“Thank you, Frances. If anything presents itself, please notify me immediately and we will do what we can to prevent it from getting any worse,” Diana offered in an effort to sooth her friend’s obviously frayed nerves.
“I will, My Lady.”
Frances aided Diana in bathing and dressing for the evening meal, then left the room to investigate the butler’s intentions.
In spite of her words, Diana’s heart sped up in fear that Frances might be right. If the butler did know about her and Gabriel’s feelings for one another then it would be her fault, and she could not bear the feeling of guilt that such ruin would bring to her family. She had spoken strong words of denial to Frances in spite of her own palpable fears in order to calm her friend’s distress, but in truth she shared it.
He can know nothing for certain and that will have to be enough. I do not have the time or the strength to worry about anything else but Gabriel, not even for the investigation into a noble murderess.
Frances fled the kitchen as if her very life depended upon it and barricaded herself away in her mistress’ bedchamber. Perhaps it had been nothing but her own imagination, but she could have sworn that someone was following her, watching her every move.
Do not be so silly.
She chided herself, attempting to calm her racing heart.
She had left Lady Diana’s bedchamber and gone down to the kitchens to keep an eye on the butler’s intentions and to see if she could discover anything more about the mystery of the disappearing, possibly murdered, infant. She wished that she could speak with the staff at Westwallow once more on the matter, given the information that she had acquired was all about an act that had occurred there and not in Wales, but she could not do so until they returned, if they returned at all.
I strongly feel that it would be best for all involved if we returned to Kilgrave at once and never stepped foot upon the Jenson family lands ever again but, alas, I am not the one who gets to decide these matters.
When she had entered the kitchen, it was as if every eye in the place had turned to stare at her. Frances’ heart had plummeted in her chest and she instantly knew that something was amiss. She had gone about her duties, pretending not to notice, but when she had stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air, one of the footmen had stepped outside with her and stood staring down at her until she had grown so uncomfortable that she had returned to the kitchen, only to be met with the same faces staring back at her.
Lady Diana, not being a servant, had no notion of how things truly worked below stairs and would probably have told her that she was being overly sensitive due to her own fears, and perhaps she was, but she knew that she had not just imagined everything. Frances had been the one to make the inquiries into the Dowager Marchioness, it would be Frances that would pay the price. Diana had told her of what had transpired in the Marquess’ bed chamber and that someone had complained about her, though Her Ladyship’s focus had been on the baby in the painting. A chill of fear passed over Frances’ spine and she turned her eyes heavenward.
What have I gotten myself into?
When Diana returned to her room after dinner to change her clothing into something more comfortable, she found Frances curled up in a ball asleep at the foot of the bed. Not wishing to wake her, she quickly undressed herself and slipped on one of her day gowns that required the least amount of effort. Returning to the library, she found that the Marquess had also returned to sit vigil.
The image of Gabriel doing the very same thing for the Marquess flashed through her mind and she smiled. Days had passed as the family and staff had banded together to care for their wounded loved one when the Marquess had been injured in the hunt. Now, the Marquess was returning the favor and it warmed Diana’s heart to see it.
“You are a good man, Ernest,” Diana murmured as she came to sit down beside him.
The Marquess shook his head.
“No, I am not. I am not even half of the man that Gabriel is in honor or in skill, but he is my responsibility and I will see him cared for properly.”
Diana did not know what to say to such an impassioned admittance. Her thoughts turned to what she had heard in the Marquess’ bedchamber as she had hidden beneath the bed.
Could he have been the man in the room?
Diana studied his face, attempting to read its hidden depths. She was not certain, but she thought she saw a flicker of guilt and anger in his eyes.
“Do you wish to speak of it?”
The Marquess looked at her in surprise. “Speak of what?”
“The thing that makes you feel thusly about yourself.”
Ernest shook his head.
“You are far more observant than is good for you. It is this quality about you that led to your realizing that Gabriel was a man of worth, in spite of your differences in station. It is a quality that I admire in you, as does Gabriel, but it might very well be your ruin.” His words held more of a heartfelt warning than a threat.
“Perhaps so, but it is not something that I can cease from being. I have been this way my entire life and I cannot extinguish it as one would a fire. I see that you are haunted by many things, even more than the haunting of the loss of your wife and child. I can see in the depths of your eyes that you are plagued by a matter of conscience. You are drawn to the honor in Gabriel, longing to see the same in yourself, and yet you doubt that you possess it. Why?”
“This is not a matter for your concern.”
“Does it have anything to do with the rumors that your mother murdered an infant, your father’s illegitimate child?”
All of the color drained from the Marquess’ face in an instant. “Where did you hear such a thing?”
