The Burning (9 page)

Rubius again placed his hand on Stephan’s head. It was heavy. “Do you agree?”

Stephan took a breath. This was his only chance to atone. If his penance seemed more onerous than he expected, that was only right. Had he secretly wanted to escape the full consequence of his failures? “I embrace it.”

“Go then. Your training begins tonight.”

Stephan rose. Two of the daughters drifted forward and each took one arm. Deirdre cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. Her eyes were flat and hard. She was the oldest. He could tell by her vibrations. They were pure and high, almost beyond feeling. That meant she was far more powerful than he was. “Your training will be rigorous,” she said. And she smiled. A ripple of fear trembled through him. But it did not matter. His was the crime. His soul was already tattered with it. He deserved whatever lay ahead. At this point he had one hope of salvation, and it lay beyond whatever these women had planned for him
.

They escorted him through the door. He did not look back. It shut behind him
.

Stephan pressed his temples with his thumbs. No good to think about it, unless to invoke his lessons. He knew his way. If that way was sometimes hard, it was no more than he
deserved. He felt the sun beating on the shutters. Sleep. He needed sleep before he rose and went in search of an estate agent. That did not mean that sleep would be soon in coming.

Ann turned over in her bed, gasping. The dream still felt so real! She was drenched in it. Images, feelings, still trembled in the air around her. Her night shift clung to her damply.

She had been in a dark place. She could only dimly make out the face above her. It was the face of her nameless rescuer, the pain in his expression now replaced by heat. That was the only thing she could name it. She was almost burned by it. And she
wanted
to be burned. She could feel his breath on her face. The air was close in the room. He reached out to touch her. And she didn’t warn him away. She didn’t shrink from his touch. She put her own hand up to cup his cheek, knowing what would happen.

Nothing happened. No drenching roar of experience. His skin was smooth, hot to the touch. She had never felt another’s flesh like that, slowly, calmly. He pushed her gown from her shoulders. Heat pooled between her legs at his touch. She was burning inside. And then somehow, as it is in dreams, she was naked and he was naked and she was feeling his body all over, touching skin and the curling hair on his chest, and soft nipples that roused themselves under her fingertips. And he leaned down and lifted her head. His lips brushed hers . . .

God! What was she thinking? She opened her eyes, blinking.

Light leaked into the room from the outside. Her narrow nursery bed was disheveled, quilts tossed about, a pillow on the floor. The room looked small and ordinary. She stilled her breathing. She had had these kinds of dreams before. It was no doubt a result of the solitary life she led. Or an example of her sinful nature. They could be banished with a
force of will. She steadied her breathing. But had they ever been this intense, this real?

She got up deliberately and threw back the curtains from the small windows to let light bathe her in reality. She could hardly credit the things she had seen in the forest last night now. What was real was Uncle Thaddeus being carried up to his bedroom, the doctor’s grim pronouncement, her sitting with him through most of the night. The stress had caused her to have disturbing dreams. Hardly unusual.

Looking out the window, she couldn’t see the sun, but she realized it must be noon at least from the shadows in the garden far below. She pulled on her dressing gown and hurried out into the hall. She must see how her uncle did. She came flying down the stairs and almost bumped smack into Van Helsing. She lurched back before she could touch him.

“Oh, ho! Cousin, how do you do this morning?”

“Uh, well . . . well. Thank you, sir,” she said, gasping. She’d almost forgotten him.

“Erich, please,” he chided her. “Do you breakfast? We could go down together.”

At close range she saw that he did not clean his teeth properly and hadn’t for a long time. His teeth were stained, his gums lined with soft whitish grit. It made his breath smell. She took a step backward. “No. That is, I must check on my uncle.”

Van Helsing raised his brows. “I daresay he’s out hunting or some such. He seems to be an early riser.”

“My uncle has had a heart attack . . . Erich,” she said coldly. “He is not out hunting.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t suppose he’ll be joining us, then.” Van Helsing saw her shock. Immediately he pulled an expression of utmost sadness across his face like a curtain. “Do you need anything, Cousin? Can I go for a doctor? You can count on me in your hour of need.”

