“As I understand it, they were a little more than a mile from the house when it occurred. They are so bold, these rogues, which is why some roads are very little traveled at night unless one has outriders and postilions with guns. Unfortunately, young James had been away studying medicine in Glasgow and was unaware of the highwaymen, or perhaps they had been lying low. They do, you know, for months and of a sudden they emerge again to terrorize us. They are certainly elusive, they seem to disappear without a trace. The rest of us would certainly breathe easier were they caught and hanged, do you not agree?”
“I do.” Alicia nodded. “Was the poor doctor set upon by highwaymen?”
“Yes . . . and he tried to defend Juliet, who unfortunately was wearing her late mother’s pearl and opal necklace, a
lovely thing, I understand, an heirloom. They wrenched it from her neck and the doctor struck at them and was pulled from the curricle. He was beaten senseless. When he regained consciousness, the curricle and his horses, the most beautiful matched grays, I understand—Sir William had wonderful taste in horses—were gone, and Juliet with them.”
"Oh, God,” Alicia breathed. “What happened to her?”
“Well, though the doctor was dazed and bleeding profusely, he managed to get to an inn some miles down the road and spread the alarm. The landlord sent out men to scour the district, but to no avail. Juliet was not found. In fact, my dear, she was never found. ’Tis believed that she was murdered and buried in an unknown grave—probably out on the moors. The doctor himself was ill with grief, and though the families, both of them, tried to persuade him to go to London, he refused. Tis said that he does not believe Juliet is dead and stays here in the hope that she might return. However, in my opinion ’tis a vain hope, for she has been missing two years and if she is alive . . . Well, one might wish that she were not.”
“Oh, dear.” Alicia shuddered and remembered his compassion and understanding on the day she had first met him. In a sense, she realized, his situation was comparable to her own, but in common with Lady Hewes, she found herself hoping that the girl was, indeed, dead.
“I do wish someone could get those men.” Lady Hewes frowned. “They are the bane of the district. They have robbed innumerable coaches and held up solitary walkers as well. That is why I am always concerned when houses are left too long empty, but the abbey, I take it, has not been invaded?”
“Not to our knowledge.” Alicia was suddenly reminded of that motionless figure in the fog but decided not to mention it. It would undoubtedly set her companion off on another lengthy discourse and, very possibly, that horseman might have a connection with the “phantom” monks. Besides, it was time and past that she joined Lucian.
Quite as if she had read her mind, Lady Hewes startled Alicia by saying, “I fear I have detained you far too long, my dear. Hewes will scold. He must have exhausted the subject of mangel-wurzels by now, I am sure, and your husband too. I pray I have not exhausted you?”
“No, not in the least,” Alicia assured her.
“You are a love, and of course, I do not believe you. However, I am more than ever determined that we must be friends. And you will come to my ball and in return you must invite us to the abbey. If Lucian protests, insist. He must not be allowed to brood in sullen silence over his peculiar situation or over my most unworthy cousin Barbara. I have a strong feeling that the less he is left to his own devices, the better it will be for both of you. And, my dear. I will allow last Sunday, but I beg that in the future you will not be too considerate of him.”
“Too . . . considerate?” Alicia repeated.
“Well, I intend to issue many invitations to both of you, and if he sometimes turns gloomy and refuses to accompany you, I beg you will come without him. And certainly you must never act apologetic when you make demands on his time. Remember that, Barbara or no Barbara, you are his wife. Indeed, it occurs to me that there are many points of interest you ought to view: ruined castles; the Aysgarth Force, which is a series of beautiful waterfalls; and there’s Bolton Castle and Easby Abbey. None of these are far from here and you might also enjoy market day in Richmond. Do not hesitate to enlist Lucian as your escort and, my love, if he balks, I beg you’ll find some other gallant to go in his stead. That, of course, might be difficult at first, since you do not know anyone, but I will remedy that and perhaps we will make a foursome. Hewes has a passion for farming that often takes him from my side and I have visited various places with one or another gentleman. But enough; we’ll discuss these matters at another time. The ball comes first.” Lady Hewes put a compelling hand on Alicia’s arm.
Coming out of the church and into the town square, Alicia found Lucian surrounded by a group of people. He seemed a trifle ill at ease and she guessed that he was being questioned and at the same time scrutinized by those who were curious about his infirmity and, judging from Lady Hewes’ remarks, equally curious about his marriage.
Before she could speculate further, Dr. Hepworth, who had been standing near the church door, came to her side. “Good morning, Lady Morley,” he said with a pleasant smile. “And Lady Hewes.”
“Good morning, Dr. Hepworth,” Lady Hewes said before Alicia could do more than nod. “ ’Tis a fine morning for mid-September, is it not? Though I expect the cold weather will soon be upon us and you kept close to the grindstone with cases of quinsy. Did I tell you I was giving a ball? If I did not, I have now and will send you an invitation soon. I do hope you will come. ’Twill be in honor of Lord and Lady Morley and—”
“I shall be delighted,” he said quickly as she paused to catch her breath. He added, “How is your husband faring, Lady Morley? I had not opportunity to ask, and as you can see, he is surrounded, at present.”
