Chapter 21
Margaret and Arabella sat at the breakfast table quite silently, lost in their own tense thoughts, while Charlotte chattered happily about what a beautiful morning it was. She may have seemed oblivious to their discomfort but tentatively attempting to draw them out from their dark moods.
‘Sister, shall we visit town tomorrow? There is a new boutique I wish to visit. Marjorie Simpkins mentioned they have the most darling dresses!’
Arabella smiled quietly. ‘Yes, Charlotte. That would be lovely.’
In truth, a clothes shopping trip was the last item on Arabella’s list of desires, but she was eager to sustain Charlotte’s innocence concerning this precarious situation; the less she suspected, the safer she would remain.
Charlotte clapped her hands happily. ‘Oh, wonderful! It will be such fun, Arabella! Let’s work to get you smiling again!’
Arabella was grateful Charlotte had not pushed her further for justification of her low mood, but she knew that on their shopping trip, she would need to feign a joyous disposition to ward off the questions.
Suddenly, Marcus appeared in the doorway. The silence with which he had approached suggested he had tiptoed, for his footsteps could always be heard. All three ladies turned to look, and he shot each of them with narrowed eyes, a vicious expression.
‘Were you talking about me?’ he demanded.
Arabella and Charlotte looked at each other in consternation.
‘No, Lord Wellwood. We were discussing a shopping trip–’ Arabella told him.
In the loaded pause that followed, the ladies tensed up, poised for an outburst. But instead, Marcus laughed raucously and hastily crossed to take a seat. He grabbed a pastry and stuffed it into his mouth before even sitting in his chair. Margaret averted her eyes in shame.
‘Did you sleep well last night, Mother?’ Marcus asked, through a mouthful.
Margaret attempted a watery smile. ‘Quite deeply, son.’
‘Then why did I hear footsteps up and down the place in the early hours of the morning?’ Marcus demanded. Margaret started and began to quiver.
Marcus turned quickly to Charlotte.
‘And upon investigation, I saw you!’ He pointed accusingly at Charlotte.
Arabella felt her heartbeat escalate in panic. It was the first time she had been in Marcus’s presence with the confirmed knowledge that he was a killer, and her whole body bristled from being in such close proximity to him.
Now he was confronting her sister with such a violent tone that Arabella’s adrenaline coursed through her, and her protective defences kicked in.
‘It was I, Lord Wellwood! I do apologize if my movements disturbed you.’
Marcus turned and fixed her with a stern stare.
Arabella internally instructed herself to breathe easily.
If he had accused Charlotte, claiming he had seen her, then it assured Arabella he had not actually gone to investigate, nor seen anybody.
He was bluffing in a bid to discover the truth of who was moving about in the early hours before dawn.
‘What were you doing?’ Marcus hissed.
‘I could not sleep. I have suffered a megrim this past week, which has seen me resting a lot during the day. Now I am feeling better, I believe my body is telling me to wake up!’ Arabella feigned a laugh, hoping to insert some levity into the conversation.
Marcus continued to stare at her. Margaret blinked rapidly with watery eyes, and Charlotte laughed along with Arabella, attempting to lighten the situation.
‘There you are then, Lord Wellwood!’ Charlotte smiled. ‘It was not me you saw!’
‘How dare you insinuate I was mistaken!?’ Marcus slammed his hand down on the table loudly and stood over Charlotte as he yelled in her face.
Charlotte shrank back in her chair, paling and visibly shaken. Margaret let out a slight bleat of concern, and Arabella was poised to leap across the table to intervene, but she purposely held herself back.
Marcus stood dominantly over Charlotte, as the ladies waited for him to either calm down or do something shocking.
After a moment laden with heightened tension, Margaret reached out to Marcus with a trembling, frail arm. ‘Perhaps you should go and rest if you were woken early, my dear …’ she consoled him.
Marcus recoiled from her touch, seething.
‘Everybody is watching me!’ He slammed his palm on the table again. ‘Will everybody just stop watching me!’ Marcus yelled at the top of his voice and stormed out of the room.
Charlotte was shaking, close to tears, and Arabella reached out to touch her arm, in the hope of calming her.
