The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London Book 3)
Page 16
“I can go.” She needed to divert her attention away from the two men fighting in the great hall. Hopefully, by the time she returned they would have put aside their differences. “The walk will do me good.”
Mackenzie shook his head. “Och, don’t trouble yourself, my lady. I’ll find time to check on her today. Besides, after the attack in your chamber, his lordship won’t want you going out alone.”
Lillian forced a smile. Mackenzie assumed she’d told Fabian about the late-night intruder. She had planned to tell him but, like Vane, his need to protect her would prove stifling.
“Have you had any luck finding the treasure-hunting rabbits?” she said in a bid to change the subject. “Did you discover who has taken to digging up the heathland?”
Mackenzie glanced back over his shoulder before bowing his head. “I’ve not mentioned it to Lord Ravenscroft yet. After what happened with Doyle, I fear he’ll distrust the men.”
“Perhaps the culprit is merely looking for a way to occupy his time until his next voyage. I imagine most sailors long for a new adventure.”
“Happen you’re right. I’ve kept watch, but even the real rabbits are too shy to show themselves.”
Mary had accompanied them on their inspection. Did she know those responsible? Had she challenged them and now hid in her cottage in fear of her life?
“Let’s hope they appear soon. I’m rather partial to Mrs Bell’s rabbit stew.”
“Aye, the woman knows—”
“There you are, Mackenzie.” Mrs Bell waddled towards them bringing the smell of cooked apples with her. “Isaac said I’d find you here.” Her mouth fell open when Mackenzie stepped aside and she spotted Lillian. Mrs Bell curtsied. “Forgive me for interrupting, my lady. What with Mackenzie’s broad shoulders, I didn’t see you standing there.”
“That’s quite all right, Mrs Bell. We were just discussing the merits of your rabbit stew.”
The woman blushed. “Well, I can’t take all the credit. My old mother’s recipe never fails to hit the spot on a chilly night.”
“You were looking for Mackenzie,” Lillian prompted, ignoring the clatter from within the hall. “Please, do not let me stop you from your work.”
“Oh, yes.” Mrs Bell peered up at the man twice her height. “You asked me to tell you should anything else go missing from the kitchen.”
Mackenzie shifted nervously.
“Things are going missing from the kitchen?” Lillian said. No one had mentioned it before. Perhaps one of the men had taken advantage of her husband’s absence. “Have you informed Lord Ravenscroft?”
Mrs Bell seemed surprised she’d asked. “Mackenzie told the master.”
“His lordship asked me to investigate,” Mackenzie replied. “But there’s been so much happening of late I’ve not got around to it.”
Mrs Bell tutted. “It’s food today but what might it be tomorrow? Once a thief always a thief, that’s what my old father used to say.”
“Why would a man steal food?” With Fabian’s wealth, surely he could afford to feed a thousand men.
“That’s what I came to say.” Mrs Bell reached into her apron pocket and removed a small metal object. “It’s not a man were looking for. I found this in the pantry.” She opened her fingers to reveal a cloak pin crafted in the shape of a thistle.
Mackenzie sucked in a sharp breath as his face grew pale.
“I might be wrong,” Mrs Bell continued, “but does this not belong to Mary?”
Mackenzie paused before finally nodding. “Aye, that’s Mary’s pin. It belonged to her grandmother. The woman came from Skye hence the design.”
“Well, I can’t see she had cause to be in the pantry,” Mrs Bell said. “Unless she was fetching something for you, my lady.”
Once the gossip mill rolled, it wouldn’t stop regardless of a person’s innocence or guilt. And while Lillian had every reason to doubt Mary’s loyalty, the distress marring Mackenzie’s usually jolly countenance forced her to lie.
“I’ve struggled to sleep while here. I sent Mary down to the pantry two nights ago. Perhaps she dropped it then.”
A flash of relief brightened Mackenzie’s face, one quickly replaced by doubt. The man was no fool. He took a matter of seconds to recall that Mary had left the castle after taking supper with him.
