Lady Vengeance

by Melinda Hammond

  As the wine took effect, Hannah Grisson began to relax and the viscount refilled her glass.

  ‘What is this jewel that my lord Thurleigh was so anxious to find?’

  ‘It is a large brooch. A ruby set in gold. He claims my mistress stole from him years before, but that is not true, sir, for never would Miss Nell do such a thing. If it was Lord Thurleigh’s, he must have given it to her, and later changed his mind. When I think of what my poor lady has already endured at his hands, that he must add this insult –’ She broke off, her voice totally suspended in tears.

  The viscount waited patiently while she checked her sobs and grew calm again.

  ‘Madam, you say your mistress was previously known to the marquis? Forgive me, but I thought Madame de Sange had lived in France since her childhood.’

  Hannah hesitated, gazing uncertainly at the viscount.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘I think your mistress is very dear to you, and you must see that she might be in need of a friend now. I wish you would tell me everything.’ He smiled encouragingly. ‘You can trust me.’

  The smile won. She began, haltingly at first, to give lord Davenham an account of Elinor’s history. The viscount listened attentively, interpolating a question upon occasion when some point was not clear to him, and when she had finished her tale he remained perfectly still for some minutes, a faint crease upon his brow as he pondered all he had heard.

  ‘I pray you, sir, do not think too harshly of my mistress!’ begged Hannah, worried by his serious mien. ‘I confess that when we came to England and she told me of her intention to be avenged upon the men who had ruined her life, I did not believe her to be serious.’

  ‘Surely the death of Julian Poyntz should have convinced you.’

  ‘But my lady did not kill him, it was his heart.’

  ‘How fortunate for Madame de Sange.’

  The old woman bit her lip. ‘You do not believe it.’

  ‘Nay, Mistress, I know it to be true, but I believe Poyntz had been frightened out of his wits beforehand, which doubtless caused his heart to fail. But let us turn our attention to the death of George Rowsell. That was also convenient for your mistress, was it not? And yet you tell me she had no hand in it.’

  ‘I swear to you she did not!’

  ‘How can you be so sure of that? You have told me she showed you the list of names she obtained from Poyntz – at sword-point, if your mistress is to be believed. Why then should she scruple to arrange for Rowsell’s death? A bag of gold and a word in the right quarter…’

  ‘My mistress had no need to hire anyone!’ cried Hannah, much incensed.

  ‘Oh? How do you know that?’

  ‘Because she planned to kill him herself!’

  ‘What!’

  She looked sullenly across at the viscount, resenting his persistence that made it necessary to tell him so much.

  ‘She planned to poison him that night, but by chance he became involved in the brawl. ‘Tis the truth!’ she added, seeing his look of disbelief. ‘I wish it were not so, for it has led my lady to believe that some divine spirit is aiding her, and thus she accepted Mrs Boreland’s invitation to go to Weald Hall. She did not think she could fail – and now Heaven only knows what has become of her.’

  ‘And Boreland is dead.’

  Hannah looked up from wiping her eyes.

  ‘And you blame my lady for that also?’

  He stood up and walked to the window.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly. ‘The coincidence is too marked to ignore.’

  The housekeeper stared at him for a moment, then gave way to her grief. She threw her apron over her face and cried unrestrainedly. Lord Davenham remained at the window, almost oblivious to the weeping figure behind him. After a while the tears subsided, and Hannah emerged from her apron, her face blotched and red, but composed.

  ‘Your pardon, sir. It – it is not my custom to – to …’

  ‘Would you like me to summon the maid?’

  ‘No, thank you. It will not be necessary.’

  ‘Then let us now work to find a way to help your mistress.’ He took a turn about the room, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘You say your mistress had a list of names – where it is now?’

  ‘I know not, sir. She may have hidden it here, or taken it with her to Weald Hall.’

  ‘You are sure Thurleigh’s men did not find it?

  ‘I am certain of that, my lord.’

  ‘Can you remember any of the names upon that list?’

