“What is rightfully yours, Gervaise? Most assuredly you’re not a comte of anything. You are not even a Trécassis. You are a bastard, nothing more, nothing less. If the emeralds do exist, they would belong to Elsbeth, for she is legitimate. Nothing here belongs to you.”
He stood staring at her, his mouth working, his pain and rage so deep that he could find no words.
“Damn you, where are my emeralds?”
“I have no idea. Did it not occur to you that the skeleton in the old abbey ruins was your father? I know it for a fact, for after you so obligingly entombed me in that chamber, I found a letter from Magdalaine to him in his breeches pocket. There is no doubt, Gervaise. His name was Charles. He was your father.”
She saw it all come together in his dark eyes, saw the understanding, saw the string of events that had led to this day. He lunged at her. “Damn you to hell, your father killed him!” He was in a frenzy, taking her off her guard. His fingers tightened painfully about her wrist, and the pistol went spinning from her hand and thudded to the floor.
He flung her away from him, gasping, his breathing so harsh she imagined that he surely would collapse from it. She grabbed at the back of a chair to keep from falling. Arabella watched him pull the pistol from his belt. She watched him pick up her father’s gun and lay it on a table beside him. His hands were shaking. Still she felt no fear of him, only anger at herself for being so foolish as to allow him to catch her unawares. If only she could get close enough, she would attack him.
“Now, my dear Arabella,” he said in a soft lilting voice, as if nothing had happened, “now, I shall know the truth from you. Be quick about it for your husband must be near.”
“I cannot help you, Gervaise. I don’t know anything about the Trécassis emeralds.”
She saw a sudden transformation in him. His dark eyes widened. He smiled at her unpleasantly. Now, for the first time, she was afraid. He said in that same soft lilting voice, “You know, my dear countess, you are really quite lovely. Perhaps it would not be a bad thing at all to have you for my companion, at least until your wealthy husband provides me with ample compensation. Of course, I would prefer the emeralds, but if you will not tell me where you have hidden them, I shall not repine. You will enjoy Bruxelles, Arabella. You will enjoy me as a lover. You will enjoy me until your husband pays for your release. Ah, but perhaps then you won’t wish to return to him. What do you think?”
She laughed, actually laughed at him. She didn’t know where that wonderful laughter came from, but she was thankful for it. It sounded nearly sincere to her own ears. “Do you really believe you could force me to accompany you? Do you really believe I would allow you to rape me? Do you really believe that my husband wouldn’t kill you with his bare hands if I hadn’t managed to do it first? Do you believe in your wildest fantasies that I would prefer you to my husband? No, I can see that you can’t even dream that to your advantage.
“Now, I know nothing about your emeralds, Gervaise. Yes, now I can see that the thought of dragging me screaming and kicking from here gives you pause. It should because you would never know anything but hatred from me and the threat of death. Doubt it not, Gervaise.”
She heard a man’s deep voice behind her. “No, I would kill you before my wife could, you pathetic little bastard. And as she said, I would do it with my bare hands.”
Arabella whirled around to see the earl standing quietly in the open doorway. In his outstretched right hand he held a pile of bright green stones, sprays of diamonds flashing around them. Huge green stones that glittered in the dim candlelight. The de Trécassis emeralds. But Justin wasn’t carrying a weapon. “Yes, monsieur, I have your bloody emeralds.”
Her heart leapt at the sight of him, so calm, so in control as he always was. “Justin, oh, you’re here. I knew you would come quickly. I am sorry that I lost my gun, so very sorry. If I hadn’t, surely I could have killed him by now. Please forgive me.”
“No,” he said. He smiled at her, not a gentle smile, but one that held great love and rage, an odd combination, but she understood it and accepted it. It would always be so between them, she realized in that instant. They were so alike that they would fight like demons from hell itself, but then there was such a deep bond between them that it could never be severed. It would but become stronger. She knew that as surely as she knew that both of them would survive this night.