Lillian straightened her shoulders and took the pin from Mrs Bell’s hand. “I shall return this to Mary. In the meantime, I will assist Mackenzie in his search for the thief.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Mrs Bell clutched the ends of her apron and dipped a curtsy. “I’d best get back to my work.”
No sooner had the woman turned the corner than Mackenzie released a weary sigh. “My lady, I cannot thank you enough for defending Mary. One word about this and the men would bundle her into a rowboat and leave her to the tide.”
“You should have told me about the thefts.” What with some men digging for treasure and others helping themselves to the contents of the pantry, Lillian was beginning to doubt the men’s loyalty.
“Aye.”
“While Lord Ravenscroft and my brother are solving their dispute, we shall visit Mary.”
The fact the woman hadn’t returned to the castle since the attack in Fabian’s bedchamber, proved telling. And it was best Mackenzie was not alone when learning of Mary’s duplicity.
“Wait here while I dress,” Lillian continued. With her unkempt appearance, she looked more like a tavern wench than an aristocratic lady. “I shall be five minutes.”
Mackenzie squirmed. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but I sent Ursula to the dock on an errand. The staff here have various roles, and I didn’t think you’d be in need of her services this afternoon.”
Things at the castle were certainly different from the rigid rules in London households, though Lillian found she much preferred the simpler way of life. “Pay it no mind. I think I am more than capable of brushing my hair and tying my cloak.”
Mackenzie bowed. “Still, it was wrong of me not to consult you.”
“We are all trying to adjust to our new circumstances. Wait for me here.”
Lillian hurried to Fabian’s room. One glimpse at the drawn hangings evoked memories of their wild adventure beneath the sheets. She tidied her clothes and found sturdy shoes in the trunk. After quickly plaiting her hair so it draped in true medieval style over one shoulder, she rushed downstairs to meet Mackenzie.
She passed the Scot in the corridor.
“Forgive me for not waiting, my lady. His lordship has asked for a bottle of brandy and two glasses, some warm water and squares of linen.”
Lillian resisted the urge to throw her arms in the air and cheer. If they were drinking brandy, they were talking. She contemplated joining them but feared her presence might fuel the dying embers of her brother’s rage.
“Then I shall wait for you in the bailey.”
Mackenzie nodded and hurried away.
Lillian must have waited twenty minutes for Mackenzie though it felt like hours. He popped out into the bailey, raised his hand and informed her that he was to explain the events at Vauxhall to her brother. He apologised and said he would join her promptly.
Impatience got the better of her. It was only a matter of time before Fabian and Vane asked to see her. Perhaps she should make herself unavailable, merely to make a point. Indeed, tired of waiting for Mackenzie, she decided to visit Mary alone. The Scot knew where she was heading and could meet her at the cottages once he’d finished running errands.
Lillian was about to leave through the gatehouse when she met Ursula, carrying a wicker basket.
“My lady,” Ursula said with some surprise. “I’ve just come from the dock. A few of the men are fishing and Mackenzie sent me to bring some back for Mrs Bell.” Ursula peeled back the linen cloth to reveal their shiny silver scales.
“I’m sure Mrs Bell will be grateful.” To reach the dock, Ursula had to venture past the cottages. “Did you see Mary on your travels?”
Sailors were a stubborn lot. Then again, perhaps Mary was as devious as her husband and sought to cause mischief at every opportunity. In the past, Lillian had been far too trusting and so refused to play the gullible fool again. There was only one way to discover the truth.
“Clearly, Mary is uncomfortable here as she’s not been back for two days. Do the women feel the same way about her as the men?”
“It wouldn’t have been too bad had Mary acted differently in the beginning. She swore she knew nothing of her husband’s plans and yet she stayed away, hiding in her cottage, never seeing anyone.”
“And you think that is an admission of guilt?”
Ursula shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, my lady. But I find it strange that she stayed on the island when she has family in Truro.”
