“No, of course he can,” Sabrina said uncertainly. “And you mustn’t travel before you’re quite well.”
“At least not before the doctor says it’s safe,” Perce amended, “but as soon as you can, Katy. Now, Sergei, you have your own papers and money. Do you have enough?”
“There’s money in William’s strongbox and all my jewels,” Sabrina said. “You use what you need, Katy.”
“Good. I have more than enough for Sabrina and myself,” Perce said approvingly. “Sergei, go into the kitchen and put together enough food for a couple of days. We probably won’t need it, but just in case things go wrong and we have to spend a night on the road, I don’t want to starve. Brina, get traveling clothes on, and take a heavy cloak and a couple of blankets. I’ll walk down to the stable again and get a pair of horses saddled. And Brina, if you hear anyone coming, go out the back door and hide. I’ll find you.”
The man Perce had seen pounding on the door in Lousa was not of course, a traveler seeking a bed. It was Dom José, and he was trying to wake the regador, not an innkeeper. Before Perce had turned off on the road that led to La Casa des Ermidas and the dower house, Dom José had gained entrance and had begun to tell his story. Needless to say, the tale was received with considerable shock, and Dom José had to repeat it more than once. Since his excitement and frustration increased in proportion to what he considered the stupidity of his auditor, it was more than half an hour before the regador, Senhor de Sousa, was able to take in what he said. More time elapsed as two of the town’s guards were summoned. Lousa was a quiet town, and there was no reason to keep men on duty at night.
Dom José fretted and fumed making the regador look sideways at him. There were aspects of Dom José’s story that stuck in his throat. One peculiarity he simply could not imagine was a woman invading someone else’s house to do what Dom José had said. In the second place, he had met Sabrina, and nothing in her manner or appearance prepared him for the raging virago of Dom José’s story. A third consideration was the use of the guns. Most women hated and feared firearms and would not touch them. Last and most puzzling of all was the blockading of the bedroom and the escape through the window. Surely a murderess would have left the chamber in a more facile manner. Strange was not a strong enough word for that!
During the ride out of town the regador had little chance to think over the problem, because he was engaged in insisting that he would first go to des Ermidas to examine the dead. Dom José objected to this, arguing that he should first secure Lady Elvan and confront her with those she had slain. If he did not, Dom José insisted, she would escape.
“To where?” the regador asked. “Where could a woman go all alone in the middle of the night? Did you not say her servants were trying to calm her? If they believed her hysterical, would they agree to rush away from the house at this hour?”
“She is a sly, clever woman,” Dom José replied desperately. “Who knows what she could have told them.”
“She does not seem to have acted with either slyness or cleverness,” the regador responded dryly. “Perhaps to break in and shoot them is possible, but what would stop her from instantly running down the stairs—she knew where they were already—and out the way she came? Why should she barricade the door? And to cut the drapes and tie them? That could not be the work of a few minutes.”
“How do I know what a madwoman will do?”
“I hesitate to add to your grief,” de Sousa interrupted quickly, but his voice was gentle. “Could Donna Francisca have had…er…another…ah…friend? One who became jealous over Lord Elvan’s attentions?”
“No! No! Impossible!” Dom José shouted, startling the horses.
The regador made a noncommittal, soothing remark, but Dom José continued to insist frantically that Francisca had been a good woman, seduced by Lord Elvan. He could not afford the introduction of the idea of a second lover. Although he did not mention it to the regador, he knew such a person would certainly have no reason to involve Lady Elvan or to hurt her servants. Although Senhor de Sousa interjected soothing noises from time to time, the tone and manner in which Dom José spoke was definitely disturbing him.
He was about to urge again that Dom José try to compose himself, when the sound of a swiftly moving horse warned them of someone coming down the road. The men set up a shout of warning so that the rider coming down the hill would have time to slow his horse. Dom José snarled viciously to Senhor de Sousa that it was Lady Elvan escaping, and perhaps in the future he would be believed more readily when he spoke. The regador did not reply, but when the rider appeared and was quite apparently a man, he made it obvious that he was not looking at Dom José.
