The Lady Fan Series: Books 1-3 (Sapere Books Boxset Editions)

by Elizabeth Bailey

  The creature was shrieking incoherently and somewhere in the periphery of her mind Phoebe thought she must be overheard and dared to hope for succour. It came sooner than she could have expected. Above the sounds of Tamasine’s raucous screeching and the hammering blows, Phoebe made out running footsteps. Then voices sounded.

  “I’ll grab the madwoman off, Tom, while you help the lady.”

  “Get her round the breadbasket, Ben,” came another eager voice.

  Only half recognizing both voices were youthful, Phoebe’s hopes soared. Next moment, the shrieking intensified, but the blows ceased and she was released from the weight of the body against her back.

  “Quick, ma’am, get up!”

  Daring to open her eyes, Phoebe found a young face, flushed with excitement, upside down near her own, blonde hair falling about it.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, and with the boy’s help, scrambled to her feet as speedily as she could manage for the discomforts of her maltreated body.

  “Get her away, Tom, quick!” shrieked the other boy and Phoebe turned to find the youngster tight against Tamasine Roy’s back, his arms clamped about her middle as he was being flung this way and that while the girl heaved herself around in an attempt to throw him off.

  Her shrieking protests were unintelligible, but Phoebe had no time to take in more for her youthful rescuer grabbed her hand and started to drag her towards the set of stone steps where she had first seen the girl Tamasine standing.

  “Come away, ma’am, quick, while Ben has her fast.”

  Phoebe hurried to obey, allowing the boy to pull her rapidly towards the steps, although she could not resist looking back to where the other was still hanging on grimly as he and Tamasine Roy shunted about the lawn.

  “Someone’s coming!” said her companion, halting abruptly at the foot of the steps.

  Thundering footsteps could be heard and Phoebe looked towards them and found several running figures, a tall black man in livery taking the lead.

  “Miss Tam! Miss Tam!” Reaching the struggling pair, he seized the girl bodily, pulling her against himself and holding her forcibly in place. “Stop, Miss Tam! You have Hemp now, Miss Tam. Stop it now, you hear me?”

  Released, the other boy came belting across to where Phoebe and her escort stood transfixed, yelling out, “Don’t stand there! Run!”

  Thus adjured, the boy holding Phoebe’s hand set off up the steps. “Come on, ma’am! No time to lose.”

  Phoebe nearly stumbled as she climbed the stairs, and quickly found herself supported on her other side by the second boy.

  “Steady, ma’am. Tom, slow down a bit.”

  Finding herself at the top of the flight, Phoebe paused, catching her breath. Unable to resist looking back, she saw the girl Tamasine Roy was now held by the footman and another man, who were bearing her, still screaming, towards the house, accompanied by two women, the whole cavalcade creating a cacophony fit to be heard all over the county.

  With all danger past and safe in the care of Lady Polbrook and her daughter-in-law, Phoebe found herself gripped by the shock of her experience. She felt battered and bruised, and her head was swimming a trifle as if she must surely swoon. She could not stop shaking, and the glass thrust into her hand by Lord Francis threatened to spill its liquid into her lap.

  “Give it to me, my child,” came the dowager’s crisp tones and Phoebe was glad to relinquish the glass into the fingers that grasped it and held it to her lips. “Now take a sip.”

  “Is it brandy?”

  “After what you told us yesterday? It is port, child. Drink it.”

  “She would do better to drink a tisane and lie down for an hour,” suggested a voice Phoebe did not know.

  “Presently, Doctor Hathaway. There, that is better. Gently, my child.”

  Obedient to the pressure and the voice of command, Phoebe did as she was bid and the dreadful sensations began to leave her. In due course she found herself able to follow the gist of the conversation being carried on in lowered tones.

  “Lucky we were there,” one of the boys was saying, “or the madwoman might have killed the lady.”

  “Lady Phoebe, Ben, and what in the world can you mean?” came from Lady Fan.

  “The madwoman had her by the throat,” said the other boy.

  “And Lady Phoebe went down, and the madwoman kept on beating her until I grabbed her away.”

  “If we weren’t there, she would have beat her to death,” said the boy Tom, a ghoulish note in his voice that caused Phoebe to shudder.

  “Do be quiet, boys!” This was an authoritative tone from the man Lady Polbrook had called Doctor Hathaway. “What I wish to know is why the two of you were there at all.”

  There was a silence and Phoebe felt a change in the atmosphere. She pushed aside the glass once more at her lips and looked across to where the two blond boys stood, confronted by a tall man who bore a striking resemblance to Lady Fan. She had to speak.

  “Oh, pray don’t scold them, sir. I dread to think how I would have fared without their intervention.”

  Doctor Hathaway glanced at her, and she was relieved to note the good humour in his countenance. “My dear ma’am, if my sons were able to be of service to you, I am only too happy. But their presence at Willow Court still calls for explanation.”

  “We were following the madwoman,” said the boy she recalled as Ben.

  “Upon what occasion?”

  “Well, we saw her escaping.”

  “And we followed her into the woods,” disclosed Tom, who had led Phoebe from the grounds.

