Haven House, page 8




Without considering, I stepped up to the window, gripping the wooden sill with nerveless fingers. “What’s going on?” I murmured.
“They want the children, miss. They also want you.” Jessie had entered the room while I’d been lost in my thoughts.
Now I whirled, facing her. “Why? Who wants us?”
She shrugged. “No one knows, or at least whatever they know, they’re keeping to themselves. The sheriff has men throughout the house should they break through the perimeter. He’s sending all the non-essential staff home.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’m to stay to assist with the children and yourself and the nanny, of course. He—the sheriff—wants me to pack some clothes, simple just in case we need to evacuate.”
“Evacuate?” I felt dull. Wooden and totally lost. Why? Why would we need to run again? We’ve already done that twice.
Something inside me exploded, and fury washed through every part of my body. I’d just found somewhere I could breathe and was trying to sort through the mess of my mind. Now that was all being jeopardised again. “I don’t even know why!” I jerked away, my body reacting to my wild confusion.
“Miss?” Jessie enquired, her face drawn, gaze keen.
Shaking my head, I fought my way back to the here and now. “Nothing, Jessie. Grab some clothes for me, then, as you’ve been instructed. We can arrange items for the children later. Meanwhile, the sheriff and I are going to have a conversation.”
I left the room, my feet tapping on the floor as I headed for the stairs, then down. I stopped only long enough to fill my lungs with oxygen before rapping on his office door.
His imperious “Come” didn’t settle me. I marched in, prepared to battle for the truth. I stopped short at the sight of Andrew, his face streaked and grey.
“An… Andrew?” I hurried forward, and he took my outstretched hands. “What’s happened?”
He shook his head and took the seat Damien steered him to. “I had to come. We lost men on the ship. I needed to come, in person, to see the damage. So I can face their families and tell them what we’ve learned.”
I gazed at him, noting the signs of strain, the white lines at his mouth and eye.
“And?” I prompted.
He shook his head. “I’m pleased you got the children when you did. Only moments later, it would have been disastrous.” He closed his eyes and swallowed in concert. “The sheriff has explained all?”
Damien shook his head. “No. We have the children upstairs, and I’ve got my staff planning now.”
I bit my lip, more than a little aware there was more to learn, but the terror that streaked through me warned me I may not like what I’d hear.
Andrew grunted. “I see. I sent a communiqué to the sheriff yesterday when I received news of the incident. He went down to the site, to see for himself what there was to find.”
I glanced Damien’s way. He shrugged, but there was a wealth of worry about the action.
“And?” Once more I prompted for information from my brother.
“It was an explosion. You could see the trajectory of the flames. It radiated from the centre, like the bloom of a flower.” He rubbed at his brow.
Damien nodded. “I’d agree. My men and I looked for survivors. We found none. What we located, though, was this.” From his pocket, he drew what appeared to be cogs, lots of small-sized discs.
“What are they?” I peered closer.
“Prong wheels used in replacement limbs. They make the musculature systems work.” He pantomimed his arm moving up and down. “They’re special cogs manufactured from copper. Each is marked with a symbol, ensuring we know they were used by which physiotraducere.”
I’d heard that word before and searched my memory. “Your mother was one, a specialist in the field, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.” The single-word answer was stark in the sudden quiet.
I bit my lip, unsure what this had to do with me, the children, or anything else. Then it occurred to me that that was my current state of affairs with everything.
Andrew grunted. “Each part used is numbered. The sheriff has his mother’s records. We were checking them and found this part was used in the replacement of a leg. By a runaway from Haven.”
Now my gut clenched. Here was a connection. “Who?”
Andrew shook his head. “I doubt you’d know him. Gerald Fansom.”
The name didn’t bring any people to mind. “No, you’re right. I don’t know the name.” I looked at Damien, who also shook his head.
