Extended Epilogue
Chapter 1
3 Weeks Later
Chester Cathedral served as the venue for the marriage of the infamous Duke of Windermere to Miss Ester Fairchild, heir to Lord Percival Fairchild of Kendrick Priory. It was majestic, towering over them as they stood before the bishop. Sunlight streamed through elaborate stained glass to cascade across them like heavenly radiance. Ester could hardly keep the bishop’s words in her mind and give the correct responses…
For her gaze was irresistibly drawn to Julian, resplendent in a rich dark blue that suited him far better than his customary black. His hair, glossy and tied at the nape of his neck, gave him the air of an erotic, princely figure from a distant land. Between them lay a veil. A thin gauze to prevent the groom from setting eyes on his wife until the fateful moment she was pronounced to be so. Dress and veil together were a wall between them that Ester wished torn down. Ripped away. She would have willingly cast aside all trappings of decorum and stood naked before Julian, were it not for the guests surrounding them.
The moment of conclusion came after an interminable ceremony. Ester wanted it to last forever so that she could savor each moment, impress it on her memory. But she also wanted it over with. Done. She wanted to be married. Wanted to be alone with her beloved husband. To be touched by him, taken by him. The bishop intoned the final words and pronounced them man and wife.
Julian lifted the delicate veil and kissed his bride.
Ester was transported. She felt his fingers on her cheeks, lifted herself on tiptoes. She remembered their first kiss. Remembered all the kisses. Amid fear and confusion. Amid curses and darkness. Now they stood in the light. They walked down the aisle towards the cathedral’s arched entrance, bells ringing and rose petals being thrown by the congregation. Percival Fairchild had lived long enough to give his daughter away, beaming proudly as he walked her to her husband to be.
But as they left and boarded the waiting carriage, Ester could think only of Julian. Of her husband. The carriage was open and she remembered to hurl her bouquet over her shoulder as the driver shook his reins and started the horses into motion. Looking back she saw the flowers fall into the hands of her sister, attended by her handsome, dark Welshman.
Ester fell back into Julian’s arms as the city of Chester rolled by them. The carriage wheels rattled over cobbled streets with their Tudor buildings of black timber and white walls. Beyond the city, lying alongside the River Dee and close to the Welsh border was the estate of Kendrick Priory but that was not where they were headed. Julian had rented a cottage for the summer, south of the city, amid the sleepy Cheshire countryside. It was to be a hideaway for the newly married couple before they traveled to Windermere and Julian’s ancestral seat.
Julian’s arms went tightly around her, holding her close as though experiencing the sensation for the very first time. He pressed his face against her hair and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes, feeling a thrill at being so savored by him. So desired. She wanted the driver to go faster, wanted the distance to melt away to nothing and for their destination to be before them at that very moment.
***
Cheshire
The bedroom door closed with a crash. Ester spun in the middle of the room to face her husband. Sunlight spilled through the window which looked out on a lawn and a rambling garden of wild color. Ester was radiant in white, a dress that seemed to be too fragile to be worn. It clung to her figure, revealing and yet hiding at the same time. She was smiling and blushing, the flush in her cheeks a testament to the racy thoughts going through her mind. Those same thoughts also occurred to Julian. In fact, he could think of little else.
“Will you require some assistance in removing your dress?” Julian asked.
Ester shook her head wordlessly.
“I asked Molly to give the seamstress very specific instructions,” she giggled.
Reaching to her side, she unfastened a panel of fabric that had looked to be a seamless part of the dress. Then, she deftly undid a row of buttons that ran from her hip to her arm. She did the same on the other side, pulling her arms from the dress and holding it in place over her bosom.
Julian had already seen that her arms and shoulders were bare. His ardor increased at the thought that she wore no undergarments. Finally, Ester let the bodice fall. Her round, pert breasts were revealed, then her stomach, before, with a wriggle of her hips, she let the dress fall into a heap at her feet.
Julian opened his mouth to speak, but found no words to say.
