them travelling to the Continent, but given the amount of money she had heard it would cost, she had been adamant in delaying such a frivolous expenditure.

She yanked off the towel and stood up to loosen her gown, before her maid arrived to assist with her change of gowns. When she removed her corset and stood in nothing but her chemise and stockings, a strange cool air wafted in the room. The candles flickered hard, and returned to the gentle dance.

How odd is that? This wing cannot be so old to be so drafty.

Estelle looked up to stare into the mirror and wished she had been graced with more feminine curves. A scant later, the looking glass shook. She went over to it, to ensure it would not fall, but the blasted thing had been secured to the wall.