Heart of Darkness (27 page)

One of the maids had had to lead her here,
for even in a state of clear-headedness, it would have been
impossible to find the network of rooms through which she had
traveled.

This past week, she had spent her time
exploring the castle and exploring the pleasure that Wolfe and she
inspired in one another.

It was a heady time. Magnificent rather.

She enjoyed discovering new aspects of the
castle's higher levels, which were almost like a beehive in their
structure. It was rather intriguing to start in a bedroom and then
somehow, enter a dining hall that was almost the length of an
ancient oak tree! Or slipping into a large chamber that was laden
down with guns and the heads of a myriad of poor animals and then
opening a door that led to a more feminized version of Wolfe's
study.

However, the beauty of the castle could not
compare to the beauty of what they had discovered together. She was
sure, from Wolfe's enjoyment, that he had not experienced the like
and that made her fiercely happy.

Isabeau tried not to think of the future. A
future without him in it, but now and then it would plague her as
would thoughts of Wolfe's past.

She was ashamed to say that she rarely
thought on his childhood, but the women he'd had during his
adulthood.

Isabeau oft found herself wondering how they
had pleased him and while she was certain that what they had
together was unique, that slight niggle of fear added to her
insecurities where he was concerned.

A part of her realized that she would be
perfectly content to remain here as his mistress. She cared naught
for the title, did not particularly want to be a Duchess. She just
wanted to be his woman.

Isabeau grimaced at the painting before
her.

It was shameful to admit to that. And she,
the daughter of an Earl! And said Earl's only heir, at that! A
lady, who could have married the same rank or higher.

Biting her lip, Isabeau knew that regardless
of what had once been her social standing, she would gladly stay
with Wolfe through hell and high water. She just wished that he
felt the same.

Even though they had shared many a
discussion, he had never made any mention about the future. Nor had
he said anything about the legend.

They had spent the most of their time talking
about their interests, or opinions or about the castle. If anything
was said about the legacy of their race, it was to teach her about
what she was. In that sense, he gave her something that no other
had. Knowledge about the Sidhe. About her true self.

With him by her side, and for the rest of her
life, Isabeau knew that she would and could become more and more
powerful. Already, her abilities to heal were almost trebled in
their strength! And she had also discovered that she had another
talent. One that enabled her to stun humans. Well, they thought so.
So far, it had only worked on one of the many dogs that roamed
about the castle.

It involved charging herself with the healing
power and, even she did not understand the mechanics of it, but her
hair became supercharged and began to float. The color combined
with the movement made her hair, according to Wolfe anyway, appear
like fire. The power made her eyes glow gold. When she had looked
at the dog, it was almost as though he'd been mesmerized.

The stun had lasted for twenty minutes after
she had ceased channeling her power.

Wolfe had told her that she should have been
borne a man and been a soldier. For all her talents seemed to be
defensive. The ability to heal herself, to disguise herself and
now, stun the enemy!

She sighed and peered at a resplendent water
color. Wolfe. Always Wolfe.

Sadly, she studied the beautiful strokes,
when a slight rustling had her stiffening and broke her interlude.
She spun around, expecting to face she knew not what and her eye
was caught on a very, very faint movement in a dark corner of the
room.

With a frown, she walked over to the corner
and sought out the noise that had caught her attention. Isabeau
wished she had Wolfe's power to manipulate the light, but he'd only
taught her to gather the orbs and then shatter them so as to create
optimal illumination.

When she heard a gentle meow, despite the low
volume, she almost jumped out of her skin with fright! Then
realizing that it was only a cat, she bent forward again and heard,
what felt like an entire chorus of mini-meows.

With a big grin on her face, she bent down
and was greeted with the sight of three little kittens. There did
not seem to be any sign of the mama cat and with a frown, she
wondered if the kittens had either been abandoned or if their
mother had simply died.

They were whimpering now and the sound was
enough to tug at her heartstrings. While four years running about
the country in fear for her life had hardened her, it hadn't to the
extent that she could let these little kittens simply remain
here.

Of course, their mother could simply have
gone off hunting and if that was the case, then Isabeau was certain
if she took them back to her own room, the cat would come looking
for her babies.

With a resolute nod, she gathered one of the
little kittens and placed it in the large pocket at the front of
her skirt. Although the castle was scrupulously clean, she somehow
managed to return to her chambers absolutely filthy and on a daily
basis, which more often than not determined what would happen after
she returned to the bedroom...Wolfe would bathe her and very nice
it was too!

Although she enjoyed the baths, she did not
enjoy ruining so many clothes and had asked for an apron. Upon the
front of which was an overlarge pocket and she set two of them in
there, gathered the other under her arm and hushed their whimpers.
Quickly returning to the candelabra, she cautiously bent down
again, this time lowering her knees so that the little kittens
wouldn't fall out of her apron. She banged the brass piece four
times against the floor. The cries grew even louder thereafter and
it was with relief that the orbs of light returned with a rush to
the candelabra and she was able to walk out of the corridor and
back to the corridor in which she was currently staying.

She'd been sleeping with Wolfe for the most
part over this last week, but Isabeau decided to take refuge in his
mother's chambers. She knew that he loved animals, but he might
take umbrage at his bedroom becoming a nursery to three
kittens.

By the time she arrived outside Wolfe's
mother's old room, her arm was aching from the weight of the brass
and it was with relief that she nudged the door knob open with her
elbow and could finally walk into her room and lower the heavy
candelabra to the nearest side table.

