Parting the Veil by Paulette Kennedy
CHAPTER 32
Eliza didn’t go to Sherbourne House the evening after Lydia’s departure, or the days after. While the guilt over lying to her sister niggled at her conscience, Havenwood Manor and its secrets would not relinquish their hold. She was driven to find out the truth.
October was nearly spent, and Malcolm still had not written. Despite Turner’s assurances he was alive and well, the sense of dread Eliza felt whenever she thought of her husband sickened her stomach. Shirley had attempted to keep Eliza occupied with carving jack-o’-lanterns and crafting brooms out of straw and birch branches “to sweep the Evil One away.” But no matter how diligent the little housekeeper’s efforts at cheering her were, Eliza’s mood remained sullen and dark.
That morning, she’d finally gotten the nerve to open the copy of The Portrait of a Lady she’d found in Ada’s room. Instead of the pages of the novel she was expecting to find, she discovered the book had been hollowed out with the blade of a knife and filled with memento mori—a locket inlaid with plaited dark hair and a time-worn photograph. When Eliza turned the photograph over, her heart lurched to her knees. Her husband lay in a coffin, his hands folded over his chest in the semblance of serenity, his dark hair curling around his pale face. She dropped the book and its contents to the floor and cried out, sending Shirley running into her room.
“Where in heavens did you find this?” Shirley asked, picking up the photograph. As the housekeeper tucked the celluloid image back into the book, Eliza noticed the neat script printed on its border: Gabriel Winfield, 1896
Not Malcolm. Gabriel.
“There now, mum. We’ll have done with that. What a terrible thing for ye to find.”
“It was in the south wing.”
“Aye, I was afeared you’d find only unpleasant things there. Poor hen. Come down to the kitchen with me and have a spot of sweet tea for the shock.”
“I think I’d rather go for a ride instead, Shirley.”
Within minutes, Eliza was flying through the bare, rain-blackened forest, the steady tattoo of her mare’s hoofbeats on the cold ground a pleasant diversion from her bleak thoughts. She stayed out until the hours grew long, riding past the millpond and over the heath until the sun became a saffron glow in the western sky and the lashing wind numbed and reddened her cheeks.
She cantered back up the drive to the manor, where it loomed like a hulking beast, its dim gaslit windows weeping with melted frost. Nigel stood on the front steps and Eliza’s heart quickened with hope and fear to see him there. She trotted to the terrace and dismounted, tying Artemis to the hitching post. “Nigel! Have you any news from my husband?”
He gave a bashful smile. “I’m not sure, mum. But I check every day, just as you asked.”
He handed her a gray parchment envelope, figured around its edges with elaborate scrollwork. She turned it over and recognized the seal immediately—Eastleigh’s lions. Why in heavens was he writing to her? She tipped Nigel, went over the threshold, and tore open the seal.
19 Rutland Court, Knightsbridge
London, West
My dearest Lady Havenwood,
I hope this letter finds you well. I fear our encounter at the railway station may have left you at odds with myself, and I can no longer endure your disregard.
You say that you know what was asked of your husband. I cannot fathom your thinking I intended any harm or insult toward you. Whatever he has said, it was false. I assure you, upon my honor, any thought I have—and I do think of you often—holds no lack of respect.
I shall come to it now: I have been watchful for your husband, yet he eludes my presence. I have only seen him in the Lords once since my arrival to London. Should I hear he is engaging in any of the salacious behavior he was known for in the past, I will surely make you privy to my knowledge. You may reach me in London at the address above.
With fondness,
Charles Lancashire
Earl of Eastleigh
How dare he. Eliza clenched her teeth and rent the paper in half. She tossed it into the grate, where the flames raced to consume it. She raced to her room and dosed herself with enough laudanum to ensure a sleep as velvet deep as death.
Someone was in her room.
Eliza bolted awake, her breath clouding the air in front of her. Candlelight flickered from the corner. She turned toward the shifting light, blinking in confusion.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Malcolm lounged in the chair by the fireplace, one long leg crossed loosely over the other. “I can’t stay long, mo chridhe.”
“Am I dreaming?”
He floated to her side, his eyes catching the reflection of the candle flames as he leaned over her. “Perhaps, my darling.” His lips met her own, the sweetness of the kiss bringing forth a sigh. “But if you were dreaming, could you feel this?” He nuzzled her hair from her shoulders, her pulse racing as he pushed the fabric of her nightgown down over her breasts and caressed her. Her senses exploded just as they would have if she were awake.
She turned her face into the pillow, closing her eyes. Malcolm plucked at the delta between her thighs, coaxing her to open for him. Sweet, delirious pleasure tightened in her belly with each expert movement, and Eliza’s hands fell above her head in surrender. This was what she wanted. What she missed. His touch. Unmerciful and unyielding. Eliza twisted in the tangled sheets as he brought her climax shuddering through her body.
As her breathing slowed, her flesh grew too tender to bear his continued attention. “It’s too much, my love.” She reached for his hands to push them away. Only instead of human flesh, she felt undulating, rippling scales.
She opened her eyes. And screamed.
It wasn’t Malcolm.
It was a monster.
A massive, hooded serpent leered over her, its scales an iridescent greenish black. Thick coils wrapped around her wrists, holding her fast. Eliza thrashed to find the edge of the bed, but the creature only tightened around her as if she were a helpless, tiny mouse caught in its grasp. The snake’s jewellike eyes flashed with intelligence as its forked tongue flickered over her throat. With a low hiss that sounded like laughter, it opened its jaws and lunged to strike.