Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8

by Lynne Connolly

  “I want to go to Lisbon,” Richard said. “To ensure the house we have there is properly set up and guarded. I’ll check every door, every window and only my own servants will wait on us there.” He glanced around, at the large windows that could be flung open in summer to catch every stray breeze. “This palacio is very beautiful, but not very defendable.” His level of anxiety was understandable. He was not merely taking care of us, he was taking care of himself.

  “So once you know we are safe, you can set about finding him?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So we are to prepare ourselves for a journey.” I forced a smile, but I felt my lips tremble.

  “You want to be somewhere you can control.” Lizzie sighed. “I understand. But come back when you know, won’t you?”

  Paul put his hand over hers and squeezed. “I will have to call the authorities and inform them of the death. Otherwise rumours will spread. I want them to consider it an accident, for now, and I’ve presented it as such. Bad cream in the sweet.” He glanced at Richard. “So what are we left with?”

  Richard sighed. “We have several possibilities.” He ticked them off on his fingers one by one. “Barber. John Kneller through Barber. A series of coincidences, something I consider extremely unlikely. But the lemon cream was poisoned, and two people in this house are known to be particularly fond of that dish.” Was fond, I thought, but I said nothing. Richard continued. “When my wife and children are involved, I take no chances. While I’m almost sure Kneller is responsible for this recent attack, we can’t discount other possibilities.”

  A moment of fraught silence ensued, one I had no inclination to break.

  Paul spoke first, his tones frigid as ice. “You suspect Joaquin?”

  “We know of his history,” Richard said gently. “That he is your elder brother. I also know that the Catholic church can be somewhat flexible when it comes to marriage decisions. Rose may not have been the principal target of the poisoner.”

  If that was so, then the accident on board could be considered an accident, and the strangling due to something else. Falling out between lovers, greed or something else. But if the poisoning was not of Joaquin’s doing, then the series of incidents, plus even the sickness on board during our journey, could form part of a sickening chain. I wanted Joaquin guilty, God help me.

  Paul rose to his feet. In his glittering clothes, the colours darker than the ones Richard preferred but no less magnificent, he stood tall and forbidding. “I would not have thought that you, above all people, would have doubted the bond that exists between brothers. Joaquin is without question innocent of this.” He crossed the room to the window, turned and came back, the only reason for his perambulation, I suspected, to regain control over a temper I had not suspected him of possessing.

  Lizzie watched him carefully, but not with an apprehension that might have indicated that she’d been the recipient of his anger at any time. Concern for him showed in her gaze before she turned her attention to us.

  “Believe me, Joaquin did not do this, or have any knowledge of it. He doesn’t wish to be marquês. That was his mother, whose bitterness and ambition eventually drove him away.”

  Paul returned to the sofa and took her hand, gazing down at his wife in a manner that revealed his love for her. “Joaquin has no wish to usurp my position and was the first to congratulate us when our child was born. He was relieved. His mother wrecked his early life, and while I understand what she did, Joaquin has steadfastly refused to challenge the decision of the courts.” When Lizzie tugged his hand, he sat next to her once more, a little closer, retaining her tight clasp. “I am sure enough of him to know that if you investigate, you will find nothing. I will even help you, should you wish it.”

  I was astonished. For Paul, a man of good sense, to say this, he must have good reason. We had to trust him in this matter. Richard liked him and so did I. Paul was a man of honour, and a man who didn’t take his responsibilities lightly. He’d known Joaquin for most of his life. It was enough for me.

  Richard shook his head. “From what you say, it won’t be necessary to investigate. Would you trust Joaquin with the care of your wife and children?”

  “I not only do, but I have done so in the past. I have no compunction in leaving Joaquin to ensure her safety. He has engaged personal servants for us, offered the hospitality of his home. Any arguments you may witness between us are because we are both hotheads.”

  That came as news to me. I had never thought of Paul as a hothead. At one point, I didn’t think his cold reserve boded well for a marriage with my passionate sister. “You concur, Lizzie?”

  She nodded. “He is a man with a deep sense of honour. He’s spoken to me of his mother. It grieved him to leave her, but he could not allow her to speak of his family in that way. True, his father did wrong in having his marriage put aside, but Joaquin didn’t want to usurp Paul. He saw the responsibilities associated with the title, and he agreed that Paul was more suited for the role. He has little patience with court affairs. He cares only for his vines and the development of good wines. You have heard him speak of his passion. You know this.”

  Richard glanced at me, and I inclined my head. I would trust my sister, a woman in which deep passion and shrewd common sense held a perfect balance. “Then we will not pursue that line of enquiry.” A man’s word was his bond, and both Paul and Richard had just given theirs.

  “I want that merchant brought to justice,” Paul said.

  Richard nodded. “As do I.” He lifted his head and gave Lizzie a piercing look. “That revelation has just made things easier. I still wish to remove to the Lisbon house until we have resolved the matter, but this gives me a chance to ensure the house there is ready to receive us, and to further my enquiries. I will go tomorrow.”

  “I would come with you,” Paul said. “I know the authority you have in your own country, but I have authority here. Portugal is a land where the formal approach is preferred. I can open doors and command attention.”

