“Pernelia is sure to be devastated at the manner of Marianne’s death,” Lady Perry replied, “but still, don’t you think she’ll be vastly relieved? I do. Just think, she won’t feel compelled to search the woods anymore.”
“With all my heart I hope you’re right. Meantime, I’m finding it difficult to maintain a polite attitude with Edgerton.” “He’ll pay soon enough,” Lady Perry said briskly. “All will be well as soon as Douglas arrives.” She slanted Lucinda a meaningful gaze. “I suspect you’ll be pleased.”
“We...a few things went on that I haven’t told you about.”
“Then surely you’ll be happy to see him again.”
Lucinda shook her head vigorously. “Seeing Douglas again will be akin to throwing salt in an open wound. I do like him—in fact, I confess, I love him, but he rejected me with his blather about honor and not wanting to expose me to the family tragedy.”
“But don’t you think he was simply being noble?”
“He can be as noble as he likes, I don’t care. How could he have withdrawn so easily if he really cared for me? After all, I have my pride. If you think I’m anticipating that glorious moment when Douglas realizes his family is no longer in disgrace and now he can marry me, you’re wrong.”
“I’m sorry to hear you say that.”
“All I know is I shall never come crawling to him like some sort of worm. I’ve had time to think. I’ve made my plans. As soon as all this business of the tragedy is taken care of, I am going home.”
“To stay?” When Lucinda nodded yes, Lady Perry went on, “I don’t blame you, although I shall miss you terribly. I hate to say it, but my circle of friends—all the lofty ton–-is made up of people who are mainly occupied with themselves. But you? You’ve been a ray of sunshine in my life.” She paused a moment. “What of the dowry that Pernelia was going to give you if you stayed a year?”
“I won’t be receiving it, will I? But I really don’t care. Who needs a husband? I just want to be home in my own small, safe little world, with Mama and Papa, my sisters visiting from time to time, my sketching and my birds.”
“Oh, Lucinda...” Lady Perry looked as if she was about to launch into a long lecture when her butler intervened.
“You have another guest, Your Ladyship. Lord Belington has arrived.”
Lady Perry cast a puzzled glance at Lucinda. “But he could not possibly have received my note in this short a time.”
* * *
After his talk with Rose, Douglas felt the urgent need to return home as soon as possible and see Lucinda. When he’d arrived at Ravensbrook Manor, Carter was bursting with a tale about the two uninvited female visitors who, for some unfathomable reason, searched the attic, Sir Giles’s ghost, or no. Now, as Douglas strode into Lady Perry’s drawing room, Douglas felt a jolt as he recognized not only Lady Perry, but Lucinda.
He recovered swiftly. Suave as ever, he gave them both a bow and said smoothly, “Lady Perry...Miss Linley, how pleasant to see you again.” Underneath, he was quite shaken. How beautiful Lucinda looked sitting there, as beautiful a woman he had ever seen. A tug deep within him reminded him how much he wanted her. The old sadness grabbed at his heart again.
Lady Perry rose to greet him. “Do sit down, Douglas. I sent you an urgent message two days ago, but how you could have received it in this short a time is beyond me.”
He replied, “I came home because of other matters, but when my butler informed me of yours and Miss Linley’s visit to the attic I hastened here. I must confess, I’m baffled. What on earth were you searching for in my attic?”
“I shouldn’t wonder you’re perplexed,” answered Lady Perry. “And I imagine you are wondering what on earth prompted me to write such an urgent message. Well”—she shifted a quick look at Lucinda—“it’s fortunate Miss Linley is here. I want her be the one to tell you.”
Douglas seated himself. “I am all ears,” he told Lucinda, avidly curious as to what on earth she would say.
Lucinda found herself awash in mixed feelings. On the one hand, she wanted to jump up—dance a jig—shout from the housetop that Gregory, and thus the Belingtons, were innocent of all wrong-doing. But on the other hand... She thought of the horror of that poor little girl trapped in the armoire, not found all those years. Since the latter lay so heavily on her mind, she said softly, without a trace of exaltation, “Prepare yourself for a shock, Lord Belington...”
