by Diane Farr
“Well, we don’t know that he did,” said Mrs. Pratt comfortably. “Lord Badesworth didn’t mention her. He asked for you, not for his wife.”
Olivia halted in her pacing. “Did he? Let us hope, then, that he does not know she is here. Or at least that he is not certain! At any rate, I had better go up without further delay. He will have seen my arrival through the window.”
Mrs. Pratt permitted herself a satisfied smile. “As to that, my lady, I took the liberty of tightly closing the shutters.”
“Oh, well done.” Olivia gave her a grateful smile. “If he has not torn the house apart, then, he does not know that you have warned me. Heavens, if only I knew what to do!”
Mrs. Pratt’s kindly face was troubled. “Have we the law on our side, my lady?”
“No,” said Olivia in a low tone. “I fear we have not.” She sighed. “There is nothing for it but to tell him the truth. We knew this day would come. I have been thinking that we might negotiate some sort of settlement. Marriages of convenience are so common among our class, and so few of them succeed, that many husbands and wives eventually agree to live apart.” Even to Olivia’s ears, her optimism sounded forced.
The housekeeper, who had served the family all her life, looked skeptical. “Master Ralph was never one to let go of anything that was his. Not unless it was took from him by force.”
This was true, and Olivia knew it. She took another hasty turn about the room, thinking aloud. “I must think of something. I must try. I cannot agree to let Ralph set Edith up in the dower house. She will never be safe so long as he knows where she is. But perhaps he will allow me to keep her here, for a price.”
Mrs. Pratt gave a satisfied nod. “If you’ll pardon me, my lady, I’ll just step up and let the ladies know you are home, and that all’s well.”
All was far from well, but Olivia waved her off absently, still thinking. A few moments later she took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then walked upstairs with a straight spine and a reasonably firm tread. This is my house, she reminded herself. Ralph has no power here.
She pasted a pleasant expression on her face, opened the door, and entered her morning room. “Ralph, how do you do?” she said cordially, walking forward with her hand extended. “What brings you to Chelsea?”
He was standing by the fireplace and did not move to greet her. His belligerent scowl put her instantly in mind of their father. Ralph looked more like him every year. His hair was thinning rapidly, and the thickness of his body was no longer due to muscle, but to fat. Poor Edith, she thought with an inward shudder.
“Cut line,” he ordered brusquely. “I’m searching for Edith. She ran off. Left me without a word of warning. I’ve only one question for you, Olivia. Did you know?”
Since he obviously was not going to shake her hand, she dropped it to her side. “Yes,” she said simply.
Ralph’s face flushed with anger. “I’ll warrant you did, begad!” he shouted. “She’s been spotted in Chelsea. Chelsea! I could scarce believe my ears when I heard it.” He shook his fist at her in impotent fury. “Have you conspired with her all these weeks, Olivia? Did you help her run away from me? Was it your idea? By thunder, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was! You’ve never cared tuppence for the family name—”
“It was not my idea,” she said crisply. “Control yourself, brother, and kindly remember where you are. If you cannot speak civilly to me, I shall ask you to leave this house.”
Her words, not unnaturally, sent him into a tirade. While Ralph stomped about, cursing and hurling abuse at her, Olivia calmly removed her hat and gloves, setting them on a small table near the door. She then seated herself in one of the wing chairs and regarded her brother impassively, waiting until he shouted himself to a standstill.
“That temper of yours will be the death of you one day,” she observed. “Pray sit down and behave like an adult—if you can! Throwing a tantrum will not achieve your ends.”
“How dare you?” he spluttered. “How dare you take that tone with me, you insolent chit? I’m the head of the family, by God!”
“You are not the head of anything here,” she informed him sharply. “You are a guest in my home—an unbidden guest, I might add—and fast wearing out your welcome. Come down off your high ropes, Ralph. You can’t bully me.”
He couldn’t, because years of practice had taught Olivia to hide her fear when dealing with him. She had long been thankful that the spread of years between their births had protected her, to some degree, from what might have been a childhood filled with terror. Ralph had always had a cruel streak and a hot temper, but he had been away at school most of the time when she was small.