“He seems much better.” She smiled. “We are fortunate indeed that you were here to tend him.” Into her mind swam Lady Hewes’ confidence concerning the lost Juliet and she imagined she could see a trace of melancholy in his manner, for which she felt very sorry.
“I am pleased that I could be of help.” He bowed slightly, his eyes lingering on her face. “I will bid you good morning, then.”
“Good morning, sir,” she murmured.
“Good morning, Lady Hewes,” he added punctiliously.
“Good morning, Dr. Hepworth, and remember, I will be expecting you.”
“I shall look forward to it, Lady Hewes.” He bowed again and walked away.
“Well, my dear,” Lady Hewes muttered, “you have achieved a small triumph, though I am sure you are not in the least aware of it.”
“I?” Alicia looked at her in surprise. “In what way?”
“I have the distinct feeling that our stricken doctor was waiting for you to emerge from the church.”
“Oh, come, you jest,” Alicia chided. “I cannot believe that!”
“I know I am right,” Lady Hewes insisted. “Generally he leaves the church, immediately the service is at an end. And you are, as I told you, I think, much the same height as Juliet and with her coloring, save that your eyes are brown when hers were blue and her hair a paler gold.”
“Nonsense,” Alicia exclaimed. “He was only interested in Lucian’s health. After all, he tended him last week.”
“And has tended many of us in many weeks and ’tis the first time that I have seen him stop to exchange pleasantries with any of his erstwhile patients—not to mention their connections. Nor did I see him stray to Lucian’s side. Do not discourage him, my love. I had not thought of him before, but James Hepworth is well acquainted with this district and eminently suited to be your guide.”
Alicia visited an exasperated look upon her companion’s countenance. “I will do nothing of the kind, Lady Hewes,” she said firmly.
“You would be well-advised to heed me,” Lady Hewes returned sagely. “ ’Tis time that the sad memory of Juliet was effaced and a new interest put in its place. You need not encourage him, but . . . Well, we’ll discuss the matter later. Come, you must join your husband.”
“The very thing, my dearest Lucian.” Lady Hewes, standing close to Alicia, nudged her with a sharp elbow. She continued, “Coming from the sophisticated city of Brussels, you must let her see that Richmond has its attractions as well. And do not forget, I will expect you both at my ball.”
He smiled. “I will keep it in mind, Tilda. And now I will bid you all a good morning.” As they moved away, he added, “What ball? Am I being forgetful again?”
“No, you are not,” Alicia assured him quickly. “She has not sent out any announcements as yet.”
“Ah.” He appeared visibly relieved and cocked an amused eye at her. “Tilda, you must know, can be rather overwhelming. Her tongue hangs on well-greased hinges and is rarely still.”
“I have found that to be true, but still, she is very pleasant,” Alicia responded.
“Oh, she is,” he agreed.
“And was Lord Hewes interested in mangel-wurzels?”
He shook his head. “He was far more concerned with the fact that a traveler was attacked on the road last week.” He frowned. “ ’Tis late in the year for highwaymen with the nights so cold.”
“ Tis a pity they cannot be apprehended.”
“Oh, they are, but more appear. They are a plague upon those lonely roads, but come, let us go to the castle. You can see it well from this walk.” As they had been talking, they had also been making their way along the street and now she saw a steep and narrow lane leading upward. “This will bring us to a walk that will take us around the cliffs near the castle,” Lucian explained. “Do you know much about it?”
“No, save that it must be very old,” Alicia responded, caught between pleasure and surprise. She had thought that his mention of the castle had been a ploy to remove them from Lady Hewes’ chattering presence, but she realized now that he had been quite serious in his determination to show it to her.
“It is old,” he said, “and ’tis a sight well-worth seeing. Careful that you do not trip. There are many loose stones on this path.” His hand tightened on her arm.
“I am being careful,” Alicia assured him. “You, too, must be careful. Your leg . . .”
“ ’Tis much improved. I am grateful to Hepworth. He suggested that I have Jacob put hot poultices on it and they have helped me. He’s a good man. I meant to say something to him this morning. I saw him conversing with you and Tilda, but he was gone before I could call to him.”
“I expect he is busy even of a Sunday . . . Oh, listen,” she exclaimed.
“What?” Lucian looked startled.
“The river . . . there must be a waterfall below.”
“There are ledges, rather. The Swale falls into deep pools. Once we reach that bridge”—he indicated a massive stone span—“you will get a glimpse of it. The channel is nearly hidden in the shade of the woods.” He pointed to a tree- covered slope on the other side of the bridge. “The river, too, is sinuous. I wish it were later in the day, for now that the trees are beginning to turn, you should see them in the sunset. The sky will be incredibly beautiful, all purple and gold and reflected in the river.”
