Page 21 of Spellbound
Then it was a whirlwind of introductions. The house’s staff all knew who she was. Everyone in Highgate knew who she was, after all. But to their credit, they were all unfailingly polite and respectful. Not a one of them made some strange superstitious hand gesture to ward off the evil eye after having been forced to interact with her.
When they joined Mrs. Hollander in the drawing room, Edwina appeared poised but far from relaxed. “Welcome home, Desmond. And Belladonna,” she said. “I do hope it is all right that I call you that. And you must call me Edwina. Or Win, as Desmond does.”
“Edwina,” Belladonna said. “And I would be very pleased for you to call me by my given name. We are to be family, after all. I haven’t had a family in a very long time.”
Edwina smiled. “It is a good thing to have family. And I hope that you and Desmond will fill this house with children as it should be.”
Bella’s pulse quickened. She hadn’t even considered it. Of course she ought to have. She, better than most women, knew precisely how babies were made, after all. A blush stole into her cheeks as she considered just how likely a possibility it was given their endeavors of the previous evening.And the morning.
“I’m quite certain that we shall do our best, Edwina,” Desmond replied drolly.
“Belladonna, if you’d like, I can go over the household accounts with you tomorrow morning and we can begin transitioning the house into your capable hands.”
“My hands are not at all capable, Edwina. Not of running a house like this,” Bella admitted. “I know that Desmond said you wished to move into town, but I would be ever so grateful if you could find it in your heart to remain here for a bit longer. I would hate to make a mess of everything you’ve accomplished here.”
Edwina smiled. “I shall stay as long as you like. But you must be honest with me and tell me when you wish for me to go. It is no easy thing to be a newly married woman sharing authority over your house with another.”
Bella felt that was an easy enough promise to make thought it would never be kept. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling capable of running a house like Highwood Abbey. Edwina Hollander could stay there as long as she liked.
That afternoon,Desmond went into the village alone. He’d told Belladonna that he was going out for a ride as he didn’t want her to worry. But what he truly wanted, more than anything, was to see Stalker’s face when he got a look at him—alive and well.
His first stop was the local inn. He made a great production of telling everyone there that he was going to visit the reverend. After all, if something did happen to him, he wanted it to be well known what his destination had been. After having insured that his whereabouts would be a mystery to no one, Desmond made his way to the church. Much to his dismay, it was empty. So he tried his luck at the vicarage. But it wasn’t Reverend Lynden Stalker who answered the door. It was a woman who looked tobe so beaten down and broken by life that she could barely lift her head.
“Mrs. Stalker?”
“Yes, sir. May I help you?”
“I am looking for your husband,” Desmond said. “I need to speak with him about a somewhat urgent but altogether unpleasant topic.”
“He isn’t home. He’s gone to Wellsingham to minister to the poor,” she said.
“Wellsingham has its own vicar,” Desmond said. “Why would he need to go there to minister to the poor?”
She did look up then. And while her posture might have indicated she was a woman well trodden by life, the fire blazing in her eyes told another story altogether. “I do not ask my husband such questions, sir. He’d not be inclined to answer them if I did.”
Throwing caution to the wind, he confessed. “Mrs. Stalker, I have every reason to believe that your husband attempted to end my life the other day. As I believe he intends to make an attempt on the life of my new bride, Belladonna, formerly Goodwynne, Crane.”
Her indrawn breath was not shock so much as recognition. “Come in, Mr. Crane. There is much to discuss.”
TWENTY
Belladonna had unpacked her meager belongings. She hadn’t wished to bother a maid when there was so very little of it. There were few servants in the house at any rate, most of them having taken their half day to attend a traveling show in a neighboring village.
Eyeing the lot of it, Belladonna was struck by how shabby they appeared in the master’s suite of Highwood Abbey. She had never aspired to riches in her life. The idea of dressing fashionably or living in leisure had been so far removed from her existence. But she’d need to think about them now.
Looking around her, she sighed. It had been a point of contention about taking the chamber. Initially, she had refused because she felt as though they were evicting Edwina from her personal space. But then Edwina had informed her that she had not stayed in those rooms since the night Thomas had died. Finding out that he had in fact died in those rooms was doubly distressing.
It wasn’t that she feared ghosts. If he was haunting the house, he’d be as benevolent in death as he had in life. It was more than feeling the echoes of such pain and grief in that setting would hardly make it restful. Still, there had been no way to offerup that protest to Edwina without making an already difficult situation worse.
It was while she was placing hairpins and brush in one of the drawers of the dressing table that the gleam of something caught her eye. Tucked into the corner of the drawer was a single gold stick pin, a cravat pin. The initials on it were TFH. Thomas Hollander.
With trepidation, Belladonna picked it up. She would return it to Edwina who was probably beside herself thinking it lost. But the moment she closed her hand around it, she heard the voices. Not in the room with her, or even in the hall beyond. They were in her mind. Shouting at one another. And they were horrifyingly familiar.
Thomas Hollander had argued with Reverend Stalker while wearing that cravat pin. And they’d argued about her. Because Stalker had attempted to sway Thomas to his way of thinking and the man, far too good for this world as Desmond had said, would have no part of it. In fact, he had threatened to have Stalker removed from the parish if he did not halt his hate mongering.
Her stomach heaved and Belladonna fell to the floor, the pin clattering on the wood as it bounced off the carpet. Covering her mouth with her hand, she managed not to retch. When she had calmed herself, she retrieved the pin, but did not hold it in her bare hand. Instead, she picked it up and tucked it into her pocket before going in search of Edwina. She needed to find out the truth and she needed Desmond. Because she feared very much what might happen if Stalker discovered they had wed.
Opening the door, Bella rushed into the corridor but halted almost instantly. Edwina was there. But she was not alone. Standing beside her, his hand gripping her upper arm forcefully enough to bruise, was Reverend Stalker. And in the man’s other hand was a wicked looking blade. Quickly, she considered heroptions. Running was out of the question. She would never leave Edwina to fend for herself. Screaming for help would be futile. There were only a handful of servants in the house and they were all in the kitchens, several floors below. Overpowering him was out of the question, as well. That left only one choice. Outsmarting him.