“No, nothing,” she said tightly. Then her temper got the
best of her. “But you can stay away from the servants, if that wouldn’t be too much to ask.”

“What?” His look of surprise turned ugly. The fish eyes narrowed and gleamed with malice. It was as though he had removed a mask. Ann took a step back involuntarily.

She swallowed. She had to follow through for Alice’s sake. “I think you’ve been importuning Alice, and I . . . I won’t have her persecuted.”

“That slut?” He sneered. “She quite threw herself at me. She started the game.”

He didn’t even pretend to deny it! “It is a woman’s prerogative to call halt.”

“She said she liked it rough and then didn’t have the courage to follow through.” Here he leered at her. “When a man is roused, it ain’t so easy to call halt. You might remember that.”

Ann sucked in a breath to steady her voice. “You will leave this house, sir.”

He laid his finger aside his nose and cocked his head. “Brockweir invited me. And he’s in no condition, apparently, to tell me to go. So I’ll be staying. And I wouldn’t worry about the kitchen slut. Unless you want to take her place?”

Ann was so deeply shocked she could hardly think what to say. “I’ll . . . I’ll have the servants—”

“And I’ll have them clapped up in gaol for assault.” He took a step forward, looming over her. His breath made the room seem stifling. “And don’t think about the magistrate. Who would believe a word you say? You’re a loon. Everybody says so.”

All at once the mask slipped back in place. He blinked, smiled. His shoulders relaxed. “So, I’ll be off. Back in time for dinner.” He turned and skipped down the stairs.

Ann stood, shaking. It was worse, far worse than she had even imagined. And the most horrible part was that he was
right. She’d have to send Alice away from here. She glanced down the hall toward her uncle’s room. Her only option was to convince her uncle to throw him out. She strode toward the door. When she opened it and saw him lying there, her resolve faltered. His countenance looked remarkably gray. Only his eyes showed signs of life.

She steadied herself and smiled at him. “You gave us quite a fright.”

He smiled tenuously. “I’ll be up and about in no time.” Ann doubted that. His voice was a throaty shadow of itself. His face looked sunken, somehow, among the folds of flesh.

“Whatever possessed you to come out after me last night?” she asked tenderly.

“They came looking for you here when Molly was missing.”

They would of course. The villagers blamed her for every calamity, from failed crops to stillborn calves.

“You were not in your rooms. I was afraid . . .” He drew his brows together. Even that seemed an effort. “I know you like to roam about at night, but you must stay inside. You saw how dangerous it is.”

He didn’t know how dangerous the house had become. “Of course,” she soothed.

“I’ll have Jennings lock you in the nursery. Best for everyone.” He raised his hand off the counterpane an inch or two to stop her protest. “Now, that’s not too much to ask.”

It was, but she couldn’t argue with him or worry him in his current state. She couldn’t tell him about Erich. She was alone in this.

“They’ll all feel better about you . . . leave you alone,” he murmured. He began to drift. She could see it in his eyes. “Let Erich take care of you, since I can’t.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Nice boy . . .” And he drifted off to sleep.

Ann took on Alice’s aunt, Mrs. Creevy, to watch Uncle Thaddeus when she couldn’t be there. The woman needed the money, so she accepted the position, though she made signs against the evil eye when she took her first payment, in advance.

Then Ann went down to the kitchen to see Alice. She couldn’t let a dependent of hers be abused in her own house. She engaged the help of Mrs. Simpson and they caught Alice as she came in with a basket full of fresh-laid eggs.

“Miss Van Helsing wants to talk to you, Alice,” Mrs. Simpson ventured.

“Wot? I ain’t done nothin’, I swears.” The girl’s swollen eyes widened.

Ann smiled. “Of course you haven’t done anything wrong, Alice. I’m afraid some wrong has been done you.”

Her eyes went frightened for a single moment before she looked at the ground and shook her head. “No. Nothin’, nothin’ ain’t been done to me.”

“Won’t you tell me about it?” Ann cajoled. “I can help, you know.”

