Family Scandals

by Denise Patrick

  “Are you sure your wife didn’t do the deed for us?” came the woman’s voice again. “It’s been hours.”

  Corinna found the rope wrapped around her ankles.

  “With that silly little twit, anything’s possible,” was the disgusted answer. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s not going anywhere, so why don’t you just go home.”

  “No,” was the determined answer. “I agreed to help. Besides, I have a score to settle with her too.”

  The crack of humorless laughter stopped Corinna for a moment just as she found the knot.

  “If Julianna’s already done the deed for us, we could just leave her here to rot.”

  Corinna didn’t want to hear anything else. Working frantically on the rope around her ankles, she was thankful she had learned as a child to escape from almost anywhere. Of course, this was not child’s play. Whoever was outside the cottage planned to kill her.

  The rope fell away from her legs and she was able to push herself into a sitting position. Unfortunately, she could not reach the knot in the rope binding her wrists, so she had no choice but to stand as best she could.

  “It would have been easier if you hadn’t involved your wife.” The two must have moved because the woman’s voice was suddenly clearer and Corinna went cold. She recognized that voice. “I would have come up with a way to get her here on my own.”

  Moving slowly so as not to make any sound, she looked up at a small window in the wall above the pallet. Night had fallen and she could see stars through the opening. It was too high for her to look directly out of, but was also, she noted, too small for her, or anyone else, to squeeze through. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You?”The male voice sounded incredulous, and Corinna recognized it as well. For a moment she was frozen in shock, then the voice she was sure belonged to Vincent said, “Not a chance. She would never have accepted any type of invitation from you.” She took a deep breath to calm herself then began to feel her way along the wall toward what she hoped was the front of the cottage and the door.

  “Perhaps.”

  Vincent’s laugh sent chills down Corinna’s spine. “After speaking to your brother, I doubt she would have even received anything from you. The staff at Waring House probably have orders to burn anything from any member of your family. Me, however, I made certain she never knew who I was.” There was a short silence, then Vincent casually asked, “Or did you want to hang for murder?”

  Diana snorted. “Not likely.”

  Vincent laughed. “You are even more naïve than she is. Everyone knows how much you hate her. It’s not normal.”

  Corinna continued feeling her way along the wall. Reaching a corner, she leaned back against the wall for a moment and closed her eyes. Vincent was Julianna’s husband? No wonder she had never made his acquaintance. That explained his attire when she had encountered him in Hatchard’s. Did he think that she would denounce him for an imposter? Was that why he wanted her dead? Was he?

  Opening her eyes again, she tried to make out the contents of the small space before her. There was a dark shape in the wall opposite the pallet she had been left on, and she alternated between hope and fear it was another window. If it was, it was larger than the other. In the center of the room she could just make out the shape of a table and bench. At the far end of the room was a dark shadow she hoped was a fireplace and not another entrance.

  “It’s time to check on our little bird,” Vincent’s bored voice interrupted her perusal of the cottage.

  Panic nearly immobilized her. She had been so busy listening to their conversation, she hadn’t found the door and possible freedom. Moving quickly, she felt her way along the wall and found the door. To her relief, there was a crossbar built into it. She lowered the bar as slowly as possible, trying to ease it into the slot. It still made a thumping noise as it fit.

  Continuing along the front wall, she made her way to the dark shape across from her pallet. It was, indeed, a window. But it was covered by an oilcloth tacked securely to the wall all the way around. With her hands still bound together, Corinna knew it would be impossible to get out of the window quick enough once Vincent and Diana discovered the door barred. The fastness with which the oilcloth was fixed might deter them from getting in momentarily, but not long enough for Corinna’s peace of mind.

  Glancing around the room, she tried desperately to find some sort of weapon. Crossing the room to the other shadow, she was relieved to find that it was, indeed, a fireplace. She found plenty of firewood, but only a small, but thick, stick. It wouldn’t do much damage, but it might be useful somehow.

  There was a scraping against the door, then an oath from Vincent. “It won’t budge,” he said.

  “Here, let me,” Diana said. “Wha—”

  Corinna heard a thump against the door. Then another.

  “Damn!” Vincent swore. “She must have awakened while we were out here and has barred the door from the inside.”

  “Amy!” If she hadn’t been sure it was Diana outside before, she was sure now. Only a member of her family would know that name.

  She heard movement outside and, listening closely, tracked the footsteps as they moved around the small structure.

  “There’s a window on this side,” she heard Diana say.

  Moments later she could see the oilcloth move inward as pressure was put on it from the outside. It wouldn’t take much to make it give way. What would she do then? There was a tearing sound as the cloth began to yield under the pressure. She shuddered, even as she looked around for a place to hide.

  Moving quickly into a corner, she pressed herself into the shadows, glad she was wearing a dark-colored gown. Something pressed into her back and turning, she ran her hands along the wall, discovering a walking staff leaning in the corner. Grasping it with both hands, she breathed a sigh of relief. This might fend off an attacker.

  “When I get inside, I’ll make her pay for this,” Vincent snarled.

  “Save yourself the trouble,” Diana suggested. There was a long silence as the activity outside the window ceased. “You could make it look like an accident, and as long as your wife says nothing, no one will ever know.”

