Shivers Box Set: Darkening Around Me\Legacy of Darkness\The Devil's Eye\Black Rose (23 page)

Tynan’s face told the story of his dawning understanding. “But they will be watching me,” he said when he could speak at last. “They will expect to see the familiar patterns of mania.”

He rose to his feet and we stood there, just gazing at each other as the awful reality of what we were both thinking became apparent. “You must give them that. Pretend. Follow the script they have written for you. Only you and I can know the truth.”

“My God, Lucy. I hardly dare hope you are right. But if you are, do you realise what this means?” He was the one shaking now.

I nodded. “You are not mad.”

“More than that. It means I have a future.”

* * *

I became a scholar of the moon. I raided the castle library and devoured any material that made reference to that mysterious heavenly body. Alongside scientific texts about its phases, I read moon-related myths, legends and ghost stories. One very old text contained a bookmark inside a chapter related to lunatics, a word which was derived from the Latin
luna
, or moon. The descriptions of aberrant behaviour could almost have been written about Uther’s vivid description of Tynan’s madness. I turned the embroidered bookmark over in my hand. The word
Demelza
had been stitched into it in flowing script, surrounded by artfully crafted pansies and roses.

Tynan could not fight Uther and Demelza. Thwarted by Maggie Scadden’s tenacity, they, the people who proclaimed their protection of him, had been unable to murder him while he was still an infant. Instead they had carefully painted a picture of him as a tortured soul engulfed in madness. Who would believe Tynan? There was no one to speak up for him, no one to fight his corner.

“Unless, of course, you had a wife,” I told him as we sat on our favourite rose-garden bench, discussing the matter in quiet whispers. He had played his part well, and his aunt and uncle appeared to have no suspicion that his debilitating headaches of the last few days had been feigned.

“Who knows?” he said with that self-mocking little twist to his lips. “I may meet the woman of my dreams tonight, while I am out howling at the moon.”

“Be sensible,” I said sternly, and he grinned.

“How can I? When Uther has worked so hard to convince me that
sensible
is the one thing I am not?”

“Don’t you see? Once you are twenty-one, if you were married, your wife would be your advocate. Uther would have no power over you. Even if he tried to have you declared insane, your wife could refute those claims.”

“So all I need to do now is find a suitable woman, convince her that I am not mad, woo her desperately and get her up the aisle before my twenty-first birthday. A bit of a tall order, but I still have two weeks in which to accomplish it.” His hand raked his hair in a familiar gesture of frustration.

I remained silent, my eyes fixed on his face. Wonder began to dawn in his own eyes as he studied my expression. A question began to form on his lips, but before he could speak it, the words burst from me in a rush. “They want
me
to marry you. It has been their plan all along, the only reason Demelza brought me here.” I told him everything, the plan to marry us and get a Jago heir before having him declared insane. I stopped short of relating Uther’s suggestion that Tynan would be persuaded—or forced—to kill himself. I could not speak those words aloud. “Until now, I have refused to submit to their outrageous wishes. But, if you would have me, this could be your way out of here.”

“If I would have you?” The words seemed to freeze in his throat. “Yes, I will have you, but…you would really do this, Lucy? For me? You would make this sacrifice?”

I took his face between my hands. “I will do this, Tynan, for you, but also for myself. And know this, my dearest, it is not out of sacrifice.”

“I…” The emotion in his eyes rendered him unable to finish. My breath caught in my throat.

I leaned forward and pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t say it,” I whispered. “Not yet. Not here. Let us leave this place, get away from the madness that pervades its walls and then, my love, there will be all the time in the world for us to draw our memories onto the blank canvas of a new life.”

* * *

The moon was full and Tynan was once more chained in his room. My heart ached that I could not go to him, but I knew a fierce pride when I heard how well he was playing his part. Grim-lipped, Uther described the convulsions that racked his body and the violent rage that consumed him.

Demelza’s eyes were shadowed as she spoke. “It appears he is worse than ever this month. I hardly dare ask you again, Lucy. You have made your repugnance toward the suggestion abundantly plain. But our only chance to save our name is fading fast….”

“Very well,” I said quietly. “I will do it. I will marry Tynan.”

