by Bree Wolf
“Footsteps,” Mathilda said. “So I hid. I thought it might be Wilton, and I didn’t want to get in trouble.” She looked at them with open eyes, seeking approval of her reasoning; so Ellie nodded her head in encouragement. “That’s when I saw her.”
“Who?” Impatience rang clear in Frederick’s voice, and Ellie could feel the muscles in his arms tremble. “Who did you see?”
“The sad woman from the tea party,” Mathilda mumbled, her eyelids closing. “I’ve seen her before. At the stables. The day…” Her voice grew quieter before it finally trailed off.
While Frederick and Oliver bore similarly puzzled expressions, Ellie felt the blood freeze in her veins, and she closed her eyes, hoping against hope that Mathilda had been wrong.
“Who?” Frederick asked before his gaze turned to her, and she could read on his face that he understood. “You know who she is talking about.”
Ellie nodded. “I think I do,” she whispered, her eyes shifting back and forth between Frederick and Oliver. “She is talking about Charlotte.”
“Charlotte?” Oliver exclaimed in confusion while Frederick closed his eyes, his lips pressing into a tight line. “Why would she lock your door?” Oliver asked, starting to pace the lawn. “What would she even be doing here to begin with? This doesn’t make any sense.” He spun around. “What did you see next?” he asked Mathilda, only to realise that sleep had finally claimed her. “Mathilda!” he called, coming toward her.
“No, don’t,” Ellie whispered, wrapping her arms tighter around the little girl. “Let her sleep. She is exhausted.”
“But we need to know what happened,” Oliver snapped. For a moment, he stared at her, then swallowed and took a step back. “I apologise. I did not mean to speak so harshly. I just…”
“I know,” Ellie said, offering him a weak smile. “There is no need to apologise.” Then she shifted her attention to her husband, who sat staring into the distance. “Are you all right?”
He looked at her, offering a weak smile of his own. “I don’t know. I don’t understand any of it. Why would she do this? Lock your door in the middle of the night?” His face paled. “Did she set the fire as well?” His eyes shifted back and forth between her and Oliver. “Did she set the fire and lock you in? Did she want you to…?”
Ellie felt the muscles in his body tense with the need to move, and yet, he sat perfectly still, holding her in his arms.
“Why would she do that?” Oliver asked, raking his hands through his hair. “She barely even knows you. What reason could she possibly have to want to hurt you? Or Frederick?”
Frederick swallowed and closed his eyes, his head sinking to his chest. “Maybe that is the answer. Maybe she meant to hurt me the way I hurt her.”
“What?” Oliver asked, his eyes so wide they looked like they would pop out of their sockets any moment.
From across the courtyard, Ellie saw the carriage pull around the house and stop by the entrance to the gardens. Theresa and Maryann climbed out, their faces pale with fear as they glanced up at the smoke billowing out of Frederick’s as well as her bedroom windows as the fire slowly died down.
“Go,” Ellie whispered, and Frederick looked at her through narrowed eyes. “I am all right. You need to go and find her. You need to find out what happened.”
“Are you certain?” he asked as his muscles flexed with the urgent need to be off.
Cupping her hand to his cheek, she smiled at him reassuringly. “I am. Now, go.”
Gently, he set her down onto the bench, Mathilda still sleeping in her arms, and gestured for Oliver to follow.
Watching them stride across the lawn toward the stables, Ellie prayed that they would find her and that Frederick would be able to handle the answers he would receive. If his old demons found a way to reclaim his heart, he would be lost to her for good.
As Theresa and Maryann hastened toward them, a single tear rolled down Ellie’s cheek, and for a moment, she buried her face in Mathilda’s hair.
Please!
Chapter Forty-Four – Poetic Justice
As they chased the moon across the fields, Frederick’s heart alternately burned with rage and ached with guilt. Had Charlotte truly tried to murder his wife in her sleep? His Ellie. His wife. His sweet, innocent wife, who only ever had a caring word for Charlotte.
