A resigned humph escaped the woman. “I’d best put a mat down.”
“The intention is for them to remain in that big chair by the table in the hall, unless they are needed.”
The housekeeper’s belligerence returned. “They? How many of ’em, sir, if I may make so bold as to ask?”
“Only one at a time, Mrs Tuffin. I told them to take two hour turns.”
It was plain this intelligence did nothing to reconcile the housekeeper to the invasion. She muttered something about an army of clumping feet and having to clean up after it.
“I’m sorry to discommode you in this way, Mrs Tuffin, but the men won’t be here at night.”
“I should think not indeed. The very idea!”
Edith cut in again. “The young Eddows boy will be here instead, Mrs Tuffin, in one of the spare bedchambers.” She added, as the housekeeper’s mouth opened with a ready protest, “You need not fear you must make up the bed, however, for his lordship wishes him to remain awake.”
“He’ll do that right enough if he’s not between sheets,” said Mrs Tuffin sourly. “Likely he’ll freeze. I’d best give him one of the old quilts.”
Edith glanced at Niall, wondering if this squared with his desire to make poor Peter uncomfortable, but he was looking bland enough. He gave a slight bow.
“Whatever you wish, Mrs Tuffin. I am in your hands.”
The housekeeper sniffed. “Well, my lord, I don’t mean to be disobliging, and if it’s to keep Miss Ede from that nasty creature, it’ll be worth a trifle of inconvenience when all’s said.”
“Thank you, Mrs Tuffin. I was persuaded I might rely upon you.”
The obsequious note set Edith’s lips twitching, but the housekeeper’s ruffled feathers smoothed over. She regarded Niall with a measure of approval.
“And a good thing Miss Ede has your lordship to think for her.” She gave a decisive nod and turned her attention to the coffee pot, bustling over to the tray. “I’ll bring a fresh pot, Miss Ede. You’ll take a cup, my lord, I’m sure.” With which, she hefted the tray and left the parlour, ignoring both Niall’s words of thanks and Edith’s choke of laughter.
“I have never seen you outgunned before, my lord Hetherington.”
He grinned. “I was utterly routed. I can now understand why the lads were reluctant when I proposed the scheme.”
Smiling, Edith made herself comfortable on the chaise longue again. “She is such a cosy woman as a rule, one is apt to forget how formidable she can be.”
“Formidable indeed. It would not surprise me to hear she’d driven off Kilshaw with a broomstick.”
Though she doubted her Nemesis could be driven off by anything less than the sword’s point, Edith dutifully laughed.
The coffee arrived in short order, but without the usual pastries, Mrs Tuffin stating that she’d no time for fripperies if she was to find a suitable mat for that lout Jonny’s feet since he’d already installed himself in the hall.
Since the door was open, the peremptory warning she issued was perfectly audible in the parlour, along with the unfortunate youth’s meek response.
Reflecting that the episode had ruined any hope of a continuing tête-á-tête, Edith was less disappointed than she might have been when Niall finished his coffee and rose to leave.
“I really must go if I’m to find young Eddows and let the other lads know they will not be required for the night.”
“Of course.” She summoned a smile and held out her hand. “Thank you. Mrs Tuffin was right. I don’t know what we should do without you.”
He surprised her by taking the hand and dropping a light kiss on her fingers before releasing it. “I’ll call tomorrow if I may.”
“You are welcome at any time.”
His eyes scanned her face. “Is that true?”
She felt warmth rise to her cheeks. “Of course.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek, but he made no further reference to the matter. “Take care of yourself. And don’t fret!”
“I won’t. I have the intention of distracting myself with some copying for my uncle. He needs a passage written out for his sermon on Sunday.”
He nodded, and with a quick word of farewell, he left her.
Edith heard his voice in the hall, having a brief word with his man there, and then the front door shut behind him. She watched his tall figure walk down the path to the gate, and then he turned down the lane along the vicarage wall, presumably in search of the guard patrolling there, and was lost to sight.
