in the drawing room, he was announced.
My aunt had just gone out to call on a friend—a fact Fernando must have known. As he entered the room, I sprang to my feet, dropping the embroidery I had been holding.
'Good morning, Miss Cartwright,' Fernando said, with a significant glance. 'I have come for the music I left with you, since Lady Russell informs me you are no longer to study the harp. Her ladyship is not here? What a pity. I had hoped to give her my compliments. But then ... Ah, I believe the book is there, among those others on the table...'
'Certainly,' I said foolishly. 'Yes...' And then, as the butler went out, closing the door behind him, I exclaimed, 'You should not have come! My aunt—'
'What is wrong with coming for my music?'
Fernando rushed toward me; I moved aside, avoiding his outstretched arms. He let them fall to his side and stood regarding me sorrowfully.
'Faithless, like all the rest?' he asked quietly.
'Not faithless! No, but...'
'You love him, this dark lord? This man of blood?'
'What? Man of—what are you saying?'
'You are betrothed to him?'
'Yes ... no ... I don't know what I am,' I said pathetically, dropping into a chair and pressing my hands to my head.
'Then you know less than the entire city. It is spoken of everywhere, your engagement.' Fernando sat down opposite me and watched me. 'If I could give you up, Lucy, I could not give you up to him. Do you know what he is?'
'What do you mean?'
'His father had three wives. How did they die?'
I stared, speechless. Fernando leaned forward, holding my eyes with his.
'There is a curse on their house,' he said, in a hissing whisper. 'On the house and on the line. It is not only the wind that cries across those dreary moorlands! For ten generations'—he paused for effect—'for ten generations, no bride of that accursed line has survived the birth of the heir!'
'Oh, come,' I said coldly. 'Now that is really—Where did you hear this nonsense?'
'They are arrogant men,' Fernando went on, as if he had not heard. 'Arrogant and cruel. Treachery has been their key to fortune. The first Baron betrayed his sworn liege lord to win land and title. Even in those bloody days they were known for their cruelty to the miserable serfs who served them. And the women...'
'Even if this were true,' I said, 'it would have nothing to do with Edward—with the present Baron. He is a kind, sensitive—'
'You have not heard of his escapades in his youth? Of the village girls, the missing children...'
I started to my feet.
'You go too far!'
With one bound Fernando reached my side. His face close to mine, he hissed at me.
'The first Baron Clare swore a pact with the devil! A pact sealed in blood, repeated by each baron as he comes of age! And the price is—the life of his bride! Ask if you doubt me! Ask anyone—ask your aunt!—about the curse of the Clares! Do you think I will see you sacrificed?' He caught me in his arms. 'Tomorrow night, Lucy, I will come. You must steal out of the house and meet me; at midnight I will be here, in the street, with a carriage. I will wait for you.'
I shook my head, trying feebly to escape, but his clasp tightened.
'I will do anything to prevent this marriage,' he muttered. 'Anything! If you don't come, Lucy, I will be here all the same; you will find me on the doorstep when you come out next day. Perhaps the sight of me dead will prevent what I, living, could not accomplish.'
I started to cry out. He covered my lips, not with his hand, but with his mouth.
When he left I had not said Yes—but I had not said No, either. I was still sitting in the parlor with my neglected embroidery on my lap when my aunt returned. She stood before the fire warming her back and regarding me steadily.
'I understand that young what's-his-name—the music fellow—was here.'
'He came for his music,' I said listlessly.
'Indeed? Well, that is the end of him. Clare comes for dinner today. You had best go up and tidy yourself. And put
My aunt had just gone out to call on a friend—a fact Fernando must have known. As he entered the room, I sprang to my feet, dropping the embroidery I had been holding.
'Good morning, Miss Cartwright,' Fernando said, with a significant glance. 'I have come for the music I left with you, since Lady Russell informs me you are no longer to study the harp. Her ladyship is not here? What a pity. I had hoped to give her my compliments. But then ... Ah, I believe the book is there, among those others on the table...'
'Certainly,' I said foolishly. 'Yes...' And then, as the butler went out, closing the door behind him, I exclaimed, 'You should not have come! My aunt—'
'What is wrong with coming for my music?'
Fernando rushed toward me; I moved aside, avoiding his outstretched arms. He let them fall to his side and stood regarding me sorrowfully.
'Faithless, like all the rest?' he asked quietly.
'Not faithless! No, but...'
'You love him, this dark lord? This man of blood?'
'What? Man of—what are you saying?'
'You are betrothed to him?'
'Yes ... no ... I don't know what I am,' I said pathetically, dropping into a chair and pressing my hands to my head.
'Then you know less than the entire city. It is spoken of everywhere, your engagement.' Fernando sat down opposite me and watched me. 'If I could give you up, Lucy, I could not give you up to him. Do you know what he is?'
'What do you mean?'
'His father had three wives. How did they die?'
I stared, speechless. Fernando leaned forward, holding my eyes with his.
'There is a curse on their house,' he said, in a hissing whisper. 'On the house and on the line. It is not only the wind that cries across those dreary moorlands! For ten generations'—he paused for effect—'for ten generations, no bride of that accursed line has survived the birth of the heir!'
'Oh, come,' I said coldly. 'Now that is really—Where did you hear this nonsense?'
'They are arrogant men,' Fernando went on, as if he had not heard. 'Arrogant and cruel. Treachery has been their key to fortune. The first Baron betrayed his sworn liege lord to win land and title. Even in those bloody days they were known for their cruelty to the miserable serfs who served them. And the women...'
'Even if this were true,' I said, 'it would have nothing to do with Edward—with the present Baron. He is a kind, sensitive—'
'You have not heard of his escapades in his youth? Of the village girls, the missing children...'
I started to my feet.
'You go too far!'
With one bound Fernando reached my side. His face close to mine, he hissed at me.
'The first Baron Clare swore a pact with the devil! A pact sealed in blood, repeated by each baron as he comes of age! And the price is—the life of his bride! Ask if you doubt me! Ask anyone—ask your aunt!—about the curse of the Clares! Do you think I will see you sacrificed?' He caught me in his arms. 'Tomorrow night, Lucy, I will come. You must steal out of the house and meet me; at midnight I will be here, in the street, with a carriage. I will wait for you.'
I shook my head, trying feebly to escape, but his clasp tightened.
'I will do anything to prevent this marriage,' he muttered. 'Anything! If you don't come, Lucy, I will be here all the same; you will find me on the doorstep when you come out next day. Perhaps the sight of me dead will prevent what I, living, could not accomplish.'
I started to cry out. He covered my lips, not with his hand, but with his mouth.
When he left I had not said Yes—but I had not said No, either. I was still sitting in the parlor with my neglected embroidery on my lap when my aunt returned. She stood before the fire warming her back and regarding me steadily.
'I understand that young what's-his-name—the music fellow—was here.'
'He came for his music,' I said listlessly.
'Indeed? Well, that is the end of him. Clare comes for dinner today. You had best go up and tidy yourself. And put
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