Jeremiah Dunsmore, the village blacksmith, was one of them, looking like an upstanding member of society in his Sunday best. ‘Aye, sir, I swear on oath the defendant was at his inn, the King’s Head, within full sight of everyone the whole of the evening in question. I was there myself, sir, drinking cider, but not so much that I can’t remember what was what. Only had the one pint, I did.’
Keziah Jones, the local whore, spoke up with a glint in her eye when it was her turn. ‘I spent the rest o’ the night wi’ Ja- … er, Mr Kerswell, and ’e didn’t leave my bed once. Now why would ’e? I wouldn’t be doin’ me job if ’e had.’ Stifled laughter greeted this sally, making the proceedings seem less sombre for a while.
Harriet White, Eliza’s maidservant, stepped forward, sobbing intermittently and clutching a handkerchief. ‘It was so sad, your honour, an absolute t-tragedy. My mistress died in childbirth that night, and her so happy about her little boy. It-it’s my honest belief her husband took his own life in sorrow. Who wouldn’t? Adored her, he did. She was everything to him. Everything.’ That was news to Jago, and probably most of the villagers, but the judge had no way of knowing this. He nodded and thanked Miss White.
Finally it was the turn of the local doctor, William Ward-Matthews, looking grave but composed and speaking in a sonorous voice. ‘Yes, your honour, I attest to Lady Marcombe’s death. I was called to the Hall in the morning, only to find that her ladyship must have died during the night. The body was already cold by the time I examined her. It’s my considered opinion she’d died from loss of blood as a result of childbirth. Tragic, but all too common, I’m afraid.’
All these testimonials left the judge and jury with no option but to set Jago free because of lack of evidence. As he pronounced the verdict the judge glanced at Jago, a speculative look in his eyes, then nodded as if he was satisfied that justice had been done.
Jago nodded back, then walked out into the sunshine a free man.
When she’d finished reading, Kayla sighed with relief, her heart thumping loudly. Jago had been acquitted. Thank God! But she couldn’t help the doubts from creeping into her mind. Had Jago somehow engineered Sir John’s death so he could have Eliza all to himself? Was that why he couldn’t rest now? She didn’t want to believe it of him.
And if Eliza had died in childbirth, then what would have been the point? It didn’t make sense. She needed to talk to Jago and until she had a chance to do that, she’d have to be patient.
After coming to this decision, Kayla picked up the next sheet of paper Jessie had sent. It was Sir John’s will, dated March 24th 1782, which for some reason had been proved in London rather than Exeter.
‘This is the Last Will and Testament of me Sir John Marcombe of Marcombe Hall in the County of Devon, Baronet, being of sound mind and body. First I will and direct that all my just debts and funeral expenses be paid. I give and bequeath to my Dear Son, Wesley John Marcombe, all my worldly goods and possessions.
I hereby make and appoint my sister-in-law Miss Sophie Wesley and my half-brother Jago Kerswell, innkeeper of the King’s Head Inn at Marcombe, Guardians of my Son, until he shall attain the age of twenty-one, and I hereby make and appoint the aforesaid Sophie Wesley and Jago Kerswell Executors of this my Last Will and Testament.
In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal this Twenty-fourth day of March One Thousand Seven Hundred and Eighty Two.
Signed in the presence of …
There followed several names which Kayla could barely decipher, some of which had a cross next to them indicating the man in question had been illiterate and couldn’t write his own name. She dropped the piece of paper onto the bed and stared out of the window for a moment, lost in thought. This didn’t ring true. Why would Sir John appoint Jago the guardian of his son and call him half-brother in his will if he had never previously acknowledged the connection? Kayla was convinced now that Jago had engineered it all somehow and it was yet another thing she intended to ask him next time she saw him.
She sighed. At least he’d been able to see his son, even if he could never acknowledge him openly. Kayla shook her head and couldn’t help but smile a little. ‘Jago, you rogue,’ she muttered. Honestly the nerve of the man! To force Sir John to make him guardian of little Wesley, it was the outside of enough. The man must have been livid. She chuckled at the thought.
