by Anne Herries
She had laughed again and then run off through the woods. Gerard had laughed too, because he thought it the foolish boasting of a young woman who felt herself scorned. He had forgotten it until he heard about the scandal and the shocking tragedy of her death.
He had never spoken to anyone of that afternoon. He had never realised that they had been seen in what must have looked like a passionate embrace. He had certainly never thought it the true reason for the beating he had been given by Sir Michael Royston’s bully-boys.
‘I do not know why Marguerite thinks herself in love with you.’
Gerard frowned. He had known there was something he ought to remember from the first moment Miss Ross arrived at Pendleton.
He had not even considered Lucinda’s words serious at the time. Remembering now, he thought there had been something a little spiteful in the way Lucinda had spoken of her sister. Why should Mar-guerite Ross have thought herself in love with him? He hardly knew her. They had danced once or twice—three times at most. He had sat next to her one evening at dinner and made polite conversation, but he had hardly noticed her. He had already been in love with Amelia.
His mind turned back to the scene earlier when Marguerite had thrown those vile accusations at him. He had been looking at Amelia, willing her to trust him, to love him as he loved her—but he had seen the doubts in her eyes.
Marguerite’s accusations, the way she looked at him, had seemed angry…almost bitter. Why did she hate him? It seemed clear that she must—for why else would she meet Lieutenant Gordon and plot with him? He was certain now that the two had worked together. Gordon must have had his information from Marguerite. Amelia’s innocent letters had told her all she needed to know.
Amelia had begun to suspect it even before Marguerite’s outburst. She had thought the woman under Gordon’s influence but…supposing she were the instigator of the plot to abduct Amelia and kill her? It made perfect sense. Gordon might hate him because of Lisette’s death, but he had not looked for revenge at the start. Some thing—or some one—had made him decide that he would punish Gerard through Amelia. If that someone were Marguerite, it explained why she had suddenly arrived at Pendleton.
Gerard felt cold. They had harboured a viper in their midst! His first thought was for Lisa, because she was an innocent, unsuspecting child. Receiving no answer from Amelia’s room, he went immediately to the nursery, where he found the same peaceful scene that Amelia had found earlier. His relief was soon overcome with anger.
Damn it! He would not put up with this nonsense. Gerard returned to the master suite and opened the door to Amelia’s room from the hall. A brief search told him that she was not there. He left and walked towards the stairs. Down in the hall, he asked the footman on duty if he had seen Miss Royston recently.
‘She went out a few minutes ago, my lord. Perhaps a quarter of an hour. I watched her for a moment, because she seemed unlike herself—a little distracted, if you will forgive my saying so. I think she walked towards the lake.’
‘Thank you.’
Gerard frowned. He was not dressed for walking. It would take but a moment to fetch his greatcoat. He would follow her and hope that they could settle this nonsense!
The cold air stung her cheeks and eyes, but Amelia pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, determined not to be put off her walk. She knew it was foolish of her to run away from Gerard, because they would have to talk sooner or later. However, she was feeling too raw to face him just yet. Had the accusation come from just one person she might have dismissed it—but both her brother and Marguerite had blamed Gerard for Lucinda’s downfall and her death. Until the previous night she had been unsure of his feelings for her, but after their lovemaking she had felt secure in his love. Now all those niggling doubts had come flooding back.
If Gerard loved her, why had he married so soon after they parted? Why hadn’t he come to her and told her what her brother had done? Amelia’s thoughts went round and round as she battled her tears.
Was it possible that Gerard had seduced her friend while at the same time swearing eternal love for Amelia? Could he truly be so ruthless…so cold and uncaring? Could he make love to her so tenderly if he were the man her brother and Marguerite claimed?
No, of course not! Now that she could think clearly, Amelia began to see how wrong it was. Gerard loved her. It was true that he had married another woman, and Lisette had taken her own life—perhaps because Gerard had told her that he could not love her. She had exonerated him freely of blame for that—could she not show as much faith again? She must if she trusted her own senses, her own heart—because she loved him.