A sneer broke over Andrew’s face. “I knew him slightly. He was in the outer circles of the Haven sect. An enforcer type of person. Someone you likely wouldn’t have come in contact with at Haven House. He was unclean.”
That meant he wasn’t considered worthy of a formal position within the sect. Wouldn’t be gifted with wives and a household of note, like those who were worthy did.
Andrew sighed. “I need to dig some more, and that means returning home. Leaving you here.” Disquiet coloured his features, and I understood he was concerned about me. For me.
“D—” I gulped, unwilling to share any of the personal drawing I felt to the man watching me so intently. “The sheriff and I are preparing for whatever is needed. The children will be safe here, Andrew. I promise my life on that.”
I didn’t miss the tiny flicker at my misspoken word, though he winced at the last promise I made. His mouth tightened, and I could almost swear he’d snarl if he knew about our interlude from previously. “I would rather you were home with me. But you and the children are endangered right now. We need to know more, but the sheriff will keep you safe. He knows how and where.” He bit the words out as he rose.
My gut curled, because while he was my brother, what was between Damien and myself—or may be at some unknown point in the future—was between us. Nothing to do with Andrew.
I watched Andrew pin Damien with a direct look of anger. Banked but noticeable. “Sheriff, if I may have a moment with my sister?”
Now my nerves danced and jumped faster and wilder.
Damien gave a tight nod and left the room. Andrew waited until the door closed behind him with a snap, then whirled back to face me. “What’s happening here, Ammy?”
I almost sighed. Unused as I was to my brother being involved, it felt odd to explain my actions and emotions. “Nothing that is inappropriate, Andrew.” I kept the words low and soothing, just as I’d done during my years at Haven House.
He merely quirked an eyebrow at me. “Define inappropriate.”
“Andrew, don’t ask me these questions,” I entreated while tears pricked my eyes and fear danced along nerve endings.
His face deepened to a ruddy glow, but he kept his distance. His only physical reaction was the curling of his fists, a sign I didn’t miss. “He’s made advances?”
I squeaked. “No. But if he did, and I wanted it, that would be a matter for us to decide. Between ourselves, Andrew. Did anyone ask these questions of you with Gloriana?” I bit my lip, afraid I’d pushed too far. In Haven House, that would have drawn an immediate and physical punishment.
He jerked back, as if stung. “No! No, because neither of us—” In his face, I read sorrow and the need for forgiveness.
I reached out, took his hand. “Nothing inappropriate will happen. If something we want to happen does, or if I need help, I’ll ask. But I’ve been kept in a cage for so long, I don’t know what I want, Andrew. The sheriff—” I inhaled, hoping he’d understand my plea. “Damien is making no demands on me. Please, let it be, brother.”
Anxiety bit at me, chomping deep until he gave a jerking nod of acceptance.
“Very well. For now I won’t enquire. If you need me, ask. If you can’t or don’t feel comfortable, then talk to Gloriana. She will have an understanding.”
How embarrassing! “Yes, if I need advice or assistance, I will let you know. Now, how long are you planning to stay? Should I have preparations made for dinner?”
The incredulous look he slanted at me did little to settle my fears. “No. I’m to leave immediately.”
Andrew wound his arms around me and held me tight, and tears pricked my eyelids once more. “Be safe, Ammy. Be well and happy. It’s all I ask.” His voice carried a gravelly quality, and I blinked.
“I’m doing my best, Andrew.” Whether that was enough, I couldn’t say. All I knew was I’d fight for what felt right.
On that, he left the room. I watched his retreating back, then slumped into a chair as the door closed behind him.
I felt exhausted, terrified, and more than a little furious too.
Chapter Eight
I waited until Damien had walked Andrew to the door and seen him off, using the time to calm myself for the conversation ahead.
When Damien re-entered the room, I was ready. At least I thought so, but the grimness of his visage had that bravado melting like snow in summer. “What don’t I know, Damien?”
