Lord Deverill's Heir

by Catherine Coulter

  The barnyard was bustling with early-morning activity as the Earl of Strafford, dressed only in breeches and open, rumpled white linen shirt, made his way with single purpose to the barn. Stable hands were busily forking clumps of fresh hay into the wide wooden bins, while the farm hands led out the fat, sleek cattle to pasture. His presence in the doorway called an abrupt, uncomfortable halt to all talk. Even the head stable lad, Corey, said not a word.

  He did not even notice that he was being eyed with nervous skepticism. He slipped inside the barn and saw immediately the small spindly ladder just to the left of the door. He set his foot upon the first rung. He wasn’t even aware that the ladder creaked beneath his weight. He climbed swiftly to the top, and stepped carefully onto the narrow ledge that wound around to the far corner of the loft. He came presently to a tiny closed-off area, almost a small room, that looked out over the rolling hills behind the north pasture. It was a private place, a place for thinking private thoughts, a place for dreaming. Arabella came here when she wanted to be alone. He breathed in deeply. Yes, he could feel her here, but it was only the shadow of her, none of her intensity, none of what made her unique. This was where she had been when he’d believed she had betrayed him with Gervaise. He hated the ironies of Fate at that moment. If only he had never seen her, if only . . .

  He stood silently for a moment longer. He could faintly hear the sounds of the cows and the racket of the stable hands.

  Slowly he made his way back down the ladder and out of the barn. He looked bleakly at the giant gnarled oak tree where he had stood so long ago, witness to what he had been certain was Arabella’s betrayal. He felt again his anger, his bitterness, and the overwhelming emptiness. He saw Arabella on their wedding night, her face alight with anticipation until she had recognized his rage, until he had forced her, humiliated her.

  He turned slowly and walked back to Evesham Abbey. He heard conversation from the Velvet Room and paused a moment. There were Lord Graybourn and Elsbeth. He was sitting next to her on the settee, holding her hand. He was speaking quietly to her and she was nodding.

  Lord Graybourn took in the earl’s disheveled appearance and the suffering in his eyes as he rose hurriedly from his seat beside Elsbeth. “Do forgive my intrusion, my lord. I had thought to stay with Lady Elsbeth for a brief while—to lighten her anxiety.” The earl did not have to force a smile. He was delighted the man was here. He was a good man, one who was caring. “You are very welcome, sir.

  I think it kind of you to take Elsbeth’s mind off her sister.” He turned as he spoke and gazed at Elsbeth with new vision, the vision Lady Ann had given him. She was right—there was none of the child left. There was a contained young woman seated on that settee, looking calmly at him. He wondered if he would miss the innocence of her, the childish gaiety she had displayed on occasion. If so, it was a pity, but life had a way of balancing the scales. Only time would tell. And perhaps Lord Graybourn.

  He crossed to her and took her hands in his. “Arabella is sleeping soundly. She is made of stern stuff, you know, Elsbeth. She will come around.”

  She nodded, only a moment of pained dullness showing on her face. She said calmly, “Did you know that Dr. Branyon is upstairs with Arabella and Lady Ann?”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “He stepped in to tell me that Gervaise had died. Dr. Branyon said there hadn’t been much hope, that he had lost too much blood.”

  “It is over then.” The earl felt a moment of sadness for the waste of a young man’s life. Greed was the very devil.

  “Yes, it is over. I am sorry that he is dead, but perhaps he deserved to die for shooting Arabella.”

  “The shot was aimed for me, Elsbeth. Arabella saved my life.”

  “Elsbeth,” Lord Graybourn said, moving swiftly to seat himself beside her. “I don’t wish you to tire yourself. Should you care for some more tea, perhaps?”

  The earl did not wait to hear Elsbeth’s reply. Gervaise had died. He couldn’t find another moment of pain, not really. the man had nearly destroyed their lives. He quickly strode from the Velvet Room and back to the earl’s bedchamber.

  “Ah, Justin, you are here.” Paul Branyon straightened beside Arabella.

