Chapter Nineteen
A chill passed down Carys’s spine as she stared at the long, long list of names spread out before her. Morgana’s name stood out in bold ink at the very top in the thick lettering of her time. The writing gradually softened as it reached the bottom of the scroll. Her great-grandmother’s name was written in a fine, elaborate hand.
Carys reached out to touch the scroll with a shaking hand. It was almost as if Morgana’s anger had subsided slowly over the years as the handwriting of whichever scribes had recorded successive generations lost sight of the emotion of the curse.
“Who is responsible for writing these names over the years?” Dunstan asked, coming up to stand protectively behind Carys.
“I do not know,” Carys said, shaking her head as she continued to pore over the names. “I have never heard of this list in my life.”
“Look at the date of the last entry, Annamarie,” Minnie said, shifting her hand from where she was, out of necessity, holding the bottom of the piecemeal parchment so that it did not roll up again, as it seemed inclined to do.
Half a dozen heads tilted, and even Napoleon came over to see what was so interesting, as everyone who was crowded around to gawk at the scroll looked. Annamarie’s entry began with 1705, but there was no date of death.
“One could surmise that whoever was responsible for maintaining entries on the scroll either died or failed to pass on this duty to the next generation,” Lord Waldorf said from the back of the group looking at the scroll.
Carys blinked and turned to look at the cluster of Godwins around her. “My great-great-grandmother, Annamarie’s mother, died suddenly after falling from the castle battlements during a storm,” she said. “My great-grandmother was only an infant at the time.”
“Then it stands to reason that knowledge of this scroll and the importance of recording the names was lost after her,” Lady Katherine said, exchanging a nod with her husband, as if the two of them had resolved a mystery.
“Do you think it was the curse that pushed her from the battlements?” Lord Arnold asked, stepping back from the cluster and turning to Mr. Entwistle.
Mr. Entwistle shrugged. “Was the curse placed upon the castle itself or upon the Godwin family.”
“It was placed upon the family,” Edgar spoke up, half sobbing, from the other end of the room, where Danny still held him. “I could have broken it. I could have broken the curse and had all of this and prospered.”
“You were never entitled to any of it,” Lord Gerald growled, as if he was done with the argument.
Carys caught her breath, though. There was a distinct possibility that Edgar was correct. “You were not pursuing my hand because you wanted someone to take care of you, now that your sisters have all married,” she said, stepping away from the table and the Godwins to walk back toward Edgar. “You wished to marry because you thought in doing so you would break the curse.”
“Yes,” Edgar said, slumping in Danny’s hold. “But I would have treated you well,” he went on, straightening again. “I would have treated you a damn sight better than Aethelbore treated Morgana.”
“Careful,” Lord Gerald said, glowering as he rounded on Edgar. “That is my ancestor you are insulting.”
“He’s my ancestor, too, whether you wish to acknowledge it or not,” Edgar said, tilting his chin up. In his current state of mess, he looked more pathetic and desperate than strong, however.
“She does not love you,” Dunstan said, marching over to stand by Carys’s side. He even rested a hand on her back, despite what the gesture implied. “How could you possibly expect to break a curse placed by a woman scorned in love if she did not love you?”
“That is a good point,” Lord Gerald said.
“And the amulet,” Minnie added, leaving the scroll and rushing up to say her piece. The rest of the family who had been gathered at the other end of the table shifted as well, Napoleon following once again, like they were all players in a comedic farce. “Do not forget the amulet.”
“The curse stipulates not only that a Godwin must marry a Whitney, or as that family is now fashioned, a Weatherby,” Lady Katherine said, “but that the two halves of the amulet must be reunited.”
“So it is all in vain, then?” Lady Bernadette asked, glancing first at her husband, then at the rest of the Godwins. “Even if Mrs. Weatherby marries Lord Dunstan, which I sincerely hope she does, since we have gone to a great deal of effort to pair the two of them together, the curse would still remain intact because of an amulet that has been lost to time?”