At the expression of sympathy, the girl’s eyes filled. “I can’t, miss. He’ll . . .”

Ann took two steps toward her, before she met the invisible barrier she always placed between herself and others. She softened her voice again. “My cousin can’t do anything to you while you are under my protection. I’ll send you away . . .”

“No, don’t do that, miss. I swears, I aren’t that kind. I never woulda . . .’cept . . .”

Ann held out a hand and made soft, shushing sounds. “You mistake, Alice. I meant that I’ll find you a safe place, and I’ll pay you full wages, and as soon as he’s gone you can come right back to your job here.” She should just leave it at
that. But she wanted to know. What had Erich done? Raped the girl? She doubted he’d have had to rape Alice.

“I”—Alice sniffed—“I thought he just wanted . . . well, you know. I likes a bit of that meself. But then . . .” Here she started to cry in earnest.

“It’s all right, Alice.” Ann wished she could put her arm around the girl’s shoulders.

Mrs. Simpson guided Alice to a chair. She sat with difficulty and let out a little moan.

Ann’s brows drew together. “What did he do to you, Alice?” She had to know.

The girl’s coarse features were lost behind the handkerchief she held to her mouth. “Oh, I couldn’t never tell you that, miss.”

Ann made her voice as soothing as she could. “Yes you could, Alice. You can tell me anything. Mrs. Simpson will help you pack. And Jennings can take you . . .” Where? “Don’t you have family here about?”

“You been awful kind to me, miss . . .” Alice peered from behind the hanky.

Ann smiled. “And whatever you tell me won’t make a particle of difference in how much I like you, Alice, and how much I value your service. I’m responsible for this household now. It is my job to know.”

Alice hiccupped wetly, her red face contrasting in an unfortunate manner with her brassy blonde hair. “Well, he said he liked it from the back,” she began tentatively. “And I didn’t think nothin’ of it, ’cause sometimes they do, and then he didn’t want my quim at all but the other place.” The words wouldn’t stop now, and neither would the tears. “And I told him as how I couldn’t take him without oil or summat to ease his way, tryin’ to be accommodatin’ like, and all, and he says he’ll get juice another way, and he jes slams into me, and me cryin’ and beggin’ him to stop. And all the time he’s
tellin’ me he’s gonna make me bleed . . .” Her voice trailed away into a kind of keening.

“Beast!” Mrs. Simpson muttered and knelt beside Alice.

Ann straightened, and bit her lip, as if that would control the anger in her breast. In some ways she was surprised that someone like Erich was more than just talk. But apparently his depravity knew no bounds. “Mrs. Simpson, does she have a place to go?”

“A cousin over to Wedmore.”

“Help her pack. I’ll send Dr. Denton to attend her before she goes.” This was the man her uncle wanted her to take as husband? Her stomach churned. At least her odious cousin would not be able to persecute Alice any more.

Ann stomped through the house, unable to still her emotions as she stocked Uncle Thaddeus’s room with lavender water and smelling salts and several changes of clean linen. The doctor came and pronounced her uncle improved. Ann sent Dr. Denton to the servants’ quarters for Alice, who was bundled off with Jennings shortly thereafter.

By mid-afternoon her uncle’s color looked a little better. He told her that he’d let Erich have use of the Maitlands hunting lodge, down near Winscombe. Ann hoped Erich would spend lots of time there. She dared not disturb her uncle with telling tales on Erich at the moment. She’d have to keep the wretch at arm’s length until her uncle could become a support to her.

In late afternoon, Ann sat beside her uncle in his own favorite chair as he slept, mending one of his nightshirts with tiny stitches. The chair whispered of him, and she realized his health had been failing for some time but he had been loath to tell her of it. The thread she used murmured about the many lives behind the hands that made it, some who suffered, some who loved. The shadows lengthened. The fire crackled with oak logs that had cured all winter. Ann tried to
put down the anxiety that seemed to suck at her. Her uncle would get better. He must! Dr. Denton was wrong. Everything would go back to the way it was before last night.