Parnham’s servants were also an odd assortment. None of them had come with him from the burned-down family home, as far as she could ascertain. At first when Nancy moved to the hall, she had complained of the butler and housekeeper, who were not as accustomed to their positions as those at Willow End. But Parnham had seen no need to replace them, and Nancy had gone along with his judgment. Her high expectations were seldom met, she’d told Jane, but the housekeeper, at least, seemed to make a real effort to improve.
A footman hurried out of the hall and sprang to open the carriage door for Jane. She assumed that the butler had gone to inform Parnham of her arrival, and she walked firmly toward the open door. Over her shoulder she said, “I have two cases. If you would bring them in with you, please.”
Before she reached the door, Nancy was there, rushing into her arms, a sparkle of moisture in her eyes. “Oh, Jane, how good of you to come! I never meant to hint that you should, you know,” she whispered fiercely against her sister’s shoulder. “I just felt that I had to put that in writing.”
“I understand. Come, we’ll talk in private.”
As soon as they were alone, Nancy said, “John’s gone off somewhere without leaving any message for me. I can never tell whether he’ll be back in a few hours or a few days. It’s disconcerting.”
An understatement, surely, Jane thought. “Well, we’ll do very well in his absence, I daresay. I had visions of him refusing to let me stay here.”
Nancy ducked her head between hunched shoulders. “He might have. With a perfectly reasonable excuse, of course: I’m too shaken from my experience yesterday to have company, or some such thing. Oh, Jane, I don’t know what to believe.”
“Certainly nothing that he tells you,” her sister replied briskly. “I don’t know how you can bear to stay here with him. Tell me why you returned.”
It was as Rossmere had suspected: a threat about the child. Jane was glad to be able to relieve her sister’s mind on that score. “He won’t hurt William. That’s where his fortune is to come from, being guardian for the boy and holding his money in trust. I’m absolutely positive about that, Nancy.”
Nancy’s lips quivered but she said nothing. Her jerky movements and distracted expression alarmed her sister. Jane talked to her for a long time, in a soothing, assured voice. She told Nancy about her suspicions and her own suggestions for a solution. When Nancy continued to look numbly disturbed, Jane brought forth Rossmere’s much more drastic measures. Nancy stared at her.
“You mustn’t consider marrying him just to protect me! How awful for you. Jane, we don’t even know if John is this villain you picture. I’m so torn, myself. Except for these wretched occurrences, he’s as loving and thoughtful as he ever was. I’m so confused. Perhaps my mind really is distorted.”
“Hush! Don’t even consider that as a possibility. It’s what he wants you to do. Whether you’re frightened of him or frightened that you’re ill, you’re much more likely to act ‘irrationally.’ I would do anything in my power to protect you, Nancy, including marrying Lord Rossmere.”
“I don’t see how it could help me for you to marry him.”
“Oh, I think he may be right that we could keep you and William safe at Graywood. I have a feeling he would be quite Parnham’s match, you know. There’s nothing fainthearted about him. I keep thinking there must be some other way,” she admitted. “I keep thinking this can’t be happening.”
“That’s how I feel: surely there is some mistake and this is only a nightmare that will come to an end.” Nancy clasped her hands in her lap. “Do you like the viscount?”
Jane laughed. “I’m not even sure. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I’m even... attracted to him. But I hardly know him and he can be very distant. He was quite adamant about not marrying me for my money when Aunt Mabel first suggested it.”
“Aunt Mabel! She’s been matchmaking again?”
“I’m afraid so. She saw it as the perfect arrangement: he needed money and I needed a husband. What could be more reasonable?”
“No doubt she meant it for the best. But, Jane, what about . . . well, your feelings for Richard?”
Jane stared out the window, her eyes unfocused. “I think I’m beginning to accept that with his death those feelings had to change. They aren’t as bright and fresh anymore. Now, instead of filling my whole heart, they’ve condensed into a hard knot as rich as gold but with empty space around them.” She brought her gaze back to her sister. “Can you understand that?”