Lucinda told all, from Pitney’s admission that the attic had not been searched, to their finding Marianne in the armoire. When she finished, Douglas sat stunned and without words until he finally managed, “So let me see if I have the straight of it. Marianne was in the attic the whole time?”
“She must have been,” Lucinda answered, “and all because the servants said they searched the attic when they had not.”
Douglas shook his head in disbelief. “When Alex and I were boys we never went up there for the very same reason the servants would not—we were afraid of the ghost.”
“It seems Sir Giles has indeed wreaked his vengeance against the Belingtons,” Lady Perry said with irony. “We have all been victims, whether we believed in the ghost or not.”
A grim thought struck Douglas. “Edgerton must have been lying.”
“Of course he was.”
“Have you confronted him?”
“We were waiting for you. We have done nothing. I haven’t even told my aunt that Marianne has been found.”
“Good God!” As the realization of Edgerton’s perfidy struck, Douglas felt himself so outraged he could hardly contain himself. “Why on earth did he tell such a lie?”
“He was only a child at the time,” said Lucinda.
“Well, he’s not a child now, is he?” Full of purpose, Douglas rose to his feet.
“What are you planning?” asked Lady Perry.
“First I must see for myself. We shall go immediately to Ravensbrook Manor where I trust you will show me the child’s remains. That is...” he addressed Lady Perry “...if it won’t be too difficult for you to view them again?”
“Of course not, Douglas.”
“And you, Miss Linley? What an ordeal that must have been. You need not come along if—”
“Of course I shall come.”
Lady Perry stood quickly. “I shall just be a moment.” As she left the room, she said over her shoulder, “Douglas, you owe this all to Lucinda. If it had not been for her, we would never have found Marianne.”
They were alone. Eagerly Douglas came to sit next to her on the settee. “So you’re the one who found her.” He sat back amazed. “Do you realize what this means?”
“Of course I do.”
He plunged ahead. “It means so many things I can hardly begin to grasp the significance of it all. My family name will be cleared. The shadow that has hung over Ravensbrook all my life is at long last gone.” A cry of relief broke from his lips. “Edgerton’s vendetta against the Belingtons is over. It means Gregory can come back. It means...” He paused, his heart sinking as he realized what he’d known all along. “My title is gone. I’m a second son.”
It was all Lucinda could do not to reach out her arms to him. What did she care if he was the second son? What did she care if he was titled? But she could not let him know. So strange, what had happened to her. She knew she loved him, but ever since this ruggedly handsome man with the exceedingly commanding presence had entered the room, she feared she would lose what remained of her pride and make a complete fool of herself. True, she had done him a great service by clearing his name, but in the process had she not displayed a certain bold, unladylike behavior? Now, although she hadn’t planned it, her dignity had taken over. What was he thinking? Had he forgotten that last time they met he had rejected her? She recalled that day they first met in the woods when he’d plunged through the bushes, gun in hand. Even then, she’d been intrigued by his directness, and how overpoweringly masculine he was. Not like Papa at all, or so she had thought, but now she knew he was. And she love
d him! It was just...she had too much pride to forget how he had rejected her. She could simply not throw herself at him.
Douglas was no fool. He knew himself well, and recognized that even though he had just told her he was now a second son, he longed for her to tell him it didn’t matter. But she did not, and as much as he wanted to take her in his arms, there was something in her expression, a kind of wariness, that forewarned him not to try. He curbed his enthusiasm and remarked in a voice more contained, “I trust you, too, are pleased.” He thought of little Marianne and guardedly added, “As much as the sad circumstances allow.”
“Of course I am.”
He would try once more. After all, he would have some income, despite being a second son. “We have much to discuss,” he said, and took her hand.
She couldn’t help but stiffen, and pull her hand away. “Did we not settle everything when last we met?”
“Time passes,” he said. “Circumstances change. The obstacles we see as insurmountable one day can sometimes become obtainable the next.”
“Those are empty words, Lord Belington,” she coolly replied. “There is no future for us. You said so yourself.”