She struggled against the drop in spirits, and a foolish impulse to run after him and beg him to remain with her. She tried to persuade herself it was merely due to the fear of Kilshaw, but a streak of longing for Niall gave her the lie. There was no use deceiving herself, even if she had succeeded in deceiving him into believing she might not care for him enough to give her heart into his keeping. He was a fine man, and he deserved better than she could offer.
Chapter Twenty-one
Contrary to Edith’s expectation, the constant presence in the house of one or other of Niall’s appointed guardians served to rub her nerves raw. Far from feeling safer, she could not forget for a moment that she was under threat.
She chafed at being confined, and on the one or two occasions when necessity compelled her to venture forth, the presence a couple of feet behind her gave her a horrid feeling of unease. The impulse to dart glances about the green or into dark corners was irresistible. Edith half expected to see Kilshaw lurking at the edge of the row of cottages, or within the lea of the Bear’s broad walls as she made for the village shop across the way.
She was hard put to it to remember what she’d come for and dawdled over the trays of gloves and cheap brooches, trying to school her mind to calm while Mrs Ash awaited her pleasure. The woman’s curious glances and oblique references to the presence of the young lad at her heels gave her to understand she’d become an object of curiosity in the village. Yet another black mark to be laid at Lord Kilshaw’s door.
Remembrance hit and she exclaimed aloud. “Ink!”
Mrs Ash started, gazing at her in a kind of fascinated wonder. “Ink, ma’am?”
“Yes, ink, Mrs Ash, that is what I came for. Chiefly. And if you have any of the good paper suitable for letter writing, I will take a quire of that too.”
Relieved to see the woman move to locate these items, Edith glanced towards young Mark, who happened to be on duty on this occasion and had effaced himself by the door while she shopped. He looked as conscious as she felt and Edith could not wonder at it, laid open as he was, as they all were, to the curiosity of the whole village. She dared say her predicament was known from one end of the county to the other.
Stop it, Edith! That must be an exaggeration. Still, it gave her no satisfaction to think how many people might be on the watch for Lord Kilshaw, since it must set her in a poor light. It did not take much imagination to realise why he sought her, and people were apt, she knew, to believe there was no smoke without fire.
Besides, she’d been seen walking on the green with him. Edith could readily picture the construction that might be placed on the whole affair.
She was relieved when Mrs Ash produced a large bottle of ink and a pack of the precious paper. Twenty-five sheets would go a long way.
“Thank you, Mrs Ash. Chalk it up to the vicarage account, if you please.”
“As you wish, Miss Westacott. Is there anything else I can serve you with?”
“No, I thank you. Unless you happen to have a cloak of invisibility?”
“A what, ma’am?”
“Never mind. I am merely funning, Mrs Ash.”
The paper was parcelled up and Mark leapt forward to take the package and the ink bottle. “I’ll carry those for you, miss.”
Edith thanked him, the feeling of helpless dependence increasing. What a poor creature she was! Unable even to carry her own purchases. It struck her that if she married Niall, she would be in precisely that sort of position
. A countess would hardly be expected to do anything without the assistance of a maid or footman. Absurd. She could not live such a life, too used as she was to fend for herself.
Yet a sneaking little voice at the back of her mind suggested how pleasant it might be to cast at least some of her burdens on Niall’s shoulders. It was tempting, especially when she was being given ample opportunity to perceive how broad they were.
But the very fact of his willingness to serve her in any way he could made it impossible for her to accept his offer. Not, at least, until — if — her Nemesis was vanquished and Niall was in possession of the truth.
She arrived back at the vicarage in a despondent mood she found hard to shake off. She set herself back to the task she’d undertaken of copying for her uncle, for which purpose she’d acquired more ink, seeing that his supply was running low.
