The Silver Rose cb-2

by Jane Feather

  Ariel half smiled. "I suppose so. And there are two of them. They can't both be in trouble."

  "Of course not." He took up the ale cup and drank deeply. "I'll be back directly I'm dressed." He took up his cane and limped off to his own chamber across the corridor.

  Ariel wondered why he spared her the ordeal of having to watch him dress. He hadn't shown such delicacy in other of their dealings, and he'd stripped off his robe in front of her both last night and the night before. But there had been little light, she recalled. Only the flicker of the fire to combat the shadows. She'd seen nothing but his back view, and that no more than a fleeting impression. Maybe he had a natural modesty.

  The thought made her laugh aloud until she remembered that he came of Puritan stock. Hawkesmoors were known for sober, grave, churchgoing prudes. They probably believed that nakedness was sinful and dangerous and even lovemaking must take place in the darkness, beneath the covers. And never for pleasure. Only for procreation.

  But somehow that didn't sit right with what she knew of Simon Hawkesmoor. It didn't accord with that straying hand on her hip, the caressing fingers on her back, the teasing laughter. She didn't feel as if the earl of Hawkesmoor was an inhibited prude. There was too much amusement and knowingness in his character. And her body was most emphatically nor responding to the signals of a staid and sexless Puritan. Simon aroused her most powerfully. There was little point denying it to herself, even if she'd cut her tongue out rather than speak it.

  "Very well. Let's go and see these horses of yours." His voice from the door broke her reverie, and she felt herself blushing again as she picked up her cloak.

  Simon looked at her curiously. "What wicked thoughts brought the fire to your cheeks, Ariel?"

  She clapped her hands to her flaming face, saying crossly, "I blush at the slightest thing. It's unchivalrous to take notice."

  "It must be most inconvenient," he said with mock solicitude. "I imagine you would always be caught out in a he, for instance."

  Ariel didn't dignify this truth with a reply. It was certainly the case that if she told a direct lie, the evidence blazed from her cheeks for all to see. As a result she had perfected the art of lying by omission and was remarkably skillful at avoiding direct questions that might require an inconvenient answer.

  "These special horses of yours. Are they a particular strain?" Simon inquired, diplomatically changing the subject.

  "They're Arabians," she replied shortly. "It's a harmless enough hobby. Gives me something to do besides sewing fine seams."

  "Are you skilled with a needle?" A laugh trembled in his voice as they crossed the stableyard.

  Ariel gave him a look of disgust that was answer enough.

  "I didn't think so," he said, grinning. He ducked into the low building and waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light. An elderly groom ambled up the aisle toward them.

  "You found them dogs yet, m'lady?"

  "No. I'll go into the paddock and call them in a minute." Her forehead was creased with worry. "Edgar, this is the earl of Hawkesmoor… my husband," she added after an infinitesimal pause.

  Edgar pulled his forelock but his shrewd eyes examined his lordship with a pitiless clarity. "You want t' take a look, m'lord?"

  "If I may." Simon walked slowly along the stalls, pausing to look in at each one.

  Ariel remained with Edgar. "Did the colt get off all right?"

  "Aye," he said, his eyes still observing the earl.

  "My brother hasn't appeared this morning?"

  Edgar shook his head. "Like as not he's enough to do wi' gettin' 'imself up and about, I'd say."

  Ariel smiled sourly. "They sat late, I suppose. The start of the hunt will be delayed."

  "Aye, like as not," Edgar said with the same placidity. "What does yer 'usband know about the animals?" He gestured with his head to Simon, who was now at the far end of the building.

  Ariel shrugged. "The same as everyone else. They're a harmless hobby of mine."

  Simon couldn't hear what the groom and Ariel were saying to each other, but he sensed a complicity between them, and a certain importance to the conversation. He paused, looking in on a pregnant mare in the farthest stall. She was a beautiful animal, as indeed they all were. Very special. Ariel hadn't been exaggerating. But what could such a young thing know about the science of horse breeding? And yet, judging by the results of her efforts, she clearly knew exactly what she was doing.

  He limped back to them. "Very impressive, my dear. Are you breeding them to race?"