A few questions extracted all the facts. The man was a groom from the dower house. His lady had come to the stable with a tall, blond companion and told the grooms that there had been an accident. Her maid had broken her leg. Yes, his lady certainly looked as if there had been had trouble. Her dress was dirty and torn and her face all bruised. He had been sent to summon the doctor as quickly as possible. The regador waved the groom on, urging him to hurry but not so fast that he did not arrive. Finally he turned to Dom José.
“I think now that you were right,” he said. “We had better stop at the dower house first. If Lady Elvan and her maid were hurt, this may be the work of bandits, or other intruders. Do you know who this tall, blond companion could be?”
Dom José shook his head. He was stricken dumb by this double disaster. If Lady Elvan was calmly sending for a doctor rather than running away or hiding, and the maid was alive, he was finished. What can I do? Dom José wondered desperately.
“Perhaps I have been a fool from the beginning,” Dom José said in a choked voice. “Perhaps there was another or more than one. If so, the servants may have known of it. I will go up to the house and question them. You will come there as soon as you are finished at the dower house?”
The regador was pleased by Dom José’s acceptance of his logic. A crazed lover could have tried to attack Lord Elvan at home and, when he found he was not there, have gone on to La Casa des Ermidas and killed his unfaithful mistress and her lover there. Of course the blocked door and the rope from the window were still puzzling, but at least Dom José was no longer trying to blame Lady Evan. Ladies wept when they learned of a husband’s infidelity—or smiled—but they did not break into people’s houses and shoot the offenders.
It never occurred to the regador to suspect Dom José. If Dom José had shot his wife and her lover, there would be no need to lie about it. No one would blame him. The priest would absolve him with a minor penance, and the civil court would declare justifiable homicide in a private session. Thus, Senhor de Sousa agreed instantly with Dom Jose’s suggestion and with considerable relief watched him ride away.
Questioning the servants would keep Dom José occupied and might ease his anguish. Meanwhile perhaps the identity of the attacker or a description of him, could be obtained from the servants or Lady Elvan. It would also be necessary to inform the poor lady of her erring husband’s fate. Now it would be possible to give her the sad news with decency and sympathy. And if the blond stranger were a countryman, perhaps even a relative of Lady Elvan’s, he would be able to assist her. That would take a great weight off Senhor de Sousa’s mind and conscience. Sure that Dom José was well ahead and would not complicate the distressing revelation he must make at the dower house, Senhor do Sousa increased his horse’s pace.
Chapter Nineteen
Dom José drove his horse up the road as fast as he could. He would have to escape. Escape to where? To what? For what? The last question was the bitterest of all. His life had had many goals—to please his father, to run his business so that he would be both respected and rich, to found a noble line. Now all were gone. A whole lifetime destroyed by a lecherous woman and a man he could not describe in words sufficiently filthy and degrading. They were dead and beyond his reach. He cursed himself for the speed and directness of h
is actions, not for the outcome. They should have suffered for what they had done.
The thought hammered and hammered in his head with the beat of his horse’s hooves. Then he saw the dim lights around the curtains in two windows of the dower house. Again the boil of hatred swelled, and pain lanced through him. It was her fault as much as her husband’s. “What could I do?” she had whined. She could have fought him, complained. If she had not made excuses for him, smiling so pleasantly at him when they were together, perhaps warning would have come in time to prevent a consummation. She was as guilty as the other two, and she would get off unscathed, wrapped in sympathy and concern.
No, she would not! Oh, no, she would not. Dom José knew he was ruined in any case. He would not be deprived of the last flicker of his revenge. But how to achieve it? As soon as the regador heard Lady Elvan’s story, he would come to des Ermidas. Whether or not he believed her, de Sousa would have to take care that all persons who might be connected with the shootings remained within his reach until the matter was thrashed out. But would he leave a guard at the dower house? Perhaps not, definitely not if he believed Lady Elvan’s tale. And the blond visitor? Dom José shrugged. Some fool of a diplomat, no doubt. He could be dealt with.
