Lady Eugenia's Holiday (8 page)

She entered the library with great caution. To her
surprise, she spotted a dim shaft of light emanating between two of the
built-in bookcases and falling upon the floor. With a bit of prying, she soon
discovered the bookcases were not built-in at all.

It took very little effort to move them apart. The
hidden door revealed a dimly illuminated hallway carved from rock. The door
latched behind her as she stepped through. She realized then, whether she
wanted to or not, there would be no turning back.

She stood silent, listening for any hint that might
give her a clue as to who was behind this courageous rescue attempt—or who
contrived this ruse to cleverly engineer her demise.

The crush of gravel sounded as someone trudged
toward her. Whomever it was must have heard the door latch shut after she
entered.

Eugenia held her breath, afraid the sound might be
heard. She wanted her heart to stop beating, for fear that it would give her
away. She did not know who or what she would find in this great cavernous
corridor. The pathway traveled downward far beyond her line of sight.

“Eugenia?” someone beckoned from the dark.

“Who is it?” she returned with trepidation, wishing
the voice sounded more familiar. She peered below but it was impossible to see.

“Edmund.”

At his answer, she thought two things: either
Edmund was the bravest soul on earth or the biggest fool she had ever known.
His further actions did not hint as to which was correct.

He appeared before her, holding a small lantern. “We
must hurry. We have a great distance to travel and we want to be well on our
way before sunrise.”

“Why did you not—” She began then switch questions
in mid-thought. “How—”

“There is no time to explain, we must be off.” He
reached out to aid her deeper into the tunnel that led far below. Eugenia took
hold of his outstretched hand and they began their journey.

They spent hours winding through the man-made,
cavernous tunnels under Taramore. During this escape, Eugenia did not dare
voice fatigue. She would prove tireless for as long as Edmund needed her to
continue.

They traveled through passage after passage of
hewn, cold-chiseled rock, framed with old, decaying wood supports. The dank,
uncirculated air hung stale and heavy to breathe.

Then Eugenia heard the faint sound of water, not
dripping, nor flowing like that of a crisp moving stream. It was the loud roar
and crash of waves breaking against rocks. Up ahead she made out the moorings
of a makeshift dock.

The welcome scent of cool salt air wafting in from
ahead blew against their faces. The ceiling had risen to a grand height,
towering over their heads, opening out to the sea far beyond their sight.

“Let us stop here for a few minutes, shall we?”
Edmund suggested. Whether he wished to further admire the seascape, take pity
upon her, or perhaps take in her precarious condition, she did not know.

“How are you holding up?”

Eugenia could not manage words but nodded and did
her best to smile that her condition was tolerable. She huffed and puffed every
step of the way behind him, and was most grateful for the respite.

Light from the
half moon
glittered, casting silver peaks off the wave caps just outside the cave,
highlighting the undulating swells rolling toward them.

He found them a place to sit and set the lamp upon
the ground near their feet.

Eugenia stretched her ankles and wiggled her toes
inside shoes that were not meant for travel of this sort. Nor was she, truth be
told.

“What is this place?” She looked around them, still
trying to catch her breath. The lamp illuminated very little. Eugenia could not
see what lay beyond the end of the dock.

“It’s a smuggler’s cave. It hasn’t been used for a
very long time. Unless my brother has recently.” From the darkened look on his
face, he must have thought it not an unreasonable assumption.

A sharp snap pierced the air, followed by the sound
of crunching gravel. Eugenia’s sharp glance met Edmund’s, both uncertain of the
sound’s origin, both afraid of the implication that it meant an uninvited
visitor. Seconds passed, the crunching grew louder.

Eugenia reached out for Edmund’s sleeve and stood
with him as he rose to his feet.

“Well, well, look who’s returned.” Thomas’ voice
echoed lightly in the cavern. “My word, you’re the last person I’d expect to
see.” He leveled his pistol at them, stopping within firing range.

“Don’t you dare hurt Eugenia, Thomas, I’m warning
you.” Edmund made the slightest shift of his body, placing himself in front of
her.

