Lord Ravensden's Marriage

by Anne Herries

  'Sywell...' Percy frowned. 'Know that name... damned unpleasant fellow. Caught him cheating at

  cards once, never sat down with the fellow again.'

  'Did you challenge him?' Harry asked, frowning.

  'Not worth the bother, old chap. Only lost a few guineas. Unpleasant thing, calling a fellow a

  cheat...no proof, of course, just a sense of what was happening.' Percy shook his head. 'Just the

  sort of chap would murder his poor little wife! Something should be done about it. Damn it all,

  can't be allowed to get away with that sort of thing. It ain't sporting, what?'

  'We are going to try to discover the truth,' Olivia said, smiling at him. 'Would you help us, sir?'

  She tipped her head to one side, looking so charming that Percy coloured. 'Obviously neither

  Beatrice nor I can search alone—but if you would accompany me, Harry can protect my sister.'

  Percy was irrevocably devoted to Lady Dawlish, but not above a little flattery from a pretty young

  woman. 'Delighted, m'dear. Of course I wouldn't dream of letting you go alone...if that wretched

  fellow is about you will need someone to take care of you, see you come to no harm. Delighted to

  be of service.'

  'Thank you, I knew you .would not desert me,' Olivia said, and received a wicked smile from

  Harry as payment for her subterfuge.

  Beatrice was a little shaken by this revelation of her sister's society manners. Olivia was clearly

  nowhere near as vulnerable or as innocent as she had imagined. Her startled eyes flew to Harry,

  who very reprehensibly winked at her.

  'And I shall make it my business to see that Beatrice comes to no harm,' he said, clearly well

  satisfied with the situation. 'So...when do we commence the search?

  'In the morning,' Beatrice said. 'It would not do on a Sunday. Besides, I must see to the dinner. I

  shall have wine and biscuits sent in to take the edge off your hunger...'

  She saw Lord Dawlish send a startled glance at Harry—she could not think of him as anything

  else since he had forced her to use his name!—and went away, smiling to herself. No doubt

  Harry's friend would think this a very unusual household...

  Chapter Seven

  Beatrice sat at the window of the room she shared with Olivia and gazed out into the darkness.

  Her sister was sleeping, but she had found it impossible to rest, and she dare not venture down to

  the kitchen in her dressing-robe again, not while they had guests staying.

  Outside, the moonlight was turning all to silver, bathing the lawns, trees and hedges in its gentle

  glow. Beatrice could not help thinking of the evening just past, how pleasant it had been to have

  company in the house—the kind of company that she found so amusing. Both Lord Dawlish and

  Harry were great wits in their own way, though she had begun to sense that Harry went much

  deeper than anyone supposed. However, he was careful not to show his thoughts too plainly, and

  everyone had spent much of the evening jesting at each other's expense. Indeed, they had been a

  merry party.

  Once, she had looked up to see Harry watching her, and the look in his eyes had made her heart

  stop and then race madly on. She smiled at her own thoughts, which were far from what a modest

  young woman's ought to be.

  Her smile faded a little as her thoughts turned to the search they intended to make of the Abbey

  grounds. She knew that Olivia was convinced the young Marchioness had been cruelly murdered,

  but the idea seemed appalling to Beatrice.

  How lonely the young Lady Sywell must have been, trapped in that great brooding house alone

  with her monstrous husband. Beatrice had never truly thought about it before, but now she felt guilt

  strike her to the heart. How unkind they had all been! Perhaps if some of the villagers had tried to

  make friends with her, instead of condemning the marriage... they might have brought comfort to

  that poor woman.

  Sighing, Beatrice forced the unhappy thoughts from her mind and went back to bed. She must get

  some rest or she would be too tired to do anything in the morning.

  'Somewhat neglected, ain't it?' remarked Lord Dawlish as the four conspirators gathered at the

  Western gate of Steepwood Abbey the following morning. 'Odd sort of place. Almost a wasteland

  by the look of things, a little sinister, what?' He patted the small but deadly pistol he carried in his

  capacious coat pocket as if to reassure himself.

  'Beatrice and I will walk towards the lake,' Harry said. 'At least we have a good morning for it, no

  sign of mist or rain. I doubt the grave, should there be one, will be near the Abbey. Too obvious in

  open ground. No, I believe we should concentrate our search elsewhere.'

  Percy glanced round doubtfully. Well enough to speak of searching in the comfort of a warm

  parlour over a good brandy, but where to begin in what looked to him very like a wilderness?

  'Not sure this was such a good idea, Harry.'

  'Courage, mon brave!' Harry said and smiled. 'It is a daunting prospect, but reflect, we are simply

  out for a walk to take the air. Apparently there is only one servant left in the Marquis of Sywell's

  employ. It is unlikely that we shall be troubled by anyone— and you know what to say if you

  should be challenged.'

  'You and Olivia should try looking in the old herb garden,' Beatrice said. 'It is sadly overrun but

  still rather lovely, and peaceful. The walls have crumbled in places—but it is not so unpleasant as

  some of the outhouses, or as dangerous. Many of the older buildings are in danger of falling

  down.'

