The Victorian Gothic Collection: Volumes 1-3 Page 5

  She appeared haunted, she thought. It was a ghoulish thought, but no less than the truth. And if she appeared that way, then there was no denying that she’d clearly come to the right place. There was obviously something occurring at Cysgod Lys, whether it was the dark and metaphysical things she thought she’d experienced in the middle of the night or something far more corporeal but equally as sinister.

  There had been more shrieking after he had left her, and while it had been indistinct, at times she’d thought she’d heard actual words buried within those inhuman sounds. If there was one thing that Adelaide was entirely certain of, it was that no wind had produced such cries. But she also could not imagine that a person had, for they had been horrifying beyond belief.

  Recalling her own terror and the fact that even more screams and wails had risen through the walls after that darkness had dissipated from her own room, Adelaide had to wonder if perhaps it had not simply spread its torment elsewhere. What was it then? A ghost? A banshee? Some dark entity of unknown origin roaming the halls of Cysgod Lys? She reminded herself to ask what the name of the house meant and to be certain she was pronouncing it correctly. The Welsh language was completely alien to her, after all, and the last thing she wanted to do was offend anyone. It could make things decidedly awkward for her if she did.

  Exiting her room she found herself in a long corridor. She did not know her way, but she imagined that the large coat of arms adorning the wall would be near the staircase and made her way toward it. As she neared it, another door opened further down the hall and a woman emerged. She was lovely in a very typically English way, possessed of soft blonde curls, artfully arranged and that perfect pink and white complexion. It made her only too aware of how pale and washed out she must look given her journey the day before and the hideous black bombazine she wore. It flattered no one in her opinion. A wave of guilt assailed her then. She was not wearing it for her own vanity, was she? But to commemorate the life of her father and to display her respect and admiration for him to the world as she grieved his loss.

  The blonde beauty glanced in Adelaide’s direction and smiled, revealing small, perfect white teeth. They might have been a string of matched pearls for all that, but they did not appear dainty or delicate. Instead, they gave the impression of being rather predatory. “Good morning! Did I see you coming from that room?” she asked, pointing toward the door to Adelaide’s chamber.

  Ignoring her initial misgivings and hoping that she might have a friendly acquaintance in the house beyond the enigmatic man she was to marry and the rather timid maid, Adelaide offered a smile in return. “Yes, I arrived late last night and unfortunately, I fainted for having been a ninny and forgetting to eat anything during the journey. I must confess, I find myself a bit lost.”

  The other woman’s smile turned into a smirk and Adelaide immediately realized that her initial assessment had been correct. This woman was not her friend. She was no one’s friend.

  “You can’t have been too lost. You managed to make your way into Eldren’s bed just fine. Were you afraid he’d change his mind unless you allowed him to seduce you? Or did you, bold American that you are, do the seducing?” The words and tone were biting and cold. Whoever this woman was, she was clearly someone with an agenda of her own.

  “I don’t suppose it would be any of your concern regardless of who seduced whom or if any seduction occurred at all… And who are you precisely?” Adelaide demanded. She was not about to be cowed by a bully like the woman before her. She’d encountered their ilk in New York often enough.

  “I’m Mrs. Frances Llewellyn. I’m married to Eldren’s imbecile brother. Tell me, did you hear her shrieking through the night?”

  Adelaide’s blood ran cold. “Who do you mean?”

  The woman laughed then. “So, he didn’t tell you! Well, never let it be said that I would willingly play fast and loose with the family secrets. Just this once, I’ll keep what I know to myself. Now, I’m off to Bristol since Eldren has decided to turn me out of the house in your honor… Enjoy every wretched, cursed stone in this little corner of hell, Miss Hampton Parke. Enjoy it while you can. Very few people who come here can survive the darkness that is the Llewellyn family and this bedeviled pile of rocks.”