In his mind Dom José reviewed the servants who would obey him unquestioningly even if what he demanded seemed wrong. Pablo and Manuelo were at the house already and could be picked up there. The coachman, Carlo, and the coach guard, Pedro, would also do as he told them. With him, that would make five. Dom José smiled viciously. Even if the regador had left one man, they could overpower him and get that conniving bitch out of the house. He felt quite pleased as he rode up to the stable of des Ermidas. He would have his revenge. After that—who cared!
Perce heard Dom José’s horse as he neared the stable. He held his breath, but the sound continued without hesitation past the short drive of the dower house and diminished on the long curve that continued up to La Casa des Ermidas. As soon as he was sure the noise would not reach the rider, Perce called the grooms. They responded at once, not yet having gone back to bed, and two fresh horses were saddled very quickly, but not quickly enough. Before they were quite ready, the regador’s party was heard on the road.
Praying that whoever had gone by would go on up to the big house, Perce led the horses out and paused to listen when the party had passed. He could not hear them, and that was not good. If they had gone on up the road, he should still be able to hear something. Cursing fluently if silently in several languages, Perce went slowly toward the house, keeping in the shadows along the side of the road. At the turn into the drive, he stopped. They were there, and one man was holding the three horses outside.
A quick look at the ground told Perce he would never get the horses around to the back except across the lawn. The ground on which the dower house stood had either been cut out of the mountain or built up to make it level. The stable was down a very steep drop. He led the horses back a little way and then across the road into the wooded area where he was able to conceal them.
To make his own way along the shadowed edge of the lawn was not difficult. Obviously the guard who remained outside was not watching for anything; he was just holding the horses. Perce did not worry about his casual assurance to Sabrina that he would find her until he almost ran into her. It was a lot darker, even in this lightly wooded area, than it had been on the lawn and on the road. They clutched at each other, teetering uncertainly on the uneven ground.
“The horses are across the road,” Perce murmured into Sabrina’s ear. “And there’s a man out in front of the house.”
Sabrina nodded without speaking and drew him back along the way she had come. Her eyes were on her feet, picking out the path, and she was ridiculously, shamefully happy. Ever since Sergei’s crazy announcement, she had been bubbling over with joy and laughter. She knew it was indecent to feel this way when poor William was lying dead, murdered only a few hours earlier, but she could not help it. She did not notice a darker shadow move suddenly to the side and blend into those cast by trees and bushes.
The telltale movement escaped Perce’s attention, too. He was watching the way the small patches of moonlight that came between the leaves gleamed on Sabrina’s silver-gilt hair. Rightfully, Perce knew he should be worried sick. He should be seriously concerned about this wild plan to evade a legal investigation. What Sabrina had said was true. Running away would certainly increase the chance that the regador would presume her guilty without investigating. The truth was that Perce did not care what the regador presumed. If he could get Sabrina to Lisbon and aboard that naval cutter, they could make any assumptions they wanted in Portugal. Brina would be safe—and his.
Every time he remembered that Elvan was dead, his heart leapt. No annulment. No divorce. Not only could he have Brina, but he could go into the diplomatic service as he had intended originally and she would have the life she loved. He almost hoped the regador would assume Sabrina was guilty and let Dom José get away with it. Of course it was dreadful that he had killed Charlot and hurt Katy, but that was temporary insanity. The man had done him and Sabrina, too, an enormous favor. If he could get Brina away safely, Perce would gladly call it quits with Dom José.
Pablo cursed silently. He had missed his chance. This time the lady would escape, but there was nothing he could do about it. She had come out with the big dark man who had held Manuelo prisoner with as little effort as if he were holding a small child. Pablo had no intention of engaging in a physical contest with him. He had tried to get at the woman when the big man went back into the house, but first the horsemen had arrived and then the blond man had come. Pablo did not intend to challenge him, either, not after he had seen him fell Manuelo with a single blow.
