The Two Lords of Wealdhant Manor by Katherine Marlowe

Author:Katherine Marlowe [Marlowe, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Honeywine Publishing
Published: 2015-12-08T23:00:00+00:00

Algernon

“Where are ye, ye disobedient slattern?”

Algernon startled awake from a dream, sitting bolt upright and looking about himself in panic.

He felt pursued, weighty with terror that his pursuer was just behind him, a tall, hulking shape that carried a whip.

The room was quiet and dark, fire burning low, and shivered at the cold of the room and the cold sweat that drenched his shirt.

Jasper was gone. After Mr. Cullen had thrown him out, he’d stayed away that night, and one of the staff had claimed to have seen Jasper headed off Cairkby way before dawn the next morning. No one had any sense of where he’d gone and when he’d be back.

Algernon didn’t care.

Shivering, he got out of bed and hauled off the dampened shirt, fetching a fresh one from the wardrobe which felt just as icy, though dry. Ringing for a servant by the newly-repaired bell, he went to the low fire in order to warm himself.

The house was dead quiet, without a whisper of life other than the soft crackle of the fire. Everything in London was always noisy with people—drunks in the street, servants below-stairs, neighbours heard through thin walls. The past two nights he’d woken to Jasper beside him in bed: warm, solid and safe.

“Quickly, quickly, this way!”

Whirling about, Algernon stared at the young woman by the door, wearing a white cap to cover her hair. When she realised that he saw her, she beckoned urgently. He didn’t recognise her, but she seemed so desperate and panicked in her urgency that Algernon went to her at once.

“This way,” she repeated, seizing upon his wrist with an icy little hand and pulling him down the hallway.

He went with her, heart quickening with urgency and fear.

“Where are you? I’ll find you!”

The voice seemed to bellow from everywhere and nowhere, deep and masculine, and the girl gave a breathy little shriek.

“This way,” she whispered, “this way. He’ll catch us!”

They turned down a corridor, and then another. Algernon had no idea where they were, and the abyssal darkness of the hallway didn’t help. His guide knew her way even in the dark, and the brightness of her white cap was Algernon’s only beacon.

“Ye cur, ye whore!” the voice howled. It felt closer, and Algernon scrambled after the girl down a set of narrow back stairs and into a short hall.

She rattled at a set of doors, finding them locked, and gave a little sob of terror.

“Ye’ll regret what you’ve done, I swear ye shall. I’ll whip ye within an inch of your life.”

This time, Algernon was certain the voice came from the direction of the stairs they had just descended. He stared in that direction, frozen in terror.

“Mr. Clarke? Mr. Clarke!”

Blinking in confusion, Algernon stared at the familiar, motherly face of his housekeeper, Mrs. Underwood, and the bright candle in her hand.

“Mr. Clarke,” she said, gentle and concerned. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I,” Algernon said, whipping back to stare at the stairwell. It was as dark as the void, untempered by the light of Mrs.

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