  Richard didn’t pause for a moment. “Then I accept. Thank you. But I don’t wish to leave my wife and children unprotected.”

  “Joaquin,” Paul reminded him.

  Then there was a pause, but only while Richard bit his lip, frowning. “We may come back the next day, the day after tomorrow.”

  “That is Sunday, All Saints’ Day. It is an important day in the calendar. Everyone will be at church, and some will not travel or do any work on that day. It wouldn’t look well if I didn’t attend at least one service, also.”

  Lizzie turned to him with a rustle of silk, immediately concerned. “Should I come? Do you wish to be seen with your wife at your side?”

  “It’s not essential, and I would rather you stayed here, where you are safer. I think you can be slightly unwell and attend a service here, if you wish.”

  Lizzie had converted to Catholicism. As she said to me at the time, “It doesn’t matter to me in what way I worship God, and it would make things much easier for Paul. Why should I worry if they burn incense or not?”

  Of course the matter was far more complex, but trust my sister to see through all the politics and the scheming surrounding the various religions to find the truth of the matter. Turning Catholic would ally her with the Jacobites, for one thing, and I would wager they had been in touch with her. Since Culloden, they’d been desperate to reclaim some kind of power in Europe. But my sister would claim to have no interest and send them away.

  “I doubt I’ll be attending with you,” Richard said, “but I might seek out an Anglican church. It would be a good idea if I nailed my colours to the mast.” It would indeed. It would save us a heap of Jacobite petitioners calling at our door, thinking they had some ingress.

  I had never felt the need to attend church every day and twice on Sundays, being content with a single attendance on the Sabbath, but I would forego the pleasure this time. “I shan’t be attending,” I told him, “so I need to be very good until I can reach
a church, do I not?”

  Richard burst into laughter at the arch smile I sent him. “Minx,” he declared with wholehearted conviction. “You will be very good indeed and take care to obey your husband in every way.”

  Paul brought us back down to earth. “It is a shame, because officials will be at home with their families. We may have to stay until Monday at least.”

  “If we don’t achieve what we want to tomorrow.” Richard made a decision, firm in his resolve. “We’ll leave early and try to get the business done in a day. I want to check the manifests for the ships in port, and I want to find and hold Barber, by whatever means I can.”

  “Then I will request the presence of my largest footmen. I have some authority to hold prisoners,” Paul said.

  “So we may question him as we would,” Richard replied.

  “Exactly.” Paul gave a grim smile. “I am sure we can get the business done faster that way.”

  “I will miss you,” Lizzie murmured.

  Paul turned to look at her, and his expression was for a moment unguarded, adoring her, and with a promise in his gaze that I understood only too well.

  The moment took me by surprise, and when I dared to glance Richard’s way, his slight smile told me he’d noticed. Hot blood coursed under my skin, and I tried to ignore the fact that my sister had a particularly faraway expression. I changed the subject hastily. “You trust us to stay here and be safe?”

  He gave me a wry smile. “I plan to leave Carier behind, as well as the largest of the men we engaged in Lisbon. Also, you will promise to lock yourself in at night.” Carier would sleep in the bedroom between mine and the nursery. And he’d station servants at the doors.

  After an evening at cards, in which Richard and I cheated outrageously and Lizzie and Paul merely watched our efforts with bemusement, we went up to bed in much better spirits.

  I had hopes for that night.

  They were dashed yet again. But as he lay on my body, heated with his efforts to please us both at the same time instead of to bring me to climax and leave him behind, I thought I felt the wet trace of a tear.

  I would not have that. I pushed him up so I could look into his eyes.

  Sorrow clouded them. “I love you, Rose, so dearly. I have no idea why this has happened.”

  “You’re worried and tired.” I paused. I wouldn’t think of any other possibility, but the traitorous thought occasionally intruded. What if his condition proved permanent?

  Nothing. In that case, nothing. I would still love him, would still want him with me at night, would still take pleasure in having him with me. I would never allow him to sleep apart from me again when we were in the same house. Ever.

  Some days were made for naps, and the next day seemed like one of them. I missed Richard, who had left that morning for Lisbon, and I worried, even when I decided to sleep away the afternoon. Dreams disturbed me, and I woke crying out, though ten minutes after the experience I couldn’t remember what it was about. A lingering aura of terror remained with me, so I elected to read.

  Returning on my own to the bedroom later that evening, I reflected on the ease with which Richard and I had taken to sharing the same bed again, despite our other problems. It was our natural state, as natural as breathing, and although I had spent most of my life sleeping alone, I found it difficult to get used to once more. I wanted to turn over and feel his arms close around me. I wanted to snuggle up to his heat and the comfort of his body. Consequently, I slept badly. And woke to a note.

  He must have sent it overnight. It was dated the previous day.

  Rose,

  Know that you have brought me the greatest happiness I have ever known. It is more than love, it’s companionship, friendship and a shared life. I have joined with you, truly become as one. Whatever lies ahead for us, remember that, and remember that I do what I do for your health and security. Living without you doesn’t bear contemplating. I will not consider it.

  Richard

  He’d signed it with his usual flourish, but with a few extra crosses. Kisses I would make last until his return.

