Victorian Secrets

By Scarsky

The charming Viscount does not appear to be entirely human...

Miss Tabitha Windsor is five and twenty, and employed at Howick House as a governess. Since childhood, she has been able to sense the supernatural. Her life alters drastically when she meets a man of the kind she's been told to always avoid.

Viscount Nathaniel resides in his mansion at Scarborough in self-imposed exile when he meets the lovely Miss Windsor. Though he finds himself drawn to her, he has secrets to hide and a dark past that threatens to unravel everything.

In the ordinary streets of London, extraordinary events are occurring. Despite her precautions, Tabitha finds herself caught in the middle of two factions on the verge of war and a darkness that threatens to disrupt everything forever.

Will life ever be the same again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarsky
• Release date: May 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9789811872884

Scarsky

Hello, I'm Scarsky!I’m a fiction author who enjoys writing romance, fantasy, and contemporary stories. It's my sincere wish that these books of mine will leave you, my beloved reader, with heartwarming, beautiful memories that'll stay with you long after the last page has been turned. I currently reside in sunny Singapore with my lovely puppy dog, Nicky.Be sure to keep an eye out for my newest books!www.scarsky.com

Book preview

Chapter 1: Fang Drawings

Summer 1840

Howick House

Miss Tabitha Windsor was quite startled when the grandfather clock chimed, breaking the silence in the library. She stretched in a feline manner and closed the book shut, coughing at the puff of dust that rose from the old gold-leafed volume. A hasty glance at the window confirmed that it was twilight, which meant that it was almost time for dinner. Her stomach grumbled in agreement. She was so engrossed in the book about medieval kings she had been reading about that she had lost track of time.

Miss Windsor, a stoic voice came from the entrance.

Tabitha found a very austere Mr. Charles, the butler, scrutinizing her. She hurried to place the book on the correct shelf and turned to him. Yes?

Lady Irene has requested an audience with you, he said. She is most displeased.

Tabitha stopped herself from looking heavenward as she followed him.

Lady Irene was waiting in the blue parlor, which was not a good omen. Tabitha was the governess of Lady Irene’s house, and her employer tended to choose different rooms for various discussions. The Golden parlor meant pleasant news, the Russet parlor indicated guests, and the blue one was where unpleasant talks were held.

Attired in ice blue, Lady Irene seemed to merge with her surroundings. She was considered a raving beauty, gifted with luscious raven hair, piercing green eyes, and an aristocratic profile that befitted a queen.

Lady Irene happened to be fanning herself rapidly.

Oh dear, Tabitha thought.

Please, take a seat, Miss Windsor. Lady Irene’s eyes flashed.

Tabitha took a seat on the ottoman opposite her.

After a few minutes of silence, Lady Irene set down the fan and picked up a piece of paper from the table beside her.

Pray tell me the meaning of this, Miss Windsor.

Tabitha cast a glance at the paper. It was a child’s drawing of a black, hooded man. Everything appeared normal, except for a pair of fangs protruding from between the man’s lips. A hysterical laughter rose up her throat, which she managed to conceal by coughing.

Well? Lady Irene insisted. What is the meaning of this?

My Lady, it seems your son has drawn a man, Tabitha said. May I know what is troubling you?

The teeth! Lady Irene snapped. It is a monster! What have you been teaching him?

Did you ask him about it? Tabitha asked in a mild voice.

"Indeed! He told me they were fangs! Miss Windsor, when I appointed you, nowhere in that discussion did I mention teaching my son to draw monsters!″ spat Irene, her cheeks flushed with anger.

I understand that you are worried about your son, Lady Irene, Tabitha said calmly, but some children tend to draw these things. It is nothing serious.

Well, it is most inappropriate, and I shall not have it! Lady Irene told her.

Tabitha sighed. Of course. I shall talk to your son and explain that it is not appropriate.

Thank you! Lady Irene said and rose from her seat. Now, I shall go and continue working on the guest list.

Of course, Tabitha murmured.

Smoothing her skirt, Lady Irene walked out of the room. Tabitha glanced at the image in her hand again and laughed softly. The likeness was uncanny. She was certain it was her private sketchbook Jason had copied the picture from. It was enough to frighten many people of the ton and the normal world.

Suddenly, Tabitha’s heart began to race. She knew the symptoms well and was quick to grab hold of the ottoman’s hand rest, gripping it until her knuckles were prominent. The room began to spin as she closed her eyes and counted backward from a hundred to keep herself anchored.

100…

99…

The rain was cold on her face. Tabitha bit her lip, shivering in her gown that was drenched and plastered to her skin. She was adamant to witness it. She needed to know the truth, the answer. So, she focused on the two figures standing in the shadowed alley.

Marcel… a sinister voice said.

She strained to hear the words in the downpour.

Leave me. Please, I beg you, let me go! another voice cried, sounding terrified. I do not know. I do not have the information you seek. Please…

80…

I know not what you have concealed from me, vermin, the sinister voice spat, but I do not care. You are here at the wrong time, and it is your blood I need.