“I think so. Do you think Rossmere could fill that empty space?”
It was a long time before Jane answered. Finally, with a sigh, she said, “Perhaps. Or children could. I can’t really know. Just recently I feel that I have to get on with my life and that it’s possible that doesn’t mean remaining a spinster aunt to my brothers’ and sisters’ children.”
Nancy regarded her clasped hands and spoke in almost a whisper. “I would come to you if you were at Graywood, and married. If it were just you alone, I would fear for both of us, Jane. I’m frightened, so full of fear that sometimes I can’t see John at all for the monster that faces me. In my mind, he is no more or less than the devil. I realize that must sound unbalanced, but I can’t help but invest him with every element of evil I’ve ever imagined.”
‘‘I don’t blame you."
“I feel better now that you’ve explained that William is probably safe. I don’t care so much for myself, but the poor child..."
“You must care for yourself, too, my love,” her sister urged. “You see, John’s trying to take away that as well. If you start to believe that you’re not worth saving, that there must be something horribly wrong with you if he could do this despicable thing, then you won’t fight for your life.”
Nancy shuddered, but her hands made a gesture of hopelessness. “Sometimes I can’t remember why it matters if he kills me. I get to thinking I must deserve to die.”
“How awful! You must stay angry instead of fearful and despondent. Remember that you have a whole family full of people who love you.”
“But Papa? He can’t even believe what’s happening. And you know, Jane—”
“Don’t think Papa is against you,” Jane said, wrapping a comforting arm around her sister. She explained Lord Barlow’s reasons and airily dismissed his doubts. For the rest of the afternoon, she stayed with Nancy, but hard as her sister tried to hide it, Jane could see that her self-confidence was shattered, and there was little she could do to change that.
Since Parnham wasn’t back yet, she felt safe enough allowing Nancy to go off alone to dress for dinner, though not to the nursery later. What had happened at Willow End was still firmly planted in her mind. The nursery at Parnham Hall was more conveniently located on the second floor, but in a scarcely used wing of the house. Jane stayed within sight of her sister for the whole evening and begged Nancy to share her room when they went up to bed.
“Parnham isn’t here to object,” Jane pointed out.
“But what if he returns in the night?”
“If he leaves and returns without warning, he can’t very well expect you to be instantly available to him.”
“He will, though.”
Jane made a disparaging gesture. “I don’t think I’d let that bother me overmuch.”
“No, but if he’s not here, there’s nothing to worry about, either.”
Against her better judgment, Jane acquiesced to her sister’s reasoning. The room she’d been given was a considerable distance from Nancy’s, and she disliked the fact that she was not within closer range of her sister’s voice. Would she be able to hear a cry for help? Jane fretted about the matter for some time before coming to a decision. She would simply move into a closer room, once the household had settled down.
Nancy and Parnham’s suite of rooms consisted of a dressing room for him, next to their bedchamber, and then her sitting room. Both the dressing room and the sitting room were too likely to be used for Jane to enter one of them.
Beyond the sitting room was an unused guest room, only rarely pressed into service because of the desire for privacy in the master suite. Jane now tiptoed through the dark corridor in her nightdress, a coverlet wrapped around her, listening carefully for even the slightest sound in the night that might indicate the presence of another person.
In the total silence she opened the door to the guest chamber and it squeaked softly on its hinges. With one last, hasty glance up and down the hall, she slipped into the room and brought the door almost to a closed position behind her. Jane’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and she could see that the room had only a smattering of furniture: a stripped bed, a utilitarian bureau, and a straight-backed chair. Apparently there had been no call for the extra room during Nancy’s tenure at the hall, or it wouldn’t have been so desolate.
The bed’s headboard was against the wall that adjoined Nancy’s sitting room. With any luck Jane would be able to hear voices through the solid partition, even if they reached her only as muted sounds. She arranged herself on the bed with more regard to staying alert than to comfort, despite her exhaustion. If she was going to sleep—and her heavy eyelids indicated that she was—she at least wanted to be ready to spring into action at the slightest indication of trouble. Before she had decided how she would recognize what constituted trouble, she was fast asleep.
