A Game of Shadows (24 page)

Louisa curled into a ball, bringing her knees up against her flat stomach.  She shouldn’t have blurted out the truth to Aunt Louisa, but the doctor caught her off-guard with the news.  She had been so sure that she wasn’t with child.  Of course, it had always been a possibility.  She had been with Theo several times since she came to him at Willowbrook, and then there was Tom.  She never meant for it to happen; never meant for things to go that far, but she knew they would before she even entered Tom’s lodgings in Blackfriars, her face veiled against anyone who might possibly recognize her. 

She’d lied to everyone, but most of all to herself.  She’d wanted Tom all along
, and she knew that she would never be satisfied until she had his love
—
only it wasn’t love that he was offering.  He’d changed since she’d known him in Virginia, going from a spoiled, selfish boy to a hard, cunning man who saw right through her.  The irony was that Tom understood her better than she understood herself, seeing through the façade of a refined young lady to the dark parts of herself that she refused to acknowledge, even in private.

Louisa thought that
Tom would romance her and offer promises of love, but he never bothered with all that once she agreed to come to his lodgings.  He pushed her up against the wall as soon as she walked in, kissing her hard and sliding his hand between her legs, stroking her until she was shaking with desire, desperate to be his, but Tom wasn’t quite ready to give her what she came for.  This was a game, and it would be played by his rules, not hers.  She’d nearly ruined his life the last time they played, and he hadn’t forgotten that. 

“Take that dress off unless you want me to rip it off you,” Tom ordered, removing his own clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.  Louisa undressed
slowly, leaving only her stockings.  They were a pale-blue silk tied with bows mid-thigh, and they brought attention to her slim, shapely legs; the bows drawing the eye to the dark triangle between her thighs.  She wanted him to look at her and hunger for her, but Tom was past that.  He was ravenous.  He threw her on the bed like a rag doll, teasing her until she was begging him to take her, her body quivering with need, but he wasn’t ready. 

“Tell me you want me, Louisa
,” he breathed into her ear.  “Tell me that I can do anything I want. His hands explored her mercilessly, followed by his lips.  He didn’t bother to be gentle, his fingers rough inside her, his lips fastening around her nipples until she nearly screamed with frustration.

“I want you, Tom.  I always have,” she moaned, arching her hips against him in the hope that he would finally make love to her. 

“Tell me that you are here to finish what you started,” he commanded, biting her lip until she tasted blood.  She didn’t care.  She was on fire.  She tried to touch him, but he pinned down her wrists, his knee forcing her thighs apart. 

“Finish what you started,” she pleaded as Tom finally rammed inside her, making her cry out.  He pounded into her with savage force, pain
turning into exquisite pleasure as her body surrendered to his, totally giving up control.  The sensations that were coursing through her forced all thoughts from her mind, her whole being focused on the point of their joining, wanting to pull back, yet arching her back to get closer to him as he continued his onslaught, merciless and demanding.  Something within her let go, her body convulsing with an orgasm that shook her to the core, leaving her breathless and spent as Tom finally rolled off her, a mocking smile on his handsome face.

“Did I satisfy, your ladyship?” he asked, using her future title
to belittle her. 

Louisa pulled a sheet over her nakedness, her body still vibrating from the force of his attack.  She squeezed her legs
in an effort to contain the ache and hold on to some of the feelings that he roused in her.  She’d never felt that way with Theo.  It had been pleasurable and romantic, but this was like comparing a summer shower to a tempest that rages for hours and leaves a trail of devastation and destruction.

She wanted to rage at Tom and pummel him with her fists for using her so roughly and making her feel little more than a
whore, but at the same time, she wanted to thank him for making her feel so alive, so complete.  She wished he’d say something kind to her, tell her how beautiful she was or how he’d hungered for her for so long, but Tom just lay there, watching her with that infuriating smile as if he could read the thoughts racing through her mind. 

“I must go,” she said, slipping out of bed and reaching for her clothes with shaking hands.  “
And I won’t be back.”

Tom just laughed.  He was sprawled on the bed, his legs spread and his hands behind his back.  He looked obscenely beautiful as he taunted her with his lack of modesty.

“Oh, you’ll be back, maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but you’ll be back.  You see, Louisa, your little lord will never be enough for you.  You are not the kind of woman who welcomes her husband into her bed once a week and sighs with happiness when he leaves.  You want someone who will tear you apart, love you and hurt you, and leave you crying and begging for more.  That’s the only time you feel truly alive.”  Tom was still sniggering as she let herself out, her legs buckling beneath her as she ran down the street.