The earl said finally to Gervaise, “We knew you would come back tonight. There was no other choice since I had ordered you to be gone from Evesham Abbey tomorrow. Would you have left, I wonder, if you hadn’t found the emeralds? Or would you have lurked about in the woods somewhere, hoping to try again?”
“No,” the comte said. “I would have taken one of the women and held them captive until you returned to me what was mine. The emeralds are mine. Give them to me.”
The earl only shook his head, though his hand, filled to overflowing with those emeralds, was still outstretched toward Gervaise. “Yes, that would be a better plan. But it won’t happen. Did you think me a fool, Gervaise? I knew weeks ago that you were not the Comte de Trécassis. Although my informant was uncertain as to your true heritage, I ordered him to keep looking. Yes, monsieur, I sought more knowledge of you. I didn’t want to order you out of my house until I knew what you were about. I guessed you were a bloody little fraud, I knew you were dangerous, I just didn’t realize how dangerous until after Arabella and I found Josette’s body, until after I realized you had caused the collapse in the old abbey, endangering Arabella. It was then I knew it was something in the earl’s bedchamber. What other room was there that you could not enter with impunity? How you must have gnashed your teeth when I kept the door locked.
“But enough. I searched your room, you know, just this afternoon while Arabella kept you out of Evesham Abbey. Without the exact instructions Magdalaine wrote to Thomas de Trécassis of the hiding place of the emeralds, I knew I should never know what it was you sought. With the instructions, it was all quite simple. The frustration you must have known all these weeks. I could almost feel pity for you if you weren’t such a villainous little sod.”
“Damn you, the emeralds are mine!”
The earl shook his head. He turned to Arabella. “I really wish you had remained safe at the ball.”
Gervaise looked at the earl. It was all so very easy. There, the earl, all his attention riveted on his wife. The stupid man had no gun. Gervaise pointed the pistol at him. “I will have them now, my lord. Give me those damned emeralds.”
The earl, to Arabella’s shock, merely stared at Gervaise, his look one of boredom. Bored? “As you will, monsieur,” the earl said. “They are really not all that important, you see.”
“I don’t trust you. Why didn’t you bring a weapon? You are planning something, I know it. What is it?”
The earl merely shrugged. Then he tossed the necklace to Gervaise. He said nothing, merely watched as Gervaise slipped it into his pocket. He now pointed the weapon directly at the earl. “You know, my lord,” Gervaise said easily, “it should have been so very simple for me to fetch the emeralds. But no, you had to meddle. You had to tell the world that there are loose floorboards, thus the locked door.
“And, Arabella, yes, she had to meddle as well. You forced me to go to desperate lengths, my lord, to retrieve what was by all rights mine. The old servant Josette was an encumbrance, with all her righteous rantings about conscience and duty. It was a pity, her death. It really does not matter now if you believe me, but I will tell you. I sought only to speak to the old woman that night, but she fled from me—afraid, she was, so afraid that she ran down the dark corridor, tripped, and fell down the stairs. As to causing the rocks to collapse in the old abbey ruins, I had no wish to harm you, Arabella, merely to empty Evesham Abbey of his lordship’s interfering presence. Well, the game has taken a complicated turn, my lord, but I shall contrive. I know that you would not face me without a weapon unless you had an army of men waiting just outside this room.
That is true, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps. You will not know until you try to leave.”
Gervaise paused, then continued in a meditative voice, “You know, my lord, I have never liked you. Arrogantly proud you are, just like the old earl, that filthy old man. Of course, I could not come for my birthright while he lived. Thomas de Trécassis cautioned me to wait, to be patient.”
“No! Gervaise, no! It cannot be true! You are a thief? You are stealing from Justin?”
All of them stared blankly at Elsbeth, who stood just inside the bedchamber, breathing hard, for she had run as fast as she could up the stairs. “No, Gervaise, stop it now. You love me, don’t you? At least you love me as you would a cousin? Don’t do this. I cannot bear that you are doing this.”
It was Gervaise who recovered first. He stared at Elsbeth, as emotionless as he would regard a stranger. “Elsbeth, you should not have come. I was just on the point of leaving. I have stolen nothing at all. I have what is mine.”
