Shadowed by Sin (6 page)

He would show her yet; very soon they would all receive their comeuppance in spades.

Estelle woke from her faint feeling as if someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. Her eyes barely focused, but she instantly recognized she had been returned to her designated chamber. In a haze, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. The fireplace glowed in doubles, confusing her even more.
What happened? Why do I feel this way?

However confusing her current state left her, Estelle made out a shadow at the end of the bed, and it was not Ben. Whoever stood there observed her motionless, silent, and for some unknown reason, she did not sense a threatening presence. A gentleman came to her side and poured fluid onto a spoon.

“This will help with the headache.”

He slipped the spoon between her parched lips.

Estelle tried to swallow, but could not help but choke at the bitterness of the medicine.

The man held a glass to her lips and poured some water gently into her mouth. “It has a disgusting taste, but I promise it will do you well. Go back to sleep, my love.”

Why is this man calling me his love? I do not know who he is. Or do I?

Estelle eased back into her pillow, waves of nausea rose from the pits of hell, and the smell of the smoke from the hearth began to irritate her. Yet, the sense that something was terribly wrong remained.

She shivered at a breeze passing over her inexplicably and the heat of someone’s breath hovered by her ear.

“You must get away. Do not let him touch you. He will taint your soul, break your heart, and hell follows him everywhere he goes. Leave while you can.”

Estelle tried to make sense of the words, but they were garbled. Her eyelids weighed heavily, her breathing became deep. She found herself being whisked away to a time before Ben proposed.

“Estelle, wait,” Helen called out from down the street. “If you are going into Mr. Milton’s perfumery, I would love to join you.”

They walked in together and browsed along the proprietor’s counter. The samples wafted up into the floral air, removing any trace of the city stench outside. Exotic scents of jasmine and cinnamon were Estelle’s favorites.

Helen leaned in and whispered, “I just wanted you to know, I will be going away for a few months. I have an ailing relative in the country, but you cannot breathe a word of it to anyone. Not even my brother.”

“Why would I tell your brother?”

“He is…how shall we say—He has formed an unnatural attachment to me, you see. He has also mentioned you in great detail, and has developed a—shh, here he comes.”

She turned around and saw Edwin, who had to be nearly twenty-five now. It was not that he was not handsome or anything. His features were stark and patrician. There was something menacing in his demeanor in the way he walked, and the way he looked at her when he placed his hand on Helen’s shoulder. Estelle curtseyed out of respect, but truth be told, she wanted to leave.

“Miss Humphrey; how delightful to see you again.”

Too soon for her liking.

“Have you been seducing my dear little sister with new perfumes?”

“Not at all. We were only browsing. Mr. Milton is known to have many delightful scents brought in from the Orient and the East Indies,” she said.

He huffed and turned toward Helen. “I see. We need to go. Our uncle will not be pleased to find out we have been longer than we should have.”

Edwin turned away, dragging his sister behind him.

Helen looked back at her and brought a gloved finger to her lips, begging for silence.

“Helen, Edwin, please! Allow me to walk you back to your carriage,” she pleaded, but they kept on walking out of the mercantile and onto the street.

Helen’s request for secrecy was puzzling. She did not understand where in the world it was coming from considering two years passed since their uncle had been charged with their welfare, after their parents’ untimely death in Scotland during a house fire. Edwin had been the sole survivor of the fire, while Helen had been away at school. She had not heard of any ill news from the Earl of Hawthorne’s estate. In fact, if her memory served her right, Lady Cuthbert could not have been more pleased to have more children to dote on while her son attended school abroad.

They finally slowed down allowing Estelle to catch up, but the moment she linked her arm to Helen’s, Edwin pulled her away. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and leaned forward. The foul odor from his breath made her wince. How could one not be offended by such an unhygienic situation?

“I know we have not known each other long, Miss Humphrey, but I do wish to call on you some time. I plan on seeking your papa’s permission to court you, if you would find that agreeable.”

