The Mistress of Trevelyan (45 page)

Something in her voice alerted me. Something told me what she was going to do. I ran toward her. "Don't," I yelled, grabbing for her. I caught her wrist, and the gun fell to the floor.

"No! Let me fly!" Constance screamed and kicked me.

The blow hit me in the stomach, and I doubled forward, coming precariously close to the window ledge. Then, as if she knew I would fall, too, Constance pulled hard, jerking me toward her. I let go of her wrist and fought for balance, trying to save myself, all too aware of the smile on Constance's face as she disappeared from view. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring me in the room.

"Titania. Dear God," Benedict breathed, pulling me into his arms. I turned to him, burying my face against his chest, trying to shut out the image of Constance's fall.

"Watch out!" Stephen shouted. Benedict turned. Looking up, I saw Maria pointing a gun toward Benedict and me. She fired at the same time that Mr. Henderson grabbed her arms and Stephen barreled into Benedict and me, knocking us to the floor. The shot went wild, shattering the window over our head.

Disarmed now, Maria sat on the floor, rocking back and forth, reciting repeatedly. "The Spider and the Fly."

"She will not be needing this where she is going to go," Mr. Henderson said, handing Benedict my mother's gun after everyone stood but Maria.

"The sooner she's institutionalized, the better," Benedict said with disgust.

"I will take Maria downstairs and call the authorities. They will need to see Constance's body before we move her," Mr. Henderson said. He was a man burdened by death and regret as he looked sadly at Benedict. "We will need to talk, but it can wait. And when I leave, I will not return." He looked at me. "You have a new life now—don't lose it." We all stood silent as Mr. Henderson pulled a now docile Maria up from the floor and took her out of the room. Maria never stopped mumbling about the spider and the fly. I shivered.

"Christ," Stephen said, looking at Benedict "I don't believe this. I thought you had killed Francesca ... or that she had been driven to kill herself by your disgust.  I never dreamed Constance killed her sister."

"She was a troubled lass," Mr. McGuire said, speaking for the first time as he shook his head. I had almost forgotten his presence. He moved over to me, peering at me through his spectacles, his watery blue eyes filled with worry. "Ye have had a time of it, haven't ye, lass."

"I am all right," I said, and patted his arm. Though I had to admit my mind was still reeling.

"This wouldna have happened if I hadn't been taken in by her sweet smile at first. The lass kept returning to the shop for this book or that. She heard us speak of Dr. Levinworth, that day she came with you. That's what made her suspicious. Ye remember, Ann, lass?"

I nodded, swallowing the lump of emotion in my throat. It would have been so easy for Constance to have killed Mr. McGuire, and it was I who had placed him in danger.

Mr. McGuire sighed softly. "The lass kept coming to the shop and asking questions, and talking about her life in a strange way. Then there was Puck. Every time she entered he quoted, 'Et tu, Brute?' Caesar's last words to his betrayer. Puck has never consistently quoted the same thing to the same person every time. I grew more suspicious and telegraphed the lass's hometown, making inquiries. My answers came Saturday, telling all about the troubled lass's past and the questions about whether the fire that killed her parents was indeed an accident. When you didna come on Saturday, I had Manuelo go ask about you. He found out from a maid that you'd been injured, but were going to be all right. I dinna like it one bit. So I sent ye a note with the story about her past and the fire, but it was apparently delivered to Mr. Trevelyan instead."

Benedict sighed. "Stephen and I were arguing, and I opened the note on my desk without reading to whom it was addressed. After seeing the information, I realized it was addressed to you. We went to Mr. McGuire's to ask a few questions, not quite believing that Constance had lived with us for years and yet had never spoken of her past hurt, and the disturbing things about the fire. Mr. McGuire didn't believe you were unharmed, and I insisted on his returning here to see for himself. I nearly died when we came up the drive and I saw the tower lit and the windows opened."

I shook myself as a shiver ran down my spine. If Mr. McGuire hadn't sent his letter, if Benedict hadn't returned when he did, I wasn't sure if I would have escaped Constance's trick.

"The children," I gasped.

"What?" Benedict cried, grabbing my arm.

"They were not in their beds. We were searching for them. That's how Constance lured me to the tower. She said she thought they were up here."