She swore she wouldn’t go back, but she had, again and again.  She fell asleep dreaming of Tom
, and woke up wanting him like a starved person wants food.  He’d been right; she enjoyed him hurting her.  It aroused her and made her want him more.  He didn’t stop her when she slapped him or clawed at him as he took her hard, making her cry out with pleasure and pain.  They were one and the same, and only he could make them irresistible.

And now everything would change.  She was pregnant
, and would have to marry as soon as possible to save her reputation.  Louisa closed her eyes, trying to picture herself married to Tom, but all she saw were visions of violent sex that left her shaken and fulfilled.  Was there any part of Tom that wanted her for more than her body?  Did he care for her even a little?  He never spoke of love or a future beyond the little room in Blackfriars, and she’d never asked, but now everything was different.

Louisa’s hand flew to her cheek as the sting of the slap shocked her out of her complacency.  She’d been in denial since the doctor’s pronouncement, but she had to face reality, and that time was now.  Uncle Kit’s furious face floated above her own as tears began to flow, her cheek hot and throbbing.

“Don’t you cry!” he roared.  “Don’t you dare cry!”

“What will you have me do then?” she whimpered, afraid he’d hit her again.  But the fight had gone out of Kit, leaving him looking ashamed and defeated as he took a step back from Louisa’s cowering form in an effort to control himself.

“I would have you tell me what I’m meant to do with you.  I defended you to Charles the first time you disgraced yourself with Gaines, but this time you’ve gone too far.  Am I supposed to lie to my nephew and tell him the child is his so that he could marry you and spare you the humiliation, or am I supposed to confront Gaines, not that it would do much good since he’s
betrothed already?”  Kit drew a deep breath, obviously trying to control his rage, but it was lost on Louisa.  She stared at him in shock as his words finally penetrated her shroud of desperation.

“He’s
betrothed?” she whispered. 

“Of course. 
Were you too busy lifting your skirts to inquire?” Kit yelled.  “He’s to marry the daughter of his employer at Michaelmas, or haven’t you heard?”

“Kit, don’t be cruel,” Aunt Louisa said quietly, laying a hand on Kit’s arm.  “She’s miserable enough.”

“Not as miserable as she’ll be when she’s swollen like a melon and has no ring on her finger from either man.  What am I to do, Lou?  What would Alec want me to do?” he asked, turning to his wife for guidance. 

“He’d want you to handle this with discretion and tact.” Aunt Louisa replied, giving Kit a pleading look.  “Do this for Alec and Valerie.”

“Do what?!  How can I force Theo’s hand when I don’t know that this child is his?  And why should I encourage him to marry a woman who has no moral standards or self-respect?  Thank God Aunt Maud isn’t here, or she’d crucify all of us, and with good reason this time.”

“How did you even manage to see him alone?” Kit asked suddenly, changing tack.  “And where did you see him?”
  He’d kept a close eye on Louisa, never allowing her to leave the house unchaperoned unless she was with his nephew.  He’d been so vigilant, and yet she still managed to deceive him and spend time with Gaines without his knowledge.  The girl was obviously much cleverer than he gave her credit for, and an accomplished liar.  When Charles accused Louisa of plotting to trap Gaines, Kit thought he’d been exaggerating and that it was Louisa’s innocence and trust that landed her in a precarious situation, but now he wasn’t so sure. 

Maybe Charles had the right of it.  After all, he’d known Louisa since birth
, and Kit had only known her since he came to Virginia with his wife, but he had to admit that he had his suspicions about her all along.  Kit had seen enough of life to know that people were capable of changing and adjusting to their circumstances, but there were certain core traits that remained unchanged regardless of time and position.  If a person lacked basic decency and honor in their youth, those characteristics were not about to appear in later years regardless of the life that person made for themselves. 

Louisa had always been sweet and charming, but underneath the façade, Kit saw a selfish, self-serving girl, who had no
compunction about sacrificing someone else’s happiness to suit her own needs.  Alec was blind to his daughter’s failings, but Valerie was well-aware of Louisa’s faults.  No wonder she’d been eager to announce her engagement to Theo.  Having Louisa safely married was probably the best course of action under the circumstances, and now time was of the essence.  Kit turned back to Louisa, his eyes boring into her as she withheld her answer.

