More Than A Mistress

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘Come on, Merry, together. Heave.’

  She pushed with all her might. It shifted a little. She was sure it moved. The flames were spreading to their side of the cellar.

  ‘Again,’ he panted.

  She put her shoulder beside his and grasped the wood frame.

  ‘Heave,’ he said.

  The rack rolled, picked up speed, slid away from the wall.

  A gaping black hole. A tunnel. A draught of sweet fresh air fanned the flames behind them. Shadows danced on the wooden ceiling.

  ‘Come on. Before those explode.’ Charlie grabbed her hand.

  Explode made her legs work really well.

  They ran for their lives, only stopping to catch their breath when they could no longer feel the heat of the fire, or hear its horrid roar.

  She put her hands on her knees and bent over, gasping for air. ‘She meant to burn us alive.’ The horror of it made her want to throw up.

  Charlie put an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s all right. You are safe. I remembered this when we were singing; my brain started working instead of panicking. Robert and I found a smuggler’s tunnel in the riverbank years ago. It led to a barn. This barn.’

  ‘Thank God you remembered.’

  Her mind froze, refusing to think about what would have happened if he had not.

  He took her hand. ‘The tunnel comes out below the mill. Smugglers row the contraband upstream and bring it this way to the inn. If you don’t mind, I’d rather like to get out of here.’

  Merry glanced back down the tunnel at the distant glow of flames. ‘The innkeeper is going to be very upset about losing his wares.’

  ‘If I find out he is part of this, he’ll lose more than contraband brandy. And if he isn’t, Father will be furious. He’s one of his best customers.’

  Merry giggled. Then started to laugh. She couldn’t stop. It just sounded so ridiculously funny.

  Still laughing, she let Charlie drag her along by one hand, using the other to guide himself along the wall. Walking this time, thank goodness. If she tried to run, she’d fall down.

  The exit appeared as a small circle of grey and grew swiftly. A few moments later they were standing in snow in the gathering dusk. Never had Merry been so happy to see snow. Luckily the tunnel did not end in the river, but in the bank a few feet above water level.

  She heaved a sigh of relief as they climbed up beside the mill.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, striking his fist in his hand. ‘All that for nothing.’ There were soot streaks on his face. His face was grim, his eyes dark. ‘No Jane and now this other man. This lord.’

  She winced. ‘I suppose you didn’t recognise his voice.’

  Thin-lipped, he shook his head. ‘No. We go back to Durn.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we find the constable? Tell him what happened? Start a hue and cry for Jane?’

  ‘You forget the man who set all this in train.’

  ‘We don’t know who he is. Catch Jane and we can catch him, too.’

  ‘In the meantime, he is still at large and you are in danger. You heard him. He planned to deal with you some other way, and when Jane learns you did not die in the fire, she will come after you again. I can’t take that risk.’

  Across the field, a pillar of smoke was beginning to rise. ‘Everyone will be too busy with the fire to look for our criminals for a while,’ he said. ‘And I will not be sure you are safe until we are inside Durn’s walls.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I mean it, Merry. I’ll put you over my shoulder and carry you all the way home if you won’t come willingly.’

  Exhausted, she let him lead her along.

  ‘Bully,’ she muttered, but never in her life had she felt so protected as she was leaning on Charlie’s steady arm.

  They met the carriage returning for them just beyond the mill. To his coachman’s obvious shock, Charlie refused to help the people trying to put out the fire and insisted on speeding back to Durn. His servants would think him heartless. Hopefully, he would be able to set their minds at rest at a later date. Given the amount of brandy burning there was no saving the barn, but no lives would be lost, since he and Merry had got out.

  He’d almost got them both killed by charging after Merry. Always impetuous. His commanding officer had said so and his father had said so. It seemed he had learned nothing by his experience in the army.

  The thought of Merry burning in the fire sent cold chills down his spine every time his mind wandered back to the scene in the bowels of the earth. Hell could not have looked worse.

  The carriage halted outside the front door of Durn.