Dobbs barreled into the room, his hair in tufts and his ascot askew. "We have searched the whole house. The children are not here."

"Cesca," I cried. "The stables! Maria said Robert and Justin had run from the bad witch, and she could not catch them. It's a game Robert and Justin played with their wooden horses."

Benedict grabbed a lamp. "God help us if they've ridden off on Cesca. They could ride right over the cliffs in this rain," he shouted as he ran out the door, Stephen right behind him, and I followed them in my bare feet I had no idea when and where I lost my slippers. We burst out of the house into the soaking rain, heedless of the lashing wind. Entering the stables, Benedict ran to the end and came to a halt at the last stall. Cesca's stall

He didn't say anything, but I saw his shoulders slump, and my heart dropped. The boys mustn't be there. I ran to him. He turned and opened his arms, embracing me, and I didn't care that Stephen and Dobbs were there to see.

"They are here," he said softly. Looking into the stall, I saw Robert and Justin and Cesca, lying in the hay, snuggled up against Cesca's side. They were all asleep. They'd put a saddle on her—at least, they had tried to. The saddle hung off to one side.

Justin opened his eyes and saw us. "Miss Lovell, we were responsible. We did not take her out into the dark where she might get hurt. We stayed with her, and she kept us safe from the bad witch."

Leaving Benedict, I went to Justin, knelt by him, and kissed him on the top of his head, tears filling my eyes. "Oh, Justin, I am very proud of you. You did the right thing, and now the bad witch is gone."

"Promise?" Robert said, opening his eyes.

"Promise," Benedict said, kneeling next to me, and pulling Robert to him.

Benedict wrapped his other arm around me, his body shaking with emotion. "Miss Lovell, I've come to the conclusion that marrying for social or financial conditions has brought nothing but pain to the Trevelyan name. The only practical thing I can do at this point is to marry for love. Will you marry me, Titania?"

I shook my head, trying to force a no to my lips.

"Yes, she will," Stephen broke in. "And if she says no, you will shout your love from the treetops. You will lay siege to her self-imposed prison. You will do whatever it takes to show her the depth of your love. You won't accept the fate that she believes, you will show her there's a future for you both."

I smiled tearfully as Stephen repeated back to me what I had told Mr. Simons to do to make Katherine realize his love. To make her know that nothing else mattered. I had asked Katherine if love or fear was greater in her heart, and now I had to answer the question myself.

"Well, Titania? Will you marry me?"

Robert and Justin were looking at me with their hearts in their eyes. My mouth went dry, and my heart hammered with hope as I met Benedict's gaze. Given the heartache I'd learned of tonight, how so many lives had been wasted or damaged by what I thought to be more important than love, how could I turn from love myself? "Benedict, it is a good thing that I'm a practical woman. And it is even more important that I love you. Nothing else matters. Yes, I will marry you."

I never imagined that I'd be asked to be the mistress of Trevelyan Hill, and I most assuredly never dreamed it would be when I was on my knees in a stable before a horse. It was a good thing I had such a strong constitution.

E
PILOGUE

Four weeks later...

"Miss Wovell, can I call you Mommy yet?" Robert asked, running into my room where Katherine was helping me dress in my wedding finery. Today she would be my maid of honor, and next week I would return the favor by being her matron of honor. But after the nausea I had been suffering from every morning this past week, I might have to ask them to have an evening wedding rather than a morning one.

He skidded to a stop, his eyes widening as he saw me. "Miss Wovell, you are so beautiful," he said; then he frowned. "What's that funny thing on your head?"

"A veil," I said, ruffling his hair. "And to answer your question, yes, you can call me Mommy, or Mommy Ann, or Miss Ann, whatever your heart tells you to do." He'd asked the question no less than a hundred times in the past weeks, and I always gave him the same answer, but he wanted to wait until the "official" moment that his father and I became Mr. and Mrs. Benedict Trevelyan.

A quiet knock on the door brought my gaze up to see Justin enter the room. He had a proud smile on his face. "Miss Lovell, I picked this one just for you. Grandmother let me. It was one of my grandfather's favorites. He brought it back from Beluze, France. It is called 'Souvenir de La Malmaison.' It is named after a famous lady's house, but I forgot her name."