‘Oh, Jago,’ she whispered. ‘I wish I’d known you back then.’
Kayla spent the next few days calling all Sir John’s living descendants whenever she was alone in the office. It was her last hope. She had to make sure the painting hadn’t passed to one of them unofficially by way of a gift, which was possible. Wes had several meetings in London, which was a relief to her since she didn’t want him to find out her real reason for coming to Marcombe.
After ten such phone calls, however, Kayla slumped over her desk defeated. Not a single one of the people she’d contacted had ever heard of a painting of their ancestress, and almost to a man they referred her to Wes. She felt extremely guilty when several of them kindly offered to contact Wes on her behalf and she had to decline. It wasn’t in her nature to tell even white lies and she found the whole process very difficult.
In order to cheer herself up she rang Maddie for a good moan and told her all about her unsuccessful quest.
‘… so you see, no one has the painting. It must have been destroyed long ago. Oh, how am I going to tell Jago? He’ll be so disappointed.’
‘Don’t give up yet, it might just have been sold. There’s no reason why anyone should destroy a Gainsborough for goodness sake.’
‘I suppose not, but how am I ever going to find out?’
‘Hmm. Well, maybe you’ll have to hire an art expert or something. They might know what to do.’
It was the only suggestion they could come up with and they agreed Kayla would come up to London the following weekend to try and find someone who could help her. She hung up feeling depressed and more or less defeated.
‘Why does everything have to be so difficult?’ she muttered.
‘So you’ve not found her yet?’ Jago’s voice, echoing her own despondency, didn’t make Kayla feel any better.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Jago. Our last chance is this art expert I spoke to today at Sotheby’s. He’s agreed to do some research for me. At huge expense, I might add.’
‘I really appreciate your efforts, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Jago, I know. Let’s talk about something else for while.’ She chuckled suddenly, as she remembered all he had to answer for. ‘Such as your misdeeds perhaps?’
She could almost hear the piratical grin in his voice. ‘To which of my many heinous crimes might you be referring?’
Kayla began to tick them off on her hand. ‘Well, shall we start with murder? Smuggling? Or perhaps blackmailing?’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’ He lifted his chin, looking very haughty, but Kayla knew it was an act.
‘Oh, come on.’ She gave him a severe look and tapped her foot impatiently. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday and I’ll have you know I’ve read an account of your trial, as well as a copy of Sir John’s will. I refuse to believe that man wrote a single word of it without, shall we say, some slight coercion?’
‘Oh, very well, I’ll start from the beginning shall I?’ Jago gave her a lopsided grin that had her shaking her head at him.
‘Good idea. I can’t wait to hear this. Bet it’ll be a good story.’
She wasn’t disappointed.
‘So, your little girlfriend’s left you, has she? Is it permanent? Maybe she couldn’t stand to live in such a boring place either.’
Wes was standing on the drive, ostensibly watching Nell as she skipped her way round the oval bit of gravel outside the front of Marcombe Hall. In reality, his thoughts had kept straying to Kayla, wondering how soon she’d be back and why it should matter so much. He hadn’t heard Caro coming round the back of the house.
‘Where d
id you spring from?’ he asked, frowning at her.
‘Been for a walk. Just passing by.’
Yeah, right. Caro didn’t do country walking, as he knew well enough. ‘I mean, where are you staying? I didn’t know you were still in the neighbourhood.’
‘Nearby.’ She smirked. ‘Annie told me you’d given my room to the ditzy blonde, so I didn’t have much choice.’
‘She’s not ditzy,’ Wes started to say, then realised he didn’t want to be drawn into an argument about Kayla. ‘And the guest rooms are all decorated now so you’re welcome any time.’
‘You’ll move your girlfriend out of the adjoining room for me? How sweet of you.’
‘That’s not what I mean at all and you know it. I could ask Kayla to move, but I don’t see why it matters where you sleep. And she’s not my girlfriend.’
‘I see. Lover then, if that’s what you prefer. Or friend with benefits? I hear you’ve sworn off serious relationships.’ She laughed. ‘Nice to know I had such influence on your life.’
