She fumbled with the chain at last, and pulled the door wide. "All right, Dr. Gold. Come in. You have five minutes."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Vanessa found herself staring out of the window distractedly, poised on the edge of her chair as if awaiting some momentous event. She couldn't understand why she was on tenterhooks all the time.
Perhaps it was the thundery weather which had rolled in the day before, and had persisted on and off ever since. She had never liked storms, and even the cheerful chamber, with a good fire burning in the grate, did nothing to dispel her sense of foreboding.
Clifford had told her that things were progressing slowly in their efforts to bring the killers of the poor women in the district to justice. She wished she could do something, help them in their quest. But she knew she was better off keeping out of their way.
In any case, she could not think practically when the accusations Clifford had made against her half-brother still rang in her ears. Just when she had been feeling calm and assured of her happy future with Clifford, everything had come tumbling down like a house of cards. She knew she was on edge, but could do nothing to quell the nagging sense of there being a piece missing in the puzzle which she needed to discover before it was too late.
A lack of sleep had done nothing to improve her tumultuous state of mind. Though she had not admitted it to Clifford, the nightmares which had tormented her had only increased. All those bizarre, horrible images...
She was feeling completely frazzled, and the sudden appearance of her monthly had done nothing to improve her mood.
She opened her window further, trying to catch any sort of fresh breeze. The air crackled with lightning, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
She had changed into a lighter-weight gown, but still the dark brown muslin with cream trim clung to her oppressively. She busied herself for a time by bathing her temples with some lavender water, but it too gave her little relief.
Vanessa went downstairs finally, determined to find a book in the library which would take her mind off all her disquieting thoughts. It was as if there were a blank space in her mind that she needed to fill. An urgent thing which had to be done, though she could not recall exactly what it was. She wondered if it was due to her impending marriage, with the wedding still scheduled to take place at Stone Court the following day.
On her way downstairs, she met with young Mr. Jerome, who seemed in a state of agitation equal to if not greater than her own. They almost collided midway as he dashed up the steps.
"Pardon me, Miss Hawkesworth, for charging past you in such a hasty manner. My brother Martin, whom I mentioned to you, has left his regiment and is nowhere to be found. The Regiment believed he had extended his pass by remaining with us here. But since he never arrived at my parents' home, I can only conclude that something most peculiar must have befallen him and his new wife. I'm just saying goodbye to my aunt and uncle, packing, and heading home."
"I hope you find him soon, and that all of this has been a simple misunderstanding," she said sincerely, her heart moved by the evident love of Samuel for his older brother.
"As do I. Farewell." He bowed to her and continued to ascend.
Vanessa went the rest of the way down to the library. Though she tried to absorb herself in a book of poetry, her thoughts again began to stray. The mention of passion's dart in the poem she had been reading prompted her to go over to the desk and help herself to a fresh sheet of paper.
She wrote down all of her disquieting nightmares, and then the details of everything she learned had happened in the district in the past few months. She even included the dates of her parents' deaths and that of Aunt Agatha. She included the body of the young woman, and the date she had been killed, putting one day on either side since they could not be certain when the attack had actually taken place. Finally, she included the date she had fallen ill, and had been assisted by Clifford.
For all of the events that she could date with any certainty, Gerald had been present. Her father had said her mother had been killed a hunting accident. Why then did she recall an arrow in the back, far away from the archery butts? The lovely box hedge maze? A blue dress, blood... Torn clothes.
Why could she not remember!
Her hands began to shake so badly, she dropped the pen, splattering ink all over the sheet. No, it couldn't be...
Her father had loved her mother. But if not him, then who? Gerald? Would he have shielded his son from a charge of murder? One of her two older cousins? Paul would have been too young. Would he have shielded his nephews?
She sighed. If it had been Gerald, to expose him would have meant her father also losing his only son as well as his wife. She was sure he had been unable to bear the thought of sending his heir to the gallows.
Aunt Agatha? They said she had had an apoplectic fit. But a pillow over her face could also kill suddenly...
She jumped out of the chair as the thought struck her, just as a huge peal of thunder crashed right outside the house. She cried out and clutched her hand to her heart.
Damn Clifford. He had her suspecting the worst of Gerald now. Surely he could not be as bad as that.
But she could not explain her own illness, or being locked in the house. Oysters, or worse? Gerald was said to have been taken ill. But it could all have been a lie.
What of the other strange events which had taken place recently? She shuddered as she thought of what the Widow Marsters and her daughters had suffered at the hands of their attacker. Attackers... It would have taken more than one man to subdue four women. At least two or three.
And what of the poor girl jammed in the sluice gate? And the highwaymen? Or were they all one and the same...