‘He’s just like his uncle!’ Charlotte sobbed. Her eyes went to Margaret. ‘I am sorry, Lady Wellwood. I should not say anything, but his actions frighten me …’
Margaret and Arabella said nothing as they watched Charlotte with wild eyes as she said the words they had been dreading.
‘He is mad, just like his uncle.’
***
‘Miss Charlotte!’ Thomas crossed the morning room in three direct strides, and Charlotte stood at his greeting. ‘Are you hurt?’
The look of relief on Charlotte’s face was palpable as Thomas showed his concern. ‘No. Thank you. I am quite well … just a little shaken.’
Thomas cast his eyes around the room, meeting Arabella’s anxious expression with a sombre knowing and looking to Margaret with a gentlemanly bow, laden with an apologetic grace. It was not lost on him that the worry he attended with was essentially accusing her son of some wrongdoing.
‘Will you walk with me, Miss Charlotte?’ Thomas was keen to extricate Charlotte from the increasing threat of the house where Marcus roamed.
‘I would be happy to, thank you, Lord Carrington.’
The couple departed, and Arabella noticed her sister was still shaking as she went, despite the season’s warm sunshine.
Alone in the room, Arabella turned to Margaret, and they simply looked at one another blankly for a few moments.
‘He is getting worse, much worse,’ Margaret declared in a tone of devastation.
‘He is,’ Arabella asserted. ‘And his presence becomes more sinister, more alarming …’
Margaret nodded regretfully. ‘I no longer recognize my own son.’
Arabella considered going to Margaret and offering her hand in comfort, but she felt an energy from her ladyship, which suggested she needed a moment of solitude.
Arabella walked to the window to look out across the lawns, wondering what the most sensible next step would be to keep them all safe.
As she stared out at the blue sky and horizon of lush green grass, Charlotte and Thomas walked along the path down below. They stopped as Thomas said something, and Charlotte launched her arms around him. His arms enveloped her protectively, and Charlotte buried her face in his shoulder.
It was clear from the tremor in her shoulders that she was crying. The chaperone who stood nearby, respectably turned her face away from the apparent grief.
‘Oh …’ Arabelle involuntarily empathized.
Her reaction caused Margaret to shift from her chair and, leaning heavily on her cane, she crossed the room to join Arabella at the window.
‘Oh dear …’ she agreed as she saw poor Charlotte crying on Thomas’s shoulder.
‘I am pleased she has somebody safe to go to, to confide in and comfort her …’ Arabella mused, partly to herself.
‘I wish that for you too, my dear–’ Margaret said in a hushed voice. Arabella met her pained expression with a look of understanding.
‘He cannot be permitted to continue hurting people …’ Margaret asserted, and they both knew, without her speaking his name, that she was talking about Marcus.
‘The madness has entirely taken his mind now.’ Margaret’s voice tremored as she said it. ‘There is no predicting what measures he would go to now, to protect his dark secrets.’
Arabella blinked sympathetically at Margaret and turned her attention back to the window, where Charlotte and Thomas now walked beside one another, with their chaperone trailing behind.
‘Promise me, Arabella,’ Margaret said, her voice firmer now and her face set with a determined alertness that Arabella had not witnessed for several months. ‘That you will ensure Charlotte stays close to Thomas?’
Arabella looked at Margaret in alarm.
‘He is a good man. I trust him, and he will take care of her,’ Margaret continued.
‘Do you believe Charlotte to be in some direct danger?’ Arabella asked, her chest a flurry of panic.
‘Not directly. But Marcus sees threats everywhere now, and he reacts to them with volatility. I fear that curious young women asking questions could provoke him to a state of irrational impropriety.’
Arabella returned her gaze to the window, watching her innocent sister, whom she loved more than anything.
At that moment, she felt a visceral pang of sympathy for Alexander, as she realized this protective love of a sibling was exactly the way he had felt about Marcus and why accepting his brother’s altered status as a manipulative killer felt so utterly mortifying.
‘I promise I will do my utmost to protect her,’ Arabella said and turned away so that Margaret did not see the tears that crept into her eyes.