by Aileen Fish
In the courtyard off the servant’s entrance, a man sat waiting on a horse. One groom stood nearby with a lantern, and another held the reins of two more horses. David and his brother mounted. “We can talk more when we stop to change horses. There’s no time to waste.”
~*~
Daylight had come and gone again by the time they arrived in Windsor. The messenger took their horses to the stables while David and Knightwick entered the White Harte Hotel. Upon enquiring as to the location of Northcotte’s room, they were led to a small suite on the second floor. David rapped on the door and barged in when it opened. “How is she?”
Northcotte looked quite pale and disheveled, and fidgeted with the bottom button on his waistcoat, his voice rough when he spoke. “She sleeps, still. The doctor says if she wakes, it will mean she most likely will recover. Until then, we wait.”
“May I see her?”
“Of course.” Northcotte led David to a closed door. Knightwick took a seat in the main room to wait.
David stepped into the dark, quiet chamber. Lady Joanna’s maid sat in a chair near the bed. She rose and crossed to the dressing area and made herself busy there. A lamp burned with a low flame on the table beside the bed, throwing flickering light on Joanna’s face. The shadows beneath her eyes had a pink tinge, and her lips were almost as white as the pillow she rested her head upon.
He reached a hand out to brush a stray curl off her face, but caught himself in time, remembering the maid’s presence. The fact that Northcotte waited in the outer room spoke volumes about his trust in David. Did he know Joanna had turned down David’s offer? Her brother had let her attend the race meeting, so perhaps he thought them engaged.
Or perhaps Northcotte had paid off Sir Frederick, and he no longer felt the desperate need for her to marry. As much as David wanted her for himself, knowing he’d had the power to save her from marrying that man gave him some small relief from the guilt he carried over what he’d put her through. Even stronger than the guilt was the knowledge he was powerless to save her now.
Joanna’s brows drew together and her lips parted. Her head thrashed one way, then the other, and her hand pressed against her stomach as she moaned.
No longer caring that her maid might be watching, he ran his fingertips over her cool cheek. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Rest, dearest. You must get well.”
He reached for the cloth draped over the edge of a bowl on the table. Dunking the cloth and wringing it, he patted her forehead and the sides of her face. She was not feverish, but she seemed to calm under his attentions. If he found out who did this to her, he would kill that man with his own hands. She must recover, so he could beg her forgiveness and plead with her to marry him. He couldn’t live without her.
“Come back to me.”
She sighed. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. He prayed she heard him.
He turned and left her bedchamber.
Knightwick and Northcotte sat discussing the incident. Northcotte imparted the details of the morning at Ascot Heath. “She was in the stall with Patriot. I’ve tried to keep her out of the stables, even before Bruce was killed, but she slips away from her maid, or my mother. I cannot keep her safe.” He shook his head, wrapping his hand around the back of his neck and looking at the floor.
“She is headstrong,” David agreed. “But perhaps that quality will see her through this. How did she become ill?”
“Patriot’s groom said she watched him while he brushed Patriot and cleaned his hooves after the race. Outside his stall were some oatcakes wrapped in a cloth that an old woman had given him earlier. Joanna mentioned being hungry, and the groom offered her some.”
Northcotte rose and began to pace. “During the night, my sister awoke complaining of stomach pains. She vomited for several hours, and eventually fell back asleep. Her maid tended to her, expecting her to wake in the morning feeling better. But she would not waken.”
“Do you suspect there was something in the oatcakes?” David asked.
“The groom took ill that night also, but he recovered the next morning. He only ate one cake, and he believes Joanna had at least two. I’ve no idea what was in them. The groom didn’t know the woman who gave them to him. He just assumed she was a villager with a generous heart.”
“If he recovered so quickly, there is a good change she will, too.” Knightwick looked at David as he said this, his voice reassuring.
“What does the doctor say?”
Northcotte stopped and looked toward the closed door where his sister lay. “He says she is strong and healthy, and should recover. He doesn’t understand why she still sleeps, though. I fear—” He didn’t finish the thought.
David nodded. “Someone intended to kill your groom. Why? You have other men who can ride Patriot. Why not kill the horse, if the idea was to keep him from competing?”
“I don’t know. I thought Patriot might have been his original target, until I spoke with the groom. As it was, I ordered the stallion be returned to Hampshire immediately, to be safe. If my sister recovers, it would kill her to learn her horse was dead.”
His chest tightening, David snapped at his choice of words. “She will recover. We have to believe it. We can’t do anything to help her at this point. Except find the man who did this.”
“And let the magistrate deal with him,” Knightwick warned.
David met his brother’s glare, returning it with all the anger and frustration burning within. “I can’t guarantee what I’ll do when I find him.”
Knightwick’s lips thinned, but he didn’t comment. He turned to Northcotte. “Have you attempted to locate the old woman?”
“I’ve had all my men question everyone they meet, as well as inquiring at the pubs. There are a few women who sell cakes and meat pies on the street. The groom hasn’t recognized any of them.”
“If Sir Frederick is behind it,” David said, “you can wager she has been removed to another shire.”
