Fairest of Them All (Marriage by Fairytale Book 4) Read online

  Every time she’d come through here, she’d think of him. It was hard not to go up there now. She wanted to be with him one more time before she left, but it was best that she didn’t. She’d almost lost her resolve that morning. It’d been on the tip of her tongue to call out to him that she would stay in this townhouse. There was no saying how long it’d be before she could be with him again. But she couldn’t risk it. Not when she had her unborn child and Tabitha to think about.

  Releasing her breath, she went to the stairs that led to the lower level of the townhouse. To her surprise, the butler was there to open the front door for her.

  She paused when she reached the threshold. Evander was confined to the attic. That left Tabitha alone for company, except for one person. The only friend she had in this place was the butler.

  She turned to face the butler. “I know this isn’t something usually done, but would you mind making sure Lady Tabitha has everything she needs while I’m gone?”

  “I’ll do that, Your Grace.”

  She sensed he wanted to ask why she was leaving, but he didn’t say anything. She bit her lower lip. Besides Evander and Tabitha, she trusted him. And since he was a servant, he probably noticed things that happened around the townhouse better than Tabitha did.

  “If you happen to notice anything unusual,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “you must let His Grace know right away.”

  “Your Grace?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

  “I can’t explain. It’s just important you let His Grace know as soon as possible.”

  Despite the fact that he looked bewildered, he nodded. “I’ll do as you wish.”

  Feeling a little better to have someone diligent to watch for any clues that Evander’s mother might be hiding somewhere in the townhouse, she thanked him and went to the carriage.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Evander sat in the attic. The dinner on his desk had gone untouched for five hours. He hadn’t bothered returning it at the bottom of the attic stairs. He just let it sit on the desk. He couldn’t eat. Not when so much hinged on what happened next.

  He didn’t bother lighting the candle. He didn’t have to. There was enough moonlight coming in through the small window for him to see the room. He had thought about talking to Tabitha earlier that day, but he couldn’t burden her with everything Viola had told him. It was hard enough for him to digest the possibility she might be right.

  But Viola could be wrong. He hoped she was wrong. Even though he hated losing touch with the present because the ghost only wanted to relive old memories, he didn’t want to think his mother was capable of the terrible things Viola had accused her of. He’d rather believe in the curse. He’d rather hide his face for the rest of his life in a dark room.

  He released a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept much the night before, and he’d been awake all day. And there was a very real possibility he’d stay up all night without a single thing happening.

  When he lowered his hands, he searched the attic for any signs of an apparition. But now that he thought about it, the thing mostly appeared to him after he fell asleep. His gaze settled on the closed attic door. Whenever he was awake, it would come in through the door. That was odd, wasn’t it? Weren’t ghosts supposed to be able to travel through doors and walls?

  He’d never asked the ghost about it. He hadn’t even thought about it. He’d been too caught up in grief and despair to care.

  But he cared now. And he was beginning to ask questions he’d never considered before. The ghost would always bring a candle. Would a ghost need such a thing? Weren’t they supposed to be able to see into the darkness? Ghosts, after all, were supposed to be born of a dark world. They came from the grave.

  He rubbed his eyes again. He didn’t know what to think. All day long, he’d gone through every reason why Viola might be right and why she might be wrong. He was beginning to get a headache.

  A sound of footsteps came from the stairs leading up to the attic.

  Evander bolted up in his chair. His eyes focused on the closed door. Was this it? Was he about to find out if the ghost was real or not?

  On impulse, he stood up and tiptoed to the door. He pressed his back up against the wall. He was going to touch it before it noticed him. The element of surprise would prevent the ghost from getting away before he could verify if it was solid or not.

  His gaze went to the floor directly in front of the door. The ghost never knocked. It just opened the door. The only reason he knew it to be the ghost was by the candlelight filtering in through the crack under the door. He watched for it, but he didn’t see a trace of light. Was it possible the ghost knew the room wasn’t completely dark?

  A series of knocks came at the door.

  Evander jumped. It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t the ghost. He exhaled. It was the butler. Evander hurried to open the door.

  The butler stood in front of him with an apple that had a large bite in it. “I hate to trouble you, Your Grace, but I bumped into this apple with my foot when I entered the servants’ stairway a few minutes ago.”

  Evander’s gaze went from the apple to the butler. Was there someone in the townhouse who wasn’t supposed to be here? Certainly, no ghost needed to eat an apple. Ghosts were dead. They didn’t require food at all.

  “There aren’t supposed to be any apples in this townhouse,” the butler continued. “The Cook didn’t order any. I took the liberty of inspecting the rooms and found one that’s currently being occupied even though none of the servants have been staying there. I found a valise and some clothes. I also found this.” He tucked the apple under his arm and pulled out a vial from his pocket. “My cousin is an apothecary, and this is a medicine that puts people to sleep. This has been used. I can’t tell how recently, but as you can tell, some of it’s missing.”

