by Anne O'Brien
But do you love him? The insistent little voice in her head was not what Kate wanted to hear. She no longer knew the answer.
‘I had to come and see you,’ Richard continued. ‘Tell me that you have thought of me as much as I have thought of you.’
Kate returned his smile, responding to the warmth and unaccustomed spontaneity in her cousin’s appeal. ‘It is true that I have longed to see you,’ she admitted. ‘How many weeks it seems since we walked in the garden at Downham Hall.’ Her smile was replaced by a troubled frown. ‘I did not expect to see you here.’
‘Why not? Surely it is entirely appropriate for a close member of your family to pay a social visit. To enquire if you had recovered from the accident. We did not know until Sir Henry received Marlbrooke’s message, and then we learned that you were away from home—that you had gone to London. But now I am here, to see you for myself.’
Richard’s arms were still about her waist and, as she continued to smile up into his face, he drew her even closer.
‘You are more beautiful even than I remembered. In spite of the hair!’ He traced her cheekbone lightly with his thumb. ‘Dare I ask? Do you still love me or have you been seduced by the advantages of a marriage with Marlbrooke?’
Kate turned her face away. ‘It is a useless cause. I am entrapped into a political liaison with no hope of escape.’ She wondered fleetingly if Richard was aware that she had evaded the question. But apparently he was not.
‘Are you certain?’ Richard’s response surprised her, but she could read nothing in his enigmatic expression.
‘Of course. You must see that we cannot allow our … attachment to continue. The contracts have been signed and exchanged. My betrothal to Marlbrooke is now legal and cannot be broken. It is merely a matter of fixing a date for the ceremony.’
‘I see nothing except the sapphire of your eyes and your lovely face. And I know that, before death, I am not willing to give you up.’
Before Kate could shake her head in denial, Richard tightened his grasp, holding her firmly and lowering his mouth to hers. She pushed her hands against his shoulders, but he was unyielding and his lips became more demanding, so that she ceased to fight, but lay quiescent in his arms. He released her, but only to trace a series of kisses along her jaw and the line of her neck until he was prevented by the collar of her riding habit.
‘Well?’ he murmured. ‘Is it a useless cause?’
Kate searched Richard’s face with eyes full of turmoil. Dear Richard. He was so dependable … so fine and uncomplicated in his care for her. She had known him all her life and had been willing to see her future mapped out with his. But now … She tried to banish Marlbrooke’s avowal of love and his passionate demands on her body without success. Still, she shook her head a little to rid herself of that unwelcome presence and tried to give Richard an answer that would make sense of her feelings and could be given in honesty.
‘No … yes … Oh, Richard! This only makes an impossible situation even more painful. For both of us.’
Richard released her, but retained her hands in his strong grip. ‘Answer me this, Kate. Do you trust me?’
‘Of course.’ There was no problem here.
‘Then keep that thought close to your heart. Will you do that? Whatever happens in the future?’
Kate nodded. She read such calm assurance in Richard’s eyes. Whatever happened she knew that she would always find a haven in his arms. He was her one rock in the shifting sands of her present existence. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek shyly in gratitude.
‘Thank you, dear Richard.’
‘I am at your service, Mistress Harley, now and always. Come.’ He tucked her hand under his arm, gathering up the reins of the two browsing horses. ‘Let us walk a little way.’ They strolled across the short flower-strewn turf, quiet for a little time, enjoying each other’s presence.
On a sudden thought, Kate broke the companionable silence. ‘How did you know where to find me? I cannot believe that it was pure chance.’
‘No. I am not omniscient.’ Richard smiled down at her. ‘I went first to the Priory where Verzons directed me on to Widemarsh Manor. Mistress Gilliver told me where you would be.’
‘So you have been to the Priory?’ She frowned. ‘Was Marlbrooke there?’
‘I do not know. I did not stay to do more than dismount and speak to Master Verzons.’
‘I see. I am going to the Priory now.’
‘Then I will escort you.’
Kate contemplated attempting to dissuade Richard, but she detected a particularly stubborn tilt to his jaw. After all, it could do no harm for Marlbrooke to meet her cousin. Could it? A cool breeze touched her spine with its icy fingers.
