“Please enter,” she said, standing quickly and checking herself to make sure she was presentable.
A much older man, at least thirty years her senior, poked his grey head around the door. He smiled and asked, “May I come in, my wife?”
She curtsied and did a quick nod of her head as a sign of respect for her husband, “Please do.”
He ambled in and made a direct line to a wingback chair and sat down with a sigh. The short jaunt up a flight of stairs and down a hallway was tiring and he sat for some time before talking. It was decorum to wait for her husband to speak first. She continued to stand until he finally motioned for her to sit down.
“My dear wife,” he began, “last night Lord Giles came to me and invited us to attend his ball this coming Friday night. You charmed him last evening and he hoped we would accept his invitation.”
Alissa’s heart fluttered in her breast, but her expression didn’t betray her inner thoughts. To do otherwise would have betrayed her excitement at the possibility of seeing Lord Giles once more.
She answered, however, with wifely modesty and deference to her husband’s authority.
“I leave it to you, my husband, to decide if we should attend.”
The man was watching his wife’s face intently. Lady Alissa sensed something amiss in her husband’s demeanor. She knew there was another order of this business, but what was it?
“Lord Giles has a minor request. Would you oblige him, my wife?” her husband asked, never taking his eyes from hers.
A sudden tightness gripped her stomach, as though some form of doom marched toward her.
“And what would his request be?” she asked, her expression perplexed.
A flash of hesitation flicked across her husband’s face. She noted it, but it quickly evaporated. “Lord Giles asks that My Lady wear the charming dress from last evening, and not change one aspect of her accoutrements including the diamond and ruby brooch I presented to you on our wedding day.”
She blanched. Slowly, the blood drained from her face. Glad to be sitting, she quickly righted herself internally and smiled coolly. Her nostrils flaring ever so imperceptibly, she gave an appreciable portrayal of a woman touched by indignation.
“I find his manner crude. Am I but a courtesan, that I may be entreated to follow any man’s request regarding my wardrobe?”
“Not any man’s,” Sir William said silkily. “I, your husband and the Master of this house, also wish to see you dressed as you were last night.”
The verbal slap stung her. She maintained her composure, simply due to her unwillingness to lose the little dignity she was allowed as a woman. However, with no recourse to his demand, Lady Alissa stayed mute and motionless on her vanity stool. Her husband gained his feet and shuffled toward her bedroom door leaving without another word.
Not a woman lacking in her own talents, Lady Alissa waited for the door’s latch to catch. To ask her maid about the brooch, would bring suspicion upon herself. The loss of the heirloom would bring questions. If she’d been seen last night in the arms of Lord Giles, most likely she’d be beaten by her husband, with no reproach from society or the law.
“My Lady?” came her maid’s voice from the accompanying room used as a dressing closet.
Lady Alissa turned to see the girl standing in the dressing room door with a folded piece of paper in her hand. “This came for you by messenger a moment ago.”
She handed what appeared to be a letter to her mistress.
With shaking hands, Lady Alissa opened the letter. She asked the maid to please give her privacy. The girl dutifully left the same way as Sir William. Alone, Alissa read the words written on the paper. It was unsigned and simply stated that the author knew about her compromising conduct the night before with a certain man of high station, and if she wanted her brooch back, she would need to send a manuscript from her husband’s library in exchange.
The letter listed and described a play by Shakespeare, which Lady Alissa recognized. She was to meet the person at the old stone folly at midnight the next evening.
Nothing indicated who the author might be, but by the handwriting and the weight of the paper, she knew it came from someone of means and education. Lady Alissa took the letter over to her fireplace and laid it on the coals, watching as it caught fire and burned completely. Any trace of her misconduct must be destroyed. Her only recourse was to make the meeting. A blackmailer was a parasite that was never satiated. She worked out a plan.