“You’re threatening me? You’re very brave for a man
without a gun. Don’t make any hasty moves, Edmund. I wouldn’t want to shoot
anyone by accident.” He gave wild laugh.

The sound of the ocean came in with the tide,
growing louder as time went on, providing a background for the pointed remarks
the brothers threw at one another. Anger and animosity, hatred and accusations,
remarks that had been suppressed for years. All meaningless words to her but
clearly full of significance to them.

Eugenia glanced back and forth between the two. She
studied how these brothers on the exterior seemed very much alike. Thomas may
have stood a bit taller and Edmund’s jaw might have been a little wider, but
all in all remarkably alike without the benefit of being twins.

“I’m afraid I’ve only one gun. My duchess and I
have already discussed how a premature disappearance of my new wife would look
too suspicious. Besides, we already have plans for London. On the other hand,” he
shrugged, “no one will miss you, dear brother. You’re already dead.”

Eugenia glanced at Edmund, who did not show the
smallest mote of fear. How could he stand there, so calm, when she was
terrified that he would be killed? They both knew Thomas had every intention of
doing so.

Thomas waved Eugenia aside with his pistol. “Step
away from him.” He inched closer and set his lantern on a small, low
outcropping of rocks. “Go on.”

Cruel, cruel Thomas. Eugenia honestly believed at
this point he wanted to see the fear on their faces. She was too shocked to be
frightened and could not decipher her companion’s expression.

Wasn’t Edmund afraid to die?

She released her hold on him and stepped away.
Eugenia choked back a cry, wishing she could disobey Thomas’ commands but she
dared not.

“Must I remind you that it was I you have formed an
attachment to, not my brother, and it was I you’ve married? Please,” he scoffed,
“you don’t even know the first thing about him.”

But she did know him, not as Edmund but as Franz.
The entire time Edmund, as Franz, was in Brighton, Thomas never suspected his
brother was alive nor that he occupied the very same town.

Thomas gave the impression that he was a man of
standing and consequence. The only true attribute he had was the resolve to
kill to keep it all.

“How you two met is a mystery. I expect you to tell
me the tale in its entirety tonight, my dear.” Again he motioned her to step
away from Edmund.

Eugenia sniffed and muffled a sob that distracted
Thomas only momentarily. It was enough time for Edmund to kick his small
lantern into Thomas’ lamp.

At first, the mass of broken pieces flared then the
flames burned at a dim, steady glow. Eugenia screamed and ran from the flames
spreading across the dock.

The two men struggled in the dim light. Soon she
could not discern one brother from the other. The fire spread slowly down the
dock ramp toward the surging sea.

A shot rang out.

One of them staggered back. They faced each other,
motionless for a few moments before one tumbled over the edge of the dock and
fell into the water. A loud splash told the demise of a Mallick brother.

Which one? She had no idea.

Eugenia sank back into a dark corner and wanted to
cry out in fright, to scream with pure terror, but she knew the only one to
hear her would be him.

A foreboding, darkened figure approached. Eugenia
could not be certain of his identity in this obscure light. The two brothers
looked too similar and it was too dark for her to tell them apart.

She stood motionless and remained quiet. Contemplating
her movements, Eugenia would only take one slow, small step toward him, and
toward the dock’s edge, at a time.

“Come,” he said. Whoever he was.

She inched closer, wondering if this was the wrong
brother bidding her near. Should she follow and throw herself into the icy
water below?

Her heart felt as if it had stopped. A lump had
lodged itself in her throat. She could hardly swallow.

“Please, Eugenia, don’t move.” He held his arms out
to her. “You’re safe. It’s me, Edmund.”

Edmund …

If only there was some way to know for sure. The
planks creaked beneath her feet, gave slightly as she shifted her weight from
foot to foot.

She was almost too frightened to speak. “How do I
know?” she managed.

“Come closer …” The figure held his hand out to
her. “Look at me.”

Eugenia dared not and she took another step toward
the sound of the sea.

