Quiet Meg

by Sherry Lynn Ferguson

  “Chas no doubt could. But, you see, he hasn’t your intemperate thirst for blood. And then, there is that undeniable advantage I have always had over you”

  “Advantage? Hah! I can’t think what that might be.”

  “Naturally not. The advantage bein’ brains.”

  David scoffed.

  “Do you ever reflect on accidents of birth, Myles?”

  “All the time, Major-Lord-David.”

  When David retreated to superb gutter French, Chas thought it wise to yawn and open his eyes. David was staring out the window into the dark, his open flask in his hand. In the muted glow of the carriage lights, Hayden’s expression was grim.

  “I had forgotten how truly comfortable your carriage is, Hayden. I could not sleep much of last night-but I do sleep here”

  “‘Tis the springs,” Hayden claimed, yawning affectedly himself. “Sometimes the only sleep I get these days is transportin’ myself from one do to another.”

  David proffered his flask.

  “Will you have some, Chas?” As Chas shook his head, David smiled. “‘Tis just coffee.”

  “You’ve been most mysteriously sly of late, major,” Chas said, accepting the flask. “To what purpose?”

  “I cannot tell you. But ‘twill serve-I hope”

  The landscape outside had perceptibly lightened. As the carriage swayed gently, Chas settled back again into his corner, only to feel Hayden’s assessing attention.

  “You must not think of her,” he said pointedly.

  “I can think of no one else.” At Hayden’s exasperated glance, he added, “You needn’t worry. I’ve no intention of thinking at all this morning-only of acting.”

  “I cannot stress enough how dangerous this is, Chas. Sutcliffe has only the most rudimentary of principles ..

  “True,” Chas sighed. “Though I confess I cannot help but have some sympathy for the man.”

  “You are joking.”

  “No. He is risking his life. For something that is, for him, unattainable. Perhaps for me as well. In that we are alike.”

  “He does not love her.”

  “Certainly not in the way you or I would understand. But for him?” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, he cannot worship from afar. He must possess. And I cannot let him. But, yes, I sympathize, Hayden. I love Meg myself-how can I not sympathize?”

  “He is a different animal, Chas. Something quite apart. I wish you would not sympathize. He does not deserve the compliment. Consider the company he keeps. Mulmgren is not among those with hearts.”

  Chas considered Hayden’s set profile in the gray light.

  “Granted the man is unsettling. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen as ugly a smile. But why do you dislike him so?”

  “Dislike? That’s not the word.” Hayden looked down as he fussed with a cuff. Then his glance shot to David. “Mulmgren is not sound”

  “Sound?” Chas also looked to David. “We know Sutcliffe and Mulmgren are unpredictable and extreme in their interests. But what have you heard?”

  “There have been incidents,” David said. “On the Continent. Relayed by those whom I have no reason to question. Mulmgren in particular is reputed to be immoral.”

  “That might cover a host of defects”

  “He is reported to like pain, Chas,” he said abruptly. “In others”

  Chas felt the shock of that to his heart. The thought of Meg in the power of such a man filled him with revulsion. His cousins could not have devised a more direct means of strengthening his purpose.

  At last the woods cleared for a corner of the heath. They were first on the scene, giving Chas another opportunity to get his bearings. Yet as he exited the carriage, he turned to Hayden.

  “No matter what happens-you will get to Meg immediately?”

  “Immediately, Chas,” he said easily, his gaze moving to watch the carriage pulling in behind them. Lawrence and Ferrell had brought the surgeon. Thankfully, Lord De marest and George Gillen, in remarkable deference to Hayden’s wishes, had stayed behind in town.

  “You didn’t tell me, Chas,” Hayden said, observing the others as they arrived. “Apart from bein’ out of the city proper-why here?”

  “You forget I am a landscaper.” Chas surveyed the tranquil grassy clearing he had chosen. “If you can, you must see that I have the north side” He indicated that direction. “It gives me an advantage”

  “How so?”

  “Trompe l’oeil, cousin. Even that small deception might aid me” He took his leave, to stretch his legs before Sutcliffe arrived.

