by Joan Smith
When he handed the sketchbook to me, I said, “Why did you not go to Larson’s rout party?”
“Why would I? I knew you weren’t going.”
“Oh, is that why?” I asked. I could feel the little smile peeping out, but I couldn’t suppress it.
“Whither thou goest,” he said. “That’s actually the lady’s line, isn’t it? In Shakespeare.”
“In the Bible, Acton.”
“I have trouble telling them apart. Some folk think Shakespeare didn’t write all those plays. I wonder if he wrote the Bible instead. Forgive me. I’m babbling. You do know I love you, Kate?”
“Yes, I do now.”
“Good.” He looked at me, as if waiting for something, then whistled for his mount, hopped into the saddle, waved and galloped off. I didn’t realize until he was gone that he had been waiting for me to tell him I loved him too.
I was too dazed by the charm of my first real lover to go home immediately. I leaned against the oak tree, smiling and reliving those few magical moments, and didn’t give a single thought to Lorna. As the internal fire subsided I became chilly and decided I had recovered sufficiently to go inside.
Balky met me at the door. “She hasn’t stirred out this afternoon,” he said, bringing me to earth with a thud. “Anyone lurking about the park?”
With my mind full of Acton, it took me a moment to realize he was talking about someone lurking about to meet Lorna. “No, no one,” I said.
“Stands to reason she’s been slipping out to meet someone. Why else would she do it?”
“Yes, very likely. She wouldn’t go back to the Abbey.”
“She got locked out that first time and had to break the window to get in as I locked the door before turning in. That’s the answer to that mystery. I’ll go after her if she slips out again.”
“Good. Let me know, Balky.” It seemed Acton had converted me to his view of our guest. I consoled myself that it was not all his doing. I had been halfway there already.
Chapter Seventeen
Apparently Mama had not seen Acton in the park, for when I went in she glanced up from her stitching and said only, “Your outing did you good, Kate. You have got a bit of colour in your cheeks. It’s time to change for dinner. Lorna hasn’t been down all afternoon. You might ask her if she will be joining us.”
Mama had already changed into her new blue sarsenet with the lace insert in the bodice. I assumed she was hoping for a visit from Beamer that evening as she wouldn’t have worn it just for ourselves.
When I stopped at Lorna’s room, she was still in bed, flipping through my new copy of La Belle Assemblée that I had lent her. “How the fashions have changed since I was a girl,” she said, shaking her head in dismay at a picture of an Empire style gown. “I don’t care much for this new style. It doesn’t show the figure. Do you know, Katie, I haven’t had a new gown for twenty years? Not one made especially for me, I mean. Just cast-offs or outmoded gowns from ladies I worked for. I altered them to fit me. Once I made myself quite a stunning mantle from an old velvet window hanging. Dark green, it was. I wanted a fur collar for it so badly — “ She gave a rueful smile. I felt in my bones she was telling the truth and despite all, I felt sorry for her.
“Did you get your fur collar?” I asked.
The rueful smile grew into a wicked grin. “You bet your life I did! ‘Twas only catskin, but I dyed it green and wore it to a party. The sort of party I attended, it was considered the height of fashion.”
“How did you dye it?” I asked.
“Plant leaves, herbs and things — you know. The French make wide use of them.”
“I wager you looked fine. I must change for dinner. Will you be joining us, Lorna?”
“Not tonight. I still have a touch of the headache.” She raised both hands and massaged her temples.
She looked worried, and no wonder. I felt that whoever she was, she really had had a difficult time in the past. I doubt I would have been so ingenious as to make myself a gown from cast-offs, and dye a catskin fur to decorate it. You can’t help admiring a woman with that kind of pluck.
“I’ll tell Balky to bring wine with your dinner. It’ll help you sleep.” As she didn’t quiz me about Acton’s visit, I assumed she hadn’t seen him.
As I was turning to leave, she said, “Have you heard if Acton’s back from London yet, Katie?”
“Yes, he’s back.”
