Wicked

“He pushed me back behind the trees and allowed himself to be taken,” Ralph said.

“So he has been arrested?” she said.

Ralph shook his head. He bit his lip and told her, “He’s at Carlyle Castle. At least, I think he’s still there. I came as quickly as I could.”

“Oh, dear God! They’ve surely had him taken to some jail by now!” she exclaimed.

To her surprise, he shook his head once again. “No, you see, I heard the beast.”

“Pardon?”

“He was there. The Earl of Carlyle was there, riding this massive, black, very evil-looking steed! Huge, it were! And he was shouting to his men, telling them that the trespasser must be held, and that…”

“And that what?”

“He could never be allowed to say what he had seen.”

She stared at him, confused, the cold that had once trickled at her neck now an icicle driving brutally into her flesh.

“What did you see?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing! Honestly, nothing. But there were men with Carlyle. And they dragged Tristan to the castle with them.”

“How did you know that it was Carlyle—the beast?” she asked.

Ralph shuddered. “The mask!” he said softly.

“He wears a mask?”

“Oh, yes. The man is a monster. Surely, you’ve heard.”

“He is crippled, bent over and wears a mask?”

“No, no, he is huge. Well, very tall in his saddle. And he wears a mask. In leather, I believe, but it has the visage of a beast. Part lion, perhaps. Or wolf. Or dragon. It is horrid, that’s all I can say. His voice is like thunder, deep…as if he is indeed cursed of the devil himself! But it was him. Aye, it was him!”

She stared at Ralph.

Ralph shook his head in misery. “Tristan would strangle me if he knew that he’d sacrificed himself just so that I would worry you, but…he can’t be left there. Even if the police suspect him of being a robber…”

Yes, that would be better. If only Tristan had been hauled back to London to face accusation and trial, she could somehow pay for his legal defense. She could go before the magistrate herself and plead that he was going mad, that age had been stealing his senses. She could have…God knew what she could have done.

But, according to Ralph, Tristan was still at Carlyle Castle, held prisoner by a man with a reputation for merciless brutality. She rose.

“What are you going to do?” Ralph demanded.

“What else?” she demanded with a weary sigh. “I am going to Carlyle Castle.”

Ralph shuddered. “I have done the wrong thing. Tristan would not want you throwing yourself into danger.”

She felt a great pang of sorrow for Ralph, yet, what had he expected?

“I will not be in danger,” she assured him, smiling wearily. “He did teach me something about being a con artist, Ralph. I will go in all innocence and naiveté, and they will return my guardian to me. You’ll see.”

He rose quickly. “You cannot go alone!”

“I don’t intend to,” she assured him dryly. “We must head home first, and I must change. And you, too, must change.”

“Me?”

“Indeed!”

“Change?”

“Perception is everything, Ralph,” she told him sagely. He looked puzzled. “Never mind. Come along. I think we need to hurry.” She froze suddenly, turning back on him. “Ralph, no one knows, right? No one knows that the Earl of Carlyle has Tristan?”

“No one but me. And you now, of course.”

She felt a cold clutch of bony fingers encircling her heart, reaching into her throat. Good God, no matter what kind of a beast he was considered to be, the Earl of Carlyle couldn’t simply…murder a man.

“Ralph, we must move, and quickly!” she said, catching his arm and dragging him along.

“THE GENTLEMAN is resting nicely,” Evelyn Prior said, coming into the den. She fell into one of the huge upholstered wingback chairs that sat before the fire. Beside her, the master of the house had taken a position in the matching chair, brooding as he stared into the flames and scratched the huge head of his Irish wolfhound, Ajax.

Brian Stirling, Earl of Carlyle, looked over at her, brows knitted, deep in thought. After a moment, he said, “How badly is he hurt?”

“Oh, not badly, I dare say. The physician said that he was merely shaken and sore, and he didn’t believe the man had broken any bones, though he did acquire some bruising from climbing the walls, then falling. But I think he’ll be fine in a few days’ time.”

“He will not be crawling about the house in the night?”

Evelyn smiled. “Good heavens, no. Corwin is on guard in the hallway. And as you know, we keep the crypts locked tight. Only you and I have keys to the gates below. Even if he were to wander, there would be nothing he could find. And he won’t wander. Since he was in some pain, he has been given a good dose of laudanum.”