  He lifted it up for Evander to inspect, but Evander’s mind shifted to the fact that he’d fallen asleep yesterday afternoon. “When you get my meal and bring it up, do you watch Cook prepare it?”

  The butler shook his head. “I wait until he tells me it’s ready and then get it.”

  “Was the meal in the kitchen when you got it?”

  “Yes.”

  Ignoring the confusion in the butler’s voice, he continued, “Was anyone in the kitchen when you got the meal?”

  “No. But that’s not unusual. Cook often takes a break that time of day.”

  So, it was possible this person—his mother, perhaps—had used the contents of that vial to put him to sleep. Then she would have had plenty of time to bring the mirror up to this attic. With the servants, Viola, and Tabitha preoccupied, she would have been able to move around undetected.

  Evander felt sick to his stomach. He swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. “Show me the room this stranger’s been staying in.”

  The butler turned and led the way down the stairs.

  Evander followed, though his body trembled with dread. He didn’t need to see the things. Really, he didn’t. Deep down, he knew Viola had been right. His mother was still alive. But a part of him—the part that desperately wanted to think the best of his mother—had to see them. If there was a vagrant on the streets who’d managed to sneak into this townhouse, he would feel so much better. But he had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to discover that.

  Evander had never been down the servants’ stairs, nor had he seen their rooms. The butler took the lighted candle he’d left on the small table in the hallway and led Evander into the section of the townhouse where only the servants were supposed to go. There wasn’t much space, but someone could freely move around with their belongings, and one of those belongings could include his mother’s large mirror. A mirror that was used as a calling card.

  He forced the thought aside and focused on the rooms he passed as he went deeper into the servants’ quarters. A couple of rooms had two beds, but there were others with single beds. It seemed the servants had all decided to stay close
together. They passed two empty rooms before coming upon the one that was opened a crack.

  “This is where I found the things,” the butler whispered.

  Evander braced himself for what was to come then passed the butler so he could enter the room. The room had a stale smell to it, signifying that no one had been in it for a long time. There was a small cot with no sheets or blankets on it.

  “I found the valise under the bed,” the butler said. “I put it back under there in case the intruder came back. I didn’t want to let her know she’d been discovered.”

  She? The butler had referred to the intruder as a she.

  Evander glanced back at the butler. He supposed in the manor at the country estate, there were so many rooms to hide that his mother could go undetected. There was an entire wing that people rarely ever visited. She could easily hide there, and she wouldn’t need to hide her things. Such wasn’t the case here. This townhouse was much smaller. Though, had it not been for the abandoned apple, who knew if the butler, or another servant, would have discovered her?

  He didn’t think she dropped the apple on purpose. It had to have been an accident. Perhaps she heard someone coming and dropped it in her haste to get away. Perhaps she’d been carrying something with her at the time and couldn’t keep her hold on the apple and the other thing. Whatever the case, she’d made the mistake of dropping it, and because of that, the butler had discovered her hideout.

  Evander dutifully knelt by the bed and peered under it. He saw the familiar maroon-colored valise. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked at it again. He’d thought this had been burned in the bedchamber, but she must have packed some things into it and hid it before setting fire to the room. With a shaking hand, he reached out and grabbed it.

  When he could trust himself to speak without giving away the heavy weight of disappointment pressing down on him, he said, “I need more light.”

  The butler hurried to go over to him and held the candle toward him.

  He pulled the valise from under the bed but remained kneeling as he sorted through the contents inside it. His mother’s brush. His mother’s hand mirror. One of the gowns the ghost had worn. Another gown the ghost had worn. Then there were a couple of familiar veils. He even recognized the slippers. And at the bottom was a small wooden horse he’d made for her when he was a child. Except it didn’t look like a horse. He hadn’t possessed enough skill to make it look like a horse. It looked more like an awkward circle on top of a rectangle with little legs sticking out. But he knew it was a horse. He remembered how proud she’d been of him. It was the first gift he’d made for her. “I’ll cherish this forever,” she’d told him.

  He bowed his head so the butler wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. The last piece of hope he’d been holding onto was extinguished. His mother was alive.

  “Please leave me alone,” Evander whispered, afraid if he spoke louder, the butler would know he was crying.

  The butler set the candle on the small table by the cot and left him alone.

  Evander sorted through the rest of the valise, blinking through the tears in his eyes so he could better see them. Everything in it was his mother’s. Viola had been right. His mother had faked her own death. She couldn’t have him all to herself in life, so she alienated him from the rest of the world after her death. She killed his first wife then came to him as a ghost and made up the story about a curse. And then she killed every other lady he married. She refused to let anyone get close to him.

  “Why do you have to get married?” she’d asked when he told her he had proposed to Tabitha’s mother. “Hasn’t it been nice here between the two of us? Why bring someone in to interfere with that?”

  “Having another lady around here will be good,” he’d argued. “She’ll be a friend to you, and Tabitha will be your granddaughter. Our family will be fuller with them in it.” Besides, he had loved Rachel with all of his heart, and she’d loved him in return.