There was a note of excitement in his voice that Alicia had not heard for a very long time. She guessed that he had a love for this district, which, in common with his old home, he had been forced to put aside and which he might even have forgotten during the hectic war-filled years he had been away. That he wanted to share some of those beauties with her was immensely heartening as well as surprising. However, he had been in a better humor during the last few days, and that, she thought, might be due to the fact that she was helping to put the house in order.
Though he had not been particularly responsive when she had showed him the materials she and Effie had finally discovered in the attics, she suspected that she had surprised him. Had he anticipated that she would be at him with demands for money to buy new silks to upholster the chairs or, more to the point, to upholster herself, as it were, via visits to the local mantua maker? She could guess what Barbara must have told him, but she did not want to think about Barbara, not at this time when Lucian bore so close a resemblance to the man she had known and loved at first sight.
They had reached the path that led around the ivy-covered cliffs below the castle. “Oh,” Alicia murmured, “the walls are so massive.”
“And somewhere behind them, in the very depths of the castle,” Lucian said in a sepulchral tone of voice, “the Once and Future King Arthur of England sleeps.”
“King Arthur,” she exclaimed. “There?” She pointed at the castle.
“Have you not heard the legend?”
In that moment, it occurred to her that she had, but seeing him primed to tell her, she shook her head. “No, I have not.”
“Well ...” He paused and leaned against the wall. “It seems that a certain potter by the name of Thompson had a scold of a wife who would run after him calling him a lazy good-for-nothing and proclaiming his misdeeds to anyone who would listen. So one day, hoping for a bit of peace and quiet, he climbed up to the castle and found a cave in a rock. He went inside and what should he see but huge figures lying about, like the spokes of a wheel? And in their center was a high raised dais on which an immense man with a long curling golden beard lay. He was clad in golden armor and wore a jeweled crown on his head. And a few feet away there was a huge round table and in its center were placed a horn and a sword. He tried to pick up the sword, but all the sleepers stirred and he heard a voice cry, ‘Who dares to break the sleep of Arthur the King!’ He dropped the sword and took to his heels. He was so frightened that when he got home he actually told his wife about the cave; she of course insisted that he lead her to it, but he could never find it again.”
“And his wife would give him no peace after that!” Alicia laughed.
“I can imagine that she did not.” Lucian also laughed. “I cannot tell you how many times I went searching for that cave myself.”
“I should have, too, had I been fortunate enough to live here,” Alicia said.
“Fortunate?” he repeated. “Do we not seem sadly rural after Brussels?”
“No ... I was never very fond of Brussels. It was so very confining.” She shuddered slightly, remembering that she had hated the city—after Waterloo.
“Where did you live before going there?” he asked curiously.
She gave him a startled glance. For the moment she had almost forgotten that lapse of memory that had banished everything she had told him all those months ago. “We lived in London on Brook Street, but we went to Brussels when I was ten. The house was put up for sale. Papa had many creditors.”
“Did he gamble, then?”
Her eyes widened. “Do you remember my telling you that?” she asked hopefully.
He stared at her blankly and then shook his head. “No. Generally, when there are creditors, there is also a gaming table in the background.”
Alicia sighed. “ ’Tis only too true.” Defensively she added, “My father did gamble a great deal, but even before he had reached his majority, my grandfather had had a similar run of bad luck. He sold his estates in Wiltshire to pay his gambling debts.”
“Really, that is a pity.” Lucian was gazing at her intently. “I know that gambling often runs in families. Did your father continue his, er, way of life in Brussels as well?”
“He did,” she admitted.
“I hope that Brussels offers less scope than London.”
She gave him a rueful little smile. “No. There are numerous ways to gamble in Brussels, and Papa found them all.”
“That must have made it very difficult for you and your brother.”
“Occasionally, but
Papa had runs of good luck as well as bad.”
“Yet you never could have been very secure.”
Into her mind flashed the memory of Lucian as she had first seen him, indignant because she was carrying such heavy bundles into the house. She had been marketing in another part of the town where the merchants did not know her and could demand that she employ the little sum that Papa had managed to give her to pay part of their outstanding bills. She usually took Effie with her on such excursions, but Effie had had the headache that morning. And then Lucian had come forward and insisted upon shouldering her burdens, and from that moment on she had ceased to bewail her father’s proclivities. If it had not been for his gambling, she would not have met Lucian. It was that that prompted her to say, “No, we were not secure but . . She looked up at him with a smile that faded immediately when she saw the hard look in his gray eyes. He was staring at her so coldly and, she thought with a sinking heart, suspiciously as well.
“But what?” he prompted in a tone as hard as his stare. With a touch of defiance, she replied, “We were very happy, the three of us. You saw ... but you’d not remember.”
“No,” he spoke bitterly now and accusingly. “I remember nothing of Brussels—nothing at all!”
She stifled a sigh. “ ’Tis a great pity. I wish that you could.”
The Forgotten Marriage Page 15