  Adelaide stared on in horror as the vile woman just walked away. What on earth had she meant by all of those dreadful things? She longed to call her back, to demand if she had seen anything such as she had witnessed the night before. But the overwhelming belief that nothing the woman said could be trusted gave Adelaide pause.

  A panel in the corridor wall opened, giving Adelaide such a fright that she screamed and jumped back. Her hand flew to her heart and she stared at Dyllis’ face in that opening. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

  “I’m ever so sorry, miss,” Dyllis replied, instantly contrite. “I stopped on me way down to the kitchen because I heard her saying them things to you. You can’t pay Mrs. Llewellyn no mind. A more miserable and unhappy person I’ve never known. It was her that sent Mr. Waddington for you in that cart. And you were only in Lord Llewellyn’s room because she’d told the servants not to prepare the Rose Room for you like he’d asked. She’d have put you up on the third floor in that tower where you’d have been nothing but a solid block of ice this morning! He meant no disrespect to you, miss.”

  To see Dyllis so very distressed at the notion that someone might believe ill of her master went a long way toward providing the necessary reassurance that Adelaide required. She hadn’t even realized until that moment that she was having second thoughts about going through with the marriage. Of course, the harsh reality of her situation had not changed and aside from facing her fear of sailing again, a fear that left her breathless and weak with the mere thought of it, she had no other options.

  “I am quite all right, Dyllis. It’s very apparent Mrs. Llewellyn simply has a case of the sour grapes.”

  “Sour grapes?”

  “It’s an expression meaning that she is bitter and resentful. It’s from Aesop’s Fables. Have you read them?”

  “Oh, I can’t read, miss. Weren’t no school where I grew up and my mother couldn’t read or write to teach me and my brother.”

  Adelaide’s love of books was something that sustained her. She’d lost count of how many books she’d purchased while recuperating in Cornwall. She’d left them behind, of course, as a donation to the cottage hospital where she had been treated. “Would you like to learn to read, Dyllis? I’d be happy to teach you.”

  The maid smiled sadly. “No, miss, but I thank you. I likely couldn’t learn it anyway, and it might interfere with my duties.”

  “If you change your mind, Dyllis, you have only to say,” Adelaide reiterated before taking the stairs down. At the foot of them, the butler, Tromley, waited.

  “May I show you to the breakfast room, miss?”

  “Yes, Tromley. Thank you… Will Mrs. Llewellyn be at breakfast?”

  “No, miss," the butler said. His expression was utterly neutral as he added, “Mrs. Llewellyn will be departing this morning and the duration of her absence is not yet known.”

  Adelaide nodded thoughtfully. "I see… and is her departure a direct result of her interference in Lord Llewellyn’s travel arrangements for me?”

  The butler remained impassive. “I could not say, miss.”

  He didn’t have to. They walked silently on to the breakfast room, the entrance tucked behind the massive staircase. She would likely have never found it on her own.

  “You will learn the house in time, miss. It must all seem very strange to you,” the butler observed.

  He was a kindlier man than she might have first imagined, based on their initial meeting last night. “I’m certain I will, Tromley. It just may take a bit. Thank you again.”

  Entering the breakfast room, Adelaide’s eyes were drawn to the mountain of food heaped on the sideboard. She wouldn’t eat that much breakfast in weeks, she thought. At the head of the table, Eldren was r
eading a newspaper. No one else was present.

  “Is your brother not joining us for breakfast, my lord?”

  “Eldren,” he corrected. “Or did we not agree to dispense with such formality?”

  Adelaide felt her cheeks heating at the reminder that she had spent several minutes alone with him not just in any bedchamber, but in his bedchamber. “I had assumed that we would do so in private only.”

  “My dear girl, we are in one of the most remote regions of Wales. We have nothing but privacy here,” he answered. “And no, Warren will not be joining us. He imbibes too freely in the evenings to ever rise this early.”

  “I apologize. I should not have asked such an impertinent question.”