He glared at her, eyes narrowed and head lowered like an enraged bear. “The baggage ran away,” he growled. “Ran away, d’ye hear me? She’s made me a bloody laughingstock. It’s impossible to keep such things a secret. The state of my marriage is the talk of the town. I would have suspected you had a hand in it, but I thought you barely knew her.”
Her nostrils flared with disdain. “Yes, that sounds like you. If the thought had only crossed your mind, you would have suspected me—with evidence or without it. It is your nature to blame others for your failings.”
“You were ever eager to do me a bad turn! I would not put it past you to plot the episode yourself. You would engineer my humiliation if you could.”
“I have better things to do with my time.” She again indicated a chair and he finally sat, scalding her with a look of pure hatred. Olivia, armed with the knowledge that her servants hovered watchfully nearby, addressed him with her customary calm. “There is no dark plot brewing against you, Ralph. Edith ran away because you beat her.”
“Hah!” he barked. “Then you have spoken with her. I thought as much. Is that what the jade told you?”
“She did not need to tell me. I saw the injuries you inflicted.” Olivia’s voice was even, but her hands curled into angry fists in her lap. “They were beastly. She still has not fully recovered.”
“Ho, she hasn’t, has she? She’s feeling well enough to jaunt about the town with her paramour! But you wouldn’t know anything about that, of course.” Ralph’s voice dripped sarcasm.
Olivia was bewildered. “Paramour? You’re mad. Edith has no paramour.”
His mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. “She left me for another man. Pretty picture, ain’t it? Did she enact you a tragedy? Portray herself as Innocence Wronged? Cunning little trollop! I make no doubt she did—and you fell for it. You fall for every hard luck story you hear.”
Olivia laughed with angry amazement. “Next you will tell me you never raised a hand to her.”
“I raised my hand to her, and I’d do it again,” he snapped. “I was within my rights. A man must have discipline and order in his home. She earned that punishment. Aye, and worse! It would have gone much harder with her had I known she was seeing Lord Rival on the sly.”
“What?”
“Come now, Ivy! Don’t pretend to be stupider than you are. You must have seen them together. They tell me that rakeshame is forever hanging about your precious school these days. It must be my wife—my wife, God rot her!—who brings him there.”
Olivia pressed her hands to her temples. “I don’t know whether you are running mad, or I am!” she exclaimed. “Lord Rival’s presence at the school has nothing to do with Edith. They have never even met.”
“So say you!” spat Badesworth. “The rumor is that my blushing bride is living under Rival’s protection.”
“Why, then, I can nip that rumor in the bud. She is living here with me.” The relief flooding Olivia’s soul showed her how frightened she had been by the terrible suggestion, however silly, that George and Edith had been . . . but no. It was all gossip and rumor. “I wonder how these preposterous stories get started?”
Relief did not seem to be Ralph’s predominant emotion. His face slowly turned almost purple with rage as the realization sank in that his half sister had been sheltering h
is errant wife. He sprang out of the chair in a rage, and Olivia was afraid for a moment that he was going to throttle her. Fury robbed him of speech for a few seconds, but then he launched into a blistering, profane, and largely incoherent indictment of women in general and Olivia and Edith in particular. His opinions were couched in such filthy language that Olivia had difficulty following them, but the gist of his remarks was clear enough.
“Stop! Stop!” she cried at last, covering her ears with her hands.
“Do you have her here?” bellowed Ralph. “Is she in this house at this moment? By God, Olivia, I’ll have the law on you!”
“On what charge, pray? Theft?” she retorted. “This is not the middle ages, brother, and Edith is not your chattel.”
He stalked over to her, menacing her with his sheer physical power. Ralph Fairfax was a large man, and however strong she appeared on the surface, his tantrums had frightened her since she was a child. His eyes bulged with temper, their gray irises seeming to glow eerily in his red face. Olivia swallowed hard, but managed to keep her chin high.
