by Brenda Novak
She started to slip past, but Mrs. Tate caught her arm. “There’s one more thing.”
Rachel waited.
“I can’t tell ye who did this. Like I said, I didn’t find it until the followin’ mornin’. But Rulon, my oldest, mentioned something curious to me.”
“Curious?”
“Involving the earl’s cousin and Jonas Cutberth. You know Jonas—”
“I do,” she said, although she wished she didn’t. He could’ve stood up for her, could’ve minimized the negative reaction that had essentially expelled her from her home, from all of Creswell. Instead, he’d treated her with as much disdain as anyone else, acted as if she’d never done anything for the miners or their cause. “What was so curious?”
“He thinks they’re up to something… secretive, says they’ve been acting strange of late.”
The edges of the books cut into her bicep, she gripped them so tightly. “In what way?”
“They’re always having private conversations, he said, ones where they clam up as soon as they realize someone else is around.”
What could that be about?
Rachel had no idea, but this was further proof that she should be leary of Cutberth. “Thank you,” she said, her smile tight, and stepped out.
Elspeth refused to see Rachel, refused to so much as accept her letter. Rachel was so shocked that she could only gape at the girl who came to the small antechamber at the back door to give her word. She might’ve expected such a snub from any of the other villagers, but Elspeth? How could Elspeth judge her?
“Did she say why?” she asked as she stared at the envelope that had been thrust back into her hands.
The girl wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. “I’m afraid she’s very busy.”
“But I said I’d wait—or return at a more convenient time.”
“She doesn’t want ye to wait. And she doesn’t want ye to come back. She doesn’t want ye ’ere at all.”
“But if she’d only read my letter—”
“I told ye. She doesn’t want that either.”
“I see.” It couldn’t have been stated more clearly. Elspeth had joined the rest of Creswell and turned her back on Rachel.
With a nod, Rachel lit her lamp before recovering the ledgers she’d set aside.
Although impatient for her to be gone, the girl waited to see her off and, after glancing over one shoulder as if she feared someone might come upon them from inside the house at that moment, shoved another note into her hand.
“What’s—” Rachel started, but the girl pressed a finger to her lips to indicate silence and opened the door for her to go.
Obviously, Rachel was to leave without a second’s delay—and without another word.
Slipping the note into her pocket, she hugged the books against her body to help ward off the cold and started the long trek back.
She walked for at least a mile and didn’t stop until she felt quite alone on the deserted road. Then she put down the lamp and the ledgers, opened the sealed envelope and read Elspeth’s hastily scrawled message.
I do not have the answers you seek. Please stay away.
Elspeth wouldn’t have been able to write a single word of that if Rachel hadn’t taught her how. And now Elspeth was treating her like a pariah? It hardly seemed fair. But the fact that the town Madame, who had acted so knowledgeable and self-assured during Rachel’s last visit, was now frightened told Rachel something had shifted since she’d gone to Blackmoor Hall. Elspeth felt threatened, or felt as if she would be threatened if it became known that she’d had any contact with Rachel.
Why? And of whom was Elspeth frightened?
A loud rumble caused her to scramble to retrieve what she’d left in the middle of the road. Fearing she might meet up with a dangerous stranger—or, worse, Wythe—she was about to duck into the woods. But when she looked behind, she saw that it was a fancy coach, no doubt the earl’s, and simply stepped aside so she wouldn’t be run down.
When the driver didn’t slow the horses, Rachel assumed that Lord Druridge hadn’t noticed her. Or, if he had seen her light, he didn’t recognize who was carrying it. As the conveyance disappeared around the bend ahead, she almost wished she had made some attempt to gain his lordship’s attention. The books were growing heavy; she was cold and had miles yet to walk.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to regret her lack of action for very long. It was only a moment later when she heard the driver call out and could tell from the noise that he was bringing the carriage to a halt.
Lord Druridge opened the door as soon as she came around the bend. “Rachel? Is that you?”
“Aye, my lord.” Relieved to have trusted company, she hurried to catch up.
“What are you doing out here alone? You must know it isn’t safe.”
Harnesses jingling, the horses stamped the ground. The driver seemed just as eager to continue. No doubt he was cold. But he said nothing.
“I had errands in the village, my lord.” She didn’t need to see Lord Druridge’s face clearly to know he was scowling.
“I don’t like the idea of you going to Creswell during the day, much less at night. Especially alone. Why didn’t you alert me to your need?”
Because she hadn’t been sure how much she wanted to tell him about the ledgers and Elspeth. Neither provided a great deal of hope, and yet… there were odd inconsistencies. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”
“I could’ve at least provided you with a horse. Get in, out of the cold.”
At this, the driver scrambled down, took the ledgers and blew out her lantern for her while the earl extended his hand to help her up.
“You needed… books?” he asked when the driver handed them inside.
“They are the ledgers for the bookshop.”
The conveyance swayed as Timothy climbed up and clucked to the horses. Then they jerked forward.