“He won’t wander. Corwin will see to that,” Brian said with certainty. His staff at Carlyle Castle was small, far too small for the upkeep of such a property. Everyone here was not just in service, but considered a friend. And each man and woman was loyal to the core—far more than appearances would imply.

“You are right, of course. Corwin will be entirely diligent,” Evelyn agreed.

“What do you think possessed the man to do such a thing?” Brian asked. He turned his gaze from the flames to Evelyn once again. “The grounds themselves are so overgrown, a veritable jungle. It’s amazing he would risk a trek through them.”

“And the estate was so beautifully kept when your parents were alive!” she murmured.

“A year of English rain, my dear, can do wonders,” Brian said. “So we have a jungle and wildlife! What would make him risk it?”

“The promise of great riches to be stolen,” she said.

“You don’t believe that the man is working for someone, do you?” he asked sharply.

She lifted her hands helplessly. “Honestly? No, I believe he came to steal something of value, and nothing more. Yet, is it possible that he’s working for someone, seeking to find out what you have and what you know? Yes, it’s possible.”

“I’ll find out tomorrow,” Brian said. He knew the sound of his voice was chilling. He hadn’t meant for it to be so, but as far as Carlyle Castle and his current activities went, he did feel a certain ruthlessness. He was embittered, he admitted, feeling a strong right to be so. There was more than the problem of the past to be solved. There was the future.

Evelyn looked at him anxiously, worried about his tone. “He has said that his name is Tristan Montgomery. And he swears that he was acting alone, though you already know that, since you were with Corwin and Shelby when he was found.”

“Yes, I know. He also claimed to have merely ‘stumbled’ onto the castle grounds. How one stumbles over a nine-foot wall, I don’t know. Since he is claiming that he is innocent of any evil intent, he is naturally claiming innocence in any kind of a conspiracy. But we shall see. Shelby will go down to the city tomorrow and see what he can discover about the man. Naturally, he will remain our guest until his real intentions can be discovered.”

“Should I ride down on a shopping excursion, as well?” Evelyn suggested.

“Perhaps,” Brian mused. He sighed deeply. “And perhaps it’s time I began to accept a few of the invitations that have come my way.”

Evelyn laughed. “Indeed, I’ve been telling you that you should. But think of the fear in the hearts of many a debutante’s mama!”

“Yes, that’s a thought.”

“It’s a pity you haven’t a fiancée or wife to stand charmingly by your side. Proof, of course, that there is no curse upon the house, and that you are not a beast, just a man, wounded by a great family tragedy.”

“That’s true, as well,” he murmured, gazing at her as he considered her reply.

“Oh, good heavens, don’t look at me!” Evelyn said with a laugh. “I’m way too old, Your Grace!”

He had to grin at that. Evelyn was a beautiful woman. Her green eyes were filled with deep intelligence, and though nearing forty, she still possessed a face with such fine lines that she would be beautiful until the age of one hundred, should God grant such a life span.

“Ah, Evelyn! You know my heart as no other woman could or ever will, and yet, you’re quite right.” His face hardened. “And if I were to know a proper young marital prospect, I’d not bring her in on this charade. God knows what danger she could face.”

“Surely no one would drag an innocent into this tangled web of evil!” Evelyn murmured. “A lass could not be in danger.”

“My mother is dead, is she not?” he inquired tightly.

“Your dear mother was unusual, and that you must know. In her knowledge, in her pursuits, in her courage,” Evelyn said. “You will not find another woman like her.”

“No,” Brian agreed. “And still, that the fiends should have slain a woman turns my heart to stone, though I agree that I would have pursued this with no less resolve had it been my father alone who was so cruelly killed.” He hesitated a moment. “Ah, Evelyn, I am not happy that you are involved.”

Evelyn smiled. “I was involved before you were, actually,” she reminded him softly. “And I am more than willing to risk my life and all that I have. Still, I don’t believe that I’m in any danger. I haven’t the knowledge or the skill your mother possessed. And I don’t really believe that a young woman—a powder puff of a trophy on your arm—would actually be in danger, either. You are the one targeted, if there is to be any danger. Any enemy will know you will not let the dead lie buried until they do so in peace.”