‘Very well.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘We must ride towards the Common first—I have something to collect on the way.’
The mare made her way back enthusiastically to the lure of a warm stable and Kate found herself soothed by the welcome of warm stone gilded by the pale sunshine and the glitter of the mullioned windows. She and Richard trotted side by side down the beech avenue, the stable lad duly collected from under the old oak and following at a respectful distance, and turned into the stable yard to find it surprisingly busy. Kate saw Jenks, who was hovering innocently outside one of the open stable doors, but otherwise there was any number of grooms and stable lads who had seen fit to gather within hearing of a conversation taking place within one of the stalls. There were raised voices; one of them, calmer than the other, was recognisable as Marlbrooke.
‘So what I want to know, my lord, is what do you intend to do about it?’
‘I sympathise with the situation, Mr Moreton, and the immediacy of it, but it will take time. I have already had the Reverend Peters here to discuss the problem at length, demanding that I take personal responsibility. I can and I will. But I cannot remove every highway robber between here and Kington in the blink of an eye.’
‘I take your point, my lord, but the trade in Wintering-ham is going to rack and ruin. Good folk won’t turn up to the market any more. They won’t cross the Common and they will certainly not travel after dusk.’
‘Mr Moreton, with the best will in the world, I cannot—’
‘The old Harley family was quick to support the local community. Now we need you to take action.’
At this point they emerged into the sunlight, Marlbrooke and a tall, lean gentleman with a florid complexion.
Marlbrooke sighed.
‘When I spoke with the Reverend Peters about it,’ Moreton continued, outrage heavy in his sharp tones, ‘all he could say was that he would offer up prayers on Sunday. Prayers, I ask you! I lost twenty head of sheep last week, driven out of my home pasture in broad daylight. And he is going to pray over me! A few harsh words from the pulpit on hell and damnation for those who steal the property of God-fearing men would be more to the point!’
‘As I informed the Reverend Peters, I will do what I can, but I cannot promise instant success.’ Marlbrooke became aware of the grinning audience. ‘Is there a problem here? Have you no work to be doing?’ His voice remained quiet, but his eyebrows rose. The grooms and lads vanished, except for Jenks, who came to hold the head of Goldfinch for Kate to dismount.
‘Can I offer you a mug of ale, sir, before you leave?’
‘Thank you, but no.’ Somewhat mollified, Moreton’s voice softened from its previous harsh tones. ‘I am sorry to burden you with this, Marlbrooke. As a JP, I can deal with thieves and highwaymen when they come before me in court, but robbery on the King’s highway? It is beyond my expertise.’
‘I will employ some of my retainers to ride patrol and keep watch for a week or two. See if we can flush them from their haunts of wickedness! Does that sound sufficiently Biblical to satisfy Peters?’
‘It should! And I would be grateful.’ Moreton smiled his appreciation and offered his hand. ‘Good day then, my lord. Mistress. Sir.’ He bowed briefly to Kate and Richard, swung on to his mount and rode out of
the stable yard.
‘I suppose you heard the general gist of that conversation.’ Marlbrooke looked up at Kate with a rueful smile. ‘It would appear that the Harleys were far more competent than I in upholding law and order. Now why did I think it would be any different?’ Taking the mare’s reins from Jenks, he possessed himself of her hands as she dismounted. He raised them to his lips.
‘Perhaps. I envy you your confidence in dealing with such a major task.’ Kate smiled, her face lighting up, before his touch sent such a jolt through her system that she instantly sobered. It was immeasurably different from the quiet warmth when Richard had kissed her lips not an hour ago. She was aware of the colour in her cheeks as her blood ran hot and the pulse that began to flutter under the fragile skin of her throat. She frowned, but did not pull away as she found her gaze captured and held by the naked emotion that warmed his grey eyes. It took her breath away.
‘Was I confident? I did not think so. Should I perhaps enquire from Mistress Gilliver, as a Harley born and bred, you understand, the methods that she would recommend in dealing with our local thieves, footpads and so forth? Blood of bat, do you think? Carefully sprinkled around the Common with suitable spells and curses?’