  The whole exercise had assumed an air of unreality, particularly here, in such an idyllic spot. The scent of fresh earth lingered after the previous day’s rain, which had also cleansed and heightened the varied tones and textures of leaves. Moisture darkened the trunks of the watchful oaks. A few birds were starting to sing. Soon, very soon, the sun would seek them out in their coverts, warming them after the night’s chill.

  Chas flexed his fingers, then tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. He should have remembered his gloves, but no matter-he would have had to remove them soon enough. And Hayden had told him not to think of Meg, though she was everything.

  As he heard carriage wheels approaching, he turned and walked back. It struck him that apart from the surgeon, who had sensibly remained warmly inside Lawrence’s carriage, his party consisted entirely of family-his own, and Meg’s. That recognition was unexpectedly fortifying.

  A pale Bertie merely nodded to him. But Ferrell beckoned Chas over to one side, even as Sutcliffe’s carriage halted. They watched Sutcliffe and Mulmgren descend and turn to speak to someone, probably his surgeon, inside.

  Chas smiled tightly at his new brother-in-law.

  “It was good of you to come this morning, Ferrell, though perhaps-impolitic?”

  Ferrell smiled back.

  “If Pitt could duel in ‘98-and Castlereagh and Canning just five years ago-mere attendance is unlikely to redound on me. But I feel I must say something impolitic.” He glanced at Sutcliffe. “Any decent man might think to spare him, Cabot. But I advise you against it. I have known Sutcliffe and the Lawrences some time. So I urge you, do not reserve your shot. Do not be so much the gentleman. Do not spare him. For he will have Margaret at any cost. And then he will kill Bertram in the blink of an eye”

  Chas drew a slow breath.

  “The back rooms of Commons must be bloodier than I’d imagined,” he said.

  “My dear brother-you have no idea.”

  At Hayden’s call, Chas turned. The mist was rising off the high grass at the edge of the woods. The first flushed pink of dawn had abandoned the clouds to filter softly into the clearing. Pointless as it would be, they were bound to make one last attempt to negotiate. He returned to Hayden, who had reviewed the rules with Mulmgren.

  I must again relay your conditions, Chas.”

  “I have only the one-that he must cease to pursue Meg. That he must leave her be”

  Hayden walked over to speak with Mulmgren, who laughed shortly and sharply, then spoke with Sutcliffe. Sutcliffe responded with a shake of his head.

  Hayden turned abruptly and returned.

  “He accepts no conditions from you, Chas. Your very existence is an affront to him. He wants you dead.”

  Chas swallowed-it would have been difficult not toand grimly accompanied Hayden to the center of the field. Even knowing how much the man hated him, even knowing that he returned the sentiment, Chas had to admire Sutcliffe’s poise. With proximity it was even more remarkable-no flush of color to his cheeks, no bead of sweat on his browno sign of anything approaching a nerve. He was clearly a proficient.

  And yet there was something there all the same, for though etiquette demanded that they not speak directly, Sutcliffe troubled to do so.

  “I pay you last respects, Cabot.”

  “Will you not yield, my lord?”

  “I will have her.”

  “You are not her choice”
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br />   “Because of you”

  Chas shook his head.

  “You were never her choice-and never will be”

  Sutcliffe’s eyes narrowed. That simple fact was, for him, the severest insult.

  As Hayden touched his arm and paced with him to his position, Chas could feel Sutcliffe’s unforgiving gaze. That gaze did not waver as Hayden repeated their final instructions.

  “Coat,” he said at last, and Chas shed his coat. The cold morning air was bracing. Then Hayden handed him the primed and loaded pistol-a beautiful instrument, silvermounted and deadly. “He is exercised,” Hayden observed.

  “Yes. Surprisingly. I think I would prefer him more so”

  “Leave it be, Chas,” he said sharply. “If you press, he will dispense with honor.” He glanced at the pistol, grasped backward and by the muzzle in Chas’s left hand. “The pistol is fine. I examined it closely. You have every reason to best him. But do not forget ..

  A shout from behind them drew their attention again to their adversaries. Mulmgren was signaling Hayden to return.

  “What is it?” Chas muttered impatiently. “What the devil is it?”