  He hadn’t added that last part. He’d been afraid she wouldn’t want to hear it. And he’d been right. She used to get upset with him if he wanted to do things without her. Sometimes he took Tabitha along when he and Rachel took a horse ride, a walk, or even had a picnic. But most of the time, he preferred to spend time alone with Rachel. The more he got to know her, the more he fell in love with her.

  And his mother had noticed. She’d grown increasingly resentful. He struggled to find a compromise in order to please both ladies. For a short time, his efforts worked, but eventually, the two ladies couldn’t be in the same room without getting into a fight. Rachel had tried to get along with her for his sake. His mother, on the other hand, accused him of deserting her. “I’m the one who gave you life,” she’d argue. “I raised you. I took care of you when you were sick. I was there for you when you were scared in the middle of the night. I gave you all of my time and attention. Everything I did was for you. And this is how you repay me? You push me aside? You shut me out? You devote all of your time and attention to her?”

  Rachel had gotten so miserable that he had started to contemplate getting a townhouse in London. The atmosphere wasn’t good for Rachel or Tabitha. As much as he hated to leave his mother, he had to do what was best for his wife and stepdaughter.

  Then the fire came. It was in the tenth month of his marriage to Rachel. And with his mother’s death, all talk of leaving for London was over. At the time, he felt so guilty for arguing with his mother on the night she died that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that she had faked her own death. Never once had it occurred to him that his mother would be so deceptive that she’d make everyone think she was dead in order to have him all to herself.

  But her plan had worked. One month later, Rachel died from what appeared to be an accident on the staircase. When his mother came to him, dressed up as a ghost, she made sure to tell him about the curse. But he hadn’t believed her. Then his second wife, Melinda, died. And then his third wife, Ursula, died. All of them had seen his face.

  And he fell for it. He believed his mother had died, and he believed she was a spirit who was restless because he was grieving. She’d said she’d wished he could be with a wife because she had come to realize how good one would be for him, but the curse forbade it. Over time, she would remind him of how serious the curse was, and over time, he came to accept her lie. Never once did he think she was murdering his wives in order to get rid of them.

  How could he have been so gullible? How could he have so blindly believed everything she’d told him?

  But even Tabitha and the servants had believed it. His mother made it a point to show up in the night as a ghost. Not that they knew it was supposed to be his mother’s spirit. All they knew was that the place had become haunted, and they blamed it on the curse. The paranoia got stronger among all of them until they couldn’t accept the possibility there might not be a curse or a ghost. It’d taken an outsider to come into the situation to figure it out.

  “Tabitha.”

  Blinking away his tears, he lifted his head. He had to tell Tabitha. She had a right to know how her mother and her two step-mothers died. She had to know there was no curse and there was no ghost. He didn’t know how he was going to tell her. It was hard enough for him to accept.

  But maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult for her. His mother hadn’t made it a point to isolate her from the rest of the world just to have her all to herself. She’d only done that to him.

  He closed his eyes for a moment to calm the sudden burst of anger that rose up within him. He’d known his mother had been controlling and demanding, but he hadn’t believed her capable of lies and murder.

  He needed to focus on Tabitha. He would tell her the truth. It was bound to open old wounds, and that would be terrible, but it would also help her realize there was no curse. She didn’t have to worry about losing another step-mother. He was going to make sure she never had to worry about Viola because he was going to find his mother and have her put in prison for the rest
of her life. She was finally going to be out of their lives once and for all.

  With newfound determination, he pushed the valise aside and rose to his feet. He grabbed the candle and headed out of the room. His mother had to be lurking somewhere in the townhouse. It was possible she had slipped outside to avoid detection once the butler went to get him, but he had to check this townhouse first.

  After making sure his mother wasn’t in any of the servants’ rooms, he left that section of the townhouse. The butler was waiting for him as soon as he stepped into the main hallway.

  “Is there anything I can do?” the butler asked.

  “Yes,” Evander replied. “Find the coachman and footman. I want the three of you to make sure no one leaves this townhouse.”

  He hoped he wasn’t too late in preventing his mother from leaving. He’d wasted considerable time in that small room as he struggled to come to terms with what was really happening.

  The butler nodded. “We’ll secure all the exits, Your Grace.”

  Evander turned and headed for the main rooms. It felt strange to be going through the entire place so openly. He’d been so used to confining himself to one room. Also, all of the lights from the candles were hard to take in. In the attic, at least, the small window had made sure the light was limited. He found himself intentionally looking away from all the candles.

  The first person he came across was a maid who was cleaning the den. She gasped and dropped her rag when she saw him.

  Ignoring her shock, he said, “Get all of the servants into the drawing room. The matter is urgent.”

  Without waiting for her to respond, he left the room. He didn’t think any of the servants would be helping his mother. His mother wanted all of them to think she was dead. They’d been frightened when she made herself appear as a ghost. And no one would talk to a ghost if they could help it. His mother had scared them away from the room he chose to hole himself up in. Now he realized she’d done that to keep as many people away from him as she could. She’d wanted to be the only influence in his life.