“
Warten
Sie
, Fraulein,” he whispered, then in that familiar, soft
Franz voice said, “
Darf
ich
Sie
um
diesen
Tanz
bitten?”

Eugenia’s knees weakened, almost preventing her from
rushing headlong into Edmund’s arms. She collapsed against him, tears of joy
and relief ran down her face.

Eugenia had never been happier in all her life to
see the face of her friendly Franz. He wasn’t Franz anymore but still a
familiar face of her dear, dear friend.

“It’s all right,” he whispered into her hair. He
held her close. Wrapped securely in his arms, she held on to him where she felt
safe.

With Thomas’ death, she and Edmund could safely
return to Taramore. Edmund then sent for the magistrate and subsequently Mrs.
Bennett was arrested.

Suffering from shock and complete exhaustion,
Eugenia gave a statement. Edmund tried to limit her questioning and the need
for her to testify. Being one of the victims and the sole witness, it would
seem unavoidable. They needed to remain at the estate until the authorities had
time to complete their investigation.

Edmund promised her that after this awful business
was finished, he would see Eugenia to London and to her family as soon as
possible.

It was her dearest wish and all Eugenia could ever
want.

By the end of the following week, the local
authorities had been out to Taramore to thoroughly search the passageway and
the hidden dock area that lay below. Thomas Mallick’s body had yet to be
recovered and might be another victim laid to rest in the Channel’s waters.

Eugenia was very pleased that Edmund Mallick had
been cleared of any wrongdoing and had regained his title, entails, and family
holdings. The poor man lost five years of his own life, spending them hiding
from his younger brother.

She saw very little of Edmund, spending most of the
week recuperating and resting from her ordeal. Her opinion of him did not
change. After all, was he not Franz without the accent?

Oh so agreeable and ever so much more handsome. How
could she have ever confused the two brothers? Thomas the nasty and cruel could
not be further removed from Edmund the kind and amiable.

What Eugenia had difficulty comprehending was how
Thomas could have ever misled her into believing he had formed an attachment to
her. The affection he displayed seemed so real, so utterly convincing. Even
more perplexing was how she could have cultivated any affection for him.

Eugenia could not have been more elated by her
current marital status … widow. It was unfortunate that the life of a man had
to be lost. However, she felt it could not have been a more deserved demise for
someone as despicable as Thomas.

Edmund proved to be the same kind of friend to
Eugenia as Franz had been. While he sent her ahead to London, he remained
behind to handle last-minute details with the investigation, thus sparing her
from further distress.

Instead of being delivered to her family’s
townhouse on South
Audley
Street, the driver had
orders to take Eugenia to the Rothford residence in Hanover Square.

Dawson the butler, transplanted from Taramore,
notified her of the full availability of Rothford’s accounts for her personal
use. Eugenia had no interest in shopping in London. The reason she had wanted
to come to Town was to be with her parents.

She shook off her fatigue the next day and gladly
took the new duke at his word, making significant purchases at each shop she
chanced to visit. Eugenia couldn’t help but take her anger out on his
pocketbook. On her return, she still felt at odds with the entire housing
arrangement.

The staff had orders to keep her occupied until
Edmund’s arrival. Eugenia could not, even if she wanted to, find her parents’
townhouse. To rent a hackney on her own would be out of the question, and she
could not walk there since she knew nothing of this city.

Once again she was being held prisoner against her
will. Only the keeper had changed, hopefully for the better.

Although her past with Edmund, when he was Franz,
told her he could be trusted, Eugenia could not imagine his reason for keeping
her detained.

She wrote to her parents, who must have finished
with their business in London and returned to Langford House by this time, or
perhaps they were on their way to Town at this very moment!

Eugenia directed a second letter to her Aunt Rose.
The missive addressed to Earl Coddington’s country home Brookhaven, her aunt’s
last known place of residence. Hopefully the message would be forwarded to her
relative wherever she may have gone next.

With nothing more she could do, Eugenia waited,
sitting on her thumbs.

