That Infamous Pearl

by Alicia Quigley

  "But if you are pregnant, then your child is my heir," observed Alaric. "He was content to ignore you until he realized that I had not married you solely for revenge and that the marriage had been consummated. Then you became a threat to him."

  Rowena flushed. "But why hasn't he tried to kill you again?"

  Alaric shrugged. "He probably thought better of it years ago when he realized that I would pay his debts whenever he asked me. He was unmarried and young, and he had already botched one attempt on my life. The blame had fallen on Malcolm, but it would be dangerous to try again. And I showed no signs of ever marrying and having children. As long as he was the heir to Brayleigh no one would question his spending. But you, my dear, upset his plans."

  Rowena crossed her arms and tapped her foot, frowning. "Well, it makes me very angry. He has acted as though he were my friend. At least Marguerite never pretended to like me."

  "She is certainly never less than honest about her emotions," said Alaric.

  There was a moment's silence. Then Malcolm stirred restlessly.

  "That's all very well, but what are we going to do now? Because if you don't take care of Charles, Brayleigh, I'll do it myself."

  Alaric gave him a sympathetic glance. "Nothing would make me happier than to let you deal with him, Wroxton. But I would hate to have to ship you out of the country again to avoid being charged with murder, which I'm sure is what would happen if I left you to your own devices."

  "Then what shall we do? I can't have the man creeping about trying to kill my sister," insisted Malcolm.

  "No, that would never do. This afternoon, while Rowena was otherwise occupied I was attempting to get information out of him. But he's very slippery. He dodged my questions easily, as I couldn't be particularly pointed." Alaric gazed thoughtfully at Rowena.

  "I'll be pointed," growled Malcolm. "I have nothing to lose here, Brayleigh."

  "No, but Rowena does. She would be very upset to see you arrested, Wroxton, and I cannot have that."

  "Well, thank you very much," said Malcolm sharply.

  "Please, Malcolm. Alaric is only being provoking." Rowena frowned. "We must decide exactly what it is we shall do now. We're all in danger, it seems, if Charles is not caught."

  "You are absolutely right about that, my dear Rowena." The quiet voice came from the doorway, and all three turned abruptly to face it. Charles stood there, a pistol in his hand and a satisfied smile on his face.

  "My, my, I seem to have had a sudden run of luck. I came up here only to see how much you might know, Rowena, but it seems I have stumbled on the entire nest of plotters. So now I can take care of all of you at once."

  Alaric's eyes narrowed as he looked at his cousin and he shifted his weight almost imperceptibly. Charles turned towards him, his pistol swinging in Rowena's direction.

  "Stay where you are, Alaric. One step and your wife dies. I don't think you want that."

  Alaric froze, and Charles laughed softly. "You see Alaric, I know of your weakness." He walked over to Rowena and stared down at her. "You have caused many problems, my dear. Until you arrived, my future was secure. But you put my cousin under your spell and upset my plans. It wasn't well-done of you."

  "I didn't force Alaric to marry me," protested Rowena. "You can hardly blame this on me. You're the one who created this situation with your greed and losses at the gambling table."

  Charles shrugged. "All noblemen gamble. Ask your brother. His loss of the pearl gave me my opportunity to see Alaric hung, or forced to flee to the Continent. Unfortunately, fate wasn't kind to me. Otherwise I would be the Earl of Brayleigh today."

  "So you were right, Rowena," said Malcolm. "Damn you, Charles, why did you have to mix me up in your plot?"

  "You weren't meant to be more than a tool, Malcolm. But, as usual, you got carried away. If you had stayed out of the business I would have gotten rid of your greatest enemy for you. I really have very little sympathy for you."

  Malcolm growled and made a sudden move towards Charles, who reached out swiftly and grabbed Rowena, swinging her around to face the men, the pistol held firmly to her head. "I warned you," he growled. "One more move and she dies."

  Malcolm swore, and Charles grinned at him. "You will surely be in hell before I am, Malcolm. Such a pity, too, with the pretty family reunion occurring so recently. You would have done better to have stayed where you were. Whatever made you come back?"

  "I heard that Rowena married Brayleigh," muttered Malcolm. "I couldn't have that."