Why had she done that? He growled under his breath, only to feel the flame of anger doused by the guilt-ridden realisation that he knew the answer to that question only too well. Not Ellie, but he had been Charlotte’s target. Frederick was as certain of it as he was of the sun rising in the east, and deep down, he could even understand why.
After Kenneth’s death, his own guilt had almost consumed him, and he had no trouble understanding why Charlotte had placed blame on him as well.
“Do you truly believe she will be there?” Oliver called, his voice almost drowned out by the deafening howl of the wind.
Instead of answering his friend’s question, Frederick urged on his gelding, guiding him down the small slope and into the thicket of the forest. Only slightly slowing down, the horse found its way along the familiar path, jumping fallen trunks and dodging tree stumps. Before long, the lake of his childhood came into view, the thin crescent reflected in its calm surface, gleaming in the night sky. It had been such a peaceful place when Ellie had taken him there not too long ago.
This night, however, it promised to be the scene of a tragedy.
Scanning their surroundings, their eyes glimpsed little more than vague shadows whenever a dark cloud moved in front of the faint light of the moon and all that remained were minuscule stars shining above their heads as they always did.
As they approached the shoreline, the sky cleared, and Frederick drew in a sharp breath as his eyes fell on a lonely figure, standing knee-deep in the ice-cold water.
“Charlotte!” Oliver called, sliding off his horse, and raced toward the water.
Instantly, she spun around, fixing them with a stare that had Oliver stop in his tracks and froze the blood in Frederick’s veins.
The woman before him might have resembled the Charlotte he had known since childhood. However, the deranged look in her eyes told him that she barely remembered those times.
“What are you doing?” Oliver panted, shaking his head before holding out his hand to her. “Get out of the water!”
Charlotte, however, barely looked at him, her accusing eyes burning a hole into Frederick’s soul. How could he not have seen it before?
“It was you,” she growled low in her throat, and Frederick felt himself reminded of a cornered animal. “You killed him.”
His gaze shifting back and forth between them, Oliver stood at the shoreline, clearly at a loss.
Sliding off his horse, Frederick approached the water, torn about what to do.
Charlotte had been a friend, and on top of that, Kenneth had entrusted her into his care. How could Frederick deny him this last request? He shook his head. Seeing the crazed look in Charlotte’s eyes, he realised that he had already failed him by allowing this to happen.
At the same time, however, Frederick could not banish the image of his wife trapped in her burning bedchamber from his mind, and all feelings of sympathy vanished into thin air.
“Did you set the fire?” Frederick growled, needing confirmation before proceeding any further down this path.
A disturbing grin contorted her soft features before she threw her head back and laughed.
“Did you set the fire?” Frederick snarled, striding forward into the lake. “Answer me!”
Instantly, her laughter stopped, and she stared at him. “Yes!” she hissed, her gaze unflinching.
Frederick gritted his teeth, desperately trying to control the anger that surged through his body as he strode toward her. “Did you lock her in?”
“Yes!”
“Why?” he bellowed, standing merely an arm’s length away from her. “Why? Damn you! Why?” As his pulse hammered in his neck, Frederic
k felt his hands ball into fists, and he desperately wished for something to pummel.
Her face contorted in a snarl, Charlotte took a step toward him, her eyes crazed as they slid over him. “Do you truly need an explanation?” Her lips thinned, and she looked at him with disgust in her eyes. “I wanted you to know what it means to lose the one person you truly need.” She swallowed, then drew in a deep breath. “A life for a life.”
“Then why didn’t you take mine?” Frederick snarled as his muscles began to ache from the exertion of keeping them under control. “Why did you have to go after hers?”
“I tried,” Charlotte said, a hint of disappointment coming to her face. “I tried.”
The realisation hit Frederick like a punch to the gut. It had been Charlotte. She had manipulated the girth on his saddle. She had known which saddle was his. She had known that he would never use another nor allow anyone else to use his. She had known that it had been a gift from his father and that it had a special meaning for him.
