His own patience at an end, he strode over to the door. With a strangled oath, Royce demanded, “John, you head up things at the hall. The rest of the servants and the villagers are going to search for my wife. Let every man jack of you take a section and start the hunt. My secretary, Charles, will assign the areas to each group.”
Royce spied the butler and demanded, “Bring Littleton to my library. I’ll question him personally.”
When Littleton marched into the room, Royce raised his brows. He allowed his features to stiffen into a threatening mask. “Let’s forego the niceties. I’ll come straight to the point. What have you done with Bethany?”
“Are you as daft as my tart of a niece?” Arthur’s face reddened and his eyes gleamed with malice. “Now that you’ve married her against my wishes, I’m no longer responsible for her wild actions.”
“Indeed, you are no longer in charge of her or her property. All is in my keeping.”
Arthur chortled. “Fine job you’ve done of it so far, losing the little bitch first thing.”
Rage flashed through Royce like lightning splitting the atmosphere during a storm. With intended menace in every movement, he stepped closer to Arthur and growled, “Keep your foul mouth off of my wife or I’ll shut it for you. Now sit yourself down and listen.”
He waited until Arthur subsided and dropped into a chair. “You are to empty your pockets onto the desk.”
“What’s this?” Arthur blustered.
“All the gentlemen are required to display the contents of their pockets. You’re no different.”
Arthur glared from beneath his lowered brows. “I didn’t take the ring. Why would I?”
“Why not? I’m certain you’ve feathered your nest with Bethany’s funds for years.”
Arthur fished every item out of his pockets and with careful deliberation thumped each piece down on the desk. His face purpled with rage, and he curled his hands into fists with impotent fury. “Everything should have been mine,” he bellowed. “I’ve given the best years of my life caring for that little . . . chit and her property,” he lamented. “I’ve been like a father to her and this is my reward.”
Royce stiffened. “If you really received your just reward, you’d wind up in Hell with your back broken. Repayment for some of the hell you dished out to a helpless child.”
“Ha. That over-proud little bitch deserved every lash she received.”
“I won’t warn you again.” Royce narrowed his eyes and deepened his voice to a threatening level.
Arthur tried for control. “She is old-headed. Always has been older than her few years, thinking and scheming against her betters and stubborn to the point beyond reason.”
“You’re not her better,” Royce countered. “With your treatment of her, what did you expect?”
Arthur raved. “I expected her to give in, to obey. I didn’t kill the little bitch. For that, you should be thankful.”
Royce bolted out of his chair, and without holding back, punched Arthur in the mouth. “You were warned. You’d better hope and pray she is unharmed. If I find you had anything to do with her disappearance or the attempts on her life, you shall be held accountable. You are under suspicion by the Bow Street Runners even as we speak.”
Arthur swiped at the blood trickling out of his nose and sputtered through his split lip, “I’ve done nothing. I resent your implications I acted otherwise.” He waved his hand towards his possessions. “As even you can plainly see. No ring.” He continued to rave. “I’ll gladly leave Birdelwood Estates and that little defiant . . .,” his voice trailed to a halt. He hesitated, cast a belligerent glare at Royce, and spewed, “In your clumsy hands.”
“A wise decision to keep your filthily mouth off my wife. But you are not free to go without the inventory and the records down to the last bucket on the home farm. And not your records, but the set you required Bethany to keep,” he continued, “in her hand writing, I might add.”
Arthur nodded, too furious to speak.
Royce narrowed his lids. “I intend to join the search for my wife. When the guests are allowed to leave, a guard and my man, Wilks, shall accompany you. Wilks is responsible for taking a new inventory. I expect you to fully cooperate. Be warned.”
He quit the room, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter 33
Frantic with worry and rage, Royce rode around the lake as if demon possessed. The moon reflected on the smooth surface of the water, deep and still as death. He pulled his horse to a halt and leaned forward, searching the edges of the woods. He shouted, “Bethany.”
No whisper of wind disturbed the silence while he surveyed the scene, listening for a sound. Only the squeak of his saddle bore witness to his tense posture. His chest burned with pent-up breath, and he clutched the reins until the leather dug into his fingers. He listened and called again, “Bethany.”
Still, he could find no trace of her. He beat back despair and continued to search. No. This could not be happening. Bethany isn’t in the lake. He’d search until he found her—every trail, every path, if necessary. He rode down another track, hard to locate beneath the trees.
When he finally halted in front of the stable to exchange his horse, he stumbled when he dismounted. Blasted hole—he wasn’t that fatigued. Too numb to be aware of how much his body ached for rest, he pushed himself onward. He couldn’t quit until he had his wife back safe and sound.
His great mount trembled from so many long hours of exertion. Lather covered the stallion’s flanks and his nostrils were extended. He shook his big head when a stable lad took his bridle.
“Rub him down and give him extra feed. He deserves it.” Royce headed toward the back of the house. Over his shoulder, he said, “Saddle Golden Boy for me. I’ll be back shortly.”
Wiping moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand, Royce murmured, “Lord, point the way. Help me find Bethany.”