  Ariel flushed again in the shadowy light. "Perhaps," she said.

  "Ah." He nodded slowly, watching her face. "Are you finding buyers for them?"

  "They're mine," Ariel said in a rush. "I have no interest in selling them. Why would I?" She walked away with swift step toward one of the stalls.

  "Why indeed?" he agreed with a lift of one mobile eyebrow. "Horse trading is hardly the province of an earl's daughter, let alone an earl's wife." Ariel made no response, so he continued, raising his voice a little as she was still moving away from him, "We must make arrangements to have them transported to Hawkesmoor Manor. There's no stable as well ordered as this to accommodate them at present, but I'll give order that one be built without delay."

  Ariel stared down at the straw-laden floor. Hardly the province of an earl's wife. Of course he would think that. Everyone would think that. But there was no denying the generosity of his offer. If she was truly wedded to him and they were truly to set up a life together, then his offer to accommodate her horses in style had been most open-handed. Of course, she couldn't tell him that he would be wasting his time and his money on such a project. When she left Ravenspeare Castle with her horses, they would be going somewhere quite other than Hawkesmoor Manor.

  He seemed to be waiting for a reply, so she said as naturally as she could manage, "That is most considerate of you, my lord. Most generous."

  "Not in the least. I am perfectly happy to accommodate my wife's hobbies," he responded with a bland smile. "Edgar, I assume you will wish to take up service in my household? Lady Hawkesmoor would be loath to do without your help. Isn't that so, my dear?"

  "Indeed," Ariel said, still keeping her face averted. "I couldn't manage the stud without Edgar."

  "Then we must come to an agreement satisfactory to all parties."

  This easy, natural generosity was too much for Ariel. Why couldn't the man be the pompous, uncivilized, puritanical boor she had expected? Why did he have to be so… so…? Oh, it was impossible to describe! "Excuse me. I'm going to the paddock to call the dogs."

  She brushed past him, her face turned away, and vanished into the bright light of the yard.

  Edgar pulled his chin and began to suck on a straw. Simon after a minute followed Ariel outside. There was no sign of her, and he began to limp toward the paddock gate.

  "No! No!" Ariel's anguished scream of outrage and denial shivered through the crisp morning air. Grooms dropped their brooms and buckets. Edgar raced out of the stable block toward the paddock. Simon, his heart cold, cursed his lameness as he forced himself to walk faster toward the gate.

  Chapter Ten

  Ariel was at the far end of the paddock, a scarlet hunched figure on the ground. From the distance, Simon could make out the gray shape of one of her hounds. He forced himself to move more quickly, although the grass was thick and wet, riddled with molehills set to snag a hesitant foot or a misplaced cane. As he drew closer he made out another long gray shape in the grass. His stomach turned to acid.

  Edgar had reached Ariel minutes before Simon came up to them. He too was kneeling in the wet grass beside the gray shapes.

  Ariel looked up as Simon reached her side. Her eyes were living coals in a deathly white face, her lips were blue, her nose pinched. "How could anyone do such a thing?" she cried, her voice a long, sobbing moan of distress. She was sitting in the grass, both handsome great heads resting in her lap.

  Simon saw immedia
tely that the animals were still alive, although clearly suffering. Their eyes were open but rolling with pain, and green slime oozed from their hanging mouths. "What is it?"

  "Poison!" she said, and now the despair had left her voice, replaced with an icy hardness. "I won't know what kind until I find the source, but we have to get them back to the stables. I can do nothing for them here." She beckoned one of the stable lads who stood gawping helplessly to one side. "Tim, fetch a cart. Quickly, boy!" she snapped when he seemed not to hear her.

  The lad took off at a run. Simon awkwardly bent over the dogs. They looked far gone to him and his instinct was to put them out of their agony with a merciful bullet. "What do you think you can do for them, Ariel? Wouldn't it be kinder-"

  "No, damn you!" she cried, her eyes blazing at him. "I will not give up on them. They're big animals, with the body weight of a human being. It takes a lot to kill them. I must try to do something to save them. Don't you see that?"

