The Heir

by Catherine Coulter

  Lord Graybourn said again to Elsbeth, “Will you go to London, my dear?”

  “Not as yet, sir. I had thought to . . .” Elsbeth lapsed into silent embarrassment, her eyes flying to Lady Ann.

  Lady Ann said with composure, “Our plans are at present rather uncertain, Lord Graybourn. But I do not doubt that Elsbeth will accompany us for an extended stay during the winter.”

  “Oh, Bella, you are going up to London? What great sport. We will take the ton by storm. Ah, yes, there are some noses I want to tweak, and you will help me and we will laugh and scheme. That Lucia Applebaum is one.”

  There was a hint of defiance in Lady Ann’s calm voice. “No, Suzanne, I do not speak of Arabella. Elsbeth will accompany me and my husband to London.”

  25

  There was dead silence in the large chamber, until Lady Talgarth rocked back in her chair. Goodness, they’d come for a duty visit. She hadn’t even had the last lemon seed cake. But now that didn’t matter. She’d never expected anything so wonderfully juicy as this. “My dear Ann,” she said very carefully, unwilling to immediately accept her good fortune, “whatever do you mean by that?”

  The earl said, “Allow me, Ann, to give our happy news to Lady Talgarth. We will shortly welcome Dr. Branyon into the family, ma’am. He and Ann plan to marry.”

  “My congratulations, Lady Ann,” Lord Graybourn said, quite unaware he had waded into dangerous waters.

  “I thank you, Lord Graybourn,” Lady Ann said, nodding to him. “Dr. Branyon has been a dear and loyal friend of the Deverill family for countless years. And now he will be more. He will be my husband and Arabella’s step-papa.”

  Lady Talgarth puffed herself up. “My dear Ann, surely you cannot mean it. Why, how very odd of you. The man is a doctor, he is in trade, so to speak, even though it is sick people he trades in. It still isn’t what one would expect. I suppose he is a gentleman since his father was a squire in one of our remote counties, but he is a second son.”

  Mother and daughter drew together. Arabella turned to the incredulous Lady Talgarth and raised her black brows with the exact amount of arrogance her father would have used. “I daresay some might consider it odd, ma’am. I myself think that my mother is far too young and beautiful to remain a widow. Just look at her—everyone believes her to be my sister. As for Dr. Branyon, he is a gentleman, no matter what he chooses to do, and ever so handsome and kind. I will welcome him as my step-papa. He will not only love me but he will ensure that I live until I am ninety—the benefit of having a physician for a step-papa.”

  Ah, it was well done. The earl was so pleased with her that he wanted to lift her out of her chair, kiss her, and carry her immediately up to their bedchamber. He wanted all those miserable clothes off her. Damnation, he was forgetting, and he refused to do that. All right, so she had a reason for lying with the comte, but she had to tell him what it was. He realized that he was thinking the very same thoughts over and over again. He was boring even himself. And the last lemon seed cake was gone. Who had snagged it?

  Lady Talgarth wanted to box Arabella’s ears when Suzanne said, taking Lady Ann’s hands in hers, “I think it’s marvelous, Lady Ann. Dr. Branyon is a good man and besides, he cured me of some vile illness when I was a little girl. My father would have given him the moon if he could. Ah, and now Dr. Branyon is effectively treating my father’s gout. Besides, you are used to being your own mistress. I, for one, would remove to a tent if I had to live in Bella’s household. She is really quite frightening. I begin to feel sorry for the earl until I see how he reduces her to delightful silence.”

  “That is certainly more than enough,” Arabella said. “You have torn up my character and consigned the pieces to the four winds. I thank you.”

  Lady Ann said calmly, “That is surely enough about my affairs. Lord Graybourn, how long do you make your stay? I understand your destination is Brighton.”

  Lord Graybourn hastened to say, “I had intended to stay only a day or two, my lady. But the kindness of my hostess”—he looked hearteningly at Lady Talgarth—“as well as the hospitality you have extended to me, makes me hopeful that I shall be asked to remain for a few days longer.” The viscount’s eyes rested momentarily upon Elsbeth. The comte wanted to kill the man. So did Lady Talgarth. Suzanne grinned from ear to ear. As for the earl, he was looking at his wife, whose teacup was shaking a bit in her hand. Why was that?