She still loved him! Despite all the doubts and accusations thrown at him, she loved him. She would always love him. Without Gerard her life would be empty, a sterile pointless existence that would lead to bitter old age.
Amelia frowned. If she accepted that her brother had been mistaken in what he had seen, she must believe Gerard. He had told her that Lucinda was wanton…that she had kissed him. It was this that she had found so hard to accept. A light, flirtatious kiss in a moment of fun—yes, that she could accept—but Lucinda a wanton?
Was it possible that she had never really known her? They had been friends, but had Lucinda kept secrets from her? The answer must be that she had, because she had never told Amelia that she had a lover. Only when she discovered that she was with child and confessed to her parents that her lover would not marry her, had she told anyone of her shame.
Amelia wished that she knew the truth. She had always felt sad about Lucinda’s suicide…but Marguerite had hinted that Gerard had killed her because she threatened to name him.
No, he would never do something like that! Amelia could not accept that he was a murderer. Everything that was in her protested his innocence. If he was in nocent of her death, it followed that Lucinda had either taken her own life in a moment of despair—or someone else had killed her. So if Amelia believed Gerard was in nocent of murder, she ought to believe him innocent of seduction and desertion.
She did believe him! Amelia felt the doubts fall away, a weight lifting from her shoulders as her mind cleared. Gerard would not lie to her! How could he after what they had been to one another? She had hurt and angered him because she had not instantly accepted his word. She ought to have known at once, of course, but the accusations had shocked her so deeply that she hardly knew what she was saying. She had had to deal with Emily and Toby, forcing herself to behave naturally, and it was only now that she had been able to see things clearly.
Why had Marguerite come to the house if she believed that Gerard had seduced and murdered her sister?
There could be only one answer. She was in league with Lieutenant Gordon. He craved revenge for Lisette’s death and Marguerite wanted revenge for her sister’s shame.
Why did she believe that Lucinda had been forced into the river? Amelia had always thought that she must have flung herself from the bridge because she could not face her shame…why did Marguerite think otherwise?
It was puzzling for until now she had never heard anyone speak of such a possibility. Even Mrs Ross had spoken of her daughter’s suicide.
‘I was angry with her for her foolish behaviour but I would have taken care of her. She had no need to take her own life,’ the grieving mother declared. ‘Her papa was angry, but I loved her.’
Amelia recalled the mother’s tears. She frowned as she tried to picture the scene that afternoon. She had gone to the Rosses’ house to visit and pay her condolences. Mrs Ross had received her alone and then…Marguerite had come in. Amelia had glanced at her face and…she had been so angry…
Angry. Marguerite had not looked as if she were grieving. Her eyes were not ringed with red, as her mother’s were—she was angry.
‘Marguerite…’ Amelia unconsciously spoke the words aloud. ‘She was jealous of her sister—and angry…’ Why was she so angry? Amelia could not quite grasp the last pieces of the puzzle.
She ha
d reached the lake. She stood for a moment, staring down the steep bank at the dark grey water, which reflected the clouds above. On a summer day it would be pleasant here, but today there was a feeling of isolation as a light mist began to curl across the water. Amelia sighed, feeling lonely, uneasy. Then, as she heard a twig snap beneath some one’s foot, she turned and looked into Mar-guerite’s face. She was as angry now as she had been on the day Amelia visited her home.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked her. ‘I thought you had left?’
‘I met some one and we decided we would wait for a while.’ Marguerite’s eyes flicked past Amelia to someone who had approached from the right. ‘It seems we were lucky, Nanny. You said that she would walk out alone if she was upset—and you were right.’
Amelia looked round and saw Alice Horton. She was dressed in a black cloak, the hood covering her head and most of her face—but her eyes were cold, filled with malice.
A sliver of fear ran down Amelia’s spine. She was completely alone here, for few were out on a day like this. Even the labourers would hurry home to eat their dinner in a warm kitchen.
‘This is private land. You have no right here. The earl dismissed you.’
