Page 18 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
My son, please don’t mistake my concern for ignorance of what it is to be a youth in His Regent’s England. You forget that I, too, was young once. Yea, it was a more prudent time, but I enjoyed the fruits of spring as much as any other fellow. However, I knew when it was time to end my revelry and take life by the reins.
My love to you, dear boy. You are the light of my soul in this world. I beg to remain
Your Humble Father
Letter from Lord Peter Lytton to his father, Duke of Briarmere
Dearest Father,
Hilly ho! Your letter received with great joy, as I am indeed most proud to share blood with so great a man as Uncle Henry. When the two of you return, we shall the three of us share a pint of ale together.
Yes, Father, I said ale. It is the drink of people, of men, and I enjoy the public house as if it were my second home. But I am not the heir to the Pheasant’s Brood Inn. I am heir to the House of Lytton, and to the title of Briarmere, and I shall embrace both when the time comes. But as much as I look forward to that day, I must also engender my love of everything life has to offer a man of my age and urbanity. There is a great deal of women, Father, and they are all amazing creatures – delicate, fine, rough, daft, smart, sharp – every trait one can ascribe to one of God’s creatures. They await me, Father. How can I resist?
I had just received a vision of you, Father. Yes, I see you now, clutching this letter as if it were my throat. Admit it, Father, I have prognosticated with the adeptness of a sorcerer, have I not?
Do not despair, my liege, my blood, you will have your heir intact. Your House will endure. But I must be allowed to choose my bride in my own time. She will not be some harridan with torn stockings and a face like a warship mast. However, I warn you, she may very well be a bluestocking maiden whose interests are my own. Whoever she be, Father, I assure you she will fill the place I have prepared for her in my heart.
This I declare as
Your most loving son and chief admirer,
Peter
Chapter 12
On her second night in her attic prison, Lady Madeline was drifting off to sleep when the spears of light that shone through her tiny window grew in intensity. What had begun as the soft blue of moonlight became lustrous shafts of gold, striated with blackness in between. These colours then swirled, and the golden colour dulled to yellow, then settled into soft orange.
She watched the light with dispassionate interest as it began to swirl and waver back and forth. Gradually, the light and shadow began to lose its formless and took shape before her. As the lines came into definition, a spark of fear ignited in her heart as she beheld the image of a tiger before her.
It was a majestic beast with eyes of lustful hunger. It stood erect, every ropey bit of muscle standing out in stark definition within the sheen of its thick fur.
Strangely, although she felt the fear in her, it was not fear for her life. Rather, her fear was due to her comprehension of the sheer power the beast held in its massive body.
Her fear was no less great when the beast spoke to her, not with its mouth, but with its mind.
“Madeline, my love,” it said.
Her heart nearly burst within her as she recognised the voice of Lord Oliver.
She spoke his name, barely above a whisper, for she feared to wake her captors.
“It is I,” he said.
“But ... how ...?”
“You are beholding my true form, the form I reveal only to those whom I adore above all. You are the only one, my beloved.”
She felt the hotness of tears on her face. It couldn’t be, and yet it was.
“I am here to take you away,” he said. “Get on my back.”
She rose, fear and apprehension holding her to the cot.
“Fear not,” he said, chuffing out breath that rose in a ghost of steam above its head.
She rose, overwhelming joy and gratitude within her, and she mounted the beast’s back. It padded towards the door, which opened on its own. To her surprise, it had contained a meadow behind it. The sun was playing through the mats of heather, and gillyflowers trembled in the soft breeze all around her.
“Where are we going?” she said.