  'Herb garden, you say? That sounds more the thing, Miss Olivia.' Percy looked more cheerful. It

  was a bright morning, the sun making the idea of such a walk quite pleasant, and they were all

  well wrapped up against the wind. He offered his arm to Olivia. 'At least it should be easy enough

  to spot if the ground has been disturbed. The whole estate has gone wild... disgraceful neglect!'

  'Shall we?' Harry offered his arm as they began to stroll in the opposite direction to their

  companions. 'Percy is right, you know. This plan was conceived in a spirit of adventure, but it

  will not be as easy to carry out as Olivia imagined.'

  'My sister has not lived here since she was a child, and can have no idea what the grounds were

  really like,' Beatrice said. She had not taken his arm, she dare not, lest she betray herself. 'My

  mother's brother adopted her, as you may know. She was too young to understand why she was

  being taken from her mother, and she sobbed when they carried her away. It was heart-wrenching,

  so cruel. I have never forgotten the look of reproach in her eyes.'

  'But you understood.' Harry's brows arched. 'It must have been a sad wrench for you, to lose your

  sister.'

  'And for my parents. Mama wept for days. I have never really understood why she agreed.

  Unless...I believe Lord Burton may have paid some of poor Papa's debts. Oh, dear, that sounds

  terrible! But I think Mama truly believed it was for Olivia's own good.'

  'As perhaps it was,' Harry suggested. 'Olivia has had many advantages you have not.'

  'Yes, perhaps so, in some ways. We did not see her again for a long time, and when Lady Burton

  brought her to see us she seemed quite happy. It was only when she was about fourteen that she

  began to write to me, though I had written to her from the moment they took her from us. I believe,

  for several
years, she was happy enough in her own way.'

  'I am sure she was,' Harry said. 'Olivia has been spoiled and petted. I believe Lady Burton at least

  is genuinely concerned about what has happened. Indeed, I suspect it may have broken her heart.'

  'Yes, I suppose it must be an unhappy time for her. It is a pity her husband could not have shown

  more compassion.'

  'I dare say he felt Olivia had let him down. Burton is a proud man—and he had given her

  everything she could possibly want in a material way.'

  'Yes, of course. I do see that—but I think if he had truly cared for her, he might have been kinder.

  Papa would never cast me off, whatever I did.'

  'Perhaps Burton's disappointment was all the stronger, because he had lavished so much attention

  on her?'

  Beatrice looked thoughtful as they approached what must once have been 'a collection of cottages

  used by those who served at the Abbey during the time of the monks. Some of them had tumbled

  down, allowing moss and brambles to grow through the debris. Over the centuries they had been

  rebuilt and repaired many times, until these past eighteen years when they had been allowed to fall

  into decay.

  'Yes, I am sure of it. But you know, I have been truly loved. I do not think that was the case for my

  sister—for I am convinced that if they had loved her as they ought, they could not have treated her

  so shabbily now.'

  Harry nodded, but made no further comment. His eyes went over the huddle of ruins with

  contempt.

  What kind of a landowner allowed such wanton waste? He himself had vast estates, which took a

  great deal of management, but he would have been shamed to see such a sight on his land.

  Beatrice saw his look and nodded. 'These have not been lived in for years. No one born locally

  would come to work or live here after the Marquis's reputation was known. He brought in

  servants from town for some time, but none would stay long. Even if he wanted to repair his

  buildings, he would not find anyone here who would work for him.'

  'They look as if a good storm would blow them down,' Harry said, frowning at the hovels. 'I shall

  make a closer inspection. Wait here, Beatrice. I would not have you risk yourself.'

  'I am not a child, sir. If you imagine I shall hinder you...'

  'Acquit me of such thoughts,' Harry urged. 'Come if you must, but take care. The stones are loose

  and the ground uneven. I would not have you stumble and injure yourself.'

  'Go ahead and I shall follow,' Beatrice said, picking her way over rubble and tufts of grass which

  had grown up between. A rabbit had started up ahead of them. She wondered suddenly if this was

  where the rabbits that appeared so mysteriously in her larder came from. It would certainly solve

  the mystery of the lights in the woods. 'Something has occurred to me, my lord,' she said as she

  caught up to him. 'I believe Bellows may know these grounds much better than any of us.'

  'Now why didn't I think of that?' Harry murmured, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. 'That was

  an excellent rabbit pie we had last night...' He looked up as a pigeon fluttered out of one of the

  ruined cottages and flew off. 'And those pigeons in red wine...quite delicious, and in plentiful

  supply, one would imagine.'

  Beatrice frowned. 'I should have guessed long ago where Bellows was snaring his game, but it

  was useful and I suppose I did not wish to enquire too closely.'

  'A resourceful man, our Bellows. I believe I shall take him into my confidence.' Harry raised his

  brows. 'You think his loyalty beyond doubt?'

  'He has not been paid in three years,' Beatrice confessed. 'I tried to pay him something last

  Christmas, but he declares he will wait until my father makes his fortune. Which, I dare say, may

  be never.'

  'Oh, I don't know,' Harry murmured wickedly. 'Percy was very taken by your father's idea for

  gravity heating. Dawlish Manor is very large and very cold. Percy won't go near it in winter.'