“How did you manage to see him alone?” he repeated, not backing down.  He would have his answer if she wanted his help.  He deserved to know the truth.
 

“I saw him when I went out with Genevieve.  I forced her to lie for me,” Louisa stammered, seeing renewed anger in Kit’s eyes.

“How could you have forced her to lie for you?  Was she a willing accomplice in this?”  He looked incredulous, knowing that Genevieve would never have willingly lied to them, her position in their household so uncertain. 

“No, Uncle Kit.  It’s not her fault.  I took advantage of her fear,” Louisa mumbled, looking at her feet
to avoid Kit’s furious gaze.  Her fingers were intertwined in front of her, her knuckles white with tension as she took a step back in fear.

“How?” her aunt asked, shocked.

“I told her that if she didn’t help me, I would tell my father that she was unkind to me, and he would ask her to leave.”

This time the slap came from her aunt, who looked furious.  “You little bitch!  How could you do that to her after everything she’d been through?  No wonder she lied for you.  When did you become such a cold-hearted, calculating person?  I’m ashamed to call you my niece,” Aunt Louisa said. 

Her voice was quiet, but the words hurt much worse than the slap.  Louisa genuinely loved her aunt and uncle, and to see their anger and disappointment was almost the worst part of her predicament.  And then her parents would find out once they got home.  Her mother would be livid, but her father would be heartbroken.  He always took her side and gave her unconditional love, but now he would despise her for the disgrace she brought on herself, and in turn, him. 

“Please, help me, Uncle Kit,” she pleaded.  “I’ll do anything you say.  Please don’t tell my parents.  I know you can help.”

“Louisa, I will speak to my nephew against my better judgment, but only because I love your parents and don’t want to see them humiliated.  You don’t deserve Theo’s love or protection, but I will speak to him nevertheless.  However, if you EVER do anything to hurt him again, I will personally see to it that you live to regret it.  Do I make myself clear?”

Louisa just nodded, tears rolling down her face.  She’d never seen Uncle Kit so angry.  He was always so kind to her and full of good humor, but at that moment
, he looked as if he hated her and wanted nothing to do with her ever again.  Louisa turned to her aunt, but she turned away, not wishing to meet her eyes.

“Go to your room and stay there.  I can’t bear the sight of you right now,” Aunt Louisa said, turning to the window.  Louisa ran out of the room, wishing she were dead.

September 1624

France

Valerie checked the room one last time for any forgotten belongings before closing the lid of the trunk.  Alec had gone downstairs to pay their bill as Andre came up to fetch the luggage to be loaded onto the back of the carriage.  Valerie was secretly happy to leave the place.  They’d been in Loudun for a week, and it was a week too long as far as she was concerned.  None of their inquiries produced any results, despite the handsome reward Alec offered to anyone who came forward.  Everyone remembered the scandal that rocked their town twenty-two years ago, but no one knew anything more than what they’d already been told, or if they did, they weren’t willing to share the information even for money.  Sister Rose had never left the confines of the convent, so no one in town could even say what she looked like, much less if she’d ever been seen with someone.  People did know Genevieve and asked after her, sending her warm regards and kind wishes.  Valerie knew that Alec was sorely disappointed, but after so many years, the trail had grown cold.  There were no clues left to find. 

There was one last thing they had to do before leaving, and that was to visit Rose’s grave.  Alec kept putting it off, knowing it would break his heart to see the sad final resting place of his sister.  For a devout Catholic
, there was no worse fate than being buried like a dog at a crossroads, the soul forever banned from the gates of Heaven and condemned to Hell for eternity.  Valerie wasn’t sure if Alec believed that Rose was really in Hell, and she didn’t want to ask.  He was heartbroken enough, believing that he had failed her in death as well as in life.  Rose had chosen her own path the day she decided to flee Yealm Castle, but as a man of the seventeenth century, Alec saw it as his duty to protect his sister and take responsibility for her, regarding her actions to be a result of his failure to help her, rather than Rose’s desire to get away from a marriage she didn’t want.  The only marriage Rose had been interested in had been the one to Christ’s church, so whatever had happened to her once she reached France, was likely not of her choosing.  Alec knew that and blamed himself despite the fact that there was nothing he could have done to prevent Rose’s sad fate.  The sooner they left Loudun, the sooner he could begin to come to terms with Rose’s death and hopefully in time, learn to accept that the fault did not lie with him.