  Charlie looked at the glower on his coachman’s face. ‘Take some men, return to the village and see if you can help,’ he said. ‘But say nothing about picking up Miss Draycott and me on the road, if you please. Also remind those at the gate of my orders. No one other than members of the household are to be admitted tonight without my express permission.’

  The man gave him a look that said he thought Charlie touched in the head, tugged his forelock and set his team in motion.

  Charlie guided Merry up the steps. She’d sat with her eyes tight shut all the way home. He’d been glad of her silence. There had been too much going on in his head for sensible conversation.

  Logan opened the door. For once his expression showed shock. ‘Has there been an accident?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Merry said, before Charlie could speak. ‘It was all quite deliberate. If you’ll excuse me, I would like to see Mrs Falkner.’

  ‘Perhaps you will scare her, appearing covered in soot.’

  Merry narrowed her eyes. ‘Perhaps she will be shocked if I appear at all.’

  She headed for the stairs.

  Charlie caught her halfway up the staircase. ‘All this time you have defended her. What makes you suspect her now?’

  She looked on the edge of breaking. Tears stood in her blue eyes. The tears of betrayal, and fear and pain. He wanted to hold her close and comfort her. When he tried to put his arms around her, she pushed him away.

  ‘She brought Jane into my home. She insisted she stay when I said I didn’t like her. And she is so damned secretive. She is the person who will benefit by my death.’ Her voice broke. She covered her face with her hand. ‘I can’t really believe it but I just don’t know any more.’

  So this was why she’d been so quiet in the carriage, brooding about her friend. Damn it, he should have asked her what was wrong. She’d been so brave up to now, so courageous—he couldn’t bear to see her so utterly lost.

  ‘If you confront her and she denies it, how will you know if she is telling you the truth?’

  She swallowed, blinking back the moisture before it spilled. He wanted to hold her close but feared too much sympathy and her spirit would break entirely. ‘Would it help you to know I am starting to doubt her involvement?’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘I believe our man in the cellar is behind it all. And Jane was acting out of revenge. You heard her speak of her brother.’ He frowned. ‘Have there been any accidents at your mill? Lives lost?’

  She gazed up at him. ‘None. I swear it. Grandfather ran the safest mill in Yorkshire and I have kept to that standard. There have been a few accidents, but nothing fatal. And all victims well compensated, I swear.’

  ‘And I believe you.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You are covered in soot and dirt. You are cold, you are tired and these things are playing on your mind. Questioning Mrs Falkner can wait.’

  ‘It can’t. I have to hear it from her lips. Will you come with me?’

  He sighed. He’d learned that if Merry Draycott made a decision, he might as well go along with it, because she was stubborn and determined and rarely took no for an answer. ‘If that is your wish.’ They walked up the stairs together. ‘First, though, we wash and change. Quite honestly I can’t stand the smell. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drink brandy again.’

  She managed a small chuckle.

>   When Beth met them at the door to the nursery, Merry was feeling a little less shaken.

  ‘How is Mrs Falkner?’ Merry asked. All her old fears about fevers and sickness that she’d had since her parents’ deaths pressed down on her. She pushed them away. She needed to look into Caro’s eyes when she asked her questions.

  ‘Better, miss. Sitting up, giving orders.’ Beth grinned.

  With Charlie behind her, Merry crept into the dimly lit room. The flush of fever lay on Caro’s cheeks and her eyes were unnaturally bright.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she croaked.

  ‘Nice welcome,’ Merry said, surging forwards, forcing the dry panic in her throat down with a quick swallow. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Better.’ Caro smiled. ‘Poor Tommy has been worried, but Beth has been a wonderful nurse.’ She glanced at the girl with a fond smile. Beth bobbed and left. ‘I will be up and about in a day or so.’

  ‘Thank goodness.’

  ‘You look pale,’ Caro said. ‘You should not be here. We do not want you taking ill, too.’ She gestured to Charlie, who had remained in the doorway.

  ‘We need to talk to you. Whoever attacked us at Draycott House has followed us here to Durn,’ Merry said.