She looked even more worried at that. “I wonder what chicanery he’s been up to to rob me of my money,” she said, not angrily but resignedly, as if it were no more than she expected. “Let me know if you hear anything, Katie.” I nodded, feeling like a Judas.
Over dinner I told Mama what she had said about making her gowns, and Mama smiled sadly. “I know. So resourceful. She has a hundred stories like that. She can’t be making them all up, Kate. And it’s just what Lorna would do, you know. It’s half the reason I believe — I mean know — that she is Lorna.”
“She should write a book. A picaresque tale. They’re popular at the moment.”
Mama laughed. “Wouldn’t the Actons love that! Serve them right, only no publisher would touch it.”
“The authoress would have to be an anonymous lady.”
Beamer did call after dinner, so the new blue gown was not worn in vain. We chatted for a while, mostly he related the local gossip he knew we would be interested in. Mama and I listened as eagerly to reports of new bonnets and local spats and Mrs. Roman’s falling and spraining her ankle as if they were of world-shattering importance. When they went to the card table, I went upstairs to visit Lorna, but she was asleep. My earlier joy at Acton’s lovemaking kept me entertained for the first half hour.
I went to my room and relived every minute of that meeting. Then doubts began to seep in. He hadn’t explained how our guest knew about Lorna’s receiving that Fragonard for her sixteenth birthday. He had changed the subject very adroitly when I mentioned it. He had no explanation about the little pearl ring either. It was such an uneven battle — all the resources of a noble family with their wealth and connections against one poor woman with no friends in the whole country but me and Mama.
And today Acton’s lovemaking had eroded my support. Was that why he had done it? It was hard to believe, perhaps because I didn’t want to believe it. Acton was a famous flirt. How many girls had he kissed as he had kissed me that afternoon? Had I, in my innocence and naiveté, mistaken a flirtation for love? He said he loved me, but there had been no mention of marriage.
There was no denying that from the moment of Lorna’s arrival the whole Acton clan had been angry as hornets, and determined not to recognize her. They hadn’t been so angry over the other claimants. Of course none of them had had a leg to stand on. It was pretty clear they would do anything to be rid of her. When cutting us off from our friends didn’t work, had Acton decided to change my mind in this new way?
Unhappy with my thoughts, I went down to the library. I would write to Sukey. As she and her husband were on holiday in the Lake District I would have to get her address from Acton. She would have no sharper memory of Lady Lorna than I, as we were close to the same age, but I wrote and told her all about it anyway.
Very likely she had already heard one version from Lady Mary. Sukey and I always shared everything. I knew she was enceinte a month before her own family knew it. I told her about sneaking into the Abbey with Lorna, but didn’t mention that afternoon’s meeting in the park with Acton. The aunts, really only Lady Mary, would hardly welcome me into the family, but Sukey would be delighted. So why did I not want to tell her? Was it because I didn’t believe Acton was serious myself?
It was a long letter. It was after half past ten when I finished it. I joined Mama and Beamer for tea before he left and was happy to see they were still on good terms. He mentioned calling the next afternoon.
“At least Bernie is sticking by us,” Mama said, after he left. “I can’t convince him Lorna is Lorna, but he admits there is a possibil
ity, and admires me for sticking by my friend.”
It seemed Mama had firmed up her belief in her guest. “I’m happy to hear it.”
“He tells me that Chalmers fellow who was staying at the inn in Kelvedon has left. Left a few days ago. It seems it was just a coincidence, his landing in the same day as Lorna.”
I noticed Balky was grimacing and tossing his head at me as he came to take away the tea tray. Mama went to bed happier that night than she had been for some days. I stayed behind a moment to see what Balky wanted.
“She’s slipping out again,” he whispered, peering over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening.
“How? Where is she?”