Drawing a shuddering breath, he entered the house. Much to his chagrin, he found Freddy ensconced in the parlor, sipping tea at his leisure. Royce would find great pleasure in slamming his fist into Freddy’s nose with a nice, flush hit. He fought the urge to plant the fribble a facer merely for existing.
Sara bounded up at Royce’s appearance. A frown of concern pleated her brows. “Any news?”
With his throat so constricted by despair, Royce could barely swallow, much less answer with any degree of composure. He paused on the threshold and shook his head.
Freddy cleared his throat and stammered, “Dreadful, dreadful business.” He fortified himself with another sip from his cup. “Naturally I’d like to help. Any service. Any service a ‘tall, I assure you.”
With a dismissing grimace, Royce stared at him. Drinking tea is certainly helpful. He wanted to shout at Freddy, but he didn’t.
The knocker sounded and Royce glanced toward the hall. Hope struggled to gain ground while his senses became alert. Perhaps some trace of Bethany had been discovered. Even so much as a shred of evidence would sustain him. His heart sank when he viewed the downcast expressions worn by Maggie and her husband. Obviously the couple had come longing for good tidings, not to offer the same.
Maggie held a handkerchief to her eyes. With a comforting arm around her shoulders, Ed guided her steps into the parlor. She gazed at Royce with an anxious look on her face. “Lord Rivton, have ya heard anything of my baby, my little lamb?”
He simply shook his head.
Pale and clearly distraught, Maggie blew her nose.
Sara invited, “Be seated, please. Would you or your husband care for tea?”
Maggie settled in a chair. “Yes, thank you. A spot of tea does a body good.” After mopping up her tears, she straightened her shoulders and gave the group a tentative smile.
Sara grimaced. “The doctor recommended a cal
ming cup of tea, possibly to keep me out of his way while he cared for Sir John’s man. He’s on watch through the night.”
“I’m glad ‘tis quiet again,” Maggie stated. “I never in all my born days saw such a kick up as folks done. Sakes alive, you’d think the killer hisself ask ‘em to strip. Glad I was to see the last of ‘em climbing in their carriages.” She took a deep breath and slowly surveyed the occupants of the chamber with a shrewd, measuring glance. Quickly accepting her tea, she averted her gaze and swallowed a mouthful.
Freddy placed his cup on a nearby table and rose to his feet. “I’d best be on my way. Such bobbery. It’s not what a body is used to. If you will excuse me, I’ll say good night and meet the relief crew here in the morning.”
“All help is appreciated,” Royce acknowledged. He happened to glance at Maggie. Her gaze riveted to Freddy’s back and held a great deal of disdain while he exited the room. She obviously held a low opinion of Freddy, similar to his own.
“Was he at the ball?” Maggie motioned toward the doorway.
Sara frowned. “I don’t recall seeing him even once during the evening.”
Maggie peered at the others and charged, “He tain’t no good man.”
Royce sat a little straighter and gazed at her intently. A memory surfaced. Bethany’s faith in Maggie’s instincts about people whirled in his mind. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“His eyes. Shifty. Along with that weak chin.” She shook her head. “Tain’t good. He’s not to be trusted.”
Alarmed, Royce wondered if she had hit on something of importance. Had she discerned something no one else recognized about Freddy? Most viewed him as an inept nonentity. Royce jumped to his feet, rushed over to the writing desk in the corner, and quickly dashed off a note on a scrap of foolscap.
“Ollie,” he called. When the butler appeared at the door, Royce handed him the message. “See to it Wilks receives this note at once. He’s over at Birdelwood Manor.”
The butler accepted the note and exited the room.
Maggie nodded with a satisfied air. “That’s the ticket, milord. Up to every move, you are.” She added with motherly concern, “Now, you need to rest a spell afore you search again. It’ll do my lamb no good if ya collapse on us.”
Royce sank into the wingback chair by the fireplace and laid his head on the back. “I failed her. I was the one to place her in danger, in fact. I thought she’d be safe married to me,” he choked out, staring into the grate.
“Stop lashing yourself. She was in powerful danger afore she married you. You did keep her safe ‘til now.”
He read encouragement in her eyes, but he leaned his face into his hands. “Until now isn’t good enough.”
Maggie snapped, “You’re the Divine now, is it? Always thinking you’re the only one as knows best, ‘tis the problem.”
Annoyed, Royce shot her a hard glare. “I’ve learned my lesson and learned it well. My brother’s death taught me that much.”
Maggie returned his glare and raised her voice. “Being determined and strong-willed tain’t a bad thing. It’ll keep you steady ‘til ya find my baby.”
He sank back in his chair. She has the right of it. I’m not God. Still the old busybody had no call to dress me down, or to cut up my character here in my own house, either. With an inward smile, he pictured her facing down a wolf in its den for her sweet lamb. He owned he found comfort in that part of her character.
Try as he may, he couldn’t control every circumstance, and her complaint stemmed from his effort to accomplish exactly that. In the past, he had been inclined to expect control or know the reason why. It’s his nature. He would never abandon the search for his wife. If only he could discern his next move. Which direction should he take to further the search?
A moment later, Linda tottered into the parlor. “I had to come. I couldn’t bear the waiting, the not knowing.”