  He scoffed at that. “It’s hardly impertinent to make inquires about whether or not you will be sharing a meal with the other members of the household. Warren rarely rises before noon and his she-wolf of a wife has been sent packing. Her interference yesterday and the danger she placed you in for nothing more than her own pettiness and spite were the last straw. Had it not been for your suffering, I might have continued to tolerate her indefinitely. It is my hope that with her gone, my brother will stop drinking himself into a stupor during every moment of his waking hours.” He stopped then, as if realizing he’d said far more than he intended. “Between this house, and the nighttime disruptions, and now my unfortunate lack of tact in discussing private family matters, I’m sure you’ll be asking for the first ship back to New York.”

  “Nighttime disruptions?” She queried.

  “The wind, Adelaide… this house is not conducive to a restful night.”

  “Oh,” she said. It was not the wind. They both knew it. But she lacked the courage to mention the dark shadow that had terrorized her last night. He would think her mad.

  Adelaide had filled her plate far beyond what she could actually consume, but even with only a bite or two of the prepared dishes, it was far more than she could possibly eat. Seating herself near him, hoping she was not breaking some rule of etiquette she’d missed due to her own lack of attention to her governess’ teachings, she replied, “We both know that returning to New York is not an option for me. I have no money to live independently. If I do not marry, the money my father left for me will simply sit there, drawing dust and interest in equal measure I imagine. And while admittedly my arrival and welcome were…unorthodox,” she supplied lamely, “it is a much warmer welcome than I would receive from my stepmother, had I the courage to step foot on a ship and attempt to sail across the Atlantic. I fear that I would only be fit for an asylum before we even lost sight of land.”

  He stared at her intently. “Was it so very bad? The accident? I’ve read the accounts and I know the ship went down very quickly, but I cannot imagine if that would have made the situation easier or more difficult to bear.”

  “It was a greater horror than I can convey. We were eating dinner, and suddenly there was pandemonium. The stewards and crew were running from aft to stern of the ship, gathering women and children. We were on deck, my father put Muriel and myself in line for the lifeboats, but they couldn’t get them launched quickly enough… The ship was in such shallow waters that even when it sank entirely, the rigging and funnel were still above the water. That was where they put us. We perched on those tiny ropes for hours, clinging to them with that black water swirling around us. My father was treading water nearby. I could not see him, but I could hear his voice… and then I couldn’t. I don’t believe he drowned. I think it was the cold more than anything.” Adelaide stopped abruptly, realizing how much she had said. Too much. As a general rule she had elected to not think of the sinking of the Mohegan at all. Of course that did not keep her nightmares at bay. But that was no excuse for making a display of herself and becoming impossibly maudlin in front of him. It had been terrible enough to live through it herself. What sort of person would burden others with such knowledge? “Forgive me. It appears we are both guilty of too much forthrightness this morning.”

  She was unprepared when he reached out and touched her hand, covering it briefly with his. Staring down at that point of contact, she realized how long it had been since she had been touched with any sort of warmth or caring. Looking up, she met his dark gaze and saw the wealth of sympathy in his eyes, but she also saw understanding. “You’ve lost someone too, haven’t you?”

  “We have all had our share of tragedy in life, I think… but yours has been so very recent and on a scale I cannot fathom. To be surrounded by the loss of so many—You have a remarkable strength of character, Adelaide,” he said. Suddenly, as if aware that he was touching her in a fashion that might be too familiar, he withdrew his hand from hers.

  She missed it immediately. That surprised her more than anything. But there was a tension in the room now, a tension between them, that she longed to dispel. “Cysgod Lys. Did I say that correctly?”

  His lips quirked. “Close enough.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Shadow Hall,” he answered.

  It was not at all what she expected him to say. It elicited a shiver from her as she stared at him in horror.

  “Not very inviting, is it? I recommend sticking with the Welsh. We’ll perfect your pronunciation later. For now, we should discuss the arrangement for our coming nuptials. I think Saturday will suffice, if you are in agreement.”

