Dark Sonata Page 2

  A stable boy came running out then immediately dove out of the way for Bratt charged past him, running directly into the stables.

  “Whoa girl!” Victoria squeezed her legs tightly and pulled on the reins with force making the horse rear up. “Easy,” she cooed, trying to calm her spooked horse. After some nervous seconds Bratt calmed to a degree, snorting loudly and pounding the ground indignantly. Victoria dismounted immediately, nearly falling over as her foot became caught in the stirrup but regained her balance and sprinted outside.

  The young boy came running at her with wide eyes and was clearly out of breath for she could see his heavy exhales in the night’s chill. “M’lady, are ye well?” he asked breathlessly, dusting off his pants. “Is the horse mad?”

  “Is anyone following me?!”

  He turned around bewildered and shook his head. “No M’lady, should there be?”

  Victoria scanned the darkness seeing nothing and bit her lip, hoping she wasn’t losing her mind. “You saw nothing then? Not even an animal?” She asked almost hopeful, wanting him to confirm what she felt.

  He glanced at her, his green eyes narrowing in confusion. “I don’t understand Miss, I saw nothing out there but ye crazy horse. Nearly run me over, she did.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  Victoria closed her eyes. The vibrations were gone but she knew what she had felt earlier. “Please take care of Bratt,” she said meekly, knowing she must have looked like she’d lost her mind, along with the horse.

  He nodded and spat to the side. “If you don’t mind me sayin’ M’lady, but I think yer wanted inside. Lady Henrietta was askin’ yer whereabouts. She did not sound so happy from what I heard.” His dirty face contorted into what she could only assume was a look of pity.

  God above how could she have forgotten?

  This night was her cousin’s birthday and it would be a grand event indeed. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of seeing her cousin’s pinched expression as she fussed and moaned to get her way. When her parents had died the grand title had then passed to her uncle, Lord Henry Leslie, the current and rightful Duke. Victoria gritted her teeth, Henry was said to be a saint, one that would restore light to this lingering darkness. What utter nonsense that was, for Lord Henry was just as soulless as her father was said to be.

  And his daughter was the spawn of the Devil, completely and utterly spoiled rotten.

  “M'lady?”

  She shook her head and waved her hand. “Thank you, I shall see what is needed of me.”

  Victoria dismissed him and hurried to the house because she knew Henrietta was probably holding the staff hostage and demanding a human sacrifice. She got to the heavy stone doors and before she could reach the door handle, it opened swiftly. The butler had obviously seen her mad dash and was more than happy to help her in.

  He spoke with a cool air, “Lady Henrietta awaits you in her private apartments.”

  She grimaced, half with embarrassment, before thanking Clarence. His taut face spoke of how bad things were. More than bad—catastrophic. She paused, turning around to face the butler. “How bad?”

  She had to ask.

  The butler’s face went back to its trained indifference and said, “She threw a flowerpot at your grandmother, my Lady.”

  That bad. Victoria raised her delicately arched brows and nodded, like they were discussing the weather. “Thank you Clarence.” She raced up the stairs to the west wing, reaching Henrietta’s room where she swallowed deep, her head starting to throb subtly. She felt a thickness in the air, almost like the sensation one feels right before they pass out.

  She knocked.

  Footsteps were heard as the door swung open, Henrietta’s ladies maid Jane Maxwell greeted her with wide eyes. “My Lady, please do come in,” she murmured with a slight curtsy.

  Victoria walked into Henrietta’s grossly pink flourished room to see her lying down on the satin bed with what looked to be hot towels draped on her face, for there was steam was visible.

  “Is that Victoria?” came the muffled but stern voice.

  She desperately wanted to say, no. Victoria answered, leaving the acid from her tone. She sighed, “How are you feeling, dear Henrietta?”

  Henrietta sat up and jerked the towel from her face revealing red flushed features. Her eyes narrowed doing unattractive things to her forehead, “Are you simple minded?” she spat.

  Victoria took that as a rhetorical question.