Maggie patted the cushion beside her on the settee. “Come, child. Sit by me.”
“Any word yet?” Linda’s voice trembled.
In a low voice Sara uttered, “Nothing so far. Should you be out? That fall injured your head rather severely.”
Linda touched her head and winced. “I have a slight headache, but I couldn’t remain at home not knowing.”
A noise in the hallway caught everyone’s attention. Hopkins stumbled into the room with blood coating his shoulder and plopped into the nearest chair. He ducked his head. “Milord, I failed ye.”
Royce sprang to his feet and rushed to his batman. “Hopkins, what happened to you? There’s blood and you look devilish green about the gills.”
“I was knifed.” Hopkins grimaced. “I swooned away like a girl with her laces too tight.” He glanced at the ladies. “Beg pardon.”
“Here, let me take a look,” Royce instructed and began to unbutton Hopkins’ jacket. “Who stabbed you?”
“I didn’t see who done it.” He pointed to Linda. “The vicar’s daughter being on the balcony with that Laurent bloke, I took a gander at ‘em. I only had my eyes off Lady Rivton for a single minute. When I looked back at her, she was making her way through the crowd to me. Next thing, a blade was stuck in my back.”
Linda’s fingers trembled against her throat as if to still the hammering of her pulse. “I didn’t hurt poor Hopkins. I could never do such a thing.”
Maggie rose and moved over to Hopkins’ side. “Ed went to fetch the doc. Let me sees what I can do ‘til then.”
Royce stepped back. “Much obliged.”
The flash of Linda’s ring caught Hopkins’ attention. “If it wasn’t ye, what ye a doin’ with the ring?”
Royce stared at her. Blister it. The ring. He forced air into his chest with a long breath. Unable to control the blazing emotion in his voice, he hissed, “Where did you come by that ring?”
Linda glanced at her hand and up at him. Her voice shook as she stammered, “It’s my betrothal ring. Laurent presented me with it last night—in this very house.”
“Explain,” Royce snapped.
“After I fainted, Bethany went missing. When I came to, he slipped it on my finger.” She sighed. “He didn’t even have a chance to kiss me before Mr. Stanshaw and the maid were discovered. With all of the confusion, I didn’t have a moment to even admire the ring or show it off. My head hurt so badly, I could think of nothing besides my bed.”
Royce crossed the room and raised her hand for a better look. “Just as I suspected. This is the ring I had on display. It belonged to the murdered girl.”
Linda snatched her hand back and wailed, “No. You must be mistaken. Laurent gave me this ring, my betrothed. This is my ring.”
Sara peered closely at Linda’s hand and shook her head. “My dear, I studied the ring for a long while and that is the stolen band.”
Royce stared down at her. “When you fainted, everyone ran to discover what had caused the maid to lose her wits. The ring was taken then.”
Linda began to weep. She rocked back and forth sobbing into her hands. “No. That can’t be true.”
John strode into the room. “What’s amiss?”
“Laurent Harcourt stole the ring,” Royce explained. He pointed to Linda and her woe-be-gone, tear-streaked face.
“Perhaps he did,” she wailed. “But he didn’t take Bethany. He was with me.”
John studied her for a second. “There is that to consider, but since he stole the ring, he is guilty of much.” He surveyed the group. “What happened to Hopkins?”
“Someone sank a blade into me. That’s what,” Hopkins answered, peeking around Maggie and her ministrations.
Royce grimaced. “Someone tried to murder him so Bethany would be easy prey.” He began to pace. His gut roiled with fear for his wife, and he found it hard to concentrate on the current probl
em. “We know Harcourt took the ring. He gave it to Linda to make certain the ring left with her. Did he stab Hopkins as well?”
“He didn’t stab anyone. He was with me, I tell you. There was a dust up about Bethany’s disappearance at the time,” she cried. “You dashed off. That’s when he slipped the ring on my finger.”
“It would seem he has an accomplice.” Royce gritted his teeth. Two such villains and he didn’t have a clue where to find either of them. Harcourt had taken the ring under his very nose. “Do you know where Laurent went?”
“No. I don’t know,” she whimpered.
John rubbed his forehead. “Linda, you were his safest bet to smuggle the ring out of the house. You weren’t searched because of the bash to your head. Everyone else had to submit to a search.”
Linda sank back in the chair. “I knew it was too good to be true. My impossible dream, that someone as charming as Laurent would want to marry me, a vicar’s daughter.” Her face crumpled again. “He so dashing, a handsome Frenchman wanting me.”
Maggie chimed in, “On the outside, I agree with you, but he tain’t pretty on the inside where it counts.”
In a weak voice Linda added, “When he took me to see his dying sister, I began to have doubts. Three other women came in while I was there, and he failed to introduce me as his future bride. In fact, he didn’t introduce me at all. But I recognized one of them—Mary Rose Breen. I began to wonder, but the ring. I thought it meant my fears were groundless.” She drew the ring from her finger and handed it to Royce. “I wanted it to be true.”
Royce could only stare as a blast of rage ran through him. Between his teeth, he gritted out, “You knew Laurent was Joliet’s brother and you said nothing?”
A Lady's Vanishing Choices Page 27