  “Calm,” Hayden cautioned, and strolled back to join Mulmgren, who was confronting an obviously discomposed Major Trent. Chas heard Hayden’s exasperated “David!” and saw David fumble to remove his sidearm, which he relinquished to Hayden. Still carrying Chas’ coat over one arm, Hayden dangled the offending weapon loosely from his free hand as he regained Chas’s side.

  “Sorry Chas,” David called out, with abashed good spirits. “Part of the kit, don’t you know. Forgot all about it “

  “Half-wit,” Hayden muttered under his breath as Sutcliffe and Mulmgren sneered. “Sutcliffe objected to the major’s sidearm. Within his rights of course .. ” He frowned as he stood there burdened with a coat and a pistol, his gaze on Sutcliffe.

  Chas could tell that something was amiss.

  “I know you, Hayden. Something troubles you”

  But Hayden grinned broadly.

  “Just realizin’-that I never said goodbye to the man”

  “Mon Dieu, if it is only that. .

  “Groundskeeper!” Sutcliffe challenged. Even from twenty paces his tone rankled. The pother over David’s pistol had emboldened him and his callous companion. “I hope you have chosen a fine plot on which to lie.”

  “I have, my lord,” Chas countered easily. “I shall lie with my new countess, Margaret, nee Lawrence”

  Sutcliffe’s shoulders tensed as though he would strike. But he clearly comprehended the truth, and Chas exulted in acknowledging it. He had nurtured the news for just such a moment, and Sutcliffe had called it upon himself. But the earl recovered quickly-more quickly than Chas would have.

  “That will only ever be in name alone, Cabot,” he bit out, and turned to speak to Mulmgren.

  Hayden leaned toward Chas.

  “You must wait ‘til I say ‘present,’” he counseled, his voice low and even. “You must not risk firing beforehand”

  “I have listened to you, Myles. I am ready”

  “Bonne chance then, Chas”

  Hayden stepped back and away from him, and Mulmgren moved from Sutcliffe’s side. Chas could feel a first, warming ray of sunlight grace his left sleeve as he grasped the butt of the pistol in his right hand and brought it around. As Hayden called “present” he turned fully to face Sutcliffe and raised his pistol. But Sutcliffe was already firing.

  Chas flinched and staggered at the sudden, sharp burn along his left shoulder. His pistol arm fell, and he glanced down numbly at his linen, aware that it was bright crimson where it should have been white. But he could see. He was standing. It would not affect his aim. And Sutcliffe had fired too early.

  Hayden moved closer.

  “Chas! You must stop-you’ve been injured ..

  “No,” he grated. “We had terms for firing-at pleasure, were they not?”

  “I cannot permit you to proceed.”

  “You have discharged your duty, Myles. Now stand clear.”

  For some reason the faint morning sunlight felt particularly hot and penetrating. Sutcliffe stood before him, relaxed, exposed. He boldly tossed his pistol to the ground.

  “You should be dead, Cabot,” he called gaily, as though it were all a joke. He was very certain-or very brave.

  “And so,” Chas countered darkly, raising his pistol again, “should you.”

  He had never drawn a truer line. He knew that even as he forced himself to look lower than Sutcliffe’s evil grin, even as pain from his shoulder radiated across his chest-where he held his breath. Do not spare him. In one quick, fluid motion he cocked the hammer and fired. But he did not see the result of his shot. Two reports, almost upon each other, cracked hard after his. A powerful blow to his left side spun him around and dropped him to his knees.

  He gasped, then blinked, and in the sudden dimness saw Hayden standing now to the right. His left arm was raised, and David’s pistol smoked in the cold air. Chas tried to say something to Myles, something about Meg, but his lips formed only a meaningless moan. Then the morning went black.

  Meg and the duchess, trying not to think or talk about the only subject worthy of either activity, sat at breakfast. Their conversation became increasingly limited, for even an ex change on the weather held all manner of import. It was not raining, yes, but it was unexpectedly cold. Meg could not help but wonder if such a thing mattered when one dueled.

  She crumbled the rest of her toast into a small heap on her plate. She had been married all of fifteen hours.

  “Ma belle, Meg … the clock will move no faster for your attentions”

  “I am sorry, Grandmere-it does seem we should have received some message by now.”