"Thank you, Justin. This is so beautiful," I said, taking the huge, pale pink bloom from him. Justin's "science book" now included drawings of a number of the different kinds of roses in the Trevelyan gardens, and he and his father were reading Benedict's father's book together. That Benedict's mother let one of the garden's blooms be picked in my honor would probably be the only gesture of approval that she'd give to the wedding, but it was enough.

"I took all the thorns away. This time I wanted to give you the rose."

Wrapping my arms around Justin and Robert, I gave them a big hug. "Both of you have already given me so many roses in my heart that my garden will bloom forever."

I pushed aside the fancy bouquet I was going to carry down. "This is all the flowers I need," I said, holding up the rose Justin gave me.

Katherine tapped me on the shoulder, indicating that it was time to go down, and I sent the boys ahead. Then she handed me a handkerchief, and I dabbed at the tears in my eyes and took a sip of water to ease my queasiness. Having only dry toast for breakfast this morning helped.

"Thank you," Katherine signed to me.

"You are welcome," I signed back. "But what are you thanking me for?"

"For coming into our lives and bringing love back to us."

I shook my head. "You all already had the love in your hearts."

"But you set us free."

"I just opened the doors your grief had closed."

"And showed us the way to our hearts. Now hurry, my brother is waiting for you."

I laughed. "You just want to see Anthony." Katherine smiled and signed back, "Yes."

Sunshine cleared the morning mists from Trevelyan Hill and burst through the stained glass windows, bathing Benedict and all those gathered to witness our wedding with dancing hues of color. Mr. McGuire escorted me to Benedict's side.

It seemed like an eternity ago that I'd climbed the steps to Trevelyan Manor and first met the master of Trevelyan Hill. His voice was just as deep and thrilling to me as it had been on the very first day. His scent of sandalwood and leather was just as intoxicating, and the man himself was infinitely more distracting because I now knew some of the pleasures hidden beneath the elegant cut of his suit, and looked forward to "thousands" more. How I had ever thought his eyes were too dark for a woman to see through to his to soul was beyond me. For as I looked into his eyes now, I saw the heart of an honorable man with a wealth of love for me. And as I took his hand to face the minister, I considered myself a rich woman, one who had always been rich, blessed with love. I was also a woman with a secret I was eager to share with Benedict

Katherine held Robert's hand and stood beside me. But her gaze wasn't on the minister; she was looking at Anthony, her heart shining in her eyes.

Stephen and Justin stood next to Benedict.  Mrs. Trevelyan looked on; her expression had progressed to reserved instead of dour. I knew only time would show her that love would heal all. Well, perhaps not all. I didn't think anything would help Dobbs's sour disposition, but I quite looked forward to keeping him on his toes with lots of little ones to run rambunctiously through the house making sunshine.

Benedict brought my hand to his lips as we waited for the minister to finish speaking, and whispered under his breath to me, "Titania, my queen. Why is it that you are more ravishing than ever?"

I think an imp from my fairy queen heritage got hold of me, for I decided to ruffle Benedict's calm. "They did not work," I whispered.

He furrowed his brow, confused by my reply.

"Our contraceptive instruments."

His dark eyes widened as his gaze connected with mine. A gleam not unlike that of the sun glinting off the demon door filled his eyes with light, letting me see the joy in his soul. "Indeed?"

"I expect there will be more and more of me to ravish in the weeks ahead."

"That's like Ambrosia upon my soul," he said.

"Ambrosia? Truly?" My body tingled as I remembered his penchant for the unusual, which had taken us both by surprise.

"I suggest we get this wedding underway before I am overcome with passion, and sweep you away to the bedroom."

"That would be the most practical thing to do, Mr. Trevelyan."

He lifted a questioning eyebrow that melted my insides. "The wedding or the bedroom, Miss Lovell?"

"Both," I said breathlessly as he swept me up in his arms.

Benedict glanced at the stairs, then at the minister.

The minister, seeing Benedict changing everything we'd rehearsed, stopped his "We are gathered here" speech. I think that after taking one look, the man knew he was about to lose the bride and groom. Being a practical man, he quickly performed an abbreviated version of the marriage ceremony, before Benedict scandalously swept me away.