  “She has no fever. She is breathing slowly and smoothly. If there continues to be no fever, she will recover quickly.” The earl sagged where he stood. “I was scared to death. For the first time though, I believe you.”

  “Good. Oh, incidentally, Gervaise is dead.”

  “Yes, Elsbeth told me.”

  “There is something else.” Dr. Branyon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the emerald necklace. “I removed these from the comte’s jacket pocket.” He tossed them to Justin, who just stood looking down at them overflowing the palm of his hand.

  “Bloody damned things,” he said. “If only I had said something sooner, perhaps it would have made the difference, but I didn’t tell Gervaise the truth. No, I strung him along, mocked him, and look what happened.”

  “What truth, Justin?” Lady Ann asked. “What are you talking about?” Before the earl could answer, there was a gentle, almost childlike moan from Arabella.

  “She never got the fever,” Dr. Branyon said with a good deal of satisfaction. He wasn’t about to tell her that he also was so relieved he’d sworn good deeds for the remainder of his days. “Yes, it is just as I told you, Ann, she has the constitution of a horse.” He had just changed the bandage, nodded his approval, and straightened to wash his hands in the basin that the earl held out for him.

  “A horse, you say, sir? You don’t even allow me to be a mare? A pretty filly?”

  “Not you, Bella, and be grateful for it. Now, of course, don’t mistake.

  It was I who brought you through it, not all by myself, for Justin was here occasionally, wringing his hands, and your mother sometimes stuck her head in and asked me how you were.” Arabella actually managed to laugh. “You are too outrageous to be my step-papa,” she said, and took Justin’s hand. She pulled him down to sit beside her on the bed. “Did you really just visit me occasionally? Did you really wring your hands? Just a bit?”

  “At least once a day for a good five minutes,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her mouth. “The same with the hand wringing.” She raised her hand to touch his face, remembered that her mother and soon-to-be stepfather were standing just beyond Justin, and let her hand drop back to the cover. “It’s good to be alive. Thank all of you very much. How is Elsbeth?”

  “She is doing very well now that she is convinced you’re on the mend,” Lady Ann said. “Don’t worry about her, Arabella. Everything that should have been said to her has been and anything that didn’t have to be said, wasn’t.”

  The earl whistled. “That was very convoluted, Ann. It says a great deal for my intelligence that I gleaned your meaning.”

  “I’m relieved,” Arabella said. In the next minute, she was asleep.

  “So relieved,” the earl said, “that she dropped off to sleep on us.”

  “Justin, really. You are being quite ridiculous. I am certainly strong enough to walk across the bedroom.” Arabella’s protest didn’t appear to have any result at all. He just grinned down at her and kept walking to the comfortable settee that he had moved to beside the window. It was a sunny afternoon, thank the beneficent God.

  “There, madam,” he said, gently easing her down. He plumped her pillow.

  He drew a light afghan over her legs to her waist. She was wearing a seductive peach silk peignoir that he had very carefully eased her into.

  She had no idea how it made her look. He took a very deep steadying breath and said, “Did I tell you yet today that you are incredibly beautiful?”

  “Yes, this morning, first thing when I opened my eyes. But I thought you were overdoing it. As I recall, my hair was falling across my face.”

  “Did I tell you that you are more precious to me than my gun collection?”

  “Not yet. However, I do not want you to
feel coerced. If you don’t wish to say that just yet, I will understand. Perhaps you should work up to that, my lord, for it is a big step.”

  “All right then,” he said as he pulled a chair up next to her and sat down. “I will take your advice and not rush things.” He leaned forward then, kissed her, lightly ran his fingertips over her nose, her cheeks, the line of her jaw. “If you are truly worthy, I will even wash your hair for you.”

  He saw the excitement in her gray eyes. Her hair was on the edge, a thick braid laying limp over her shoulder. “I should like that more than anything. Tell me how to be worthy enough.” That was a kick right to his groin. “Ah, I cannot have that expectation of you just yet. Like my gun collection, it must wait a while.” She didn’t understand and he hadn’t really expected her to. He gave her a shameless grin and patted her cheek. “All right, perhaps this evening.

