Page 146

“You are right! I have not lost Elizabeth! Nor shall I ever let her go! I struggle against thoughts that I have lost my mother and father and I shall lose Elizabeth, too, but I shall conquer these demons. You have my word.”

For a brief second, Richard gauged William’s determination. “Very well, we shall put it behind us. Just remember, I have not lost a battle yet, and I do not intend to start now. What say you to staying at that boarding house you always frequent when you go to Ireland? I stayed there once, and they have clean beds and good food. We can rest a bit and make our plans.”

Villa Tuscany

On the trip to the villa, Elizabeth had ignored the endless chatter between her companions. Instead, she feigned interest in the view of the countryside from the window. Now, several minutes after the carriage had turned from the main road onto the drive to the villa, her fears began to subside, and she wondered if she had over-reacted.

The prospect was certainly beautiful, and it was a relief to see that the only people in sight were an older man tending the shrubbery and a white-haired footman headed in their direction down the front steps of the white-washed villa. They certainly looked harmless enough, and the entire scene appeared pleasant and inviting, not at all foreboding as she had feared. She was most impressed with the house, which reminded her of the drawing of an Italian manor she had once seen in a book. Her thoughts must have been easy to read, as the gentleman passenger broke through her reverie with a comment.

“Now, this is not so bad, is it? I hope you will enjoy your stay at my humble home, Miss Elizabeth.”

While he was speaking, the coach came to a complete stop, and the footman opened the door. Wickham exited first, turning back to help her out next. Elizabeth had no time to reply to his welcome, as Cecile exited the carriage right behind her, still talking constantly—a sign that she was nervous.

“Come, Elizabeth! Let us get settled in quickly, so we can rest before we dine.”

In just a few short steps, they were inside the terra cotta coloured foyer furnished with marble floors and brightly coloured rugs and draperies unlike anything Elizabeth had seen before. While she was admiring the interior decorations, turning in an entire circle, a maid silently appeared before her and curtsied, then motioned for her and Cecile to follow. From the way she conducted herself, Elizabeth realised that the young girl probably did not speak English. She glanced at Cecile, who only shrugged and waved Elizabeth ahead of her. As they made their way up the curved stairs, Elizabeth happened to glance down and see her host following her actions with a strange look on his face. Wickham had just turned to go in another direction when, unexpectedly, she remembered where she had seen him. Her heart almost stopped.

She halted, causing Cecile to run into her. Swirling around, she ran past Cecile, back down the stairs towards the entrance. She had almost gained the foyer and the still open front door when Wickham stepped out to grab her around the waist.

Elizabeth began fighting and kicking with all her strength, but it only seemed to amuse him. He laughed, clasping her even tighter. In their struggles, he used his arms and hands to touch her in intimate places, and when he finally had Elizabeth immovable in his grip, one hand was across her breasts.

He could not resist and taunted her, whispering suggestively so no one else could hear, “What a beautiful body you have, Miss Elizabeth! Too bad I did not have time to take you the night I found you at the inn with Darcy!”

Thoroughly repulsed, Elizabeth renewed her efforts to twist from his grasp and was almost successful when a shot rang out. Wickham fell to the floor, letting her go and causing her to reel from being set free so abruptly. Shocked to see the one who had held her only moments ago lying on the floor, blood pouring from his temple, Elizabeth’s eyes sought Cecile and found she was equally stunned. Suddenly, Mrs. Preston’s screams pierced the air and were just the stimulus needed to remind Elizabeth of her mission. She twirled around, intent on escaping the manor, only to find two large men now standing in the doorway, blocking her way. A wicked laugh filled the house and her breath hitched.

Stefano!

Horrified— her eyes darted in every direction, but she could not locate him. Just when she had determined she must be mad, he stepped out of a shadowy doorway between her and the staircase, pistol in hand and his eyes glowing exactly as they had when Addie had died—like those of a demon.

“I told that fool that no one—NO ONE—touches my wife and lives!”

~~~*~~~

Chapter 37

Villa Tuscany

A bedroom that evening

Elizabeth sat in the large overstuffed chair in front of the hearth. With her head leaned back against the soft cushion, she closed her eyes in concentration. Only her bound hands and feet indicated her new status—she was a prisoner again. After making Stefano furious with her threats, he had decided to bind her as a sign that he was in complete charge and she was entirely at his mercy. She could do nothing he did not allow—except defy him. Just before quitting the room, he had stopped abruptly at the door to declare that they would leave at daybreak. She had not cowered at his decree as he expected, instead she lifted her chin, her dark eyes blazing in defiance. Her courage seemed to make him even angrier, though he continued out the door, slamming it in response and bolting it from the other side.

Now that the day was over, she relived the events in her mind, clearly proud of how she had responded. Today’s horror had been ghastly, but the man who was killed was not a dear friend—only someone who meant to do her harm. Moreover, she was not despondent, though the manner of his death had evoked memories of that bleak segment in her life—a period that Fitzwilliam had helped her to confront and conquer. As she opened her eyes at last to fix on the embers of a dying fire, she considered how the man at the centre of her serenity had brought her though this utter chaos.

For just a moment, after Stefano’s laugh, she had found herself paralysed—reduced to the frightened young woman who had watched Addie die. And though somewhere in all of this madness Cecile was screaming frantically, Elizabeth could not speak a word. Moreover, just at the moment when she feared she might faint, Stefano bounded up the stairs and grabbed Cecile roughly, causing her to shriek even louder. He slapped the hysterical widow then, but only his threats quieted her cries.

“One more sound out of you and you shall join your friend.” Cecile immediately hushed, though she continued to whimper. “My sources say that you are Cecile Preston, the widow who has been helping Wickham steal jewels.”

Cecile nodded, shaking so violently that it was obvious even from the foyer where Elizabeth stood, that the woman was frightened out of her wits.

“Now, Mrs. Preston, you may choose. Do you wish to die as Mr. Wickham did, or do you wish to sail to Spain with Elizabeth in the morning as her personal maid? I am sure she will appreciate having another woman along on such a long voyage.”

Elizabeth looked at Stefano as though he were mad, but his gaze was fixed on Mrs. Preston.

Cecile’s eyes flicked between Elizabeth and the count before replying in barely a whisper, “I shall be glad to accompany her.”

“Excellent!” he crowed, smiling widely. “Most of my servants do not speak English, and I am sure my wife will enjoy having someone to converse with besides me.” His air was very buoyant, and neither woman could fathom such joviality from a man who had just brutally killed the man who lay only a few feet away.”

Noticing that Cecile’s eyes kept returning to Wickham’s body, the count declared to one of the huge men in the doorway, “Portalo via fuori da qui! Gettatelo in mare!”(Get him out of here! Dump him in the sea!)