She was working in the back family parlour, seated at the desk which overlooked the rear gardens. It did not help that this was where she’d seen Lord Kilshaw the other night. The least flash of motion catching in the periphery of her vision was apt to bring her head up, her gaze hunting the garden, the rhythm of her pulse increasing.
Twice, it was merely a bird taking flight. Another time a hare raced across the vegetable patch. And once it was only a cat leaping onto the vicarage wall.
Edith cursed her nerves, Lord Kilshaw, her illness, the presence of her guardians and Niall himself on occasion. She almost wished her Nemesis would make the expected pounce and end the suspense which was shredding her common sense and keeping her on the qui vive in a feverish fashion.
She saw Niall briefly at Sunday service, wondering if he only attended for her sake since he’d never been before. Her uncle was both gratified and delighted to see him, and invited him back to the vicarage for a light luncheon.
To Edith’s mingled disappointment and relief — for she did not wish him to see how his arrangements for her safety were having a deleterious effect — Niall refused the offer.
“I have two of the local gentry coming to the house.”
“Ah, the visits of welcome have begun then?”
Niall looked harassed. “They began weeks back and I have been remiss in reciprocating. I met Mr Chamberlain and General Pearman while riding with Eddows and took the chance then.”
“In that case, we must not keep you,” said her uncle, shaking hands.
Niall turned to Edith with a searching look. “How do you go on? I’m sorry I have not kept my promise to call.”
“You’ve been busy, I don’t doubt. Pray don’t trouble your head over me any further. So far all is well.”
Her uncle having moved on to talk to a couple of waiting parishioners, they were momentarily alone. Niall moved a trifle closer and lowered his voice. “You don’t look as relaxed as I could wish.”
She managed a tight smile. “I will do.”
His eyes scanned her face, his brows drawing together. “I wish I might spend more time here. The case is that probate has at last been granted and Eddows and I have been tied to our desks until today, catching up with the finances.”
“That is excellent news. You will be able to put in the improvements you spoke of.”
“In due time. I’ve been able to pay my people at last.” He put out his hand. “All my instinct is to remain, for I don’t much like the look of you, but I have to go.”
Edith gave him an arch smile. “Well, I know I am not precisely a beauty, sir, but I scarcely expected you to insult me to my face.”
He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “You know perfectly well what I mean, you wretch.” His tone dropped to a murmur. “And you are, as I’ve told you before, extremely beautiful, though you don’t choose to use feminine arts to emphasise it.”
She felt warmth rise to her cheeks. There was no mistaking the look of admiration in his eyes and Edith’s heart soared. Perhaps there was hope after all.
Her lifted mood remained throughout the day and she slept dreamlessly that night, rising on Monday morning in a much more comfortable frame of mind.
Joining her uncle for breakfast, she found him with an empty plate already set aside and drinking a cup of coffee while he perused a letter, evidently taken from a pile beside him.
“Ash kindly collected these from the Posting Office at Warwick, my dear Ede. What with all this business, I have had no chance to go myself and they have accumulated. There is one for you, my dear.”
He held out a folded parchment, a seal visible on one side. Puzzled, Edith took it from him and went to take her place at the table. She read the inscription of her name and turned it over to look at the seal.
“How odd. It is not franked and there is no address. Uncle, this cannot have come with the others.”
The vicar raised bespectacled eyes. “Well, why don’t you open it, my dear Ede?”
Edith looked at the letter in her hand and a horrid presentiment shot through her. The writing was bold and black. She had seen it before, had she not? An image leapt into her mind, of the same bold, black writing in a note brought to the Academy by the two girls, Millie and Isabel.
With a cry, she threw the letter from her and leapt to her feet, staring at it where it lay on the pristine white cloth as if at a coiled snake.
“Ede, what in the world is the matter?”
“It’s from him! I recognise his writing.”
“Heavens above!” Her uncle was on his feet, moving to snatch up the letter. “Are you certain?”
“I could not be more so. It could not have been among the others, Uncle, don’t you see? He has been here! He must have left it himself.”