  No, don’t argue. I want you to rest here for a good long time, then we will dine together. If you still look as kissable tonight as you do right now, I will allow you to have your way.” She smiled at him, very possibly the most beautiful smile he had ever been granted in his life. He drew a deep breath, kissed her again and once more, then straightened at the sound of a throat clearing in the doorway.

  “Ah, Paul, you are here to annoy us?”

  Arabella tried to pull the afghan higher. The pain from the simple movement made her wince.

  The earl gently raised her hand and laid it beside her again. “I told you I expect you to rest. Any strain on your shoulder isn’t on the list. Obey me, Arabella, or I will let Paul do something vile to you.”

  “At least you have finally allowed me a nightgown.”

  “I didn’t particularly want to,” the earl said, kissing her yet again,

  “but Paul insisted. He told me that he didn’t want me distracted in that manner, not for another good two weeks.”

  “Did I really say that?” Dr. Branyon said, coming to them. “My dear,” he said, and immediately laid his palm on her forehead. Then he leaned down to listen to her heart. Finally, he lifted her wrist. “Ah,” he said finally. “I am such a good physician that I have even surprised myself.

  It’s been only a week and just look at you, Bella. Looking beautiful and soft as butter. Here’s your even more beautiful mother. Ann, come here and treat your daughter to your presence.” Arabella laughed. Another laugh, the earl thought, so pleased he wanted to shout with it.

  Dr. Branyon briefly examined her shoulder, then straightened again, nodding. “Excellent, just excellent.”

  Lady Ann patted her daughter’s hand. “I would have brought Elsbeth with me, but she is riding with Lord Graybourn. Naturally he is no longer staying at Talgarth Hall. That would be pushing Aurelia’s good nature far too far. No, he is currently residing at The Traitor’s Crown, in the very best room Mrs. Current could manage. Now, my darling, tell me. Have these two gentlemen been provoking you?”

  “Oh no, Mama, even Dr. Branyon hasn’t prodded me too much. As for my lord here, why, he has promised to wash my hair for me tonight.”

  “That’s true,” the earl said, “but only if she obeys me. In all things.” Lady Ann blinked at this, then chuckled. “This besotted peace between the two of you is beginning to alarm me. It isn’t natural somehow. Arabella, please regain your strength soon. I want you to stand toe to toe to Justin again. I want to hear the two of you yelling at each other.”

  “Never,” said the earl.

  “Oh no, Mama,” said Arabella. “He is a saint. He is perfect.” Lady Ann began counting off fingers.

  “What are you doing, Mama?”

  “I am deciding how many days from now my wish will be granted. I even will make a wager on it. I think eight days and then the two of you will be ready for a good shouting match. I do look forward to it. It will be time to make Evesham Abbey a home again.”

  “That is one way of looking at things,” the earl said.

  “Eight days, Mama? That’s all you give us?”

  “It just might be sufficient,” the earl said, and clasped her fingers.

  “I just remembered something,” Dr. Branyon said suddenly to the earl.

  “Justin, you were on the point of telling Ann and me something when Arabella woke. What was that? Yes, I know it was five days ago. Do you remember if it was important? I remember you said something about if only you hadn’t strung the comte along, then perhaps things would have happened differently.”

  The earl released Arabella’s fingers. “I had completely forgotten about them. Just a moment, please.” He rose and walked to the small desk that was in the far corner of the huge bedchamber. He came back carrying the emerald and diamond necklace. The green stones glittered in the bright sunlight.

  “The necklace?” Arabella said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “That night when we faced down Gervaise I was holding out the emeralds in my hand, taunting him with them. Then I tossed them to him as if they meant nothing at all. Well, the truth is that the emeralds are worthless.

  They’re paste, as are the diamonds. That is what I should have told him.

  If he had known that, perhaps he wouldn’t have chosen the path he did.”

  “Actually,” Arabella said after a moment, “I don’t think it would have made much difference. I think it would have served only to enrage him all the more, that is, if he had even believed you.”

  “You’re right,” the earl said after a moment, his gray eyes brilliant.