Wes clenched his jaw and tried to breathe slowly so as not to rise to her bait. She was an expert at needling him and he wasn’t surprised by the fact that he wanted to refute her allegation. What she’d said suddenly made him think though – was he really going to let his experiences with this infuriating woman dictate what he did for the rest of his life? Just because he’d fallen in love with the wrong person, was he right to shun relationships forever?
That would mean she’d won.
This epiphany hit him right between the eyes and he almost reeled. He turned to look at Caro, really look at her. He saw a beautiful woman, but an embittered, dissatisfied, mentally unstable one who would never be happy unless she was the centre of attention. His love, his wealth, his title, none of it had been enough once she had to share it with their child. And that wasn’t his fault. He’d tried his best, done everything in his power, and failed, but only because it wasn’t in Caro’s nature to compromise. Not all women were like that. Kayla wasn’t like that. So why should he judge them all by Caro’s standards?
Relief flooded through him and he felt as if a weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. He beamed at her and said, ‘Thanks, Caro. You’ve no idea how helpful you’ve just been.’
‘What?’ The smug expression faded and was replaced with one of confusion. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Nothing important. Now did you want to spend some time with Nell or did you just come to annoy me? I’m sure our daughter would love some quality time with you. How are you at skipping rope?’
‘I … skipping? I don’t do skipping.’
‘Ah, no, I forgot, it will probably ruin your manicure, right? Or your hairdo.’ Wes laughed. ‘But you know what? My friend-with-benefits-I-haven’t-yet-sampled is great at skipping, so you might want to practise a bit. You wouldn’t want to be outdone, would you?’ He beckoned to his daughter. ‘Hey, Nell, come over here and lend Mummy your skipping rope. And give her a few pointers while you’re at it.’ He turned back to Caro, who was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. ‘I’ll be in my office. Call me when you’re done.’
He strode back into the house whistling something he couldn’t identify himself, but it didn’t matter as long as it was a cheerful tune. ‘Nope, haven’t lost my mind,’ he muttered. ‘I think I just found it.’
Back in Devon once again, Kayla was preoccupied, thoughts of Jago and the horrible deaths suffered by Eliza and Sir John constantly on her mind. She understood why he had acted the way he did, and he’d sworn to her he hadn’t actually pushed the man, but with hindsight she could also see things from Sir John’s point of view. The fact of the matter was that his wife had been unfaithful with his own half-brother and it was no wonder he had become unhinged with grief and fury. The whole story was a tragedy for everyone involved, not least little baby Wesley.
She also waited anxiously for news from the art expert, but when he finally did contact her it was to dash her last hope into the ground.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Sinclair, but I’ve been unable to find out anything about the supposed painting of Lady Marcombe. No one has ever heard of it and as far as my colleagues and I are concerned, no record of such a portrait has ever been found. I wish I could help you, but as you said the story must have been made up, perhaps by someone wishing to sell a fake Gainsborough.’
Kayla thanked him and posted off the requested cheque, and that, she thought, was that. She had tried her best and failed.
The following afternoon Kayla and Wes were going through a particularly tricky contract line by line, when there was a knock on the office door. Annie stuck her head round the frame, looking slightly worried.
‘I’m sorry to bother you, but have either of you seen Nell recently?’
Wes and Kayla looked at each other and Kayla felt her stomach muscles contract involuntarily.
‘Not since lunchtime, no,’ Wes said. ‘I thought she was with you.’
‘Well, she was, but then her ma turned up and they went out into the garden for a while. I was watching them from the window, only they’ve disappeared now and I just wondered if they’d come inside. I know as how you said they weren’t to leave the grounds, so they must be somewhere about.’
Wes stood up and Kayla saw a muscle flicker in his jaw. ‘When did Caroline arrive, Annie?’
‘Oh, must have been a couple hours ago now. Yes, just after lunch as I recall.’
‘And when did you last see them from the kitchen window?’
‘Maybe an hour after that? I’m sorry, but I’m not sure. The garden’s so big, I didn’t think nothing of it at first. And to begin with I heard little Nell laughing. You know how loud she can be.’