  Suddenly shadowy figures were the furthest thing from her mind. Two days hence. Two days until she would no longer be Adelaide Hampton Parke, but Lady Llewellyn, Countess of Montkeith. The reality of that pressed in upon her and she wondered if she might not faint again. Perhaps she was not so iron willed as she had once imagined. Of course, to delay any longer would be beyond scandalous. She was in his home, after all, and without any sort of chaperone. With Mrs. Llewellyn departing that very morning, they could not afford to wait.

  “Yes, Saturday will be fine… but—,” she stopped unsure what she should say.

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know what to wear. I have a dress that would suffice nicely, but I don’t know whether it’s appropriate to wear black for my wedding or to throw off black for the wedding as I’m still in mourning for my father. I don’t suppose it will matter. There won’t be any guests beyond our witnesses… will there?”

  * * *

  Sitting there, utterly befuddled by the conundrum she faced of whether to wear black or something prettier on their wedding day, Adelaide looked young. Too young for him to be sure. It was the first time since her arrival that she had done so. The weight of her father’s death and the horror that she’d endured in those dark hours in the water awaiting rescue had taken a toll on her. That was quite clear to him. But in that moment, she looked precisely what she was—a pretty girl of eighteen who was far too young and innocent for a man like him and for a place like Cysgod Lys.

  He would marry her regardless, of course, assuming she’d agree to the terms. She had little choice in the matter for she had no where else in the world to go. For himself, it was now a matter of honor as to refuse would see her reputation irreparably damaged. He’d be her husband or find her one.

  “No. There will be no other guests save for my brother and my solicitor who will act as our witnesses… and you must wear whatever you wish, Adelaide. It’s my understanding that every bride wants to feel special and pretty on their day. I think that your father would approve, whatever choice you make, so long as you are happy with it,” he said.

  “Thank you, Eldren. That’s very kind of you to say. I will make a decision later today.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he produced the small leather box that held the ornate diamond and emerald ring that had belonged to his grandmother. “I had thought to use this as your betrothal ring. It’s a family piece. If you’d like something more modern, more suited to your tastes, we can get it for you, though our options will be somewhat limited as the nearest jeweler of note is in Cardiff.”

  She accepted the box, opened it and then her ey
es lit up. He suspected most women were appreciative of shiny, pretty things.

  “It’s lovely. But are you certain you wish for me to wear something so valuable? It’s clearly been in your family for sometime and… well, perhaps Mrs. Llewellyn would—.”

  “If Frances put that ring on her finger my grandmother would spin like a top in her grave,” he replied. “No. If it’s to your liking, wear it. If it needs to be altered to fit your hand, there is a jeweler in Chester that should be able to take care of at least that. I’ll be heading there tomorrow to check in on a salt mine that my family has operated there for years. It appears to be played out but I want to be certain of that before I give the order to shut it down.”

  “And if it is played out? What happens to the people working there?”

  “I will attempt to find them other employment in my various enterprises. I will try to keep as many of them on as I can,” he stated. “Adelaide, there are other things we must discuss about our upcoming marriage… but there are too many servants with prying eyes and ever listening ears. I have business this morning that cannot be delayed, but this evening, I thought we might go for a walk if the weather permits and we can discuss our expectations of one another.”

  The simple truth was that he had no notion of how to tell her theirs would never be a real marriage. He would never share her bed. Both of them would be bound to a chaste life because he would not risk the mental infirmities, along with other torments, that plagued his family being passed on to another generation. And he would have to explain to her what must be done should those same infirmities ever come to light in him. He would not live that way and he would not curse her to do the same. But she was a young woman, a woman who through no fault of her own would be denied any chance at love or passion. To ask her to commit to such a thing without allowing her to know the full extent of precisely what she would be tying herself to would make him the worst sort of scoundrel.