It was then that she made up her mind. He still didn’t believe her, but he had come, nonetheless, to care for her. The very least she owed him was the truth.
“And I wish to speak to you.”
Damn the consequences.
The earl just smiled down at her, wondering what she would say, wondering if she would ask his forgiveness. He remembered her words against his shoulder in the small monk’s cell. She’d thought he believed her. What was that all about? No, he wouldn’t think about that. Surely she would admit everything to him. Hadn’t she just said that she wanted to speak to him? He wanted it over and done with. And, he knew, there was more, so much more. There was Gervaise, and what the damned bastard had done.
“Grace is fetching your tub. I had best demand the same of poor Grubbs.” he turned, reluctantly, not really wanting her out of his sight for a single moment, to leave the earl’s bedchamber.
“Justin?”
“Yes?”
Her voice was softer than the butter Cook had served just that morning. “I thank you. You saved me. I knew you would come and you did.”
“You would do the same for me, would you not?”
“Yes, I would, but you know, my lord, I imagine that I would have moved more quickly.” She struck a pose. In her filthy gown, her matted hair, her scratched hands and face, she struck a wonderful pose, saying now, “I doubt though, upon serious reflection, that I would have left you entombed for quite so long.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. “That was very well done. Don’t ever change,” he said, and left her.
Unfortunately, they had no time to speak before the evening meal.
As to be expected, the dinner conversation soon turned to the mysterious skeleton uncovered in the wall of the chamber.
“There was no clue at all to the poor man’s identity?” Lady Ann asked the earl.
“Unfortunately none whatsoever. From his manner of dress, I would estimate that he met his violent end some twenty years ago. As to how or why, or, for that matter, by whose hand—” The earl shrugged and forked down another bite of sautéed pork loin.
Arabella bit her cheek. She loved pork, but tonight she couldn’t face it. Dear God, she held all the answers to their questions on a small square of faded paper. She could imagine the shock and horror on their faces were she to tell them that it was her father who had killed the man—Magdalaine’s lover—a man named Charles. And Gervaise—how would he react, were he to know the truth? Or, perhaps, did Gervaise already know? She lowered her head and toyed with the few errant green beans in the middle of her plate. She wanted more than anything to be alone, away from everyone, to think. She had to decide what to do.
“Dear Arabella, how very awful for you to be shut in with the man’s skeleton. You are so very brave. Goodness, I would have died of fright on the spot.” Elsbeth shuddered, a pea dropping off her fork.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Arabella said, focusing the full strength of her belief on her half-sister. “You would have found the skeleton and you would have turned perfectly white—at least that’s what I did—but then you would have thought about it and been very practical about the whole matter.”
“Would I?” Elsbeth was frowning down at her plate. She raised her head. “You believe I would have been as brave as you were?”
“There is no doubt in my mind. There should be no doubt in yours, only I pray that you will never have it tested in the abbey.”
Dr. Branyon looked from one daughter to the other. If Arabella could have given Elsbeth all her strength, she would have done it, right here, right now, at the dinner table. What was going on? There were such changes in her. He shook his head. Ann would tell him what was going on later. He said to Arabella, “Both you and Elsbeth have the constitutions of horses, but you, my dear countess, you need a more thorough examination. I want to make very certain that you are quite all right.”
Arabella managed a laugh. “What? And be victim to one of your vile potions? No, I thank you, sir. Mother, give him some of these stewed onions. It will focus his attention away from me.”
Dr. Branyon turned to the earl. “Justin, cannot you persuade your wife to reason?”
Justin merely smiled and shook his head. “Let her bear her bumps and bruises in peace, Paul. I am persuaded that she has come to no ill. But you may be certain that I will keep a close watch on her tonight.”
“It is I who must ask your apology, dear Arabella,” the comte said, leaning toward her, waving his knife. These were the first words out of him. “I placed you unwittingly into such danger. It is unforgivable, it is beyond what a man’s honor can tolerate. Tell me, what can I do to make retribution?”