I’ve seen her before. At the stables. The day… Mathilda’s small voice rang in his ears.
“It should have been so simple,” Charlotte spat, her words echoing through the night. “You were gulping down one drink after another, so lost were you in your own perceived misery to notice anyone else around you.” Her nostrils flared as she stepped toward him. “Why did you let him take it from you? Why didn’t you hold on to it?”
Staring at her, Frederick swallowed as his mind once more conjured up the night of the Midnight Ball. “Leopold,” he gasped before his gaze found hers, and his eyes narrowed into slits. “You poisoned him! You poisoned my brother!” Like a serpent ready to strike, he shot forward, his hands curling around her throat in an iron grip, squeezing the air from her lungs.
With wide eyes, she stared up at him, her arms hanging limp at her side.
“Frederick, stop!” Oliver’s voice cut through the silence that had suddenly descended upon the lake. “Frederick!” Moments after the sound of churning water reached his ears, strong hands grasped his own, trying to break his hold on Charlotte’s neck.
Endless seconds passed before Oliver managed to loosen Frederick’s hold and pull him back, sending them both stumbling backwards.
Charlotte sank to her knees, rasping breaths tearing from her throat. “Why did you stop him?” she snarled. “Why couldn’t you let him do it?”
Shaking off his friend’s restraining hands, Frederick stared at her. “Is that why you came here? Because you knew I would look for you here?” Stepping closer, he searched her face, unable to believe that the girl he knew had tried to manipulate him into taking her life.
Laughing, she glared at him. “It would have been poetic justice, do you not agree?” Brushing wet strands of hair out of her face, she staggered to her feet. “You killed my fiancé, and now, I killed your wife. I knew you would seek revenge, so here I am. Take it. It’s yours. Kill me, and then you will be ready to kill yourself.”
Staring at her, Frederick shook his head, only now understanding how broken she was, and despite the rage burning in his heart, he could not help but pity her. Could he have ended up like her if Ellie had not saved him? The thought brought an icy chill to his bones.
Swallowing, he met her eyes. “Ellie is not dead.”
The heinous smile slowly slid off her face and was instantly replaced by a look of sheer rage. “You’re lying,” she snarled.
Frederick shook his head. “I am not. She is fine.” Lowering his head a fraction, he looked deep into her eyes. “She and our baby are fine.”
“Baby?” Charlotte whispered, and her eyes grew wide as she stared at him, all anger suddenly gone.
For a moment, before her eyes rolled back and she slumped down into the water, Frederick thought he had seen a glimpse of the old Charlotte, the sweet girl who had always teased him.
As her head disappeared below the water, Frederick and Oliver reached for her, pulling her back to shore.
“What will you do now?” Oliver asked. “Shall we turn her over to the authorities?”
Sighing, Frederick sank down into the grass. “I do not know. But whatever it is, it’ll either be a betrayal of my friend or my brother.” He looked up and met Oliver’s eyes. “What would you do?”
Shaking his head, Oliver sat down beside him. “That I cannot say.”
Chapter Forty-Five – A Sad Story
Almost a week had passed since Frederick and Oliver had returned by the early light of the next day, an apathetic Charlotte with them. Staring into the distance, she had not uttered a single word, and Ellie doubted that she had any idea what was going on around her.
While Oliver kept an eye on their charge, Frederick drew Ellie aside, sharing with her the news he had acquired that night.
Shocked beyond words, Ellie was relieved nonetheless to see boiling emotions under his seemingly calm exterior, and when she looked deep into his eyes, she saw the man she knew him to be. Wrapping her arms around him, she wept with relief that his demons had not gotten a hold of him again. Although the guilt that plagued him was clearly edged in his face, it had not succeeded in squeezing the will to live from his chest as his heart beat steadily beneath her fingers as they rested gently on his chest.