Late the following evening, once the house was asleep, she dressed in clothing she’d removed from the laundry. They were men’s britches, a coarse shirt of muslin, hose for her legs and a thick wool jacket the farm laborers used during cold weather. Shoes were more difficult to find. As a lady, her footwear was limited, but she settled on her riding boots as an alternative to silk slippers.
She studied herself in the looking glass and frowned. If she was to succeed, she needed to rough herself up a bit. It came to her. Grabbing some of the debris and soot from the fireplace grate, she covered her face completely. The grey and black from the coal she rubbed under her eyes and up through her auburn hair provided an excellent disguise as a dirty farm youth.
Winding her hair into a tight bun on the top of her head, she secured it with a pin and topped it off with an old greasy looking hat. Going over to her bed, she picked up a revolver, checked that all was as it should be and stuffed it into one of the deep pockets of her jacket. She slung onto her back a quiver full of arrows and a bow. Securing them so they couldn’t move, she used a slender rope taken from the stables and lowered herself down from her window and onto the ground below.
The night was chilly and Lady Alissa decided to be at the folly long before whoever else might arrive. She’d taken the precaution with her maid to leave her alone all night, claiming to have a headache and wishing to not be disturbed at any cost. Lord William never troubled her with any of her wifely duties. He kept to his room at the other end of the house and was always asleep each night right after supper.
Open fields under a bright starlit sky helped to clear her mind. She rehearsed her plan to secure her brooch. The manuscript requested was concealed in her tight bodice under double wrappings encircling her breasts to hide her natural female shape.
Arriving at the folly, she considered the layout of the structure and its surroundings. With quick, decisive movements, she pulled herself up into a thick fir tree that acted as a spatial counterbalance to the architecture. Since it was only about eleven o’clock, she would have to wait.
Grateful the wind was still, she spent a restless hour before catching sounds of human movement approaching across the hard ground. Her heart beat hard within her chest. It was a man’s stride, she was sure. Soon he was visible to her and she watched to see if he was alone.
First, he inspected the folly and finding no one, he came to stand on the small portion of land along the building’s front end overlooking the lake. Lady Alissa watched him for some time, assessing his movements for signs of weakness. He looked tall and well built. She kept a sharp outlook for other helpers he might have brought along as backup.
The man turned from gazing at the water, and in an instant, the moonlight shown down on his face. She recognized him. It was Lord Giles himself. Thinking this might be useful, she prepared herself mentally for their first foray.
In a voice she tried to disguise as a man’s by talking lower and more forcefully, she said, “I’m here to collect my lady’s brooch.”
Lord Giles spun around trying to locate the direction of the call. He peered into the darkness. Nothing stirred.
“Who’s there?” he commanded.
She watched his face with the moonlight illuminating his handsome features. It was a pity, she thought, that she might have to kill him.
“Drop the brooch or I’ll drop you,” she bluffed. Her voice sounding tougher and more masculine each time she spoke. A tiny grin hovered at the corners of her mouth. She was enjoying herself.
On the ground, Farthingay turned to face the talking tree. A huge, roguish smile spread across his face. “Come down here and take it from me,” he called back. Settling both of his hands on his hips in a jaunty gesture of defiance, he stood waiting for an answer.
Lady Alissa had hung her quiver on a secure branch so as to have it ready. With the bow in her grasp, she gently pulled its string, setting an arrow and took aim at the feather in Farthingay’s hat. A twinkle in her eye, she gripped the arrow and pulled it back letting it fly. It hissed and sped through the air lifting Farthingay’s hat from his head and landing it effortlessly upon the lake’s calm, tranquil surface where it stayed afloat.
The gentleman looked completely undone. His arms first flung themselves up to his naked head and dropped like limp, empty flour sacks to his sides.
“What in Hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at the tree.
“Show me the brooch,” the tree demanded and I won’t put the next one in your fleeing arse.”
Lady Alissa barely suppressed a giggle at her growing command of the masculine vernacular.
