by Allison Lane
“Oh.” What a come-down for a viscount.
“Fitch discovered a number of interesting facts,” said Devall, returning to the subject. “To begin with, Barnett has heard nothing from Carey.”
“Nothing?” Jack’s surprise was clear.
“Nothing. Carey was supposed to send a report on Marianne’s condition by now. Without a diagnosis, Barnett will have to produce Marianne for examination by a court-appointed panel, so Carey’s silence has moved beyond irritating. Several men commented on his snappish behavior.”
“I wonder if Carey’s staff is searching for her so he can hide her escape.”
Devall shook his head. “I doubt it. His no-visitors policy has bothered me from the moment you mentioned it. If even family members are kept away, how does anyone know the patient’s condition? He could continue collecting fees long after the patient died or ran off.”
“That’s awful!” Marianne exclaimed.
“Agreed.” Devall’s eyes flashed. “I must look into the matter. Madness should not leave anyone at the mercy of an unscrupulous charlatan. And a stupid one at that. Not writing the diagnostic report must attract attention from Barnett and the court.”
“Unless he denies that she was ever there,” said Jack. “If the court questions his diagnosis and demands a second opinion, Carey would have to produce Marianne. I already raised a huge fuss over her admission, then left two employees trussed up in beds. Carey may decide to wash his hands of the entire business. But we can consider him later. When is the hearing scheduled? I assume it will be in London, since Barnett remains there.”
“Friday,” said Devall. “I was hoping for next week. Locking you up eliminated the need to rush, for you could no longer squander your fortune.”
“Perhaps he fears that Carey might claim my fortune when the trust reverts on grounds that he is now my custodian,” suggested Marianne.
“Then why leave you with Carey at all?” asked Devall.
“Lack of foresight. Papa always claimed that his brother never considered consequences. Barnett probably didn’t think of it until Carey failed to send his diagnosis. The new fear might be contributing to his unease.” Marianne forced calm over her voice, though the prospect of going to London turned her insides to jelly.
“There is no need to debate what Barnett thinks or what Carey might have done,” said Jack wearily. “Let’s concentrate on the case.”
“I can try to have the proceedings delayed a week on grounds that you wish to mount a defense,” offered Devall. “But I may fail, for I’ve no official standing.”
“Thank you,” said Jack. “However, we can’t count on a delay. Marianne must be ready to appear in three days.”
She stifled a moan.
Devall spotted her distress. “He’s right, Marianne. You have no choice. And court will not be the only problem. Barnett is busy shredding your character to society.”
“How?” asked Jack.
“By trumpeting Marianne’s madness in very exaggerated terms. Few people question his claims, for he damages his own reputation and that of his family with every word. You know how people react to any hint of insanity.”
“Damned greedy bastard,” muttered Jack. “Marianne will have to face down society as well as the court. Letting this fester even a month will make it impossible to root out. Can you force him to recant?” he asked Devall.
“Not before Friday. He needs money too badly. And I’ve foresworn my old tactics, so would have to use reason – which takes time.”
Marianne flinched. “He will never recant, for he truly believes me mad,” she admitted. “And why would he not? When he accosted me at Halworth, I reacted worse than twelve years ago. He is not a man who easily admits fault, so changing his mind will be very difficult.”
“I thought you did not know him,” said Jack.
“Not personally, but I have been trying to recall everything I heard about him from the staff. I was rebellious as a child, often escaping the nursery to run wild in the park or eavesdrop on the servants. Thus I often heard them telling new maids or footmen about the family.”
Jack shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
Marianne turned to Devall. “Two tales demonstrate the problem. Barnett arrived at Halworth one day wildly excited about an investment opportunity. He wanted Papa’s support, for together they could put up enough to earn a higher return. Papa refused, claiming the scheme was a fraud. Barnett left in a huff. Within six months, he’d lost everything. Only his expectations kept him out of debtor’s prison. Not until he inherited the title did he recover.”
“Ouch,” murmured Jack.
She nodded. “Another time Papa warned him to avoid a certain merchant’s daughter. Barnett laughed at his concerns, but within a week the girl trapped him into marriage. I don’t know if either incident contributed to their rift, but it is clear that Barnett clings to his own course even when others point out the pitfalls.”
“That was a long time ago,” said Jack. “Even if he won’t admit it aloud, Barnett must know by now that his judgment is unsound.”
“I doubt it,” said Marianne. “While I rarely see real people, reading gives me insight into human nature. Many men refuse to accept responsibility for their problems, finding something else to blame instead – Fate, Lady Luck, a friend, a relative, their horse…”
Devall chuckled. “Astute observation.”
“Barnett blamed Papa. And Papa’s success at making money increased his fury. As did his marriage to a lady he loved.”
“Envy,” murmured Devall.
“Or jealousy,” said Jack. “Discovering that his brother left everything to Marianne instead of him must have been the last straw. He probably transferred all his hatred to her.”