‘I’d better go and look for them,’ Wes said.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Kayla offered. She indicated the contract they’d been working on. ‘I can’t finish this on my own anyway.’
‘Okay, let’s go then.’
Once outside the back door they went in separate directions in order to speed up the search, but when they converged some time later neither had seen any sign of Nell or her mother. Wes was looking grim and Kayla felt very anxious herself.
‘Bloody woman,’ Wes muttered. ‘What on earth is she up to now? She knows she’s not supposed to take Nell anywhere, not without my permission. I know it sounds harsh, but there were reasons.’ He shrugged.
‘Well, what do we do now? Can you call her mobile?’ Kayla was racking her brain trying to come up with some ideas, but her mind was blank.
‘Tried that, went to voicemail.’ Wes suddenly hit himself on the forehead. ‘Wait a minute, Caro’s car! We haven’t checked if it’s still here.’ He set off at a half-run towards the front of the house, where he came to a halt. ‘It’s gone. She must have taken Nell with her.’
‘I don’t remember hearing a car,’ Kayla said. ‘Are you sure she didn’t come on foot?’
‘Well, maybe, but we were so wrapped up in that damned contract, I don’t suppose we were paying attention.’ Wes sighed. ‘I’ll have to go and report this to the police in Kingsbridge. I know Caro’s licence number, so perhaps they can help me find her. There’s nothing much else I can do.’
‘What about me? Do you want me to continue to look around here?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind, although I doubt you’ll find her. No, Caro’s up to her tricks again. Honestly, it’s enough to try the patience of a saint.’
He stalked off to find his own car and went roaring down the drive a few moments later. Kayla followed the Land Rover with her gaze for as long as she could, then turned to continue the search, although without much hope.
Chapter Twenty-Four
After thanking everyone who had testified on his behalf, Jago headed straight back to Marcombe. Nice though it was to be surrounded by well-wishers and supporters, he needed to be alone for a while. Before and during the trial, he’d tried not to dwell on the fact that Eliza was gone, but now he knew he had to face the f
uture without her. He felt mostly numb, as if an icy chill had spread from his gut and into his every vein. It would have been so easy to sink into misery and either drown his sorrows with brandy or find some way of joining her in the afterlife. But there was a compelling reason for him to stay alive.
He had a son.
Officially the boy may not be his, but Jago had no intention of letting anyone else bring him up. The will he’d forced John to sign had been taken to a lawyer to be proved. The doctor, who’d turned out to be a stalwart ally, had added his signature as a witness, and no one doubted his word. He’d come to see Jago in prison to tell him all was proceeding smoothly.
‘I can’t thank you enough, Mr Ward-Matthews,’ Jago murmured through the bars, keeping his voice down so no one would hear them. ‘Although, if this trial ends the way the judge would no doubt like, your efforts will have been in vain.’ It wasn’t something he wanted to think about at that point.
‘We’ll see, we’ll see,’ the doctor had replied. ‘The Lord and the law work in mysterious ways.’ And he’d been right.
Out of habit, Jago entered the Hall via the kitchen and found the servants seated around the big scrubbed pine table eating their midday meal. They all looked up and an expectant hush fell over the room. The butler, Armitage, stood up, an expression of relief spreading over his features.
‘Mr Kerswell,’ he said. ‘I take it all went well?’
‘If by that you mean I’m a free man, then yes. I rode ahead of the others, but they’ll be back soon. I just …’ He suddenly came to a halt, not sure how to proceed. He had the official right of guardianship over his son, but to all intents and purposes the child was now the owner of this house. The boy was also master of the people in front of Jago, who in turn was nothing but an innkeeper. It was an awkward situation, not to say impossible.
To his surprise, Armitage came to his rescue. ‘You’ve come to make sure the little one is safe, I presume? I’ll take you up to see him now. He’s as right as rain and the wet nurse is a dependable woman, clean and healthy. Lady Marcombe chose her herself before the birth.’ At the mention of his late mistress, the butler’s expression turned bleak, but he quickly regained his usual equilibrium.
The Secret Kiss of Darkness Page 22