  “We will hear something very soon. Perhaps they believe they might disturb us. I am not the habitual early riser. My grandsons know this.”

  Meg tried to smile at that effort to reassure her. But the comment only reminded her that the duchess had also slept poorly.

  “I see I am too severe,” the duchess admitted. “We should not avoid what is dearest to our hearts” She opened a locket to reveal miniatures of her grandsons in younger days. Cabot was handsome even at sixteen, when his portrait had been rendered.

  They were speaking low over the tiny, framed paintings when the sound of footsteps in the hall had them turning eagerly to the door. But Lord Hayden’s look was solemn. As Meg started to rise, Hayden extended a staying hand. An awful, sinking sensation made her grateful for her seat.

  “Chas lives,” he said quickly, his gaze meeting hers. “But he has been injured-gravely. Grandmere,” he glanced at his grandmother. “‘Tis likely to be a very close thing.” He looked again to Meg as the duchess reached for her hand.

  “Where is he, Myles?” his grandmere asked, while Meg sat for a second in gratitude-or weakness.

  “David and Lawrence are with him at Dr. McCaffrey’s-the home of one of our surgeon’s associates. At Putney. ‘Twas nearby, and we determined it best that he not be moved far.” Again his gaze met Meg’s. “He took two shots”

  “Two?” she asked faintly. “How is that possible? Sutcliffe . . “

  “Is dead.” He spoke with curt satisfaction. “Mr. Ferrell came back with me to town. I left him at your aunt’s, to advise your father. I believe the sly old-I believe Sir Eustace is anxious to see you. But Miss Meg, I would ask two favors of you.”

  “I shall go to Cabot at once,” she said, rising unsteadily to her feet.

  Hayden actually smiled at her.

  “That is not one of them. In fact, I would ask that you stay here, where you might be protected. And-if necessaryremove to Braughton with Grandmere. ‘Twas Chas’ wish,” he added at her frown.

  “No doubt that was his wish, my lord. Before. But surely it no longer signifies.”

  “To the contrary. The circumstances were such that I have reason to believe you may still be in danger-of being taken, or harmed in some way”


  “How so, my lord?” Meg asked. Her need to reach Cabot was most alien to her, but undeniable. “The earl’s resources can be nothing without his direction. And you have told me he is dead.”

  “Others have acted in his stead. I am not assured that is the end of it.”

  “But I cannot simply stay here!”

  “It is one favor I would ask of you”

  “Meg, ma cherie,” the duchess said, rising to intervene. “Charles is in good hands.”

  “What is your second request?” Meg asked stiffly.

  “That you admit no knowledge of this … contretemps. Sir Eustace, and others, should not be aware of the details. ‘Tis best for all concerned.”

  “That should not be difficult, my lord. Since you deliberately withhold knowledge of this `contretemps,’ as you term it.” Her gaze challenged his. “Am I also to pretend that I have no knowledge of my husband’s injuries? Or even, perhaps, to dispute that he is my husband at all?”

  “No one hearing you, my lady, could have any doubt” Hayden gracefully nodded to her. Meg was so astonished that she stayed silent.

  “Your father will come to you here,” he added. “And your brother intends to return to town this evening. David will look after Chas. My brother-Major Trent-is unfortunately well used to the needs of the wounded, Miss Meg. Chas will have everything he ought.”

  “Not everything, Myles,” his grandmere corrected, and Meg was surprised to note the merest break in Hayden’s composure. “You will be returning to him?”

  “After I … complete a task here in town. But yes. Soon, Grandmere”

  “Then you must at least take notes from us”

  Hayden’s gaze again sought Meg’s face.

  “He is not conscious, Grandmere.”

  Meg abruptly sat back down at the table and clasped her hands. For a moment she pictured the worst, wondering how she could continue. Then she looked again to Hayden.

  “Would you now make me as much of a prisoner as Lord Sutcliffe ever did, my lord? Given the situation, your-your driblets of information are a type of torture.”

  “Yes, Myles,” the duchess agreed. “You must tell us all. Is Charles… whole? What does the surgeon say? You play the game with our hearts!”