Chapter Twenty-one
Marcus is standing where he discovered Charlotte’s body. The blood remains, red and ominous as ever. However, with a simple blink, her body has vanished, and Marcus is frightened and confused.
“Marcus,” says a voice from behind him.
Marcus turns to see Charlotte standing behind him.
She is wearing her blue dress, but unlike the snow, it is no longer stained with her lifeblood.
There is no wound, nor any indication that she has befallen any horrible fate.
But Marcus notices something else; she is surrounded by a bright, golden light.
“Charlotte?” he asks, terrified to move for fear of watching her dissolve before his eyes. “I do not understand.”
Charlotte is within inches of him in an instant, and she places a finger on his lips.
“I have little time,” she whispers with a gentle smile. “You must listen. There is something you must know, and something you must do. You will die, Marcus. You must fight for your life and claim that which is yours.”
Marcus shakes his head, confused.
“I do not understand,” he repeats. “Who did this to you? How are you speaking with me? I saw you. You were dead…”
Charlotte shakes her head, silencing him once more.
“You are in grave danger, Marcus,” she says. “You must open your eyes and see things as they truly are. The answer is near, Marcus. See, Marcus. Before it is too late.”
Marcus glances around wildly, unsure what his ward means.
There is nothing, save for the blood in the snow, which gives any indication of what she could mean.
He turns to face Charlotte once more, but she and the golden light are gone.
Not gone, he realizes as he faces the opposite direction.
In the distance is a faint golden glow and a small blue streak.
And on the edge of the light, something moves.
It is fast and shrouded in shadow. But there is enough time to glimpse that it is a person. A man…
“Forgive yourself,” Charlotte’s voice whispers as if speaking directly inside his mind. “Save yourself…”
Marcus awakened with a start. He looked around the darkened room, relieved at first to find himself in his bed.
However, Charlotte’s cryptic words lingered in his mind.
What did she mean by ‘the answer was near?’ What was he supposed to save himself from?
He wanted to dismiss the dream as something conjured by his illness.
But he could still hear her voice as if she had been sitting right beside him, speaking to him only a moment before.
And how could he ever forgive himself? Her killer remained undiscovered.
He could not afford forgiveness until he had brought the person who stole her life to justice.
Another fit seized him, and he trembled violently in his bed.
His eyes fell shut, and his jaw tightened against the pain in his head and chest. When it was over, he stopped, abruptly and limply on his bed, coated in sweat and on the edge of unconsciousness once more.
Before he slipped back into the black abyss, another voice filled his ear.
“Open your eyes, darling,” a voice which he instinctively knew belonged to his mother whispered fondly. “Open your eyes…”
***
It took all of Adelaide’s strength to wait until nightfall to slip away.
Edith had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, and Helena was still sitting with the dowager duchess, trying to soothe her.
Adelaide herself was on the verge of hysteria.
But she knew that Marcus needed her. And she was sure that she would go madder than all the other women combined if she did not see him.
She clung to the shadows of the darkening mansion as she sneaked through the corridors and to Marcus’s chamber door.
She took a deep breath, silently encouraging herself as she stepped inside.
Finding Marcus collapsed in the library did nothing to prepare her for what she saw. He lay on his bed, his limbs splayed and trembling as if he was in the throes of another seizing episode. She rushed to his side, taking his cold, sweaty hand and squeezing it gently.
“Marcus,” she whispered, her tears threatening to burst forth from her like a broken dam. “Marcus, can you hear me?”
Marcus fell deathly still, and Adelaide’s heart dropped. However, after a long, agonizing moment, Marcus opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Mother,” he croaked, looking through her, rather than past her.
Adelaide’s heart ached. She knew his mother died when he was very young. For him to think he was his mother was a terrible indication of his heath.
“No, Marcus,” she said, choking back tears. It would not do to upset him, even if he did not know who she was.
He paused for a moment, and Adelaide watched his eyes regain focus. He struggled to remain with her, rather than slipping back into the darkness of the most dangerous sleep. She leaned closer, giving him a warm smile, despite the emotion that threatened to claim her.
“Adelaide?” he murmured, his voice thick with fever and unconsciousness, but filled with recognition and affection.
Adelaide sobbed with relief, wrapping her arms around her lover.
“Yes, Marcus, it is me,” she said, silently thanking the heavens that he was still with her.
Marcus groaned, slowly shifting his arms and legs back into positions that resembled normalcy. He looked up at Adelaide, who sat on the edge of his bed as he fought to speak again.
“Adelaide, I am sorry,” he said, reaching with a weak hand to stroke her face. “I know how frightened you must be.”
Adelaide shook her head, smiling through her tears.
“You only need to worry about getting better,” she said, kissing him softly on the forehead.
Marcus gave her a tired smile, his hand falling onto her lap. She took it in both of hers as he grunted again.
“I do not know if… If I…” he said, wincing as his entire body tensed. Adelaide prepared for another episode, but he gradually relaxed.
“You need not say anything, darling,” Adelaide cooed. “Rest now. There will be plenty of time for talking when you recover.”
Marcus’s head lolled, and Adelaide thought he was trying to shake it. But he took a big, labored breath and turned back to face her.
“Will you stay with me, Adelaide?” he asked, sounding more vulnerable than ever.
Adelaide kissed his hand, nodding fervently.
“I will not leave you, dear,” she whispered.
Marcus nodded, opening his mouth to speak again. But approaching footsteps interrupted their tender moment, and she looked at Marcus with wide eyes.
“Hide,” Marcus hissed, sudden strength returning to his voice. “Keep out of sight. You may not be safe if you are discovered.”
