Past Shadows

Part 4: The Death.

Part 4: The Death.

Justin reluctantly stirred, still physically affected by his erotic dreams of a wild red-headed beauty, whose curves fitted perfectly into the hard planes of his body. He forced his heavy eyelids open, in a vain attempt to dislodge Lucy Osborne's image from his subconscious. He still thought of her as Lucy, the girl from his childhood but since her sinful womanly curves collided with his torso two days ago, his feelings were strictly adult. He let his eye lids drift shut again and reminded his libido that she was Mrs Lucinda Osborne and he didn't dally with married woman, no matter how desirable they were.

A distant crash made him throw off the covers and rush to the window. He eyed his erection with regret; perhaps the cold night air would cool his arousal. The crackle of wood and the splinter of exploding glass sounded close by. He snatched open the heavy window drapes and stared at the fiery destruction below. Flame rockets blazed across the dark sky. Smoke and curls of orange fire jutted from the top windows of the mill. Shouts and screams reached him as he opened the sash window. A large crowd of people, hopefully the night workers, clustered at the foot of the hill, away from immediate danger. He pulled his breeches from the chest where he discarded them earlier and snatched a shirt and greatcoat from the wardrobe. Within minutes he exited the house and ran in the direction of the burning mill. "Is everyone out Harris?"

  "Looks like it Mr Justin, we're using water from the mill pond but it's caught hold. I think it's a goner." The overseer said, his gaze flooded with panic.

  Justin's keen gaze scanned the burning building, the fire burned strongest on the top, inaccessible levels. They must let it burn itself out and salvage what they could afterwards. Renewed shouts behind him refocused his attention. His father lay prostrate on the ground surrounded by the terrified workers. Justin ran to him, pushing the hovering crowd aside. He knelt over his father's body. Charles breathed but his glazed over, unfocused eyes wouldn't meet Justin's gaze. Justin sighed. The trauma of the fire brought on another seizure. "Harris you and three of the strongest men carry the Master up to the house and someone run to the village for Doctor Brown if you please." The fire continued its relentless destruction. With a last regretful look at the burning mill, Justin followed on behind. He would deal with the fallout from the fire in the daylight, his father needed him now.

  The windows in the white house blazed with light, rivalling the inferno below. The butler and housekeeper waited at the foot of the main steps accompanied by numerous underlings, never usually seen above stairs. Justin shook his head, he never realised his father employed so many staff; excessive for one man, in his opinion but typical of his father who believed a more equalled better. The butler, who served the family since Justin's youth looked distraught at his master's demise.

The housekeeper took charge and ushered the men who carried the master of the house inside. She dipped a slight curtsy to Justin."Have you summoned Doctor Brown, Mr Justin?"

  "Yes I sent a youth for him before I left." A clatter of hooves and wheels drew their attention, as the Doctor's gig pulled into the driveway at breakneck speed. Justin ushered the housekeeper inside," I'll wait and bring the Doctor, Mrs Hood." The older woman inclined her head and followed swiftly behind the men. Justin ran down the steps and helped the elderly doctor from his gig. "It's my father doctor, another seizure perhaps?" The doctor followed Justin into the house, his expression anxious. The doctor probably feared the loss of a prestigious client. Entering his father's bedchamber Justin stared at the still form in the middle of the snowy white sheets; he drew in a deep breath to dispel the nausea and dizziness of panic, which threatened his composure. If his father died he would be alone in the world, forced to take on the heavy mantle of responsibility the mills represented.  He couldn't forsake his birthright but he'd hoped for a gentler transition.

The doctor placed his bag on the night table and spoke quietly to the prone man lost in the vast bed despite his bulk. Justin stepped closer, fearful as his father shrank before his eyes. The grey tinged pallor of Charles' face alarmed him. The makeshift stretcher bearers stood awkwardly around the bed, shuffling from foot to foot uncertain what he expected of them. Aware of their discomfort, Justin suppressed his shock induced stupor. He squared his shoulders, "thank you for your help Harris and you men, please return to the mill and ensure no-one goes near the fire until it's spent." Harris touched his forehead, mirrored by the others, in respectful acknowledgement and vacated the room. The doctor examined his father with the clinical detachment expected of his profession.

Charles stirred restlessly; his eyes opened and held Justin's gaze."Her fault... Red haired Witch, she did this...Jus...tin you must get her make her pay..." Charles' eyes closed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  "Doctor is he...?"   Justin failed to keep the desperation from his voice.

   "Asleep he's worsened but may recover with rest."The doctor murmured reassuringly, although his tentative smile didn't reach his sombre gaze.

  Justin's sight blurred as he watched his father's laboured breathing. His father thought Lucinda caused the fire. He considered the viability of his father's accusation. He didn't want it to be true but she may know something, her dislike of his father and his mill made her an obvious suspect. Perhaps this was retribution for his father's clumsy pawing of her earlier?  He vowed he would get at the truth, however unpleasant. He owed it to his father. Justin drew a chair up to his father's bedside and rested his head in his large hands. He would send for Mrs Lucinda Osborne, tomorrow. Now, he needed to see if his father survived the night...

  Minutes, or more likely hours later a persistent loud rattle disturbed Justin's fitful sleep. He rubbed his eyes and shifted in the chair, which proved a poor substitute for his bed. A flash of black caught his eye, the doctor leant over his father and shook his head as he met Justin's gaze. He absorbed the regret in the doctor's eyes. The significance of the rattle that disturbed the room's silence registered. The death rattle of his father's struggle to remain in this world, echoed round the otherwise quiet room. Justin's eyes prickled unexpectedly with salty tears he refused to shed. The doctor stood back and patted Justin's rounded shoulders. "The end is close." His father drew a laboured breath which rattled and faded to silence, as the sound of his last breath disappeared with his life. Justin stood and kissed his father's forehead, warm against his cold lips. He met the doctor's gaze the sympathy and regret confirmed his worst fears, he was officially the master of the mills, a responsibility he never expected or desired.

  Justin swayed, stiff from inactivity despite his fitful sleep. He stumbled towards the window, dawn threatened. Sunrise obliterated by the black smoke, which still floated from the mill. The poor light couldn't disguise the damage. The crowd thinner now still stood in groups and stared up at the mill's shell. A glint of red resembled the flames he saw earlier.  It could only belong to her. Had she instigated the fire, which indirectly killed his father?  He would discover the truth. If she bore the guilt, he would make her pay, without mercy. His body hardened as he unwelcome images from their last encounter flooded his mind. Blinded with grief, an unholy plan formulated in his twisted mind; maybe there was a way to ease his physical desire for her luscious body and honour his father's last request.

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 Jane Hunt ©2015/Past Shadows