Her stomach turned at the asinine assumption. Helen said something about a carriage moving in their direction. She knew not if Helen was trying to distract her brother, or if she was trying to ask her something. It was not until she tripped and fell forward did she finally feel safe out of his reach.

Estelle recovered from her fall, but by then she was covered in mud. A merchant taking pity on her condition aided her. Edwin tried to assist, but the man told him to take his leave. She got up on her own, but quickly noticed how Helen was leaning away from everyone and shielding her middle.

What in the…

She could not be. Or could she? Helen had never mentioned being with anyone. Heaven prevail! That explained her trip to the country. There had to be another way.

* * * *

Benedict rounded down the hallway, insisting on visiting her. The woman fainted dead away, and while he had carried her to her room, he had been quickly ushered out to allow the maids to undress her and see to her comforts. He worried for her constitution; it was not every day a woman witnessed a suicide. Or was it?

The Met would be swarming the estate within the hour. All the guests were warned not to leave as they’d all be questioned.

Not once in all his thirty years did he expect Gabriel to kill himself. As honest as they came, he never pegged Gabriel the cowardly type. He had even lent a hand with the hired help and his father’s tenants. An all-round genuine fellow, and no matter how one might think they knew a person, it was hard to say what would drive a man to take his own life.

The halls were dark and sparsely lit. Shadows on the parquet flooring moved slowly, as if hellish apparitions rose from the floorboards. He approached a senior footman assigned to Estelle’s door, giving him a quizzical look over, taking note of his features so that he would remember whom he spoke with. “Is there any news?”

The stark footman shook his head. “No, sir. Although, now that you mention it, I do recall hearing some noise a quarter hour ago. She might have briefly woken up for a drink of water.”

“What do you mean she might have? Did you not go in and look on her?”

“No, sir. It wouldn’t be proper. Besides, I was under the impression a maid would have stayed with her.”

Benedict groaned, shoved the footman aside, and opened her door. The room appeared normal but upon further inspection, something did not feel right. He briefly glanced at Estelle to notice she slept soundly. He walked toward the fireplace and stoked the embers. Once satisfied the fire would continue to keep the room warm for a few more hours, he went to her bedside.

Benedict then noticed a single red rose, tied with a black ribbon at the end of the bed.
What in the world?
He picked up the rose, but it was the wrong time of the year for roses, and when he’d seen the gardens earlier, everything had withered away to shades of rust from the cool season that arrived early.
Where did this come from? Who’s been here, and why would they leave this here?

He took her hand into his after throwing the rose onto the nightstand. He brought her warm hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. How he looked forward to marrying her. From their first encounter, Estelle brought him much joy. In one month’s time, he’d start a lifetime with her and show her every day how much he adored her.

Benedict squeezed her hand gently and her eyes opened wide with astonishment. He had startled her, and for that he was sorry.

“Ben, is that you?”

“Yes, it is, my love. How do you feel?”

She mumbled something and then brought her hand to cover her mouth as if she were going to be sick.

“Here, let me get you some water.” When Benedict reached for the glass, he spied a spoon laden with some kind of liquid. He lifted the spoon, bringing it to his nose, and recoiled from the pungent but familiar scent.

“Dearest, did the maids give you laudanum earlier?”

“No,” she replied with a glazed-over look.

Benedict felt the anger rising within him. If a maid had not been in here, then a man had been in her room, but it was not the footman. He would kill the man if he had stepped away from his post. He patted Estelle’s leg and said that he would be back in a moment, leaving her bedside to question the servant. Benedict did not want to alarm her, as the effects of the medicine were still lingering, but he would get to the bottom of why someone would medicate her. Especially, after Gabriel had died in the house.

Did she see something she was not supposed to? He knew not of the answers, but he would be damned and figure them out himself.

“You there,” he announced curtly. “Did you leave your post at all this evening since Miss Humphrey’s arrival to her room?”