Arabella raised her eyes to Gervaise. She wanted to tell him that he could damned well leave this minute and never come back. He could shoot himself. He could drown himself in the fishpond. She wanted to demand what he knew and why he had come here in the first place. She also realized that she’d heard a note of falseness in his lilting voice. It was now very clear to her. His concern didn’t reach his dark eyes. Perhaps it was relief she saw, relief that she had not died? What was going on here? How could she find out?
She forced herself to smile brightly at him. “I accept your apology, comte. I most readily forgive you, for I also wished to explore the chambers. The fault is both of ours.” Had her voice sounded as false as the comte’s? She hoped it did, to him, the bastard. She didn’t dare look toward Justin. She imagined he would tell her quite plainly exactly what he thought later.
Lady Ann said, “All that matters is that your are safe. I now wish to give an order. No more exploring those old ruins. I remember your father extracting such a promise from you years ago. Come, promise me again.”
Yes, Arabella thought, Father wanted me to stay away from the ruins. There is no doubt at all in my mind. He was afraid of what I would discover. She felt sick, sick to her very soul, but managed to say, “That is the easiest promise I will ever have to keep, Mama.”
Dr. Branyon shifted his attention to Gervaise. He was beginning to detest the young man as much as the earl did, but for different reasons. He was afraid that he posed a threat to Ann. What kind of threat, he didn’t know, but it was a fear, deep in his gut. And he wondered yet again what Justin had found out about him and what he was planning to do. Would he simply allow him to leave? He said smoothly, “I understand, monsieur, that you will leave Evesham Abbey shortly.”
Gervaise gazed between half-closed lids at the earl before replying smoothly, “Yes, Doctor, there are pressing matters that await my attention. I have enjoyed my leisure here in England, but I must return to Bruxelles.”
Dr. Branyon said, “Well, you have stayed here for a long time, have you not? Perhaps it is best that you return to your home.”
Gervaise looked about at all of them. He knew the earl was aware of his goal when he’d come back to tell of Arabella’s accident. Ah, but he didn’t know what it was that Gervaise was after. And that was why the earl hadn’t kicked him out. He wanted to know. Then he would want to kill him. Well, the damned earl would learn about everything soon enough. And Gervaise wouldn’t be the one to die. It made him smile.
Arabella found herself closely studying Gervaise’s face. If only she could unravel why he had come to Evesham Abbey in the first place. Surely he could not be so vile as to purposely set out to seduce his own half-sister. No, surely that would be beyond anyone. By chance her eyes roved to the head of the table. She caught her breath in surprise at the glint of anger in her husband’s eyes. She quickly turned her attention back to the small square of pork on her plate. How very stupid of me, she thought. Justin observed me looking at Gervaise. He didn’t believe her innocent. He would never believe her.
Arabella wished she could simply leave everyone right now, and take her husband with her. But there was an evening to be endured, unspoken lies in the air like layers of dust. How she hated the deception, the secrets.
Finally, at the close of
one of Elsbeth’s recitals, Arabella turned gratefully to Dr. Branyon as he rose and took her hand in his. He kissed her fingers, then said, “You will go to bed now, Arabella, no arguments.”
She gave him a curtsy. “It would be unbecoming of me to disagree with my future new papa. I most readily do your bidding, sir.” She rose on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
He patted her hand fondly, then turned to Lady Ann. “I must go now, Ann, but I shall fetch you in the morning for our outing.”
Arabella was on the verge of taking herself to bed when she chanced to see Elsbeth gaze with clouded confusion at Gervaise. She’d been blind not to see much sooner how her sister wore her heart on her sleeve. She determined then and there, despite the fatigue that was making her eyes droop, that she would not leave Elsbeth alone with Gervaise. The least she could do was to keep them separated until Gervaise left. She paced about the room for several moments, racking her brain for a solution. The earl watched her, wondering what the hell she was up to. He saw her eyes rest upon Elsbeth, and then, more pointedly, on Gervaise. Something was strange here.