“You came here just to seduce me, didn’t you? It was some sort of twisted revenge?”
“No, my dear,” he said, his voice oddly gentle, “I came here to find the de Trécassis emeralds. You were like a ripe plum to fall into my hands. I have always enjoyed virgins, Elsbeth, their anticipation, their fright, their little whimpers of pain. But even as a virgin you were of little interest to me. Forgive me, Elsbeth, but that wasn’t what a gentleman should say to a lady, is it?”
Elsbeth drew herself up. She said very slowly, “I believe that you are no gentleman, sir. You seduced me, you professed to love me, and you cared not a whit for me. What did you want?”
He drew the emerald necklace from his pocket. “This,” he said. “The emeralds are mine. I came only to get them. Now that I have them, I will leave you. I don’t wish you ill, Elsbeth. But you won’t interfere now. Stand very still, my dear girl, or you will not like what I will do to your sister.”
Arabella laughed. “I thought you told me twice, Gervaise, that you wouldn’t hurt me. Why, you made me feel like a helpless little maiden who should twitter behind her hand.”
“Shut up, damn you.”
“Gervaise,” Elsbeth said, not moving an inch, “this is all a mistake. Do you swear to me that you will simply leave? Do you swear that you will not harm anyone?”
“No, my dearest cousin, I cannot swear to that. If you weren’t so utterly credulous, so completely simple, you would realize that there are a score of men waiting for me to emerge from Evesham Abbey. Indeed, I can’t imagine why they let you pass. Did you not see them? You’re shaking your head. Well, perhaps they were told to remain hidden until I appeared. They also doubtless have orders from the damned earl to kill me. That is why he looks so calm, so arrogant.
“Though I am not by nature a murderer, unlike your father, madame,” he said, staring at Arabella, “I do not think, my lord earl, that I shall be overly troubled at your unfortunate demise. It is an eye for an eye, as you English say. Then I shall take your lovely Arabella. She will be my hostage. I won’t take Elsbeth. Ah, but the countess is another matter. She is his daughter, that dirty bastard. None of the men you have waiting for me will dare to touch me as long as I have her. Yes, I think this the wisest course to follow.”
The earl swiftly measured the distance between him and the comte, saw the pistol had yet to be cocked, and dived his hand into the pocket of his cloak for Arabella’s small gun that he’d taken from the bedside table.
“I hope you rot in hell with her father,” Gervaise yelled as he whipped back the hammer and stepped forward even as he fired.
“Damn you, no!” Arabella threw herself in front of her husband.
33
A deafening roar rent the silence of the room. Arabella felt a great force hit dead on into her body, its impact flinging her backward. She was vaguely aware that Justin’s arm was about her waist, keeping her upright. She saw Gervaise frantically leaping for her pistol on the table, his face distorted with frustrated rage. She felt Justin’s arm jerk up, saw her own small pistol in his hand, and heard its staccato report. How odd Gervaise suddenly appeared. He clapped his hand to his arm and sank forward to the carpet on his knees. She heard Justin cursing.
She heard Elsbeth scream. The scream sounded so very far away. She felt a strange lassitude.
It was as if through a darkening mist that she saw her husband’s face above her, and said only, “Justin, are you all right? My love, are you all right?”
Suddenly, she felt weightless, only dimly aware that the earl had lifted her into his arms. She thought she heard him speaking to her, but she could not be certain. She heard Elsbeth sobbing now and wanted to go to her sister, but she couldn’t. He was holding her. She felt strangely without substance. She felt very close to nothingness.
“I am fine,” she heard him say. “I’m so sorry, Arabella. I came with the pistol hidden because I knew you were here with him and I was afraid you would get hurt. Damnation, look at what my stupidity has brought. I should have walked in and shot the bastard—no words, nothing.”
“No,” she whispered, just a flutter of a sound. “Not your fault, none of it.” She tried to focus her eyes on her husband’s face, but saw instead a movement from the corner of her eye. Deep cold fear brought her momentarily back to her senses. Gervaise was staggering to his feet and moving, swiftly now, across the room to the open door. She saw him shove Elsbeth aside. She saw her sister tumble to the floor, crying out as she hit her head against a table leg.