For a moment, the shadows filling his eyes disappeared, and the lines at the sides of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “You have no idea how I feel when you use my name, Ammy.”
I probably did, if it was anything like the sensations that plagued me. Had someone filled my veins with warm, gooey chocolate? I was sure they must have, because it drugged me, left my body strangely boneless.
He reached out a hand, and I took it. He pulled me closer, so I was buried in his arms and able to inhale the manly scent of him.
When his fingers burrowed under my chin and gently, yet irrevocably, urged it up, I was ready for his kiss. It was soft, like the kiss of a butterfly’s wing. The heat and essence of him flowing over my skin was a drug I needed more of, while the pit in my centre warmed and unfurled.
The pressure of his lips on mine deepened so my mouth opened.
The tip of his tongue lapped at my lips, then slid within, and I moaned as his arms wrapped around me, hauling me closer so I could feel the hard planes of his body against mine through the layers of clothing.
My fingers inched upward, as if following some direction from my brain I knew nothing of. They coiled in the dark silky hair at the nape of his neck.
On a groan, Damien pulled away. “This is just the beginning, Ammy. One day, when you’re ready, I’ll show you more. The pleasure and the warmth of loving. I’ll prove to you that you can remain independent and yet be part of what we have between us. That’s my promise to you.”
If only I could push beyond the barriers of my fears!
I moved back, unsteady without his support, when his hands fell away. I slid down into the nearest chair.
“Later. Danger. Tell me about it,” I whispered.
“It’s deep. We’ve got the enforcer from Haven, or at least some part of his leg. We’ve got the children and a threat to you. The dirigible is destroyed and lives lost. We’ve been followed and tracked, and there are not a lot of leads at this point. I know it has to do with the sect but can’t see how the pieces fit together yet.” In his voice lay a wealth of disgust. At himself?
“You’re doing everything you can—”
“It’s not enough, Ammy. I’m missing some vital clue and don’t even know where to begin. I brought you here because Andrew was sure they’d try to reclaim you. We promised a haven to the children’s mother, and with Letitia failing, we’ve acted on that. I just don’t see where the connection is. I should be able to see it.”
I watched his face, the play of emotions. His hands moved as he made his points and tried to see what he could. “You know who their father is?”
“Francesca is the child of Letitia and Reverend Cunningham. It was a love match from all I can glean. Then when he died, she was reapportioned.” Her gut churned when Damien used the term Master and Junior had always used to describe what happened to the widows and children upon the passing of a man within the sect.
“I know about reapportionment, and I believe it’s inhuman. I saw a new wife brought in from that. She was barely seventeen with two children and expecting a third when she joined the household. Junior didn’t care and took her as a wife. He declared the children unclean and sent them away. I don’t honestly know what he did with them.” I shuddered, remembering the screams of children and mother. A hard-faced woman dragging them into a carriage and away. The girl had miscarried three days later.
I dragged my hands over her mouth at the memory.
“Ammy?”
I shook my head. How could I possibly explain the things I’d seen and heard? “I can’t. Please, Damien. Some things are too much to remember.” Hot tears dribbled down my face.
“One day, you’ll tell me, and we’ll make sure they face justice. Together.” His words fell on me like a warm balm, and I dipped my head so he wouldn’t see just how much that promise meant to me. I’d been alone so long that the words didn’t so much confuse me as weaken my resistance to him. I may have given in to touches and kisses, but more? Well, if that happened, it was a long way off.
“Ammy?” I heard the concern.
“I’m fine. But how does all this mean we may need to evacuate?” Then I decided I really should kick myself, because hadn’t they already blown up the dirigible? Maybe his home and his staff were now in danger. My head snapped up, and I narrowed my eyes. “I’ve brought the threat here, haven’t I?”
He didn’t refute my words. “They’ve been outside the gates since a couple nights ago. They’re automatons.”
I frowned. “How do you know that? What does this mean for us?”
“I recognise some of the faces. I went upstairs and scanned the perimeter with my ocular.”