A heavy silence filled the room. While the rest of the family glanced to each other for answers, Carys turned to Dunstan.
She did not know what to say, particularly not with the entirety of Dunstan’s family, at least the ones who were present at Godwin Castle for yuletide, watching them. She wanted to say that she would marry him in a moment, if he were to ask her now. She could not say what it was, but the knowledge that she was a direct descendant of Morgana Whitney and that Dunstan was, of course, a direct descendant of Aethelbore changed everything.
No, that was not what had changed things. And it could be argued that things had not changed at all from the love she had always had for her dear friend. What had changed was their awareness of each other. Curse or no curse, the times Carys had spent with Dunstan in the castle were among the most beautiful and happy of her life. She had not felt any curse at all while laughing over small, silly things with Dunstan in the last few years, and she had most definitely not felt cursed as the two of them had tangled in the throes of passion.
The smile that Dunstan sent her in return and the way he took her hand and clutched it to his beating heart were all the answer to the longings of her heart that she needed. No curse could touch the two of them, whether it was broken or not, as long as they loved each other.
Part of Carys was convinced that a proposal was imminent as Dunstan opened his mouth to speak, but before more than a quick sound could escape his lips, Ruby dashed into the room.
“My lord! My Lord Dunstan! You must come quickly!” she shouted, already breathless as she headed across the room.
The poor, brave woman was covered in soot from head to toe, which caused her eyes to stand out like moons on her face.
“What is it, girl?” Lord Gerald asked, impatiently but not unkindly, stepping toward her.
Ruby stopped short as she seemed to realize the entire family and all of her betters were gathered there. She gave a quick yelp when she saw that Edgar was part of the crowd as well.
Carys let go of Dunstan and hurried across the room to console the young woman. “What is it, Ruby?” she asked, taking the young woman’s shaking hand. “Have you had any rest since the fire?”
Ruby shook her head tightly, glancing past Carys to Dunstan. “You must come quickly. There’s writing on the wall.”
Carys frowned as she glanced at Dunstan, who was frowning as well.
“What do you mean?” Dunstan asked, striding across the room to them.
The rest of the family moved as well, like the very best Greek chorus.
Ruby gulped and panted for a moment, gazing up at Dunstan as though he were an angel, then said. “On the wall. Writing. In the stone. Because of the fire.”
A murmur of confusion passed through the family.
Carys had no idea what Ruby meant. She nodded, taking Ruby’s hand, and said, “You’d better show us.”
“Yes!” Ruby gasped, overexcited. “It’s in the wall! Come!”
A few curious, excited glances passed between the members of the Godwin family as everyone shifted into movement, following Ruby out of the library and back down the hall toward the ancient section of the castle. Lord Gerald moved with speed, proving once again that he was not as frail as he liked to pretend to be, as he pushed his way up to the front of the parade.
The old part of the castle still stank of smoke and burning wood. The valiant servants of the castle, who had worked so selflessly to put the fire out before it could spread and damage more of their home, were still working, removing charred remains of furniture and singed wall hangings from Dunstan’s bedroom.
A pang filled Carys’s heart as Ruby led her and Dunstan into the destroyed room. Just a short time ago, she had spent an evening of passion and happiness in that very room. Now, it was eerie and uncomfortable to look at. The entire interior was blackened, and almost all of Dunstan’s fine things, the ones that had not been taken out of the room, were burnt beyond recognition.
“There!” Ruby said, pointing a shaking finger at the blackened remains of Dunstan’s bed.
At first, Carys could not imagine what Ruby was pointing at. The head of the bed was almost completely destroyed. It looked as though the hangings and canopy had taken the brunt of the fire. The wood paneling behind the bed had burned away completely, exposing the stone of the wall behind it.
“How did this fire begin?” Lord Gerald demanded. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
Edgar had been dragged along with the rest of the family to witness the carnage. “I…I never intended for this,” he groaned. “I was only trying to frighten them. I thought surely they would put the fire out before it caught like this.”