  'Oh, I do hope Papa will not persuade him to let him try his experiments at Dawlish Manor. I

  believe it might prove quite expensive, and not at all what Lord Dawlish would expect.'

  There was no sign of any suspicious mounds in the ruins of the cottages. After a few minutes, they

  continued their walk towards the barns and outhouses that had made up part of the monks' working

  community. During the years of the Yardleys' ownership these had been kept in good repair and

  used for storing produce from the various tenant farms that still belonged to the Abbey, but the

  barns too had been allowed to rot and there were gaping holes in the roofs. Some had no more

  than a wall left standing.

  There was somehow a sinister air about the place, an oppressive atmosphere that hung over the

  huddle of ruins, the smell of age and decay—almost of evil. It was as if a curse lay over

  everything.

  Beatrice shook her head at the thought. It was a foolish one, and should be dismissed at once.

  After searching for some half an hour or more, Beatrice and Harry could find no sign of anyone

  having been near for years. They were reasonably satisfied that there was no grave to be found

  here.

  Leaving behind the depressing huddle of rotting buildings, they began to walk towards the lake.

  Here there was a gentle undulation in the land, as in much of the county, and they climbed towards

  the rise, then breasted it to gaze down on the lake lying below. Even the years of neglect could not

  take away the beauty nature had bestowed on the scene spread before their eyes.

  The waters of the lake were grey, reflecting the sky above, but there was a patch of silver far out

  where the sun had broken through and the surface rippled. Trees gathered about the banks,

  willows, stunted and shaped by the hand of a cruel wind, reed-beds sheltered water-birds, and

  beneath the water fish swam, lazily content.

  'I have never stood here like this before,' Beatrice said. 'Whenever I venture on to Abbey lands,

  which is not often, I always use the shortest route from Steep Abbot to Abbot Giles, and I do not

  stand and stare. It is very beautiful here...do you not think so?'

  'This must once have been a fine estate,' Han-y remarked. 'How came it into the hands of its

  present owner?'

  Beatrice began the story, telling it as she had to her sister on the night of Olivia's homecoming, and

  in this manner they continued to walk, enjoying each other's company, thinking more of how

  pleasant it was to spend time in this way than anything else, yet taking note of all they saw.

  And so it was that they spent nearly three hours exploring, without seeing anything that was in the

  least suspicious, entirely at one with each other and well content. If in the process they came to

  know each other's thoughts a little better, then that made the exercise all the more worthwhile.

  It was as they retraced their steps towards the Abbey that they suddenly saw someone coming

  towards them. He was tall, thin, dressed in black, and even before they could see his face clearly,

  Beatrice knew him.

  'It is Solomon Burneck,' she said to Harry. 'He will know me...'

  Harry nodded. He linked his arm firmly with hers and went forward to meet the Marquis's servant.

  'Good morning, sir,' Harry said pleasantly. 'Forgive me, I believe we are trespassing here?'

  'You are on the lands of Steepwood Abbey, which is the estate of my master the
Marquis of

  Sywell,' Solomon replied, his narrow set eyes flicking to Beatrice and then back to Harry, who

  was so obviously a gentleman. 'May I enquire your business, sir?'

  'Ravensden,' Harry said. 'Miss Roade and I were out walking my dog and the wretched creature

  gave us the slip and ran in here. I am afraid we came to look for her. We should perhaps have

  called at the house to ask permission, but we thought to find her before we could be a trouble to

  anyone.'

  'A dog?' Burneck's expression did not waver. He knew true breeding when he met it, as well he

  might, and this man was clearly of noble birth. 'May I enquire what kind of a dog, sir?'

  'A wolfhound,' Harry replied. 'A great, foolish creature but of the sweetest temper. I do not

  suppose you have seen her this morning?'

  'The way of transgressors is hard,' said Solomon, his expression unreadable. 'There are many

  places where a creature might lose itself in this wilderness. It is a place of abomination in the

  eyes of the Lord. I fear the curse of ages past is upon this land, and those who usurp the rightful

  destiny of others.'

  'Yes, quite,' Harry murmured, only the flicker of an eyelid giving Beatrice a clue to his thoughts at

  being addressed in this manner. 'Well, we must trespass no more. We can only hope the foolish

  creature will find its way home.'

  'A living dog is better than a dead lion. Ecclesiastes, chapter nine, verse four,' Solomon

  announced, suitably grave. 'God shall punish the unjust and at the final judgement all men shall be

  equal in the sight of the Lord. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.'

  'Yes, you are quite right, it is very true,' Harry said and coughed behind his hand. 'But one must

  hope for the poor creature's sake that nothing too terrible has overtaken her.' He turned to

  Beatrice, his eyes alight with wicked mirth. 'Come, Miss Roade. I believe we must delay this

  gentleman no longer.'

  Beatrice inclined her head to Solomon Burneck. She dare not utter a word lest she have a fit of

  giggles. She managed to contain herself until they had left the narrow lane leading from the Abbey

  grounds, emerging into a wider road that led either to the village or up the slope to Roade House,

  then she turned on Harry.