The Countess

by Catherine Coulter

  “Certainly that is possible,” he said, but he continued to frown. Then suddenly, he turned to my husband, and he laughed. “I believe, Lawrence, that this lovely old bed was used by one of your distant ancestors to entertain his neighbor ladies. Perhaps he even kept a mistress here in this tower, hidden from his wife. That is speculation, of course.”

  “It could have been Leyland Lyndhurst,” Lawrence said, “my great-grandfather. His reputation doesn’t bear much examination. He lived a very long life and was said to pass to the hereafter with a smile on his lips.”

  He turned to me. “I’ll show you a portrait of him, Andy. You will tell me if he has the look of the scourge of the neighborhood.”

  Lord Waverleigh turned and walked out of the tower room. I heard his footsteps retreating down those narrow steep stairs. I looked down once more to where Caroline had struck against the stone. I shuddered.

  “Come, Andy,” Lawrence said from just behind me. “This is a place that makes my soul wither, despite all the amusing and very wicked theories about that damned bed.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. “I’m so very sorry, sir,” I said, and took his arm. “About Caroline.” Any opinions I had about a former earl and his use of the tower for illicit affaires I kept behind my teeth.

  John followed us down the tower stairs.

  After luncheon, George and I went to the stables. Rucker saddled Small Bess even as John strode up, and blinked when he saw me. “I thought you were with Judith and Miss Gillbank. Or with Miss Crislock. She was looking for you, I believe.”

  “I will see all of them later. First, I want to clear my head.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “What is in your head that needs to be cleared out?”

  I thought of the damnable letters, of that seed of fear that had a firm hold on me now. I shook my head.

  We left Small Bess standing there in the stable yard while I went with John to fetch Tempest from the paddock.

  He saw his master, then he saw me. I would swear that he didn’t know what to do. He stood there, looking from one of us to the other, shaking his great head.

  John called out, “Enough, you big lout. I am your master, not this young chit here who cannot even manage to keep her dog’s loyalty.”

  “Unkind,” I said. “It appears I am getting my revenge on you.”

  George came trotting over, tail up high, barking with each step. On the way he picked up a stick.

  Tempest snorted and trotted to where we stood at the fence.

  “Throw the stick for George,” John said as he went through the gate to put the bridle over Tempest’s head. “A good long way. He needs to run off some of the mountains of food he’s eating.”

  I did, hurling it a good twenty feet away. “It will help,” I said, shading my eyes against the sun’s glare. “I fear Lady Waverleigh is feeding him whenever he happens to trot into her vicinity. She dotes on him as much as she does her husband.”

  I watched John saddle Tempest, threw George’s stick again, fought with him when he brought it back to me, and forgot for at least five minutes that something was very wrong here at Devbridge Manor. As much as I wanted to discount everything my father had written, which wasn’t hardly a thing, truth be told, something wasn’t right.

  When finally we were both mounted, George had decided to remain. He was thoroughly enjoying himself playing with Jasper. Jasper could throw the stick much farther, and thus George could leap and trot and sniff flowers and bushes, and have a great time before he had to carry the stick back, as the rules of the game dictated. The exercise would also keep him from dropping onto his fat stomach and dying from gluttony.

  Small Bess reared and twisted her head about when I settled myself on her back. I immediately leaned forward and stroked her neck. “It’s all right, my pretty girl. What’s wrong?”

  “She wants to play. I have seen her do that occasionally since she arrived.”

  “Do you know why your uncle bought her, John?”

  “No. Perhaps he had made up his mind to go to London and find himself a wife. He bought Small Bess on speculation.”

  “I must remember to ask him. Do you think perhaps she is a racing horse in disguise?”

  “That I doubt very much.”

  Lawrence had never given me the impression that he had come to London in search of a wife. He had made me believe that his feelings for me had hit him immediately and strongly. He had not expected such feelings, particularly at his age. But still it felt to me as though he had brought Small Bess here specifically for me. I shook my head. None of it made any sense.

