Beloved Monster (24 page)

“Thank you, Lucas.”

“Luke. I am no longer Ravenswood.” He dug around in the case. “Also, my father promised to see Jeffrey Twington and baby girl Fenton are looked after financially, their futures secured. See that he does.”

Patrick nodded. “I will do as you ask. No, you are not the viscount. I see that now. Leaving your past behind is a good plan. I will see your father keeps to his promises, never fear.”

Luke pulled out a ring and shook his head in disbelief at the sight of it. “My signet ring. It has the Madden crest and it says.
Propria virtute audax.”

“Daring in the cause of virtue,” Patrick translated, his voice soft.

“Yes. This ring has been passed down for generations. The heir always wore it. Obviously my father had it removed from my mangled hand before he buried me.” Luke closed his fist over it. “I will keep this close for the rest of my life. To remind me of what I was before. Maybe I can finally live up to the family’s honorable history.” Luke smiled slightly. “Brave Irish knights from another era.”

He placed the ring back in the case, pulled out another, and held it up to her. “This is my mother’s.” Clasping her hand, he slipped the ring on her finger. “My dearest love.”

Glenna gasped. It was a beautiful topaz. Far fancier than any jewelry she ever owned. “Thank you, Luke.”

“One more.” Luke dug deep into the bag. “Ah, I hoped it would he here. My grandfather’s. Here. Put it on my right hand instead of the left for obvious reasons and make our vows and our love complete.”

The ring was a thick gold band with a topaz stone to match hers. Taking his right hand as he requested, she slipped it on his finger. “The vows and love--complete,” she whispered.

Patrick patted them both on the shoulders. “Now, we must ready for your departure. I have filled out the papers….”

A fierce and sudden pounding at the door interrupted the rest of Patrick’s sentence.

Reed ran to the window and pulled back the curtain slightly to peer out. “Four men. With truncheons and other weapons.”

“Quickly, Luke. Come with me. Reed and Glenna, sit at the table.” Next to the fireplace, Patrick pushed against the molding of one of the wood panels, and it popped open.

“A priest’s hole? In a vicarage?” Luke exclaimed.

“It was used for smuggling in decades past. Hope there is enough room and breathable air. In you go.”

Glenna watched as Luke bent down and disappeared behind the panel. She struggled to hide her fear. If he was discovered… She did not even want to contemplate what could happen. Patrick hurried to the front door and opened it.

“Evenin’ Vicar. We be lookin’ for a man who ’armed a wee child today in the village.” The men pushed past him to stand in the parlor. “If he even be a man a’tall.” Glenna’s insides fluttered madly. How could they possibly get away with this?

* * * *

Damn and blast, the air smells foul in this cubbyhole,
Luke thought. He could hear the conversation clearly and wondered how Patrick would manage to talk his way out of this tight situation. The gig was parked outside along with Fury. Thinking back, Patrick did like to spin tall tales to Luke during their lessons, keeping him entertained and interested in learning.

“A little late for company, eh, Vicar?” The man continued. “Be a strange time for prayin’ and the like.”

“It is always a good time for praying. May I introduce Professor Parker and his cousin, Miss Glenna Parker? Not that it is any of your business, but I was conducting a book club meeting; then the Parkers offered to stay and assist me in cataloguing items I will be selling to a consignment shop in London. We were unaware the hour had grown late.”

“There be two wagons outside, and ’orses. All yours?” another man asked. Luke recognized the voices from the hut.

Luke held his breath, waiting for a reply. Barely thirty minutes passed since he departed the Whitestone estate and the confrontational company of his father. Surely these men did not come from there. Not enough time had passed. Hopefully, they did not recognize Fury. It was a moment of peevishness that had him take the gig and horses. They would be easily recognizable to many in the village. With any luck these buffoons would not be that observant.

“They are mine.” Luke heard Reed say, “My cousin and I drove them over as we have numerous items to sell for consignment as well. The trunk outside is full of clothes. All for a good cause and good works for the parish.”

Luke nodded.
Well done, Professor.
But then, Reed was an expert liar.

“All these fancy bits, they be Ravenswood’s?”

“They were, God rest his soul,” Patrick replied. Luke could imagine Patrick blessing himself as he spoke the words.

“Oh, aye. Only ’is soul is nay at rest. ’Tis the man we seek. Terrorizing the countryside ’e is,” another man said.

