CHAPTER TWELVE

I make breakfast for Oliver while Theresa tends to Lady Cordelia. Oliver asks several times how his aunt is doing and if he can go see her. It’s touching to see how worried he is, but I am worried myself, and that fear dominates my thoughts.

Just yesterday, she was standing in front of her window, staring outside and muttering to herself like an insane woman. I could understand how the stress of this environment would get to her, but considering what I've learned so far, I can't believe that there's no basis to her fears. She couldn't have seen a ghost, but if she knows about what's happening here…

That thought hits me like a freight train. What if Lady Cordelia does know what’s going on? It’s tiring to be married to a lord, surely, far more tiring to be married to a murderer. Could she be aware of her husband’s habits?

I must be careful not to assume. Lord Edmund is the most likely suspect, but I don’t know that for sure. I’ve been wrong in the past when I assume the most likely candidate to be the murderer.

I must learn more. I need to understand the history of this house. Only when I am fully aware of everything that’s happened here can I form any solid conclusions.

Theresa returns downstairs just as Oliver finishes his breakfast. Oliver immediately turns to her. “Is aunt Cordelia all right? Can I go see her?”

“She’s resting right now, dear,” Theresa says. “She’s all right. She’s only had a fright. A nightmare that lingered upon waking.”

Oliver frowned. I can tell he won’t be satisfied until he can see his aunt and verify with his own two eyes that she’s alive and well.

I meet Theresa’s eyes, and her expression makes me fear that she isn’t well.

“I just…” Oliver begins. “I…”

His lips tremble. I believe he’s about to cry, but an instant later, he begins to cough. This fit is not like the others. They are loud, horrible, whooping sounds that shake the poor child’s body as though tearing him apart from the inside. I rush to his side. “Oliver? Are you all right?”

It’s truly incredible how our first instinct upon any sign of distress is to ask a question which has an obvious answer. I wonder if that question has ever been asked when it wasn’t clear that the person questioned was not all right.

He gasps, trying to catch his breath. “I’m…”

That’s all he gets out before he coughs again. The coughs are so powerful he nearly slides from his chair. I steady him and tell Theresa, “Bring some tea, please. Chamomile and peppermint.”

“Right away, Mary,” Theresa says.

The poor woman’s face is white as snow. In the span of an hour, she has seen her mistress nearly prostrate with terror and the heir to the family unable to breathe due to illness. On top of that, her master is the primary suspect in a string of disappearances. I wouldn’t blame her for fearing the end of House Blackwood is approaching rapidly.

Oliver gasps, grimaces, and this time is able to catch his breath.

But the fit has weakened him. He takes a puff from his inhaler, but that only helps a little. He trembles in my arms, and when I ask if he needs a blanket, he nods weakly.

I go to his room for a blanket, and when I return, Theresa is helping him drink tea. A touch of color returns to him when he sips, but his eyes are heavy-lidded and sit above dark circles. Theresa gives me a pleading look, and I make an executive decision.

“There will be no school today,” I tell him. “You need rest. I will find some documentaries so you’ll receive some education. Perhaps the latest nature documentary the BBC released. Do you like animals?”

Oliver nods. “There’s an ocean one I’ve wanted to watch.”

“We’ll start with that one, then.”

He gives me a weak smile. “Will you sit with me?”

“Of course I will. Finish your tea. I’m going to speak to Miss Theresa for a moment.”

He nods and lifts the cup to his lips. I take Theresa’s arm and lead her to the kitchen. When we’re alone, I ask, “How is Lady Cordelia? Really?”

She shakes her head. “She’s resting now. The poor woman wouldn’t stop insisting that she saw a ghost in her mirror. She claims she’s seen one ever since Sarah went missing. Said the cries weren’t the storm but Sarah begging for help.” She wrings her hands. “I fear for her, Mary, I do. She’s… well, she’s so delicate. Living here in this old castle with a stern old Lord and now there’s a girl missing. I’m just worried that it’s too much for her constitution to take.”

I take a moment to digest this. I am also concerned for Lady Cordelia, but I must think of Oliver first. “For today, we’ll let both of them rest. Let’s hope by tomorrow that Lady Cordelia is well enough to see Oliver, but…”

I leave the rest unsaid, but Theresa understands. She nods slowly. “Of course, Mary. I’m sure they’ll be fine. Summer’s comin’ round. Warmer days and brighter skies. It always helps.”

She doesn’t sound convinced. Quite frankly, I’m not convinced either.

***

Oliver falls asleep shortly after I set him up in bed. I leave the movie playing, partly to soothe him and partly to conceal my voice.

I call Sean, and when he answers, he says, “I’m glad you called. I was actually about to call you.”