A scandal of any sort often claimed innocent victims. It tarnished a family’s reputation merely by association. Lillian understood why Mary kept away. She, too, had walked into a room only to have people stare and smirk. Some gave her the cut direct, eager to show their disdain. Cowards chose the indirect approach, pretending they’d not seen her to avoid any awkwardness.
“Has anyone spoken to Mary?” Lillian asked. “Has anyone questioned her about why she behaves as she does?”
“Most have made up their minds for themselves. They’d have put her in a rowboat back to the mainland, but his lordship refused to remove Mary from her home.” A look passed over the wench’s face when she referred to Fabian, one of admiration.
“Well, I’m on my way to visit Mary now. I shall speak to her and see what explanation she offers for her absence these last two days.” There were but a few excuses the woman could use. Most telling would be her reaction when Lillian mentioned the injury she sustained in the bedchamber tussle.
Ursula frowned. “You shouldn’t go alone, my lady.” Her gaze drifted to the cut above Lillian’s eyebrow. “After your nasty fall, you might still be unsteady on your feet. Wait while I take the basket inside and I’ll come with you.”
“Mackenzie is to accompany me when he’s finished with Lord Ravenscroft.” Knowing Fabian and Vane, they’d probably encouraged the Scot to drink with them. “As the wind has eased, and the sun is shining, I thought I’d take a leisurely stroll to the dock.”
“Isaac said we’re due a mighty downpour. I shall give the basket to Mrs Bell and keep you company until Mackenzie arrives.” Ursula pursed her lips and sighed. “I’m not saying I don’t trust Mary, but they say a sailor has the foresight of a gull for predicting storms. They sense something is wrong.”
Since the scuffle with the intruder, Lillian had spoken to all the women of the same height and build — all except Mary. Heather and Ursula showed no sign of guilt. Just like the incident with Lord Martin, was someone else manipulating events to suit their purpose? And if so why?
“Speak to Mackenzie and tell him I am heading to the cottages. If he’s occupied, then by all means, you may keep me company on the journey. But know that I intend to speak to Mary alone.” If intimidation was the problem, then Mary would say nothing in front of Ursula.
Ursula smiled. “Have no fear, my lady. You can trust me.”
Chapter Seventeen
The wind whipped strands of hair loose from Lillian’s plait as she stood on the cliff edge watching the waves crash violently on the rocks below. It was as if a sudden surge of energy had stirred the temperate waters into a frenzy. The temperature plummeted. Quick-moving clouds covered the clear sky, turning dark and threatening, eager to unleash an angry torrent on the world below.
Absorbed in the show of pure force, she failed to hear the approaching footsteps until Ursula tapped her on the arm. Swinging around in shock, Lillian stumbled back. The chalky earth crumbled beneath her feet. Ursula grabbed Lillian’s cloak and pulled her away from the edge.
“Good Lord!” Lillian clutched her chest, her heartbeat pumping hard against her palm. “You frightened me half to death.”
“I’m sorry, my lady, I thought you’d seen me coming along the path.”
“When one stares out at sea it’s easy to forget everything else exists.”
“Sometimes, sailors look at it for so long they imagine green fields instead of murky water. Many a man has plunged to his death when he all he wanted was to feel land beneath his feet.”
“When a man has a loving wife waiting at home, I imagine the months away can become tiresome.” Lillian considered the woman standing before her. Ursula had hair the colour of spun gold. The ladies of the ton paid wigmakers a small fortune for hair half as vibrant. “Are you not inclined to marry?”
“Oh, I did marry. The drunken fool stumbled into the road on his way home, and a carriage mowed him down.” An odd look passed over her face: relief, not grief. “Maybe I shall marry again one day. But I’m looking for a man with more about him.”
“Do you mean intelligence?” In that regard, Lillian counted herself lucky. Many lords had nothing but sawdust between their ears, or a brain pickled by an excessive consumption of brandy. Fabian was well-read, had ventured to lands far and wide, could converse for hours on the merits of Plato over Aristotle.
