To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1) (15 page)

“
Veronica,” his own anguished voice cried
and he rushed to the bottom of the stairs and into the hall where
she lay. Her blood streamed into the glass, flowers and water
spilled on the floor. The leg of the delicate table protruded
through her chest. Vincent knelt next to his wife and lifted her
into his arms. Blood trickled from her lips and her pain filled
eyes looked up into his.

“
I am sorry. I did not know.”

“
Hush, love.” He placed his lips to her
forehead. It was already cold.

“
I missed you.” A tear leaked out the
corner of her eye.

“
All I ever thought about was you. I love
you, Veronica.”

She tried to lift her hand, but it fell limp
to her side.

“
I love you. Please, forgive me.”

He graced her with a smile, though he didn’t
know where he had summoned it from. “There is nothing to forgive.
You have always been my love and always will be.”

She coughed, more blood seeped out. He had
seen similar wounds on the battlefield and knew there was nothing
he could do.

“
I am cold,” her voice whispered.

“
I will warm you.” He pulled her closer,
willing her heart to beat in tempo with his.

She sighed and went limp. Vincent looked
down. Her blue, lifeless eyes stared up at him.

Vincent threw his head back and roared,
“No!”

By the time Vincent was pulled away from his
wife’s broken body, Percer was long gone and he had not seen him
since.

“So, my dear,” Vincent concluded, looking at
his wife’s grave. “His accomplice has come to do what he could not.
I will now have my revenge and can leave you in peace.”

He touched his fingers to his lips then
placed them on her headstone. “Sleep well, my love.”

* * *

Tess could not think. She was too tired to
concentrate on teaching the girls anything. She leaned against the
desk and took in their expectant faces. Perhaps she should have
them teach
her
something. She glanced at the books on the
shelves. There were so many to choose from and not one subject had
been left unnoticed. A thought came to mind as she focused back on
the girls.

“I would like each of you to write a
paper.”

Their groans were in unison.

“First, you will pick one country. Then, you
will find one of the books on the shelf –
not fiction --
and
write a paper on their origins, beliefs, pasts. Tell me something
about these people that make them who they are.”

“Their myths?” Rosemary asked.

“Possible.”

“Their history,” Sophia suggested.

“Yes, but it needs to be something in their
history that could define them, or perhaps defined them at one
time.”

“Their superstitions.” Eliza grinned.

Tess rolled her eyes. Leave it to Eliza to
find and target a spooky topic.

“If that can be used to define who they once
were or are.”

She gave the girls permission to peruse the
books and settled into the chair behind

Atwood’s desk. The papers should keep them
occupied for at least a week. Hopefully by then she would be able
to finally sleep and no longer let Atwood disturb her.

“Miss Crawford, I would like to see what I
can learn of Ireland.”

Tess glanced up to find Eliza holding the
book. “I am sure you will find several topics upon which you can
write your paper.”

One by one the girls brought books to her
which she either approved or sent them back for another choice. She
hoped Atwood did not mind the books missing from his library, but
he had given permission.

A knock on the door interrupted her
discussion with Sophia on Greece. She looked up and called for them
to enter.

Wesley opened the door and stopped at the
entrance. “Excuse me, Miss Crawford, but Sir William Fairview is
here.”

“Papa?” Rosemary cried with excitement. She
turned anxiously to Tess.

“You may go see your father.” She smiled at
the girl.

Sophia and Eliza shared a worried look.

“What is it, girls?” Tess asked them.

“Rosemary will soon go home,” Sophia
pouted.

“Oh, I doubt her father will remove her from
school,” Tess tried to reassure them. “It isn’t as if we haven’t
continued on, even if it isn’t in the same building.”

“That is not what she means, Miss Crawford,”
Eliza responded. “Once he hears what Lord Atwood is, he will pack
up his daughter and take her far away.”

Tess closed her eyes and took and took a deep
breath before she spoke. “Girls, you must cease letting your
imaginations get the best of you.
Wake Not the Dead
is a
fictional
novel. Vampires do not exist. Do you understand
me?”