“I cannot say. I can only say that such a rumor exists and that there is some proof that adds weight to the matter.”
“Who has you told about this?” The Marquess’ eyes bore into Diana’s with an intensity that was truly frightening.
“No one,” Diana shook her head in denial. “I thought that it was best to speak with you on the matter first. There has not been time until this moment to do so.”
“Rumors are simply that, rumors.”
“And what of the painting in your room?”
The Marquess’ eyes widened in surprise, then acknowledgement.
“It was you who peeled away the paint. I honestly thought that a servant had damaged it in passing while cleaning.”
“I am sorry to have invaded your privacy, but I needed answers. My family has placed a great deal of trust in your mother and I cannot allow their reputations to be tarnished by the actions of a murderess. Nor can I in good conscience ignore something such as this and leave a poor helpless infant unavenged.”
“And yet you give so little thought to your own family’s reputation when it comes to your own actions,” the Marquess snapped, gesturing toward Gabriel’s prone form as if she had done something truly indecent.
“You know good and well that I have kept my distance for that very reason. I may not be able to alter the feelings of my heart, but I have done nothing that would cause true damage to anyone other than that very heart.”
The Marquess looked immediately regretful of his words.
“I am sorry, Diana. I did not mean what I said. I know the price that you have paid in denying your heart for the sake of your family.”
“It is only natural to lash out at someone who is accusing your mother of murder. I would do the same.” Diana laid a reassuring hand on Ernest’s arm to show that she accepted his apology.
“She is my mother. For all of her faults and flaws, I love her and would do anything to protect her.” The underlying tone in his voice said what his words did not. It spoke of the many things that he had already done to protect her and appeared to still be doing.
Diana opened her mouth to speak further on the matter, when a thundering of hooves came roaring up the drive, drawing their attention to the windows. Torches lit the night as the Earl of Appley called out for the
men to dismount. Mere moments later he was standing before them, dirt-stained and windblown from his journey.
The search party had returned empty-handed.
“We were unable to find them before darkness fell, but we will return to the hunt upon the morrow, my friend,” Appley informed the Marquess. “How is the lad?” He came to stand over Gabriel’s body, his brow furrowed in genuine concern.
Diana could not help but wonder if he knew the truth of their love whether the Earl would be so concerned for his rival. Shaking the uncharitable thought from her head, Diana told him of everything that had transpired since his departure.
“He burns with fever, but we are doing everything that we can for him.”
“He saved my life,” the Earl murmured. “May God now save his.”
“Amen,” the Marquess murmured in prayerful response.
Chapter 31
When Gabriel’s fever finally broke come the morning’s light, he did not awaken, but simply fell into a deeper and more restful sleep. The entire household gave a collective sigh of relief and rejoiced in the knowledge that one of their favorite people would survive to see another day. It had been a close thing with his fever spiking in the dark, wee hours of the morning, but they had made it through together—Diana, the Marquess, and the Earl—together sitting vigil at Gabriel’s side, bathing his heated body without ceasing.
The Earl, content that his savior was not going to die, left the library to take a much-needed bath, break the fast, and rest before setting out to hunt down the brigands responsible once more. Diana herself was in desperate need of a bath and food but did not wish to leave Gabriel alone. The Marquess, seeing her hesitancy, instructed a maid to come and sit with him.
“Go and rest, my dear, before you fall ill yourself from exhaustion. He will be well cared for.”
Sighing, Diana nodded her acceptance and returned to her room. Disrobing, she waited for Frances to finish filling her bath, then sank down into the soothing embrace of the heated water. She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the side of the tub. She could hear Frances moving about the room tending to this and that, but all she really wanted was some quiet time to herself after being around others for so many hours without a break.
Opening her eyes, she sought out her maid and gently asked for Frances to leave things be for a time so that she might have a moment to herself. A look of fear flashed across the maid’s face and Diana frowned in confusion.
“What has happened? Why do you look so frightened?”
Frances proceeded to tell her about what had transpired in Diana’s absence.
“I cannot say for certain about anything, but I cannot escape the feeling that something was quite wrong about it all.”
“Let us hope that it is a matter of our own anxiety and not a true threat to your person.” Diana frowned as she considered all that Frances had told her and compared it to all that she had already discovered. The Marquess had not told her anything more about his mother, but there had been a definite reaction to her inquiry into the accused murder. He had not confirmed it, but he had not convincingly denied it, either.
“As you say, My Lady,” Frances answered unconvinced. “I will await your instructions just outside of the door.”