“I ought to throw you against the wall,” he told her, the sudden flatness of his tone filling her with terror. “I ought to horsewhip you. Teach you a lesson, by Christ. Teach you to respect the head of the family.”
Abruptly he straightened and strode toward the door, then flung it open and burst onto the landing. She saw in a flash that he meant to hunt Edith down. If he found her while in this mood, something dreadful would surely happen. Olivia ran after him crying, “Joe! William! Help, help!”
It seemed that her entire household had gathered at the foot of the stairs and was anxiously watching the landing. A sea of upturned faces parted as her footman and kitchen boy raced to answer her frantic call. Ralph tried to dash farther up the stairs, roaring his wife’s name, but Olivia’s manservants intercepted him. The kitchen boy, Joe, tackled Lord Badesworth with relish. William joined the fray more gingerly, but the two servants, uniting their efforts, were able to hold the earl.
“For shame! For shame, Ralph! Calm yourself,” Olivia exclaimed, scarce able to make herself heard above Ralph’s curses. “Must we summon the Watch? For heaven’s sake, think! Remember who you are.”
He struggled like a demented beast, glaring at her. “Hand her over,” he panted. “She’s mine.”
“I cannot let you see her, let alone take her away, so long as I fear for her safety.”
“That’s my affair, not yours. Edith is my wife, for God’s sake! You’re interfering in the private business of a man and his wife—something you know nothing about.” He shook off William’s timid hand and turned, snarling, to Joe. “Unhand me, sirrah.”
Joe’s chin jutted pugnaciously, but Olivia nodded her assent. The lad backed off with obvious reluctance. Ralph brushed off his coat sleeve contemptuously and stomped back into the morning room. Olivia gave a brisk nod to her gape-mouthed staff and they scuttled off to their various tasks. But to Joe and William she said, in a low tone, “Thank you. Please stay within earshot.” They nodded grimly. She felt a bit safer knowing that after she closed the door, they would remain on the landing outside.
Once within the morning room again she faced Ralph squarely. “Let us discuss this matter like rational creatures. You have been married for less than a year, and already it is clear that you and Edith cannot live peaceably together. Why not agree to live apart?”
He uttered an ugly bark of laughter. “I didn’t marry for a life of peace. I married because I need an heir.”
“Well, you won’t get one this way,” said Olivia with asperity. “Had Edith been increasing a month ago, the beating you gave her would have induced a miscarriage.”
“Much you know about it,” jeered Ralph. “At any rate, I’ll be damned if turn a blind eye while she’s cuckolding me. She’s not even discreet, blast her! Some men may wink at their wife’s indiscretions; I never will. There will be no mongrel blood in the Fairfax line. I’ll lock her up if I have to.”
“But this is all nonsense! Edith has no paramour. I promise you, brother, you have been misinformed.”
“Faugh! Edith was seen hanging on Rival’s arm in Chelsea. Whispers had already started when she left me. Now the rumor is all over town that she left me for Rival. I come hotfoot to London and where do I find Edith? In Chelsea, just as the talemongers said I would!” He ground his teeth. “That little bitch is dragging my name through the mud. Aye, and yours! But you don’t care for that.”
“No. Frankly, I don’t.”
The door opened and Bessie walked through it, her sharp eyes taking in Olivia’s tense, wary face and Ralph’s menacing stance. “Well, well,” she said equably. “Here’s a pleasant family gathering. How are you, Ralph? But you need not answer. I can see for myself.”
Ralph’s thick lips curled in an ugly sneer. “I forgot about you,” he said rudely. “I suppose you’ve been in the thick of things as usual, meddling in matters that don’t concern you.”
Bessie’s brows drew into a fierce line above her short nose. “If you mean protecting Edith from you, you brute, indeed I have. And I’m here now to see that you don’t browbeat Ivy.”
The top of Bessie’s head barely reached the middle of Ralph’s chest, but she was a formidable ally nevertheless. Dear Bessie! Olivia felt a rush of gratitude and affection for her cousin. She was always on Olivia’s side, come what may.