Lord Giles stood dumbstruck. He reached into an inner recess of his coat and produced the brooch, which he showed to the tree. “See it?”
“Put it on the folly’s pediment. You’ll have to climb a bit, but you look fit…enough.” Lady Alissa quietly readied another arrow and took aim.
Farthingay didn’t move. He watched the tree. “Have you the manuscript?”
“I don’t deal with blackmailers,” Lady Alissa stated and let loose the second arrow. It seared through the air right beside Farthingay’s left ear. “I’ll happily pierce it for you the next time.”
Being bested, his appreciation for Lady Alissa’s champion was apparent. He climbed the stone masonry and sat the brooch upon the pediment’s cornice. Jumping down, he performed a deep bow to the tree.
“Better be on your way, Farthingay,” Lady Alissa instructed. “I’m nearly out of arrows, but I’ve saved one last means of instruction, if you test me. I promise it will warm your walk home tonight.”
She couldn’t help appreciating his good looks and his good humor at his own loss. As he disappeared into the night and his footsteps became lost to her ears, she decided to wait for at least another hour before decamping from her tree.
Finally, feeling stiff from the cold, she gingerly let herself down from the fir tree. Being careful to stay out of the moonlight, she made her way to the folly and climbed the stonework with ease. Right where she’d instructed Farthingay to put it, lay the brooch. She tucked it quickly into her pocket and secured the button. It was time to hurry home.
As she ascended the hillside with the majestic, stone Georgian house in view, Alissa took in her surroundings. Her husband’s family had owned the estate for less than one hundred years, a short period of time for the English gentry. Her mother had made the match with Sir William, telling Alissa how lucky she was to be marrying a wealthy man with a title. Alissa’s family was far wealthier in comparison to Sir William; however, her parents had too many daughters for which to find husbands, making for scant marital opportunities for the young ladies further down the line in age. Alissa, being the last one of twelve, had to accept whatever was thrown her way. Her only brother would inherit everything leaving marriage the only alternative for her and her sisters.
Catching a movement in the trees off to her left, Lady Alissa turned around in time to see a man running straight for her. Lord Giles had her in less than a second and together they fell to the ground. She struggled and tried to free herself from his grasp, but he held her far too tightly. Her hat fell from her head and the pinned-up auburn hair slipped its restraints, falling around her face.
“You?” he said and laughed. “I should spank your backend for all the trouble you’ve given me tonight.”
Alissa continued to fight against him. She freed one of her arms and pulled his hair and slapped his face with her hand.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asked in between slaps and fending off her hair pulling.
“My brother,” she grunted, trying to use her knees to bludgeon his lower extremities.
He twisted and flipped her over on her back. With more strength at his command, he easily managed to hold both her wrists with one of his own hands and sit on her using his legs to quell her flailing.
“I’m going to sit here until you calm down. Once you’re done trying to kill me, we can talk. Let me know when you’re ready,” he said.
Alissa was furious. A few more savage attempts at freeing herself were dealt out, but soon she lay still, yet refusing to look him in the face.
“I hate you,” was all she said.
“I don’t hate you,” he replied. “In fact, I think I love you.”
Alissa huffed at this ridiculous revelation.
“I haven’t a farthing to my name and, I’m pretty sure, neither does your husband…any longer,” Lord Giles said.
With this last remark, he owned Alissa’s full attention. “What do you mean?” she demanded.
“If I get up, do you promise to sit still and not run off?”
She considered him for a moment. “I’ll listen, but with great reservation. The confessions of a common thief hold little weight.”
“Why do you think you’re even out here tonight?” he asked. “Your doddering husband asked me to steal the brooch from you last night. He intends to be rid of you, but not before he commands a payment from your brother to keep quiet about your adulterous behavior.”
Alissa was stunned. She quickly remembered, however, her husband’s unusual behavior the morning he told her about Lord Giles’ ball. His lack of interest in her and how most likely he’d only married her for her dowry also lent weight to what Farthingay had said. But to throw her out and mangle her name by accusing her of adultery was beyond anything she’d ever conceived of.
