The Wicked Sister

by Lancaster, Mary

  “Oh, stop it,” Maria interrupted. “You’re fooling no one, so save your breath for something that matters. I know you wrote that pamphlet.”

  “By what evidence?” Judith demanded.

  “The evidence that Michael saw it in this room first. The evidence of your writing style—that you copied from Michael, along with his facts and arguments in most of your work.”

  “You are insulting,” Judith snapped.

  Maria took a breath, trying to rein in her temper and yet spurred on by her urgent need to get Michael out of this. “He is taking the blame for you. Does that mean nothing?”

  Judith shrugged, walking across the room. “It means his lordship, your brother, will get him off and no harm is done.”

  Maria stared at her. “No harm is done? Judith, they could hang him!”

  Judith’s eyes slid away. “He owned to it. Who am I to argue with the man who will be my husband?”

  “You’re afraid,” Maria said more gently. “I understand that. But look, you will be seen as a foolish woman led astray by unscrupulous men. You are unlikely to be convicted, particularly with a few words in the correct ears, which my family would do for you.”

  Judith curled her lip. “Let them do it for Michael.”

  “It isn’t the same thing for him! He will be seen as betraying the trust of my brother, in full understanding of the consequences of this policy you advocate. At best, his career is ruined. At worst, he will die. And he is not guilty. You are.”

  Judith threw up one hand in protest. “Oh, you understand nothing. I must stay free to continue my work, unsuspected. And to that end, I am about to write to Michael ending our betrothal. I cannot marry a traitor.”

  If I had such a man, Maria thought, stunned. If I had Michael, I would die with him. And yet she throws him aside like a worn-out shoe.

  “Your work?” she repeated in disbelief. “You have never had an original thought in your life. You repeat Michael’s arguments, Michael’s facts and figures. You do not even care about the causes you pretend to champion. Your motives are merely glory with the persons you believe beneath you, and envy of those you perceive as above. Everything you have ever said to me, from your comments about ribbons and lace onward, told me your character. And yet I never believed you would leave Michael to face punishment for your crimes!”

  Judith’s face grew mottled with hatred and anger.

  “Don’t you love him at all?” Maria demanded.

  Judith swung away from her. “I do not love where it is not returned.”

  “Not returned?” Maria stared helplessly at the other woman’s back. “He took the blame for you,”

  Judith’s breath exhaled in a shudder. “Make her leave, Gillian. She is upsetting me.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Derby twittered. “Do forgive her, my lady, she has had a terrible shock…”

  “Don’t worry,” Maria said contemptuously, sweeping toward the door. “I’m leaving. I have much to do. Good day.”

  *

  Maria’s first thought was to race back to the castle and whip Gervaise into action. Together with Torridon, surely, they would be able to force Betts to release Michael, though whether they could make the charges against him disappear so easily, she doubted. Gideon’s story had to be discredited, which must, surely, be easy, for the gallery had taken possession of Michael’s parcel, and she and her sisters had all seen him enter the coffee house carrying nothing.

  But still… On impulse, she instructed John Coachman to take her to Colonel Fredericks’s house.

  Colonel Fredericks, once the commanding officer of the 44th, was a deceptively mild and bluff old fellow, who nevertheless seemed well versed in whatever nefarious doings in Blackhaven affected the country’s security. He had been there when French spies had infiltrated the smugglers that had once had something to do with Lady Wickenden, although Maria wasn’t quite sure what. And he had been there when another French spy had kidnapped Serena. Maria was sure he knew more about Tamar’s mysterious sister, Lady Anna, than anyone else. And he quite definitely had influence with his successor, Colonel Gordon.

  The door opened as she walked up the path, and Colonel Fredericks came out and halted in surprise. “Why…Lady Maria, is it not? How unexpected.” He peered around her. “Is your mama not with you?”

  “No, she isn’t, I’m afraid. I’m sorry Colonel, you are dressed to go out, but I wonder if I might have just five minutes of your time first? It is important.”

  “Of course, come in,” the colonel said jovially. “Mrs. Lavery!” he called down the hall as he closed the door. “Tea for my guest!”