  “He wouldn’t have believed me, not for an instant. Had I been here I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

  “Paste,” Lady Ann said. She took the emeralds from him and held them up in the sunlight. “Paste. All this misery over a paste necklace of next to no value at all. Obviously Magdalaine’s parents knew they were paste when they gave them to her to bring back to your father, Arabella. Remember, they were supposedly part of her dowry? And they gave their daughter a worthless necklace to give to her husband. Surely they couldn’t have believed the late earl wouldn’t have noticed. Ah, but the violence was escalating in France.” Lady Ann shook her head as she stared at the emeralds. “Paste. It boggles the mind.”

  “And that damned necklace has stayed snug in the Dance of Death panel all these years,” Dr. Branyon said. “Waiting to be found. I wish the damned thing had never existed in the first place.” Suddenly a tear rolled down Arabella’s cheek. “Don’t, love,” the earl said, and gently drew her into his arms. “Don’t cry. Will you trust me?” She nodded, gulping back the tears, but still they fell, one after the other.

  “Good, I want all of you to hear this. You know that I searched Gervaise’s room that afternoon of the Talgarth ball. I found a letter to Gervaise from his uncle, Thomas de Trécassis, Magdalaine’s brother.

  Obviously he had no idea that the necklace was worthless. It was in that letter that I learned exactly where the necklace was. But that’s not what’s really important. What’s really important is another letter, one that fell out of Arabella’s slipper when I was undressing her after she’d been shot.”

  “No, Justin, no.”

  “Please, trust me. There’s nothing for you to fear. Trust me.” She didn’t want to, but he was holding her hand, he was looking at her intently, willing her to believe in him. Finally, she nodded.

  “Paul,” the earl said, “please read this letter. It is from Magdalaine to her lover, Charles, the skeleton Arabella found in the old abbey ruins.” Dr. Branyon took the creased and yellowed piece of foolscap. He smoothed it out as best he could. He walked to the window so that the sunlight poured in on it. He was silent for a goodly amount of time, sometimes frowning, sometimes puzzling over words he couldn’t make out. Finally, he raised his head. “This is incredible, really incredible. Bella, my dear, you have been terrified to tell anyone of what you had found?”

  “He was my father. I loved him. I told Justin because I thought I might die. But this paints him as a vicious murderer. Please, promise me th
at it will not go beyond this room.”

  “It won’t,” the earl said. “But it is time, Arabella, for us all to know the truth. Paul, can you tell us?”

  “Yes, I can see that it is time. Magdalaine returned from France only to fetch Elsbeth. Then she and her lover would have probably fled to the Colonies. She must have brought the emerald necklace with her.

  “Your father must have caught them. His wife had betrayed him, had stolen their child, and was fleeing with her lover. He would have been enraged.

  Yes, it would appear likely that he did shoot this Charles. But there is no dishonor in that.

  “But listen to me, Bella, your father did not murder Magdalaine. She killed herself. I was here. I was with her all during her final hours. I won’t lie to you and tell you that your father loved her and was devastated that she had tried to leave him, for at the end he didn’t. She had betrayed him. He did not kill Magdalaine, although from reading this letter I can imagine how you drew such a conclusion. No, she killed herself. I swear it to you. She must have hidden the emeralds and written their hiding place to her brother before your father knew her intentions.

  She believed they would be her birthright to her son, Gervaise.” He paused, then drew a deep breath. “No, he bore no love for her but he did not kill her.”

  Her tears stopped, though she still didn’t look up. Justin saw the flash of pain in her eyes and knew her shoulder was hurting her. He said nothing. He would let her gain her own control.

  She said then, “I have had this incredible burden of doubt and uncertainty lifted from my heart. All along you knew, sir, yet it never occurred to me to ask you.”

  “Had you asked, Bella, I am not certain I would have told you the truth.

  It was a long time ago. She was my patient. But now, to clear all this mystery away, well, I am certain she wouldn’t have minded.” Lady Ann said, “But how did you know, Justin? No, don’t try to deny it.

  Never would you have taken such a chance without knowing the answer first. Tell us, how could you be so certain that the earl did not kill her?”