“How did you light it?” Lord Waldorf asked.
“I threw a brick through the window, and then a flaming bottle of oil after it,” Edgar said. “I was certain they would be abed, that they would see the flames at once and douse them.”
“You could have killed us all,” Lord Waldorf growled.
Carys only partially heard the confrontation. As one of the other servants who had been working to clear the debris in the room, likely to make sure there were no more embers, moved his lantern closer to the now exposed stone wall, she saw what Ruby had been going on about and gasped.
“Dunstan, look!” she whispered, almost reverently, grabbing Dunstan’s arm.
Ruby was entirely correct. The writing was on the wall. There, written in the stone of the castle itself, directly behind what had been the head of Dunstan’s bed, were carved the words, “ Here lies Morgana Whitney, beloved of Aethelbore and forever in his heart .”
One by one, as other members of the family saw the writing, gasps filled the sooty, smokey space and stretched out into the hall.
“It couldn’t be,” Dunstan said, stepping forward.
“Dunstan, do be careful,” Lord Alden said, though he stepped forward as well.
Carys’s heart was in her throat as the two brothers moved toward the destroyed bed and everything that had been revealed behind it. Anxiety filled her as she remembered the bit of ceiling that had fallen down on Dunstan in the old study below. Chances were that the floor under the bed had been damaged, and if they were not careful, they would fall through, causing another tragedy.
“Have a care for the floor!” Carys called out, stepping forward just as there was a loud crack.
Moments later, the bed jolted and sagged dangerously as part of it did exactly what Carys feared and sank through the floor. More than that, the wall that bore the writing cracked and came apart as well, sending rubble flying across the bed.
Ruby screamed and leapt back from the macabre sight, and the family members that were near the door raced back into the hall, as if the entire floor were in danger of collapsing. Dunstan grabbed Alden and pulled him back to the side of the room along with Ruby. Carys pressed herself against the wall nearest to her as well.
The floor did not cave in entirely. The only part that had been damaged was around the bed. The integrity of the rest of the room kept even the bed from falling through the floor entirely.
It was the wall that demanded the most attention, however. It continued to crumble because of the pressure and fire damage, sending more stones toppling. For a moment, Carys was convinced that entire section of the castle was about to fall in on itself, but as light from the various lanterns in the room shone into the space created by the tumbled stones, she saw that it was not a supporting wall at all.
“There’s something in there,” Dunstan said, shifting away from Lord Alden and peering into the space that had been revealed by the tumbling wall.
“Of course there’s something in there,” Lord Arnold’s voice sounded from the hall. “The writing said it is Morgana’s final resting place, after all.”
That seemed to energize both Dunstan and Alden. The two of them exchanged a look, then moved in to clear away more of the stones from the falling wall.
“Are the two of you mad?” Lord Gerald called out to them, his face white and filled with concern. “The whole thing could come down on you, killing you both.”
“We have to reach her,” Dunstan said. “We have to end this.”
Carys was more inclined to agree with Lord Gerald that the two men were taking far too great a risk by attempting to widen the gap in the wall. Even when she saw that there was something large and metal behind the stones, she clasped a hand to her heart, barely able to breathe with fear that the castle would crumble and kill them.
By some mad miracle, not only did the floor hold up for them, the stones came away easily, revealing what was almost certainly an iron casket.
“We need help,” Dunstan groaned as he and Lord Alden grabbed hold of the casket and began to pull it out of the wall.
“This is ridiculous,” Lord Waldorf said, coming forward, along with Lord Cedric and Lord Lawrence. Even Mr. Entwistle stepped forward to help, though it could mean the end of his life if the weight of all the men and the casket itself broke the floor. Lord Arnold sighed and stepped forward last of all, just as the combined efforts of the men dislodged the casket from its resting place within the wall.
“Move out of the way,” Carys told Lord Gerald and the Godwin brides as they crowded into the doorway to watch what was happening with looks of terrified expectation. “They need a clear path to get the casket out.”