The girls shared a doubtful look, but nodded
in agreement. With their heads hung, they wandered to the window to
look out on the vast lawn. Tess followed behind. She could see
Rosemary talking to her father, who sat and smiled up at her. He
was much calmer than his daughter, who stood, twirled and talked to
him with expressive arms and body language. The man had been
laughing until his daughter turned serious. Though Tess could not
hear what was said, but she could guess. Rosemary pointed to her
teeth and pointed to the house.

Sir Fairview followed her line of vision. All
humor left his expression and his face turned pale and stern.

Oh dear
. It appeared Sir Fairview was
not at all pleased with idea of his daughter staying in the house
of a vampire. Hopefully the man could be made to see reason or all
of the girls would beg their parents to take them from here. If
that turned out to be the case, there was no point in rebuilding
the school.

"Thou too art doomed to perdition"; so that
the aspect of death

seemed more full of dread to him than aught
beside,

and this unconquerable terror compelled him
to abandon

the battle-field. At length, after many a
weary

and fruitless wandering, he returned to his
castle.

Wake Not the Dead

Johann Ludwig Tieck

Chapter 13

“What?” Vincent shouted as he sat up in bed.
“Quit that incessant knocking and get in here.”

The door opened and Wesley stepped
inside.

“Is it too much to ask for undisturbed
sleep?”

“I thought I would alert you to a guest and
thought perhaps you would like to join him and the teachers for
tea.” Wesley turned, walked to the wardrobe and removed a jacket
and pants.

Vincent fell back on the bed and pulled the
blanket over his head. “I don’t care who is here. I only want to
sleep. The
females
can entertain him over tea and if he is
still here at dinner, I’ll offer a cigar and brandy afterward.”

The covers were ripped from his face and he
glared up at Wesley.

“This is a guest you will want to see
now
.” Wesley held up a shirt and waited.

Vincent got out of bed and allowed his valet
to help him dress. “Who is this exalted person? The king?”

Wesley snorted but did not answer him.

Once his cravat was neat enough to please
Wesley, Vincent stepped back and narrowed his eyes on the servant.
“Who is here and why is he so important that I must greet him
now?”

“A father of one of the students,” Wesley
sniffed.

Vincent could not believe he had been
awakened for this. “Why can’t Mrs Wiggons or one of the teachers
deal with him? I have nothing to do with the school or the
students. I am simply providing a temporary roof over their
heads.”

“The father is most insistent on speaking
with you, sir.”

Vincent strode for the door. “Very well.”

He grumbled all the way down the hall, down
the steps and had formed the perfect set down for making demands in
his
house when he stepped into the parlor. The words died on
his lips and a grin spread across his face. “Lieutenant Colonial
Fairview,” Vincent greeted and stepped forward with his right hand
extended.

“Atwood,” the man returned. “Call me
Fairview. I’ve retired and my rank is too much of a mouthful.”

“Very well,” Vincent chuckled. “I did not
realize one of the students was your daughter.” Perhaps if he had
bothered to remember any of their names he may have, but Vincent
tried to know as little about them as possible.

“Would you care for tea, Lord Atwood?”

He turned to find Miss Crawford holding a cup
and looking at him. Her pleasant smile did not reach her wide eyes.
He wondered if she planned to poison him. He shook the thought from
his mind. She had the run of his house. She did not need him
unconscious to search. “Yes, please.”

“Sugar, milk?”

“Neither,” he grunted and turned his
attention back to Fairview. He did not want his focus to be on Miss
Crawford or he would forget his purpose. No, her purpose. He could
also strangle Wesley for helping to replace her wardrobe. She
looked utterly delicious in the dark blue dress. Usually he did not
like women to wear dark, somber colors, but the blue brought out
the silver in her eyes and contrasted with her pale, milky skin. It
made a man wonder if all of her skin would be as pure, sweet and
soft as her face.