“To give him his due, he could have locked me away years ago,” said Marianne. “While he terrifies me, there has to be some element of honor in his heart. It would have been easy to have me declared insane when I turned twenty-one.” The realization steadied her. Barnett was family, after all.
“True,” agreed Devall. “But honor is no longer a factor. Even the best men abandon it when their backs are against a wall. Between them, Barnett and his heir have squandered his entire inheritance, and this time, there are no expectations to hold off his creditors. Without your fortune, he will lose everything but the entailment. According to Fitch, Barnett’s debts are double this year’s entire income. Selling the town house did nothing beyond cover Harold’s latest gaming losses.”
“We can argue Barnett’s level of villainy another time,” said Jack. “The immediate goal is to prepare for the hearing. Can we keep him from discovering that we mean to mount a defense?”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Devall. “We will have to file a counter-petition. Barnett’s barrister is certain to hear about it.”
“Then we cannot expect surprise to throw him off balance. How many witnesses can he produce?” He looked at Marianne.
“Craven will be the strongest, for he visits Halworth four times a year. I cannot spend more than a minute in his company without falling apart.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, though I suspect he is deliberately provoking hysteria. He stands very close, breathing in my face – his breath is very foul – then touches my arm in a way that makes my skin crawl. And his voice hisses.” She shivered.
“Is that all?” asked Devall.
“That is all I can identify specifically, though just the sight of him makes me want to flee. He feels evil. I could probably manage better with time to prepare, but his visits always occur without warning. He does not even allow Hastings to announce him.”
“Mrs. Hastings believes that he wants to seduce you,” said Jack. “Your combination of beauty and innocence casts a powerful lure.”
Marianne stared. Was that why Jack had kissed her?
“There is also the lure of your inheritance. Seducing you would force you into marriage, giving him control
of your fortune,” he added. “Mrs. Hastings described him as a disgusting beast. Has he ever struck you?”
“Once.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders to warm the sudden chill. “But I hit him first. He’d sneaked up behind me and grabbed my arm.” His arm had also brushed her breast, shocking her into the worst burst of hysteria she’d suffered in years.
Jack nodded. “You instinctively know he is dishonorable, so you use fits to drive him away. It’s an unusual weapon, but formidable.”
“Good heavens!” She stared. Could she be that devious?
“Craven has been waging war against you for years,” said Jack. “The most important rule of war is that victory is all that matters – war is no place for niceties. Another rule is that the only practical weapon is the one at hand – in your case, hysteria. Your stay at Barnett Court had proved that it alienated others.”
“Which is why we can’t use it now,” said Devall, breaking into their discussion. “The current battle is for respect. She can’t win if her weapons subvert her goal. But send for her staff. If Barnett doesn’t know she escaped, he will have no reason to watch them. Their testimony should discredit Craven. And it might reflect badly on Barnett for employing the man – to say nothing of his neglect.”
Jack nodded.
“Who else might Barnett produce?” Devall asked Marianne.
“The Halworth guards. They witnessed last week’s fit. And it’s possible that Barnett will produce his family. Lady Barnett swore that I was mad from the moment I arrived on her doorstep. I attacked at least one of my cousins when in the throes of nightmare – possibly more, for I have little memory of those days.”
Jack flinched, again berating himself for leaving without even speaking to Barnett. “Hardly unusual,” he said. “And I doubt their testimony would carry much weight. Those events occurred twelve years ago, just after you had witnessed the butchery of your entire family.”
Marianne gasped. “I said nothing of b-butchery.”
Jack cursed himself for losing control of his tongue, but it was too late to recall the word. “When you described their deaths, I realized that I had seen them. I stumbled across two such scenes before meeting you in France. Do not think of their ends,” he added when she paled. “By then, their spirits had moved on to a better place and had no further use of their bodies.”
“You sound as if the two are separate.”
“They are. One of the first lessons war teaches is to distinguish the man from the body. In life, they seem as one, but death divides them. The spirit leaves, no longer caring what befalls its former home, for the vacant body is of no more importance than a broken wheel or shattered sword. When the battle is finished, we bury the shell in memory of the man who once inhabited it, but the depredations of war cannot harm the spirit. The same is true of your family. They await you in the hereafter, whole and at peace, uncaring of the hurts inflicted on their flesh.”
She nodded.
“Are those all the witnesses he might produce?” asked Devall, returning the conversation to the point.
“Unless he sends for someone from Carey’s or produces his staff to corroborate my behavior. But I was barely at the Court a month. Only Craven and Barnett have seen me in the years since.”
“I doubt Carey will corroborate anything. We can counter tales of those early days by explaining Marianne’s distress,” said Jack thoughtfully. “They attributed it to madness, because her behavior seemed too extreme for grief. But they did not know how her family died. Nor did they understand the terror she experienced afterward. Escaping France was not a simple jaunt up to town. Not until we touched England’s shore did I believe we would make it.”
“Are you saying that your testimony will counter everything Barnett can produce?” asked Marianne.
“It might raise doubts, but even the word of a military hero would need corroboration,” said Devall.
Jack flinched. “Which means finding Miss Dubois. Have you any idea where she is?”