“Are you going to take the brooch from me?” she asked in a haughty voice.
Lord Giles took her hand and held it. He pulled her into an upright position and stared at her gloved hand for a long time. At last, he said, “No. I don’t want it. It’s yours. I want to apologize for last night. The minute I laid eyes on you at the dance, I wanted you, not the damn brooch. That’s why I kissed you. I only went along with this whole charade because I hoped he’d toss you out and I could have you for myself.”
Lady Alissa, for the second time that night, realized how attractive Farthingay was. She removed her hand gently from his and sighed at her own confusing situation.
“I’m not sure what to do next. I have a husband who wants to be rid of me, even to the tune of having me declared an adulterer, and I have a blackguard who says he loves me.” She turned to Farthingay and their eyes met. He leaned over and tenderly took her chin, lifting it.
“May I?”
Something inside her chest lifted with the thrill of his closeness. She gave one nod and he leaned in, softly kissing her. In truth, it had only been the second time she’d been kissed by a man. The first time belonged to him, as well.
They stayed that way for a long time and when they broke, he gently held her chin as he addressed her.
“Any woman who can shoot like you do, climb a tree, and nearly beat me within an inch of my life is, in my eyes, a treasure beyond gold. I think you owe Sir William his brooch, my lady, and, if you’re up for it, I need a partner to come with me to Barbados. I’ve got a business there, and I need the talents of a quick mind and an even quicker hand such as yours. What do you say?”
Lady Alissa smiled broadly at his proposal. Never had any man deemed to treat her with this kind of consideration. Her options were sadly unequal. Staying with Sir William would, sooner or later, end up in a complete disaster for her. Marriage for a woman in the 1700’s was fraught with abuse, both physical and mental, the wife lacking in legal protection and dependent on the man’s notion of integrity and morality. In England, wives were still sold in the public market, if the
ir husbands had tired of them or found another woman they wished to take up with.
Any insinuations by Lord William that Alissa was a woman of loose morals allowed him to put her away, and her brother and her family would turn their backs on her forever. She would be socially and financially ruined. The decision of whether to go or not with Farthingay was a moot point.
“Why are you going to Barbados?” she asked him.
“There’s a nice trade in other nation’s resources, legally questionable tis true, but one in which a man might make a secure fortune if he’s up to the task. I want to save my inheritance and my own estate. This business is dangerous, but highly profitable.”
“I’m not giving Sir William his brooch back,” Alissa said. “And for that matter, I’m no longer Lady Alissa Allen. I’ve no hope for a divorce, but if you’re serious about your offer, I’m willing to take you up on it.”
She offered her hand to Farthingay. He took it, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.
“You are my Lady Farthingay and once we make our fortune, I’ll sue Parliament for your divorce. Till that time, if you’ll have me, I want you as my wife, not as my mistress.”
Alissa grabbed Farthingay in a very unladylike hug around his neck and kissed him fully on the mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, laughing at her forwardness.
“You’re a minx and I’m damned lucky to have you.”
Two years later, Lady Alissa Allen inherited all of Sir William’s property upon his death. She’d been considered abducted since the night of her disappearance from her husband’s home. A deputy minister found her living in Barbados and apprised her of the fortune waiting for her in England. She left the island one week later along with a companion and chaperone who presented himself for her voyage, a man of means and title, Lord Giles Farthingay.
Once back in England, the Allen estate was sold and its contents auctioned. The new Lady Alissa Farthingay, along with her husband, Lord Giles lived many more happy years together, at his home, Greenwoods Abbey. Their children thrived and their love survived old age. Shakespeare’s foul copies, once used as barter between greedy Allen and gallant Farthingay, stayed safe and secure for many centuries to come within their family’s magnificent library.
Pudding, Poison & Pie (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 4