“I am the one cursed,” he reminded her.

“And do you believe in curses?” she asked, somewhat amused.

“It depends on how one sees a curse. Cursed? Yes. I live in hell. Can the curse be lifted? Certainly. But I must find the cure, in all that I do,” he said solemnly.

Evelyn shook her head. “See? A lovely young woman, claiming to love you despite the hideousness of your face and all that has occurred in the past, does much to change the appearance of Carlyle—man and castle, if you will. Perhaps there is someone we could…hire.”

“You’re serious!” he said.

“I am. Honestly, what you need is someone quite beautiful at your side. Someone to accompany you into the rooms of society, someone to prove you human.”

“And I’ve worked so hard to create my image of bountiful kindness already!” he said sardonically.

“Yes, and that was necessary,” Evelyn agreed. “We’ve had no intruders at the castle—until now.”

“None that we know about,” he said sharply.

“Brian! It’s time for a change.”

“I cannot change my course until I have come to the end.”

“You may never come to an end.”

“You’re wrong. I will.”

She sighed. “Fine, then see it my way. Add a layer to your charade, Brian. You’ve done what can be done from the shadows, and you will continue to do so. But I really believe it’s time that you must reenter society. There is the invitation to the fund-raiser. You are certain we are dealing with members of scholarly organizations, and that is certainly a valid supposition. And who better than those who shared your parents’ love and fascination with the wonders of an ancient world? You’ve told me that you actually have your list of suspects narrowed down.”

He rose restlessly, paced before the fire. Ajax, nervous, sensing his master’s mood, whined. Brian took a moment to reassure the dog. “It’s all right, boy,” he said, then gave his attention to Evelyn once again. “Yes, we are seeking someone with a deep knowledge of the field. That is a given. But we are also seeking someone capable of murder, the kind of cunning and malicious premeditation that killed my parents.”

Evelyn was silent for a minute. Despite the year that had now gone by, it was impossible to remember how the late earl and his countess had died without feeling a terrible sense of pain and horror.

Brian walked to the occasional table behind the chairs, poured a portion of brandy into a snifter, swallowed it down and then looked at Evelyn. “Forgive my manners,” he said. “My dear, would you like a brandy?”

“Yes, actually,” she said, smiling. He poured some into her snifter first, then refilled his own.

Lifting his glass to her, he said dryly, “To the night. To darkness and shadows.”

“No, to the day and the light,” she said firmly.

He grimaced.

“It’s time, I’m telling you,” Evelyn insisted. “We must somehow find you a delightful young woman. Not incredibly wealthy or titled. That would be too absurd, considering…well, with your reputation, no one would believe it. Still, there would have to be just the right circumstances, the right someone. She should be young enough, beautiful, compassionate and possessing a certain charm, as well. With the right woman by your side, you’d be able to continue your investigations without worrying about desperate mothers ready to sacrifice their daughters to the beast, all for the sake of the wealth of Carlyle.”

“And where do I acquire this charming beauty?” he asked, grinning. “She must have a certain intelligence—and the charm of which you speak—otherwise having her at my side would do no good. The concept of searching the streets to hire such a woman would not work, either. I can promise you that we will not find such a sweet, well-spoken beauty in such a quest. So there is little hope. It’s most unlikely that such a perfect candidate will come knocking at the door!”

It was precisely then that a tapping did sound, firm upon the door to the den.

Shelby, in his footman’s attire—a little bizarre, but certainly imposing upon a man of his great size and musculature—cracked open the door when bidden to do so.

“There’s a young woman to see you, Lord Brian.” He seemed quite baffled.

“A young woman?” Brian repeated, frowning.

Shelby nodded. “Actually, a very beautiful young woman, waiting down at the gates.”

“A young woman!” Evelyn exclaimed, staring at Brian.

“Yes, yes, we’ve established that,” Brian said. “What is her name? Why has she come?”

“What does it matter?” Evelyn said. “You must invite her in and find out what it is that she needs or wants.”

“Evelyn, certainly it matters. She must be a fool, to be coming here. Or she’s working for someone,” Brian said.