He wanted her to himself. All to himself. He said in a calm cool voice, “I agree with Paul. It’s time for you to fly off to your bed.”
That was it. Arabella said, “Yes, I should indeed go to my bed. Oh, Elsbeth, would you not accompany me to my room? I should like it above all things if you would tuck me up.”
Elsbeth looked up, startled. She had thought to speak to Gervaise, since he was to leave so shortly, to ask him what he planned now that her stepmother was to marry Dr. Branyon. But she could not think of refusing her sister. She readily agreed and rose to walk to Arabella’s side.
“We bid you good night, gentlemen,” Arabella said. She took Elsbeth’s small hand firmly in hers and tugged her in lockstep unceremoniously to the door.
Once in her nightgown, her black hair brushed loose down her back, Elsbeth counting the one hundred strokes, Arabella smiled at Elsbeth and kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I’m glad you came with me. We haven’t spent enough time together. But soon we will. Soon, you will see. Do go to bed now, Elsbeth. It is late and I can see that you are tired.”
She wondered if she should follow to make certain that Elsbeth didn’t join Gervaise. It made her blood run cold to think of them together.
Elsbeth yawned and stretched like an innocent child at peace with the world. “Yes, I shall go to my room now. Thank you, Bella, for lending me Grace. I am so very clumsy without Josette.” Her piquant face crumpled at the mention of her old servant’s name.
Arabella didn’t know what to say. She knew that Elsbeth missed Josette. After all, Josette had been with her all her life. She had been like a mother to her. She simply patted her sister’s hand and said gently, “I know, Elsbeth. I thank you for coming up with me.”
Arabella slipped into her bed and blew out the candle beside her. She knew Justin would come to her soon. There was so much to be said. But for the moment she was alone, alone to think, to sort out the many facts and half-truths she had discovered.
She knew the contents of Magdalaine’s letter almost by heart now. She had read it several times again before going down to dinner. As to the letter itself, she had slipped it into the toe of one of her evening slippers, a hiding place that she knew to be safe—even Grace never went poking about in her shoes, except to hover with the feather duster over them, and that surely no more than once a month.
She sat up suddenly. Lord, what a fool she was. Josette must have known everything. Did she not ensure the dispatching of Magdalaine’s letters to her lover, Charles? Of course, Josette must have known that Gervaise was Magdalaine’s son. Josette—the old woman was now dead. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. A tragic fall down the main staircase in the middle of the night with no candle to guide her.
Her mind leaped back to the afternoon. She was as certain as she could be that the collapse in the old abbey ruins was no accident. But then, if Gervaise had wished to harm her—or kill her, for that matter—why did he return so quickly with Justin to rescue her? What possible reason could he have had for any of his actions? Nothing made any sense.
She shook her head. Where was her husband? Her shoulders slumped. She felt as though she was wandering through the maze in Richmond Park without the key to show the way out. The key to this maze was the reason why Gervaise had come to Evesham Abbey in the first place.
It seemed obvious that her father must have known of Gervaise’s existence as the natural son of his first wife. That must be the reason why Gervaise had not come until after her father’s death. But was there something else her father had known about him, something else that had kept him away?
Suddenly, the door opened and the earl came into the bedchamber. He was wearing an old dark blue brocade dressing gown, the same one he had worn on their wedding night, its elbows grown thin over the years. His feet were bare. She knew he was naked beneath the dressing gown. Her fingers clenched. She felt heat wash through her. Everything, suddenly, seemed so simple.
She said to him as he neared the bed, “Gervaise was never my lover. It was Elsbeth, not I.”
The earl came to a dead stop. He saw that long-ago moment in his mind as clear as if it had been but an hour before. So clear it had been to him, all of it. He said slowly, “I saw you humming as you walked out of the barn the day before our wedding. It was just moments after Gervaise, looking as furtive as a pickpocket, slipped out.”