  "I, too, would have liked to stop the marriage. But I believed Alaric was simply playing with her. Instead, it seems he is actually fond of your sister. Ironic, isn't it?"

  Rowena's eyes sought Alaric's over Charles' arm. He smiled reassuringly and shook his head. She took a deep breath. Somehow, she knew, he would find a way out of this.

  "I had been informed that you were in England," continued Charles. He laughed at Rowena's look of surprise. "Oh yes, I've been watching you for weeks. I hoped that your brother would kill my cousin for me, but it seems Rowena once again interfered and patched up your quarrel. What a pity. Is this what you were looking for, Malcolm?"

  Charles reached into his vest pocket without taking his eyes off Alaric and produced a an enormous pearl set in gold, quite three inches in length and glowing pinkly, as if from a life within. Rowena eyed it, noticing, even with her mind preoccupied by Charles' movements, the exquisite color and shape of the pearl, and its incredibly magnetic beauty.

  "My pearl," gasped Malcolm. "Damn it, Charles, how could you?"

  "It was foolish of you to keep it," observed Alaric. "You have now sealed your fate. There will be no doubt that you are guilty."

  Charles shrugged. "How could I throw away something so valuable? I hoped that someday the talk would die down and I could sell it; I could use the money. But Alaric's reputation made the damn thing far too famous. And now I won't need it anymore; I'll have the Brayleigh fortune."

  He cast the pearl scornfully to the floor and looked at Malcolm mockingly.

  "I am glad I could reunite you with your bauble before your death," he said. "What a pity you will not be able to enjoy it for long. It will be found in your pocket, proof that you killed Ingram."

  "Tell me, Charles, what exactly you are going to do now?" said Alaric. "You cannot possibly kill all of us and simply walk away."

  Charles laughed. "Why not? You have handed me the perfect scenario with the three of you gathered together so obligingly in this room. It will be obvious to all viewers that Malcolm and your lovely wife have been plotting behind your back. They meant to secure your fortune and murder you as revenge for your treatment of Malcolm. They were weaving their plans here in this room and you surprised them. Enraged, you murdered your wife and her brother, and then shot yourself in a fit of remorse. It will be a delightful scandal, and Society will talk of little else for months. Brandfon Abbey will become notorious, thus pleasing Lady Brandfon immensely. I will, of course, be grief-stricken, for in one day I lost my beloved cousin, his wife, and my dear friend Malcolm Arlingby. I shall reluctantly take my place as the new Earl of Brayleigh."

  "Do you truly think you can fire off that pistol three times and not be discovered?" asked Alaric.

  "This is a huge house, and no one is in this wing," observed Charles. "Marguerite is downstairs in the solarium, and the other guests are resting or in the gardens. It will take them a considerable amount of time to reach this room, even supposing they hear the shots. I will be the first on the scene, of course, and they will find me suitably shocked and mournful. Now, who shall die first?"

  Rowena saw Alaric shift his weight and guessed that he meant to make a leap onto his cousin. She braced herself, fearing the worst and opened her mouth to say something, anything, to keep Charles from noticing Alaric. Then into the silence came a knock on the door, making them all jump. Charles ground out an oath.

  "Make whoever it is go away," he ordered Rowena in a whisper, pressing the barrel of
the pistol against her temple.

  She exchanged a glance with Alaric and then turned her head towards the door.

  "Who is it?" she called softly.

  "Lady Bingham. I am sorry to disturb you, but I believe we must continue our conversation. You do not seem to quite understand what it is I am trying to tell you."

  Rowena rolled her eyes. The woman was nothing if not persistent. "I am sure I understand you perfectly."

  "On the contrary, there is much you still need to know. You ran off before I could make myself clear."

  "Get rid of her," whispered Charles, his voice full of frustration. His grip on Rowena tightened.

  "I'm trying," Rowena snapped back. "It is not as though it is a simple task. She really is quite difficult to deal with; once she has an idea in her head it is hard to relieve her of it."

  "Lady Brayleigh?" Marguerite's voice was suddenly laden with curiosity. "Is someone in there with you?"

  Rowena glanced at Alaric and saw that his emerald eyes were actually lit with amusement. He flicked a glance to the door and Rowena nodded slightly. "Of course not," she called. "Why would there be someone with me?"