  No wonder some people thought us foolish. But I can’t say that I cared much for their opinion in this instance.

  Meeting for dinner that night seemed terribly uneven. Just Joaquin and us. With Richard’s permission, Paul had brought him up to date, and although he was understandably anxious, we spoke little of the business. We could not do anything to help, so we tried to relax, as much as we could.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I woke with a suddenness unusual to me. My eyes snapped open, and I stared up into the pleated silk of the bed canopy. Something had woken me, but I could hear nothing now. I glanced towards the window. It was still night, pitch dark outside.

  A rustle made me turn my head to where the connecting door joined my room with the sitting room.

  Carier stood there. I recognised his silhouette immediately. I sat up in bed, drawing the covers with me. “What is it?”

  “I’ve apprehended the merchant, ma’am. He is ranting, and I thought it best to rouse you since you asked to be apprised of developments. He tried to get back in through the dairy. He must have stolen a key or had one cut. But we were waiting for him.”

  I appreciated that he respected me and my opinions enough to consider me an adequate substitute for his master. “Where is he?”

  “I have him secured in the dairy. We captured him as he entered. I have told no one yet. Do you wish me to rouse the household?”

  “No, only Nichols.”

  Nichols appeared as if conjured by a spirit, noiselessly gliding into the room. “I am already here, my lady. Please wait outside, Mr. Carier.”

  She already had a loose robe ready for me, and she helped me into it with the minimum of fuss. I paused while she put my hair to rights, pinning up my nighttime braids, although I had no idea why she considered it necessary, and I took possession of the sturdy pistol she handed me. I was a better shot than most people knew, and it remained my weapon of choice.

  Carier returned. “What do you wish to do, ma’am?”

  At last, something to do. I would not allow anyone to deter me. “Question him, of course.”

  “This way, ma’am.” Carier led the way down the stairs and along a service corridor, past the large, well-appointed kitchen where servants would be slumbering, and past several other rooms. If this house followed the same pattern as the ones I knew, the dairy would be outside or in a room with an outside wall. The better to allow the dairymaids to enter and leave without disturbing the household.

  We entered a small room with a distinctive chill. No doubt it was on the cooler, north side of the house and had thick walls to promote what coolness there was. The shelves mounted on the walls held a collection of large, shallow bowls, some of them covered with clean cloths.

  Someone had pushed the large centre table aside, and in its place a man sat on a chair, secured to it with thick lengths of rope. His mouth was unbound, but a man stood silently by holding a kerchief and another stood at the door. They were both our footmen. Thompson’s footmen.

  The room was illuminated softly by two candles set in holders on the shelves with small mirrors set behind them. Enough light for me to see the man’s expression of sneering hatred.

  “Since we know you’re not Barber, what do we call you?”

  “Sweetheart?” His jeering mockery, using the name Richard preferred to call me in our private moments, jarred me. But I said nothing. He shrugged, or tried to, but he was too tightly secured to make a convincing job of it. “Jerry. Call me Jerry.”

  Carier stood by my side, Nichols at my back. I kept my distance. The chair wasn’t fastened to the floor, so he could have made an attempt to jerk it forwards. “Well then, Jerry, tell me. Why did you kill Crantock?”

  Jerry pursed his mouth. “I didn’t. But he had to go. He saw too much and he’d failed.”

  “Failed?”

  “That sickness aboard ship?”

  A
h. That explained a few things. With the poisoned lemon cream, I should have thought of it before, but subsequent events had driven the seemingly natural events on board out of my mind. So the dessert had been the second attempt to kill us, not the first. And poor Crantock had died for it. That and his ability to identify the mysterious youth for us. A youth I was more than sure was John Kneller.

  “You’ll hang anyway, for knowing about the death and aiding the murderer. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “So why should I tell you anything?”

  “We could be of great help to you. If you’re an accomplice, if you didn’t kill Crantock, it might be transportation instead of hanging.” But he’d caused the death of the maid. He’d hang for that. Not that I was fool enough to remind him of that now.

  His expression changed, softened. He was considering our offer. If he was a paid accomplice, he’d turn coat for the chance of saving his life. “What do you want to know?”

  “Who are you working for?”

  “I don’t work for anyone.” But he lowered his gaze after a moment, and his mouth twitched an infinitesimal amount. The candles sent a sharp chiaroscuro onto his face, and we could see every movement.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am I?”

  I glanced at Carier. “The name,” Carier said.

  “And the description,” I added. “In exchange for our word that you were not responsible for Crantock’s death.” Did he even know about the maid? He’d poisoned the cream, thinking that Lizzie and I would eat it, not that anyone else would suffer, and Lizzie had treated the matter with discretion. Barber—Jerry—was English, and might not know Portuguese well enough to find out from the villagers, some of whom were related to the dead girl.

  Jerry tried to lean back, and the chair legs scraped against the stone floor. “An angel. A man so beautiful he took my breath away. And he loved me. But you can’t pin him down like ordinary mortals. Strong, with a body that made me worship him. Fine features, grey eyes. He asked me to call him John. An angel’s name.” His voice gentled as he spoke, and his eyes grew dreamy, faraway.