“She’s still in her room, but she went to the kitchen asking for a cup of tea. Why didn’t she just ring for it, as per usual? I’ll tell you why, Missie. Because she snatched Cook’s key ring from the hook by the sink while she was there. I saw her take it, but didn’t say anything. Now why would she be wanting it unless it was to get back in without breaking another window? Didn’t I tell you ‘twas her that got out before and had to smash the window to get in? I mean to watch and see which way she goes. She can’t use the back door. Cook’s in the kitchen making bread. I figure she’ll go out the west side door nearer the spinney. I’ll take that side. I could use a lookout on t’other side door. Not the library door, I doubt she’ll use it again so soon. The door at the end of the corridor. Are you game? If not, just say the word and I’ll get Teddy. I thought you might want to keep it in the family, like.” Teddy is Balky’s nephew, a young footman here. He is not yet considered ‘family.’
“I’ll go,” I said at once. My conscience would feel better if we could prove that Lorna was up to some trick, prove she was not Lady Lorna, I mean. “She won’t leave before Mama stops in to say goodnight to her. I’ll wait until Mama comes out of her room.”
We waited, listening at the bottom of the staircase, until we heard Mama going to her own room. “What do we do if we see her, Balky?”
“Follow her and see where she goes, who she meets. If it’s possible, I’d like to get close enough to see who it is, and hear what they say, but I won’t risk them seeing me.”
“All right. But we’ll let her get back inside tonight. I don’t want to do anything rash until I’ve talked it over with Mama. We’ll meet back here after to discuss it. Don’t lock the door after you. I have no key.”
Then I got my older, dark wrap and took up my vigil outside the east door while Balky took the west side. A pale sliver of moon and one lone star in the blackness above were our only illumination. All the lights were extinguished on this side of the house. The only sound was the sibilant whisper of branches stirring in the breeze, that carried the sweet scent of roses from Mama’s rose garden outside the library.
We hadn’t long to wait. Lorna soon came slipping quietly out. She fooled us as to which door she would use. From my hiding spot behind a stand of hornbeam at the east door I heard the slight rattle of the knob turning. My heart hammered as the door opened silently and a dark figure wrapped in what looked like a blanket slipped out. She stopped, listened and looked all around before hurrying off into the shadows. Although she had come out the door at the end of the east corridor, she turned left when she reached the rear of the house. This suggested she was indeed heading to the spinney, as Balky thought. Very likely she used the east door as it was farthest from the stairway to the kitchen. She wouldn’t want to risk Cook or Balky hearing her. I followed behind her, looking over my shoulder, hoping to spot Balky and signal him to follow.
She moved so swiftly I couldn’t wait to notify Balky. She didn’t just hurry to the spinney, she ran like a gazelle, trampling Cook’s herb garden as she went, all efforts at keeping quiet abandoned once she was away from the house. In minutes she disappeared into the darkness of the spinney. It was virtually impossible to follow her without making any noise. The rustle of dead leaves underfoot and protruding bushes pulling at my skirt sounded as loud as thunder to me as I crept forward, into the impenetrable darkness. I had to slow to a crawl to move forward at all without alerting her. Vision was nearly zero, but when I heard the telltale rustling sound behind me I knew it would be Balky and was glad for it.
I edged slowly forward into the centre of the spinney, peering through branches, listening, trying to locate her by sound. All was quiet ahead of me. I feared I had lost her, but soon I heard whispering voices. I still couldn’t see them, but I knew they were close by, beside the brook. Its babbling made hearing actual words impossible, but one of them spoke in a man’s voice.
Suddenly the voices fell silent, and for a moment I heard only the gurgling of the brook. Then the most amazing, unexpected thing happened. A shot rang out, shattering the silence. I ducked down, heart pounding, limbs trembling, wondering if the shot was meant for me. It was difficult to know, in the echoing aftermath, just where it came from but it seemed to come from behind me, and it was close by. The sound bounced off trees, and of course I was so shocked I wasn’t capable of rational thought.
Self-preservation is the strongest instinct. My instinct was to run home to safety, but I was afraid to move. If I was the target, the sound of my escape would tell them where I was. I remained frozen to the very spot, while scurrying footsteps and raised voices echoed from the area where Lorna had been standing, by the brook. Of course no one was shooting at me. No one knew I was there.
