Page 32 of Mistress of Darkness

But as they dashed into the library, they skidded to a sudden halt. The pistols were indeed there—in Christopher’s hands.

* * *

Gwen’s kneesshook so hard that her skirts rustled. The only thing more shocking than seeing Christopher at Dredthorne was seeing Regina bound and gagged, kneeling at his feet.

“Regina,” Gwen breathed.

Thick rope bound her arms and legs, trussed up like an animal. Her auburn hair was wild and knotted, her mouth hidden by a thick gag. Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered, green eyes wide, staring at Gwen.

“Hello, brother,” Christopher said mildly. He gestured with one of the pistols to the sofa. “Do take a seat, both of you.”

Though Gwen took half a step toward Regina, Robert took her arm and firmly moved her toward the sofa.

“A wise course,” Christopher agreed, smiling pleasantly, as they sat down.

Gwen barely heard his words, not able to take her eyes off her sister. She was terribly thin and her eyes were swollen as if she’d cried for a month. Despite the guns pointed at her and Robert, a seething, blind anger began to rage inside her.

“So, brother, how do you fare?” Christopher said. “Evidently very well, considering all of the effort I’ve put into killing you. You are a remarkably hardy fellow.”

Gwen clenched her jaw and heard her teeth grind. So here was the true ghost of Dredthorne. Here was the source of all their fear and worry.

Christopher was a smaller and softer echo of his brother. Though he’d always impressed her as a handsome dandy, his brown mop of hair was tousled now, and dark stubble coated his jaw.

“Thank you, brother,” Robert replied, keeping his tone light. “You’ve played quite the game.”

Christopher tossed his head back and laughed. An image of him as that spirited young man she’d known all those years ago flashed into her mind. What had happened to him?

“Indeed,” Christopher said as his laughter trailed off. “I always was better at games, you know.” He suddenly sobered and cleared his throat. “Most games, at any rate.”

Gwen couldn’t take this idle chatter another moment. “Why do you want us to die, Christopher?” she said in a voice that shook with anger as much as fear.

Christopher snorted. “You? You’re merely a secondary casualty, Gwen,” he said flatly. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to stay, let alone fall in love with my discourteous brother. Though I must say it was rather amusing to hear you carry on about ghosts and journals and such. You have such a lively imagination.”

“Why?” was all Robert said, but the one word spoke much more. It seemed to reverberate in the air between them.

“Do try to understand, Robert,” his brother said, growing earnest for the first time. “You see, I’m in a rather large amount of debt.”

“This is for money?” Gwen demanded, her tone harsh. Robert squeezed her hand.

“No, you idiot,” Christopher spat at her. “He has to die so that I may inherit—everything.” He turned a cold and lethal look on his brother. “Robert, the serious. Robert, the responsible. Robert, the heir of the Sheraton estate.”

“You could have gone to father,” Robert told him. “He loved you. You could have come to me as well.”

Christopher laughed again, but this time Gwen heard a tinge of mania in it. “And now you’d be Robert, the charitable. Does it never end? Why must I beg for your indulgence?” He waved the pistols erratically and Gwen couldn’t help but flinch. “Because I had the great misfortune of being born the second son, that’s why.”

“Christopher,” Robert began, “you are still my brother. Whatever you need–”

Still gripping the pistol, Christopher turned the weapon to show him his hand. Gwen gasped. The smallest and ring finger were missing, down to the knuckle.

“It’s a bit late for my hand,” he declared. He looked from his brother to her and back again. “Oh, I see. You’ve never had a gambling debt.”

“Gambling?” Robert said.

“How I love my games,” Christopher said, without an ounce of mirth. “And how they love me.” For the first time, he glanced down at Regina. “I was on top of the world. I was going to give her everything.”

Regina looked at him, wide-eyed, and shook her head violently.

“Oh, shut up,” Christopher said absently. He turned his attention back to Robert. “So you see, dear brother, I shall take control of the Sheraton estate. There’ll be enough for my debts, and more besides, if I sell all of the family’s interests.” He gazed around the room. “Including this dreadful place.”

Gwen’s stomach clenched as she realized there was no reasoning with him. This was not the Christopher of their youth. This was some madman who held them at gunpoint. Robert must have realized it too.

“Let the women go,” he said calmly to his brother. “They’ve done nothing to deserve this.”

“Oh please,” Christopher sneered. “Robert, the chivalrous. Do you really think I’d trust two women not to tell a soul?” Then he grinned at his brother, his eyes shining. “But not to worry, dear brother, I shall wait until you are dead.”

“But you love Regina,” Gwen protested. “You were going to give her everything.”

Christopher shook his head, tsking. “Until she rejected me. Naturally I told my future bride everything. It would have been so much easier with her help.” He looked down at her as though he were deeply disappointed. “The poor thing was beside herself, really.”

A thought occurred to Gwen, and despite their dire circumstances, she had to know. “Regina has been here the entire time?”

“Of course,” Christopher said, matter-of-factly. “I could hardly let her run about the countryside.”

Gwen looked at Robert, his expression as grim as she felt. “The whimpering, the sobbing,” she said. “It wasn’t Miss Wilson. It was Regina that I was hearing.”

All those times she’d questioned her sanity, the strange things that the servants had heard—it had all been Christopher and her desperate sister. Though Gwen had thought the journals were helping her, they’d only fed her fears.

“And now it is time to end this,” Christopher said almost gayly. “Robert, do help Regina up.”