“If I do not go, what will you do, Netia? You would have to face the gentlemen alone.” Vivian grinned and that reassured Venetia more than words.
“All right, then let us go down. You are certain?”
Vivian nodded, and her hat slipped a little.
“A hatpin will fix that. Here.” Venetia took a long ornamented pin from the vanity table and helped her sister adjust the hat. “Retie the ribbons and there you go. Perhaps this day will not be so bad.”
Lord Ashurst was waiting for them in the huge entry hall, looking splendid in a deep burgundy riding coat and fawn breeches. The polish on his boots reflected light like a looking glass. There was no sign of Lord Cranford. The marquess started toward them and then stopped.
Venetia and Vivian exchanged a wary glance, wondering what his reaction would be. Their joke was aimed at their aunt and their father, but how could Lord Ashurst know that?
Then he began to laugh. Walking toward them he said, “Ladies, my heartiest congratulations. What a brilliant solution to a most awkward conundrum, one that was none of our making. I did not know how I could make a choice between you without inflicting offense or disappointment in some direction, whether you welcomed my company or not, and I did not see how to refuse the prize without causing even more offense!”
“Why would you refuse the prize?” Venetia asked tersely, still stung by the conversation she had overheard earlier.
“Why, simply because it was so unfair to you to have no choice in the matter. I realize there are others with whom you might prefer to spend your afternoon.”
Venetia was surprised to hear such a courteous reply from him. “Why, not at all, my lord.”
“If it is agreeable to you, I shall simply have to choose you both, for I admit I cannot tell which of you is which when you are done up so identically. Ahem, exquisitely and delightfully, too.” He added the last almost as an afterthought, as if he were not used to making compliments. “I shall simply have to share your company with Lord Cranford.”
“Where is Lord Cranford?” Venetia asked, her tone a bit sharper than she intended. Perhaps he will not go through with it, she thought, but somewhere inside her that hope met an aggravating echo of disappointment.
“He is waiting outside for us. Shall we join him?” Lord Ashurst extended his elbows to accept a lady on either side.
The carriage drive in front of the house was full of vehicles as the expedition prepared to get underway. Lord Cranford stood by the Duke of Roxley’s gleaming landau, pushing gravel about with the toe of his boot.
Why, he looks like a little boy, was the first thought that popped into Venetia’s head. His hat was pushed back and he appeared to be studying the effect of the dust on his boots. There was something about his absentminded action combined with the way his pale hair fell forward over his downturned face that held all the charm and innocence of a very young man.
A moment later when he raised his head and saw her approaching with the others she reacted quite differently, however. Oh, she was doomed. The intent look he leveled in her direction might not have been meant for her at all, but it made her pulse leap and turned her knees to jelly nonetheless. Heavens, he was tall! He looked extremely handsome in a superbly tailored blue coat and biscuit breeches. Despite his spectacles she could see that his eyes looked very dark as she came to a stop just a few feet from him. He was not smiling.
“As you may see, Lord Cranford, I was unable to choose which lady should be mine for the day,” Lord Ashurst said with a chuckle. “Would you be agreeable to sharing our escort duty?”
Venetia steeled herself to hear Cranford say no. How much easier to simply spend the day with Lord Ashurst! He seemed much more pleasant than she had expected. But Lord Cranford did not say no.
“Clever ladies,” he said. “And I suppose you have given poor Ashurst here no clue as to which of you is which.”
Venetia raised her chin. “No, we have not. Do you suppose you can help him?”
Cranford laughed then, a laugh with a note of triumph in it. “If I had not already been quite sure, I am now, Lady Venetia.”
Vivian would never have challenged him, she realized, recognizing her mistake. Yet she was surprised that he was perceptive enough to know that. Is there anything he does not know about us?
Lord Ashurst appeared to be duly impressed. “Confounded if I know how you did that, Cranford! All the same, in deference to the ladies, I would prefer not to have to choose between them. Shall we not simply go along together? We make a fine pair of escorts, the hermit and the scholar. Poor ladies, we will do our very best to entertain you.”
The twins could not help laughing at the marquess’s self-deprecating comments, and Venetia felt somewhat more charitable as she climbed into the carriage. Lord Cranford took the seat beside her, which she thought was preferable to having him seated across from her for the entire trip to Sandler’s Hill. At least she would not have to fight the feelings she might get from looking at him.
What she did not realize was that his close proximity beside her engendered other physical sensations that were perhaps more disconcerting. Only a few inches separated them, and her heightened awareness was palpable. Her blood raced, and when the motion of the carriage occasionally breached that safe space between them, her body burned at the contact. Was he also disturbed? She risked a glance at him, but his profile betrayed nothing, his gaze fixed apparently upon the compartment ceiling.
Struggling to ignore her reactions, she tried to keep the conversation flowing during the drive. She discovered that Lord Cranford was quite knowledgeable about both the chambered long barrows and the round barrows found in the Cotswold hills. He knew more about them than she or Vivian did, although she was not about to let on that either twin had read about or studied such a subject at all.