  Henrietta got off the bed and marched toward her, “For God’s sake! It’s my birthday and just look at my face!” she took a quick breath, “the redness is not going away and the party will start with me not looking my best!” Her voice broke painfully as tears sprang from her bloodshot, sea green eyes. “And this little whore,” she pointed to her maid, “Was spreading her legs for the footman and failed to bring me a glass of sherry for my nerves!”

  Victoria was confused on what she could do about it. But knowing that she treaded on very delicate ground here she had to come up with something or everyone in this household would suffer greatly. “Maybe all you need is to put a bit of face cream on it. It’s probably just dried out from the cleansing, a quick fix.”

  I would love nothing more than to tell Jane to put a laxative in her sherry.

  Henrietta screamed at Jane, throwing a hot towel at her. “Don’t stand there you little fool! Go get me cream!” Henrietta then turned to Victoria, “We have the best guest list in all of England tonight and I need to be the prettiest. I deserve to be the bell of the ball.” She arched a skinny brown brow, daring Victoria to disagree.

  Henrietta was, in fact, very pretty in the general sense of the word but her personality made her as ugly as sin. Her long auburn locks hung in a frizzy disarray and her slightly larger nose was bright pink matching her flushed cheeks. To be honest, Victoria found herself trying not to smile at her unfortunate predicament. The situation was actually quite humorous. What did she expect would happen if she rubbed her skin raw?

  Victoria’s mouth twitched. “Oh, don’t fret about it. I’m sure everything will turn out perfectly.”

  “Ha! Easy for you to say,” Henrietta hissed as she started to pace the room, her pale dressing gown flowing around her. “You think this is funny don’t you? If my face does not heal I want you to scrub your face as well, making it bleed. I will not have the men falling at your feet because of my unfortunate, tragic condition.”

  Anger swelled inside Victoria, all humor gone.

  She laughed. “Oh don’t give me that look, dear cousin. Father has all but said that Viscount Middlethorpe had made his intentions very clear. You needn’t worry, why, you could be wed and wealthy by next season.” She smiled making her face redden more, painfully so.

  Viscount Middlethorpe was a rat. If there was another more perverse man to ever grace this planet she’d be shocked. The two times that she had had the unfortunate experience of being in his presence he tried to gain access into the confines of her clothing by calling her a little dockside whore.

  Victoria schooled her expression and smiled sweetly. “Why don’t you just change it to a masquerade. You still have time to tell everyone to bring a mask, and those who don’t can use the extras in the storage when they arrive. It is your birthday after all …” Victoria said levelly, even though she wanted to scream. Or maybe scratch Henrietta’s eyes out and let her loose in the woods to fend for herself. A morbid thought but satisfying none the less.

  There was silence.

  “That would definitely fix my problem; I like it,” Henrietta turned and yelled painfully loud, “Jane!” She turned back and giggled, “I knew you would come up with something Victoria, darling. Go make it happen.”

  She went to leave but Henrietta stopped her.

  “Oh and I would like to wear your choker tonight, it would match perfectly with my dress I think. It is my birthday, as you know.” Henrietta’s eyes took on the shape of a sly feline.

  Anything but that!

  Henriett
a knew how much Victoria treasured the choker. It was the only thing that kept her powers at bay, the opal choker being given to her at birth. Why did she want to wear it when she had diamonds and jewels worth so much more? Yes, Henrietta wanted it because she knew Victoria would be torn. “Wouldn’t diamonds fit better for this evening?” she squeaked.

  “Do not make me mad or I will tell Father.” She smiled, looking like the evil brat that she was. If she didn’t give in she would be denied food for another day. Which is why she always had to keep her anger in check or pay the price.

  Indeed, Victoria needed the sherry.

  Chapter two

  Her heart was beating quickly, rapidly pounding blood through her rigid body as she stared out of her bedchamber window.

  Yes, something was out there that shouldn’t be.