“Why do you assume he did it?” his brother asked.
“I assume you repaid your debt after I bought Patriot.” David said to Northcotte. “Within a matter of days, someone attempts to keep your horse from running. I’ve met Sir Frederick, spoken with him when Joanna was there. I don’t think it’s money that drives him. He seems to thrive on holding the vowels of men who are above him in society.”
“True,” said Knightwick. “He is known to prefer loaning money to titled men. One might suggest they have a greater income with which to repay him, but their money is usually entailed. Any funds at their disposal have obviously been depleted by the time they come to him. He knows he cannot claim the title to the encumbered properties, so why does he accept their IOUs at all?”
Northcotte pursed his lips. “He has accepted thoroughbreds as collateral. He frequents the race meetings, and is well known by many of those who have entered runners. Why would he want to loan money against these horses, when he could afford to buy them outright?”
David crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you have sold Patriot, had he asked?”
“Of course not. Aside from finally having a runner who could bring my stud back to profitability, Joanna loves that horse above all the others.”
Now David took up pacing to help him think. “Aside from finding the old woman, how can we prove who is behind this?”
A knock on the door interrupted David’s thoughts. Northcotte crossed the room and opened the door. Allowing the man to step inside, he introduced him to the others. “Lord Knightwick, Mr. Lumley, this is Mr. Grimford, who is working with the local magistrate to solve this.”
The portly man took off his hat and nodded. “My lords, I bring news rather than answers. This morning a groom was found unconscious in the stables. He’d been hit with a shovel on the back of his head. He’ll survive, but he didn’t see his attacker.”
“Who does the groom work for?”
“Lord Apperly.”
Knightwick shook his head. “I don’t know the man.
How many horses had he entered?”
“Just the one, my lord.”
Looking at his brother, Knightwick commented, “And if that horse doesn’t run, he has no chance of winning, no chance at the purse.” Speaking to the investigator, he said, “Find out if Apperly owes money to Sir Frederick Ardwen. He might try to deny borrowing from a moneylender, but we have reason to think that man is the connection between several ‘accidents’ at race meetings in recent years.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll look into it.” Grimford paused as he turned to leave. “How fares Lady Joanna? Is she recovering?”
“It’s too soon to tell.” Northcotte opened the door for the man. “The doctor believes she has a chance, though.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, my lord. She’s too bonny a lass to die like this.”
David shuddered, then quickly schooled his thoughts to a positive outlook. Joanna would get better. He considered the series of poisonings and injuries at the meetings to distract himself. One thing concerned him about the idea Sir Frederick was behind Zephyr’s death. “To your knowledge,” he asked his brother, “Did Father ever borrow money?”
“No, he’s never needed to. When he took to his rooms and I began helping run the estates, all the books were in order, our finances were what I expected to find.”
“Then Sir Frederick had no reason to cause problems for Bridgethorpe or Fernleigh Stud. Why would he want Zephyr dead?” Pacing the length of the carpet, David tried to connect the incidents. “I asked Father if he had any connection with the man, and he said no. What would Sir Frederick have to gain by Zephyr’s death?”
Northcotte sat with them again. “We know my father was borrowing from the man at the time Zephyr died. Sir Frederick probably knew he stood no chance of being repaid as long as your horse kept winning.”
It didn’t make sense to David. “There were plenty of race meetings where Zephyr was not entered. Why didn’t your father enter some of those? He had some good runners. He would have won some decent purses. Or he could have challenged for some matches outside the meetings. Bridgethorpe said he did that often when they were young.”
“I believe it was personal by then. I don’t know why he singled out Bridgethorpe, but my father was obsessed with beating him.”
From the doorway to Joanna’s room came the maid’s voice. “My lord, my lady is awake.”
David and Northcotte ran to her bedside. Joanna moved about, turning her head from side to side. She mumbled something unintelligible. Reaching her first, David put a hand on her shoulder. “Shhh, it’s all right. Do you hear me?”
Her movements quieted, but her eyes didn’t open. “Hurts.”
“What hurts? What can I do for you?” David pushed her hair back off her face, his heart clenching at the shadows beneath her eyes.
“Everything hurts.”
David looked at the maid. “Did the doctor leave some powders for her?”
“Yes, sir. They’re over here, sir.”
“Prepare a glass for her, then.” He put his arm around her and helped her sit, her eyelids fluttering as she groaned.
“Mr. Lumley? Why are you here? Robert, what is this about? Why are you both in my room?”
“All is well now, Joanna,” Northcotte said. “You’ve been ill. We’ve been worried.”
The maid returned with the glass and gave it to Joanna, who drank it, her face twisting in distaste. “Oh, that is horrid. What are you giving me?”
David smiled. “Something the doctor left for you. I hope it will ease your pain.”
She leaned heavily against David’s arm, and he let her rest on the pillow. She sighed and her eyes closed.
“Do you want to sleep?” he asked.
“I am hungry.”
David asked the maid to fetch some soup, or something easy to eat. “I will let the doctor know you’ve awakened.”
Knightwick spoke from the doorway. “I’ll see to it.”