  She shook her head. ‘I never read it, sir. The only name I know to be on the list, apart from those we have already mentioned, is Lord Thurleigh himself.’

  ‘And he is the most dangerous man of all.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I thought Madame de Sange to be in league with him, when in fact – the cunning little vixen!’

  ‘It seems to me, sir, that you do not approve of my mistress,’ observed Hannah, listening in growing indignation.

  ‘Approve! How should I approve of her becoming involved in something that is likely to get her killed?’ he saw the fear in her face and continued in a milder tone, ‘We must hope that your mistress is still safe, but if she should contact you again, you must come to me, immediately. If you will permit me, I will arrange for some of my own people to stay here until such time as Madame returns. You may trust them to protect you from any future unwelcome visitors. Also, you must persuade your mistress to let me help her, for I, too, have an interest in bringing about the downfall of my Lord Thurleigh.’

  ‘But if she does not contact me, how then shall we find her?’

  ‘I will set about the business this very day,’ replied Davenham, preparing to take his leave. ‘There’s little doubt that his lordship is already looking for your mistress, but we must hope that I find her first!’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Of threats and surprises

  During the next few days the viscount made discreet enquiries concerning Madame de Sange, but without success. He began to wonder if she had returned to France, until an unexpected visitor convinced him she was still in hiding in England. Lord Davenham entered his rooms one morning to find Lord Thurleigh idly perusing a news-sheet. Upon the viscount’s entrance, the marquis tossed aside the paper and stood up.

  ‘Ah, Davenham. You will forgive the intrusion, I am sure. Your man let me in.’ He paused, a faint unpleasant smile touching his lips as he observed the viscount’s look of displeasure. ‘A good fellow in many ways, I am sure, but perhaps you should turn him off. My own servants know that I will permit no one to enter beyond the hall if I am away from home. It is a rule they dare not disobey.’

  ‘Perhaps you have more need of such precaution,’ retorted Davenham, tossing aside his hat and beginning to strip off his gloves. ‘What can I do for you?’

  The marquis took out an elegant silver snuffbox.

  ‘I believe you have been making enquiries concerning a certain lady.’ He helped himself to a pinch of snuff. ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘What is that to you?’

  ‘My dear fellow, why so brusque?’ murmured my lord, looking pained. ‘My interest in the lady is not of an amorous nature. No. I am interested only in retrieving some property that has been – shall we say, lost? That is all. I have no other interest in the woman.’

  ‘I am sorry, I cannot help you.’

  ‘But you did visit the lady’s house recently, did you not?’

  ‘Only to find you had been there before me.’ The viscount watched his visitor carefully. ‘You seem to have made quite an impression upon the staff. Very few now remain.’

  The marquis inclined his head. ‘Thank you. That was my intention. It did not, however, help me to find what I am looking for.’

  ‘I realize that. You would not otherwise be here.’ Davenham looked across the room, holding Thurleigh’s cold grey eyes with his own straight gaze. ‘Do you know what happened to Madame de Sange when she left Weald Hall? Where did she go?’

&
nbsp; The marquis shrugged. ‘She disappeared. Have you spoken to Boreland’s widow?’

  ‘She refuses all callers.’

  ‘How wise,’ Thurleigh murmured. ‘And should I be similarly reticent? It is my way, I know, and yet …’ He hesitated briefly before continuing, ‘I can tell you that Madame de Sange left Weald Hall on Christmas night – through a window, I believe.’ Again the sneering smile was in evidence. ‘It proves my point about servants – most of them will be indiscreet, at a price.’

  ‘And just what did you learn – at a price?’

  ‘That the lady escaped from a locked room by way of an open window. A little careless of Boreland, would you not agree, to overlook such a possibility? The servants were sent out to bring her back. Hounds were used, I understand.’ He observed the tightening of the viscount’s jaw and shook his head slightly. ‘The orders were that she should be taken alive. However, she had an accomplice waiting in the woods, and they rode off, never to be seen again. It had crossed my mind that you, my lord Davenham, might have been that accomplice.’