* * * *
Jane found herself in the middle of a nightmare, caught in a web of treachery that caused her heart to pound with fear. The fear made her body jump, shaking her abruptly out of sleep. Dazed, disoriented, she glanced around the room. The emptiness of it seemed almost to fit with her dream, where she had been alone but threatened by something outside the door. Her heart still thumped rapidly and the palms of her hands felt damp. She had to remind herself that it was only a dream.
Gathering the coverlet around her, she slipped off the bed and crossed to the door. Hadn’t she left it open? Yes, it still rested against the latch. She pulled it toward her and peered nervously out into the hall. There was nothing there, but by this time Jane felt a strong desire for reassurance. She walked the few steps to Nancy’s sitting room and cautiously turned the doorknob. There was no resistance, so she let herself in.
The sitting room was empty. She crossed to the connecting door to the bedchamber. Parnham might have returned, of course, but Jane needed to see for herself that Nancy was safe. If Parnham was there, he was doubtless fast asleep, as there was no sound coming from the room. Once again Jane turned the knob and inched open the door. From where she stood, she could see the big bed, but she couldn’t see anyone in it.
Walking carefully, she crept closer, only to discover that her first perception was correct: there was no one in the bed. Jane’s heart pounded in her chest. Where could Nancy be?
There was an empty glass on the nightstand. It had the familiar look of the warm milk glass their housekeeper had sent up to comfort them as children on cold nights or when they had difficulty sleeping. Absently Jane picked up the glass and sniffed the dregs. Milk, yes, and beginning to sour. Or was that something else? Odd, the association was just out of reach of her conscious mind. The bitter fragrance sent alarm through her body.
“Nancy?” she called softly, hurrying now out of the room into Parnham’s dressing room. It, too, was empty. She hastened past the clothes press and out into the hall, padding down the corridor to the water closet. Empty. Where could her sister have gone? To the nursery? To the kitchen? She would have to check each of them. A sense of urgency was growing in her.
The house was still and her hasty footsteps sounded too loud in her own ears. The nursery was dark and silent, the kitchen deserted. Time was passing, precious time. Being in the kitchen reminded her of the milk at her sister’s bedside. They had fresh milk at Parnham Hall, from one of the tenant farmers. Surely it would not have spoiled so quickly, even after being warmed. And that odor, somehow familiar. Jane associated it with the toothache. Hers?
No, Aunt Mabel’s. That was it! Her aunt had had a dreadful toothache a year or two previously. Because it was nighttime there was nothing to be done except give her laudanum. Jane remembered distinctly that the Willow End housekeeper had brought some from her own medicine chest and offered it to Lady Mabel in a glass of water. The distinct bitter smell had remained as an elusive memory for Jane.
Would Nancy have put laudanum in her warm milk? Perhaps. She was so distressed by the strange occurrences that she might have sought a temporary oblivion. Or someone else might have offered it to her without her knowledge. Jane’s breath caught on the thought. Much more likely that Parnham had something to do with this!
A riot of possibilities suggested themselves to her, none of them anything but chilling. If Parnham had put laudanum in Nancy’s milk and if she was senseless now, then Parnham had to have taken her somewhere. Jane remembered the flight of stairs at Willow End, but knew there was nothing at the hall so steep and dangerous. So where, where, had he taken her?
Jane was standing in the kitchen as these thoughts whirled through her mind. Her absent gaze through the window showed her the kitchen garden in leafy bloom. Nancy was not a featherweight; it would require a strenuous effort to carry her very far. Somewhere in the house, naturally. But Jane’s eyes came into focus on the path outside, leading off toward the vegetable gardens. And beyond the vegetable gardens, the shrubbery, with another walk leading to the pond. Oh, God, the pond!