  She exhaled as her sapphire eyes searched the dark night, her warm breath fogging up the window. The guests would be arriving at any moment; Victoria could already see the first of the carriages making its way slowly down the extended drive. It was raining. The shimmer of the water across the land reflected the moonlight. Victoria gazed up into the grim sky as the storm began. This was not an ideal night for a Grand Ball. Most of the guests would have to stay the night for the roads would be too dangerous to travel, a death trap with the mud. Serves them all right.

  Victoria heard yelling coming from somewhere distant down the hall. As she listened, the sound drew nearer. Dear God it sounded like complete chaos. Multiple voices were in the mix of the shouting and screaming. Her heart beat was probably audible it pounded so hard. Her tunnel vision set in as she zoned in on her bedchamber door as she listened.

  No, don’t stop in front of the door. Let this not be about me …

  “Victooo-ria!” the shrill voice echoed and vibrated the walls.

  No …

  Her heart dropped. Victoria ran to the door to pull it open but before she could it was thrown open almost hitting her square in the face. The sight she beheld was horrifying as she stumbled backwards. Her Aunt and Uncle stood to one side of the door and her cousin on the other. Their faces were masked with rage, narrowed eyes fixed on her. Hatred danced in their gazes.

  What had she done this time?!

  Her uncle appeared to be in the middle of dressing, for his shirt tails were out of his breaches and his cravat hung loosely around his shoulders. The Duke would never leave his room without looking impeccable. Henrietta and her Aunt were dressed, thankfully, but they didn’t look any less menacing. They shot daggers with their eyes as if they were mentally slaughtering her to pieces, and loving it.

  “Damn you! Your stupid horse is ruining everything! The guests are terrified!” Henrietta cried, her voice cracking, eyes blood shot as if she’d been crying. She inched forward, her pretty face contorting into a look of utter revulsion. Her elaborate violet gown swished with each step, the amount of cream lace seeming to take up Victoria’s small room. “You ungrateful little bitch! Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t strangle you?!”

  Henrietta’s harsh language confused Victoria.

  The Duke also marched into the room, pushing his daughter to the side. His round face was flushed and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. “What the devil did you do?! That’s a prized mare!” he continued, “You—”

  “Father, she did it because she wanted to spoil my birthday! She was jealous, angry that I would wear her choker for only one night. She is a spiteful shrew!” She wiped her eyes, her theatrics perfected.

  Victoria looked from left to right trying to piece together what was happening. Her Uncle looked at her, his dark eyes budging with fury. “Tell me what have you done you little whore?! I will beat it out of you if you do not speak! Fifty lashes I will!”

  Victoria held up her trembling hands, a frightened tear streamed down her pale cheek. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she pleaded, whispering to ease their tempers. “Please speak calmly.”

  Henrietta glared at her, seething. “Your horse has gone mad! Trampling anyone in her bloody sight! She had broken out of the stables—then damn thing is possessed!”

  “What? No …” Victoria paled, her mind flustered.

  What?!

  “Oh yes, no one can get her to calm down! I know you rode her earlier and you did something! Now the dogs are acting up, following your brainless mare!” she shrieked. “She is charging after my guests, nearly running over high nobility! Ramming into other horses causing utter chaos, on my birthday! I shall be the laughing stock!” she continued, tears springing from her puffy, red eyes. “You stupid witch!”

  Victoria’s heart was beating out of control. Her horse, Brat, was the only thing she ever loved, the mare being her escape from this life. “Please, Brat does not even listen to me, how could I drive her to do something like this? And why? I didn’t—“ Victoria tried to plea her case but her mind instantly blurred and her vision came in and out. Pain seared her cheek from her uncle’s slap ...

  Another sharp slap to her other cheek made her vision blur.

  “Don’t you dare interrupt my daughter, you hear me witch? You are the only one who rides that wretched horse. You must have put one of your curses over the animal, your witchcraft,” he spat with a deadly glint in his eye, daring her to deny the claim.

  Victoria closed her eyes unable to comprehend what was being said. What a mess. Right then one of the footmen came running into the tension-filled room, pale and out of breath.

