Shannon Drake - Wicked

“No, no, dear! He was so restless that we gave him laudanum. He isn’t at all dead. Well, I guess you can’t actually be partially dead…Here I am, making no sense. He’s all right. He probably won’t be coherent, not that I seem to be doing much of a job in that direction.” Evelyn, who had appeared such a composed woman, apparently did have a sense of sympathy, and was therefore flustered by Camille’s heartfelt and terrified show of emotion. “Dear girl!” Evelyn continued. “Run on over, give him a hug. He may wake enough to recognize you.”

Not dead, not dead, not dead! That was all that registered in Camille’s mind. Then Evelyn’s words sank in and she found the strength to tear across the room to the bed. Once there, she saw that there was color in Tristan’s face and that he was breathing deeply.

In fact, as she hovered just above him, afraid for a moment to touch, he let out the most winded snort she had heard in the whole of her life. Flushing, she turned back to the door where Evelyn Prior remained.

“See, he is quite alive,” Evelyn assured her softy again.

Camille nodded, then looked down at her guardian. He was dressed in a handsome linen nightgown—something he had never possessed in all his life, she was certain. He’d been cared for and well tended, that was obvious. The monster of Carlyle wanted his prisoners to be in decent shape when he saw them prosecuted, so it appeared.

She fell to her knees by Tristan’s side, clutching his shoulders in a gentle hug, laying her head against his chest. “Tristan!” she whispered softly, tears springing to her eyes. Whatever sins he had committed in his life, he had surely redeemed himself when he had saved her, when he had given up his goods—ill-gotten and by other means—to feed a number of the street urchins they had known in their days together. But why now, when she had come to a point in her life where she could take care of them…?

“You sorry son of a sailor!” she muttered, lifting her head, angrily wiping tears from her cheeks. “Tristan, what on earth were you doing?” she whispered fervently.

He inhaled on another snort, blinked and met her eyes. Tenderness came to his, the gentleness that really was the crux of the man. “Camille, moppet! Camille….” He frowned, as if aware that she shouldn’t be there. But the effort was too much. He blinked again, but his eyes closed, and she heard only the depth of his breathing once again.

“You see?” Evelyn called from the doorway. “The man has been quite decently tended. Now, come along, dear. I’ll show you where you may sleep tonight.”

She rose, kissed Tristan on the forehead, adjusted his covers and then turned to follow Evelyn. The woman led her out, closed the door firmly but silently and started down the hall again at a brisk speed.

“Mrs. Prior,” Camille began, racing after her, “I can see that no harm has been done to my guardian, but, as you can understand, I’m anxious to get him home.”

“I’m sorry, dear, but I do believe that Brian intends to prosecute.”

“Brian?” she murmured, puzzled.

“The Earl of Carlyle,” Mrs. Prior said patiently.

“Oh, but he can’t! He mustn’t!”

“Perhaps you’ll be able to talk him out of it in the morning. Oh, dear! If only you hadn’t worked for the museum!”

“To the very best of my knowledge, Mrs. Prior, many people have fallen prey to Egyptian asps. It is a danger of the desert region.”

Mrs. Prior stared at her in a way that made her feel severely uncomfortable, as if she had, until that point, been deemed an intelligent young woman.

“This is your door, Miss Montgomery. The castle is large and winding, started with the Norman Conquest and built on ever since, not always with the best architectural eye! I suggest you refrain from roaming in the night. There is a quite modern bath connected to this guest room, I do say with some pride. Night clothing and toiletries have been left at your disposal. In the morning, dear, this situation will be solved, one way or the other.”

“Yes…thank you. But wait! Perhaps, if I understood more—”

“The earl is awaiting me, Miss Montgomery. Sleep well.”

“Oh! But Ralph, our valet—”

“Has been seen to!” Mrs. Prior called back over her shoulder. She disappeared around a corner.

Somewhat aggravated by her dismissal, Camille stepped into the hallway, debating the course of simply running after the woman and demanding more answers.

But just as easily as Evelyn Prior had disappeared, the hound from hell reappeared. It sat in the hallway and stared at her. She had never known before that dogs could actually sneer and dare someone, but that was exactly what this hound was doing.

She pointed at the animal. “You, sir, will get yours one day!” she vowed.

The dog growled.

Camille stepped quickly into the room she had been assigned and closed the door. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes with a beating heart, conflicting emotions racing through her. Then she opened her eyes and gasped.

The room was quite incredible. The bed was handsomely canopied, topped with a rich, embroidered ivory quilt and numerous pillows. The rest of the furnishings were…Egyptian.

Startled, she walked across to the dressing table and realized that certain pieces from antiquity had been copied for the decor and combined with current Victorian detail to create something of a fantasy. A dressing table with smooth, stark lines was topped with a threefold mirror, carved with a symbol of the god Horus, wings spread, in a typical manner of protection. A large trunk was covered with hieroglyphs, as was the tall standing wardrobe. Chairs that stood before draperies were carved with the great protective wings of Horus, as well.

She turned and was startled by a large statue of a pharaoh. Walking toward it, she narrowed her eyes. The statue was real. Hatshepsut, she thought, the female pharaoh who had herself displayed with a beard, showing her world that she was a woman, but one with the power of a man.

The statue was surely priceless. And set here, in a guest room? It was a museum piece, she thought angrily.

On the other side of the door, she discovered another life-size statue, this one of the goddess Anat. A war goddess, Anat was supposed to protect the pharaoh in battle. She was usually sculpted or drawn with a shield, a lance and a battle-ax. This statue was slightly damaged. Still, a great find. A priceless relic! And here, in a guest room!

Camille stepped back, wondering if she had purposely been given this room. The statues might well unnerve most women. In fact, she was certain that many a young respectable woman—the type preparing for her season before society—might well awake in the night terrified and screaming bloody murder, certain the curse of the castle had awakened the statues, that they had become real and were seeking her in the night…. In the firelight, they were decidedly eerie, Camille admitted.

“But I’m not afraid!” she said aloud, then winced. It was as if she were assuring some long-dead or mythical creature that she was beyond its control. “Nonsense!” she whispered to herself.

Two lamps burned on stark little tables on either side of the bed. They, too, were in Egyptian motifs. And rather shockingly, both depicted the fertility god Min with his huge, erect phallus and double-plumed headdress. Camille hardly thought herself prudish, but really…!

Shaking her head, she had a feeling that she would not have been assigned to this room if she hadn’t tempted the earl’s fury with her assertion of the truth—that she worked for the museum. She had been sent here, she was certain, with a sense of vengeance. With that thought, she smiled. Fine.

She ventured more fully into the room, pulling back the draperies behind the chairs. There were, indeed, windows there. At one time, she was certain, they had not held panes, nor had they been quite so large. They showed the width of the castle stone, and in that they were far more startling than the Egyptian artifacts. At one time, these walls had been made for protection. Castle Carlyle had once defied the swords and arrows of the enemy, just as surely as the earl now defended himself from English society behind his bastion of stone and strength.