  Although Maria civilly refused the tea, it came anyway while Maria was in full flood, explaining everything to the colonel from Gideon’s extortion to Michael’s arrest.

  “Concisely related,” Colonel Fredericks approved when she had finished. He regarded her, frowning, but, she suspected, not really seeing her but his own speculations.

  At last he rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Very glad you came, Lady Maria! You had best be off home now. I hope you mean to tell his lordship what you have just told me?”

  Maria rose, slightly bewildered and nodded. “Yes, I will, but, Colonel, what do you mean to do?”

  Colonel Fredericks smiled. “I’m going to have Heath’s rooms searched.”

  Maria laughed with delight and surprised him by kissing him on the cheek. “Bless you, Colonel!” she said, and swept out of the house with much more hope than she’d entered it.

  *

  Inevitably, Maria returned to upset in the castle. Mr. Betts had again arrived before her, spilling his venomous nonsense in Gervaise’s ears and demanding access to Michael’s chamber, property, and documents. With her stomach churning, Maria could hear Betts shouting as she made her way upstairs to the gallery and from there to the library.

  “Mr. Betts, I don’t believe a word of this rigmarole,” Gervaise was saying calmly as she walked in. “I am well aware of Mr. Hanson’s radical views, virtually on the eve of a decisive battle with our greatest enemy!”

  “Then, with respect, my lord, more fool you!” Betts retorted. “For he admitted it, as your sister will testify.”

  Gervaise swung on her in surprise. “Maria? You were there?”

  “I went to call on Miss Warren,” she said, peeling off her gloves, “and discovered Mr. Betts trying to arrest Mr. Hanson. And yes, he did admit it, but he was clearly covering for someone else.”

  “Clearly,” Betts said in disgust. “My lady, your innocence does you credit, but in this case, it amounts to gullibility!”

  “If you had troubled to speak to more witnesses,” Maria pointed out, “you would already know that Mr. Hanson’s parcel was left at the gallery and that he entered the coffee shop with nothing but the clothes he stood up in. It is you who has been gulled by Lieutenant Heath. I don’t hold that against you—I was once in the same position—but trust me, it is not enough to arrest any man on the strength of his word. Before you leave, speak to my sisters. Then speak to the gallery owner and the coffee house waiters. They will tell you who else sat at that table.”

  Serena and Frances were duly sent for, and while Betts interrogated them, Gervaise hauled Maria to the other side of the library.

  “You have my undivided attention,” he said grimly. “Speak. And you must tell me everything, Maria. Everything!”

  And so, finally, she told Gervaise all, including how she had fallen in and out of love with Gideon so quickly last year and how her foolish agreement to elope with him had led to his extorting money from her, how Michael had helped her and suspected some connection between Betts’s inquiries and Gideon’s activities. She even told him how she had searched Gayle’s bedchamber and discovered there many copies of the pamphlets in question, and how Michael had gone to the coffee house to confirm their suspicions.

  “I suspected Miss Warren was the author,” she finished. “And I’m sure Michael thought so, too. He wouldn’t have tak
en the blame for anyone else.”

  Gervaise had been staring at her with increasing agitation as the story progressed, though he did not interrupt. Now he sank into the nearest chair at what had come to be Michael’s desk. “I don’t know what to say, where to begin.”

  Maria sat opposite him, clasping her hands in her lap. Her thumbnail found the sore on her hand, and she had to force it away.

  Gervaise said, “I am ashamed I did not know any of this, that you did not come to me.”

  At once, she flung out her hand, touching his on the table, “No, no, the shame was mine! And I wanted to get out of my own scrapes! Though it seems there was always someone there to help me. I…” She swallowed. “I spent a lot of time trying to be like Frances and Serena. Oh, I know they were always up to mischief, too—still are, I imagine!—but I tried to want their kind of success and happiness, and the truth is, I don’t, and I end by behaving badly. I have different interests, or perhaps different priorities, and I suppose I did not want you or Mama to know and…and dislike me.”

