Lacybourne Manor

Chapter Thirty-One Safe

“What is that smell?” Rick asked, sniffing the air with a comical expression of distaste on his face.

In his line of work, he’d seen a lot of crazy things. This, of course, took the cake. He’d never seen anything quite like this. However, he long since learned not to ask questions. He would tuck this experience safely away and never think of it again. It was just another day at the office to him.

“Where’d she go?” Robert Fitzwilliam asked, staring at the place Mrs. Manning had been.

“She’s been dispatched, nearly five hundred years ago,” Marian explained to Robert even though he thought her words didn’t explain anything at all and then she turned to Rick. “And that smell is one of my personal concoctions. It made the spectres, when they were in this house, incarnate, so they could be fought, so they would be vulnerable.”

Sibyl was listening to all this and staring at the wall where Mrs. Manning had disappeared and as she did so she felt the anger drain out of her. She felt like she’d just finished a marathon. She felt like laughing and crying and screaming, all at the same time. She wondered what it all meant. She wondered about Royce and Beatrice and what it meant for them.

Then she remembered Mallory and her eyes flew to Colin.

But he was already striding with purpose to the door.

She ran after him and skidded to a halt outside in the hall, her heart tearing apart at what she saw.

“Mallory,” she whispered, tears clogging her throat.

Colin was already in a crouch by Mallory’s head. Mrs. Griffith was on her knees behind the prone body of the dog and Mallory was lying in a pool of his own blood. The older woman was stroking the animal like he was still alive and whispering soothing words to him. Bran was curled up in the area between Mallory’s still belly and motionless hind legs.

When Colin reached out to touch the dog, the cat agilely gained his feet and hissed. Colin’s hand froze then changed directions and without fear of the hissing cat, he stroked its head. At his touch, the cat stopped hissing and then rubbed its body lovingly against Mallory’s belly.

Sibyl felt the tears drop from her eyes and slide down her face as she stood frozen, watching as Colin felt the dog’s chest then he turned and looked up at Sibyl.

At the queer expression on his face and the muscle leaping in his jaw, all her hope died.

She dropped to her knees beside her fiancé and burst into uncontrollable tears.

She vaguely realised that people were coming from the bedroom and others were coming down the hall. Sibyl put her shaking hands out and gently rested one on her dog’s still-warm flank, the other on his ribcage where his big doggie heart was no longer beating.

She bent her head and whispered to the floor, “He died trying to save us.”

She barely finished the last word when she found herself moving toward Colin as he pulled her into his arms and surged to his feet. He brought her up with him and tucked her close to his warm body. She buried her face in his chest, wrapped her arms around him and gave in completely to the anguish ripping agonisingly through her heart.

There was movement and muttering around her and she lifted her head and saw Colin’s throat working spasmodically. She couldn’t bear the sight of him trying to control his emotion because she was in no state to soothe him. She turned her head and pressed her cheek against Colin’s chest as she watched and listened. She did everything but look at the body of her dog. She couldn’t see Mallory like that again. From now on… she swallowed against the pain the thought caused… she had to remember him as he used to be, goofy, sweet, loyal and loving.

Colin stroked her hair with one hand and held her firmly against him with his other arm.

“Let’s get you up Mrs. Griffith,” Kyle said softly, his voice kind.

“I’m not leaving him,” Mrs. Griffith returned fiercely.

“I’ve got him.” Rick was walking toward the scene, carrying a sheet from some bed. Gently, more gently than Sibyl would have imagined he was capable, he crouched and carefully tucked the sheet around the dog. He then, still utilising the utmost care, lifted the dead, awkward weight of the enormous dog and settled Mallory in his arms.

“Where are you taking him?” Sibyl asked as she tried to break free from Colin but both his arms tightened around her.

“Don’t worry.” Rick smiled at his charge for the first time of their acquaintance. It was not a happy smile, it was a sad, trust me smile. “I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

At his smile, Sibyl let her weight sag against Colin and he took it on without sound or movement. Then she nodded at her bodyguard.

Rick walked down the hall, carrying his burden.

New tears sprang to Sibyl’s eyes and clogged her throat.