  I looked over at John astride Tempest. He was a magnificent rider, at one with that huge stallion. He was looking off into the distance. I wished he would look over at me, but he didn’t. No, I thought, no. I had to stop this. I didn’t want John anywhere near me. At the same time I wanted to weep because he was near me. I didn’t want to let him out of my sight. It just wouldn’t do. I thought of my husband. I owed him my complete loyalty. I thought of my fear of men, buried so deep, that I knew it would be a part of me my entire life. I knew I would never escape from it, nor did I want to. Young men like John, who was big and strong, were dangerous, they would hurt and destroy and humiliate. No matter what John made me feel, I would never forget that. If I ever did, I was a fool, just as my mother had been. No, what was there, so very deep inside me, was the truth, and a warning, and I would always heed both of them.

  When we were walking through a rather densely wooded glade, side by side, John said, “Why do you think Caroline would want to speak to you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, realizing that here we were discussing the spirit of my husband’s long-dead second wife. But oddly enough, it didn’t seem strange. “What I don’t understand is why she hasn’t spoken to me. I have certainly given her many opportunities to communicate with me. I have gone in and out of that room many times now.”

  “Are you really certain you want to hear what she has to say?”

  “Oh, yes. It must be something important, at least to her. Possibly, she wants me to assure her that I will take care of Judith, that I am not a mean and petty stepmother. I have even said that out loud whenever I go into her music room, but there is nothing there. Perhaps she has come to the belief that I won’t hurt her daughter. Perhaps she even trusts me now.”

  “Judith has always been a happy child. My uncle pays her little attention, but she doesn’t seem to suffer from it. She has Miss Gillbank, and that lady seems to love her very much. I predict she will be a beauty in about five years. What do you think?”

  “She will break hearts at a fine clip,” I said.

  He leaned forward to pat Tempest’s neck. Small Bess nickered and took a step sideways. I shifted my weight, and she calmed. “What Lord Waverleigh said about the Black Chamber. What do you think that means?”

  “I don’t want to think about it. It scares me to my toes.”

  He said, musing aloud, “That the evil in the room lives now, lives right here at Devbridge Manor, lives right here under our noses.” He shook his head. “I think his lordship is being fanciful.”

  “If he isn’t, then it would mean that the evil that lives here with us committed a horrible crime in that room. What crime could it be?”

  He looked away from me, toward a distant copse of maple trees. “I’ve thought about it. There are no recorded foul deeds in the recent past. Ah, there are some excellent jumps over this field.” He arched a black brow at me.

  I laughed, and dug my heels into Small Bess’s sides. She snorted, pulling violently on my reins. I patted her again, but now I was frowning. “What’s wrong, my girl?”

  John was riding ahead of me. I saw Tempest sail through the air, clearing the wooden fence with a good three feet to spare. The ground was muddy, covered with debris, but Tempest had had no problem clearing all of it. He looked magnificent. “Let’s outdo him, Bess.”

  I leaned forward, pressing myself against her neck. She tr
embled beneath me, then ran faster than I could imagine. Closer and closer we came to the fence. I sat up, readying Bess and myself, and locked my legs around her belly.

  She screamed and jumped, both at the same time.

  I flattened myself against Bess’s neck and grabbed the reins close to her mouth, but she was maddened, out of control, and I was nothing but something she wanted off her back.

  In midair, I could feel Bess twist under me, trying her best to throw me. I knew, too, in that second that she would never be able to keep her balance. She cleared the fence, barely, but just before her hooves touched the slippery mud on the other side of the fence, she gave a great cry of anger and pain, and tore the reins from my hands. As she fell toward the fallen trees just beyond the mud, I kicked free and jumped, landing on my back on a slight incline. I rolled over and over, grabbing at grass, trying to stop. I hit my head on something, felt a searing pain lash all the way to my skull.

  Before everything went black, I heard Small Bess’s cry of pain as she fell. Then I didn’t hear anything at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to come back because I knew I wouldn’t like it. I felt arms around me, John’s arms. I knew the feel of him. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek, fast, pounding, and I opened my eyes because I knew he must be afraid for me. He was blurred, and I blinked several times.

