Brides of Falconfell

by Bancroft, Blair

  “No need,” Alice returned with scorn. “Foolish girl was a neck or nothing rider. Maud and I merely made certain she’d never recover.”

  “And the night Justine died?”

  Alice Maxwell chuckled. “A fine bit of play-acting, that was. I delivered the composer Maud prepared, watched her drink it, then went back to the stillroom where Maud had dosed herself with laudanum. I knocked a few bits to the floor, added bruises to complicate the mystery, and took myself off to bed.”

  “’Twas you who attacked Fraser.”

  “Idiot man. Creeping about the cellars where I’d hid myself. What else could I do? And, besides, the old sot knew too much. My son will be Lord of Falconfell,” she added in ringing tones. “I’ll let nothing and no one stand in his way.”

  She was still kneeling, her gaze fixed on some glorious vision of Ross as Baron Hammersley, when Maud cried, “He’s mine! Ross is mine,” and raised a knife high above Alice’s shoulders.

  Alice Maxwell never hesitated. Swinging the shotgun with all her considerable weight, she knocked Maud off her feet, catapulting her down into the shake hole, where she lay unmoving. Except for soft sobs from Violet and bits of earth trickling down from where Maud had been standing, all was silent.

  I approached Maud warily, not because I feared her but because I truly didn’t want to find the mad old woman dead. I knelt beside her, searching for a heartbeat. And found it, though it was weak and fluttery. “She’s still alive,” I called up to Alice. “But I suppose when you’ve killed so many it doesn’t matter.” I was thinking of Helen and Justine and the attack on Fraser, which had clearly been intended as a death blow. I did not anticipate her reply.

  “So you figured that out too,” she said, her look almost prideful. “But I couldn’t let Hugh and his stupid wife bring up my son, now could I? I thought their carriage accident a brilliant stroke, bringing Ross back to Falconfell, to be raised with Thayne.”

  I gaped. “You arranged their carriage accident?”

  “Men are so easily manipulated into doing anything a woman wants.” She gave me another of her bone-chilling smiles.

  Thayne! Where are you?

  No, no, no, he mustn’t deliver himself straight into a shotgun blast.

  No, no gun blast, I reasoned. The Lord of Falconfell had to die naturally, leaving no doubts about the succession.

  But reason was cold comfort. Buried forever at the bottom of a shake hole, did it matter how we died? And that is likely what Alice planned. She would use Violet and me to force Thayne into the hole . . . but could she truly bring the sides down on top of us with a few well-placed shotgun blasts?

  Surely Ross, Rab, the male servants would come to our rescue . . .

  But was Ross in on it? Partner to the murders that would make him Baron Hammersley?

  Avoiding Alice Maxwell’s gaze, I trudged back to stand looking up into those brilliant blue eyes, now filled with an odd mix or excitement and icy determination. “And Ross?” I asked. “Does he approve of what you’re doing? Is he a co-conspirator, in your plot?”

  “Men!” she returned with disgust. “So blind, so full of so-called nobility that makes them weak. Loyalty.” She spat the word. “There he was, poor little boy, so sad about losing mummy and daddy, and never turning to me, his true mother, for comfort.”

  Almost casually, Alice let the shotgun drop until I was looking straight up the barrel. She bent over and peered down at me, a terrifying imitation of a smile once again playing over her face. “But when he’s Hammersley, I’ll tell him,” she hissed. “I promise you he’ll know whom to thank.”

  A sob from Violet provided welcome distraction. I sank down and took her in my arms, but my mind raged. How could I sit here, tamely accepting my fate?

  How could I not? Any escape attempt would result in both Violet and I lying in a pool of our own blood. I could only hope the men were more careful in their approach than I had been. But how? The valley of Swallowin’ Sam stretched treeless end to end, side to side. There was no place to hide, no way to sneak up on Alice unless she failed to keep watch behind her, as I had. And that seemed highly unlikely.

  As the minutes stretched on, I kept assuring Violet that her papa would come, even as I dreaded the moment. Dreaded the final act in the Hammersley tragedy. The Lord of Falconfell, his wife, and child dead in an unfortunate accident.