  “Your Grace, p-please forgive me but we cannot calm the horse nor the dogs, they are frightening the guests. I am unsure of what to do and the weather isn’t helping.” He looked from face to face, not realizing what he barged into.

  Tears threatened to comsume Victoria.

  The Duke cursed and spit flew out of his mouth. He turned towards the footman and pointed, shouting, “Shoot the bastard horse and the dogs! God take them all!”

  Victoria gasped.

  Her world tilted violently.

  The footman faltered, his surprised gaze shifting to Victoria. He knew how much she treasured the mare. “Y-yes, your Grace, it shall be done,” he whispered then paused for a second longer then turned to yell the orders to the men waiting in the hallway. “Shoot them all, now! Before they harm anyone! They have gone rouge!”

  No, she couldn’t let this happen! Her horse would never do such a thing. Yes, the nature of the mare was stubborn but she was also a gentle soul and would never harm anything! It was something else, something she felt earlier by the window. It had to be affecting the animals in a negative way.

  Without thinking she pushed past the Duke barely clearing his grasping hand and ran after the footman. The footman took off into a mad dash yelling at the man with the gun to hurry. Victoria saw a stout man holding a rifle, his round body heading towards the entrance.

  The footman grabbed her arm jerking her backwards. “Stop my Lady, it ... has ... to be done!” The tall man struggled, trying to hold her tightly in an attempt to stop her from intervening. “The Duke ... will have your head, please!”

  “Let go!” Victoria screamed back then kicked him hard in the groin making him release her instantly, hissing in pain. “Oh! Forgive me!” And she chased after the man with the gun, running into people on her way out.

  Her mind was a blur. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Victoria ran past guests in their evening finery, not realizing she was still undressed. It was unseemly! Her hair was down in disarray and her dressing gown revealed undergarments from underneath! A man stood in her way, Lord Something-or-other, and looked her over with wide-assessing eyes. Desire flashed in his dark gaze as he barely moved out of her way. Blast it. She’d worry about this dilemma later, right now she had to find her horse before she was shot. Making it outside and dodging prying eyes she could hear shouts mixed with the now heavy storm. The wind and rain hit her from the side, relentlessly blowing under her dressing gown. Victoria gasped and wrapped her arms around herself.


  It was freezing for the wind made it almost unbearable.

  In a long line, the carriages were waiting for their turn to pull up to the entrance in the pouring rain; a couple of gentlemen appeared to be on horseback. Her eyes scanned farther down the line and she sucked in her breath. A carriage had run off the road and several men were attending to it. Then she sighted her horse.

  Brat!

  From this distance she could tell the horse was a danger to itself and others. Bucking and kicking like a crazed animal! The white mare was charging, snorting big puffs of air and stomping about. There were more men around her trying their best to calm the irate horse but to no avail. These weren’t the actions of her horse … something must have gotten into her.

  Dear heavens …

  Movement caught her eye and she saw the chubby gunman running towards the horse. Panic hit her. It was about four hundred yards away and he was already halfway there! Victoria took off into a dead sprint, plunging into the storm without a second thought to consequence. She could run very fast in her bare feet, being swift of foot since she was little. Reaching down she pulled up the thin material and ran like hell through the storm. Her long hair blew left and right whipping her in the face as she ran, the downpour making it difficult to see.

  A streak of lightning flashed across the turbulent sky making her lose her footing. Her body hit the grass as she rolled down the small hill, knocking her elbow on a jagged rock. Pain erupted inside her but she ignored it. Get up! She got up and peered around, wiping wet hair out of her eyes, completely out of breath. The corset she was wearing didn’t allow her to breathe properly. Blasted thing! Trying to get air into her lungs she looked around and it appeared that the man with the gun had also fallen. Thankfully he was not as quick in getting up as she was. Victoria ran towards him, squinting as the rain continued to beat down on her. The man finally stood, stumbled a bit, and then looked back.