The earl looked sharply at him. “Dent is the agent?” he asked incredulously. “I did not give him credit for such treachery. I didn’t think he had a brain.”
“Nor does he have,” agreed Massey contemptuously. “I had to nose-lead him through the whole procedure, but knowing his ever present need for cash, it wasn’t difficult to persuade him to procure the information. The only difficulty was to persuade him not to boast of it. The French were exceedingly grateful, and generous to a fault. However, I have now found it necessary, by indirect means of course, to inform the authorities of his duplicity and thus ensure his removal from society. Nonetheless, if I had realized that it was you who would be dispatched to Spain, I would have arranged the theft of information earlier, but it seems that even then they could not manage to kill you. Pity, it would have saved me the exertion.”
Through all this, Caroline stood with bated breath, holding on to Dog’s collar in the doorway. Her instinct was to seek help, but she dared not leave the mine not knowing the outcome of the confrontation, and instead, watched the conflict before her with an overpowering fascination.
The antagonists faced each other, no word was spoken only a look of pure loathing passed between them before they gave a brief salute and engaged with the ring of steel on steel. Both men were considered formidable adversaries in the art and this was no affair of niceties but a swift, dangerous duel. They fought with deliberate ferocity, each man aware only of the other’s blade. Their surroundings ceased to exist as they concentrated on their moves, feigning, thrusting, parrying in an intense battle.
The earl lunged forward, delivering a lightening thrust in tierce. Massey caught forte on forte, almost losing his footing on the dust-laden floor, recovering only with a visible effort.
There was no other sound but that of the clash of blades and the opponents’ breathing coming in harsh gasps
It had been Massey pressing the attack, attempting to lure the earl into leaving himself open, but each time his blade was turned aside. He began to tire, and seeing this, the earl immediately became the aggressor, pressing the attack. Massey countered with a flying tip to which the earl responded with the same move, only to be turned away. He hesitated a fraction of a second as if to make a feint and prepare an unexpected move, but instead, as Massey moved to counter him, he completed his first move, turning it into a thrust. Shortening the distance, he flicked his wrist and touched the middle of Massey’s throat then withdrew. It was at this point that Massey realized that the earl merely toyed with him.
Being driven back against the table, Massey, his strength beginning to fail, found himself unable to do more than counter the earl’s moves. He had lost his ability to attack but still the duel continued.
As from a great distance the earl’s voice came, demanding an answer, “What?” replied Massey, uncertain of the words.
“You murdered the boy didn’t you?” insisted the earl breathlessly.
Massey mechanically parried the thrust that passed before his misted eyes, knowing he had not the comparable strength to continue for much longer.
“Answer me,” commanded the earl as his point flashed under Massey’s guard, checked and withdrew.
Massey realized he had been spared and would continue to be spared time and time again. That until his opponent had his answer, he would toy with him as a cat would a mouse.
“Yes,” he spat in return, scarcely able to find the breath. “Yes I killed him, and enjoyed the process.” He had no strength to counter the move, a straight thrust in high carte aimed at the heart. He made one last attempt to parry it but managed only to deflect it so that it entered deeply into the shoulder.
The earl drew back his arm and prepared to repeat the move but a sudden cry from the doorway checked the attack.
“No, Richard, no,” cried Caroline as Massey slid slowly to the floor.
Flinging the rapier from him, the earl turned aside, unable in that moment to contain his anger. She ran forward to throw herself into his arms but he stood motionless, unable to respond, his energies spent.
As reason returned, he pressed her from him saying, “Henry and Trimm went to fetch the constable and his men. They should now be on their way here, along the coast road. Go and hurry them. I will remain here with Massey.”
Instantly she did as she was bid; now was not the time for questions, and mounting the mare, she set out of the yard at a gallop.
*****
The earl wiped the sweat from his brow, allowing the tension to seep from his body before he turned to where Massey was lying. “I believe it is not mortal,” he said, watching as Massey attempted to raise himself on one elbow, but cursing at the effort, was obliged to lie down again.
“Why didn’t you finish me?” he whispered hoarsely.
“There is no need. The authorities will do it for me,” replied the earl coldly. “That way my end will be achieved without any consequence to me or mine.”
“Ever the coward,” mocked Massey, but he drew back against the flagged floor at the look of hate that crossed the earl’s darkened visage.
“It isn’t too late, I may finish you yet,” threatened the earl contemptuously. Then after a moment’s pause, whilst he once more made an effort to regain his composure, “There is still one matter on which I am perplexed. How did you gain entry to Lordings when it was so heavily guarded?”