After a quick explanation, they had departed again, taking the carriage to make Charlotte comfortable. Despite his anger, Ellie knew that Frederick still cared for her well-being. Better than anyone, his heart understood how she had lost her way, how her actions had not come from the kind-hearted girl he had known all his life, but from the pain of loss that had overwhelmed her and made her its slave.
Each morning, Ellie glanced out the window of her temporary bedchamber, hoping that Frederick would come home that day. Although she had done her best not to reveal her pregnancy to the rest of her family until Frederick would return, her mother-in-law’s keen eyes had soon noticed the subtle differences that were unique to a woman carrying a child under her heart.
Overjoyed, Theresa and Maryann had congratulated her, expressing their heartfelt joy that after all their heartache finally everything was falling into place. Although touched by their words, Ellie could only force a smile on her face as she knew that both women did not yet comprehend the full truth of Charlotte’s desperate deed.
Before his departure, Frederick had merely told them that she had set the fire in order to avenge her dead fiancé since she blamed him, Frederick, for his death. Too shocked to ask any more questions, Maryann and Theresa had accepted his words and were soon distracted by the comings and goings of everyday life.
Elmridge needed to be restored to its former charm. Fortunately, only Frederick’s and Ellie’s bedchambers had suffered under the fire while the rest of the manor seemed more or less untouched. Only a thick layer of dust and ashes had been carried from room to room. However, after a thorough airing-out−thankfully, temperatures were still pleasant−and an equally thorough cleaning, the majority of the house was just as impressive as it had been before.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
Ellie spun around and a smile spread over her face at the sight of her travel-weary husband. “Rick!” she exclaimed flying into his arms. “You’ve returned.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her. “I hurried back as soon as I could.” He stepped back, gazing into her eyes before they dipped lower to her belly. “Believe me, nothing but a dire emergency could have made me leave you in a time like this. Are you all right?”
Nodding, Ellie smiled. “I feel just as nauseous as I did before.” His brows furrowed in concern. “I actually take that to mean that the baby is fine,” she assured him, and he laughed, guiding her to the settee under the large windows.
As he sat beside her, her eyes travelled over his face, trying to determine the harm the last few days had done. “Tell me,” she whispered.
Clearing his throat, Frederick nodded. “They never suspected anything.”
“Did the
y not notice her absence?”
Frederick nodded. “They did. However, I do not know where they believed her to be.” Rising to his feet, he started pacing. “I don’t know what happened. From what I remember, Charlotte’s parents have always been quite considerate of her wishes, and despite the freedom granted her, Charlotte never took advantage of it. She was always the dutiful daughter.” Turning to look at her, he shrugged his shoulders. “Ellie, I honestly do not understand how they could not have seen her misery.” He shook his head. “I know I did not fully understand the demons that plagued her myself until the night at the lake; however, it still was obvious to me that she was suffering. I simply never thought it my place to offer her comfort.” Sighing, he sat back down beside her and took her hand in his. “I would have, though, had I known that she was so alone.”
Squeezing his hand, Ellie rested her head on his shoulder. “What will happen now? Will they turn her over to the authorities?”
Frederick took a deep breath, and Ellie could feel his muscles flex as contrasting emotions tore at his heart. “No,” he finally said. “They will not.” Sitting back, he turned to look at her. “I could not bring myself to demand it, and I hope Leopold can forgive me.”
Cupping her hand to his face, Ellie looked deep into his eyes. “It is not wrong to show mercy.”
Frederick swallowed. “They will find a place for her in an institution. After all, she needs medical help. Judging from the depth of her pain, she might never fully recover.”
“So, they will lock her away?”
Closing his eyes, Frederick exhaled slowly. “I’m afraid they have to. After what she did to Leopold and what she tried to do to us, she cannot be allowed to live freely. There is no telling what she might do next.”
As the pain tore at his heart, Ellie snuggled closer, slipping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder once more. “Theirs is a sad story,” she whispered. “Kenneth's and Charlotte’s. If only he hadn’t died, they could have had everything.”