“What have you learned?”

“Well, this maid who’s disappeared wasn’t the first woman to go missing from Blackwood Manor. I don’t suppose she’s been found?”

“No. No one’s heard from her.”

I leave out the part about the cries for help. I’m still not convinced those cries are genuine and not my imagination. If there’s somewhere in this castle where women are being kept, I still haven’t found it.

“I’m not surprised. It turns out that there’s a long-standing legend in Northumbria about Blackwood Castle.”

My eyes widen. “A legend?”

“Yes indeed. It dates back all the way to the time of the fifth Earl, Lord Thomas Blackwood. It seems Lord Thomas was urged to marry his cousin, the Lady Rowena, Countess of Lancashire. Unfortunately, the marriage wasn’t a happy one. The countess made her disdain for Lord Thomas known far and wide and was renowned for taking lovers in a bedroom in one of the castle turrets so that all could see her profaning her vows.”

“Goodness.”

“Not the word I would use. Well, Lord Thomas eventually had enough. He carried the Lady Rowena to the top of the castle and threw her from the wall.”

I gasp. “Good God.”

"Again, not the word choice I would have made. Lord Thomas was acquitted, primarily because he was a good friend of the Duke of Lancaster and officially because it was known far and wide that he was a cuckold, and in those days, it was considered just that a philandering woman should be killed for her transgressions. Not by being thrown from a battlement, but still.

“Here’s where the story becomes interesting. Lord Thomas married again after the Lady Rowena’s death. Five times, in fact.”

“And did all five of those women meet their fate at the base of the castle wall?” I ask.

“No one knows.”

A shiver runs through me. I can see what Sean is getting at. “So that is when the disappearances began.”

“Yes. All five marriages lasted less than a year. All five women disappeared and were never seen again.”

“And Lord Thomas was allowed to continue murdering?”

“That’s the next interesting part. Lord Thomas swore up and down that he had no idea what was happening to his wives. He insisted that he had nothing to do with these disappearances. In fact, he became increasingly paranoid and convinced that Lady Rowena’s spirit was taking vengeance on him for murdering her. After his last wife died, he went mad. He raved that Rowena was a vindictive spirit hellbent on tormenting him. He ran himself through with his sword, and when that didn’t kill him quickly enough, he stabbed himself in the eye with his own dagger.”

I can’t think of an epithet to match that crime. I glance at Oliver to make sure he’s still sleeping, then say, “And the disappearances? Did they continue?”

“Off and on. There are a total of nineteen others over the next four hundred years.”

“That’s more than one disappearance per earl.”

"On average, yes, but there were a few earls who never suffered a tragedy and some who suffered several. Our current lord Edmund has in fact seen three women disappear in his home. Before this maid, there was his first wife, Lady Evelyn, and before her, his sister, Lady Alivia."

“Yes, I’d heard of those.” I frowned. “I don’t believe in curses, Sean.”

“Really? That surprises me. I thought you would jump all over such a superstition.”

“When have I ever suggested that the supernatural was responsible for anything?” I scold. “No, I think we have a very human culprit. I want you to look deeper into Lord Edmund. If he’s covered up past sins, then there will be some evidence of it that can prove his guilt.”

“If he’s covered it up, then by definition, there will be no evidence.”

“No one can completely cover up such an action. Dig deep. Talk to people. Find people who have the courage to be honest.”

“I can find conspiracy theories everywhere. I can’t guarantee evidence.”

I sigh in irritation. “Find what you can, Sean.”

He returns a frustrated sigh of his own. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to just leave this alone and let the authorities handle it?”

“Did the authorities find Lady Evelyn’s murderer? Or Lady Alivia’s? Or were they both brushed under the rug because of Lord Edmund’s influence?”

As I say that, I think of Inspector Hargreaves. He clearly has no intention of brushing anything under the rug. I don’t say that to Sean, though. Best not to give him more ammunition.

He sighs again. “I’ll do what I can. Please be careful. I’m not there to save your life like I was the past two times.” He pauses, then asks, “Should I fly out to you?”

“No. The last time you did that, the killer deduced that the two of you and I were together. I would rather keep you as an ace up my sleeve in case of emergencies.”

“Very well. But be careful,” he insists. “I don’t know if Lord Edmund is behind what’s happening in that house, but whatever it is, it’s still happening. I don’t want to find out that you’re the next one missing.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Good.” He pauses for a moment. “I miss you.”

A touch of warmth cascades over the ice in my chest. “I miss you too.”

We hang up, and I take a deep breath and release it slowly. It seems this family has a history.

Now, we must determine how far the apple fell from the tree.