What could he say? He, who was only a second son. Apparently it made a difference.
She drew away from him. “I shall be leaving shortly. I plan to stay only long enough to assure myself that Aunt Pernelia will be all right.”
“But you don’t understand.”
“I understand only too well. Circumstances change, as you say.” She leveled a wintry gaze at him. “I’m not that easily won, sir, not by you or any man.”
Lady Perry appeared in bonnet and cloak. “After we see the attic, Douglas, where do you plan to go?”
“To Southfield, of course, where else?”
She gave him a quizzical smile. “Is that wise? I doubt Edgerton will readily confess.”
“I don’t expect him to.”
“In fact, he will be furious. There might be quite a scene.”
Douglas smiled. “After twenty-five years, a fine rouser of a scene is called for, don’t you think?”
Chapter 17
Dinner was over at Southfield. Aunt Pernelia, alone in the drawing room, looked up curiously as, without announcement, Lucinda and Lady Perry entered the drawing room, followed by—Pernelia gasped in surprise–-a man she never expected to see grace the halls of Southfield.
“I have brought Lord Belington to see you.” Lucinda settled herself on the settee and indicated Lady Perry and Douglas do the same. “He has news for the Linleys.” She added gently, “Especially you, Aunt Pernelia. But I must warn you, this will be a shock. It concerns Marianne.”
At the sound of her long-lost daughter’s name, Pernelia drew in her breath. It was as if she already knew and was bracing herself. “Do go ahead, my dear,” she said, her voice leaden with resignation. She looked directly into Douglas’s eyes and said, “You have found my little girl, haven’t you?”
Douglas knelt before her and took both her hands. In a voice more gentle than Lucinda had ever heard from him before, he said, “She was in the attic at Ravensbrook Manor the whole time. Locked in an armoire. Apparently she had crawled in, I would guess to hide. Since there was no latch inside, she was trapped and couldn’t get out.” At Pernelia’s agonized cry, he continued, “If it’s any consolation, it appears she died peacefully, as if she had simply gone to sleep.”
Lucinda half expected her aunt to break into sobs, but after the one outcry, Pernelia bit her lip and silently bowed her head. Her shoulders shook, but otherwise, during the long pause that followed, Lucinda heard not a sound. When Pernelia raised her head again, the stoic expression on her face revealed her brave acceptance of the news. She was dry-eyed, and totally in control of herself. “How could this have happened?” she asked Douglas calmly.
He related the entire story, including the servants’ fear of the ghost of Sir Giles. “I should guess it was a culmination of events and circumstances–-carelessness, the fear of ghosts, the telling of lies...I don’t pretend to know all the answers, but I intend to find out.” Douglas gazed intently into Pernelia’s eyes. “Suffice to say, I apologize for all the Belingtons.”
Pernelia placed her palm on Douglas’s cheek. “But you were never to blame, and heaven knows, you and your family have suffered, too. She managed a sad little smile. “Now I won’t have to look in the woods anymore, will I?”
“Never again.”
She gripped his sleeve. “We must lay her to rest.”
“Of course.” Tenderly Douglas took her hand. “Will this bring you peace?”
“I...I...think so.” Her expression brightened. “Yes, I believe I will. After all these years, Marianne has been found. She is at peace now, and so shall I be.”
Lucinda listened, fighting tears, feeling deeply grateful that her aunt not only accepted the news without breaking down, but had at last found peace. Douglas had used just the right touch—so warm and tender. Her own father could not have done better.
Douglas stood. “We shall make arrangements immediately.”
“What is going on here?” came a deadly calm male voice from the doorway.
Deliberately taking his time, Douglas turned to acknowledge Edgerton, who, followed by Jane and Sarah, advanced to the center of the room and regarded his visitor with ill-concealed outrage. “Good evening, Lord Linley,” Douglas said in a voice cold as a January night.
Lucinda could see that for once Edgerton, always so stony-faced, was hard-put to conceal his astonishment. He drew himself up and inquired, “You of all people dare to darken the door of Southfield?”
“We needn’t be that histrionic,” Douglas remarked affably. “I have come not only to impart news of Marianne to your mother, but also to discover some truths.”