“Surely you do not believe those stories? Yes, a parishioner stopped by earlier with the tale. It is pure hysteria. I saw him laid out in his coffin. I buried the man. Said the prayers over his corpse. ‘Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery.’ Apt words, wouldn’t you say?”

“Aye, it be true of Ravenswood. I buried ’im and all,” another man spoke. “I threw the dirt in ’is grave. And I also saw ’im bold as brass standin’ by the brook. Ugly as any monster rose from the dead. No mistaking ’im.”

Damn.
Luke held his breath again.

“Who owns the black stallion?” the first man demanded.

“I bought him,” Reed answered without hesitation.

“The parishioner who stopped by? Or at least I believe he was one of my parishioners. Said his name was John Saxon. He sold the horse to the professor,” Patrick declared in a clear, steady voice. Luke exhaled his held breath and admired the way Reed and Patrick were handling this situation.

“When were this?” the second man questioned.

“Two hours ago I believe. Gave me a good price. Said he was heading north,” Reed stated.

“What did ’e look like?”

“He stood in the darkened doorway, he would not come in, and he wore a cloak with a hood, hard to make out his features. A middle-aged man I would say,” Glenna interjected. Patrick and Reed murmured acquiesce.

Ah, my love. How proud I am of you.
The parlor remained quiet for several minutes, as if the men were trying to decide whether to believe the trio or not. There remained no doubt that he and Glenna would have to leave as soon as possible.

“Well, I have news for ye, Vicar. His nibs is alive. Jamie there dug up the grave at the earl’s instruction. There be no body in the coffin. None a’tall. Nothin’ but a hand.”

Patrick laughed. “That doesn’t mean he is walking about. It is obvious he’s been dug up and sold as a cadaver for medical purposes. It’s happened before many times around here. Stop spreading such ridiculous stories.”

The men grunted, clearly not liking what Patrick said and in what tone.

“You don’t mind if we ’ave a look about?” one of them asked.

“I do mind, but if it will satisfy your curiosity, make it quick, then be on your way. I do not want anyone else disturbing me with these tall tales in the future, understand, Jimmy Reardon?” Patrick admonished. Again, Luke could imagine his friend wagging a finger in the man’s face.

Patrick’s stern set-down seemed to cow the fellow, for he murmured his agreement and stomped quickly about the small vicarage. “You tell us if you see anythin’ suspicious like, eh, Vicar?”

“Yes. Yes. Be on your way.”

At last, the men departed. Several more agonizing moments passed until Patrick let him out of the hiding place. “No time to lose. The men obviously haven’t been to your father’s, but as soon as they do, they will return here in force. You and Glenna must be long gone by then.” He handed Luke a bundle of papers. “The marriage certificate. Filled out and official. Keep it safe. And God speed you both on your new journey.”

Luke pulled Patrick into an embrace. Through the years, he’d often wished Patrick had been his father. Perhaps things would have turned out differently. “We will be in touch,” Luke whispered.

Patrick, his eyes moist, stepped back and nodded. “My son, do not look upon this as a curse. You have been given another chance at life. To live and love as you always deserved to. Embrace it. Be content and at peace at long last.”

In his previous life as Ravenswood, only Patrick seemed to understand him, knew how to talk to him and deal with his various issues. Luke clasped the vicar’s arm and squeezed it affectionately as he nodded in agreement.
Content and at peace. Yes.

They loaded the wagon with Luke’s clothes, books, and other possessions, along with Glenna’s trunk, then switched the gig horses and hooked up the wagon to them. Patrick also packed them a little food. After bundling a sleeping Noir into a basket, Glenna placed it on the floor of the wagon. After hugging Patrick, she turned to Reed. “Be well, cousin. Live your life. Be happy.”

He pulled her into a fierce embrace. “And you as well.”

As Luke untied Fury’s rope from the back of the gig, Reed grasped his sleeve and pulled him away from the others.

“You have no need to be concerned, Reed. I told you I will care for and protect Glenna. I love her with everything I am.” He held out his hand to Reed, and the man took it and shook it warmly.

“I know, Luke. What I have to say concerns you.” Reed’s voice was whispered and laced with disquiet.

“What is it?”