Oh God, surely not Peter and Toby as well...
She paced in front of the window for several moments. What of the Cavendishes? Or even the Stones?
Vanessa felt as though she were truly going mad. She clapped her hand to her head and forced herself to calm down. To think. No, not the Stones. She would stake her life on it. Clifford and Henry had been with her and the Jerome sisters both the days and nights when the Widow and her daughters and the girl had been attacked and killed. They could not have been to blame.
Nor could Malcolm, son of the local magistrate, who had been with his sister or the rest of the group at the doctor's house. Alfred Jerome was far too young, and bookish as well. Samuel Jerome was in the army, only on leave for a short time. He could not have committed months of depredations. And he had been doing his best to track down the culprits.
He did have six brothers, but one was now missing, and he genuinely feared for him. The rest lived at Barton, not an impossible journey, but certainly well away from the London or Oxford roads. Moreover, he simply didn't seem the type, not in the least wild or morally dissolute.
Two or three men. Perhaps more. If not any of them, then who? It had to be someone local. Geoffrey Branson would have combed every inn looking for strangers after each attack. Samuel had pointed out that horses and men could only travel so far before needing shelter.
So many deaths. She shook her head. Why had she not seen it before? Even if she could not prove any of her suppositions about the death of her mother and aunt, there had to be something which would point to the killers of those poor women.
If Clifford suspected Gerald, he had to also suspect her cousins. Peter was clever, but Toby was a tippler. All she had to do was get him to say something careless.
But did she really want to destroy her whole family, risk breaking her aunt's heart? She was terrified that Paul might even be involved in some way, though he was supposed to be safely at Cambridge.
She wrung her hands together for a time, preparing herself for the greatest leap of faith into the darkness she had ever taken.
At last she made her decision. It might be awfully hard to prove who all the men had been who had attacked the Widow, but it might be enough to cut the head off the snake. If she could prove Gerald was responsibl
e, then the district would be safe, as would she. She would not then have to worry about Clifford marrying her only because he pitied her and was trying to protect her.
In any case, she hardly thought he would wish to marry the sister of a murderer. The scandal would drive her from Millcote, and she would never see Clifford again.
This thought left her gasping for breath. She had to sit again abruptly. She could not bear it. It was selfish of her to want him so badly, she knew, but she longed for him with every fiber of her being. Surely she deserved a little happiness for once in her life, though she would have to pay for it dearly.
Vanessa tried to calm herself and weigh the evidence again in a more composed manner. If she went to Geoffrey Branson the magistrate now, she would only sound as mad as everyone said she was. She took a clean sheet of paper and forced herself to re-write it more logically in her neatest hand.
At last she was finished, and her recollections and suspicions did not seem so mad after all. Not on her part at any rate. It had been no brain fever when she had been eight. Of that she was sure now.
And while she was furious with her father for the lie he had told, she could see why he had done it. He had faced the same choice ten years ago that she did now, and both quailed.
She had no absolute proof, nothing except her own memory. But that did not mean she could not find some.
As she sat in front of the evidence of Gerald's crimes, she felt torn in two. She was supposed to marry Clifford tomorrow. Start their honeymoon. She longed for him so, it was like an incessant throbbing in her womb which simply would not be denied. They could be so happy together if only she...
A marriage founded upon a lie was doomed to failure, she reminded herself.
But was it so wrong to want just one day, one night, with the man she loved?
She heard footsteps approaching, and grasped the paper. She folded it hastily, tucking it into her bosom just as the door swung open.
"There you are, my dear." Clifford came forward into the room and kissed her hand. Then he peered at her more closely. "What on earth is wrong? You look as though you've seen a ghost."
Vanessa hesitated only an instant before she flung herself into his arms and kissed him ardently. Clifford could not help but respond, and slanted his mouth across hers in a passionate kiss which left them both trembling.
They tumbled onto the sofa in a flurry of petticoats as she lost herself in the sensations only her beloved could give. She arched her hips, cradling his own in the vee between her legs.
Clifford was stunned, and a momentary fit of weakness allowed him to revel in the intimacies. But at length he raised his lips and hands and rasped, "If you wish to go to the altar a virgin tomorrow, you'd better sit up in that chair and stop looking at me like that."
"I can't help it, Clifford. I want you so much."
His brows rose as the hair on the back of his neck prickled. There was something odd here... "Not that I'm not flattered, dearest, and the feeling is of course mutual. But may I ask what prompted that sudden revelation? A touch of the vapors?"
She stroked his cheek tenderly. "The thought that life is so short and fleeting. Is it wrong to want to have a little bit of happiness in my life?"