He took in the sight of his beautiful wife. They had defied custom by delaying their wedding celebration until the day after the ceremony. Their guests would gather at Kendrick and only then would Ester and Julian appear. This day was theirs alone. Julian let his coat fall to the floor, undid his cravat, and tossed it aside. Ester moved towards him gracefully, staying his hands as she reached for the laces of his shirt. She undid them slowly, knowing that the sight and proximity of her naked body would be driving him to distraction. Julian stood with hands by his sides, waiting to be released.
The shirt was lifted over his head and tossed aside. Ester slowly undid the fastening of his breeches, reached in, and then around to Julian’s hips, pushing the garment down along with his undergarments. The tightness of his breeches required her to kneel to pull them over his thighs and to the floor.
Now, Julian stood before her in every sense of the word. She looked at him and then up to his face, reaching out as she did. Julian shuddered, whispered her name at the touch of her hand. Then moaned aloud as he felt his lips upon him. It only took a moment before his desire overcame him. Stooping, he picked Ester up under her arms, caught her beneath her buttocks as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Then, he carried her to the large bed in the center of the room.
***
A bee buzzed lazily in amongst the prolific flowers. Julian reclined on a chair before a table at the edge of the lawn. A tall willow cast shade across the table without obstructing the view of the garden and fields beyond. A ridge of hills in the distance ended in a ragged edge with a castle on top, Beeston, Julian thought. It looked antique and picturesque.
Ester sat atop his lap. Both were barefoot and, though none but they knew it, naked under their outer clothes. Julian wore a shirt and breeches, Ester, a simple dress of white linen. As husband and wife, they had exhausted each other’s bodies and now savored the feel of warm sun and cool breeze on their skin. Julian reached across her waist and his fingers found Ester’s. She smiled.
“It is still a novelty… holding your naked hand. I hope it always will be,” she whispered.
Julian smiled affectionately. “It will not. It will become mundane, but I look forward to that day. I could never hope to dream of the day when a touch would be mundane for me. And it shall only ever be yours, and that will be enough to satiate me for the next fifty lifetimes.”
There came a knock at the front door of their little cottage. It was clearly audible from their position around the back of the house. There were no servants in the property, and Julian was disinclined to give up Ester’s presence.
“Ignore them,” he whispered.
Ester gave him a tolerant look, then raised her voice. “We are in the garden. Follow the path around the house,” she called out.
Julian groaned and righted himself where he had been slumped lazily in his chair. Ester smiled and took the seat opposite his.
“We cannot live as savages. Nor as farm folk, much as we would like to be back in Penmon. You are a Duke,” she chided gently.
“Duty above all,” Julian replied in a flat, measured voice, before his gaze landed on the figure coming around the corner—and instantly, he shot to his feet. “What in the devil’s name are you doing here?”
In a moment, he stood between the Viscount Kingsley and Ester. In another moment, he was halfway to the other man, face set and hands clenched into fists. There was no conscious thought of revenge but only that this man had been paid well to remove himself from their lives. That he had returned spoke volumes about his intentions.
“Julian, wait!” Ester called out.
Julian hesitated for a heartbeat, and in that fragile moment, he saw Kingsley for the first time. Truly saw him. Kingsley’s clothes were fraying and patched, bearing the signs of hard-wear. His face was haggard with dark circles around his eyes and his hair had been raked with fingers, barely tamed. This was not a sneering villain intent on further blackmail. Not a greedy man seeking to further enhance his wealth. This was a desperate man, who had lost all.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he mumbled to Ester. “I am not going to intrude for long. There will be no need to remove me. I will go of my own volition. If you intend to beat me… well, I deserve no less for what I have done.”
“If it is forgiveness you seek, you would sooner find three holes in your chest,” Julian spat, his veins aflame with disdain at the man’s self-pitying, as if he were worthy of anything more.
“I know. And I do not want it. I do not deserve it. But I do wish to make amends. Or to go some way to making amends.”
Julian scoffed. Ester stood beside him, took his arm, and squeezed it.
“You did me a grievous injury, sir. One that almost took me to my death. How can one make amends for such a thing?”
Kingsley hung his head and Julian thought that he had never seen the other man so humble and contrite. What was his motive here?