She quickly stomped it against the table and
smiled as the room became awash with light. Hurriedly, Isabeau
moved towards her bed and released the little kits on to the
mattress. Then, she tugged the bell to summon one of the maids.

Laughing as she watched the three little
bundles of fluff fall all over each other, Isabeau realized that
they all had different coloring, which was rather strange. There
was one that was black with tiger orange stripes and then a tabby
with black streaks. The third had white and orange stripes, which
was rather amusing and she wondered what pedigree the mama and papa
had.

The maid bustled in, but ducked her head
shyly as she curtsied. “Yes, mum.”

Her accent was thick with the smog of London
and reminded Isabeau unbearably of one of her old governesses. Miss
Clara had been with her from Isabeau's birth until she died when
Isabeau was eleven. Although Miss Clara had had a very polished
diction, there had been many night time stories with characters
talking in the maid's strong voice that Miss Clara had learned from
her numerous positions in the capital.

“Look, Daisy, some little kittens. I found
them in the gallery. Could you bring me some milk? And...well, I'm
not sure what kittens eat, but if you could bring me some scraps or
something?”

“We ain't got no house cats, mum. Ain't
necessary. His Grace managed to rid the castle of rats and mice
many a year ago.”

Isabeau raised a brow at that. “He did?”

“Yes, mum. Talked them into living in the
forest, he did.”

“How novel,” she remarked with a faint grin.
She could just see Wolfe conversing with the head of the castle's
rat population. How on earth had he done that?

“He's mighty clever, mum, but I'd watch out.
If those little pests be from the forest, then it ain't too wise to
separate them from their mum, mum.”

Frowning in incomprehension, Isabeau realized
that Daisy's pronunciation of ma'am and the London term of mum had
the same enunciation.

“If the mother comes she's welcome to take
her babies, but I didn't want them to die in the gallery,
Daisy.”

The maid looked shocked. “As if we'd ever let
that happen, mum! And his Grace neither!”

Realizing that she'd inadvertently caused
offense, she backtracked and murmured, “They were hidden, Daisy. I
didn't mean to say that you'd leave them to die!”

Looking a little mollified, Daisy mumbled,
“Tis alright, mum. But His Grace would have heard them. You mark my
words. Last year, in one of the lofts, there was an owl with a
broken wing. We ain't never had no real cause to go up there. It's
used for storage mainly, mum, but the owl was in pain and was
dying. In truth, I ain't got a clue how it managed to get up there.
So weak it was, mum. But His Grace heard and went up there his very
self!

“His Grace helped to make it better and now,
you can still see old Tinker flying about on some nights. Mrs.
Hardcastle says that it always lived in the woods, but I don't
believe her. She might be housekeeper, but she ain't in
communication with the animals, not like His Grace, mum. I think
Tinker stays to be close to His Grace, like.”

“I'm glad to hear that you still see Tinker,
Daisy,” Isabeau replied with a soft smile. Again, touched by
another display of Wolfe's mastery over the animal kingdom.

“I'll be off for some milk now, mum. And some
scraps.” Daisy bobbed another curtsy and quickly left the room.

Five minutes later, the kittens were
ensconced in a ratty scarf that the maid had found in the rag
cupboard and there was a small dish of bread soaked in milk, which
the kittens had desultorily snacked upon over the last few
moments.

She watched them play for a few moments and
then with a soft smile, noticed they had settled down into a small
triangle of fur balls and were about to sleep.

The scarf-bed was on
her
bed and she decided to sit and
watch them a while. There was something very relaxing about it and
it triggered off a desire to sleep in her own body. The arm that
had carried the candelabra ached and after her adventures roaming
the castle, she felt herself grow drowsy and within moments, fell
asleep.

Then, what felt like mere seconds later, she
awoke and when the sound of ripping tore through the bedchamber,
she realized why! Isabeau sat up with a jolt and was faced with
less carnage than a battle field on the Peninsula! Perhaps that was
a tad melodramatic, but it was the truth nonetheless and the damage
that had been wrought and in such a short period of time was
incredible.

The embroidered duvet that covered the bed
had large tears and holes in and amongst the stitches. Earlier,
she'd checked their tiny paws to see how sharp their claws were and
had felt comfortable in letting them sleep on the bed on top of the
scarf. But apparently, she'd been wrong, to which the disaster area
that had once been Wolfe's mama's bedchamber could attest.

Moaning, she sat up and glimpsed at rugs that
were torn and chairs that were...overturned! How on earth had three
tiny creatures created such havoc? Bottles on the dressing table
were resting on their sides. Some broken, others spilling their
contents on to the surface.

The curtains that hung from the posts on the
bed now had tattered edges and she looked on in horror as she
noticed the ties that gathered the curtains and secured them to the
posts, which when not in use, had tassels on them. That had
probably been like waving a red rag in front of a viper!

The tassels were now battered and the once
opulent wealth of material looked distinctly as though it had seen
many a hard winter and perished!

Isabeau glanced around with despair as she
noticed more and more sights of destruction and she wondered how on
Earth she would tell Wolfe! She damned herself for having slept
through this onslaught of almost military proportions!

“Oh my goodness!” she cried and stared down
at the angelic-looking visages of the little kittens. “How could
you do this?” Isabeau scolded. “You naughty things. What on Earth
am I going to tell Wolfe?”

“What are you going to tell me about what?”
came a loud voice from the doorway and she stiffened then spun
around to face him.

“Wolfe! I'm so sorry. I had no idea that they
would make such a mess.”