Uther, who had been reading the newspaper shot a sideways glance at me, but said nothing. He met Demelza’s eyes. Triumph blossomed blood-like and brief between them before he drew dark, enigmatic shutters closed once more.

When Demelza had gone, he rose from his seat and stood over me. Wordlessly, he held out his hands and, playing my part, I placed my fingertips in them. He drew me to my feet. The unnerving sensation that his eyes could bore into my mind, my very soul, assailed me once more.

“Why?” he said simply.

“Because
you
wish it,” I replied simply, raising worshipful eyes to him. His features hardened, and my heart gave an uncomfortable thud. I had to make him believe I was still his devoted acolyte. Tynan’s life, and my own, depended now upon my ability to play this loathsome part.

“And now the truth, please, Lucy.” His tone was cold.

I moved closer so that we were almost, but not quite, touching. “I am yours, Uther, I belong to you. I have no other will than yours.” As his hands moved to circle my waist, I laughed. “And you were right, of course. I have no desire to pass my days in servitude to anyone other than you.”

As his mouth swooped down on mine, I forced my body to cleave sinuously to the contours of his. Uther’s low, masculine purr of possession informed me that my acting skills had, on this occasion, passed the test.

* * *

I made ready for the last night I would spend in my maiden’s bed. When I closed the curtains, a lopsided, waning moon smiled down at me. Whether it was benevolent or mocking would remain to be seen. Sleep was not to be mine that night. Joy is not less restless than sorrow, and both emotions surged through me: joy, that amid this darkness I had found the richness of true love; sorrow, that Tynan and I were alone, that those who loved us were gone. Before we could be happy, we had to face a harsh world and a formidable enemy. Underlying these conflicting emotions was a constant ripple of fear. Until now Uther had been one step ahead of us. He could never suspect how far I had unbound my soul from the force of his love. I believed I had succeeding in playing the role of his smitten puppet well. If I was wrong, the consequences would be without mercy.

Morning burned the mist of my sleepless night away. My wedding day dawned. The most important event in a woman’s life. The day her mother, if she has one, prepares her for from the moment of her birth. How different was this day for me! Soon I would exchange promises to love and to hold with the man I adored. But I would do so whilst in fear for both our lives.

Miss Clatterthorpe’s skilled fingers had fashioned my simple gown of silk and lace. There had been no time—and on my part, no inclination—for anything grander. I carried white roses bound up with ribbons, and several of the exquisite blooms nestled in my hair, holding in place the delicate veil that covered my face.

For Tynan this day was doubly memorable. It was his twenty-first birthday.

I had told Tynan all about my passionate encounters with Uther. I did not want there to be secrets between us as there had between his parents. As I stammered out the words, my cheeks aflame, he drew me close into his embrace and held me there for long minutes. Eventually, he pressed warm lips to my temple and said quietly, “Poor Lucy.” And without further words, we were agreed that it would never be mentioned again. The past slid quietly away. We had both, after all, in very different ways been pawns in the dangerous, masterful hands of Uther Jago. I had allowed myself to be manipulated by him. I had enjoyed it! I quaked inside to recall how much, but my body had been thirsty and he, knowing it, had quenched that thirst.

We planned our escape in great detail. “They will not expect us to leave during our wedding night,” I pointed out.

“No, they will believe us to be otherwise engaged,” Tynan agreed with a wry, sideways glance at me. He caught my hand and pressed a burning kiss into my palm. “Whenever I wake from a dream of touching your face, my desolate bed becomes even lonelier. I cannot wait to call you mine in truth, Lucy-love.”

I teased him. “Strive for a little patience, my poet. It will be worth the wait.”

He groaned aloud and drew me into his arms. Pausing with his mouth just an inch above mine, his voice was hesitant as he asked, “May I kiss you?” My heart gave a sad little jerk, remembering other kisses. Assured, ungentle caresses that asked no permission. I nodded as my eyelids fluttered closed. Tynan’s lips were soft and shy against mine, and I gave myself up to him. Our mouths opened, moving together in natural, timeless rhythm. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart, taste the freshness of his mouth. I reached up and tangled my hands in the fine silk of his hair. My own heart was buffeted wildly on a wave of surging sensation. I confess I had been scared of what this moment would bring. Part of me wondered would I forever compare Tynan to Uther and find him lacking? Or perhaps Uther’s presence would stay with me, dark and brooding, reminding me of all that we had shared? But I was wrong! My spirits soared like a young bird in flight, free at last from the restraints Uther Jago had placed on me.