  No! Finally, I recognized my meager role in this debacle: keep Alice Maxwell’s attention focused on me until help arrived. “I take it Thayne and Ross have the same father,” I offered.

  She smirked. “Noticed me the very day I joined he staff,” she declared proudly. “Took me to his bed within the week.”

  “Did he know you were his cousin?”

  “Oh, aye, how could he miss the eyes?”

  “But he sent you away—”

  “Only ’til the babe was born,” Alice declared with glowing pride. “Brought me back as head housemaid, he did, and within the year I was housekeeper.”

  “Drop the shotgun, Alice.” Thayne’s voice had never sounded more glorious.

  “So you’re here at last.” I heard a hint of relief, as well as satisfaction, in Alice Maxwell’s response.

  Violet and I scrambled to our knees, looking up. Thayne stood a good six feet from Alice, who had the shotgun pointed straight at his chest. “Shoot me,” he said, “and there’s not a magistrate in Northumberland who wouldn’t indict you for murder.”

  “I don’t care,” she cried. The click of the shotgun lever readying the gun to fire, sent terror to my soul.

  “No, Alice!” I shouted. “If you kill him, the whole story will come out. Ross will be known as a bastard. He can’t inherit.”

  She made the mistake of glaring down at me, swinging the gun in my direction. Thayne pounced, wrenching the gun away,. Shot peppered the bottom of the shake hole, all too close for comfort. And then Alice was running, running blindly farther and farther into the depths of the valley. A rumble, a long scream, suddenly cut off. Small avalanches of earth and pebbles tumbled down the sides of our hole as the ground around us shook. By the time an eerie silence descended over the valley, our hole was surrounded by what looked like every able-bodied male at Falconfell.

  Thayne took only his brothers with him as they made their way to Alice Maxwell’s grave. For that’s what it was, they discovered. The new shake hole was so deep, any attempt to dig her out only brought down more earth on top of the rescuers. After Ross was nearly buried alive in an attempt to find her, the three of them came trudging back, shaking their heads.

  Meanwhile, I’d been able to find a rock to attach to the end of my rope, which I tossed up to Murchison, and by the time the Hammersley brothers returned, a sling had been devised from two footmen’s jackets to carry Maud home. Violet and I walked back to Falconfell, Thayne’s arm around my shoulder, Violet clinging to his hand on the other side.

  Was it over, actually over?

  Did Thayne still need me? Want me? I certainly hadn’t been much help in this final crisis.

  Then again, I had not fallen into a fit of the vapors at the bottom of the hole. Would that be enough to qualify me as Lady of Falconfell? Or would Thayne find me wanting, our marriage a sham, an estate to be endured rather than enjoyed?

  We climbed the slight rise toward the house, our footsteps clumping over the wooden bridge. In spite of the warm arm around my shoulders, my fears grew with each step.

  To my husband I was a convenience, nothing more. Like so many women, I was destined to love but never be loved. To take my joy in children and home and—

  You’ve just escaped death by a hair’s breadth and you’re feeling sorry for yourself?

  “Good God, Serena, what’s funny about all this?” Thayne demanded as a giggle escaped me.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I think I’m finally having hysterics.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Anyone who might have thought Ross involved in his mother’s crimes should have seen
his face when he learned of Alice Maxwell’s long-term plot to make him Baron Hammersley. He vowed to leave Falconfell on the instant and never come back. He would emigrate, he said. Thayne told him not to be such a nodcock. Falconfell could not do without him. And if every man who felt guilt emigrated, there would scarce be a soul left in England.

  Ross subsided. Rab showed his pleasure by giving his equally bastard brother a slap on the back that nearly knocked him from his chair.

  After this revelation, performed in the privacy of Thayne’s study with only the three brothers and I present, we gathered in the drawing room, where Isabelle and Avery waited to hear the news. We included Fraser, Murchison, and Nanny as well, although I’d had a bit of trouble prying her away from Violet, who was left in the care of not one but two devoted nursery maids.

  After swearing everyone to secrecy Thayne and I took turns repeating the sad tale of Alice Maxwell’s overweening ambition. Only Fraser didn’t look surprised.

  “But why kill Justine?” Isabelle asked. “Thayne was sending her away.”