“Because of that you believed I betrayed you?” The pulse was pounding in her neck. It was nothing, and yet he had turned on her? She wanted to leap up and attack him, but she didn’t move, just waited. She swallowed hard.
“No, there was more. When you came out, your gown was wrinkled, indeed, you were buttoning some buttons and trying to straighten it. You even had to lean down and tie the ribbons on your slipper. Your hair was a mess, filled with straw. You looked very pleased with yourself.”
Still, she forced herself to keep silent. He sat down on the end of the bed. “I didn’t know what to think—the comte came out. He had the look of a man who had just made love to a woman. It is a look every man knows well. There was no mistake. I was very certain, and I wanted to kill both myself and you for betraying me. Ah, and I wanted to wring his damned neck.”
“You truly had no doubts then?”
“No, I was certain what had happened. I didn’t want to believe it, but I did. There was no doubt at all in my mind. I wanted to die.”
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“You left immediately then?” He nodded. “You are telling me that if I had remained but a few more minutes, I would have seen Elsbeth coming out of the barn?”
“Yes.”
He ran his fingers through his black hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She could but stare at him.
He realized what he had said and shook his head. “No, you did tell me, didn’t you? But not about Elsbeth.”
“Yes, I did tell you once I realized what you believed, but you didn’t want to hear anything I said. You believed me guilty with no trial at all.”
“Yes,” he said slowly, “I did. I believed what I had seen. There was no doubt in my mind. But then—” He shrugged. He looked over at her. “I came to believe that you weren’t entirely to blame for what you had done. I came to believe that you felt trapped because of what your father had forced upon you. All I wanted was for you to tell me the truth—but of course you refused. When did you learn about Elsbeth?”
“When I was riding with Suzanne. She had seen the looks between them. She brought it up. At first I could just stare at her. At first I couldn’t bring myself to believe her—shy Elsbeth, so diffident, so much a child.”
“She is not a child if she gave herself to Gervaise.”
“No, but she is still innocent.”
“Now you defend her.”
Arabella nodded. If she told him all of it then it would come out that her father was a murderer. She would take that to her grave. She knew that
now. He must never know. “She is my half-sister,” she said, and raised her chin.
Then he stood and was beside her, lifting her in his arms. “None of it is important right now. All that is important is that you forgive me. Dear God, I had prayed you would confess your betrayal to me, and like the magnanimous gentleman, I would have forgiven you. I deserve to be whipped.”
“Yes,” she said. “But not just this moment. Perhaps tomorrow I could take a whip to you. Or best, we wait until we have a roaring argument. What do you think?”
He kissed her, very lightly, very gently. She wanted to cry. “You truly believe me now?” she whispered against his mouth.
“Yes, I believe you. I will never disbelieve you again. I am a dog. I am a blind dog. If only I had told you exactly what I had seen, but I didn’t. Please kick me.”
“No, I’m sorry, but not now.”
He held her face between his hands. “You are my wife and if you will forgive me, then we will begin anew.”
“I would like that.”
“You will forgive me?”
“Yes, I must. I really have no choice.”
“That first night together, Arabella. You were a virgin, utterly innocent, so happy, so filled with anticipation and I violated you. I am more sorry about that than I can tell you. Will you give me another chance? Will you let me love you now? I swear to you that I can do it right.”
She remembered that night, the humiliation, the pain, the helplessness. “It is difficult,” she said, her breath warm against his lips. “Very difficult. But I love you, something I cannot seem to help. Yes, Justin, I would like you to love me now.”
He kissed her again, and yet again, only this time he wasn’t gentle at all.
And when she was on her back, her nightgown on the floor beside the bed, her husband over her, his hands lightly stroking over her breasts and belly, she said, “Our marriage did not begin so very well.”
“No, but from this moment on, it will be as perfect as I can make it.” His hand slipped lower to stroke her. Her hips arched and she stared up at him. He was smiling, and there was wickedness in those gray eyes of his. “Yes,” he said, as he kissed her breasts, “you have the same look in your eyes when you’re pleased with yourself.”
The Heir Page 26
