Upon A Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(46)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

"Forgive me, but you’ve been given everything." Stefan argued. "A titled husband? Wealth? And children, regardless of where they came from."

"Love!" the witch yelled. "Acceptance! It’s all I wanted from my husband, from Edward, or from his family. I received nothing. None of it. So I take from you what you took from me."

Stefan was dizzy with her speech. "And what did I take from you?"

"My husband. You killed him!"

Rosalind stirred. Stefan made a move to stand in front of her as she lay across the bed. No telling what her insane mother would do. Perhaps he was right, and she was the type to eat her own young.

"I did nothing of the sort." Stefan said in soothing tones. "He died of the curse, do you forget?"

"You rejected Rosalind! It killed him! His heart was weak! You killed him!" She manically waved the dagger in the air. "So I killed her. I have no care for those children; they may as well be adopted. Because of them, I was hated. You do not deserve to be happy. Now, we are even." With a laugh, she laid back down on the bed. "Yes, finally! Edward! I did it for you, Edward! We are even! And now we can be happy together…"

Rosalind stirred again. Stefan muffled a curse and looked out the window. How to escape without causing Rosalind harm or getting killed by the evil mother? A movement caught his eye.

Samson! Of course! He whistled and quickly thanked his lucky stars that his horse was in fact part human, or at least seemed to be as he lifted his head to unhook the branch his lead was tied to and walked slowly to the door.

Stefan made a promise to give Samson his body weight in oats if they pulled this off.

Rosalind stirred again, and suddenly Stefan’s memory brought forth pictures of their first meeting, when she fell into his arms. When the horrible curse started. If he could go back and change those words, he would. For it was never the idea of marriage that put him off, and now looking at her helpless body, he realized he would do anything and everything in his power to protect what was his. Even if it meant leaving.

Rosalind’s mother shrieked and cackled as she kicked her feet on the bed. It was now or never. As quiet as possible, he lifted Rosalind into his arms, and noticing that he had mere seconds before the mom charged after him, he ran to the door threw it open and put Rosalind on Samson.

"Take her home boy, take her home." Rosalind’s body was lying across Samson, she would be fine. The minute Samson trotted away; he heard a shriek as though from the pit of Hell emerge from the direction of the cottage.

He leapt out of the way just in time as the dagger flew from the witch’s grasp, aimed straight for his heart.

Now, she was without a weapon. She ran at him eyes blazing. A shot rang in the distance, and the insane woman fell to the ground.

Mr. Fitzgerald dropped the pistol, his hands shaking. "I didn’t know her madness had reached this far… I saw — I saw the horse and Rosalind…" He looked down at his hands then back at Stefan. "Did I kill her?"

With his heart beating wildly in his chest, Stefan checked the dowager’s body for a pistol shot. "No, you hit her in the arm. She stirs even now. The walls of Bedlam will be the first thing she sees when she awakens."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The heart will break, but broken live on.

~ Lord Byron ~

Rosalind’s mouth tasted bitter and dry. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was the wine and Stefan and…

"Stefan!" The blackness of the room brought terror rather than comfort. Where was he? Where was she?

Frantic, she looked around, not noticing anything familiar about her surroundings.

The door clicked open.

"How are you feeling?" Stefan’s mother walked in with a worried expression plastered across her face.

"I…" Rosalind found she couldn’t speak. "I’m not sure. Is Stefan here? Is he alright?"

The Dowager Duchess of Montmouth smiled. "Well. The last time I’ve seen him this worried was when his father died. Though he never took to spirits like he has now. I believe my son has also taken to talking to his horse." She smiled to herself and shook her head. "But I assure you, he will be fine. He survived a shipwreck after all. Now dear, how do you feel? Can you move?"

Rosalind tried to wiggle her toes. Everything felt right, except for the nagging tiredness that seemed to plague her body. "Was it another spell then?"

"The wine." The Dowager sat on the bed and patted Rosalind’s hand. "Child, it seems your mother was trying to poison you and Stefan."

"But…" Rosalind’s mind was barely able to wrap around the idea. "Surely she’s mad, but to kill me? Her own daughter?"

"Bitterness does things that sometimes we do not understand, Rose. I’ve brought your godmother here to the house to attend to your needs. Your sister wasn’t to be found anywhere on the estate, perhaps she was out."

Rosalind shifted, so Stefan hadn’t told anyone of her sister’s betrothal. "Isabelle is to be married to the new Earl of Harris. She left a day ago."

"I know, dear, and how sad that must be for you. But I was talking of Gwen, the sister with that raven black hair. She seems to be missing. It is of no matter though. I’ve told Stefan to locate her at once."

"Gone?" Gwen would never run away, would she? What if something happened to her? "And mother?"

"At Bedlam. Now rest dear. You both have done your jobs, the curse is broken, even Fitz is getting better."

Rosalind nodded and laid her head back on the pillow. She couldn’t help but feel a nagging suspicion that things were far from over. With both sisters gone and the families’ health returning, why did she feel so horrid? Granted, her own mother had tried to kill her, but she had been slowly going mad ever since her father died.

With a sigh, she fought to close her eyes. Perhaps Stefan would have some answers upon his return.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

There is no instinct like that of the heart.

~ Lord Byron ~

Stefan cursed as he kicked the desk in front of him. How had Gwen done it? The only clue they had of the whereabouts of the youngest sister was now with Gwen. And the middle sister was now traveling in search of her.

All of them under his protection. Both gone, and his wife had almost died. Could things possibly get worse? The only positive in the whole situation was that the curse seemed to have lifted. Fitz health was returning to normal, his mother was able to walk around without much help and Elaina was back to being Elaina.

Another problem he had no desire to look at. It seemed to be the woman’s only joy in life to enrage Stefan with every word that dripped from her mouth. To think that he would even think of having an affair with the woman! He was married, as was she, and he didn’t forget the haughty looks thrown between James and her when Fitz was on his death bed.