  “That may have been aimed at me,” Ross offered. “I–I was enamored, I admit it. I could see her faults, but I lusted after her. Alice actually warned me about her. Rather stunned me by declaring Justine wasn’t good enough for me. I told the old biddy”—he paused, evidently realizing he was speaking of his mother—“she was getting above her station and to mind her own business. In retrospect . . .” Ross heaved a sigh. “I suspect she decided to make certain Justine would never be a bride of Falconfell.”

  “And Maud?” Isabelle inquired in her most haughty, aristocratic tones.

  “Maud,” Thayne replied, “will stay in her suite of rooms, under guard, for the rest of her life. You may visit her, if you wish, but she will never again set foot downstairs. Everything in her stillroom will be thrown out—”

  “There are hundreds of vital plants and herbs in there,” I cried. “We need them for medicinal purposes.”

  “And who’s to know if the vials are properly labeled? Even if it smells of lavender or basil, how do we know Maud has not contaminated each and every one?”

  Speechless, I stared at him. He was absolutely right, though the thought of throwing out a lifetime’s accumulation of both common and exotic herbs made me quite ill. I nodded, waving away any protest I might have had.

  Thayne turned his attention to Avery. “Though not of our blood, you are our little brother. I know you have a property of your own in Lancashire, but I want you to know you are always welcome here. Any time you wish, for as long as you wish.”

  A strangled sound from Isabelle. Avery’s face crumpled; I think we all feared he was going to cry. Avery stood and crossed to Thayne, shaking his hand, a heartfelt thank-you bursting from his lips. As he returned to his seat, Thayne turned to Isabelle. “You too are always welcome here, Isabelle, but I suspect you would rather be free to do the Season in London, visit friends, perhaps take the waters in Bath. It’s time for freedom, dear Step-mama. I stand guarantor for Avery.”

  I had not thought it possible, but silent tears slid out of Isabelle’s eyes, ran down her cheeks, dripped off her chin. I offered her my handkerchief and she returned a watery smile. After daintily blowing her nose, she too managed a thank-you, adding softly, “That you could even think of me at a time like this . . .” Her voice trailed away into a hiccup.

  “It’s clear,” Thayne offered “that I cannot ask Serena to put Falconfell in order without doing my own part to straighten out the tangled maze we’ve made of our lives.” He offered me a rueful smile, which nonetheless managed to curl my toes.

  Thayne took the time to examine each of us in turn. “I believe the good Lord may pardon us when death comes, for we have already served our time in Hell. In any event, what we have said here today must stay a secret for all of our lives—”

  “But I can’t be your heir,” Ross cried.

  “I assure you,” Thayne returned blandly, “I intend to rectify that problem as fast as possible, though I believe nine months is an immutable requirement.”

  Gasps and coughs rippled across the room, punctuated by a loud guffaw from Rab Guthrie before he clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Oh, well, in that case . . .” Ross slumped down in his chair, fingers to his forehead, effectively covering his face and clearly hoping to disappear from everyone’s thoughts.

  I kept my head down, my fingers white-knuckling in my lap. Thayne could not have said that. I was going to die of embarrassment—another bride of Falconfell gone.

  “If you’ll excuse me, your lordship . . .” Nanny Roberts bolted for the nursery, with Fraser and Murchison on her heels.

  “Serena,” the dowager pronounced in the commanding tone she had used when I first arrived. Gratefully, I followed her lead out the door, almost bumping into her when she stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face me. “You have done well, Serena. Bringing hope to this house under great duress. Your independence, your will to survive, have helped you in a time of crisis. But do not, I beg you, rear so far up on your high horse that you cannot come back down. He is a good man, Serena, but they are all close-mouthed and certain they know best.” Isabelle patted my hand. “Compromise, my dear. Avoid recriminations. In the end he came for you, did he not?”

  Beyond embarrassment, I was now thoroughly mortified. Did everyone know what a . . . meager marriage I enjoyed?

  “And, Serena dear, I will be leaving for Brighton as soon as I am packed. Hopefully, somewhere along the journey from one end of the kingdom to the other, I shall find a way to put my fears behind me and indulge in a life of my own.”