Somehow, miraculously, the men were able to slide the iron casket entirely into their arms and carry it across the cracking floor. They did not stop when they reached the door, carrying it through and into the stability of the hallway. Carys, Ruby, and the footmen who were still in the room left with them.
As soon as every soul was out of the room, there was an almighty crack and the bed fell through the floor entirely.
“This might be the most terrifying night of my life!” Minnie exclaimed as they all rushed as fast as they could back to the library, sounding a bit too happy about it as she did.
The casket obviously weighed quite a bit, from the strain on the faces of the men carrying it, but working together, they were all able to transport it the length of the hallway and into the library. Once there, the ladies hurried to clear off one of the benches that had been piled with books and diaries so that the casket could be laid there.
“It is a beautiful thing,” Lady Bernadette observed breathlessly, once the casket was in place and everyone stepped back from it. Everyone but Napoleon, who leapt onto the bench and began to sniff the iron. “The craftsmanship is astounding.”
Indeed, the casket, though ancient and weathered, was a work of art. It had been carved with branches and flowers, all intertwining. Carys imagined that it must have rested, undisturbed, within the bedroom wall for nearly a thousand years. It was incredibly well-preserved, as it had been sealed away for so long. It did not look as though a bit of damp had touched it. It could do with a polish, but that didn’t detract from the beauty of the workmanship.
“What do we do with it?” Lady Muriel breathed in awe, clutching Lord Cedric’s arm as they all continued to stare.
“I think we need to open it,” Dunstan said.
All eyes snapped to him.
“Open it?” Lord Waldorf said. “Are you mad?”
Dunstan shook his head. “No. Not mad. The curse says that the halves of the amulet must be reunited. We already know that one half is in the castle vault, though I worry the vault itself has been lost, and the legends and stories we’ve uncovered in the last few days say the other half is buried with Morgana.” He gestured to the casket. “The other half of the amulet is in there.”
“We can break the curse if we open it,” Minnie gasped, her face alight with joy.
“Very well, then,” Lord Gerald said, eyeing the casket uncertainly. “Open it. If you can.”
The Godwin men exchanged looks with each other, as if daring the others to be the first one to step forward and give it a try.
Carys beat them to it. She approached the casket, crouching a bit to see if she could determine how it might be opened. Napoleon jumped away as she did. Generally, caskets of that sort were sealed tight to prevent not only precisely what they were proposing to do now, but also to prevent the decay of the corpse inside. She had heard stories of caskets that had been sealed for centuries, only to be opened later. The bodies within them had been preserved almost entirely.
Morgana’s casket had iron latches all around the edges. They were fairly easy to open, but the lid continued to stick once they were freed.
“Let’s see if we can shift it,” Dunstan said, stepping forward and grabbing the edge of the lid.
The other Godwin men stepped forward and grasped parts of the lid as well, and on the count of three, they all shoved.
At first, nothing happened. Then, with a subtle cracking sound, the lid suddenly moved. Once loosened, the efforts of the men were enough to push it all the way aside, sending it crashing to the floor and frightening Napoleon all the way to the other side of the room.
Carys gasped as she gazed into the casket. Lying there on a bed of crumbling fabric, dressed in a blue, embroidered gown was a woman. Her dark hair fanned around her, and her wrinkled face was still intact, though the skin had pulled tight and discolored with age.
It was her eyes that shocked Carys down to the core of her being. For a few, terrifying seconds after the casket was opened, they were open and whole, their deep, blue depths staring accusingly up at the Godwin men circled around her. Then, as the air washed over her, they quickly dissolved into dust.
“Oh, dear God!” Lady Bernadette cried out, then turned away to hide her face against Lady Katherine’s shoulder.
Carys was equally horrified, but in an instant, it was not the gruesome sight of Morgana’s body that captured her attention. There was a piece of parchment placed over Morgana’s skirt with words written in the bold lettering of ancient times. More startling than that, a large, silver ring carved with knots and set with stones exactly like Carys’s brooch rested over Morgana’s heart.