Valerie took one last look at Loudun as the carriage rattled down the cobblestone street toward the outskirts of town.  Sadly, it didn’t seem
quaint or charming anymore, just sad and full of secrets.  Alec must have felt the same because he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the last of the town or the convent that was on their left as they passed; its gray walls cold and forbidding in the light of the overcast morning.  They would visit the grave and then begin their journey to Calais. 

Alec opened his eyes reluctantly as the coach came to a stop at the crossroads.  A lonely cross, weathered by time and elements rose out of the ground, the
crude inscription nearly worn away.  The wood was bleached by the sun and split in places, making it look as if it had been standing at that lonely spot for centuries rather than decades.  Tall grass choked the lower part of the cross, the grave itself unkempt and neglected after two decades.  No one would have bothered to take care of Rose’s final resting place, her existence as irrelevant as the lonely marker covered by a layer of dust from the road. 

Valerie
silently followed Alec out of the carriage as he took off his hat and stood in front of the grave, tense and dry-eyed.  He reached out and touched the wood of the cross, running his finger over the name.  “I’m sorry, Rose,” he said quietly.  “I wish I would have listened to you and tried to understand.  Maybe things would have turned out differently for both of us.  Rest in peace, knowing that I will take care of your daughter as if she were my own.”  He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but suddenly turned toward the carriage, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.  Valerie was sure that the memory of Rose’s grave would haunt him for the rest of his days, taunting him with his failure to do anything more for her.

“
Monsieur.”  A man was walking briskly through a field, waving his hand in greeting. He broke into a run as Alec got into the carriage, ready to leave.

“Wait,
monsieur,” he called out as he finally reached the carriage, holding up his hand as he tried to catch his breath.   

“Who’s that?” Valerie asked
as she studied the man through the window of the carriage.  They had met many of the inhabitants of the town, but she was sure they hadn’t seen this man before.  He was dark-eyed and lean, his skin bronzed by frequent exposure to the sun, his moustache and trim beard hiding the lower half of a face that was younger than she originally thought.

“I don’t know.  Maybe he’s mistaken us for someone.
”  Alec seemed distracted, eager to get away from the place.   

“Monsieur
Whitfield, please wait.  I’d like to speak to you.”  The man took off his hat, holding it in his hands and shifting his weight from foot to foot in agitation. 

“I
’d better see what he wants,” Alec sighed, getting out of the carriage and leaving the door open so Valerie could hear what transpired. 

“My name is Maurice Barras.  I heard that you’ve been
making inquiries about Sister Rose, but I didn’t want to come to you in town for fear of drawing attention to our meeting.  You might think that no one remembers anything of that time, but you are quite wrong.  Everyone does, but they are too afraid to speak up, even in the face of a large reward.  There’s something I’d like to tell you, and I think this is the right place to do that.”

Alec stilled, watching Maurice Barras with weariness.  He’d given up on learning anything of what happened to Rose, and this man was suddenly offering information at the eleventh hour.  Was he simply hoping to claim the reward before it was too late, knowing that Alec would have no choice but to pay up regardless of the authenticity of the information?  He’d have no way to
verify that what the man was telling him was the truth, but at this point, money was the last thing on Alec’s mind.  He was eager to hear what the man had to say, his eyes lighting with hope at the prospect of learning something, anything, of what happened to his sister.

“Please, go
on, Monsieur Barras,” Alec invited, uncrossing his arms and talking off his hat in a gesture of friendliness.  The man glanced toward the cross for a long moment before finally facing Alec, a look of determination on his face. 

“My grandfather worked at the convent many years ago.  He wasn’t permitted inside, but he tended the
grounds and made minor repairs to the outbuildings.  He was an old man, so the sisters felt safe with him.  I helped my parents on the farm during the year, but in the summer, I used to sneak onto the convent grounds to help my grandfather.  He was getting on in years and things were getting too much for him, although he wouldn’t readily admit it. I met your sister.  She was a kind lady and said I reminded her of her little brother, Charles.”

Maurice Barras paused
, looking out over the empty road as if he could see Rose clearly in his mind.

“Thank you,
Monsieur Barras. It was kind of you to tell me that,” Alec said, turning to leave. 