“Stop her!” a voice called out. I knew that voice. There was no mistaking Acton’s arrogant bellow.
It was still echoing in my ears when Lorna went tearing past me, making for Oak Hill, ventre à terre, like a spooked nag. I had wondered before if she was afraid to leave the house. Now I knew I was right — and so was she. To venture out in daylight might well have been the end of her and her claim. She might have been murdered by her brother, Lord Acton.
Chapter Eighteen
I hid, crouching behind a stand of thorn bushes while people ran past me. Two men, one of them was certainly Acton. The other looked like his half-brother, Taylor. Any suspicions of Taylor I had entertained prior to that moment involved his possibly working with Lorna, giving her information about the past.
Now it seemed he was in league with Acton against her, Acton wasn’t chasing him. He was in the lead, with Taylor following. How did they know she would be here, in the spinney tonight? Had Taylor set up a rendezvous with her, pretending to help her, to give Acton the chance to murder her without suspicion? No one would suppose Acton had been in our spinney late at night. The shot might have been put down to poachers, who did occasionally help themselves to a rabbit or woodcock.
When I was sure Acton and Taylor were out of the spinney, I headed slowly, as quietly as I could, for home. Balky nearly scared the life out of me when he reached out from behind a tree and stopped me by grabbing my arm. I leapt a foot into the air and squealed.
“It’s only me, Missie,” he said softly. “Hold still now till we see if they heard you.”
“No, they’ve gone. You didn’t see them? They didn’t come this way?”
“I stumbled over a fallen log in my rush to get out, and was stunned for a minute.” When he began rubbing his head I noticed a trickle of blood coming from under the brim of his hat. “If they came this way, I missed them.”
“Are you all right, Balky?”
“ ‘Twas the shock of it that left me senseless for a minute but I’m fine now.”
We waited, peering into the shadows, but after a few moments it was clear no one else was coming out of the spinney in this direction. “Pity the poachers scared her off,” Balky said. “I didn’t see who she was meeting. Did you catch a glimpse of him at all?”
Poachers, just what everyone would think of course. We began walking towards home. “No, it was a man — two men. I heard them, but I couldn’t see him. Didn’t you hear someone call to stop her?”
“I thought I heard a shout.”
“Acton was there, and Taylor.”
&nbs
p; “Ah, following her, as we were ourselves. P’raps they got a glimpse of the fellow she was meeting before they spotted him and took off. “
I didn’t see who had actually fired the shot, but in my mind the only doubt was whether it had been Acton or Taylor acting as his agent. My mind was too confused to make sense of it. I wanted time and solitude to think it over, to decide what to do about accusing Lord Acton of attempted murder.
It would be perfectly futile to report it and immoral not to. It would be my word against Acton’s. Balky hadn’t even seen him, or heard his call to “Stop her.” The constable would speak to Acton, who would have either some facile explanation or more likely an alibi supplied by Lady Mary and half a dozen servants. And if I could prove that he was there, he had the excuse that he had been following her, as had Balky and I. He would easily convince them he was innocent, but he would not convince me that he had not gone there with the intention of killing Lady Lorna.
If she were just another nuisance claimant like the others he could surely expose her without killing her. She had to be the real Lady Lorna; he had attempted to kill his own sister, and I could think of no reason so likely for his killing her as wanting to keep her dowry. He might hint mysteriously at some family shame, but what was shame to the mighty noble families?
Lady Caroline Lamb’s infamous pursuit of Lord Byron hadn’t cast the Melbournes into eclipse. A little scandal was expected of them. The Prince Regent and his brothers were by-words for licentious behaviour. No, it was the money. Acton must be deep into dun territory, perhaps even in danger of losing the Abbey. If he had not made poor investments, then he must have atrocious gambling debts.
There was no sign of Lorna when we reached home. I tiptoed upstairs and heard her moving quietly about her room, so I knew she had got home safely. When I came back down I offered to help Balky clean up his bruise but he said he could handle it himself. It didn’t look serious so I didn’t insist. Before going up to bed I convinced him to say nothing to Mama about our night’s doings.
