Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(57)

“Blamed you?” Stefan managed to sound curious. “For what?”

“They said my wickedness caused my husband harm! They said—” She panted for breath, “—that if I didn’t give children, the curse would take over the families. It wasn’t enough that we married. We needed children…”

“You have children, you sold one and are attempting to kill another…” Probably not the best time to remind the woman of her madness, but Stefan’s anger was having a hard time staying at bay. A whimper escaped Rosalind. At least she was making noise. Panic seized his heart. He could not lose her now. He couldn’t live if he did.

“They are not my children!” She wailed. “None of them! Edward is their father.”

“Are you not their mother?” Stefan noticed Rosalind’s eyes flutter. Thank you, God, he thought.

“I carried them yes, I birthed them, but it was always my fault that my husband could not father children. For my wickedness with another man, the same man that fathered them. And now he hates me—he has turned on me all because I wanted the money.”

“The money?” Truly, if Stefan wasn’t so worried, he would have a half a mind to be confused. Was she merely mad or speaking truths?”

“Yes, we needed money. But we have money now, and we have a title. The curse is broken with you two married, but I could not allow you to be happy. I am sorry. I really am. But it would not be fair for you two to be happy while I have been sad and rejected all my life.”

“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 was just in time to move away as the dagger flew from the witch's grasp, aiming 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?”

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.