  Caro’s blue eyes widened; she paled beneath her flush. ‘What happened? Are you hurt?’

  Merry took her hand, felt the dampness and the heat. ‘I am fine, Caro. But I must ask you some questions, if you would agree?’

  A shuttered expression passed over Caro’s face. It always did whenever anyone questioned her. Merry clenched her hands, trying to believe her friend had nothing to do with what was happening.

  ‘We wanted to ask you about Jane, Mrs Falkner.’ Charlie’s deep voice was gentle. ‘How did she come to be in your company?’

  Caro swallowed.

  ‘Would you like water?’ Merry asked.

  Caro nodded and sipped from the glass Merry held to her lips.

  She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. ‘She arrived at the house in Skepton two days before the fire. She said she had heard it was a refuge and begged admittance.’

  ‘You had never met her before?’ Charlie pressed, stepping closer to the bed.

  Merry watched Caro’s face, looking for anything—guilt, fear.

  Caro looked Merry straight in the eyes. ‘Never. Nor had the other girls.’ She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. ‘Are you saying Jane has something to do with this? Wretched woman. I wish I had never set eyes on her.’

  ‘We were captured by Jane and some men, one of whom spoke like a gentleman,’ Merry said.

  Caro gasped and looked horrified. ‘Captured? What do you mean captured?’

  A wave of relief washed over Merry. She knew people. She’d studied them. Caro was genuinely shocked and concerned. Merry turned her gaze to Charlie. His expression was unreadable, his eyes shadowed.

  Caro stared at him. ‘You think I—?’ Her voice broke. Her eyes swam with tears. ‘I had something to do with this?’

  Merry picked up the water, but Caro waved it away. She struggled upright in the bed. ‘If you believe such a thing, I must leave.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Merry said, feeling her own throat become thick and damp. She sniffed. ‘Not for a minute.’ Well, it was only a small white lie. She gazed up at Charlie. ‘And nor does his lordship.’

  ‘Not any longer,’ he said abruptly, as if he’d finally made up his mind. ‘I keep thinking I had heard the man’s voice before, though. Did you recognise him at all, Merry?’

  Merry thought back to the dank cellar, to the few words she’d heard, before the conversation became muffled.

  She shrugged. ‘He sounded like a toff. And he knew you right away.’

  Caro frowned at Charlie. ‘A friend of yours?’ She tilted her head. ‘An odd coincidence. Was it also merely chance you found her on the road, my lord?’

  Charlie’s lip curled. ‘Nice try, Mrs Falkner.’

  ‘Stop it, both of you,’ Merry said. She stared at the counterpane, a gorgeously embroidered work of art. She ran her fingers over the threads, tracing the outline of entwined roses. ‘We know Jane is involved. If we find her, we will find our answer.’

  ‘I don’t agree,’ Charlie said. ‘I think it is the man we need to find. He was clearly in charge.’

  ‘But Jane will surely lead us to him. Or her accomplices will. They would probably betray their mother for a guinea or two. I know their type.’

  ‘I don’t doubt you are right on that score,’ Charlie said. He looked down at Caro. ‘I am sorry if I was overly harsh, Mrs Falkner. My concern is for Merry.’

  Caro looked at him for a moment. One of her all-too-rare sweet smiles curved her lips. ‘Mine too, your lordship. I apologise for voicing my suspicions also.’

  He grinned at her. ‘We will leave you to rest. Come, Merry, you are exhausted. We will decide our next step in the morning.’

  There he went, ordering her about again. But it had been a gruelling day and her head felt filled with thick wool; she could do nothing more than take his arm.

  Aware of Merry sleeping in her chamber upstairs, Charlie paced his study. He would not go to her. She needed her rest.

  God, she’d seen him naked, his very soul exposed, and she’d been wonderful. Calm, courageous and kind. Unbelievably, the sound of her voice in that cellar had held his dark visions at bay.

  He’d found a light in the darkness and now duty required he let her go.

  Earlier today he’d proposed they marry, out of a sense of frustration, but then when he thought she might say yes he’d felt an unexpected flood of joy. Until she turned him down.