“I never really knew her,” admitted Marianne. “She was young – not yet twenty – and had only been working for Mama for a few months. I didn’t even know about her family until after mine died.”
Jack frowned. “I escorted her to an aunt’s cottage, but I don’t recall the direction – somewhere near Kensington, but that was twelve years ago. She didn’t even reveal her true name, calling herself Clarisse.”
“That attack revived her own childhood terrors.” Marianne turned to Devall. “Her father, Comte Dubois, was killed by a mob when she was seven. When she saw what was happening at the inn, she feared for her life – either as a hated aristocrat or as a traitor for serving the English.”
“Have you any idea what the aunt’s name was?” asked Devall.
Marianne shook her head. “We rarely spoke before that day. Afterward, we said only what was necessary for the journey. She feared that someone might overhear us and ask questions.”
“Fitch will find her family.”
“But not before Friday,” said Jack. He met Marianne’s eyes. “Can you manage a hearing before a stern judge and sarcastic barristers in a room filled with strange men? Barnett’s barrister will poke and prod you, hoping to trigger a fit. The judge will censure him for such tactics, but if you react, he will remember.”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “These last three days prove that I am stronger than I thought, but this hearing will determine how I spend the rest of my life. I will be terrified even before anyone speaks to me. And you know that some of my fears are very real. Even you can’t talk me into a stable, no matter how hard I try.”
He was right that odor was the problem. One whiff of hay and she was back in that loft, pelted by her mother’s screams. If Barnett’s barrister thrust a clump of hay in her face, she would fall apart.
“Then we must delay the hearing and make it harder for Barnett to prove his claims,” said Jack.
“How?” Devall raised his brows. “I can try for a postponement, but my power is limited. Society may have welcomed me back, but my reputation persists in some circles, and my fight for reform in Parliament has made new enemies.”
“A change of venue will put Barnett on the defensive and place the onus of proof in his hands rather than ours,” said Jack. “Chancery handles wills and contracts and other civil matters, but it can’t rule on marriage, so Marianne and I will wed immediately.”
She choked.
Jack ignored her. “Marriage will terminate his guardianship, removing the legal standing he now enjoys. Chancery will throw out his petition because he is no longer an interested party. If he wishes to continue the battle, he can file for an annulment on grounds of insanity, but that case would go to the ecclesiastical court. It will take more than claims of hysteria to prove madness there. The bishop favors unions. And he does not move quickly, which gives us time to find Francine Dubois and prove that Carey is a charlatan, raising questions about Barnett’s motives.”
Marianne’s mood changed from euphoria to shock to terror so quickly that she nearly slid to the floor. “But you c-can’t want—” She stuttered to a halt when she met Jack’s eyes. Determination blazed in their depths. So did apathy. Her stomach turned to ice.
“It is a novel approach, but something you should discuss in private,” declared Devall, rising. “Let me know what you decide.”
Marianne barely heard the door shut. Jack still intended to kill himself, so this proposal meant nothing. But the cause of his melancholy was more elusive than ever. Devall and Angela considered him the finest man they knew, honorable, caring, and a damned good soldier – which explained his offer. Hadn’t he just expounded his philosophy of war? A good soldier used the best weapon available. In the battle against Barnett, that weapon was marriage.
His next words echoed her thoughts. “Marriage is your only chance, Marianne. We cannot find your witnesses before Friday, and you are too nervous to carry the day on your own. We can investigate Barnett’s fin
ances further, but finding evidence that would sway a judge takes time. Most of what we know is gossip – not compelling under law, I’m afraid. So your only hope is to force Barnett to start over in a new court. Marriage would also terminate your trust, preventing the trustees from releasing your assets to Barnett in anticipation of the court ruling.”
“They would never do that.”
“How do you know? Have you met them?”
“Of course not.”
“How often do you correspond with them?”
“They send me quarterly statements, and they send books whenever I ask for them.” She frowned. “That’s odd. I should have received a statement last week.”
“But you didn’t. Barnett probably convinced them to pay for Carey’s evaluation, preparatory to his court case. It wouldn’t have been hard. Conservative bankers do not believe women can handle money. Since you never married, they would consider it in your best interests to let Barnett manage your affairs. How much is in the trust?”
“The estate and several investments.”
“What investments?”
“I don’t know. Consols, I expect. And possibly a few shares Papa had before he died. The statements are very simple – a list of my expenditures with the notation that the excess income was reinvested. They send money to Hastings each quarter to cover staff salaries and household expenses.”
Jack stared. “That can’t be right. Bankers revel in details. They should tell you to the last pence what you have and where it is. There should be a list of income by source and another list of shares bought and sold.”
“Maybe it is because I am a female – don’t forget that I was only twelve when the trust began. No one burdens children with financial details – especially females – so they kept the accounts simple. I never complained, so they had no reason to change.” She shrugged, though she was kicking herself. She had expected to engage a man of business to oversee her investments, but that was no excuse for ignorance. How did she know the trustees were honest?