‘You could.’ Kate breathed carefully to regain her composure and still her heartbeat fast. ‘But in all honesty, I doubt that Aunt Gilliver would be the best authority. I doubt that she would even show an interest!’
‘God help me if she did! I think your aunt would be more likely to turn me into the bat than give me any assistance.’
Kate chuckled, eyes alight with mischief, and found herself returning the warm pressure on her hands. ‘I will ask her for you, if you truly wish it, but don’t expect a polite reply.’ Then she remembered Richard, who had dismounted and was now standing behind her, and turned to see him watching this interchange with an arrested expression. ‘Can I introduce you, my lord? This is my cousin Richard Hotham, come to see how I am. Richard, my lord Marlbrooke.’ She felt a need to explain further. ‘I met Richard in the park on my way here.’
Marlbrooke released her hands, bowed. His voice was clipped, giving nothing away. ‘Kate has spoken about you. I expected that you would pay us a visit sooner rather than later.’
‘Indeed.’ Richard moved forward to stand beside Kate and touch her arm in a proprietorial gesture. ‘When we received the message concerning Kate’s whereabouts, the family asked that I come.’
‘I was more than a little surprised that Mistress Harley was allowed to journey to her aunt’s house on her own without an escort of any degree.’ Marlbrooke’s voice had taken on a glacial quality that Kate rarely heard.
‘That was my own choice,’ she intervened quickly, ‘you know that it cannot reflect on the concern of my family.’ She felt compelled to come to Richard’s defence.
‘Of course. But it would not, my dear, be my chosen course of action. I will not allow you to put yourself in such a position of potential danger in the future, you may be sure.’
The tension between the three was a sharp as a honed knife. Kate frowned at Marlbrooke and moved away from Richard’s grasp so that she stood between them. The gleam in Marlbrooke’s eye indicated that he was aware of her deliberate stand and she knew he was not one to resist a challenge. He did not disappoint her. His response was unsubtle and forthright.
‘Your cousin needs no protection from me, dearest Kate.’ His sardonic humour was most pronounced; Kate flushed and resisted a sharp reply. The Viscount turned to Richard. ‘Do you intend to stay long, Mr Hotham?’ It was a bland enquiry, his expression suspiciously friendly.
‘Mistress Gilliver has offered me a bed at Widemarsh. She was very welcoming. I will perhaps stay for a few days.’
‘I would not expect otherwise.’ Again that enigmatic response, Marlbrooke showing his teeth in a smile that held neither warmth nor humour. ‘Mistress Gilliver is very predictable in her loyalties. I expect I shall see you again at the Priory. Now, if you will—’ There was a clatter of shoes on the cobbles of the stable yard and a sharp cry from Elspeth, the kitchen maid, who appeared from the house at a run laced with panic.
‘My lord! My lord! You must come.’
‘What is it, Elspeth?’ He turned to face her.
She came to a halt before him, hands clenched in the folds of her apron, gasping for breath.
‘It is her ladyship. She is taken bad, my lord, very bad. Mistress Felicity is beside herself. Mistress Neale says you must come at once.’
Without a backward glance or further discussion, Marlbrooke thrust the reins of Goldfinch to Jenks and strode towards the house.
* * *
Marlbrooke took the stairs at a run. Kate followed as quickly as she could, hitching up her unwieldy borrowed skirts and abandoning Richard in the stable yard, to follow or not as he saw fit. A terrible foreboding smote her, deepened by the stricken look on Elspeth’s face and the unwillingness of the kitchen maid to meet her eyes, making her heart beat faster and her palms become damp. When she reached the open door of Lady Elizabeth’s bedchamber, her worst fears were confirmed. It was, she thought, a scene out of hell.
The atmosphere was unpleasantly close, not helped by a brightly blazing fire, numerous candles and closed curtains. Lady Elizabeth lay on her bed, motionless except for her head, which tossed from side to side in jerky, uncontrolled seizures. Mistress Neale stooped beside her, trying with soft words and gentle hands—but without success—to calm the desperate actions. Verzons, initially summoned to help carry the lady from the floor where she had collapsed, stood helplessly at the foot of the bed, for once his face less than impassive.