David nodded in thanks. “May I bring in another chair and keep her company?” he asked Northcotte.
“Joanna, would you like some company for a short spell?”
She licked her lips and offered a small smile. “Yes.”
Northcotte returned to the sitting room while David carried in a chair. As soon as he sat near the bed, David took a moment to say a prayer of thanks. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear your voice.”
“Why are you here? I’m sorry, that sounds ill mannered of me. Did you enter Triton in one of the sweepstakes at Ascot Heath?”
He leaned his elbows on his knees, so relieved she was willing to speak with him, he didn’t care how rude she might be. “No. Your brother sent word you were ill, and asked our assistance in finding who did this to you. But I would have come without his request.”
“Who did what to me? Why do I hurt so? Was I attacked?”
“No. There must have been something put in the oatcakes you and the groom ate, as you both took ill after eating them.”
“Is the boy recovered?”
“He is well. He didn’t eat as many cakes as you.”
She closed her eyes, sinking more deeply into the pillow. “Thank goodness. He is a kind lad, very good with Patriot.”
“Do you wish to rest? I don’t want to overtire you.”
“I wish to eat most of all. I am starving.”
He chuckled. “Something will be brought up soon. This sort of establishment must be used to offering meals at odd hours.”
“Mr. Lumley, thank you for coming to see me.”
“I should think you might call me David by now.”
Her eyes blinked open. “But we—that is, I didn’t…”
“I am aware you did not accept my proposal. We can discuss that when you are well.” He cleared his throat. “If you don’t wish to renew our acquaintance, I’ll respect that. But I’ll find who did this to you. His deed won’t go unpunished.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
A week later, Joanna and Robert were at home in Eaton Place, their lives seemingly normal again. Robert spent his time in his office, or away from the town house. Joanna sat in her room reading or writing letters to her friends in Hampton. She had no strength, no desire to go out for a walk or a ride. For the first time in her life, resting was the only thing that appealed to her.
Resting, however, gave her too much time to think about how foolish she was to have trusted Mr. Lumley. Her heart continued to ache, and an emptiness had taken up residence inside her where happiness should reside. She loved him, or her affections had begun to turn to love. She might always love him, keeping her from considering another man as husband. Being able to trust again would be difficult, that she knew. How did one tell the difference between true love and a false imitation of it?
On the eighth day, when Starley came to tell her Amelia was calling, she allowed her friend to come in. Not wishing to appear the invalid by remaining in her room, Joanna met her in the morning room. “How happy I am to see you again.”
Amelia returned her hug. “I’ve missed you terribly. There have been so many times in the past two weeks where I’ve turned to tell you something at an assembly only to remember you aren’t there.”
“Tell me now. Who is dancing with whom? Have any betrothals been announced? Has Sir Richard made his feelings plain?”
“I believe he is close. He left Town for a few days but said he’d call on me when he returns. I’m so excited, I can’t sit still.” She suddenly sobered. “What of you? Has your brother said anything more about Sir Frederick?”
“No. I don’t know whether he’s afraid to start another row with me, or if he believes I’ve an understanding with Mr. Lumley.”
Amelia shook her head. “I still don’t understand how you came to turn him down. You were so excited about his attentions.”
Joanna couldn’t reveal the whole tale, even to her dear friend. She was ashamed on some level, both that her family could have been i
nvolved in the scandals Mr. Lumley had accused them of, and that she had fallen in love with a man who would abuse her friendship the way he had. “I couldn’t accept him once I learned the kind of man he is. He never loved me.”
“I saw how he looked at you. Even Sir Richard doesn’t gaze at me that way. My cousin and her husband spent hours staring into each other’s eyes like that before she married, and they are happy still, four years later.”
“Your cousin’s husband didn’t gain her affections under false pretenses.” Pain still stabbed at her heart when she recalled his words in her brother’s study. “Please, can we not discuss it anymore?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to distress you. What will you do now that the Season is ending?”
“My aunt has agreed to let me stay in Bath. Northcotte hasn’t given me permission yet, but I am still recovering from my illness. The waters there will be good for me.”
“My offer still stands for you to visit us.”
“Won’t you be planning your wedding?”
Amelia shrugged. “If I am, you can help me decide between roses and lilies for my bouquet.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, dear, will that be too difficult for you, with all that has happened? I am the worst of friends to not think of you.”
Joanna patted her hand. “You are my dearest friend. Your happiness makes me happy. Even if I don’t visit over the summer, I expect an invitation to your wedding.”
Starley cleared his throat from just inside the room. “Lady Hannah Lumley wishes to know if you are receiving callers.”
Joy filled Joanna. “Yes, show her in, please.”
Lady Hannah and her maid entered with the decorum due the finest of houses, then Lady Hannah rushed forward to grab Joanna’s hand. “I was so worried when I heard. Are you quite recovered?”
“I am, thank you. Please join us. I’ll send for tea.” After doing so, Joanna returned to her seat on the chaise near the fireplace. The days grew warmer, but she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the chill that invaded her bones. “When did you return to Town?”