  Why shouldn’t he be happy? Like Robert. Nothing Father could do would harm Robert any more. He had married an heiress.

  What harm would it do if he also married where he willed? Where he—God was he even thinking this?—where he…loved.

  Was love this strange restlessness inside him, this need to meld with Merry, to be as one? Or was this just him again trying to escape? Had he lost any sense of himself, who he was, what he owed his position, his father, the men who had died because of him? Had sleepless nights and guilt finally taken their toll?

  It seemed more than likely, given that men in his position did not marry for love. They married for political reasons. For reasons of power and increased status. To acquire a suitable hostess. And to beget heirs.

  They married women like Allison Purtefoy because the arbiters of his world said women like Merry weren’t good enough.

  They were wrong. So bloody wrong.

  Merry was worth twice most of the females of his acquaintance and three times the vapid Lady Allison. He pressed his fingers to his aching temples in an attempt to ease the residual headache from the blow to his skull.

  Only Merry had no interest in marrying him. She’d made that perfectly clear.

  He rubbed at the pain in his chest.

  She was right not to want him. He was little more than a shell since Waterloo, going through the motions, clinging to his duty to stop himself from tipping into darkness.

  Which meant he had no right to hold Merry to their promised betrothal. The only thing he could do for her was rid her of whoever was trying to harm her. He’d at least have the satisfaction of knowing she was safe.

  Damn it. All that torture in that bloody black cellar and he’d walked away with nothing. He put his glass down on the table.

  The man who had come to their prison beneath the barn had spoken with power and authority. He was a far more dangerous opponent than Jane Harper. Merry was right, though, the woman was the key. And he needed to find her quickly.

  He rang the bell.

  While he waited for Logan, he went to the pigeonholes at one end of his bookshelf and pulled out a map. He spread it flat on his desk. He stared at the map of the moors and villages around Durn. ‘Where are you hiding, Jane Harper?’ he muttered.

  ‘My lord?’ The butler looked as if he’d dressed hurri
edly.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb your rest,’ Charlie said. ‘I have need of men tonight. Grooms, footmen, anyone you think useful in a brawl.’

  Horror filled the butler’s eyes, though he clearly tried not to look as if he thought his master had run mad. ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Have them meet me in the gunroom in half an hour.’

  ‘Right away, my lord.’

  Poor Logan, he might never be the same again.

  He stared at the map. He’d start at the inn. There might be tracks in the snow. If he found nothing there, he would visit every farmhouse and hovel within ten miles. There was nowhere she could hide.

  At the inn, the smell of smoke hung in the cold night air, oppressive and choking. While his men waited outside, Charlie spoke to a very disgruntled landlord. Not only had he lost his stores, his guest had disappeared, leaving behind her belongings and her unpaid shot. ‘You have no idea where she went?’

  The man glowered from beneath his nightcap. ‘She ain’t been seen since yesterday afternoon. Her and the bully boys she had with her ran off and left me trying to save my barn. Not a hair of ‘em have I seen. They must have done it. I’m ruined.’

  Charlie felt a twinge of guilt. He’d have to do something to help the fellow. But not now. ‘I will inspect her chamber, if you please.’

  ‘Help yourself, my lord. An’ if you finds her, you leave her to me.’

  ‘The magistrate will deal with her.’ Charlie ran up the stairs to the room from which he’d been so rudely carted that afternoon. The smell of smoke seemed worse up here than it had below.

  He rifled through her meagre belongings. Her valise contained a few clothes and some old yellowed letters tied in a ribbon. Love letters? It seemed odd that she’d left without such personal items. Very odd.

  He lifted the mattress. Nothing. The pillows. He opened the drawer of a small roll-top desk. Among her handkerchiefs, he found a note in a bold hand. Dated two days ago, it set up a meeting at an abandoned cottage a short distance outside of the village. No signature.

  The mystery man? Perhaps he’d find the pair of them at this cottage? He stuffed the correspondence in his pocket in case it gave some clues as to where she might have gone if the cottage proved a dead end and headed down to his men.