“Intelligence?” Ursula scoffed. “Forgive me, my lady, but I was talking about money.”
They both chuckled.
“When it comes to society marriages, money is all that matters.” And an unblemished reputation, of course. Still, wealth was an attribute both sexes admired. Lillian had heard many ladies say that money could render an ugly man handsome.
“The same applies to common folk, too.”
A biting chill in the air forced Lillian to gather her cloak across her chest. “Come. We should be on our way. With the impending storm, it’s unwise to linger.”
They strode in companionable silence along the clifftop path, towards the cluster of stone cottages in the distance.
“Did Mackenzie say he would join us?”
“His lordship sent him to ask Nancy to make a poultice to apply to your brother’s knuckles. I think he meant to hit his lordship’s cheek but punched the table instead.”
Lillian groaned inwardly. What would the world come to if everyone thought to solve their problems with their fists, or to mask their fear and pain by throwing insults and punches?
“No doubt we’ll be back before Mackenzie finishes running his lordship’s errands.” It suddenly occurred to her that she did not know where Mary lived. “If you direct me to the cottage you can wait here.”
“I’ll come as far as the well and wait for you there.”
Ursula led Lillian to a row of terraced cottages. They were small. Each had a weather-beaten door and one tiny window. The grey mudstone gave them a cold, rustic feel, made drearier now black clouds obscured the sun.
“It’s the one with the green door.” Ursula pointed to the middle of the row. “Take as long as you need, my lady, and I’ll keep you company on the way back. When the weather turns, it’s best not to wander about alone.”
“Thank you, Ursula.”
The lane was deserted. Some of the men worked at the dock when not at sea. Some worked up at the castle, tending to the crops and livestock. As soon as Lillian knocked the door she knew something was wrong. The door creaked open though she heard nothing but an eerie silence within.
Lillian hesitated. Perhaps Mary had taken ill, and the poor woman’s body lay cold and lifeless on the bed. She glanced over her shoulder at Ursula who immediately sensed something was amiss and came running.
“What is it, my lady?”
“The door was open.”
Ursula peered through the narrow gap into the parlour-come-kitchen. “Most of us leave our doors open.
We’re like a family, forever popping in to share supper or to borrow cheese and bread.”
The explanation sounded logical, were they not talking about Mary. “Who amongst you would want to visit Mary? You said so yourself, no one trusts her.”
Ursula nodded. “Maybe she’s gone out, and this fierce wind blew the door. Probably best we return to the castle. The heavens are about to unleash a week’s worth of rain by the look of it.”
A sudden bang from inside the cottage made Lillian gasp. “Did you hear that?”
“As I said, my lady, it’s probably the wind. Do you want me to see if Mary’s left a window open?”
The patter of footsteps drew their attention. Lillian pressed her finger to her lips before pushing the door. They crept inside and followed the sound to the only other room in the house.
A figure appeared in the doorway.
Lillian’s heart flew up to her throat.
“Heather?” Ursula said. “What are you doing here? Is this not Mary’s cottage?”
A blush touched Heather’s ashen face. “My lady! I noticed the door was open as I passed.” Did the tremor in her voice speak of guilt or nerves? “After the rumpus yesterday, I thought it odd.”
“Rumpus?” Ursula and Lillian said in unison as they exchanged curious glances.
“I heard raised voices. It went on for almost half an hour and then it went quiet.”
“Did you not think to knock and enquire after her wellbeing?” Lillian asked. Perhaps one of Fabian’s men had cause to confront Mary. Perhaps she had stumbled upon him digging for treasure.
“Folk don’t go poking their nose in where it’s not welcome.”
What she meant was she didn’t want the men to think she had sided with a traitor’s wife.
“Well, did you find anything amiss?”
“There’s a silver candlestick on the bed.” Heather glanced back over her shoulder. “You don’t think she stole it from the castle?”
A candlestick? The blood drained from Lillian’s face.
“Things have been difficult since her husband left,” Ursula added.