I frowned. “Ocular? What’s that?”
“It’s an object for seeing into the distance. Usually used on either a dirigible or seagoing vessel, but free-standing with both legs and dual eyepieces. I had one installed some time back, but this is the first time it’s been employed in protection of the house.”
Didn’t that impress on me just what I’d brought with me? “So, you know some. You’ve garnered their background, I imagine?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had previous experience with one or two individuals lining the gates. It’s why I believe we should evacuate now. There’re at least forty people currently watching us. They’re dangerous and armed. I noted the bandoliers some are wearing.”
“So we run. Where to?”
He smiled. “Somewhere far away. I’ve already been in contact with one of my trusted allies, and we leave tonight. Under the cover of darkness.”
“But Andrew…” I gulped.
“He knows I have many connections. He trusts me to keep you safe, Ammy.”
“Running isn’t the answer, Damien.”
He shook his head. “Not normally, but until we know why, there’s no further choice. The threads of evil run deep. You’re the key, it seems, but we don’t know why. We keep you and the children safe until we can fight, Ammy.”
Guilt rode me hard as I rose. “So, we’ll take the carriage tonight.”
“No carriage. We leave on foot for the first part. Pack only what’s important and some clothing. The rest will be taken care of. I’ll come when darkness falls, Ammy. Have the children ready.”
I blinked. “Of course.” I walked to the door, but he followed and stopped me.
“This isn’t your fault.”
He could say that for eternity, but if I was the key, it was my fault. That knowledge was totally unacceptable, and I’d do everything I could to make things right once more.
Night fell, and we moved down the servants’ staircase. I carried Constance while Francesca carried Faith. Damien had dragooned Simeon into keeping track of Samson. Jessie, Frank—who would act as one of our guards—and Aloysius, the other guard, carried the rucksacks at the back of the snaking line. The house had been locked down, as it had been every night.
Damien had called the staff together as we waited. “Thank you for joining us. As you can see, we are evacuating. This should ensure your safety as much as ours. Should the house be breached, your protection is far more important than this residence. Jerome has the authority to handle things to do with the household on my behalf. He does not know where we’re going, for everyone’s safety.”
I understood why he’d said that. If someone tried to find out from the staff, they could honestly say they didn’t know where we’d be. Clearly he had a plan, though he hadn’t shared it with me at this point.
“Let me repeat, your safety above this house. There is nothing here that will lead anyone to where we’ll be sheltering, but I will be watching and aware. For now, I bid you all adieu.”
The doors to the drawing room, where he’d instructed them all to gather, were shut by Jerome, who followed us down the hall toward where I imagined the kitchens lay.
We moved down the stairs leading to the basement. The illumination of the ionic gas lanterns the adults carried was small but effective, lighting our way. At the bottom of the steps, Jerome turned right, toward the wall, and shoved at an elaborate carving, revealing a keyhole. From the pocket of his waistcoat, he produced a large, gnarly key and inserted it. The lock ground but gave, and a door swung open.
The tiny lamp in my hand illuminated the passage beyond just enough that I could make out steps and handholds. With trepidation, I stepped within, Francesca and the boys following. I waited as Damien retrieved the key from Jerome’s hand. They embraced, and a manly patting ensued as a draft invaded this dim and cavernous passage.
“Stay safe, old friend,” Jerome muttered, then stepped back. The others entered the now crowded area, and Damien turned the key before turning back to me.
“We should hurry. We’ve a long way to go before we meet our conveyance.”
I hugged Constance closer, pleased she’d snuggled down in the blanket I’d wrapped around her. Jessie, Francesca, and I had dressed the children warmly, ensuring their clothes and shoes were sensible, and I’d done the same for myself. Still, that sneaky chill burrowed into my bones, and I shivered. What we’d find, come the end of the night, I had no idea. I just hoped there was warm food and a comfortable bed waiting for me.