  The barriers between us finally broke. I hugged her tight. “Isabelle, I wish you the very best. I shall miss you. And don’t forget to come back to see us.”

  “But of course, my dear.” Her lips brushed my cheek. “Am I not the Dowager Lady Hammersley?”

  After a short pause to get my emotions in check, I climbed the two flights up to the nursery, where I found Violet eating her supper with all the nonchalance of a child who has spent the afternoon reading instead of participating in tragedy. Ah, the resiliency of childhood. If only some of her calm might rub off on me.

  Do not rear up on your high horse. What was Isabelle thinking? I was as crushed and hopeless as I’d been at the bottom of the shake hole. Serena Farnborough Hammersley, unable to rescue Violet or herself. Serena, the nurse. Serena, the housekeeper. Serena, the woman who had neither the looks nor the charm to keep her husband in her bed. The husband whose taste ran to excitingly beautiful, sparkling, seductive women . . .

  I could only hope the Hammersley men and Avery were doing better at solving the problems of their relationship than I was at coming to terms with my role as wife.

  The men were so jovial at dinner. I wanted to strangle them. How could they? Isabelle caught the fulminating look in my eye and shook her head. High horse, my inner voice hissed.

  Don’t be absurd, I do not have a high horse!

  Care to place a wager on that?

  When Isabelle and I left the men to the port, we stayed only a few moments in the drawing room, agreeing that after such an emotionally exhausting day the men should forgive us for seeking our beds at an early hour.

  I have to admit I enjoyed Bess fussing over me, brushing my hair, tucking me up in bed like a child Violet’s age. But of course there was no possibility of sleep as I relived not only every moment on Swallowin’ Sam but each of the major events, good and bad, since my arrival at Falconfell. Most particularly those enchanted moments on Mid-summer’s Eve.

  But so few since . . .

  I was inadequate, a failure . . . In spite of the men’s jubilation that our ordeal was over, the danger past, I couldn’t help but wonder if Thayne was considering replacing—

  The dressing room door clicked open. The dark shadow of a man glided toward the bed. I swallowed hard, pushing back into the pillows. The bed sagged as he sat down beside me. “Serena, are you awake?”
<
br />   “Yes.”

  “Do I detect a quaver? Part of those inexplicable dark looks you have been casting at me for hours? Out with it, wife. What have I done today besides save your life?”

  “It’s all over,” I whispered. “You don’t need me anymore.”

  “Are you mad?” Thayne roared, his hands coming down hard on my shoulders. “What nonsense is this?”

  “This is only the third time you have come to my bedchamber,” I shot back with far more bravado than I felt. “Four if we count our wedding night when you did absolutely nothing but talk.”

  Thayne groaned, his hands dropped away. “And you’ve taken it into your head that I married you to acquire some kind of glorified housekeeper, and now that Falconfell is functioning well, I shall keep you solely for your housewifery and find my pleasures elsewhere.”

  “Is that not what you’ve been doing?”

  Thayne groaned. “Serena, it truly amazes me a woman of your intelligence can be such an idiot. No, no,” he added as I gathered an outraged breath to reply, “don’t bother to deny it. And I’ll even admit to helping the misunderstanding along.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, shook his head. “I have kept my own counsel all my life. And when I married, Helen never seemed to want to be let in, to know the real Thayne Hammersley. The title of baroness was quite enough to satisfy her.

  “Yet I confess I was always haunted by that young girl in London, who seemed to look straight into my soul the very first day we met. Somehow she became so well lodged there that it never occurred to me she didn’t feel the same. But how could you? A few dances, a few conversations, and I betrothed to Helen?”

  I tried to find words to respond but truthfully I was speechless. Was this possible, or was I dreaming?

  “I admit to sinning, Serena. I married Helen when I should have found a way to break the engagement, no matter how great the scandal. I sinned when I, a married man, invited you to Falconfell, knowing how I felt about you. I sinned when I talked you into marrying me so soon after Helen’s death. But I knew you could not love me as I loved you, so I tried my best to give you time. Until Mid-summer’s Eve when I sinned again, enjoying my wife to the fullest when I had begun to suspect that might be dangerous. That Helen’s death might be linked to someone not wanting an heir to Falconfell. Which made me realize you were in danger.