The Truth About Lady Felkirk

by Christine Merrill

  ‘I looked,’ she admitted, as though it were some guilty secret. ‘But there was no mention of the other man. The murdered one, I mean.’ Then she added in a strangely cool voice, ‘I should have thought such a thing was worthy of more notice.’

  ‘The household was far too distraught to deal with the situation as it should have,’ Will admitted. ‘And our mother was an excellent woman, but scatterbrained in such things as record keeping and correspondence. I am not surprised that she did not tell Adam at all.’

  ‘But you knew of it,’ she said. ‘Even though you were sick.’ She was looking from one to the other of them intently. ‘I gather the robber was not caught.’

  ‘Robber?’ he said. He could not remember if he had mentioned the circumstances.

  She glanced around her. ‘In a place such as this, the motive must have been robbery.’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ After so much pretended apathy, it was a surprise that such a gruesome tale drew her interest. Or perhaps it was not so surprising. Will had to admit, this particular story was a mystery to him as well. There was something about it, itching and scratching at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was the effort of looking so far into the past that gave him a pain in his head. ‘I do not remember many of the details either,’ he admitted. ‘I heard only bits and pieces of the story myself and was far too sick to care for most of it.’ Then he smiled, for he was sure this would interest her. ‘But I will tell you one thing that I am sure the family did not write down. I was the one who found the body. I do not remember very clearly.’ He glanced at the others in apology. ‘That seems to be my excuse for so many things lately. But I was near to lost in the fever, the night the crime occurred. My nurse had fallen asleep and I wandered from bed, looking for something to cool me. The doctor had forbidden that I have ice in my water.’ He shook his head, trying to remember. ‘I went through the kitchen, down the hill towards the ice house to get some. It is lucky I did not fall into the river and drown myself, for we are very near to it now.’

  ‘And you found a dead man?’ Now Justine’s eyes were wide with shock.

  ‘Or near dead. I seem to remember him speaking to me.’ Will frowned again. ‘Although I cannot remember what it was he said. That was probably part of the delirium. He was quite cold when they found him. It took some time for me to get back to the house, and to persuade the family that there was, indeed, something to find here.’ He glanced around him, pacing off the space. ‘No. Here. Almost exactly. I remember standing beneath this tree and seeing a raven on the branch above me.’

  ‘A raven,’ Adam said sceptically.

  Will shrugged. ‘It was probably another symptom of the fever. The raven screamed and dropped a crown at my feet, then it flew away.’ There was that moment of blankness again, where he felt that there was something important that he should remember, but could not.

  Then Adam laughed, ‘You saw King Arthur? In our wood?’

  Will looked to his wife again, who was watching him with round eyes, totally confused. ‘Wales is the land of Arthur, my love. If you like fanciful tales, I will read to you of him some night. But there is a legend that he was transformed when he died, and became a raven.’

  ‘Or was buried in a cave. Or taken to Avalon,’ Adam supplied unhelpfully. ‘There are many stories about what happened to him. But I think we can guess what my little brother was reading, on the night he went wandering in the woods.’

  At this, Will laughed himself, then offered up a moment of silence for the poor lost man. ‘And here I am, twenty years later, with a head full of nonsense. But that is all I know of the story.

  ‘If you are worried, you needn’t be. Adam’s lands are quite safe. Even in my father’s time, such a crime was the exception, not the rule. This is the only instance I can recall where the perpetrator was not captured and dealt with.’

  ‘You can recall?’ she repeated. For a moment, the look of doubt in her eyes was replaced with a sceptical glint.

  It was so out of character with her usual passive nature that he laughed. ‘We both know how well I can trust my memory. But you can trust me when I tell you that you may walk these paths in safety, day or night, and you will have nothing to fear. Now let me take you up into the saddle and I will give you a ride back to the house, so you do not ruin your slippers in the mud, or misstep and slip down the bank and into the pond. The water on this side is clear as glass and very deep. Perfect for swimming in summer, if you enter on the opposite bank, near Adam’s house. But here, it is better for cutting ice. At Christmastime, we will come with skates and you shall see.’

  Then he mounted his horse again and scooped his wife up to ride in front of him, so he might point out other, less morbid landmarks of her new home.

  * * *

  Back in her room, Justine glanced down at the mess she had made of her day dress and slippers scuffling around in the leaves of the forest. She had been a fool to go out before ascertaining the location of her husband and the duke. But in his note, Montague had advised that he would meet her near the oak at the head of the village path, should there be news. Until she was sure that Margot was safe, she must at least pretend to obey and make a daily visit to the spot.

  Did he know he was directing her to the very place were the murder had occurred? She shivered again. This had been the first morning in ages where her father’s death had not been her waking thought. To lie in Will’s bed, for even a few minutes, thinking of nothing but the night before was an unimaginable liberty. It could not last, of course. After breakfast, she was back to playing Montague’s spy.

  She had made her way to the rendezvous point with the hope that she would soon be free of him. Then, out of nowhere, the past had come to remind her of her duty. She must go there again and search more thoroughly.