  Lady Talgarth rose from her chair amid yards of rustling lavender silk and tapped her fan against her hand until the gentlemen had also risen. She drew an audible breath and frowned, not at Lady Ann or Arabella, but at Elsbeth. She then cast a look fraught with meaning at Suzanne, one that promised full reckoning.

  Suzanne, well used to her mother’s touchy humors, just shook her head, smiled, rose, and gave Lady Ann a quick hug. “I see that our visit is ended, Lady Ann. Please accept my congratulations. I am very happy for you.”

  “Of course, my dear.” Lady Ann gave a gracious smile to Lady Talgarth. “We most enjoyed making the acquaintance of Lord Graybourn, Aurelia. You are, needless to say, most welcome at Evesham Abbey at any time.”

  “Indeed, my dear Ann, I cannot recall when I spent a morning that was more enlightening. Surely not any time in the recent past. But there were not enough seed cakes.” She gave her daughter a sour look. “I daresay we will, however, be far too occupied to bring Lord Graybourn to visit again. You will certainly understand.”

  Lady Ann merely nodded. One neighbor down, she thought, but she didn’t care, not one whit.

  “Come, dear Edmund,” Lady Talgarth said with unnecessary force.

  He managed to move with moderate speed to her side. He smiled at everyone, a rather nice smile, Elsbeth thought, and bid his good-byes.

  No sooner had Crupper bowed their visitors from the Velvet Room than Arabella collapsed on the sofa and burst into laughter. “I would have wagered that the old bat would burst her seams. It was excellent, just excellent. I had not dreamed to be so amused.”

  Lady Ann sighed. “I suppose that she had to be told, sooner or later. The poor viscount, really a quite unexceptionable young man, it was a pity he had to be here when she was told.”

  The earl remarked from his post by the fireplace, “I wouldn’t care to be in the viscount’s boots. I doubt the rest of his visit will be very pleasant. In any case, the poor fellow is quite unsuited to the dashing Miss Talgarth.” His gaze rested for a moment on Elsbeth. He then said to his wife, his voice soft as butter, “If you are over your giggles, would you like some luncheon?”

  The earl’s look had plummeted Elsbeth into a pit of guilt. How very fickle of her to think Lord Graybourn a charming man, to believe that his sensibilities were quite in tune with her own. She found that she tended to avoid her cousin’s eyes at the dining table. She thought his unkindness to the viscount uncivil and not at all the way a proper gentleman should behave. Her displeasure at his behavior made her uneasy. The cold slices of ham did not sit well in her stomach.

  As for Gervaise, he was of the cynical opinion that the damned English were all the same. He had merely joined in what he had thought to be an English game of showing up the fat viscount, for a fool that he was, and just look at what they had done—drawn their ranks together against him, the French outsider. Even Elsbeth had sided against him. He managed to hide his displeasure, for there was much he had to accomplish today. At the close of luncheon, he managed to place himself next to Arabella.

  “My dear countess,” he said with all the charm in his repertoire, which was considerable, “I feel you have not paid me the attention I deserve. I am bereft.”

  Both Elsbeth and the earl were staring at the both of them. Arabella wanted to send her fist into the comte’s face. What was Justin thinking? She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She finally managed to say, “I am newly married, comte. Surely that gives me a good reason for not giving everyone all the attention they feel they deserve. If you are bereft, I am, of course, sorry for it.�
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  “Perhaps,” the comte said, “it is I who have not paid you enough attention. As you know, I must take my leave in but two days. If your husband could spare you, I should delight in having you show me more of your beautiful English countryside. Please do not deny me this.”

  “I can spare her, but I do not do it willingly,” the earl said, and Arabella thought her jaw would drop to the floor in surprise. He continued, all good humor, “What man would? I ask only that you take good care of her. She is all that is precious to me.”