  He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the pitiful sight. Such magnificent beasts brought so low. "How could it have happened?"

  "Ranulf," she spat out. "And I'll get even with him for this. I swear it on my mother's grave. I know the signs," she said, her face closed and hard. "It's arsenic or nux vomica." She stroked the dogs' heads the whole time she spoke, and her voice now was low and considering, as if she were speaking her thoughts and conclusions as they came to her. "But the dose must be carefully measured to be effective. Romulus and Remus would need a dose sufficient to kill a man. Ranulf may have miscalculated. I have to try!"

  "I understand," he said quietly. He walked away, poking through the grass, looking for some clue as to what the dogs could have eaten. He found it in a ditch a few paces away from where the animals had fallen. He poked at the sheep's carcass with his cane. It was not fresh and had a strange bluish tinge to it. They didn't seem to have made too much of a meal of it, however. Perhaps its rotting condition had put them off.

  He called Ariel over to look at the carcass. After a moment of investigation, she straightened and said, "I think it's nux vomica. If they can void the filth, it may not be too late." Ariel turned back to the dogs, her face set.

  The cart had arrived, pulled by an old dapple gray mare who had seen better days. She stood, head hanging wearily, as the dogs were lifted onto the bed of the cart. Ariel clambered up beside them, taking their heads in her lap again.

  In the stableyard, Ariel directed the lads to lift the dogs down and lay them on thick beds of fresh straw in the barn.

  She didn't wait to see her orders carried out but ran as if the devil were on her heels back to the house.

  "Of all the filthy bastard tricks." Edgar was mumbling as he bent over the hounds, gently easing their heads into the straw. "They're bleedin' devils, those Ravenspeares. May they all burn in hellfire!"

  "You're both so certain who was responsible." Simon leaned against an upturned rainwater butt, easing his bad leg. His eyes were as cold as glacier ice.

  "Aye," Edgar returned flatly. "Mean and vicious to a one. The dirtier the trick, the better they like it."

  "I'll need help, Edgar." Ariel arrived breathless, speaking even as she dropped to her knees beside the animals, setting down a funnel and two jugs brimming with a vile-smelling liquid.

  "What can I do?" Simon eased himself to his knees with an indrawn breath of pain.

  Ariel glanced quickly at him. "This is no work for you, my lord," she said dismissively. "I must purge them of the foul matter. Even if you don't mind getting your hands dirty, I doubt you'll be willing to ruin your clothes."

  "I'm not the lightweight you think me," he retorted. "Edgar must lift the head while I open the jaws. You may then pour down whatever emetic you have in that jug."

  "Salt, mustard, and senna," she said.

  Simon grimaced, but positioned himself to hold open the jaws of the hound whose head Edgar now held in the crook of his arm.

  Her lips tight in concentration, Ariel inserted the funnel and slowly poured the thick liquid into the dog's mouth. The animal struggled weakly.

  Simon gentled him with a soft crooning sound, massaging his throat so that Romulus swallowed convulsively. Ariel waited patiently until Simon had coaxed the last of the mouthful down his throat. Then she refilled the funnel. The dog's eyes rolled wildly and Simon knew that if the animal weren't so sick and feeble, he would have attacked them.

  Ariel could see it too, but she spoke softly as she poured with a steady hand. Simon massaged the throat, and eventually the contents of the first jug had been absorbed by the dog.

  "It'll start to work in a minute," Ariel said. "But we must treat Remus now."

  The process was repeated this time to the accompaniment of Romulus's violent convulsions as he voided the contents of stomach and bowel into the straw, helpless to move himself. The mess splattered everywhere, but Ariel was completely unaware, and even when the last drops had disappeared down Remus's throat, she remained sitting in the straw between the two beasts, stroking their sweat-lathered necks and flanks, whispering to them almost in a lullaby.

  Finally it was over and the animals lay with closed eyes, barely breathing. Simon stood looking down at them, hoping Ariel's heroic efforts hadn't merely caused them more suffering.

  Ariel remained with the dogs' heads on her lap. They were quiet now, the sweat drying on their matted fur. "They can't rest like this," she said. "We must clean them up and then move them to fresh straw."