“I haven’t had an opportunity to complete all my tests, but there is chance, albeit a small one, that you…you…will not age. Or at least not as quickly as the rest of humankind. There is a strong possibility you could be--immortal.”

The words landed on Luke like strikes from a fist. In fact, as if Reed ripped open his chest and landed a fatal blow to his heart. No. It
cannot
be. Surely the fates would not be so cruel. Luke shook his head in sadness. “We say nothing, especially to Glenna. Not until we know more.”

“I could be mistaken,” Reed said hopefully.

Not likely. Deep in the recesses of his soul, Luke knew with a definite certainty Reed had the right of it. Immortality would be his curse. His reparation. To continue to live when everyone he cared for passed on and he would be left alone to mourn. Beyond human. A monster--beloved or not--living forever in shadow. So be it. He would not dwell on the lonely prospect now. He had a life to live with Glenna and live it he would. To the fullest.

He clasped Reed on the shoulder and nodded. With a swift motion, Luke swung his leg across the saddle and mounted Fury. He pulled up beside the wagon and reached for Glenna’s hand, then kissed it before letting go. Traveling in the dead of night was not wise, but in this case, a necessity. With a final wave, they departed.

They rode for some time, the evening air still. “Luke.”

“Yes, my love?” he whispered.

“You truly do not lament the loss of your identity or your former life. You are determined to move forward. Live life anew. You are quite the most courageous man I have ever met. Not only brave, but forgiving and compassionate. Ravenswood was none of these things. You know this. You, Luke, are the better man, and I love you all the more for it.”

The words became seared on his heart. “You brought it out of me. You gave me the courage. Your love gives me strength.” Luke rode alongside the wagon. “We have to pick up the pace, Glenna. Get as much a head start as we can.”

Glenna snapped the reins and the horses whinnied in response, entering into a fast trot. “I love you, Luke.”

“And I you. All will be well.”

He’d been given a new chance at life, and he would not waste a minute of it. Live and love. Yes, he could do that. For as long as Glenna lived. And beyond.

From the Journal of Luke Madden, Lighthouse keeper

Trevose Head Lighthouse, Cornwall

October 12, 1921

A heavy heart has prompted my entry today. I received word from Patrick’s companion, Liam Coughlin, of the sad news of Patrick’s passing. He died peacefully in his sleep at the age of seventy-nine, a few months shy of his eightieth birthday. Patrick will not be forgotten. He was a teacher of my youth, a friend who steadfastly accepted me for who I am as I accepted Patrick for who he was. He will be missed by all who knew and loved him.

I find of late that I reminiscence often of times past, and how all our lives have changed since we parted that night long ago. After Glenna and I escaped, Patrick stayed on in Charlwood as vicar for seven more years. In that time, he and Reed became close friends, and Patrick even introduced Reed to the woman he would eventually marry, a young widow from Horley. Perhaps seeing us all happy and settled prompted Patrick to write to the man he’d known and loved in his youth. He and Liam struck up a correspondence. The unrequited love between them sparked anew. After one last visit to us, he returned to Ireland to find his own happy ending. Torn between his forbidden love for a man and his calling in the church, I am gratified his final years were blissful ones. Everyone deserved to be loved.
Everyone.

And speaking of blissful years, Noir spent nineteen of them with us often curled on the sunny side of the light tower and away from the cool, bracing sea breeze. Indeed, his remains rest there to this day--his favorite spot.

As for Reed, he and Clara had a son, Frederick Lucas Parker, now thirteen years of age. They all have visited us often through the years. No more scientific experiments, Reed and I both decided not to continue with any further tests. I knew all I wished to. At sixty-seven, Reed revels in domestic life, and though he is vital and strong, I know he will not live forever.

Nor will my darling Glenna. Time has caused her honey-brown hair to have many threads of gray and a few wrinkles have appeared on her face, but to me she is as beautiful as ever and will remain so until the end. At fifty-four, she is breathtaking, my constant companion and friend. My ardent lover. We did not have children, but it hasn’t lessened our happiness. We found such elsewhere and in other things both simple and grand.

Reed and Patrick kept me up to date on my family’s doings through the years. I do not think of them often, but when I do, it is with a certain wistfulness that things were not different between us all. I do not regret walking away from my life as Viscount Ravenswood. Not for a minute. I wear the Madden family ring around my neck to remind me of who I was and what I did, and to make sure I never become that man again.