“Colin, get her to the library. Get her a relaxing drink, you both could use one.” Phoebe was next to her son, her thoughtful eyes on Sibyl.

Colin did as his mother told him, pausing only to scoop up the cat which he handed to Sibyl and she tucked the feline protectively in her arms. For the first time, Bran seemed quite contented to be where he was.

Colin guided her down to the library and Sibyl heard behind her…

“I’ll get this cleaned up.” That was Mags.

“I’ll help.” That was Jemma.

“No, my dear, you get the kids home. We’ll take care of this.” That was Phoebe.

She stopped listening when Colin turned her toward the stairs and they went to the library. All the while, Sibyl realised absently, unable to process it completely, that she was very lucky to have such wonderful people in her life.

Colin took her to the couch and pushed her gently into it. She didn’t resist. She’d started her journey on this couch, it seemed fitting to sit there now. The minute she sat, Bran settled in a curl on her lap.

She heard noises coming from other areas the house. Their friends and family were all trying to be quiet but their tasks of tidying up and leaving and cleaning a pool of dog blood would not allow them to shield their noise from Colin and Sibyl.

Listening to the noise, Sibyl’s face was frozen in a constant wince.

Colin took one look at her and walked to the door to close it but the unknown man filled its frame.

“The police are here,” he told Colin, glanced at Sibyl, tried (and failed) to smile at her reassuringly and then looked back at Colin.

“I pressed the panic button,” Colin told him then sighed. “Can you deal with them?” His hand went to his hair and he pulled his fingers through it in a frustrated gesture.

“Of course,” the man assured then left and Colin closed the door behind him.

“Who is that man?” Sibyl asked as Colin walked to the drinks cabinet.

“A security specialist and an investigator, he and his team have been watching over you for weeks. They’ve also been trying to discover who was behind all this.”

Sibyl nodded, allowing the pleasant thought that Colin had hired a team to protect her to penetrate the numbness that had enveloped her.

He poured two drinks and brought them both to the couch. He handed her one and she automatically took it. He settled down beside her, stretching his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles and wrapping his arm around her shoulder before he pulled her into him and she rested her head in the curve of his neck.

“What’s this?” she asked, lifting the tumbler filled with a fluid that matched his eyes.

“Whisky. Drink it,” he ordered.

She sighed. “You are so bossy,” she told him, her voice weary but filled with affection.

As an answer, his hand went to her hair and lifted its heavy weight.

She sipped her drink and felt the pleasant warmth slide down her throat and into her belly.

“Are we safe now?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he answered so definitively she believed him and she finally felt the tenseness flow from her body. “Until you get us into another disaster by taking Parliament to task for their defence spending and becoming public enemy number one,” he noted in a mock-beleaguered tone.

Despite all that had happened, she felt a giggle rise up her throat and let it loose as she looked up at his handsome face.

“I love you,” she told him, her voice strong with emotion, tears coming back to her eyes.

He looked down on her and his face shifted and she would understand that shift when he vowed in a low, even, fierce tone, “After tonight, I swear to God, you’re never going to have a reason to cry or be frightened again.”

“I’ll take it from that comment that you love me back.” She grinned shakily at him.

He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.

Then he said softly against her mouth, “Yes, darling, I love you back.”

This feeling shined in his eyes and he looked at her as if she was the sun and the moon, as if the world revolved around her, as if she was his entire universe.

She settled against him again, far more contentedly, and they sat there for some time before she whispered so quietly, her words barely made a noise, “Mallory was a good dog.”

“Mallory was a walking, barking calamity,” Colin returned but the fondness in his tone caused Sibyl no distress. “There will never be another Mallory,” he finished gently.

She nodded her head against his shoulder in agreement and infinite sadness.

There came a soft knock on the door and Colin called his permission for entry.

Mags, Marian and Phoebe walked in, their faces carrying identical expressions of concern.

Marian was also carrying a book.

“It’s all sorted, darling,” Phoebe murmured, her eyes avoiding Sibyl’s and looking directly at Colin.

She felt rather than saw him lift his chin to acknowledge his mother’s words.

“Everyone’s away. They all say their good-byes and they’ll talk to you later, Sibyl,” Marian informed her.