  It had been years, of course. No trace of evidence could have remained. If there were truly diamonds to be discovered, they would not be stuck in a hollow tree where anyone might see them. But she knew she would return to the place, even so. She would not be able to help herself.

  It had been even more foolhardy to encourage Will to remember. He might just as well have said, ‘Of course. How could I forget Hans be Bryun, the diamond merchant? And you are his daughter, the woman that stood and watched as I was nearly murdered in Bath.’ Despite what had happened on the previous evening, she’d have been in custody before she could explain herself.

  But she could not have resisted the temptation to ask. It was fortunate that William Felkirk’s amnesia was as impervious as ever. Her hopes had risen when he’d admitted to being there the night of the murder. But even then, he could not remember anything helpful. Nothing but useless details about birds and crowns, while her father had lain bleeding in the oak leaves at his feet.

  She must remember that he had been but a child and very sick. If there had been a death in the family, and illness, she now knew why the old duke had been far too preoccupied with their own family to give any thought to hers.

  But still, to have learned her father’s last words after all this time would have been as valuable as diamonds. She let out a sigh and with it she released the last of her bitterness towards the Felkirk family. While her life had been unfair, she must admit that it was no real fault of theirs. Having walked the path where the crime occurred, she had no reason to believe it was not as safe as William claimed. She had always imaged some lawless wilderness where a merchant might fear to tread after dark. But she was sure that there was not so much as a poacher on the land, much less a highwayman. No one could have predicted that his cries for help would be delayed by worries over a sick child. His death was not accidental. But the circumstances around it were much easier to understand then they had been.

  It did nothing to ease the hurt of her past. But if she had thought to get revenge, as Montague had, she could find no logical justification for it. The duke, his wife and her Will
iam were quite blameless in what had happened to her father, and to her.

  But if they were not at fault, then who was? If the path was not particularly dangerous, how had someone discovered her father on it? He would not have announced, when passing through the local inn, that he carried a bag of valuable stones in his pocket. Yet, someone must have known of his plans and waited on the path for him.

  ‘I have something for you.’

  She started again and looked up to see Will standing in the doorway that connected their bedrooms. She must learn not to jump at the sound of her husband’s voice. It should be as familiar to her as her own. And after last night, sleeping in his arms, she had to admit that it was a pleasure to hear. At the memory, she remembered to greet him with a smile. ‘A gift? I am sure, whatever it is...’

  ‘Is not necessary? On the contrary, the thing I bring is yours already. You should have had it for some time. Giving it to you was one more thing that I had forgotten.’ He held out a closed fist to her. ‘Close your eyes and open your hand.’

  She did as he wished, trying to stifle the feeling of excitement. He might be simply be rewarding her for her behaviour in bed with him. She had received such gifts before and felt the disappointment and shame that came with them. Could not the pleasure be enough to satisfy them both?

  Then, she felt the slim, cool band of metal resting on her palm. She had an illogical desire to yank her hand away before she opened her eyes and saw what she knew must lie there.

  ‘I must have promised you this, I am sure,’ Will said, in the voice he used when trying to manufacture memories to fill the void of the last six months. ‘It belonged to my mother and was set aside, waiting for my marriage.’ He shuffled his feet, as though embarrassed that he could not offer her more. ‘It is not so grand as the duchess ring, of course. Although I doubt Penny would mind giving it up to you, should you want it. She says it is far too heavy to be practical. All of the best pieces are already in her jewel box. But they are entailed. This is mine. And now, it is yours.’

  He withdrew his hand to show the delicate gold setting with a single rose-cut diamond at the centre of it. She could not help her instincts. What her father had not bred into her, Montague had taught, so that she might be his partner in the shop. She held the stone up to the light, searching for flaws.

  It did not shine as a brilliant cut might, but the stone was perfect, a testament to elegance. The setting was etched with vines and made it look even more like the flower it was meant to represent. The colour was a clear blue-white, the weight, if she subtracted the gold, was slightly over a carat.

  It was not worth as much as the stones her father had lost. But should she sell it, she would have several thousand pounds. It was more than enough to launch both herself and her sister on a new life, free of the interference of Mr Montague.

  ‘Don’t you like it?’ Will was still standing before her, hand outstretched, ready to place it on her finger. Instead of responding with gratitude, she was calculating the value of a lover’s gift.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she spoke from her heart. ‘It does not matter to me what Penny has. This is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. I would not trade it for the world.’

  ‘That is what I hoped to hear,’ Will said, with a satisfied smile.

  It was true. She wanted this ring as she had no other. She’d no jewellery of her own, other than the string of pearls she had been given on her sixteenth birthday. They had been her mother’s and had been less a present than an inheritance. For all the other pieces that passed through her hands, she had never been more than a model. A pretty neck to hang things on so that Montague might sell them. She had long since stopped coveting them.

  The more she looked at this ring, the more she wanted it and all it symbolised. She burned to have it and to have the man that held it. It meant safety, peace and an unbroken circle of union.

  ‘Let me help you.’ He meant with the ring, of course. He wanted to put it on her finger. But something in his voice was coaxing her to tell him how much help she really needed.