***
Most of the carriages were left with their attendants at the foot of Sandler’s Hill, and the small party prepared to begin the trek along the winding footpath that led to the summit of the hill. The climb through the woods was steep and required some attention. The Duke and Duchess of Brancaster, who had gamely come along to help Lady Colney chaperon, soon lagged behind. The ladies who had not left their parasols with the carriages quickly consigned these items to the gentlemen accompanying them as they made their way up.
There was, however, another way up the hill: a narrow cart track that gave access to the field at the top. Venetia instructed the coachman to take the twins’ carriage as far up this track as he thought he could get.
“I am concerned about Vivian,” she told the gentlemen, ignoring the black look her sister gave her. “She never will admit when she is tired.” She looked back apologetically as they left the rest of their group behind. “Oh dear, perhaps I should have told Their Graces the duke and duchess about this way up.”
The track snaked through the woods less steeply than the footpath. The horses strained and pulled and the carriage jolted its way almost to the top of the hill. The coachman halted at a gate that opened onto the open field and bid his passengers to alight. Beyond the field the tump, or mound, could be seen at the summit, crowned by a grove of young trees and surrounded by a ditch and a grass-covered bank. The view from the hilltop was magnificent, encompassing Cotswold hills and valleys in several directions.
Venetia pulled Vivian aside for a moment as the gentlemen opened the gate.
“You are not going to go into the barrow, are you, Vivi?”
“Do not worry. I shall be fine. When are you going to thank Lord Cranford for rescuing you? You had the perfect opportunity while we were in the carriage.”
“I know.” Venetia had not wished to bring up the subject while she and the viscount were so close to each other. She had battled enough distressing feelings without bringing to mind the ones she had felt in his arms the day before. She suspected the int
imate subject might make him uncomfortable, too, in front of others. “I promise I will find a time.”
Vivian started toward the gate before she could say anything more. Venetia followed, more worried now than before.
The rest of their party was just coming up from the footpath as the twins arrived. In the open field the parasols reappeared, sprouting like flowers although a light cloud cover veiled the sun.
“A shame someone let those trees grow up there,” said young Lord Lindell, Lady Elizabeth’s brother. He nodded at the mound. “Over time those roots will work in and destroy something that’s been here for thousands of years.”
For a moment there was no sound or movement except the breeze as a hushed reverence fell over the little group. Then the duke and duchess came huffing up to the company, quite unaware of breaking the spell.
“Well then, are we going in?” asked the duke between gasps. His face was quite red, but he appeared to be recovering. “Have we lanterns?”
“Wistowe and I have them,” Nicholas answered, holding them up. “Just give us a moment to light them, and we’ll see who wishes to go in first. There’s really only room for two or three inside at a time.”
“How do we get in?” asked Lord Newcroft, who had already climbed up onto the banking and examined what appeared to be the entrance to the barrow. “This way is blocked up with a huge stone.”
“That is a false entrance,” Nicholas explained. “There is a smaller, less obvious one at the back.”
The group crowded around, stepping back when the lanterns flared to life. Venetia looked at her sister nervously, but Vivian appeared to be all right.
Two by two, the more adventurous members of the party went into the barrow with Nicholas and Lord Wistowe. As they came out again, they gathered in little knots to discuss what they had seen and to wait for the others. Venetia thought it was interesting to see who paired off with whom. Elizabeth went in with her own brother—probably because Nicholas was busy. The duke and duchess went together, of course. She was surprised to see Cousin Adela go in with Lord Chesdale, while Georgina Whitgreave went with Lord Newcroft. Aunt Alice never went in at all, and neither did Lady Caroline, who said she didn’t like enclosed spaces and preferred to admire the view.
Venetia tried again to dissuade Vivian from going into the barrow but she could not insist with so many people around them to hear. The only concession she won from her twin was an agreement to go in together instead of with Lords Ashurst and Cranford.
The barrow was interesting, Venetia had to acknowledge when the twins finally had their turn. The scent of smoke from the lanterns and the smell of damp stone and earth assailed them when they got inside. They had to step carefully to avoid some patches of mud and a puddle from the recent rains. Several tombs opened off a central passageway with walls made from large slabs of stone mixed with sections of neatly fashioned drystone work. But only two of the tombs were open, it was dark and a bit spooky, and Lord Wistowe kept positioning himself where she and Vivian had to brush up against him. The lanterns flickered and threw shifting patches of light and shadow on the walls. She felt relieved to crouch down and make her way back out into daylight—until she turned and looked at Vivian coming out behind her.
Vivian was shielding her eyes from the bright daylight and she had turned very pale. When Venetia saw her licking her lips, she recognized it as a warning sign that a seizure might be starting. What do I do now? she thought in momentary panic. The unsteady lantern light and the abrupt change from darkness to daylight were more than enough to trigger a seizure—it was just what she had feared. Vivian’s eyes met hers, and she knew by the misery she saw in them that her twin was feeling the onset of the other initial symptoms they had come to know in six years: dizziness, nausea, buzzing in her ears, and the beginning of trembling that would soon overtake her.