Sibyl smiled weakly at her friend.

Mags came to her daughter and sat heavily down beside her, making both Colin and Sibyl’s bodies lift momentarily.

“What a night,” she noted in an understatement and then her body slid sideways, leaning against Sibyl with her head on Sibyl’s shoulder.

“You okay Mom?” Sibyl asked, handing her glass with a grateful look to Phoebe as she put her arm around Mags just as Colin had his arm around her.

“If you’re okay, I’m okay,” Mags replied then went on. “I don’t think I’m going to tell Bertie about this though. He’ll have a coronary.”

“Good idea,” Phoebe agreed. “I’m not telling Mike either or Claire and Tony for that matter. Tony wouldn’t begin to believe me but Claire will be furious she missed it.” She walked to the drinks cabinet, asking for the other women’s orders.

They all settled into chairs, Mags coming upright as Phoebe gave her a drink. Colin handed Sibyl his and ordered her to finish it. Not having enough strength to defy him, she did as she was told.

Sibyl sat with her family and friend, stroked her cat and sipped her whisky. They all seemed content to be together but alone with their thoughts.

After awhile, Colin broke the silence and called, “Marian.”

The older woman started. “Yes, Colin, dear?”

Sibyl peered up at his gorgeous face, wondering at his thoughts and saw his jaw clench and that familiar muscle dance there.

Then he enquired, “What happened tonight?”

Sibyl wanted to smile but she bit it back. He didn’t want to ask, he didn’t want to know. But he clearly couldn’t stop himself.

Marian watched them both carefully and then took a sip from her gin. Finally, she spoke.

“I don’t exactly know.” She put her drink down on a table beside her and opened the book, sifting through the pages. “I think…” she started to say and then stopped, finding her place. She scanned, her eyes racing left to right then back again, over and over. Finally, a smile tugged at her lips. “It appears that the legend has changed somewhat.”

“How’s that?” Mags asked, her body coming to attention.

Sibyl lifted her head and stared.

“Well…” Marian continued to read while she spoke. “Apparently, there was a vicious plot to kill the mighty warrior, Royce Morgan and his new bride Beatrice on their wedding night. A plot conceived by a trusted member of the household. This, Royce foiled because, well… he was a mighty warrior.” Her eyes lifted and she looked at Colin then back down to her book.

Sibyl gasped before she asked, “They didn’t die?”

Marian shook her head.

At the news, a burst of energy flowed throw Sibyl, she surged off the couch and Bran flew off her lap with an angry mew. Sibyl, unable to contain her delight, did a happy jig and sang, “Hallelujah!”

Everyone, including Colin, watched her with a grin on their face.

Sibyl stopped just as abruptly and turned back to Marian. “What happened?”

Marian looked down at the book. “Let me see. Well, this writer is far more into history, the facts, as it were. It says Royce foiled the plot as he was a seasoned warrior and could easily fend off his five attackers. The author does hint that there was a great deal of talk that lasted through the centuries about magic and…” she narrowed her eyes on some words, “it says here, some old woman from the village, a friend of both the Morgans and Godwins, was riding home from their wedding feast, came upon the struggle and dashed in, dispatching one of the villains with her cane.”

A burst of laughter erupted from Sibyl before she cried with glee, “What?”

“That’s what it says here,” Marian tapped the book, her lips forming a smile.

“How delightful,” Phoebe murmured.

“Well, I’ll be,” Mags muttered.

Colin leaned forward apparently not ready to have Sibyl out of touching distance for more than a few moments. He pulled her down to the couch and settled her into his side again.

“I wonder if Japan has fallen into the sea,” Sibyl whispered under her breath.

Marian shook her head. “I don’t think so.” And then she smiled and stared intently at Sibyl. “The book says more, my dear.”

“What does it say?” Mags leaned forward eagerly.

Marian closed the book and continued to watch Sibyl. “There is more to this new legend. Apparently, a witch from another time watched over the doomed pair, coming to Royce before the terrible event happened, informing him of the plot and helping him to thwart the evil plan.”

Colin’s body stiffened and Sibyl immediately thought, uh oh.