Evelyn waved a hand in the air. “Shelby, you must bring her in. Immediately. Oh, Brian! Please, you mustn’t always be so suspicious.”

He arched a brow.

“Brian, please! We haven’t had an actual visitor here since…in years!” she finished with a flush. “I can serve a delightful meal. It’s actually quite exciting!”

“Exciting,” Brian said dryly. He lifted his hands. “Shelby, do invite the young woman in.” He looked at Evelyn. “For, indeed, she has come tapping at our door.”

CHAPTER TWO

CAMILLE HAD BEEN QUITE CAREFUL regarding every move she made, including their conveyance and their appearances. Ralph was handsomely decked out in one of Tristan’s day suits with a proper cap, giving the impression of a properly clean and dignified individual, but one in service. She had drawn out her best gown, a feminine concoction in deep maroon, the bodice neither too high nor too low, the bustle of a medium size, the overskirt in satin, with lace bordering the underskirt, showing through the delicate scallops at the hem. It was an outfit, she had determined, that dressed a young respectable woman who did not possess a great fortune, yet had the most respectable means to see one through life.

She definitely begrudged the money she had to pay the hansom cab to bring them so far out of the city, but the driver was courteous, glad of the fare and quick to assure her that he was willing to wait to return them to London. So it was that she stood at the massive gates to Carlyle Castle, staring at the massive structure of wrought iron that prevented them from entering, and turned to Ralph in disbelief.

“You two determined that you must scale this wall?” she said.

He shrugged unhappily. “Well, if you follow the wall itself around a bit, there’s a damaged area. It was actually quite easy to get a foothold, and then…well, I boosted Tristan and he dragged me. Really, I might have broken bones escaping, since I had to depart the same way, and by that time there was some kind of very large hound after me. Unless, in fact, he does raise wolves…but no matter. I did escape, and I do swear I wasn’t seen.”

Ralph blushed, aware that she hadn’t in the least appreciated his story.

She had already pulled upon the massive cord that presumably rang a bell somewhere in the castle.

“Tristan is within,” she murmured.

“Camie, honestly, I’d not have deserted, ever!” Ralph protested. “But I didn’t know what else to do, other than come to you.”

“I know that you wouldn’t have deserted him,” she said softly, then added, “Hush! Someone is coming.”

They heard a pounding of horse’s hooves, and a man on top of a huge steed appeared behind the gate. When he dismounted, Camille could very well understand the huge horse, for the fellow was a giant. He stood many inches over six feet, and his shoulders seemed to have the breadth of a doorway. He was no lad, but neither was he ancient. She thought his age to be, perhaps, midthirties. Muscled and tense, he made his way to peer through the gate.

“Yes?”

“Good evening,” Camille said, flustered despite herself by the fellow’s size and foreboding tone. “Excuse the late hour and the unannounced call, I beg you. It’s imperative that I see the master of the house, the Earl of Carlyle, on a matter of utmost urgency.”

She had expected questions; she received none. The man stared at her from beneath dark, bushy brows, then turned.

“Excuse me!” she cried.

“I will see if the master is available,” he called over his shoulder. He leaped atop the huge horse once again, and the sound of the animal’s lope disappeared into the darkness of the trail that led to the castle.

“He won’t be available,” Ralph said pessimistically.

“He must be. I will refuse to leave until he sees me,” Camille assured Ralph.

“To most men, the thought of a lady waiting at the gates in the darkness would be distressing. But we are dealing with the Beast of Carlyle,” Ralph reminded her.

“He will see me,” Camille insisted.

She paced before the gate.

“No one is coming back,” Ralph said, growing distressed.

“Ralph, our hansom is waiting, but I will not leave without Tristan. If no one appears soon, I will ring that bell until they are all half-mad from the sound,” Camille said.

She stood still, arms crossed over her chest.

Ralph began to pace. “No one is coming,” he repeated.

“Ralph, it is some distance to the castle. The man surely had to go to it, find his master and then return to us.”

“We will sleep out here,” Ralph warned.

“Well, you do know how to break back in to the property,” Camille reminded him.

“We should start now, then.”

“We should wait,” she said firmly.

She began to fear that Ralph was right, that she would be ignored, left to wait at the gates with no leave to enter and no refusal sending her away. But then, just when she had nearly despaired, she heard the sound of hooves once again and the clacking of wheels.

