Chapter Text
Chapter one
“Accept my offer, Mrs. Sachs, or you shall bitterly regret it!” The poisonous words were hurled but a few inches from her face, and Miranda cursed the heavy folds of her gown that kept her from rising swiftly from her chair and turning away from that accursed man who could not understand no for an answer. Only her wit and presence of mind might yet save her from this dreadful creature, grown more audacious with every passing day. I must find a way to drive him away, to keep him from my girls. She lifted her chin, striving not to recoil from the foulness of his breath.
“Proposing and menacing in the same sentence, baron Brownhill? You possess a most singular notion of courtship…”
But her words were cut short when he seized her wrist in a brutal grip and pulled her against him, his other hand clutching at her hair and forcing her head backward. It happened so swiftly that Miranda had no time to cry out. He will dishonour me, then kill me, she thought, her eyes widening in terror as she met the wild gleam in his. In her mind she reckoned where each of her meagre household might be: old John at the market, Mary—thank heaven—had taken her beloved girls to church, and Liz was away visiting her sister. I am alone, she realised, no one will hear me scream.
“You will be mine, woman, by will or by force!” he growled and Miranda had this strange feeling of her soul retreating from her body when, suddenly, a sharp voice spoke behind them, accompanied by the unmistakable click of a cocked pistol.
“Step back, sir, or this breath shall be your last.”
Brownhill froze, his bloodshot eyes flicking sideways, yet he did not release her, and answered without turning.
“This is none of your affair! I am Baron Brownhill, and this estate will soon be mine. Be gone!”
The voice came nearer, calm and resolute, and Miranda felt the faintest bloom of hope.
“On the contrary, it is entirely my affair, for this land is mine by law and name, and you dare lay hands upon my fiancée. I did give you fair warning, but you appear both slow-witted and ill-bred, so…”
A deafening gunshot rang out. The baron fell with a howl, clutching his bleeding foot, and Miranda staggered backward as he released her, at last able to see her saviour.
A tall, slender figure stood in the doorway, smoke curling from the barrel of a pistol. His travelling cloak was worn; beneath it she glimpsed the hilt of a sword, and a child, half-hidden. A brown-skinned child... boy or girl, she could not tell. Miranda’s gaze rose to the stranger’s face, marred by a long, oblique scar that cut across his forehead and ended just above the brow, and she gasped. The resemblance to her late husband was uncanny, it could only be his younger brother. But no, those eyes—shadowed though they were—she would have known them anywhere. It was Andrea, her Andrea! Her darling child returned to her at last! She was alive, and… Miranda’s thoughts were interrupted by Andrea’s voice and when she spoke to answer the baron, the voice was no longer that of the tender, laughing girl she had loved and lost fourteen years ago. It was deeper, rasped by time and hardship… cold, menacing.
“Are you mad? Who are you? One of the Sachses? A cursed family, the lot of you… I shall… I shall…”
“You shall leave this house at once,” Andrea interrupted evenly, “and if ever you dare set foot upon our lands again, I will shoot you. Again.” The baron’s eye bulged. Andrea continued without falter. “And again. And again. Until you have emptied yourself of every drop of blood.” Brownhill had stopped breathing, and stared, open mouthed. “And then, I might shoot once more, merely for amusement.”
“You are deranged! I shall lodge a complaint…”
“Do,” Andrea replied. “We are three witnesses to your conduct, and none of us saw how you managed to wound yourself. Such clumsiness, Baron.”
With difficulty, the baron struggled to stand pulling at the furniture and cursing under his breath.
“Damn you both… fiancée… hah! Who would desire a white-haired widow, cold as marble?… An old crone and a reckless youth… what a ludicrous pair you make!”
“Baron, I will now count to five then start shooting again, consider yourself warned.” Andrea announced in a detached voice. “One. Two.” The pistol clicked again.
The baron stumbled away, half-running, half-limping, in a cloud of insults and curses. As his steps faded down the corridor, Miranda felt the air return to her lungs. She turned, trembling.
“Darling…”
“Madam,” the stranger said, bowing slightly, “I fear you mistake me for another. I was but a child when we departed for the New World, thus allow me to present myself and my young companion. My name is Andrew Sachs, Earl of Wonburgh, son of Lord Richard and Lady Jane, brother to the late Thomas Sachs, your departed husband, and twin to the late Andrea Sachs, my lost sister.”
Miranda froze. Andrea… dead? Impossible, her heart refused it, though reason whispered otherwise. A tear escaped her lashes and she whispered:
“How... when?...”
But Andrew did not seem to hear her, or plainly ignored her questions, and in the same placid voice presented the child beside him, placing a gentle hand upon the child’s shoulder.
“And this is my daughter, Julie. Julie Sachs, Lady Miranda Sachs.”
“How do you do?” The voice was soft, uncertain, touched with a foreign accent.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, dear.” Miranda murmured automatically, struck by the child’s great, dark eyes, the same doe eyes her daughters had, a trait that graced the members of the Sachs line. The same eyes her beloved Andrea once had… she looked into the lord’s eyes and, behind a thousand burdens and scars, behind the shadows and defences, she swore she recognized Andrea’s tender gaze. She remembered it as clearly as she remembered Andrea’s singsong voice consoling her that afternoon when she had found Miranda weeping in the conservatory. One day, I will come on a white horse and save you. We will marry and you will always be happy, you will forget how to cry.
Miranda raised inquisitive eyes to her saviour who eluded her gaze. Her throat tightened. She forced a faint smile.
“Welcome back home… Andrew.”