‘Because you told him to,’ Alice Horton said bitterly. ‘You stole my girl’s admirer and then wrote pitying letters to her…asking her to be a governess. She is a lady…better than you…’
‘What are you talking about? I have stolen no one’s lover.’ Amelia stared at Marguerite, trying to make some sense of the accusation. ‘Is she speaking about you? I did not mean to patronise you by offering you a place in my household—only to help you find happiness.’
‘He liked me before you made eyes at him…’ Marguerite’s eyes glittered with hatred. ‘Lucinda knew how I felt. She laughed at me when she told me he was courting you…but then she stopped laughing.’
Amelia felt icy cold as she looked into the other woman’s face. Anger and hatred—and something more…something dangerous.
‘What happened to Lucinda? Why do you think she did not commit suicide?’
Marguerite’s lips curved in a sneer. ‘She could swim like a fish. Lucinda used to swim in the river all the time. She learned when she was five years old. She was always laughing at me because I dare not follow her into the deep water. She had no fear of anything.’
‘If Lucinda could swim, why did she drown?’
‘She fell from the bridge and hit her head on an iron strut. It was an accident…’ Marguerite’s eyes looked strange. ‘She was laughing…and then she stopped laughing because I pushed her and she fell.’ A queer, high laugh escaped Marguerite. ‘I shouldn’t have told you that, should I? You will guess now and that means you have to die…but it doesn’t matter because you were going to die anyway.’ She looked at Alice Horton and giggled. ‘Shall I push her in the lake? Everyone will think she killed herself because he betrayed her with that slut of a sister of mine. I got away with it once, I can do it again.’
‘Now then, pet, you mustn’t get so upset,’ Alice Horton soothed. ‘Lucinda was a silly girl, but you didn’t mean to kill her. It was an accident.’
‘Oh, but I did…’ Marguerite’s eyes blazed. ‘I wanted her to die. She boasted that he was her lover. She knew that I loved him. It was why she wanted him. She had the other one—the one who had given her a child—but she wanted him too, because she knew I loved him. She always had to have everything, but this time I stopped her.’
‘Who was the other one?’ Amelia asked. She curled her nails into her palms, willing herself to keep calm. She must hear the truth now! ‘What was his name?’
‘Surely you know?’ Marguerite glared at her. ‘He was so angry because he saw her with Gerard that he wouldn’t help her. He had promised to leave his wife. He was besotted with Lucinda, gave her presents of jewellery. He told her that Louisa was a nag and a scold and he would get a divorce, but after he saw her with Gerard he raged at her, told her she was a slut and he wouldn’t see her again. Lucinda told me it all before I—’
‘My brother?’ Amelia stared at her in horror. Suddenly, it all made sense. It wasn’t to protect her that Michael had had Gerard thrashed—it was jealousy, because he believed the woman he loved had betrayed him with Gerard Ravenshead! His hatred stemmed from the be lief that Gerard had taken Lucinda from him!
The sickness rose in her throat as she saw it all so clearly. Michael had been Lucinda’s lover, not Gerard, but he had seen them kiss. It was just a moment of light flirtation, as Gerard claimed, but Michael had lost his head. He had had Gerard beaten and broken Amelia’s heart because he was jealous.
Amelia’s head was whirling as she tried to take all the new information in. Her brother had seduced Lucinda. He was the father of her child. He had promised to leave his wife, but then he’d seen her in Gerard’s arms that summer afternoon and he had believed they were lovers. Amelia didn’t know what had happened that day, but she imagined it was just a piece of nonsense on a warm afternoon—because of it Michael had had Gerard thrashed and ruined her life. But what had Marguerite done?
‘Did you kill Lucinda because you believed she had taken Gerard from you?’
Marguerite’s eyes had gone blank, but now they focused on Amelia once more. ‘You stole him from me. I thought it was her, but it was you. She laughed at me and told me he was going to marry you. I flew at her and we struggled and then…she fell and hit her head. I saw her floating with her face in the water.’
‘Why didn’t you fetch help or try to get her out?’