  I tried to raise my hand, but I couldn’t. “You’re there, aren’t you?”

  He took my hand and gently pressed it back to my side. “Yes, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. How do you feel?”

  I felt his arms tighten around me. I felt no instant shudder of fear. I felt rather safe, cherished. It was a nice feeling. “Oh, dear,” I whispered, “let me up—now. Quickly.”

  He let go of me instantly. I jerked up, twisted about, and retched into the daffodils beside me.

  When my head was hanging down, and I wanted to die my head hurt so badly, I felt his arms come around me again. He wiped his handkerchief over my mouth, then gently eased me back into his arms.

  “Is that better now?”

  “Yes, but my head is going to fall off next, that or split open. That would be a mess. I wish you could make it all stop. I don’t like this at all.”

  “I don’t blame you. Just lie still and listen to me. You don’t have to think or anything else, just listen and don’t move. That’s right. Just breathe slowly, lightly. Good. Now, when I brought Tempest down, I turned to see Small Bess corkscrew in midair, then you flying over her head. What happened? Did she slip? How did she manage to throw you? If you wish, if you feel like it, you can talk now.”

  My eyes flew open as memory flooded back. I tried to sit up, but he held me down.

  “No, don’t move. What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, God, there is something very wrong, John. Small Bess was maddened, frantic, and I couldn’t calm her. Please, go see to her.”

  “In a moment. First, can you move your legs?”

  I could. I didn’t want to, but I could and I did, because I knew he’d keep after me until I proved that I could.

  He was running his hands over my ribs, then my arms. I allowed it. I had no choice. Also, to my surprise, I still wasn’t terrified to my toes, and he was the same as he’d always been—too big, too strong, and too dangerous. You could just look at him and know he was dangerous. And he had held me close and safe against him.

  “All right, I’ll check her now,” he said. He eased me down on the ground and pulled off his riding jacket. He folded it and gently eased it under my head. “If you move, I won’t be pleased with you.”

  “Prepare to be pleased with me, then,” I whispered, and he smiled.

  Some minutes later, he pulled me again gently into his arms. He began rocking me very slowly, very gently.

  “How is she?”

  “I don’t think we will have to put her down. Rucker is very good with injuries, as is my valet, Boynton. Her right foreleg appears badly sprained. And there are some bad cuts on her back. We’ll see.”

  “I can help,” I said. “I spent many hours in the stable at Deerfield Hall learning how to care for the horses. Oh, God, I can’t allow her to be put down. It must have been my fault. I must have done something—”

  He spoke slowly, his voice measured. “It wasn’t your fault. Be quiet now.”

  I tried to focus on his face until it was clear to me. He looked grim. He also looked furious.

  “No,” I said. “I didn’t cram her, did I, John?”

  “No, of course not. You’re much too good a rider.” He drew a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was utterly emotionless. “I told you there are some bad cuts on her back. Well, I discovered this under her saddle.”

  In his hand he held a large, circular band of wire. Attached to the wire were long barbs, bent downward. The barbs were covered with blood, Small Bess’s blood.

  I just lay there and gaped at that horrible thing he carefully held in his hand. “No, that isn’t possible, it just isn’t. Who would do such a thing?”

  “Someone placed this beneath her saddle. That someone knew it would madden her. Every time you shifted in the saddle, every time you tightened your legs, the barbs dug into her back. When you readied for her to jump, Small Bess had to be in great pain, and that’s why she tried as hard as she could to get you off her back. I would like to know who this someone was. I want to kill him.”

  “I get to kill him first, the damnable bastard. Trying to hurt me is one thing, but doing this to my horse, my God, I will shoot the person who did this.”

  His arms tightened, as if in surprise. Then he grinned down at me. “We will have to see about that,” he said, then grew quiet for a moment. “You know, Andy, if I had been the one riding her, the barbs would have gone in very deeply, probably all the way. Since you are much smaller, it took longer and it took more movement from you. But it happened. She was enraged, maddened by the time you jumped. The pain must have been very bad indeed.”