  "Why cannot I come in then?" Marguerite sounded intrigued. "If it isn't Alaric, who is in your room?"

  "No one," answered Rowena. "Please go away."

  "My, my. Is the perfect wife actually playing her husband false? That will be a pretty tale to tell Alaric." Marguerite flung the door open, determined to catch her rival in an embarrassing moment. As she did so, Rowena threw all her weight towards the door. Charles, caught off guard, was carried with her, and Rowena twisted suddenly, placing him between her and the door. It caught Charles sharply between the shoulder blades and he let out a gasp. Rowena seized the moment to slip out of his grasp.

  "Charles!" squealed Marguerite with delight. "I had never imagined that it might be you--"

  "Bitch," Charles ground out, ignoring Marguerite and reaching out to grab Rowena's arm. But then Alaric was on him, grasping the arm that held the pistol and fighting him for it. Rowena watched in horror as the weapon wavered back and forth and Charles tried desperately to tighten his finger on the trigger.

  "What is going on here?" demanded Marguerite shrilly as she took in the scene. "What is the meaning of this?"

  "Damn it," said Malcolm, moving towards the two men. Rowena grabbed his arm, holding him back.

  "Don't distract Alaric," she hissed.

  "Distract him? I mean to help him," snapped Malcolm.

  "Then stop that woman from shrieking," said Rowena.

  Malcolm shrugged and moved over to where Marguerite, who appeared to have strong lungs, was screaming hysterically. He grabbed her arm and shook her.

  "Be silent!" he ordered. "You'll upset everything."

  "Upset everything!" Marguerite stared at Malcolm, and her voice took on a rabid edge. "What is going on here?" She paused. "Did Alaric catch his wife with his cousin?" The thought appeared to calm her momentarily. "How delicious."

  "Aye, you would think that," said Malcolm.

  Alaric and Charles continued to struggle, and Rowena decided to take matters into her own hands. She marched over to a table on which sat an ornate bronze vase full of flowers from Lady Brandfon's garden. Grabbing it, she turned, and hesitating only momentarily, flung it briskly at the back of Charles' head. Water and flowers flew everywhere.

  "I thought you said we shouldn't distract them," objected Malcolm as Charles staggered under the blow. Alaric's hand tightened on the pistol, which turned in their hands. A shot disturbed the quiet of the room. Marguerite began to scream again.

  "Can't you be still?" demanded Malcolm crossly.

  Rowena ran to Alaric, who stood with the pistol still in his hand as Charles staggered backwards. "Darling, are you hurt?" she cried.

  "Devil a bit, although I don't think the same can be said of my deceitful relation," he said, wrapping his free arm around her waist. Charles collapsed heavily in a chair, a patch of blood appearing, and then growing, on his shoulder.

  "Damn you, Alaric," he said. "And you too, Marguerite. What the hell made you come in here?"

  Marguerite blinked. "I wanted to speak to Lady Brayleigh," she said.

  "You and your talking," said Malcolm. "I don't know why you can never take no for an answer. Not but what your arrival was very helpful, of course."

  Sir Peter and Mr. Brenderby appeared in the door, bewildered looks on their faces. "We thought we heard a shot," Sir Peter began, and then stopped as he took in the tableau presented to him. His mouth dropped open at the sight of Charles bleeding in a chair, Lady Bingham standing rigidly in the middle of the room, and Lord and Lady Brayleigh holding each other, while the earl clutched a pistol in one hand. His eyes slid to what he presumed to be the Brayleigh's groom, whose hair appeared to be oddly askew. "What is going on here?" he demanded.

  "Damned if I know," said Malcolm.

  No one else spoke, and Marguerite stepped into the momentary silence. "I came into the room and saw Charles holding a pistol to Lady Brayleigh's head," she announced dramatically. "Surely it is some sort of lover's triangle! Alaric's bride and his cousin are betraying him!"

  Alaric laughed shortly, and put the pistol down on the table, giving it a look of distaste. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but it is no lover's triangle, Marguerite, merely the final act in a long and tedious play. But I believe it is now at an end. Wroxton, I welcome you home."

  He extended his hand to Malcolm, who shook it enthusiastically. He pulled the wig off his head, revealing his shining gold hair. "That feels better," he declared.