Adelaide frowned, confused. She wanted to ask what he meant, but the footsteps were upon Marcus’s chamber door. She slipped into the shadows, hiding behind the heavy curtains pulled shut across his window. She had just stilled their movement when the door opened.
She could see nothing but blackness, and she dared not move for fear of discovery. She wondered what worried Marcus enough that he forced her to hide. Why was he concerned about her safety when he was the one lying in bed near death?
“How long do you believe his current condition will persist?” Lord Edwin asked, startling Adelaide so badly that she nearly gave away her hiding place.
A low, deep voice made a throat clearing sound, tapping on something that sounded like glass.
“The body, although delicate, is complex,” said an unfamiliar voice. “It is difficult to be precise with such predictions. However, I am confident that it will not be much longer.”
Adelaide could not move. She guessed based on the discussion that the other voice belonged to Mr. Fletcher. Yet his words were cold and ominous. Physicians should evoke feelings of warmth and hope. Why did Adelaide feel as though he had injected ice into her veins?
“Not long?” Lord Edwin asked. “This is excellent news. However, we did discuss how this must look to everyone.”
The alleged physician chuckled dryly.
“I assure you I did not earn my reputation by fulfilling anything less than my word,” he said.
“Precision takes patience, my lord. Patience, and faith in the results. You have seen the results thus far, including how different the past few days were compared to today. Everything will go to your satisfaction, my lord. That is a promise.”
Adelaide covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. Anyone else might have thought they were discussing beneficial treatments for Marcus. Perhaps Adelaide might have, as well. However, when Lord Edwin spoke again, her worst fears were confirmed.
“It is rather odd how unpredictable life can be, is it not?” he asked with satisfied smugness. “It will be a terrible shame to see my cousin’s heavy burdens claim him.”
Adelaide did not dare to breathe. Tears fell from her eyes and down the back of her hand, but she did not dare peek from behind the drapes until she heard two sets of footsteps approach Marcus’s chambers.
She strained to listen for the click of the closing door, breathing a sigh of relief when she heard two muffled sets of feet moving away from the door.
She stepped out from behind the curtain, horrified to find Marcus motionless. She placed her head on his chest, praying he still lived. She heard the slow but steady beat of his heart and a raspy rhythm as he drew and released delayed breaths. He was unconscious again, but he was still alive.
She collapsed into the chair beside Marcus as the pale moonlight offered the only source of light in the room, and she silently wept.
She wished she could convince herself that she was as mad as she thought she was.
But the ominous tones and lack of affection gave the words spoken by the men a sinister tone.
There was something happening to Marcus, and it seemed like there was someone behind it.
Was the cryptic conversation between Lord Edwin and the physician truly innocent and her worry made her think there was something more to it?
Were Lord Edwin and Mr. Fletcher behind Marcus’s illness?
Were they covering for whoever was responsible?
Adelaide did not know. However, she knew that Marcus would die if something was not done, and she was helpless on her own.
What if the people she thought she could trust about the situation were the most untrustworthy?
Marcus stirred a few moments later, his fever-bright eyes fixing on her face, which she tried to hurriedly wipe to keep him from seeing her tears.
“Be careful, Adelaide,” he rasped, grimacing as he tried to move in his bed.
Adelaide placed a finger on his lips.
“Hush, darling,” she said, rubbing his arm gently. “Do not try to move. Everything is all right.”
Marcus shook his head, grabbing her hand and gripping it with surprising strength. The heat of his skin burned hers as she smoothed back his sweat-dampened hair, and Adelaide realized it was a wonder he was still alive with a fever so high.
“Promise me that you will be cautious,” he said, his gaze focused and intense, despite the illness trying to claim him. “They are dangerous. You must be cautious. Trust… no one…”
Adelaide nodded fervently. She did not know who he meant, or if he was sure who he meant, either. But she understood it was important to him that she agreed.
“I promise, darling,” she said. “I will be cautious.”
Marcus nodded, relaxing back against his pillow.
“Thank you,” he said. “Charlotte… that night… murdered her.”
Adelaide froze. Was he about to confess to the murder Adelaide had convinced herself he could never commit?
“Hush now, my love,” she murmured, hoping to coax him back to sleep. If he was about to give such a confession, she never wanted to hear it. She could keep believing he did no such thing. If he admitted it to her, however, just as with their intimacy in the library, there could be no return.
Marcus shook his head again, tightening his grip on her hand.
“Thomas, he…” he paused to draw a raspy breath. “He knew. He knew the secret. Charlotte knew… they tried…”
Adelaide steeled herself for what she was sure was coming. She patted her lover’s hand gently, knowing that what he said next could shatter the fragile bond they had.
“Tried to what, Marcus?” she whispered, regretting the words the moment she spoke them.
Marcus squirmed in obvious discomfort. She thought he would seize again, but he settled soon after.
“Tried to warn me,” he continued. “They knew… Saw Charlotte tonight. She told me… Edwin was… they knew something I did not… Charlotte paid the price…”
Adelaide had never felt so simultaneously relieved and horrified in the same instant.
Marcus was not confessing to Charlotte’s murder.
He was trying to tell her that Charlotte knew something she was not supposed to know, something he did not know, and that was what got her killed.
She thought she understood who he was saying was guilty, but his delirium-induced words became more jumbled and unclear until the fever claimed him, and he fell unconscious.
She did not understand what he meant about seeing Charlotte that night.
That was not possible. Yet she knew the words meant something, which was enough for her.
The strange and threatening notes under her door suddenly made sense.
They were from the person who had killed Charlotte, and Adelaide was now certain they were not written in Marcus’s penmanship.
However, the pattern was clear to her, even without a definitive suspect.
Someone would go to any lengths to protect their secrets, and Charlotte’s fate proved that.