The two women formed a united front, summoned their patience, and bent all their persuasive skills to the task of soothing irascible Lord Badesworth. It took a little time, but they calmed him down sufficiently to achieve a grudging acceptance of reality, which was that Edith would not return to him unless she could be convinced, at the very least, that it was safe to do so. The longer they spoke with him, however, the more uneasy Olivia felt. It seemed clear to her that Ralph could not be trusted. Contempt simmered beneath the surface even as he pretended to agree, and she suspected that he was merely humoring them in order to get his hands on his wife again. Once he had spirited Edith away, there was no telling what he might do.
It was, therefore, with a heavy heart that Olivia eventually climbed the stairs to Edith’s chamber. It was time to add Edith’s voice to the negotiations regarding her future, but Olivia wanted to summon her personally rather than entrust the task to a servant. In the first place, Edith might very well refuse to come down—and in the second, Olivia wanted to warn her that whatever bargain they struck with Ralph, Edith should arm herself against the day when he would break it.
She tapped softly on Edith’s door. “Edith, dear. It’s Olivia.” She waited for a moment, then knocked again, louder. No answer. She frowned and tried the handle. The door was locked. “Edith, don’t be a goose. There is no one else with me. Ralph is downstairs. Open the door.”
No answer. Indeed, not a sound. Olivia did not know whether to feel alarmed or merely irritated. She rattled the iron doorknob and knocked again, beseeching her sister-in-law to let her in, but all her efforts and pleadings met with cold silence.
A few quick strides took Olivia back to the landing, where she called for assistance. Mrs. Pratt and Joe came up. Olivia convened a hasty council. Mrs. Pratt disclosed that she had given her only key to Edith, so it would not be possible to unlock the door from the outside. Joe offered to break the door down, but Olivia assured the boy that such drastic action would not be necessary. At this point in the strategy session Ralph stumped up the stairs. Bessie puffed in his wake, vainly imploring him not to rush to judgment, and the group massing outside Edith’s door swelled to five persons.
As soon as Ralph’s suspicions were confirmed—that Edith had locked the door and was not emerging voluntarily from her sanctuary—he put his shoulder to the door and, ignoring the clamor of protests from everyone else, summarily broke it off its hinges.
The entire company spilled into the darkened room. It was empty.
17
“Edith!” cried Bessie, running to check the dressing area that opened off the
bedchamber. But Ralph strode immediately to the window embrasure and flung back the floor-length draperies in one fierce movement. Behind the folds of heavy material, the window was open.
Olivia gasped. “Merciful saints! Surely she could not have left through the window?” She ran to peer out, unbelieving, and half afraid that her sister-in-law’s lifeless form would be lying on the pavement below. The pavement was bare, however, and Edith was nowhere to be seen. Something that looked like wrung laundry lay in a tangled twist on the paving stones. Her eyes could not make sense of it.
Ralph apparently recognized this object, however. Snarling, he turned away from the window and crossed to Edith’s bed, where he yanked open the bedcurtains. The bedclothes were missing.
“What on earth—!”
“She made a rope,” snapped Ralph. “Knotted the sheets and pillowslips together. Looks like it didn’t hold her all the way to the ground this time. I hope the bitch broke her neck.”
“Ralph, how can you?” cried Olivia. She ran back to the window, terrified that a closer examination would reveal blood on the ground, but she could see nothing. “Oh, why would she do such a desperate thing?”
Bessie joined her, her features drawn and worried. “Because she felt desperate, poor lamb. She thought we would hand her over to Ralph.”
“But where could she have gone?”
A crashing oath behind them made the two women turn round, startled. Ralph stood by Edith’s dressing table with a note in his hand. It had been folded and addressed on the outside to Olivia, in large enough letters to be read across the room. Joe and Mrs. Pratt instantly converged on Ralph from one side and Olivia on the other, exclaiming in outrage that he would so cavalierly read a message not meant for his eyes. He held it up above their heads, however, staring at it, then crumpled it in his fist and threw it to the floor. He was livid with rage. Bessie pounced on the crumpled note as Ralph headed for the door. Olivia seized his arm but he shook her off, cursing.