“Are you very disappointed about losing the shop?” the earl asked when they were underway.
“I am disappointed. But I don’t blame you for what happened. There have been a lot of forces at play.” Ironically enough with the exception of Mrs.Tate and possibly Mary, the earl had proven himself to be her only friend. “I’m grateful for how you have helped Geordie. He is better off than before.”
“I wish the same could be said for you,” he muttered. “I would offer to buy the business, Rachel, to hire you to run the bookshop for me, but I fear you will not be safe working in Creswell.”
The possibility of returning to the familiar made her want to argue that she’d be fine. What if she could reclaim her independence? Managing the bookshop would be comfortable, and it would put an end to the constant temptation she faced when she was in such close proximity to him.
But she knew, after how she’d been received at Elspeth’s, he was right. The miners were not ready to forgive her and would not welcome her back just yet—if ever.
So what was to become of her? She couldn’t stay at Blackmoor Hall forever. As soon as the earl married, maybe even before, she would have to find a new home.
“I can’t go back.” She smiled when she said this, but it wasn’t easy. The betrayal of the villagers stung, especially after how she’d tried to help them.
“What would you like to do with the inventory?” he asked. “I have had the place locked up, but I am not sure there is any point in letting it sit forever. I can’t say when the climate in Creswell might change.”
She could see the gleam of his eyes beneath his top hat. He was watching her as closely as he could in the dark. But she was grateful he couldn’t see everything—like the tears that suddenly welled up. “There’s not much inventory left, at least inventory that hasn’t been destroyed.”
He leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”
A lone tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it for fear he’d notice. When she’d left the house, she’d surveyed the damage at the shop. “Someone broke a window, went in and spoiled everyth
ing. They broke open the door and did the same at my house.”
Reaching across the distance between them, he clasped her gloved hands in his. “I’m sorry.”
“It seems like everything has changed since my mother died. Those I called friends are now enemies. And those I called enemies…”
“Are now friends,” he finished. “That is true. I will do all I can to figure out who is responsible for the damage and bring them to justice.”
If she told him what she knew, she’d be taking yet another step away from her past, away from the person she used to be, and well she knew it. But that former Rachel seemed to be long gone anyway. If he was her friend, she was also his. “I think whoever it was might have had something to do with the fire, my lord.”
“Because… ?”
“I believe I know what they were after.”
“What?”
She felt his hands tighten on hers and wanted to remove her gloves so she could touch him, really touch him as she had when he brought the ointment. But she dared not be so forward.
Withdrawing instead, she lifted the ledgers she’d placed on the seat beside her and set them in his lap. “These.”
“What are you saying?”
His manner reminded her of the earl as she used to view him. Haughty. Austere. But she knew it was the depth of his passion for this subject that put such an edge to his voice and she was no longer put off by that passion. “You have questioned my mother’s finances.”
“Yes.”
“These ledgers prove the bookshop was not making enough of a profit to support us and hadn’t for some time.”
“So there had to be money coming in from somewhere else.”
“There was a payment each month that is currently unaccounted for.” She didn’t want to believe her mother had any culpability in Katherine’s murder, even if that culpability extended only so far as helping to cover it up, but she had to acknowledge the possibility. Considering the way Jillian had felt about Lord Druridge, she probably believed her actions were justified.
“Your mother might’ve been on the payroll of those who fired Blackmoor Hall,” he said. “But you don’t know who was paying her?”
“Although I have my suspicions, I can’t say with any certainty.”
“Whom do you suspect, dear Rachel?”
This was getting more difficult by the moment. Was she going to tell Lord Druridge about Mr. Cutberth and the union? If she brought up the clerk’s name, the rest would come out as soon as the earl took a closer look at his bookkeeper. And what if Cutberth had nothing to do with the fire and really was worried about how Lord Druridge’s efforts might interfere with meeting the miners’ demands? She didn’t want to erode what little power they’d gained. Their lives were hard enough.
But the earl was being blamed for something he didn’t do and while the possibility of catching the real culprit existed, she had to tell all she knew.
“Mr. Cutberth has shown considerable interest in your affairs, my lord.”
He straightened. “My clerk?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he was acting alone?”
“There could be others,” she conceded. “Mrs. Tate just told me that her son believes Cutberth and your cousin are involved in something together.”
“What makes him believe that?”
“He claims the two have been acting secretive.”
“That could mean nothing. That could be mine business.”
“I’m just relaying what she told me. But even if Wythe wasn’t involved, wasn’t somehow in it all along with Cutberth, I still doubt Cutberth would have acted alone. He’s very quick-witted. He wouldn’t be the type to set the fire himself.”
“From what I know of Mr. Cutberth, I would have to agree with you there.”
“I could be entirely wrong about him, my lord. I want you to understand that.”
“Then why do you suspect him?”
“He has said some things that have made me wonder.” She lowered her voice. “And this much I can be certain of: He is no friend of yours.”