“I hope you find your daughter well and not
too disturbed by the events of these last few days.” This visit did
make him wonder why only one parent had bothered to check on their
child and found he held more respect for Fairview to show he at
least cared. On the other hand, the tempest hadn’t been that long
ago. Should he expect more parents to show up on his doorstep?

The man chuckled. “I am sure she will settle
in eventually.”

“They all will, I am sure,” Mrs. Wiggons
assured him.

Vincent really did not want to exchange
pleasantries with the women. However, he did want to visit with his
former commander so he sat in the only empty seat available. Too
bad it was directly across from Miss Crawford. “Have you been by to
see the school, Fairview?”

“Yes, before I came here. Though it is hard
to tell what damage the tempest caused and what destruction the
workers are responsible for.”

“I don’t understand,” Miss Morris
interjected.

“Well, the south side of the house is
completely gone,” Fairview noted and looked to Atwood for
guidance.

“The house had been shaken from its
foundation. Though repairs could have been made, the man in charge
feared it would not be stable,” Atwood explained.

“You need to rebuild the entire school?” Miss
Crawford asked, her eyes wide with concern.

Vincent wouldn’t have thought the idea of
being in his house longer than a few weeks would be disconcerting
to her. The rebuilding gave her ample time to explore and search.
Unless, she hoped to be able to leave her position as soon as the
piece of the map was found to rejoin her lover.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered and hoped
the smile on his face was one of sympathy instead of contempt.

“I am truly sorry, Lord Atwood,” Mrs. Wiggons
offered. “I know you probably wished we would be gone in short
order but it appears we could be here for months.”

“Months?” Miss Crawford squeaked out.

Vincent turned to look at her and smiled
warmly. “Why yes. Are there concerns you have not mentioned, Miss
Crawford?”

She sat her teacup on the table and folded
her hands. A small worry line appeared between her eyes and she bit
the corner of her bottom lip. He waited for her to explain. What
lie would she tell him now?

“It is just the girls. They are not all
comfortable being here.” Her eyes shot to Sir Fairview, as if she
wished to convey some type of message.

“So I gathered from my daughter,” Fairview
laughed.

“They are still getting settled in. We should
not worry,” Mrs. Wiggons insisted.

“It is not so much the household.” Fairview
grinned at Vincent. “What they fear is what lives in this
household.”

“Oh, dear.” Miss Crawford straightened her
spine and a lovely, light shade of rose colored her cheeks. “You
should not listen to the rumors. I will talk to the girls
again.”

Fairview chuckled. “I am sure you have
assured them enough and anyone without an active imagination would
be comforted. Unfortunately, for my daughter and her friends, it is
a more difficult task.”

Miss Crawford glanced at Vincent for but a
moment, but her cheeks darkened further, and she focused back on
Fairview. “Sir, perhaps we can discuss this in private and
determine a way to convince your daughter that all will be
well.”

Vincent couldn’t believe it. Miss Crawford
was trying to keep him from the rumors or perhaps she thought he
would be disturbed that the discussion she carried on with Fairview
involved him.

“No need to hide from the truth, Miss
Crawford.” Vincent crossed his legs and took a sip of tea. “We all
know the girls fear I am a vampire and are scared of what will
become of them living in this house.”

“Yes, my daughter told me everything. I do
believe she about had an apoplexy when I informed her that it was I
who retrieved you from the dead.”

Miss Crawford choked on her tea; the others
looked at him with stunned silence and Vincent roared back with
laughter.

He turned toward the ladies. “I am sure you
have heard the rumors that I was left among the dead on the
battlefield and lay there for two days. My commanding officer,” he
gestured to Fairview, “is the one who discovered I was still part
of this world and carried me back to the surgeon.”

Their faces held a combination of intrigue,
horror and disgust.

It was not well-done of him to mention the
ugliness of battle in front of such delicate creatures. Though, he
doubted Miss Crawford was included in the group. She was betrothed
to Percer after all. If the engagement were normal, she would be in
London, planning her wedding. Not teaching at a girls’ school and
snooping around his house.