  She let herself be wooed and closed her eyes again. He slipped it on and whispered, ‘With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship. With all my worldly goods I thee endow.’ Then he warmed the finger with a kiss. She opened her eyes to see him looking up into hers. ‘That is right, isn’t it? Were they the words I spoke to you, when we married?’

  She did not know, nor did she care. They were the words he’d spoken to her, right at this instant, and she could feel that he meant them. ‘They are perfect,’ she whispered back.

  As was the ring. The fit was comfortable. The weight was not awkward. It added elegance to the hand. It made her want to gesture, casually, so that others might notice and envy what her husband had given to her. She could not stop looking at it. And she could not stop smiling.

  He gave a sigh of relief. ‘You do like it. Sometimes, I wonder. You are so quiet and too easily pleased. I cannot always tell your mood. As I have told you before, you must not do things just to please me.’

  ‘Of course I like it,’ she said. ‘And...’ She stopped, frozen. Then she said what she was thinking. ‘And I love the man who has given it to me.’ Unlike so many other things she said, it was truth. An inconvenient truth, perhaps. She still did not know how to free herself from Montague, or what might happen if Will remembered Bath. But even if there could be no future for them, she had to share her feelings.

  Things were not as bad as she feared. Or perhaps they were worse. He wanted to help her. Soon, she would ask him for aid and see if he was as good as his word. If she truly loved him, she would have to tell him the truth. But not today. The moment was too perfect to risk ruining it with talking.

  So she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. This was truth as well. She liked kissing him. She liked being kissed by him. She liked the way it felt to touch him and to have him touch her.

  ‘You love me,’ he said, when their lips had parted. It would have been better had he declared his feelings for her. It was unfair of her to expect that. No matter what she had been telling him, he had known her but a few days.

  But she had been watching over him for weeks, and in that time she had found nothing that was not admirable. She knew him now, better than she knew herself. Though it was not real, it was just the sort of marriage she could have wished for. ‘I love you,’ she repeated. ‘And, if you are not too busy, or too tired, I should like to go to your room now.’ She smiled into his chest, letting her ringed finger play with the buttons on his waistcoat.

  He laughed. ‘I cannot imagine a better response to this gift, or a better way to celebrate it.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘In the days before the accident, did I tell you what a delight you are, my beautiful Justine?’

  ‘I do not recall,’ she said. ‘But you might say it all again, if it is true.’

  ‘Later,’ he said. ‘At the moment, I have a much more physical demonstration of my feelings.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was nearly a week since they had moved to the old manor and life could not have been better. Justine had grown so used to behaving as a wife to Will that it no longer felt like play acting. She loved the shared meals and the quiet evenings with lacework and novels. She especially loved what happened after, when she retired to her husband’s room. Even if they did nothing more than sleep in each other’s arms, there was a warmth more cosy than the fire in the drawing room and a peace stronger than she’d ever known.

  All the same, Justine tempered her excitement at the arrival of her sister with a very real fear. Suppose Mr Montague learned of her plan and put a stop to it? She had been able to avoid him thus far. Three days’ steady rain had made walks in the woods impossible. She had persuaded Will to send a carriage to meet the coach in Cardiff, thus avoiding a chance meeting
between Margot and their guardian at the local inn. But there were still so many things that might go wrong.

  Suppose, once she arrived, Margot blurted out the truth, or asked embarrassing questions that could not be answered. She had shielded the poor girl from her sordid relationship with their guardian. Margot thought of him as nothing more than a rather silly older man. As such, she did not know why she needed protection. There was nothing more dangerous than not knowing of the risk.

  Now that the day of Margot’s arrival had come, Justine was pacing the floor of the morning room, staring out the window for the approaching carriage. ‘You need not worry,’ Will said, taking her hands in his and kissing them. ‘I have persuaded Adam to send the barouche. The ride will be comfortable and the driver will take utmost care.’

  Justine smiled at the thought. Margot must have started in disbelief at the sight of the Bellston crest on the door and the liveried servants calling her Miss de Bryun with a bow, eager to be of service. Even if it was only an illusion, it would be a memory that she could share with her children, should she have any. The chances she might marry and have those children would increase once she was safely out of the clutches of Montague.

  * * *

  At last, she heard the distant jingle of harnesses through the open window, and the approach of the carriage, the calls of the coachman and the butler at the door, ready to welcome the new guest. She hurried to the hall and pushed past him so she could be at the foot of the carriage steps when her sister alighted.

  For a moment, Margot was framed in the open door of the carriage above her. Then she took the few steps to the ground as if in a daze, staring up at the house in front of her. Before she could say a word, Justine rushed forward and enfolded her in her arms.

  For a moment, she forgot everything but how good it was to see Margot again. It had been too long since they had been together and even longer since they had been able to speak freely. Before they could do that, it would be longer still. But for now, it felt as if their troubles were over. She whispered in hurried French in the girl’s ear, ‘Guard your tongue, Margot. The situation is complicated. I will explain everything soon. For now, all you must know is that I am Lord Felkirk’s wife and this is my home.’