  His hand moved under hers, squeezing her fingers. “Dislike you?” he said helplessly. “Maria, there could never be a question of that! You are my sister, my sweetest of sisters, if the truth be known. Your scrapes have always stemmed from that good nature. Mama might rant occasionally, but she and I have only ever wanted to keep you safe. All of you.”

  Maria blinked back the sudden tears and squeezed his hand in return before releasing it. “Thank you,” she whispered. She cleared her throat and gave a watery smile. “Then you believe me about Michael? And Gayle and Gideon?”

  “Of course, I do. And for what it’s worth, I believe in Hanson’s integrity, too.” He stood up decisively. “I need to speak to him. And I’ll ask Torridon to go up to the barracks with Betts and set Colonel Gordon on to this lieutenant of yours.”

  “Um…Colonel Fredericks is already there. I called on him on the way home.”

  Gervaise blinked. A smile flickered across his lips. “You never cease to surprise me. Tell me, if I let Betts rummage through Hanson’s possessions, do you think he would find anything incriminating?”

  Maria considered. “Not incriminating. But with a man of Mr. Betts’s black and white view of the world, they might well further convince him of Mr. Han­son’s…malev­olence.”

  “Then we should be grateful he has no vote in Blackhaven.”

  “What do you mean?” Maria asked, bewildered.

  “I mean Mr. Beddingfield has died suddenly and there will be a bi-election. I’m trying to persuade Hanson to stand.”

  “But that would be wonderful!” Maria exclaimed, jumping to her feet with enthusiasm. “Surely it is what he wants?”

  “He would prefer to stand on his own feet. He’ll always feel he was elected because of me.” He turned as Betts approached, looking both dissatisfied and disoriented. “Well? Have my sisters convinced you of Mr. Hanson’s innocence?”

  “I would be happier if the witnesses weren’t of this household,” Mr. Betts said bluntly. “But what their ladyships say certainly justifies further investigation.”

  Gervaise scowled at this, but Maria said peaceably, “Good.”

  “Callers,” Serena announced from the library window. “I suppose we should go down to Mama. Do you think we should tell her—Oh, look, it’s Colonel Fredericks!”

  Gervaise strode to the door, throwing over his shoulder, “Mr. Betts, I’d be grateful if you would stay a little longer.” He opened the library door and issued an order to the footman in the gallery to have the colonel shown into the library.

  When the colonel entered, looking surprisingly spry for his years, everyone gathered around him like bees to a honey pot. He didn’t keep them waiting.

  “Lieutenant Heath is in custody. Several questionable—I would say treasonous—documents were found in his possession. Colonel Gordon is turning the barracks upside down to find out how far this goes, but it seems certain Heath was the moving force in the 44th. There will be inquires at all regiments now, and word sent to Wellington to nip it in the bud before any trouble breaks out among the troops already there.”

  He looked around him and walked distractedly toward Maria. Sitting beside her, he dropped a packet into her lap. She recognized her own writing across the front.

  “Found these, too,” he murmured. “I believe you’ll know what to do with them.”

  It was the letters she had once so foolishly written to Gideon.

  She swallowed, the blood rushing into her face. “I do,” she said hoarsely.

  As though satisfied, he lifted his gaze to Gervaise. “I wonder if I might have a word with Mr. Gayle?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gideon Heath’s world had started to crumble from the moment he heard one innocuous tap on his door. He had been sitting alone with a glass of brandy, grinning at his own cleverness at having turned the tables so spectacularly on the nobody. Betts, who clearly disliked the secretary nearly as much as he, had been like putty in his hands.

  And life was looking up. If he ever made it to Brussels, there would be no fighting. He would retire on half-pay and make fresh plans to marry Maria—or perhaps some other heiress. He was torn on that score, for although there was something about Maria that still compelled him to possess her, he had the feeling some other heiress might give him less trouble. Which was one reason he had made no effort to engage new henchmen, when his old ones had failed to turn up in the tavern the day after they had failed so signally to abduct Maria.

  Meanwhile, with any luck, there would be such an outcry that the nobody was hanged.

  All in all, he deserved his celebratory brandy. He gave a long, self-satisfied sigh. And then came the unthreatening knock on his door, to reveal Colonel Gordon and old Colonel Fredericks.