Marlbrooke now stood beside him, attempting to wring some sense from a weeping Felicity who knelt by the bed, hands clasped in fervent prayer.
Kate’s entrance had an unforeseen dynamic effect on the terrible scene. As Felicity’s tear-drenched eyes focused on her she abandoned her petition for mercy from the Almighty and staggered to her feet, patches of raw colour staining her habitually sallow cheeks, her hands clenched into fists as she approached to challenge this perpetrator of all their evils. Her voice rose to a harsh shriek as she addressed Marlbrooke.
‘Would you let her into this chamber? She is the cause of all this.’
‘Mistress Felicity …’ Marlbrooke tried to reach out with a calming hand, to prevent what might indeed become a physical attack, but it was knocked aside with careless violence.
‘It started when she arrived. She came into this house under false pretences, pretending such innocence. And from one of those damned Puritan families! She ensnared my lady and enticed her with potions of the devil. I warned her of how it would be—but would she listen? My lady was far too trusting and Mistress Kate was far too clever for that. She made my lady dependent, soothing her pain, giving her empty promises—and then she fed her this poison. Now she will die and it is all her fault.’ Hot tears of passion dripped unregarded down her cheeks.
‘Felicity, you have no proof of any of this.’ Marlbrooke tried to be gentle in the face of such vicious emotion, but to no avail.
‘Oh, no, I have no proof.’ The vicious, breathy voice continued as Felicity dashed away the tears. ‘But I have watched. I have seen her smiles and gentle ways. The way she has twisted my lady round her finger so that my lady favours her above me. Gives her gifts. Laughs with her. Takes whatever potions and ointments are given to her with honeyed words of deceit.’ She paused for breath to point at Kate, finger stabbing. ‘And now she is in league with that witch Gilliver Adams. And you talk to me about proof. I do not need any more proof! And neither will you if my lady dies.’
‘I have never—’ Kate’s face was as pale and drawn as the wax of the candles, with a faint sheen of perspiration on her brow and upper lip as panic held her in its ferocious grip.
‘Never? Can you deny that you have given my lady poison? She drank that—’ Felicity pointed to a small glass container beside the bed ‘—left by you—and look at her. She will die.
’ Felicity covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
For the time it took to draw breath, those in the room were struck dumb by the force of the accusations against Kate, but then Marlbrooke broke the tension. ‘We will deal with all that later. For now it is more important that we—’ Before he could say more, Felicity emerged from her bout of hysterical weeping and flung herself at Kate, her thin, wiry body gaining speed and agility from her intense distress. Kate was too surprised to defend herself and felt Felicity’s fingernails catch and rake down her cheek. She cried out in pain and surprise, stepping back. Marlbrooke hastily intervened before more damage could be done, grasped the lady’s wrists and half-led, half-dragged her to the door. His face was stern and drawn as he turned to Verzons.
‘We do not need this at such a time. Please convey Mistress Felicity to her room. And lock the door if you have to.’
‘Certainly, my lord.’ As relief swept his features with the prospect of action, the steward took the distressed lady by the arm and led her protesting and weeping from the room.
Kate stood where Felicity had left her.
‘What do we do?’ Marlbrooke demanded, turning to her, face set in grim lines. ‘What has she drunk?’
‘I do not know.’ Kate felt dazed by the attack and accusations, incapable of either sensible thought or action. Her mind simply refused to function, swamped by the bitterness in Felicity’s words and manner. ‘I do not have enough skill or knowledge. She thinks I poisoned her. She thinks I would kill her.’ Her eyes were wide, fixed in horror on the agony of the lady on the bed. ‘I cannot help.’
Marlbrooke wasted no time. Ignoring his surroundings or the presence of servants, he seized Kate by the shoulders and shook her.
‘Listen to me,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Look at me,’ he ordered, waiting until she did so, ignoring the fear in her eyes. ‘You are our only hope here, Kate. Forget Felicity’s words. Use what you know. If anyone can save her, you can.’ He shook her again to reinforce his words, forcing himself to ignore the blood that oozed from the livid scratches or the panic-stricken grief in the violet depths of those eyes, which pleaded with him for compassion. He could not afford to give way to impulse, to soothe and stroke and gather her close in his arms.