  “How?” Vincent’s voice contained mild interest.

  “A little smoke and she’ll come running out fast enough. But even if she doesn’t…” Diana’s voice trailed off.

  Corinna’s eyes snapped to the low ceiling of the hut. It was made of thatch and, suddenly, she knew exactly what Diana was thinking. Closing her eyes, she was seven years old again.

  She and her mother had been going through trunks in the attics and found some old ball gowns. She had been so excited, her mother had a footman bring one of the smaller trunks down to the first-floor drawing room. When Diana entered the room a short time later, she was wearing a gown of blue velvet over her own dress and was trying to figure out how to fasten on the stomacher. With her mother present, she had no fear of her twelve-year-old sister, so had paid scant attention to her except to note that Diana threw herself into a chair near the fire and watched the two of them with a sullen look on her face.

  “There,” her mother had said, “I think that’s how that fastens. Let me look at you.”

  She giggled as her mother pronounced it a little big, but she would grow into it one day and could wear it to her coming-out ball. Parading around the room in her over-sized finery, holding up the front of the gown and being careful not to trip over the train, she approached Diana’s chair as the housekeeper entered the room to ask her mother a question.

  “Do you want to try something on?” she asked.“There’s lots of stuff in here.”

  Diana sneered back that she had better things to do than play around in musty old clothes. Corinna hadn’t been put off, but turned back to the trunk to find something she thought Diana might like. Moments later she had felt extremely warm and a burning pain on the back of her legs. Whipping around, she heard her mother scream and pandemonium erupted. By then, she had b
egun to scream as well as the dress she was wearing erupted in flames. She only barely registered Diana’s laugh over the commotion.

  Vincent’s harsh laugh brought her back to the present, causing the hair to rise on the back of her neck. Then the oilcloth began to move and tear again.

  Raising the stick, she moved closer to the window, thankful her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Moments later a hand appeared and she brought the stick down as hard as she could on it.

  “Owww!” Vincent’s bellow of pain as the hand disappeared gave her a moment’s satisfaction.

  “What happened?”

  “The bitch hit me with something,” he replied. “I think my wrist is broken.”

  Diana giggled. “I told you what to do. You won’t get inside through the window without a lot of bruises. I grew up with the hellion and she knows every trick there is.”

  Corinna’s calm was beginning to assert itself, but it was short-lived.

  “Fine then,” Vincent’s voice came again, “it doesn’t matter to me how she dies.” Corinna breathed another quick sigh of relief.

  Moving closer to the window, she wondered if she could pull the cloth far enough away to climb out.

  “I should never have told your brother about her,” Vincent growled as they moved away.

  She heard Diana laugh, then angry voices. “Then just leave it to me,” she argued, menace in her voice. “I’ll make sure she’s gone forever.”

  Vincent replied in a low voice. Although she couldn’t hear what he said, the tone sent chills down her spine.

  Diana’s shrill voice split the night. “You wouldn’t dare!” Then her voice lowered to a whisper and a heated exchange ensued.

  A shot rang out. Corinna tensed, straining to hear what was happening.

  “Bitch,” Vincent spat. “Dead people don’t talk to anyone. At least, Julianna would never think of crossing me.” Then his footsteps receded and Corinna’s blood turned to ice.

  Moments later Diana was forgotten as the thatch over the door burst into flame.

  “I took ’em all the way out to Epping Forest, m’lord.” Old Dobbin stood before an audience of the Inspector, Marcus, Brand, Felicia, Trent and Eliza in the library at Waring House.“The young‘un said his wife was ill and he was takin’ her out to see a healer what lives in a hut near the edge o’ the forest. Right pretty little thing she was too. But she was white as a sheet when he carried her out.”

  “Did you stop anywhere along the way?” the Inspector asked.

  The grizzled old man worried the battered hat he held in his hands. “As a matter o’ fact we did. We picked up the little lady’s sister at the White Table not long afore we reached the forest.”

  “What did this ‘sister’ look like?” Brand asked.

  “Couldn’t tell much ’cepting she had red hair.”

  “Diana, maybe?” Felicia said to the room at large.

  “Possibly,” Eliza answered.

  “Houghton Hall isn’t far from Epping Forest.” These were the first words spoken by Marcus in a long time, but everyone understood the implication.

  “Was the young woman still unconscious when you reached your destination?” Brand asked.

  “I think so. The young‘un carried her inside while the sister paid me fee. She was wrapped in a blanket, so’s I only saw her face. I asked if’n they wanted me to wait, but the sister said no.”

  “Did you overhear anything they said? Any conversation? Any names?” Trent asked.

  “No, sir. I don’t listen in on me customers. It’s bad fer business.”

  “All right then.” Brand turned to Marcus. “Epping Forest it is, and there’s no time to lose.”

  The men moved toward the door. “I’ll send a coach to follow,” Felicia called as they disappeared through it.

  Once mounted, they rode as fast as they could through the city, not able to give the horses their heads until they reached the open road to Epping. Marcus thanked every star in the sky for the full moon shining down on the empty road in front of them, enabling them to ride hard and fast.