We broke apart, both of us trembling. Tynan rested his cheek against the top of my head. “My first kiss,” he said with a shaky little laugh.

“Mine, too,” I replied. “Well, the first that was true.” We stood very still, breathing each other in. Everything that had gone before had led me to this. The clock only moves forward. I knew that Tynan’s would be the lips I would want from this moment until the end of forever. It could only be possible to feel this way once in a lifetime.

“Well, now we’ve dispensed with that little formality and found that we quite like it, perhaps we should get some more practice in?”

I held him off with my hands against his chest. “We have important plans to make, sir,” I reminded him mockingly.

“That’s exactly what I
was
doing!” he protested, but he tucked my arm through his and we strolled into the rose garden.

To organise carriage or horses would be to alert the servants to our plans. It was a short step from the servants to Demelza, and an even shorter one from her to Uther. So the Earl and Countess of Athal must steal away like a couple of thieves and, overnight, trudge the long road to Wadebridge. From there we would take the train to Bodmin and onward. Our goal was London. Once there, we could begin the long legal fight that would be necessary to claim Tynan’s rightful inheritance. I wanted Uther and Demelza brought to justice for their infamous deeds, but Tynan was not yet convinced on that score. The Jago name must be protected for our children, he argued. We decided to leave that conversation for another, safer time.

Money was a problem. I had enough cash to get us to London, but we would need to find accommodation there. Sadly, we decided that Eleanor’s jewels must be sold once we reached the capital. I liked to think that Tynan’s mother would be happy that she could provide the means of securing her beloved son’s freedom from Tenebris.

“
My a’th kar
. I love you,” I whispered, and squeezed Tynan’s hand. “After tomorrow, my love, we will be gone from this place and our lives can begin in truth.”

* * *

The chapel had been thrown open to Mrs Lethbridge’s ministrations. The servants, although appearing to sense that this occasion was a strange one, had entered into the spirit of the day. Garlands of ivy and white flowers were woven through the heavy balustrade of the grand staircase and the servants wore white rosettes on their uniforms. Vases filled with camellia, the flower of promise, and sweetly scented jasmine adorned every surface. My mind, normally so practical, sought a deeper meaning and was comforted by thoughts of light, purity and heaven.

When I entered the chapel, the cool dimness coupled with the veil over my face created an odd illusion. Two men waited for me close to the altar, but in the blurred light I saw only one. He was tall and broad of shoulder, with the lithe, sinister restlessness of a beast in a cage. The meaning in Uther’s gaze could chill the warmest summer breeze. With relief, my eyes found Tynan at his side. My love, my only.

Demelza stood close by, clad in her favourite scarlet; a line from an old rhyme about wedding clothes flitted incongruously through my mind:
white, white chosen right; red, red wish you were dead
. I shivered and was grateful when Tynan’s warm hand clasped my cold one as we knelt before the altar. The vicar was reed thin and colourless, with an unpleasant nasal whine that grated on my already jangling nerves. The parish clerk sat close by, watching the proceedings with a jaundiced eye. His pen scratched over the page and I wanted to shout at him to just—for the Lord’s sake!—stop writing while the ceremony was underway.

It was all over in the blink of an eye. The new, unfamiliar weight of the gold band made me hold my hand differently. Helping me to my feet, my husband put back my veil and pressed a chaste kiss onto my chilled lips. I was the Countess of Athal, mistress of Tenebris. Tradition demanded that the bride must sign her maiden name on the register. I stared long and hard at the words
Lucia Alleyne
. Already my signature appeared unfamiliar, as if it belonged to someone else.

Demelza fluttered over to congratulate us and kiss my cheek. “Lucy, dearest! Or should I say ‘Your Ladyship’?” She tittered girlishly. “I declare, my sweet, you look quite dreadfully pale!”