The earl massaged his left hand. “He pretends to be.”
“Of course.” He’d pretended to be her friend too when he was trying to enlist her help. “You provide his paycheck.”
“I would never have taken Cutberth for a Judas.”
“He can be convincing.”
There was a slight pause. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”
“Creswell isn’t that large, my lord. I know most people, especially those associated with the mine, seeing as my father and older brother both worked there for a number of years.”
“I guess it makes sense, in one way. Cutberth would’ve known your father, would’ve been aware of his problems—that he was disgruntled and eager for revenge.”
She smoothed her skirt. “He would have, yes.”
“And if Jack were caught, a promise to care for his family might convince him to take the fall. If he escaped, he would have every reason to carry the secret to his grave.”
“I have… considered that,” she said. “As well as this: If he refused, Mr. Cutberth would know other men who might be willing to take his place.”
His breath misted in the cold air, looking like smoke in the moonlight. “Did you ever see him at your house?”
“He was a familiar figure,” she admitted. “But he didn’t come only to see my father.” She cleared her throat. Did she now also admit her own involvement? How could she not? “He was usually there to see me.”
“Mr. Cutberth is married. He wasn’t—”
“No.” Now that she’d come this far, it was all she could do not to squirm in discomfort, because there was no going back. “We… we were working together.”
“How? When? He didn’t help run the bookshop.”
“No.” Gathering her courage, she blurted out what she’d been holding back. She couldn’t point a finger at Mr. Cutberth without accepting responsibility for her own role as adversary to the earl’s best interests. “We were trying to organize the miners into a union, my lord.”
The silence that met this admission made Rachel feel as if the temperature had dropped twenty degrees.
“I see,” he said at length.
She wondered if she’d upset him. “My brother died in a cave-in,” she said softly. “My father died of miner’s lung. Surely you can understand why I might act in such a fashion.”
When he didn’t respond, she wished she hadn’t felt obligated to be quite so honest. But she couldn’t work for and against both sides and continue to look herself in the mirror.
“Is that all you’ve got to tell me?” he asked.
“Yes, except… Elspeth might know more—a lot more.”
He’d turned his head to look out at the dark night, but at this, his attention shifted to her. “I have questioned Elspeth on a number of occasions. She has assured me she knows nothing.”
“She once indicated the opposite to me, my lord, but that could’ve been mere posturing. Tonight when I tried to see her, she refused to give me an audience. She wouldn’t even accept a letter.” She handed him the note she’d written, begging Elspeth to come forward for the sake of saving an innocent man.
“You’ve become too closely associated with me.”
When she said nothing, they lapsed into silence for the duration of the ride. The reminder of their different lives and different roles had cast a pall across their time together. In the face of that, they could no longer pretend to have found common ground.
Once they arrived at the manse, Linley met them at the door.
“Hello, my lord. I trust you had a… rewarding evening.”
Lord Druridge scarcely answered. He certainly said nothing that gave away where he’d been. He’d given no indication while they were on the road either. But Rachel couldn’t help wondering. Unless he was traveling to London or somewhere else, he didn’t go out much at night. Of all the earl’s estates, Blackmoor Hall was the
most remote but seemed to be the one he preferred.
“Miss Rachel, how good to see you.”
Linley’s smile eased some of her misgivings. After what she’d revealed, the earl was treating her politely but distantly. She didn’t get the impression he was angry at her, just doing his best to cope with the stark realities of what he was up against.
She relinquished her cloak into the butler’s care because he offered to take it and she thought it would be impolite to refuse. But she was painfully aware of the fact that she had no right to be treated like a member of the gentry. That she could see Mrs. Poulson standing off to one side, watching, made her especially self-conscious.
“Goodnight, Mr. Linley.” She dipped into a curtsy for Lord Druridge. “Goodnight, my lord. I-I’m sorry if I’ve… displeased you.”
“Rachel.”
When the earl called her name, she hadn’t quite reached the stairs. “Yes?”
“I have something I want to show you.”
The imperious note was back in his voice. She welcomed it because she hated the thought that, with her confession, she might’ve lost some of his respect or his regard. “What is that, my lord?”
“You’ll see. It’s in the far wing. If you will do me the favor of accompanying me there.”
He didn’t act as if she had much of a choice. “Of course.”
The earl squeezed Linley’s shoulder. “You look spent,” he murmured. “I suggest you retire.”
“I’m afraid I’m not as young as I used to be,” the butler joked.
“Get some rest.”
There was genuine affection in this exchange, making it plain that Lord Druridge cared a great deal for Linley.
“As you wish, my lord.”
Catching Rachel’s eye, the earl gestured to the stairs. “Shall we?”
She followed him to his study, where he lit the lamp he carried with them to the farthest reaches of the manse. They entered a wing that had been closed off and passed room after room, none of which had been occupied for some time. Many weren’t even furnished. Others were draped.