“Wait, I wasn’t quite finished.  You see, I was the one who found your sister’s body.  I’d gone swimming in the river and there she was, floating in the water.  I wasn’t sure if she
were dead, so I pulled her to the bank and ran for my grandfather.  He tried to revive her.  I was only ten at the time, but I remember it as it were yesterday.  She was so pale and still, just lying there on the grass in a white gown.  Her habit had been left further upstream, folded neatly with the cross on top.”  Maurice Barras paused again, a look of sorrow on his face.  It must have been traumatic for a ten-year-old child to find a corpse floating in the river, but he had obviously been a quick-thinking lad and pulled Rose out in the hope that she might still be saved. 

“You see,
Monsieur Whitfield, Sister Rose didn’t have any water in her lungs, and there were terrible bruises around her neck and wrists.  My grandfather pointed them out to me.  He left me to watch over the body while he went to fetch Mother Superior.  He showed her the bruises, telling her that they were inconsistent with drowning, but she wouldn’t listen.  She told him that Sister Rose couldn’t live with her shame, and had chosen to end her life rather than to spend another day in the hell she’d created for herself.  They took her away then, and Mother Superior had chastised my grandfather for allowing me to come to the convent, threatening to fire him from his job.  He didn’t earn much, but it was enough to allow him to live modestly and independently, so he kept his suspicions to himself and let the matter drop.”

Alec
regarded Maurice Barras silently for a few moments, digesting what he’s just heard.  “So, your grandfather believed that Sister Rose had been murdered?”

“He said that he thought she was dead before she went into the water.  Her throat was nearly purple with the bruising, but Mother Superior said that she might have tried hanging herself first.  It didn’t look
as if it came from a rope.  The bruises were wide, as if made by large hands.”

“I see,” Alec sai
d.  “Thank you for telling me.”  He took some coins out of the leather pouch at his waist, handing them to Maurice Barras, but the man shook his head, holding up his hands as if trying to ward off evil.

“I don’t want the reward,
Monsieur Whitfield.  I told you this because I felt it was my duty to your sister and to my grandfather.  I promised him that if ever the chance presented itself, I would tell the truth of what I saw that afternoon.  I only wanted to right a wrong, not profit from it.” 

Alec nodded in understanding, putting the coins away, his eyes clouded with confusion.  “That’s very decent of you, Mousier Barras.  I must admit that I have no inkling of what to do with this information.  Knowing that my sister didn’t take her own life would ease my soul, but the possibility that a murder had gone
uninvestigated and unpunished disturbs me even more.”  Alec ran a hand through his hair in his agitation, completely taken aback by the possibility that Rose might have died at someone else’s hand.  They had been on their way out of town, but what were they to do now?  Could they just leave knowing that Rose might have been murdered?  Alec suddenly looked up, remembering something that the man had said earlier.

“You said that people were afraid to talk to me.  Who are they afraid of?”  Clearly
, someone still cared to keep the truth from coming out, and Maurice Barras knew who that might be.

Maurice Barras didn’t answer the question directly, just cocked his head to the side studying Alec before coming to a decision. 

“There’s someone I think you should talk to, Monsieur Whitfield.  Her name is Berenice Jarnot.  She lives on a farm ten miles south of Loudon and likely knows nothing about your inquiries, or she would have come forward.  She was one of the sisters at the convent, but left the order shortly after your sister’s death.  My grandfather said that she was the one who delivered the baby that night, and that she didn’t leave the convent of her own free will.”

“Thank you,
Monsieur Barras.  I’m very grateful for the information.  May I tell Madame Jarnot that you sent us?” he asked, watching the man’s face.

“Yes.  She knows me well and will make you welcome.  I hope she can help you.  Good day.” 

Maurice Barras shook Alec’s hand and walked away in the direction he had come from, never turning back.  Alec stood looking after him, conflicting emotions playing over his face.  Had the man readily accepted the reward, Alec might have had doubts about the validity of the information, but Barras had nothing to gain and something to lose by confessing what he knew.  The question was, just how much could he lose if someone found out that he’d spoken to them?  Who would kill a nun and why?  And why would they still want to protect their secret after two decades?

“Shall we go see Madame Jarnot
?” Valerie asked, startling Alec out of his reverie.  “Do you think she might be able to shed some light on any of this?”

“I hope so, although if she knew something, she would have spoken out at the time, don’t you think?” he asked, getting back into the coach.

“Maybe someone wanted to keep her quiet,” Valerie replied, pondering the situation.  “If someone had really killed Rose and tried to make it look like suicide, they might go to great lengths to keep it quiet, and Madame Jarnot might have been too afraid to speak out.” 

“Yes, I suppose that’s possible.  There’s only one way to find out.”