  ‘I?’ cried the viscount, surprised, ‘Why should you think that?’

  ‘I had thought – but no, I can see that you knew nothing of this.’

  ‘Perhaps the lady has returned to France.’

  ‘I doubt that. I have had the ports watched since I learned of her escape. There has been no word from there. And would she leave the country without her devoted servant, who waits still at Knight’s Bridge? No. She is still in England somewhere. I shall find her, never doubt it, and I should very much prefer to do so without interference.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  The marquis picked up his hat and gloves, and turned to smile coldly upon the viscount.

  ‘Merely a warning. I do not look kindly upon those who stand in my way. If you should have news of Madame de Sange, it would be wise for you to inform me of it.’

  ‘What is it that you want from the lady, Thurleigh? It must be a thing of great importance to make you come to me for help.’

  A shadow of annoyance passed over the marquis’s usually impassive countenance, but it was gone in an instant and he replied coolly.

  ‘You mistake, Davenham. I did not come here to ask for your help, merely to offer you a little advice. The jade is not worth your attention. ‘Twould be a great pity if you were to risk your very existence for a common thief.’

  The marquis left the apartment without another word. Despite his outward calm, my lord Thurleigh was greatly vexed by Elinor’s disappearance. He knew that Boreland had failed to recover the ruby brooch, but had relied upon his assurances that it was only a matter of time before he found Elinor de Sange, and with her, the jewel.

  The news of Boreland’s death had come as a most unpleasant surprise. While the ruby was out of his hands there was always the possibility that its secret might be discovered, even though he knew how cleverly it had been concealed. And if news of it should ever reach Leicester House! His plans depended upon the continued trust of the Princess of Wales; with her help he hoped to spirit the young princes out of Town, but all his planning would come to nought if it was discovered that he had supported the Stuart in ‘forty-five. His painstaking arrangements were very near completion: to make his move too early would greatly increase the chances of failure, yet if he delayed he knew there was a risk that the ruby could betray him. However, my lord was ever a gambler and he had always trusted to his luck. He would bide his time.

  He entered Thurleigh House just as his wife was descending the wide staircase to the hall. At the sight of her husband she hesitated, eyes widening in surprise, then with a little cry of delight she hurried down the stairs towards him, her hands held out in greeting and a tantalising smile upon her painted lips.

  ‘Fie on you, my lord! I was told you would not be back before the dinner hour, and now I have made arrangements to amuse myself until then.’ She gave him her hands to kiss, which service he performed dutifully as she continued to talk. ‘Shall I cancel my coach, sir? ‘Tis only a courtesy call to Lady Upton, and can easily be put off.’

  ‘No need for that,’ drawled the marquis, letting go of her fingers.

  My lady’s green eyes narrowed at his indifference, but her smile remained fixed and she followed him into the library, saying in a caressing tone. ‘Then I promise you I will be as quick as possible. You will be home for dinner tonight? I am glad, for we have seen so little of each other of late, my lord.’ She carefully closed the door and stood against it, eyeing the marquis speculatively. ‘Did your business go well this morning sir? I – I understand you are trying to trace a certain – lady?’

  Thurleigh’s piercing gaze came to rest upon his wife. ‘How the devil did you know that?’

  ‘One hears these things,’ she said vaguely. ‘Have you had any success in finding her?’

  ‘No, damnation. The chit’s vanished.’ Again that searching look. ‘Why are you so interested, my dear Margaret? Jealous?’

  My lady laughed and disclaimed, but her husband did not fail to note the tell-tale flush that crept into her cheek.

  ‘I wish you would tell me why you want this woman, Thurleigh,’ she said softly. ‘It is possible that I might be able to help you.’

  Her green eyes taunted him as they had always done, and he felt the stirring of desire as she moved closer, a provocative smile curling the corners of her mouth. With an oath Thurleigh pulled her to him and kissed her savagely, but not before he has seen the flash of triumph in her eyes. As he let her go he gave a cruel laugh.

  ‘Do you think I don’t know your tricks by now, beloved wife? What’s your interest in Elinor de Sange?’