“No, sir. Well, I did, but I had a maid stand here in my stead until I returned from the convenience.”

“I would like you to go and fetch a maid. I do not want Estelle alone inside her room. I have errands to run, and I would like to speak with the earl.”

“Certainly, sir. I will fetch the maid right away.”

When the footman turned away and rushed down the corridor, Benedict returned to her bedside to find Estelle trying to get out of bed.

“Stay right where you are, dear. Tell me what you require and I will bring it to you.”

“My shawl, Ben. The room is so drafty.”

Was she mad? The room was stifling to the point he needed to begin removing layers. He loosened his necktie and removed his dinner jacket. After placing the two items on a chair by the door, he returned to her with the shawl.

“Estelle, the windows are closed and it is hotter than the pits of hell in here. If you are unwell, I would like to summon a physician to examine you.”

“No!” she cried out, yanking the crocheted garment from his grip.

Benedict raised his hands in defeat. He had not meant to upset her so, but wanted to understand what ailed her. “I will not call for a physician, but I do not understand how you are saying it is drafty.”

“Ben, I have something to tell you. It might sound odd.”

“Go on.”

“I saw her—Helen…earlier.”

The maid walked in, dropping her tray with a gasp.

“Mary, are you all right?” Estelle asked with concern.

“Excuse me. I will clean up my mess, and bring another tray promptly.”

“My dear, Helen has been gone for a year now. What you are saying is impossible.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I swear it, Ben. Helen spoke to me, and she told me to stay away from him.”

“Him? Who are you referring to, Estelle?”

She shrugged and pulled the covers over her legs.

This has to be the laudanum talking.
Just what was it about this house that was making everyone mad?

The maid returned, this time managing to not drop the tray.

“No one, absolutely no one is to give her any medicine. Someone bloody gave her laudanum, and she is not talking straight. Look at her!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is Lord Cuthbert? I have a need to discuss matters with him requiring immediate attention.”

“In the library, sir; alone and quite angry at the moment. He discovered his favorite vase from the Orient destroyed beyond means of repair. He is in quite the fitting mood and likely to strangle someone. Consider yourself warned, my lord.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, “and I will be sure to remember that last fact before I say something that might infuriate him more.”

Time to prod a bull and see what comes of it
. There was a great mystery at work here and at this point the suspect could be anyone. He needed to discover more about the earl’s dealings, and had to consider all the possibilities. What if there was a guest present who meant to destroy the earl, besides himself? They would of course stand in line, because if anyone would wrap the noose around Lord Cuthbert’s neck, it would be him.

It was mid-afternoon when Benedict reached the earl’s library; a string of curses echoed into the hall. Before entering the room he carefully considered what he should mention to his host. He wanted answers just as much as the next person, but what ate away at him was who could have entered her room and administered the laudanum without even the footman or a maid noticing. One also couldn’t ignore the fact that Gabriel’s death wasn’t mentioned again since that dreadful night. He’d heard some footmen later in the evening saying the body was moved to be collected by the authorities, but nothing more could be heard from where he stood in the shadows. The footmen must have known they weren’t alone. A deception was at play, but who and why?

He considered how mad his future countess would appear if he mentioned her seeing visions of the earl’s dead niece. In fact, they’d probably attempt to dissuade him to marry her as the only place she’d belong was in Bedlam. Nevertheless, it wasn’t what she saw that bothered him as much as the warning she received. Estelle had been dead serious with what she saw. If Helen still haunted these halls, she had been wronged, but by whom? He’d experienced this once before, which was the only reason why Benedict gave merit to his fiancée’s concern in the matter. He’d been very young, but recalled eavesdropping on his father’s staff and secretly following them to the old abandoned stables several yards away from the new construction his father ordered. The dilapidated shack had been set fire to, with a stable hand trapped inside. Some say it was a jealous lovers spat, but all the staff were convinced the poor man haunted it ever since. With each passing minute, more questions emerged, and there wasn’t an answer readily available.