“How did you find us?” Julian demanded.
“Luck? I have been living in Chester in a small garret room outside the city walls. I heard of the wedding of the Duke of Windermere. It is common knowledge that you took this house. I wanted to take the opportunity to speak with you.”
“Well? Quick, and out with it then, you wretched knave,” Julian snapped.
“I… I wanted to tell you that Harper has been apprehended. He escaped Anglesey, swimming the Menai Straits. He made his way to Chester where I received my first piece of good fortune for a long, long time. He happened into a tavern which I had taken to… frequenting. I knew him at once. The rogue who had been recommended to me for a manservant but who inveigled his way into my confidence and manipulated me. It was he who suggested the blackmail in order to generate funds. It was he who introduced me to the proprietors of certain gaming hells in the east end of London. Presided over my increasing indebtedness. When I saw him so reduced, I knew my opportunity had come. For some kind of redemption. He resides now at the city jail and I believe the magistrate has already received word from Wales of his status as a wanted man. I knew nothing of his further crimes after I left him. I believe he will hang.”
Ester exchanged looks with Julian who begrudgingly nodded.
“He must have had the devil’s own luck to swim those treacherous waters. He would have had the blood of many on his hands before his plans were complete. He is a dangerous man.”
“He denied his culpability. Tried to claim that it was the cursed Duke who was responsible for the death which he was accused of. But I gather that he is a poisoner. I realized that he must be trying to convince you of the curse by poisoning those whom you come into contact with.”
“Very astute. That was indeed his plan,” Ester said.
Kingsley nodded. “For myself, I must also face my fate. I am in debt and penniless. I wanted to tell you of Harper’s arrest, and now I go to that same jail, to confess to being a debtor and guilty of assault against a gentlewoman. I will plead guilty and take the punishment that comes.”
“They will transport you, in all likelihood,” Julian said.
“That will not be too bad,” Kingsley replied, “to spend the rest of my life building a new society in a far-off land. To have some meaning to my existence. Yes, I shall pray for that. Goodbye, Your Graces. I offer my apologies, my felicitations, but do not wish forgiveness.”
He turned to depart, but Ester stepped forward.
“You may not wish for it, but you may have it. Though I can’t say I will ever forget, I do forgive you.”
Tears glistened in Kingsley’s eyes as he nodded silently.
“The best you can hope for from me is the sparing of your life. Go in peace; there is no more vengefulness toward you here,” Julian muttered.
And with that, Kingsley was gone.
Ester buried her face in her hands, weeping. Julian held her close, and the sun shone on them both. He felt as though a long, dark chapter of his life was finally drawing to a close.
The next promised to be brighter.
Chapter 2
1 year later
Windermere Castle
“Dear Lord. What a dark and dreary place. Are you sure we should not simply raze it to the ground? I feel nothing for it,” Julian remarked with a grimace.
They stood in the great hall of Windermere Castle. It was a frozen moment in time. A goblet lay on its side beside a dark stain that had once been wine. A large mahogany table dominated the room with a throne-like chair at its head. A stone fireplace surrounded by leering gargoyles stood to one side. Rows of tall, curtained windows to the other. Ester strode to the nearest. It was stiff with dust and brittle to the touch. As she tugged at it, the curtain broke free of its rings and fell to the floor with a soft thump. Dust rose in choking clouds but sunlight also flooded in.
“See? There is nowhere so dark that light cannot be shed on it,” Ester smiled.
Julian strode to the next curtain and ripped it down, then the next. Turning, he looked again at the hall in which his father had breathed his last. Dust swirled but bars of sunlight turned the stone from black to gray. Daylight did indeed change the character of the room. Or at least its outward appearance.
“I have never been inside such a grand place,” Rhys Morgan said, entering the room with Helen by his side.
“It is quite fantastic,” Helen enthused.
“I’ve seen the castle at Beaumaris and even been to the mainland and seen Caernarfon. But this place is…is…” Rhys floundered for the appropriate adjective.
“Brooding. Silent. Burdened by memory,” Julian muttered, “I hate it.”