  What was going on here? Why was he smiling at her, calling her precious to him, giving her permission to go with the comte, the man he was certain she had betrayed him with? It made no sense, unless . . . She drew a deep breath. He must believe her innocent now. Had he guessed that it must have been Elsbeth? She wanted him just to believe her, and perhaps it was true.

  She didn’t want to go to the front doors with the damned comte. She wanted to shoot him. She wanted to kick him to the floor. It was denied to her, dammit. She forced herself to smile, saying, “I shall be delighted to explore with you. Where do you wish to go?”

  He paused before replying, as if uncertain. “A difficult decision, Arabella, but I think I should like to visit your old abbey ruins once again. The few minutes I have spent there were not enough. Such a romantic place, full of ghosts of your English ancestors. I wish to be drawn back into the past, to forget the cares of the present.”

  Arabella thought this overdone, but she merely nodded. They agreed to meet in thirty minutes.

  When she came down to the entrance hall not long thereafter, dressed in an old blue muslin gown and stout walking shoes, she asked Crupper, “Have you seen his lordship?”

  He gave her a tolerant smile. “Your husband had an errand to do. He said I was to tell you that he would miss you”—old Crupper’s eyes softened and Arabella stared—“and that he hoped you would spare him some time this evening.”

  “Oh yes,” she said, nearly dancing, “I will spare him any amount of time he wishes. Thank you, dear Crupper.”

  “A pity you must spend time with that Frenchman,” Crupper said.

  “I agree with you. It is a great pity.”

  “He will be gone soon.”

  “Yes, isn’t that wonderful?”

  She grinned at him and went out to stand on the front steps. Gervaise appeared not many minutes later, dressed beautifully, as was his habit, a smile of anticipation on his handsome face.

  He didn’t hesitate to flatter this girl whom he would never see again in two days. It cost him nothing, and hopefully, it would make her more cooperative. “How very lovely you are, Arabella. An afternoon in your company will fill my memories for many a lonely day to come.”

  His flowery compliments nauseated her, but she forced a smile. Soon he would be gone. She couldn’t wait. She fell into step beside the comte, thinking about her husband, wondering what he was thinking now. Surely he wouldn’t insult her again, would he?

  “A lovely day, Arabella. Finely suited for our explorations.”

  “Hmm,” she said. “How very true.” She walked faster. Time moved very slowly on occasion.

  The old abbey ruins were bathed in the rich golden light of the afternoon sun, the rays striking the three stone arches that still stood, casting circular shadows over the large area of fallen rubble. Arabella tried her best to capture a mood of adventure. “Well, Gervaise, here we are. As you can see, the original abbey was a huge structure, covering most of this hill. See how high those two remaining arches are? On this level, only they remain. Now, of course, the rest of the walls are very nearly tumbled about themselves.

  “The time we visited here before, I neglected to tell you of the abbey’s history, which was not a very happy one. My father told me that it was a sanctuary of learning for nearly four hundred years before it was pillaged and burned in the sixteenth century on the orders of King Henry.” Gervaise appeared fascinated with the recital, and she warmed to her subject. It helped pass the time. “When I was a child, I explored some of the old chambers that still exist under this level. See”—she pointed to the far perimeter of the ruins—“where the fallen rocks have been cleared away? Just below are the chambers—monks’ cells. I have been told that if you are very quiet you will hear the monks intoning their prayers.”

  “Ah, very romantic, that. Elsbeth was telling me of a subterranean passageway. There are chambers still intact down there?”

  “At least four or five chambers stand as they did seven hundred years ago. They are in a row off the only passage that remains uncollapsed.”

  His interest seemed to kindle, his eyes shining. “We must make haste, my dear Arabella. I must see these chambers. I will never have another chance.”

  Arabella hesitated. “It isn’t safe, Gervaise. I have seen some of the stone crumble just in the past ten years. Indeed, some nearly fell on me.”

  He drew himself up. “I would not dare to ask you to submit your person to any hazard, dear Arabella. I insist that you remain here in safety. I shall explore the old rooms.” Masculine authority rang in his voice.

  Well, damn, she thought. She couldn’t very well let him go down there alone, despite his peacock’s preening. “Oh, all right, one last time then. Let’s go.”