A sly look came over Massey’s ashen face. “Why, you almost caught me one night,” he scoffed. “You came out onto the paved walk, but still you did not see me.”
“Where were you?” demanded the earl.
“You truly did not see? Why I was hidden in the ivy, right by your side. I could almost have touched you. I used the secret stair that ran up the side of the chimney and into Elizabeth’s room in the east wing. I can’t believe you were in ignorance of it.”
“I had that sealed off years ago,” stated the earl incredulously. “It has never been used in my lifetime.”
“Elizabeth had it reopened, so that I could visit her in complete secrecy. I gained access whenever I wished,” and then slyly, to see his response, “I even used the stair when you were at home.”
The earl looked at him pityingly. “If you think to rouse my jealousy, you are quite mistaken. I care not when you visited her. Indeed, I would have wished you joy of her had I known. I bore no love whatsoever for my wife.”
A clattering in the yard heralded the arrival of Lord Stanton and the constabulary.
“Ah, our little tête-à-tête is over,” said the earl wearily. “You will no doubt be relieved to hear that I now relinquish your company to the authorities.” With this, he walked out into the cold winter air; not even noticing that he left his coat behind, all he was aware of was an overwhelming desire to be gone from this place.
Chapter Fifteen
Lady Victoria, upon paying her customary morning visit, had found her sister-in-law to be away from home and had instead contented herself with her brother’s company and they sat taking tea in the small salon of Waverly House.
Dog lay stretched out on the hearth. In time he felt he could become accustomed to London life, there were, after all, still rats to chase, cats to annoy and the occasional foray to be made on the kitchen. Life indeed was good, and he sighed heavily in his contentment.
“When does the building begin?” asked Victoria, refilling her teacup. “I swear, I never thought I would see the day when you would abandon Lordings, but from what I now know of the happenings there, I must admit that I will not mourn its going.”
“The foundations are being dug at this very moment,” said the earl, placing his cup on the small table at his side. “Caroline is insistent that it should be finished as soon as possible, though I can’t understand her hurry. I am quite content to remain in London, at least until this damn war is over. Where is Henry by-the-bye, don’t tell me that he has retreated to the country again?”
“Says he can’t abide city life,” affirmed Her Ladyship. “I told him I
wished to remain and he offered no objections. I am beginning to think he secretly prefers the company of his horses and dogs to mine, though he is welcome to them. I fare very well, I have you and Caroline and my circle of friends, so I need not be downcast. No doubt he will return soon enough when sport becomes slow. I, in the meantime, will have other events to occupy my time.”
Caroline entered, she was still dressed for the street, but at sight of her sister-in-law, she threw off her bonnet and came quickly forward. “Forgive me, Victoria,” she said, kissing the proffered cheek. “I had not expected you until later,” and casting her sister-in-law a meaningful look, “I have been to the milliners.”
“And did you find anything suitable?” asked Victoria.
“Oh, yes, eminently suitable, though I am to have a creation especially made, so it will take a little while.”
“If your talk is to be of bonnets and bows, my love, I will retire to my office,” said the earl, smiling, and rising he pressed a caress on his wife’s brow before turning to leave the room. At an almost imperceptible movement of his hand, Dog rose and followed obediently, watching his face with adoring eyes.
As the door closed behind them, Victoria sprang from her seat and threw her arms about Caroline. “He doesn’t know? He doesn’t even suspect?” she queried joyously.
“No, that’s the very best of it,” smiled Caroline, drawing her to sit beside her on the couch. “I dared not give the slightest hint for fear I could be wrong. You must be aware that it is what we have long desired. It will be a child that is truly Richard’s.”
“When can we expect the new arrival?” breathed Victoria.
“Dr. Leigh thinks late spring!”
“Richard can’t understand your desire for the house to be finished,” chuckled Victoria. “He doesn’t know that you’re nest building. When will you tell him?”
“This evening, after supper, when we are quite alone,” replied Caroline with a secret smile.
About the Author
Hazel Statham began writing at the age of fifteen, finally committing to paper the stories she spun as a child. Writing has been her passion ever since, although marriage, motherhood, and career left time for little else. Once she retired, however, she was able to devote herself to writing full-time, publishing her first novel in 2007. A longtime student of history, she writes mainly in the Regency and Georgian eras, though she has been known to dabble in the medieval as well. She lives in Staffordshire, England, with her husband, Terry, and their beloved yellow Labrador, Mollie.
Website: www.hazel-statham.co.uk
Blog: http://hazel-statham.blogspot.co.uk/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/hazel.statham.1
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