“He is escaping.”
“Don’t worry, Arabella. He won’t go very far at all. The little bastard was right about that. I’ve more than a dozen men waiting for him to appear.”
She managed to focus for an instant on his beloved face above hers. “But, Justin,” she said, “I wanted to kill him. He should die for what he did to Elsbeth.” Then it was too much. Pain ripped through her, crushing her, dragging her into darkness so profound that she knew there would be no escape. But she didn’t want to die, she didn’t want to leave her husband after they had finally come together, she didn’t want—
She felt the bed under her and saw her husband’s face above her—naught but a pale blur. “It’s all right, Arabella. Let Gervaise go. It’s not important. Only you are important. Only you.”
She accepted his words and was silent. Yet there was something else that was important, something she had to tell him. She struggled to keep the blackness from pulling her away, mayhap away from him forever. “Justin, you must listen to me.”
“No, love, be quiet, please.” She felt his hands on her gown, ripping it open.
She tried with her last ounce of strength. “I don’t want to die, but I might, and you know it. You must know the truth in case I do. Justin, please, listen.” Her voice was only a whisper now, raw and harsh, and he leaned very close to hear her. “Elsbeth is Gervaise’s half-sister. Magdalaine is their mother. I found a letter on the skeleton in the abbey ruins. The skeleton was Gervaise’s father and Magdalaine was his lover. My father, oh God, Justin, he must have killed them both.”
His voice was as calm as night. “I understand, Arabella. You can trust me. You are not to worry about anything now.” It was all right then. She let the darkness close over her mind and take her away from the pain.
The earl had ripped away her bodice and the silk chemise below, to bare the wound in her shoulder. The ball had entered high above her left breast. If she had not thrown herself in front of him, he thought grimly, the bullet would have gone straight through his heart. He worked with the efficiency that the years in the army had taught him, all of his energy focused on stanching the flow of blood. He wadded his handkerchief into a thick pad and pressed it over the wound. The blood welled up over his fingers. Even as he heard the servants’ hurried footsteps up the stairs, pounding loudly down the corridor, he did not look up or lessen the steady pressure.
He did not even care when a man named Potter, whom the earl had hired to oversee the other ten
or so men, appeared at his side, panting hard, saying at last, “We’ve got him, my lord. I’m sorry, but we had to shoot him.”
He heard Elsbeth cry out.
“He is dead then?”
“Not yet, my lord, but I don’t hold out much hope for him.”
Even though he had ordered all the staff belowstairs for the evening, the sound of gunfire had, thankfully, made them disobey his orders. Giles stood panting in the doorway. “Oh my God, my lord! Oh, Jesus, what should I do?”
The earl said quickly, “Giles, ride to Talgarth Hall and fetch Dr. Branyon. Tell him that the countess has been shot and he is needed urgently. Go, quickly. Tell him, too, that it is all over.”
He heard Crupper’s familiar wheezing behind Giles. “Giles is bringing Dr. Branyon. Crupper, have Mrs. Tucker tear up clean linen and bring hot water. Quickly, man.”
Crupper was weaving where he stood. “Yes, my lord,” he finally managed. “But, my lord, let me kill the damned blighter first!”
“You can consider that later, Crupper. But first get me the cloths and the hot water.”
“Yes, my lord. First things first. Of course her ladyship is more important than that piece of slime from a foreign swamp.”
The earl could only shake his head. He kept the pressure on the wound. He prayed. He looked up to see Elsbeth weaving where she stood, her face white. As he looked at her, he now saw the tremendous resemblance between her and Gervaise. Never would she know, for he would never tell her, nor would Arabella. “It is all right now, Elsbeth. I am sorry that you were betrayed by Gervaise. But it is over now. You are all right. He will pay for what he has done. No, don’t cry, Elsbeth, don’t cry. I don’t want him dead. But listen to me, sweetheart, he deserves whatever he gets.”
The Heir Page 31