“It is your birthright,” Ester added, “as Kendrick is mine.”
“Kendrick is a place I can be comfortable. Though it is my wife who is its mistress,” Julian replied, righting the goblet and running a finger along the thick dust on the tabletop.
“A building is nothing more than bricks and mortar. I have had about enough of superstition and mystery!” Ester chided gently. “This place can be as happy and light as it is made to be. In fact, I intend to see that happen.”
“Then it seems you have your work cut out for you, Ester,” Helen murmured, “I think I would rather be helping with the lambing in the middle of a snowstorm.”
Ester smiled indulgently at the idea of Helen helping her husband in a freezing barn, as he in turn helped a new life into the world. Helen had taken to the life of a Welsh farmer as though born to it. Gwyn Morgan had bequeathed land and a house to the newlyweds and one day, Rhys would inherit all of the Morgan landholdings. Just as she had inherited Kendrick from her father upon his death a year before. That still brought a tinge of sadness to her. Ever attentive and perceptive of her emotions, Julian saw it and looked around with renewed enthusiasm.
“You might have a point, Ester. Perhaps we could breathe life into this place yet.”
“You could have it blessed by a priest,” Rhys suggested.
Julian walked around the room, examining it critically. “Then there is the matter of the black library. The dark heart of this house,” he muttered.
“Throw the whole bloody lot on a bonfire,” Rhys offered with typical impulsiveness. Helen slapped his chest.
“That is barbarous. One does not burn books,” she chided.
Rhys shrugged. “Never had much time for them. The local priest beat literacy into me, but I was always happiest in the fields and the woods than in the schoolroom. Alright then, give them to someone who likes cursed books. A librarian, and have done with it.”
Julian narrowed his eyes for a moment.
“You might have something there, Rhys. The kernel of an idea.”
He led them out of the room and along passages dark and dank. The house felt like a medieval dungeon with windows often boarded over or with curtains pinned to the wood panel walls. Sitting rooms were shrouded in dust. A pianoforte stood in one corner of a drawing room, its sheet music still open from the last person to play it.
Finally, they reached tall, black doors set into a stone arch. Julian flung the doors wide. Within was row upon row of shelves, stuffed full of books, manuscripts, and scrolls. The walls were daubed with esoteric symbols and words in strange languages.
“Bloody hell,” Rhys whispered.
Julian turned a circle in the middle of the room. This was the heart of darkness. The place that his father had rarely stirred from. The place that exerted such a hold over the old man that his children and wife had been neglected. Ignored… Killed. It festered in the middle of the old building, exerting its malign influence.
“My life was cursed by ignorance. My father’s ignorance. I allowed it to be shrouded in darkness, and this is where the darkness came from. I used to think that this represented knowledge. But Rhys, you have the right of it. The knowledge we need is not in these dusty pages, promising power in exchange for your life and your soul. It’s out there in the daylight with people you love. It is bringing life into the world. This place should be made to serve that. I won’t give my father’s ghost the satisfaction of destroying it, of letting him haunt me anymore. I’m going to turn it all over to a man of learning. A man who never believed in the curse. As my brother never did. I couldn’t believe him because of the hold this place had over me.”
“You’re talking of Doctor Hakesmere, the man who took you in when your father rejected you?” Ester asked.
Julian nodded. “Let him study this and show it for what it is. Nonsense and superstition. Evidence of how far mankind has come since the dark ages.”
The idea was taking root. Let the enigmas and ghosts be burned away by the light of reason. Let the shadows evaporate under the daylight of the nineteenth century. Let the old days be left to memory, unable to touch the present any longer.
“Come on, Blod,” Rhys said, putting his arm about Helen’s shoulders. I need to get some fresh air. No offense, Jule. I’ll be glad to see some green again is all.”
Julian grinned. “As will I.”
He put out his hand and Ester took it, raising his to her lips and kissing it. Julian smiled in defiance of the curse. In defiance of his father’s baleful memory. In defiance of the dark.
Together, they all walked out of the black library into the sunlight of a new morning.