As though in confirmation of her worst fears, she found the door leading to the outside was unlocked. It was not, in fact, completely shut, and Jane pushed it hurriedly open with such violence that it slammed against the bricks of the walls with a loud report. The noise echoed clearly in the quiet night. No sense in trying to disguise her search after that. And besides, it seemed to Jane that the more noise she made now, the better her chances of frightening off Parnham. If she was in time...
Never had she run as fast as she ran now. She was unaware of the scrapes on her bare feet as she darted over the bricks. I must be in time, I must be in time, she repeated constantly in her mind as she cried loudly, “Nancy! Nancy! Where are you? I’m coming, Nancy.”
Through the vegetable gardens and into the shrubbery, with her breath already coming in shallow gasps. “Nancy!” The shrubbery was never-ending, its pleasure maze was a torment, with bushes too high to see over, too thick to see through. Not until she rounded the last bend did she have a clear view down the long path that led to the pond.
There was only a sliver of moon casting a pale light on the scene. As she ran, Jane could hear the disturbed ducks on the pond quacking nervously, and she could see something moving near the edge of the water. “Stop! Nancy! I’m here,” she cried in spite of the harsh pounding in her chest. Would she never reach them? She stumbled and recovered herself, ran on.
“It’s all right, Jane,” said the man who crouched beside her sister’s inert body on the ground.
Jane stopped short a few yards away and stared at Rossmere. “What are you doing here? What’s happened to Nancy? Where’s Parnham?”
The viscount had his hand against Nancy’s neck, feeling the pulse beat. “It’s slow but steady. I’d guess she’s been given some sedative.”
“Laudanum. I could smell it in the milk glass, but I couldn’t for the longest time remember what it was.” Jane dropped down beside him, clasping one of her sister’s hands. “Please explain what’s going on. I don’t understand this.”
Rossmere shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around Nancy’s still body. “I think we should get her back to her bed first. Then I promise to tell you what I know.” He stood up and reached a hand down to her.
“Yes, of course!” Jane allowed him to grip her hand firmly and to maintain his hold on it once she stood swaying beside him. She was experiencing a reaction to her fear and the exertion of her race through the night: her whole body trembled and her knees barely supported her.
Suddenly she found herself sustained by Rossmere’s strong arms around her.
In her ear the fierce undercurrent of his voice muttered, “Oh, you foolish, brave woman. Didn’t it occur to you that a man so vile would scarcely hesitate to dispose of you, too?”
“No, I’m afraid it didn’t,” she whispered back. Her hands had gone around his waist, and her head pressed tightly against his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. Nancy is safe. We’ll keep her safe, won’t we? I won’t let her out of my sight until she’s safely away from here, Stephen. He mustn’t have another chance to hurt her.”
She felt the pressure of his lips against her forehead. “We’ll keep her safe,” he promised.
Chapter 15
Jane allowed herself to be held for only a minute longer. Poor Nancy lay there in need of their attention. At least she had been too medicated to know what was happening. Even now she slept peacefully on the ground, Rossmere’s coat spread over her, her hair tousled and loose on the grass beside the gravel path.
Stepping back from the viscount’s comforting arms, Jane said, “She could probably walk if we wakened her.” She leaned down to soothe her sister’s cheek, but Nancy’s eyelids didn’t even flicker.
“I can carry her. If you’ll just bring my coat... and the doll.”
Until that moment Jane hadn’t noticed the doll lying on the path not far from where Nancy lay. Her startled gaze swung up to Rossmere.
“It was in the pond, as I’m sure you suspected. Kicked under an old hemp sack.”
“If you waded in to get it, you must be soaked.”
“I’ve been drier in my life,” he admitted as he bent to gather Nancy into his arms. He stood there frowning for a moment. “But don’t get up your hopes about being able to point a finger at Parnham for this, Jane. I’m afraid we’re no further along than we were before, as far as having any tangible proof of his guilt.”
The Proud Viscount Page 14