  Gideon jumped to his feet, sloshing his brandy over his smart uniform. And from there, everything had gone downhill, as his rooms were all but torn apart and several copies of two different pamphlets discovered. To say nothing of his packet of letters from Maria last year.

  Taken into Blackhaven in a small, closed carriage, he was escorted into the town hall by a back entrance. For a moment, his heart lifted as he saw the nobody sitting in the corner of one of the cells, reading a letter. Perhaps this was all misunderstanding and Gideon was merely a witness.

  But a jailer held open the door of the cell next to Hanson’s, and he could only walk into it. The turning of the key echoed ominously around the prison, bouncing off the walls and the large, empty cell opposite.

  Through the bars that divided them, Gideon met Hanson’s gaze. Perhaps it was the spectacles, but he could not read the expression in the other man’s eyes.

  Gideon sneered, nodding at the letter in Hanson’s fingers. “Encouraging letter? From your employer, perhaps, promising to defend you? Or dispensing with your services?”

  Hanson crushed the letter and stuffed it inside his coat. “No.”

  Gideon waited for more, but the secretary said nothing, and the silence drew out, curiously frightening. If Hanson could hang, so could he.

  “Lady Maria will speak for me,” he said aloud at last, and he couldn’t help the shaking of his voice. “She will involve her brother.”

  And then, at last, Hanson lips twitched into a smile. He laughed. “You are entirely delusional.”

  After that, Gideon could neither goad nor persuade Hanson into conversation.

  It seemed like hours later when they brought Gayle in and put him in the large cell opposite. Sensibly, the man looked at neither of them. The jailer locked him in, then walked over to Gideon’s side of the room, selecting another key. Gideon’s heart lifted with relief.

  But the man slid the key into the lock of Hanson’s cell and opened it wide. “You’re free to go. But Mr. Betts would like a word first.”

  The nobody rose and walked out with a dignity Gideon could only dream of. In silence, he followed the jailer across the room and upstairs.

  Gideon’s fingers cl
osed around the bars of his cell door. He stared at Gayle, who still would not look at him. “You have to get me out of this! Tell them it was not me! Tell them!”

  Gayle curled his lip and turned away from him.

  *

  It was dark before Michael returned to the castle in the carriage Gervais had sent for him hours ago. Maria saw his arrival from the drawing room window, for they were already gathered there before dinner. He did not look up but thanked the coachman and ran up the steps out of her view.

  Trying to calm her scurrying heart, she said mildly, “Mr. Hanson is back. I suppose he will change before he joins us.”

  “We’ll wait for him,” Eleanor pronounced. “The man deserves a decent dinner after what he has been through today.”

  From the delighted cries and laughter outside the drawing room, Alice and Helen got to him first.

  “He will have to shut his door in their faces,” Serena observed. “Mama, we had better let them dine with us tonight. They are very fond of Mr. Hanson, and we have no visitors.”

  It was true. Lord Underwood and Mrs. Gayle had removed themselves, for courtesy’s sake, as soon as they heard of Gayle’s arrest. Their shock had been clear to all, and Underwood’s apology to his hosts sincere and abject.

  Maria’s mother frowned. “It is all nosiness with them! But I will not keep my children from the table. It is up to Eleanor, of course. But they have already eaten.”

  “Trust me, that will not trouble them,” Maria said wryly, and Serena laughed.

  “Let’s have them in,” Eleanor said. “I’d be happy to bring the babies, too, but I think that might prove too chaotic!”

  The girls, delighted by this treat, spilled into the drawing room, at once the center of attention, for which Maria was selfishly grateful. She had told them all about the day’s occurrences, and, apart from resentment at being left out of the morning’s events at the coffee house, they were entirely supportive of Maria and Michael’s actions. They even initiated three cheers for Michael as soon as he walked into the drawing room.

  Taken by surprise as everyone joined in, Michael blushed endearingly. He seemed slightly bewildered by the wholehearted support, which Eleanor, bless her, made official by taking his arm to go immediately into dinner.