Nearing the end of the week, a commotion drew
Eugenia
belowstairs
one evening. Roars of cheer
echoed through the house.

There she found the newly arrived duke surrounded
by his staff, all tremendously surprised to see him. They thought him dead all
those many years ago and were happy to have him returned!

After waiting at least twenty minutes, Eugenia was
finally granted an audience by His Grace.

“I must have a word with you immediately,” Edmund
said, motioning to her to gain her attention.

“I should say so.” Eugenia sighed indignantly.

“In the front parlor, if you please,” he called to
her through the staff surrounding him.

“It’s about time.” Eugenia could not help sounding
snappish, “and do not keep me waiting!” She headed directly to the parlor,
anxious to hear what he had to say.

Edmund managed to free himself from his group of
well-wishers and soon followed. He closed the doors behind him to ensure their
privacy.

“I can’t imagine why you found it necessary to
extend my discomfort. Why did you not have me delivered to my parents’ house as
I wished? I do not understand why you had me brought here! Why do you continue
to cause me distress? Do you have a good reason? Well, do you? Why don’t you
answer me?” She glared at him, waiting.

“You haven’t given me a moment of silence to speak,
my sweet.” He paused a moment. Probably to see if she could hold her tongue.

Eugenia proved to him that she could be silent, for
not another word came from her lips.

“If you will remain silent and allow me my say, I
shall explain the entire affair to your total satisfaction,” he assured her.

Edmund explained that the first order of business
was to sort through the previous duke’s papers. Among the accumulation of
documents there was a substantial stack concerning the family’s concerns. He
searched for detailed information chronicling the more deadly and private
enterprise of Thomas’ undertaking.

A list of accomplices would have proved most
helpful to the authorities in apprehending the culprits. Alas it was not to be
found.

It seemed that Donald Hamby, the Earl of Claremont,
Mr. Joseph Foster, heir presumptive to Viscount Chelmsford, Mr. Randolph
Coddington, and any of the others who happened to be involved with Thomas’
conspiracy would all escape prosecution.

Eugenia knew them to be guilty. How their actions
could go unpunished was beyond her comprehension.

Edmund continued his tale. During his perusal of
his brother’s papers he found the marriage document that united Eugenia in holy
wedlock with T. E. Mallick, Duke of Rothford. He produced the document in
question for her examination.

“This cannot possibly be legal.” The document
looked familiar. It was the very same vicar’s scrawl who had sealed her fate
with Thomas Mallick. “I never signed that. Furthermore, I never gave my consent.”

“It is not necessary. In Trevithin no one can
write. It is customary for the vicar to register the couple’s names however he
sees fit. In this case, with Thomas’ long name and title that followed, he saw
fit to use initials.”

She glanced at the document and eyed the
bridegroom’s name. “T. E. I assume stands for Thomas …”

“Edward,” he said. “However, the very same initials
could also signify Terrell Edmund.”

“And who would that be?” She felt a chill trickle
down her spine. Eugenia glanced at Edmund, who appeared positively
granite-faced.

“I was named after our father. He went by Terrell.
I have always used my middle name.”

Silence ensued again.

“What exactly are you saying?” She dared not blurt
out what insane thought had popped into her head. In the first place, it would
be impossible. Simply impossible!

“What I’m saying is I am T. E. Mallick, Duke of
Rothford.” His face did not hint of a smile.

Nor did Eugenia’s.

“You’re not insinuating that we are married?” She
nearly choked on her words. Eugenia could not have a second unwanted husband.
She could not be in the same situation again.

He remained quiet and did not reply. Edmund simply
stared at her.

“No! That cannot be.” She gasped.

“I’m afraid we are,” he said. “Man and wife. Until
death
us
do part.”

Eugenia glared at him as if he were worse than the
most detested person in the world. At that moment she almost wished he had gone
into the ocean with his brother.

Eugenia shook her head from side to side, finding
herself unable to utter another word. Unable to comprehend the full meaning of
what this meant. There was nothing left for her to say.