  "Seize him," said Charles abruptly, pointing at Alaric. "Can't you see that Wroxton and my cousin are in league? They conspired together to murder Ingram, and when I confronted them, they sought to kill me!"

  Sir Peter turned from one person to the other, bafflement on his face. Alaric stepped forward and pushed Charles gently back into his chair. "Be quiet, Charles. The game is up. We all heard you admit you killed Ingram, and Marguerite, willingly or no, has said she saw you holding a pistol to my wife's head. There is no reason for you to do that except to protect yourself." He turned to Marguerite and sketched a bow. "I thank you for your evidence, Lady Bingham. In one moment you have cleared both Wroxton and myself."

  Marguerite gaped at him, slowly grasping what she had done. "But, I didn't think…I didn't know…"

  "I'm aware of that. If you could have done me a bad turn, you would have. I can only be glad that your love of dramatics led you to leap to the wrong conclusion and thus tell the truth."

  Marguerite pouted. Malcolm gave her an encouraging pat on the arm. "It's not all bad, Marguerite. You've cleared my name as well as Alaric's. You've done an old friend a good turn."

  "As though I care about you," snapped Marguerite. She turned and walked towards the door, where she paused and gave them all a haughty look over her shoulder. "I suppose you're all very pleased with yourselves."

  "I suppose we are," answered Malcolm. Alaric said nothing, for he had taken Rowena in his arms and was kissing her soundly.

  Chapter 39

  Later that evening, Rowena stood with Malcolm and Alaric in the garden. She gazed around with a new delight. Everything seemed fresher than it had only that afternoon; and the sense of dread that had hung over her for days had lifted. She smiled warmly at Malcolm.

  "I am so glad that your name is cleared," she said.

  "It wouldn't have happened without you. Never thought you had so much gumption, Rowena," he replied. "I'll have to teach you to shoot now. I'll bet anything you'd be excellent at it."

  Alaric groaned. "The last thing I need, Wroxton, is my wife wielding a pistol. And please, refrain from betting your possessions again. My hope is that from now on, my life will be much calmer."

  Malcolm snorted. "With an Arlingby? Don't count on it."

  Alaric shook his head and turned to Rowena. "We are now both fine upstanding citizens, thanks to your efforts. And Charles is going to sur
vive to be tried for Ingram's murder."

  "Unfortunately." Malcolm frowned. "I wouldn't have missed," he concluded darkly.

  "I didn't miss," said Alaric firmly. "I meant only to wound him. We did not need another death on our hands."

  "We can only be relieved that Lady Bingham was startled enough to tell the truth," said Rowena. "That woman is made of pure spite, I believe."

  "Don't talk about Marguerite that way. She really believed Brayleigh to be guilty, you know," Malcolm said. "And she did clear both your husband and me."

  Rowena made a face. "I don't know why you insist on defending her. That wretched female wishes to destroy my marriage and marry my husband. You cannot imagine the discomfort she had caused me."

  "She's only trying to take care of herself," sputtered Malcolm. "She's always had to make her own way in life."

  "That doesn't mean she has to be unpleasant about it," rejoined Rowena. "You are putting me all out of patience."

  "What a shrew. Lord, you'd think almost getting shot twice in one day would make you less argumentative."

  "I don't see what that has to do with anything. Lady Bingham is still a thorn in my side."

  Malcolm opened his mouth to retort, but Alaric interrupted. "I believe we can dispense with this discussion of Lady Bingham's qualities. It has no real purpose that I can see, despite the obsession the pair of you seem to have with it. We should be celebrating, not quarreling."

  Malcolm grinned. "Oh, very well. I'm glad everything's turned out right, and now I'll leave you alone. I'm sure you have some things to discuss." He winked knowingly at Rowena. "I'll be going up to Wroxton in a few days to break the news to Cousin Felix. You can come with me if you'd like, Rowena. You haven't been home in some time, and I could use your advice on matters of the estate."

  Rowena chanced a glance at Alaric. He was watching her gravely, and she couldn't tell his emotions from his face. "Maybe," she answered. "I'll let you know."

  Malcolm leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I have something for you, little sister," he said. He fished in the capacious pocket of his coat and produced something that he pressed into her hand. She looked down and gasped.