W…what? stammered the other man.

75…

There was a shout, a wail, and then silence. Tabitha quivered in the menacing atmosphere that ensued. Tiny sensations invaded her senses. Insects were crawling on her skin. She put her fist against her mouth to stifle her scream and clawed at herself to get rid of the insects. There were so many! Alas, in her carelessness, she stumbled into the barrel behind her, alerting the feeding monster. He looked around, his eyes aglow. Immediately, she picked up her skirts and ran.

60…

He was getting closer…

55…

How could he run so fast? He was a blur!

52…

She stumbled on the corner of her darned skirts and wondered in that panic-filled moment, why did women have to wear such atrociously hindering clothing?

The monster’s growl mingled with the spattering rain. The chapel next to the orphanage was not far from here. Surely, he could not enter the sacred building. She could take shelter there. It was worth an attempt.

40…

But then, her hood fell back. Her long hair escaped from her bun when a large hand caught hold of her locks.

Delicious girl… you will make my night delectable. What fumes of blood you have… so strange…

She could not free herself of him. His breath was putrid behind her. She felt ill when she recognized the scent of fresh blood. His hand brushed her skin…

Curious… You smell different. Will your blood be the same?

30…

The contact sent revulsion and bolts of energy through her body…

…1

″Miss?"

Miss Windsor?

Tabby?!

The voices were distant, but they pulled Tabitha out of her memory. She finally felt the hardwood beneath her hand and forced herself back to the present. When she opened her eyes, two small, pale faces and an old, lined one were staring back at her.

I apologize, she said softly. It appears I have become quite tired. I was merely hungry.

You should not let yourself be hungry, Tabby, Angelica said. Illness is quick to follow an empty belly.

Tabitha knew the girl was referring to another episode she had witnessed a month back. Were they premonitions? Memories? She did not know what to call them, yet she was certain they were increasing in frequency, and that was a troubling notion indeed.

You cheeky little miss. Tabitha smiled wanly.

You must not encourage such talk, Miss Windsor, Mr. Charles said, his tone that of utmost disapproval. Lady Angelica, please use the correct title of address for your governess.

Angelica giggled, eyeing him playfully. Oh, do not be such a bore, Mr. Charles. I, of course, know not to say that in front of all those stiff-faces!

Charles had the gumption to grin a little. At least that was what Tabitha thought the grimace had been. The girl’s description of the general appearance of the ton was amusingly correct.

Let us go to dinner now, children. Your mother must be worried wondering where you have been, Tabitha said.

Summer 1840

Crescent Castle, Northumberland

The sweet air of twilight was a blessing compared to the ruckus inside the castle. Viscount Nathaniel Crescent, a cigar between his lips, was gazing upon the solitary grounds of Northumberland.

Behind him, two turrets of the castle rose in the sky, lights glowing in the growing darkness. The music reverberated in the air, the notes pleasant yet disturbing. His black cloak blew in the wind, fluttering; its resemblance to the wings of bats was uncanny. Some moisture welled in his eyes as multiple dark thoughts ran through his mind, reminiscent of the times when he had been capable of simple human emotions.

A bright, rounded moon glided in the wisps of dark clouds gathering to create a storm. Thunder rolled heavily. The air was rich with the scents of pine, smoke from the kitchens nearby, the aroma of fresh bread, and… blood. The sharp aroma, metallic, pungent, tempting, and even arousing, was something he was quite familiar with.

Nathan was well acquainted with the cloud of misery that appeared to grow around him with every passing year. He had long since felt obsolete, ready to leave the damp rusted grounds of the earth, which bore nothing for him but responsibilities that he wished not to undertake.

Nathan? a mildly drunk voice asked.

Of course, Nathan had sensed his uncle long before the man reached him. He did not turn to face him nor respond, for he knew that face well. His uncle’s ruggedly handsome features, with eyes that were certain to be aglow. He had a voice that could soothe or hypnotize with equal degrees.

Nathan, Uncle Damien repeated.

Nathan merely ignored him as he released the smoke slowly from between his teeth.

I know you are angry, Damien said, but what I ask of you is necessary for the family.

Again, some moments of silence passed as both men were lost in their own myriads of sorrow.

I would not have called for you if there had been other options, Damien said.

Finally, Nathan laughed bitterly. "You did not call for anything. You ordered, Master, as you have always done.″

Damien winced behind him. I told you, you do not have to address me thus. It is only for the young.

The young you have no need to bring into this world, Nathan spat.

I know all about your theory on this. In my defense, I have not done anything wrong. I merely cure those who ail, Damien said, looking a tad impatient.

Nathan did not deign to respond.

This is an order, Nathan, Damien said, sudden steely in his voice. Capture the bloody bastard and bring him to Crescent.

Nathan made a non-committal grunt and continued smoking his cigar. He waited until Damien sighed in annoyance and left him alone before he released his breath.

Finally, he thought to himself. To think he had been released of his blood vows, and yet he had to obey another command. He endeavored to live more sanely, to forget the curse he had awoken into, but every time he began to feel alive, even moderately, his uncle never failed to step in and remind him of the beast he truly was.