  ‘None, I swear it, save to help you, my lord.’

  ‘Is it to help me that you bed every man that comes your way?’ The marquis noted her angry flush, and the way her lips were pressed together to hold back the retort he knew she wanted to make, the taunt that his pox-ridden body could no longer give her pleasure. His lip curled. ‘Such restraint, my dear. I admire you for it, but it will not persuade me to tell you anything more than you already know.’ He forced his painful joints to walk across the room without limping and he opened the door. ‘Your carriage will be waiting, my love. You had best be going, for you know how I dislike my horses to be kept standing.’

  My lady glared at him, but without deigning to reply she swept out of the room, venting her wrath upon the hapless footman waiting to hand her into the coach.

  * * * *

  The year advanced. Spring sunshine tempted travellers back onto the roads. Lord and Lady Hartworth, who had been in London all winter, left town to spend a few months at Hart Chase, their principal seat near Huntingdon, while many of those who remained in the capital welcomed back their friends and acquaintances. Still Madame de Sange’s house at Knight’s Bridge remained shut up.

  The viscount stayed in Town, dividing his time between trying to discover where Elinor de Sange might be, and observing the movements of my lord Thurleigh. In neither quarter could he have boasted of any great success, although his lordship’s activities provided him with some diversion for his thoughts. Davenham noted that the marquis had renewed his acquaintance with Lord Thomas. Under normal circumstances, the viscount would have given the matter scarcely a thought, but his close scrutiny of the marquis made him more acutely aware of his actions and it seemed that Thurleigh was deliberately cultivating the fellow’s friendship.

  A casual word of enquiry elicited the information that Lord Thomas was a relative newcomer to the court, a man of moderate means, with a small estate in Derbyshire, and that he had recently been appointed Lord of the Bedchamber. Interesting, thought Davenham, but hardly suspicious. Much more intriguing were the frequent visits of my lord’s groom to the squalid drinking houses of Holborn and St Giles. Davenham learned of these forays from one of his own servants whom he had at one time set to watch the Thurleigh household. The young footman was devoted to his master, quick-witted and eager to please so that when
, having executed an errand in the City, he had spotted Lord Thurleigh’s man making his way towards one of the more iniquitous quarters of the capital, he had promptly followed him and reported his findings to his master. The viscount was at first inclined to dismiss the incident, but when subsequent observation proved that the fellow made regular excursions to such haunts he began to feel uneasy. The marquis prided himself upon the relative sobriety of his servants, and he was well-known as a harsh master. Surely his head groom would not risk offending such an employer, or did he perhaps have his master’s approval? An interesting point, but although Davenham watched the marquis closely during the following weeks, he was no nearer to answering the question when he received a summons from his father to join him at Hart Chase.

  * * * *

  The viscount was greeted warmly by Fletton, my lord’s butler, who informed him in a fatherly way that Lord Hartworth had gone out but that my lady was at home, and in her room, should he wish her to be informed of his arrival.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ said the viscount, giving up his greatcoat to a hovering footman, ‘I’ll announce myself. See to my bags, will you, Fletton?’

  Lord Davenham took the stairs two at a time and made his way to his mother’s apartments on the second floor. He knocked softly upon the door, but did not wait for an answer before entering. The Countess was reclining upon a sofa by the window, her head resting upon a cushion and her eyes closed. One slender hand rested across her fashionable apron, an exquisite creation embroidered with dainty silver flowers, while the other arm hung down at her side, the book that had slipped from her fingers lying open upon the floor. The viscount trod quietly across the room and stooped to pick up the tome, dropping a kiss upon the lady’s forehead as he did so. Lady Hartworth opened her eyes and, observing her visitor, gave a stifled shriek and sat up, throwing out her arms to wrap her son in a fond embrace.

  ‘Jonathan! You wicked boy – how dare you come in upon me unannounced!’

  Grinning, he returned her embrace. ‘How dare you to look so charming when you are asleep, Mama! You are more beautiful each time I see you.’