The vicar was staring at the letter, turning it over and over. He started at this and headed for the door. “We will soon find out.”
Shaking, Edith dropped into her chair and set her hands to her now throbbing temples, her mind afire. With all the guards, he yet had managed to sneak a letter into the place. Why should he write to her? She dared not indulge the hope it was to tell her he would desist. He would have sent it through the ordinary post if that were the case. No, it must contain some threat.
Well, she would not read it. She would burn it unread. Let him think she’d seen it, whatever it might say.
But even as the thoughts formed, Edith knew she would be unable to refrain from finding out. Niall would be sure to say she ought to do so. In case there was some sort of clue there. Although Kilshaw would scarcely put his evil intent on paper. That must incriminate him. She could take it before a magistrate and have him laid by the heels. Only none would dare lay hands on a man of his stature, friend to the Prince. But at least, if the letter said something of his intention, it might give Niall leverage.
“The mystery is solved, my dear Ede,” said her uncle, coming back into the dining parlour.
“Tell me!”
He came to her side, holding up the still sealed note. “Young Davey says it was slipped through the door early this morning, just after he exchanged with the Eddows boy.”
Edith gazed at him aghast. “Slipped through the door? By whom?”
“That he did not know.”
“Did he not think to look? Didn’t he go to the window at least?”
He patted her shoulder in a soothing way. “Yes, my dear, he did. But he saw nothing beyond an urchin strolling along the lane.”
Edith’s mind jumped. “He bribed a boy to bring it. That means he was in the village.”
“Open it, my dear. There is little point in remaining ignorant of what he says — if it is indeed from that man.”
Edith gazed at the bold writing again. “There can be no doubt.”
“Open it!”
It was the last thing she wished to do. She did not even want to touch it, feeling her fingertips contaminated by being in contact where his fingers might have been.
Yet despite herself, she set her finger under the folded edge and watched the seal break. The paper quivered in her hold as she slowly opened the sheet and cast her gaze ove
r its message.
“I am not far away, my love. Soon we will be together. Look for me every moment. I will not fail.”
Edith’s stomach churned and she wanted to vomit. A travesty of a love letter! How dared he write in such terms? As if she would welcome the promise contained in his lying words.
Unable to will her tongue to speak, she handed the letter to her uncle. Promise? He did not lie in that, for the veiled intent was there, even in the twisted meaning.
Her uncle read it with a puzzled frown. “What in the world does he mean by this, my dear Ede? I do not pretend to understand it, for it reads like the words of a respected suitor. Can we have mistaken him after all?”
Drawing a tight breath, Edith held back the hot refutation that rose to her tongue. This was not her uncle’s fault, and he was doing everything he might to protect her. She spoke with careful restraint. “It is no such thing, Uncle Lionel. It is a veiled threat. He means me to understand that he will not give up. Yet anyone reading it may take it at face value.”
His cheery countenance became overlaid with anxiety and Edith felt horribly guilty. On impulse she reached for his free hand and clasped it between both her own.
“Uncle, I wish I had not brought this trouble upon you. I should have gone anywhere else rather than come home.”
“Well, thank heavens you did come home, my dear Ede! Waste no time or words on that nonsense, but eat your breakfast like a good girl and I will send at once to his lordship. It is imperative he knows of this.”
Faint amusement lightened Edith’s gloom. “I dare say he will approve of your reducing me to schoolgirl status in this shabby way, sir.”
He patted her in his usual fashion. “You must pardon your old uncle, my dear Ede. I cannot but recall you in the days of your short petticoats. Eat up, do. It will not serve to be starving yourself and you will offend Mrs Tuffin.”
With which, he dropped the letter on the table and left the room again, presumably to write a note to Niall. Reflecting that it was as well he’d almost finished his repast, Edith snatched up the letter and read it again.
Knight For A Lady (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 3) Page 17