  His mind went back over what Eliza and Trent had revealed to the assembled company. Corinna’s cousin, Vincent, was indeed Lord Barber. Although Vincent and Julianna’s wedding had been a small family affair, Eliza and Trent had been invited because Trent and Viscount Northrup were longstanding friends. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary about the couple. Julianna seemed smitten by her bridegroom and Vincent seemed equally attentive.

  Lord Northrup had revealed to Trent the intricacies of the search that turned up Vincent. He had been difficult to trace, it turned out, because his father, Conrad Pingree, had died not long after Vincent was born and his mother, Mirabel, had remarried. Vincent had been raised by his mother’s second husband, Joshua Lemmons, and had taken his name.

  There was no untoward gossip about them in the ton, and Eliza and Trent had known Julianna had been safely delivered of a son about three months ago. Northrup had written to Trent of his relief at having the line seemingly secured.

  He wondered why Vincent felt the need to kill Corinna, for there was no doubt in his mind that that’s what Vincent planned to do. Did he feel she was a threat to his position? Did she know something he didn’t want revealed? What kind of hold did he think she had over him that warranted murder?

  As for Diana, Marcus had no answers. He knew from discussions with Felicia that Diana was mean and vindictive. But did she truly hate her younger sister enough to want her dead? And what would Corinna’s death accomplish?

  It was as they rounded a bend in the road and the edge of the forest came into view that Marcus also noticed an unnatural brightness in the sky. Slowing down, he looked at Trent, who had pulled up beside him.

  “What do you suppose that bright light is?” It was more of a statement than a question, voiced by Trent.

  Brand rode up on the other side and was about to say something when a light breeze tickled their noses and dread slithered down their spines.

  “Fire!” Marcus dug his heels into his stallion’s side and shot forward. Originally thinking he might have to sneak up on the small dwelling described by Dobbin, he threw caution to the wind and barreled forward, uncaring of who might hear.

  Corinna was trying desperately not to panic, but the terror she always experienced when faced with open flames threatened to engulf her. Running to the window, she tore at the oilcloth in the opening, but still could not hoist herself up enough to get out. Standing there for a few moments, she tried to use her teeth to loosen the rope around her wrists, but gave up when she heard footsteps returning.

  Shrinking back into the darkness, she looked around wildly for some other way out. The fire was spreading rapidly through the roof, chunks of flaming thatch beginning to fall to the dirt floor. Moving toward the back of the hut, she encountered the fireplace and flattened herself against the wall beside it as Vincent stuck his head in the window.

  “Where are you?” he yelled.

  Frozen in fear, Corinna watched as he pointed a pistol inside the hut. She didn’t dare move and bring herself to his attention, but the fire was spreading in her direction and she knew it would be directly overhead shortly. The smoke was already so thick it was tangible, causing her eyes to water, and her throat to close up. It was only a matter of time before she began to cough, and draw Vincent’s attention.

  Something outside must have caught his attention for his arm suddenly disappeared and Corinna took the chance he was diverted and dropped to the ground. The smoke was nearly overwhelming now and she began to cough. Crawling on her hands and knees as best she could, she curled herself into a tight ball inside the mouth of the fireplace, sneezing when she encountered the ashes inside. She covered her nose and mouth with the skirt of her dress and blinked her eyes rapidly as they watered.

  I can’t die now. Marcus needs me. I can’t leave him now. The roof was fully engulfed and she knew it was only a matter of time before it completely caved in. She though
t she heard another shot, but it was difficult to tell over the noise of the flames and the roar of falling beams as the portion of the roof over the door fell. Another part of the roof caved in, this one over the pallet she had awakened on.

  The smoke was thicker now. She could see little beyond the mouth of the fireplace except flame. The heat was intense and she closed her eyes against it. Her lungs felt as if they might burst and she began gasping for air. It was raining fire all around her, and another piece of the roof collapsed, this time almost directly in front of her. A burning beam fell in front of the fireplace and she kicked it away. Two more beams fell directly against the fireplace, dislodging some of the stones surrounding her.

  The fire hadn’t reached her directly, but the stones surrounding her were becoming heated. A small one fell on her leg. She cried out. Another stone fell. Then another beam fell and the pain that shot up her arm as she batted it away nearly brought with it unconsciousness. Dragging in smoke-tinged breaths, she thought she heard banging on the wall behind her, but could not make out the sound as darkness claimed her.

  Marcus stood and stared helplessly at the burning hut. Vincent lay dead on the ground at his feet, but Marcus was oblivious to anything except that Corinna was inside the inferno before him. The front had completely collapsed, there was no way in from that direction.

  Fear rose like bile in his throat as the elusive memory of the week before suddenly crystallized. Corinna had been burned as a child. Her dress had caught fire and she still bore the scars. What had Douglas told him? His mother told Corinna the fire was an accident, but she knew Diana had deliberately set the dress on fire.

  Turning, he ran around to the side, looking frantically for another way inside. There was a small opening high up, but the roof over it had already collapsed. He continued to the back, where he found Brand had discovered a small well and was raising a bucket of water from its depths.