  He looked pleased. She didn’t understand it. “I of course will do as you ask.” He gave her a flourishing bow and stepped back.

  “Follow me and stay close,” she said over her shoulder, and hunched down.

  Arabella skirted the massive stones to the far side of the ruins. Here all larger stones had been rolled away to preserve the passage below for as long as possible. In some places the ceiling was so thin that tiny shafts of light could be seen filtering down into the darkness below. She turned to where crooked slabs of stone still framed the stairway leading downward to the lower chambers. She peered inside.

  “I forgot to bring candles. It is too dark for us to see well enough if we go down there. Sorry, comte.” There, now she could get rid of him. She wanted to find Justin. She wanted to kiss him until they were both out of breath. She wanted to ask him when he had finally realized the truth, when he had finally realized she had not betrayed him, when . . .

  The comte drew two candles and matches from his waistcoat pockets. “Voilà, dear Arabella. As you see, I have come prepared to explore.”

  She couldn’t believe it. She was surely cursed. She took a candle from his outstretched hand. They lit the candles, Arabella saying, “It is wretchedly dark down there at the bottom of the steps. Take care and go slowly.”

  They made their way carefully down the jagged rock steps into the subterranean passage. But for the flickering of their candles, the darkness was complete. Arabella stepped gingerly over fallen stones. She wished he would fall and break his neck, but she said, “Be careful where you step, Gervaise.” Her voice sounded eerie. She paused a moment and lifted her candle above her head. “Look, it is always so.” She pointed to the walls. “They are always clammy with moisture. Isn’t that strange when the sun shines so brightly above us?”

  Gervaise obediently stepped nearer to the wall and ran his fingers over the rough wet surface. “It is fascinating. Where are the monks’ cells, Arabella?”

  Odd, but he sounded abstracted, impatient. It had been his damned idea to explore the ruins. It was even his damned candles. Where had all his fervor fled to? “The passage forks to the left just ahead. The passage to the right crumbled many years ago. It is too bad that the chambers are empty. There is really not much to see.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said behind her. “It is the marvelous atmosphere, the menacing romance of it all. I wish to have it seep into my bones.”

  The passage ended abruptly, and Arabella raised her candle. “This is the only corridor that is still standing. The rooms are in a straight row along the left.”

  She slipped through the narrow doorway into the first cell. “Don’t put any weight against the door frame. You can
see that the stones are already working themselves loose from the oak beams.”

  They stood side by side in the small stone room, their candles casting shifting dark shapes on the damp walls. The air was musty and close. “I hope it was more pleasant seven hundred years ago.” Arabella stooped and ran her fingers through the soft sand that covered the floor.

  “I wish to see the other cells,” Gervaise said, moving away from her as he spoke. “Stay here, Arabella, I shall be back soon.”

  She nodded, quite content to stay where she was. It was very peaceful, and she didn’t mind at all being alone. She saw his candle flicker outside the cell, then disappear.

  She looked about the chamber, thinking how large it had appeared to her as a small child. She pictured a rude wooden cot along one wall and perhaps a small table along the other. Certainly the room was too tiny for anything else.

  Suddenly there was a loud thumping noise overhead, just above the oak-beamed doorway. She clutched her candle close to her and stepped forward, only to hurl herself back when stones above the doorway tumbled to the floor in front of her.

  She wanted to scream, but didn’t. Oh God, she was stupid to have brought him down here. She had known it wasn’t safe.

  “Gervaise! Where are you? Are you all right?”

  There was dead silence.

  26

  The silence didn’t last. More stones fell, very close now. Arabella watched in horror as larger and larger stones worked themselves free of their ancient molding and crashed to the floor, blocking the open doorway, spewing dust and dirt into the air.

  She screamed, falling back, choking, her nostrils clogged and her eyes burning from gritty dust and sand that swirled about her. Her candle flickered. She whipped about, cupping her hand about the precious flame. A rock struck her shoulder, and she cried out more in surprise than in pain. She scurried to the corner of the cell and huddled down against the wall, her legs drawn up to her chest.