“I’m afraid it’s all legal. Although I’m not quite
sure how it can be.” He took the document from her trembling hand. “That is
what delayed my arrival.” Then he stood as silent as she had been these last
few minutes, in a calm that maddened her.

How on earth could he just stand there! Eugenia
could not imagine that Edmund would tolerate his happenstance marriage to her.
She was absolutely horrified!

To be married against her will was one thing, but
to be then bound to a second unwanted husband was outside of enough!

“We could have the marriage annulled.” Eugenia
wanted, no needed, to believe it would happen. She had to know all this could
be rectified, and soon.

“Are you quite sure that is what you want? I do not
wish us to act in haste.” There was an almost desperate quality to his voice
Eugenia could not understand.

“Haste?” She simmered in anger.

He stepped away from her and straightened as if he
were about to embark on a lecture or long discussion. “I thought that perhaps
if we took time to—”

“This cannot be what you want … what either of us
wants,” she interrupted. “I cannot see that I am behaving in any other way besides
a rational one.”

A wry smile graced his lips. “I don’t think you
would feel that way if you knew the entire truth,” he tossed over his shoulder.
With that, he strode out of the room.

Truth? What other truth was he speaking of now? How
many secrets could one family have?

That fortuitous afternoon, and it seemed as if it
were the first one Eugenia had experienced in a very long time, she received a
reply to her first communication to her parents. Her mother informed her that
they had only just arrived in Town.

Eugenia immediately wrote to her mother, asking
that her clever Papa should come right away, for Eugenia needed his aid to free
her from this current, horrible predicament.

She had thought Papa would have pelted over to
Hanover Square on receiving word that his dearest daughter was distraught but,
alas, it did not seem so.

It appeared these days she was finding it difficult
to trust any man. Now it seemed she was married to the brother of her late
husband, which in itself was scandalous!

What of her dreams of falling in love? It was what
she had always wished for, dreamed of. The truth happened to be that she was in
love with no one. Being a duchess did not make her circumstance any more
tolerable.

Eugenia simply could not believe, after all she had
been through these many weeks, that she was still away from her family and in
such unfortunate circumstances.

Her only wish was to go home and run to her mama’s
comforting arms. Eugenia had not always been understood but, after all, she was
flesh of her flesh, her mother would not be so heartless as to turn her away.

For the next several days, Eugenia sought the
refuge and safety of her rooms. She had not heard or seen from Edmund since the
day he told her of their unfortunate predicament.

On the third evening Dawson called her down for
supper as he had the previous two evenings of her retreat. Eugenia was far from
hungry and wanted to share Edmund’s company even less.

“His Grace wishes me to convey to Your Grace his
insistence that you join him for supper.”

Your
Grace? If
Dawson was calling Eugenia Your Grace then that meant the entire staff believed
she was now the Duchess of Rothford. It wouldn’t be long before everyone in
London would know.

“You may tell His Grace that I have no intentions
of joining him.”

“In the event Your Grace does not wish to appear,
His Grace has instructed me to inform Your Grace that His Grace will be happy
to take supper in Your Grace’s sitting room.”

“What? Here?” Eugenia was outraged at the depths
His Grace was willing to stoop. “Very well. Tell His Grace I will come down and
join him shortly.”

What else was she to do?

Eugenia began her hasty toilette. How could she be
expected to appear presentable if she did not have a lady’s maid? She, alone,
could barely manage to brush her own hair, let alone style or curl it. Her
gorgeous hair, in which she had always taken so much pride, was an asset only
if Marianne, Katrina, or a capable lady’s maid could tame the tresses. Here she
had no one. Then it came to her.

Perhaps she could simply repulse him. She hoped
that a ragged appearance would make him reconsider their current marital
status. It was certainly worth a try.

Eugenia brushed as much of the curl out of her hair
as she could manage and tied it back with a ribbon. She rummaged through her
clothespress, looking for the most dreadful frock she owned.

Drat her exquisite taste! Even her old ones were
better than she wished to be seen in. She settled for a plain, simple
jonquille
frock with no embellishments.