"I should hope you will have a mountain of happiness." His brows knit. "Forgive me, Vanessa but it's not like you to be so gloomy. Has something happened?"
"I, er, oh Lord help me, Clifford. I can't bear this any longer!" she said, nearly in tears.
He saw her begin to quiver all over and quickly got off the sofa and helped her sit up. "Bear what, my love?"
She took a deep steadying breath. "You've suspected for some time that Gerald is responsible for many, if not all, the crimes that have been perpetrated in the area, have you not?"
He nodded. "Yes, dearest."
"And you suspected him of poisoning me that night I was ill, did you not?"
"Yes, dearest, I did, and still do."
She took the plunge. "Then how can you want to marry me? How can I wed you knowing that my brother is a heinous criminal?"
He stroked the tears from her cheeks tenderly. "Because you and I have by some miracle been brought together and fallen in love. You're not responsible for the crimes of your half-brother."
She grasped his shoulder and shook him lightly. "But we are talking about murder, rape, goodness knows what else. You and our children would never be able to hold our heads up around here again."
He cradled her chin in his long warm fingers so that she could not look away from his penetrating gaze. His lips were just inches from her own. "Come now, Vanessa, I've already told you, the opinion of idle gossips is of no interest to me. I'm a powerful man in my own right. I don't give a fig what they say. You cannot be held accountable for his actions. I would marry you no matter what."
Vanessa resisted the temptation to kiss him until the two of them could no longer deny their longing for each other. But she needed to concentrate.
She rose from the sofa before he could forestall her. Pacing up and down in front of the hearth for a few moments in an agony of indecision, she finally took the plunge. She walked up to Clifford to face him head on, and pulled the paper out of her gown.
His eyes widened for a moment as he watched her hand disappear down her bodice. He sighed in relief when he saw what she held out.
"What is this, dearest?"
"I had thought to wait until after tomorrow to tell you all this, but now found I cannot. I wanted one day and night of joy with you. I planned to marry you and would tell you the next day, after our wedding night. But I find I cannot risk our entire future, and the well-being of everyone else, by withholding what I know any longer."
Clifford looked at the paper carefully, sinking into a chair, almost overwhelmed. He heaved a heavy sigh. "It is no less than what I suspected. In our society we deal in surface appearances. Most of the time we never have any reason to dig more deeply to what lies beneath. I took Gerald at face value as a well-heeled young man, wild and wayward, but not completely vicious. Perhaps if I had spoken sooner....."
She took his hand. "I am as much to blame. If I had revealed all I had seen, all I suspected he had done to me years ago, perhaps he would not have been allowed to roam freely, preying upon the innocent."
"Well, we are either both to blame, or neither of us. Ultimately, Gerald is responsible for his crimes, and he shall pay. Your cousins too, if they were involved. And now that you have been so candid with me, I feel I owe you equal candor."
She looked at him expectantly, steeling herself for the worst. She was sure he was about to break off the engagement, and forced her expression into a emotionless mask.
"Vanessa, I love you and do not wish to hurt you. But the truth is.."
She tried not to scream her disappointment aloud.
"Darling, I have to admit here and now that I did not win you entirely fairly at cards. Malcolm, well, suffice it to say, he helped me to cheat. I did it to save you from the other men at the table, little thinking we would have to go through with the marriage.
"But once I saw you run out into the road and nearly get trampled by the horses, I knew I loved you. Always had. So don't blame yourself for wanting to keep the truth from me for one day and night. Until our relationship had been consummated." He blushed. "I wanted that too."
She stared at him, and then said, "If you're trying to tell me that you cheated because you want to give me the chance to break it off because you no longer wish to marry me..."
He pulled her tightly to him, making her head swim as she felt his desire for her throb between them. "No, of course not. I want to marry you no matter what Gerald has done. I want the wedding to go ahead tomorrow as planned. You can feel it. You know how much I long for you with every ounce of my being," he panted.
"Oh, Clifford, I want you too. Please, let me--"
He released her slightly. "Enough of that for now, before I forget every good resolution and take you right here and now on the
carpet." He gave a shaky laugh and released her, putting the desk between them before he began to fondle her once more.
"We will marry tomorrow and have the rest of our lives to be together, I give you my word. We've trusted each other, and told the whole truth at last. Now that we know each other's secrets, we must tell the truth about Gerald before any more innocent people are harmed.
"We'll add to this paper, noting down all I know of these matters, and give the information to Malcolm's father. He'll know what to do. He is even now looking for evidence in London, any stolen property taken from the travelers."
A chill crept up her spine. She grasped a chairback for support as her legs nearly gave way beneath her. "Oh God, Clifford. Oh God. Young Lieutenant Jerome's brother Martin!"
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 28