A small wagon, handsomely roofed in leather and fringe, appeared with the huge man at the reins. He hopped down from the driver’s seat and came to the gate, using a large key to open the padlock braced around it, then swinging the gate open.

“If you’ll please accompany me?” he said, the words polite, his tone as dour as ever.

Camille flashed an encouraging smile at Ralph and followed. Ralph came along, as well. The big man hoisted Camille into the rear seat of the conveyance, and Ralph hopped up behind her.

The small carriage took them down a long and winding path. The darkness on either side of the road seemed to be deep and endless. By day, Camille was certain, they would have seen massive trees and an overgrown forest flanking the path. The master of Carlyle liked his environs secluded, to the point of it all appearing to be like some godforsaken no-man’s-land. As they trotted along, it seemed to Camille that the forest breathed, that indeed it was an overbearing entity ready to suck in the unwary, entangle the soul.

“And you two thought you might begin to find some treasure here?” she whispered to Ralph.

“You’ve not seen the castle yet,” he whispered back.

“You’re both mad! I should leave Tristan here,” she murmured. “This is the greatest foolishness I have ever seen.”

Then the castle loomed before her. Mammoth. It retained a moat over which lay a great drawbridge, permanently down now, Camille imagined, since armies were unlikely to come and besiege the place. Yet, it appeared quite certain that no one could simply slip into the place, since the castle walls themselves were staunch and windowless to a great height, and only narrow slits could be seen.

She looked at Ralph, angrier and more distraught the closer they came. What had the two been thinking?

The carriage clattered over the bridge. They came to a great courtyard and she saw just what Tristan might have known—the area was covered with antiquities, fascinating statues and pieces of art. An ancient bathtub—Greco-Roman, she thought—had been handsomely altered to act as a contemporary watering trough. There were various sarcophagi lining an area of the outer wall, and numerous other treasures were laid closer to the path that led to a great door. The castle had obviously seen some construction work to bring it into the nineteenth century. The doorway was rounded handsomely, and from the turret atop it, boxes of vines spilled over, offering a tiny bit of welcome to a visitor.

She continued to survey the courtyard as the huge man came to help her from the carriage. The artifacts belonged in the museum, she thought indignantly. But she was well aware that many things she would consider precious were ordinary to rich world travelers. She’d heard, as well, that mummies were so plentiful, they were often sold as fodder for fireplaces and heat. Still, there were many stunning examples of Egyptian art here—two giant ibises, a few statues of Isis and a number of others that were surely lesser pharaohs.

“Come,” the big man said.

They followed him up the path to the door. It opened to a circular reception area, where once, it was planned that the enemy should be bottled and trapped, were they to get this far. Now, the area was a mudroom.

“If I may?”

The man took her cape. Ralph held tightly to his overcoat. The big man shrugged.

“Come.”

They passed through a second door to an outstanding hall. Here, modernization had definitely been in effect. In fact, the room was actually gracious. The stone stairway curved to an upper level and balcony, and the stairs were covered in a warm, royal-blue runner. Weapons lined ceilings and part of the walls, but they were interspersed by beautiful oils, some of them portraits, others medieval and pastoral scenes. She was certain that many were the works of great masters.

A fire crackled in a massive hearth. The furniture surrounding the hearth was in deep brown leather, yet not austere in the least. Rather, it offered a plush and welcoming comfort.

“You, wait here,” the man told Ralph. “You, come with me,” he said to Camille.

Ralph stared at her like a frightened puppy being left behind in a ditch. She inclined her head to let him know that it was quite all right, and followed the man up the curving stairs.

He led her into a room with a massive desk and endless shelves of books. Her heart leaped at the sight of them. So many! And the subject matter on one wall was that near and dear to her heart. Ancient Egypt was a massive tome aligned next to The Path of Alexander the Great.

“The master will be with you shortly,” the big man said, closing the door behind him as he left.

Standing alone in the large room, Camille was first aware of silence. Then, bit by bit, those little noises that intruded upon the night. From somewhere, she heard the plaintive, chilling call of a wolf. Then, as if to alleviate that chill, the snap of a fire burning brightly in the hearth to the left of the entry.