Nathan knew the best way to rid himself of Damien was to do what the man wished and then disappear. The trouble was his uncle always seemed to find him. Hopefully, the man would leave him alone in his self-imposed exile this time around.

The blood that bound Nathan to his family could never be extinguished unless his uncle were to die. Now that was a thought; he smirked as he pondered the many possible ways to terminate his annoying uncle. The remnant embers of the cigar sparkled on the grass as he crushed it beneath his feet. But if he were to kill his uncle, his sister would never let him hear the end of it.

He heard more footsteps.

My Lord? a voice asked.

He turned to find his man of affairs, John, standing huddled in his great coat.

How do you do, John? Nathan shook hands with him.

Not so well, my Lord. John grimaced. I admit the weather is mighty chilly, and the…soirée at your uncle’s castle has made me a tad nervous.

I apologize, Nathan said. Did someone terrify you on purpose?

They need not do so on purpose, John said dryly.

John Applegate was used to the eccentricities of the households connected to Nathan, as his father had been the man of affairs for the household until his recent passing.

I shall ask Bertha to prepare a room for you tonight. It is a long way back to London, and I fear a storm might impede your way, Nathan said. But first, what news do you have for me?

My Lord, the man in question is mostly reclusive. Yet, he wishes to attend a soirée soon, John told him.

Interesting, Nathan murmured. And what may be the reason for his sudden interest?

John smiled wryly. A woman, of course.

And who is this woman who can intrigue a man of such power? Nathan asked.

It is the Lady Irene of Howick House, John replied. "She was widowed a year ago. Her beauty is quite renowned amongst the ton.″

And what is her title? Nathan asked.

She is the late Baron’s wife with two children, her son being the heir to the lands and title.

I believe I had seen her some years ago. The Chadwick Ball, perhaps? Nathan wondered aloud.

"Perhaps, my Lord. She had made quite a commotion with her come out. Her father had not been completely honest about his finances, and later she had a torrid affair with Barron Grey and married him. Their affair was the scandal of the season.″

I see, Nathan said. Can we extract an invite from her?

Of course, my Lord. I shall find a connection, John said.

Thank you, John.

Chapter 2: The Trespasser

Chaos raged in the Howick household. Lady Irene Grey was determined to have the soirée of the season, thus tempers were running high. The housekeeper finally broke into exasperated tears.

What is there to be upset about? Lady Irene barked, irritated.

Milady, two maids have already left, and I am short on staff. How shall we manage this? the plump housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson, asked.

My dear woman, weeping will not resolve a thing! Irene told her impatiently. The guests are due to arrive in several hours, and I have no need for a housekeeper incapable of performing her duties.

Mrs. Hudson, why don’t we hire two girls from the village? Tabitha suggested. This problem may appear troublesome, but it is not unsolvable.

I shall not have strangers without references in my household, Irene told them.

My Lady, Tabitha said politely, if you do not mind me saying so, many hire village girls as helping hands when they have an event to organize. Also, I am certain Mrs. Hudson can keep the new ones in the kitchens.

Mrs. Hudson nodded. I will admit that can certainly help some.

Lady Irene shook her head, clearly exasperated. All right. Do as you please.

She walked away, shaking her head and muttering to herself.

I fear the lady will be looking for another housekeeper after the soirée ends, Mrs. Hudson said sadly.

Mrs. Hudson, please do not concern yourself unduly. It is normal for anyone to get upset under pressure, Tabitha reassured her. The storm clouds will pass.

Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Windsor, Mrs. Hudson said. You have been most helpful.

It is my pleasure.

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The soirée appeared to be a success. The children had been put to bed early, and Tabitha was allowed to make an appearance.

I want you to wear these spectacles, Miss Windsor. They belonged to my late mother, Lady Irene said. The spectacles will make you appear more like a governess.

Tabitha was not entirely certain why Irene wanted her to wear the old spectacles. Nonetheless, she acquiesced to the odd request. She had never been to a ball or soirée before. Her curiosity was why she had asked her employer for permission to attend it in the first place.

She wore her best gown, which was a pleasant turquoise and a gift from Irene. It used to belong to her employer at one point but had since been fitted to her size. Three inches of fabric was added to the hem as she was taller than the Lady Irene, yet Tabitha could still see a glimpse of her old slippers. She shrugged. It was a mystery to her as to why Irene wanted her to appear as a governess, especially when her attire and plainness was more than enough of an indication. She tried to style her hair to her best advantage yet failed. Marianna, Irene’s lady’s maid, saw her futile efforts and laughingly helped to arrange her light brown waves into an intricate style.

Oh my, she gasped. Your hair looks so lovely! I hope Lady Irene would not mind!

There is no competition, Marianna, Tabitha said with a laugh. Besides, I will be wearing those dratted spectacles.

It appears she does not want you to seem anything more than a governess, admitted Marianna. It is a tad strange, do you not think so?

Tabitha shrugged. "It is my first soirée, and I am merely