‘I couldn’t swim. I’m afraid of the deep water and—’ Suddenly, Marguerite’s eyes narrowed, became crafty, evil. ‘I wanted her to die. I want you to die. Why should you have everything while I have nothing? My father said I would never marry…it was her fault…your fault…’Marguerite advanced on her, her hands going for Amelia’s throat. ‘If you drown, they will blame him…and he will die too. He will know what it is like to lose everything.’
‘No!’ Amelia tried to throw her off, but Marguerite was too strong. ‘Help me! Help me…’
Alice Horton stood for a moment, seeming undecided, then she pulled at Marguerite’s arm.
‘Stop this, sweeting. It isn’t her fault that you can’t marry. You know what your papa said—’
‘Get off me!’ Marguerite swung her arm back, throwing the older woman off balance so that she fell to her knees. In that moment Amelia struggled free and started to run. Marguerite came after her, grabbing her by the waist and somehow bringing her down. ‘You’ve got to die. You can’t live now that you know. He was supposed to help me, but he is a weak coward. So I must do it myself.’
Amelia screamed and struggled to throw Mar-guerite off, but she was very strong. Her hands were tightening their hold about Amelia’s throat and she couldn’t breathe. Everything was going black and then she heard a shout…several voices shouting. People were racing towards them.
‘Damn you! You murdering bitch!’
Gerard’s voice! Amelia heard it through a haze of mist, as if she were far away. Several men were shouting and there were the sounds of a struggle. She heard Marguerite screaming and then water splashing, more screaming, shouting and then sobbing. A woman was weeping bitterly.
‘Is she dead, sir? My poor little mad girl.’
Amelia’s throat hurt, but she struggled to sit up. She couldn’t see clearly, but she knew that Gerard wasn’t alone. There were other men there…some of them had guns. She thought one voice might have belonged to the Marquis of Northaven, but she wasn’t sure, because it was distant, blurred. Everything was going hazy again as she fell back on the damp ground.
The woman was still sobbing. She thought it was Alice Horton. Men were talking, calling for someone to go for the doctor. Things seemed to be going on around her. She was being lifted and carried in someone’s arms, but she couldn’t see or hear any more…
Gerard stood looking down, his heart wrenched as he saw Amelia throw out her arm and cry out some
thing he could not hear. Her body was drenched in sweat. However many times they changed the sheets she became wet through again and the doctor was worried that her fever would turn to pneumonia.
‘If the fever turns putrid, she may die,’ he had told Gerard before he left. ‘All you can do is to watch over her and pray.’
‘Don’t let her die…’ The anguished words were torn from him. ‘If I have sinned, vent your anger on me—let me take her place. I beg you, do not let her die.’
Gerard was not sure who he was praying to, for long ago he had felt that God was a myth, a fairy story. How could a gentle God allow the things he had seen in battle?
Tears trickled down his cheeks as he bent over Amelia and kissed her damp brow. ‘Live for me, my darling,’ he whispered. ‘Live for me. I cannot bear it if you leave me…forgive me…forgive me…’
His expression was wintry. This was his fault. If he had spoken to Amelia earlier she would not have gone out alone. He should have made her believe that he’d had nothing to do with Lucinda.
Amelia opened her eyes to see a woman bending over her. The mist cleared for long enough for her to see that it was someone she knew…Susannah. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat hurt too badly and every part of her body ached. Susannah touched her hand, a tear sliding down her cheek.
‘You’ve been so ill, dearest,’ she said. ‘You had a fever. The doctor said it was a putrid infection of the lungs. We thought we were going to lose you. Gerard has been out of his mind.’
‘Marguerite…’ The word was a harsh whisper.
Susannah gripped her hand. ‘Do not worry, dearest. She can’t hurt anyone again. Her father has agreed to have her sent to a secure place where she will be properly cared for as long as she lives. He says he should have done it years ago, but her mother would not have it.’
‘Not dead? I thought…’ Amelia sighed.
‘No…she tried to drown herself, but the Marquis of Northaven pulled her out of the lake. Gerard met him a few minutes earlier as he left the house to search for you. He had brought news and they were talking as they walked to the lake—and then they saw what was happening. Some of Gerard’s men were already racing to your rescue, but he was the first to reach you.’