“What?” Colin uttered that one word in a low and even voice.

“I think, and I’ll have to check the Book of Shadows because I’m sure Esmeralda will tell me more, but I think that Sibyl was destined to save Royce and Beatrice and this is why history has shifted without calamity for what was actually meant to be has now happened. They simply had to wait for her to be born so she could go back to Royce and warn him. Then they could live their lives together. Which, by the way, they both lived to be a ripe old age and Royce sired four children by his Beatrice.”

Colin, clearly not listening to these additional words, patiently repeated himself, “What?”

Sibyl felt the stirring of unease.

Marian turned her eyes to Colin. “What I mean to say is, they weren’t actually supposed to die but they had to wait for Sibyl to be born, for you two to meet and your love to bloom, so she could save them. I don’t think Japan has fallen into the ocean because that was not the way it was supposed to be, this is!” she finished triumphantly.

Colin was not getting the answers he desired. “I understand that but what I’d like to know, Marian, is more about the part where Sibyl goes to Royce to warn him. When did that happen?”

Sibyl tensed and Colin’s arm around her tightened significantly, pinning her in place by his side.

“The book doesn’t spend much time on specifics of the legend, just facts as they were known. The Book of Shadows will tell me more but the legend does say, rather romantically, the witch from another time came to Royce, inhabiting Beatrice’s body directly after Beatrice and Royce consummated their marriage.”

Colin’s arm became a steel band.

“Oh my,” Mags uttered, her voice filled with humour.

Sibyl shot off the couch and whirled and looked down at Colin. The muscle in his jaw was back to jumping spasmodically.

“Colin,” she said soothingly.

He slowly rose.

“Did you go back to him?” he growled.

She took a step back.

Colin took a step forward.

Then she admitted, “Kind of.”

He took another step forward.

She took another step back.

“Exactly what do you mean by ‘kind of’?” His voice was more than a little peeved.

She tried to smile at him.

He ignored her smile and took another step forward.

“When did this happen? Did it happen tonight? Did it happen after we’d –?”

She took another step back.

“Um… kind of.” She drew out the words as long as she could.

His eyes flashed.

He took another step forward.

She turned and ran from the room, thinking this was her best course of action.

Colin strode quickly from the room, following Sibyl and muttering distractedly to the assemblage, “If you’ll excuse us.”

“Not at all,” Phoebe told the space where his tall departing frame was only moments before.

The three women who were left in the room looked at each other and then they burst out laughing.

Then Colin came back into the room and their laughter died.

He strode to Marian’s chair and looked down at her.

She looked up.

Then, quietly he told her, “You should know, that thing had its blade at her throat, it glanced off, didn’t even come near it.”

Marian’s mouth parted in surprise. Even she didn’t know she was that good.

“Thank you,” Colin went on softly, his eyes on the woman warm and shining with gratitude.

Then without another word, he strode back out of the room.

“You’re welcome,” Marian whispered to the space where his body was only moments before.

Royce Morgan descended the stairs in the dead of night, leaving Beatrice exhausted and sleeping peacefully in their bed.

As he moved down the steps, he saw Esmeralda Crane stood in one of the semi-circular windows, staring thoughtfully out into the night.

Instead of her making the trip back to her cottage in the dark after the events of that eve, Beatrice had insisted the witch stay at Lacybourne with them. Also at Beatrice’s stubborn demand, Old Lady Griffin was there, Royce heard her loud snores as he walked by her chamber moments before.

He quietly strode across the Great Hall and stopped to stand beside the witch, looking out into the dark night and joining her for a moment in her silent reverie.

After some time, he spoke.

“Is she safe?” he asked softly, his deep voice rumbling low.

Esmeralda knew exactly to whom he was referring. “Yes, I believe she is.”

She was watching him and she could swear to the goddess that she could actually see the tension leave his powerful frame.

“And her betrothed?” he enquired.

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

Royce Morgan nodded.

Then he turned and walked back across the room with wide, ground-eating strides and ascended the stairs, two at a time, to rejoin his bride.

It was then Esmeralda Crane turned back to regard the night and when she did she allowed herself to smile.