He watched as Sabrina led Perce to a pile of equipment. She took her cloak, one blanket, and a long coil of rope. Perce pointed at it, and Sabrina raised her hands in mute puzzlement, murmuring, “Sergei.” Perce shrugged, but he had considerable respect for Sergei’s survival instincts. He merely picked up the food bag, grunting with surprise at how heavy it was, the other blanket, and another small bag, which presumably held a change of clothing and other necessities for Sabrina. Then they retraced their steps.
Pablo followed, far enough back so that they would not hear him if he took a misstep. This made his quarry barely visible. Several times they did disappear. Then Pablo hurried, all his attention on finding them without allowing them to notice him. He did not wish whatever had happened to Manuelo to happen to him. Thus, he did not notice that there was a man holding the three horses that had arrived until his quarry had turned into the main road. When he saw the horse holder, his mouth opened, then shut. It was Dom José he must tell that the lady was escaping, but if this was a guard, his master must be in the house.
Pablo stepped boldly out of the trees and walked along the lawn to hail the guard. “Is Dom José within?” he asked.
“No, he rode back to La Casa des Ermidas,” the guard answered.
Pablo stopped, again on the horns of a dilemma. If he ran up to the main house, the lady would have more time to escape. If he told the regador’s guard that she was out of the house, there would be a better chance to take her, but that might not be what his master wanted. One good thing, she and the man had been on foot probably headed for the stables. Pablo decided he could climb the path and tell Dom José what had happened in just about the same time it would take to saddle and load the horses. There was only one road down the mountain. There could be no doubt where they would go. His master could overtake them if he wished. Pablo waved at the guard and ran toward the path behind the house.
Meanwhile, Perce and Sabrina had reached the horses, loaded them, and mounted. They made their way diagonally toward the road so that they would come out as far as possible from the dower house drive. It would have been better if they had been able to ride through the woods, but that was impossible because there was another very sharp drop-off. The actual distance
gained was not much, but it seemed to be enough since there were no sounds of alarm or of pursuit.
Just as they came out into the open, a man’s voice called aloud. Sabrina lifted her quirt, but Perce shook his head and kept to a walk at the very side of the road where the dust was thickest. No second cry followed the first and they went on down toward Lousa for about ten minutes in almost complete silence. It wasn’t until they were well on their way and Perce realized they couldn’t stay in Lousa or in any nearby inn that he began to regret what he had done. Brina must be totally exhausted. How much longer could she ride?
“Are you unbearably tired, Brina?” he asked softly.
Her head turned toward him alertly. “No, I’m not.” She laughed quietly. “I know I should be, but I’m not. Do you think we’ve got away? I suppose when the excitement wears off I’ll fall flat on my face and notice all my black-and-blue marks, but now I’m fine.”
“Maybe, but I’m not sure we shouldn’t go back, not because of the legalities but—but I must have been crazy! You can’t sleep out in the woods.”
“Why not?” she asked, laughing again. “I did it often enough when I was a child. Do you think I’ve gotten so decrepit that I’ll melt in the rain? Besides, it won’t rain and it will be warm enough because we’ll sleep during the day. Anyhow, I don’t want to go back. Oh, Perce, I know it’s wrong, but I’m quite dreadfully happy. I want to escape.”
He turned his head to look at her fully. The moon was very low, nearly ready to set, and it shone directly into her face. Perce’s breath caught. Her hair was a rat’s nest and her face was bruised and filthy, streaked with dirt and tears, but he had never seen her look more beautiful. Her pale eyes were brilliant, and her skin seemed translucent, glowing from within instead of lit from outside. But Perce had neither a chance to tell her that nor to answer her remarks. Both flew out of his head as he heard a faint thunder behind them.
The Kent Heiress Page 35