Edgerton pointed dramatically toward the door. “I demand you leave immediately.”
Douglas appeared not in the least disturbed. In a matter-of-fact voice he said, “Marianne has been found in the attic at Ravensbrook. She was never lost in the woods.”
The effect of Douglas’s words was amazing. Lucinda watched, mesmerized, as a look of disbelief covered her cousin’s face, followed by the first hint of uncertainty.
Pernelia addressed her son, as well as Jane and Sarah. “She had become trapped in an armoire.” Her voice was strong, the vagueness gone. “She was there all this time.”
Jane gasped. Sarah, obviously in great distress, clutched her bosom and almost involuntarily cried out, “Oh, Edgerton, I knew the truth would out one day!”
“Hush, woman,” Edgerton snapped at his sister. He addressed his mother. “I am pleased they’ve finally found her, Mama. It appears that after the pony ride with Gregory, she must have come back to the house unnoticed by anyone.” He looked back around him, toward the door, as if he was planning a hasty retreat.
“Not quite so fast, Edgerton,” said Douglas. “You have some explaining to do.”
Edgerton’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “I most certainly am not obliged to explain anything to you, Belington.” He seemed to realize that for a moment he’d lost his perfect control and quickly resumed his usual impermeable expression. He couldn’t quite hide his perturbation, though. He appeared not to notice that he had started nervously licking his lips.
Pernelia chose that moment to push herself up with her cane and address her son in a regal tone that surprised everyone. “You most certainly do have some explaining to do, most especially to Lord Belington.” Her head held high, she took a challenging step forward and continued, “If not Lord Belington, then most certainly you owe an explanation to me.”
“I have nothing to say. I”—again Edgerton’s gaze shifted toward the door—”if you will excuse me, ladies, I have had enough of this conversation and shall take my leave.”
Quick as a cat, Douglas was at the door. He swiftly closed it, then leaned against it with his arms folded purposefully across his chest. “I think not, Edgerton,” he said softl
y. “Not until we hear your explanation.”
For the first time ever, Lucinda noticed beads of perspiration forming on her cousin’s forehead. He looked toward the door again, licking his lips, and seemed to consider chancing an escape, but obviously Douglas’s formidable figure dissuaded him.
Sarah came to stand beside her mother. To the astonishment of everyone, she announced, “Brother, it is time for the truth. You knew as well as I, this day had to come.”
Edgerton was now perspiring profusely. A muscle in his cheek started twitching. He was looking more and more like a trapped rat.
Jane came to stand next to Sarah. “Edgerton, I have always believed in you, and held the greatest respect for you, as a wife should, but I vow, if you don’t tell us the truth, I can never respect you again.”
Still leaning, arms crossed, against the door, Douglas added, “It looks as though you might as well tell us, old boy. You’ll not get out until you do.”
Edgerton glanced wildly around one more time. For the very first time, Lucinda saw fear in his eyes. “This is absolutely idiotic!” he cried.
Pernelia demanded, “Edgerton, did you or did you not tell a lie that day when you said you saw Gregory lead Marianne into the woods?’
Seeming to realize there was no escape, Edgerton regained control of himself, although he still was perspiring profusely. “I can see nothing wrong in what I did. I was, after all, only twelve years old.”
“Just tell us,” Pernelia stated resignedly.
“If you wish, Mama.” Edgerton gave a casual shrug that fooled no one. He opened his mouth to speak but had to clear his throat. He tried to speak again—and had to clear his throat again. Only on his third attempt, did he finally begin. “It was late in the afternoon.”
“You mean the day of the Christmas party?”
“Yes, yes,” Edgerton answered impatiently. “It was after the feast when the adults were sitting around talking and the children were searching for something to do. Sarah, Marianne, and I were restless and bored. We decided to play a game of hide-and-seek, but where to hide? Suddenly I remembered the attic. I had never been up there. It had always been forbidden, whenever we came visiting, but I thought what a lark it would be if I could somehow get the key and we could play up there.”
The Selfless Sister Page 23