I have to get her away from these people. Venetia thrust her head back into the barrow entrance and called to Nicholas in a low, urgent voice. She could not say anything that Lord Wistowe might hear. However, her brother appeared in an instant, almost as if he, too, had expected trouble. “Vivi’s starting a seizure,” she whispered. “You must keep Ashurst and Cranford in here to give me time to get her away. I don’t think the others will notice us.”
She took Vivian by the hand and began to lead her away down the hill, hoping to get her to their carriage. What if she could not get there in time? When the seizure took hold, Vivian would curl up into a ball and try to hide from the terrible fear that came with it. She would fight anyone who tried to touch her, even her own sister. How would Venetia get her into the carriage then?
Cranford, came the thought. If he is the blackmailer he already knows about this. Could she ask him to help? Would he? Revealing that she knew his identity might mean accepting his scheme, forfeiting all chance to investigate and stop him.
What if he was not the blackmailer? Did she truly believe that he was? Did she believe it enough to risk exposing Vivian’s secret?
With a sense of defeat she realized the answer was no. What that meant about her own feelings she must examine later. For now she must struggle alone. She gave Cranford and Lord Ashurst an especially brilliant smile as she came to them. “Nicholas is waiting for you—’tis your turn. I think you’ll find it fascinating.”
Perhaps her tone was just a little too bright, too enthusiastic. Perhaps Vivian just looked too pale and tremulous. Cranford immediately asked if something was amiss.
“No, no, no, not at all. My sister is tired and we thought we would wait in the carriage.”
Vivian managed to nod even though Venetia could feel that the trembling was getting worse. She squeezed her sister’s hand in encouragement. At least the seizure had not yet fully taken hold. As soon as the two men started up toward the barrow entrance, the twins hurried on.
“Hold on, Vivi, hold on,” Venetia said, as if her sister had any control over what happened. She knew full well that that was not the case, but it still made her feel better to pretend.
“Unh—nixtx mumph.” Vivian began making unintelligible sounds and tried to pull away from her, a sign that the seizure had entered the next stage. Only a little farther, Venetia thought, tightening her hold. Her sister was trembling all over, making jerky movements with her free arm. They were almost to the carriage, but Venetia could not carry her twin. In another moment she would not even be able to keep a grip on her.
“John Coachman!” she called in desperation. Most of the stablehands were aware of Vivian’s trouble. Their knowledge was a matter of her safety, and they were well paid for their loyalty. Venetia nearly cried from relief when she saw that he had heard her. She hoped no one else had. Together they half dragged and half carried Vivian to the landau and bundled her in, where she crouched shaking in one corner trying to hide.
Venetia leaned against the side of the carriage, wiping the tears out of her eyes and trying to regain her composure. Vivian’s seizures never lasted more than a few minutes. She would be disoriented and confused for a short time when it was over, and then she would be back to normal except for the deep mortification she always felt afterward. Venetia needed to keep the gentlemen busy that long, unless she could convince them to go back with the others.
That was the solution! She would walk down and take the men with her. It might give Vivian just enough time.
***
Gilbey’s mind was not on the construction of the long barrow even as he put his hand on the stones that other hands had placed there in ancient times. He was quite certain something was wrong between the twins, but they obviously did not want it known.
He looked up at Nicholas, holding the lantern a few feet away. Should he say something to him about it? Perhaps he already knew. The twins had just been with him in the barrow before they came by Gilbey and the marquess.
Ashurst was asking lots of questions a
bout the tombs. Under other circumstances Gilbey would have been pleased to see someone show such interest, so similar to his own. But the man kept asking and Nicholas was encouraging him, explaining as many things as he could in great detail. The space was uncomfortably cramped for someone of Gilbey’s height, and he found he was quite eager to get out again.
When finally they were finished and had emerged into the natural light, Lady Venetia was waiting for them. At least, he was quite certain it was Venetia. Vivian was the one who had been tired and unwell, but the twin who stood before them looking off at the view seemed too subdued to be Venetia. For the first time since meeting them he was not certain which twin was which. At that moment he realized that he did not know them nearly as well as he had assumed.
“Netia?” The question was Nicholas’s.
As she turned to them, Gilbey saw that she almost literally pulled herself together—the shoulders straightened, the head came up, the haughty smile reappeared. It is all an act, he thought in astonishment, performed for our benefit. Was the lioness actually a fraud? Was that what Lady Vivian had been trying to tell him in the library? The possibility stunned and intrigued him.
“Nicholas, is that Chedworth Beacon over there? You can see so many hills! Truly this is a beautiful spot.”
She came to them with a light, careless step, as if nothing in the world was the matter. Did she not care that her twin was unwell? Gilbey narrowed his eyes as he considered. Until this moment that was exactly the interpretation he would have put on her behavior. Now he thought his blindfold had been removed. Yet why go to such lengths if Lady Vivian was merely tired? Certainly that was a common enough malady among delicate ladies.
“I told Vivian to go ahead down in the carriage, since she was weary,” Venetia explained, interrupting his thoughts. “The afternoon is so glorious, I did not think you gentlemen would mind at all if we walked. You see? I think the sun is even trying to break through for us.”
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