Diana nodded and watched as her friend closed the door behind her. Leaning back against the side of the tub once more, she watched the shadows and light from the fire dance across the ceiling. Something was not right. Was it murder? She did not know, but there was definitely something amiss and the Marquess was privy to whatever it was.
How can I get him to tell me about it? It is doubtful that he is going to incriminate his own mother no matter the truth or falsehood of the accusation. His familial fondness for me will not eliminate his need to protect his own mother.
Sighing, she stirred restlessly, unable to find a solution to the problem that would not cause a great deal more strife between them than her inquiries had already caused. It would not do anyone any good if she was asked to leave the premises before she had had an opportunity to get to the truth of the matter. Part of her wished to run away and leave all of the heartbreak and intrigue behind, but another part of her, the part that believed in justice for the downtrodden, could not leave it alone.
Am I doing the right thing?
Frances stood anxiously in the hallway outside of Lady Diana’s bedchamber, awaiting her mistress’ summons. She nervously looked from side to side, reassuring herself that the man who had stood over her outside the manor house kitchens was not lurking in the shadows.
This is intolerable.
She grumbled inwardly as she shook her head in frustration with her present situation.
Under normal circumstances she would have dismissed such behavior from a man as uncomfortable, but not something worthy of the level of fear that she was feeling. With the accusation of murder having been made against the Dowager Marchioness, it transformed every unusual behavior among the family and their staff as a threat, whether it truly was or not. She knew that she was probably not being reasonable, but she could not help herself. Her entire being quivered with fearful anxiety.
The presumed murder did not even happen here and yet I am more frightened here than I was at Westwallow.
Frances found herself wishing that the footman, Stephen, had traveled with them from Westwallow so that she would have someone to speak with on the matter. She had felt quite alone since leaving Kilgrave, but Stephen had helped to make things more tolerable for her from the moment of her arrival. Now, here in Wales, she felt more alone than she ever had in her entire life.
At one time in her life she would have turned to Diana to share her thoughts and feelings, but the older that they had grown the less she had felt able to do so. It had not been from anything that Diana had done, but as time had passed, the clearer the difference in their stations had become. The chasm had grown even wider with the introduction of the stable hand Gabriel to Lady Diana’s affections, and Frances’ disapproval of the events that had transpired.
I thought that she had been removed from such temptations and yet there he lies in the library below her feet.
Frances sighed and shook her head once more.
“Is there something amiss, Miss Frances?” the Welsh butler’s voice broke into her thoughts, causing her to jump in surprise.
Frances whirled around and faced him in a half fearful, half accusatory stance.
“I do not know, Mr. Jones. Is there?” She could hardly believe her boldness.
“I was told that you were looking for me.”
In her fear, Frances had forgotten her intention to discover exactly what the butler knew about her mistress and Gabriel Rowan and what he intended to do about it. She opened her mouth to speak but found that she did not know what to say. Her mouth went dry and she snapped it shut in frustration. The butler, taking in her agitated state, frowned in concern and waited patiently for her to find the words to speak.
“I was,” Frances admitted, still not certain what to say. She was angry with herself for not thinking the matter over more carefully before going in search of the man.
“Has something happened to cause you distress?”
Frances wanted to shout that something had indeed happened, but when she attempted to describe it, to put it into words that would make sense, she could not do it. Frances shook her head.
“My apologies, Mr. Jones.”
The butler studied Frances’ face with a sympathetic light in his eyes.
“You may reassure your mistress that my discretion will never falter,” he spoke quietly and gently.
Frances met his eyes and found that he did, indeed, appear to be sincere.
“Does your discretion extend to all matters within the household?” She held his eyes in an almost accusatory manner. If a maid knew of the possibility of the Dowager Marchioness being a murderess, surely a butler would know the same, if not more.
The butler’s expression did not alter in the
slightest.
“Miss Frances,” he inclined his head in farewell and moved on down the hallway, his non-answer hanging in the air between them with a weight that did not bring the comfort that one would hope.
At the very least now we know that he will keep My Lady’s affections a secret.
Turning, Frances reentered Diana’s bedchamber to tell her of the reassuring news.
“I want him out of this house!” The Dowager Marchioness’ shrill voice echoed through the doorway of the library as Diana descended the stairs.
Diana had bathed and rested as instructed, leaving Gabriel in the Marquess’ care. The Marquess had commanded all of the manor house staff that they were to say nothing to the Dowager Marchioness about Gabriel’s presence in the house. As far as the Dowager had been told, it had been one of the Earl of Appley’s servants who had been shot and lay in the library so as to keep her disinterested in the entire affair. It was clear now that she had discovered otherwise.
The Enigmatic Lady in the Ivory Tower Page 20