  I swallowed. “If I hadn’t gone over her head, she would have fallen on me.”

  “Very probably.”

  My father’s letter was clear in my mind. I said, turning my face into his shirt, breathing in his warm scent, “A warning, yet another warning to me. That someone who did this could never be certain that it would end up with me dead. The same thing with the old woman and that damned knife of yours telling me that I would pay for all of it, whatever that means. Warnings, both of them. But why?”

  “I don’t know. But now I’m really mad, and I fully intend to find out. The first thing is for you to go back to London, to your grandfather’s house.”

  It sounded like a fine plan to me. It sounded smart, logical. It sounded safe. It sounded like entering a nunnery and locking big iron doors behind me. Nothing could hurt me there. But, there would never be any answers. Worse, perhaps I would never be safe, even hidden in my nunnery. I said, my voice miserable, “No, I can’t leave. Don’t you see? If I leave, then we will never know who is doing this and why. Perhaps even if I did leave, this unknown person would still want to hurt me and would come after me. John, no, don’t argue with me. You know I’m right. I won’t be safe until I find out who is doing this to me. Listen, I’m not unprotected. I bought a derringer from Mr. Forrester. I know how to shoot it. I’m not a complete idiot. It’s fastened to a strap around my thigh.”

  His arms tensed, then slowly eased again. I hadn’t convinced him. But that made sense, he was a man. “Everything you said is true, but there is still a very big problem. We won’t know where the next threat will come from.”

  “I will try not to be alone anymore. I have my derringer. I know how to shoot. Give me a villain, and I’ll put a hole through him. Normally George is with me. George makes a lot of noise. He is good protection.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, but I knew that, like Grandfather, he was probably just holding silent until he came up with arguments. “Do you feel
well enough to return home now?”

  “Yes.”

  I watched him shrug back into his riding jacket and place the barbed circle of wire into his pocket.

  “Try to hold on to me.” He lifted me in his arms and held me high. I was clutching his shirt, my face pressed against his neck. He carried me to Tempest, who was eating some lovely goose grass some fifteen feet away.

  “Hang on, Andy. Once we get on his back, I’m going to seat you in front of me.”

  “I can do it.”

  “Good girl.” I don’t know how he managed it, but he got both of us up on Tempest’s back. He eased me in front of him. The pain was so ghastly that I couldn’t keep still even with my fist stuffed into my mouth.

  “All right,” he said close to my cheek. “It’s all right. Just breathe slowly, lightly. That’s it. I’ll hold you, and we’ll go very slowly.” He simply eased me crossways on the saddle, pulled me close to his chest, and managed Tempest’s reins with one hand. “Hold onto me as best you can. Keep your eyes shut. It should help with any dizziness. If you need to vomit again, tell me. Try not to worry about Small Bess. I’ll send Rucker out to get her as soon as we return.”

  “I’m glad I was with you,” I said into his neck. “I fear my derringer wouldn’t have been much help this time. I would have just expired there by the daffodils.”

  “I know you, Andy. You would have managed something.”

  “Do you really mean that or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then he cursed. “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again. Forget I did that, all right?”

  But I wouldn’t. His mouth felt nice and warm against my skin.

  “Yes, I meant what I said. You have grit, Andy, and a brain. You would have managed something. Now, what do you want to tell my uncle?”

  I thought of my father’s letter, safely locked away in my Italianate letter box. I had said nothing to Lawrence about that. I hadn’t said anything to anyone. Why? Because anyone could be the someone who was doing this. The only thing was, I couldn’t think of a single reason for anyone, particularly my husband, to want to harm me. I had never done anything to him or to anyone else living in this house. Lawrence hadn’t even known me. He hadn’t had to marry me once he had met me. He had not been forced to return to Grandfather’s house after that first condolence visit. It made no sense. I said, “No, I don’t want anyone to know anything. Let the person who is responsible just wonder what we know or don’t know about any of this.”