  "Ariel, my dear, they're dying." Simon couldn't bear it any longer. He bent down to rest his hands on her shoulders. "Don't you see that? Leave them in peace now."

  Ariel pushed his hands from her shoulders with a rough jerk that nearly unbalanced him. "They are not dying. Do you think I don't know what I'm doing?" She glared at him through the honeyed curtain of tumbled hair. Her face was streaked with dirt, her eyes bright with the residue of tears, sweat beaded her brow. "Do you think you know better than I do?"

  It was a startling question. Simon ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I have some knowledge of horses and dogs," he said. "Army life teaches one such things."

  "Yes, it teaches you to shoot rather than attempt to cure, because it's easier and quicker," she said scornfully. "Edgar, bring water, will you, please? And tell Tim to prepare a bed in the tack room with fresh straw. They can he up there for the rest of the day."

  She sounded so absolutely confident that the dogs would live that Simon almost began to believe it himself. It was clear to him that Edgar had no doubts. Simon watched for a minute as the groom and his mistress began to wash the dogs down with buckets of water, then, with a resigned shrug, he struggled back to the barn floor and took his part.

  Ariel gave him a quick surprised look, but she said nothing. When the hounds were clean, she took thick pieces of toweling and rubbed them as dry as it was possible.

  And then both pairs of great yellow eyes opened and the wildness was gone from them. Simon hid his astonishment as he watched the return of intelligence. They were still too weak to move a muscle, but there was no denying that they were definitely alive.

  "Help me carry them to the tack room, Edgar." Ariel stood up, her sopping skirts hanging around her. "If you take the hindquarters, I'll manage the head and shoulders."

  Simon wanted to protest that she wasn't strong enough, but more than anything, he wanted to help. Bitterly he stood aside as the elderly man and the young girl struggled to carry the deadweight of first one and then the other huge animal into the tack room at the far end of the barn.

  "I'll make up some gruel with birch bark." Ariel hurried past Simon, who had followed them to the tack room. "I'll sit with them throughout the day… Fetch water, Edgar. They'll need to drink as soon as they come round a bit more."

  Simon followed her, trying to keep up with her half-running stride. "It will be expected that you attend the hunting party," he said mildly. "And don't bite my head off."

  Ariel paused at the kitchen door, one
hand resting on the jamb. "Have I done?"

  "Several times."

  Ariel bit her hp. "Then I apologize. You've been very kind to help with the dogs."

  "Forgive me for having such little faith." He nodded to the curious kitchen folk and rested on a high stool beside the range while Ariel attended to her gruel.

  "Mercy me, Lady Ariel, you smell like a pigsticker!" Gertrude stepped away from her own pots as Ariel moved in to the fire. She surveyed the countess of Hawkesmoor with astonished dismay. " 'Ceptin' there's no blood. But looks like there's everythin' else on yer clothes. Quite ruined they are."

  "It can't be helped," Ariel said with a careless shrug. "His lordship's not much better." She shot him one of her mischievous smiles that always took him by surprise. Now that her dogs were saved, she seemed to be completely carefree.

  He glanced ruefully down at his own britches and coat. "I'll go and change before the hunt. I'll tell your brothers that you have been delayed and will join us within… say, half an hour?"

  Ariel opened her mouth to refuse, but he forestalled her, saying quickly, "I daresay you will not wish to give certain people the satisfaction of believing you distressed."

  He had a point. Ranulf would grin from ear to ear if he knew how close she'd been to despair. But he would spit fire if he thought that his nasty little trick had failed to distress her.

  And if she didn't accompany Simon, she wouldn't be able to watch his back. A hunt would provide many an opportunity for accidents.

  Ariel turned back to her cauldron, unsure which of the two reasons carried the most weight. "Very well. Edgar will be able to care for them as well as I."

  Simon nodded and left the kitchen.

  Ranulf paced the Great Hall, his eyes glittering with malice as he waited for his sister to respond to his summons. Ariel hadn't appeared at breakfast and he'd sent a servant to fetch her. Had she found the dogs as yet? Or was she even now searching for them?