  Here Lady Fan intervened, and Phoebe was relieved to see merriment in her eyes. “It did not occur to either of you to raise the alarm, I collect?”

  Evidently not, from the anguished glance exchanged. The boy Ben frowned in furious thought for a moment, and then looked relieved as this exercise evidently rewarded him.

  “Well, if we’d wasted time going for help and hadn’t followed her, she might have got lost.”

  “Ah, I see. So you kept her in sight.”

  Ben brightened at this show of acceptance. “Yes, and when she came out again, that’s why we followed her to Willow Court, ’cause we were going to tell them where she’d been.”

  “Ingenious,” commented Lord Francis.

  Doctor Hathaway laughed out, and Phoebe felt acutely relieved. She could not bear to think the boys might be punished after what they had done for her.

  “Have another sip, child,” said the dowager, presenting the glass to Phoebe’s lips again.

  Phoebe shook her head. “I am feeling a deal recovered, if a little sore.”

  “I should think she is sore,” burst out Tom, looking round at his elders. “The madwoman beat her dreadfully, Auntilla.”

  “Yes, so you said.” Lady Fan crossed to the sofa, and Phoebe looked up into her concerned countenance. “Are you much hurt, my dear?”

  Phoebe let out a shaky breath. “I scarcely know. I feel a degree bruised.”

  “You will feel it more as the day wears on,” said Doctor Hathaway, coming to flank Lady Fan. “I can give you a salve, ma’am. I’m sure my sister will be happy to anoint your hurts.”

  “I should not dream of troubling you, ma’am.”

  Lady Fan smiled. “Then take the salve with you. I dare say your maid can do the business as well as I.”

  Scarcely had Phoebe agreed to this when the dowager’s maid appeared in the doorway. “Lord Bennifield, my lady.”

  Phoebe jumped violently, her eyes flying to Giles’s striking presence as he strode into the room and stopped short, blinking at the roomful of people.

  “Good God, I had not expected such a crowd!”

  His gaze swept the faces, settled for an instant on Lady Polbrook, and jerked back to Phoebe seated beside the dowager. Discomfort gathered in his handsome features and Phoebe’s pulse hammered furiously in her chest.

  “You are opportune, Giles,” said the dowager on the edge of a snap. “P
oor Phoebe here has been so unfortunate as to be the target of an attack.”

  Shock swept across his face. “What? An attack? How in the world —?”

  “Tamasine Roy tried to strangle her,” continued his grandmother, and Phoebe could not acquit her of relishing the pronouncement. “When that failed, she took to beating Phoebe nearly senseless.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Giles sank into a chair, kneading his brow with a fist. “Oh, my god!”

  Before anyone could say anything, the boy Tom suddenly spoke up, in a tone of bright innocence. “You’re the fellow who was meeting the madwoman in the woods.”

  For a moment Giles was tempted to repudiate the charge. But in the face of what had happened to Phoebe, denial was useless. The thing was blown. Willingly could he have thrown the lad through the window.

  “Well, Giles?”

  His grandmother’s tone was arctic and he winced. He dropped his hand and looked across at her. “Well, what, ma’am? Which accusation do you wish me to answer first?”

  “No one has yet accused you of anything. But since you ask, let us at once be clear. Are you, or are you not, betrothed to Tamasine Roy?”

  Shock swept over him. “How did you find out?”

  “Then it is true! Oh, Giles, how could you be so idiotic?”

  This was no answer, but to his relief, his aunt Ottilia stepped in. “I’m afraid it was Simeon Roy who betrayed you, Giles.”

  Fury lit in Giles’s chest. “That fellow! He has a deal to answer for.”

  His uncle cut in. “I dare say, but that does not explain your conduct.”

  “Which particular conduct are you citing, sir? It seems as if everything is my fault!”

  Relief came from an unexpected quarter.

  “Not everything, Giles. You cannot be held accountable for what the creature did to me.”

  Phoebe was actually smiling at him. He regarded her with wariness, belatedly hearing the brittle note underneath her words. The smile did not reach her eyes.

  He sighed, feeling suddenly weary. “Perhaps I am. I led her to believe in my sincerity, despite the realisation…”

  He broke off, recollecting his company. He had been within an ace of taking Phoebe into his confidence in the old way. He glanced about the room, discovering the presence of a stranger standing alongside two boys, one the tell-tale who had given him away. Sudden irritation erupted.

  “How in the world did you know I had been in the woods with Tamasine? Were you watching us?”

  “You may be thankful they were,” came snappily from Phoebe. “If they had not followed that creature, I would not have been rescued.”

  Had he not seen behind that spurious smile? The tone touched a raw nerve within him, a hurt he was unable to place. Restless, he stood up again.

  “Why in the world did you go there? What possessed you?”

  “Well, if you don’t know that, you are a bigger fool than I supposed.”

  “Children, children!” chided his aunt Ottilia.

  Giles paid no heed. “You had no right, Phoebe! What should take you to interfere?”

  Phoebe shot to her feet, and at the back of his mind Giles noted how unsteady she was. Her words overbore the thought. “If we are to talk of rights! What right had you to spurn me for a bedlamite? As for mine, I went to meet my rival, to fight for you, if you must know, being an even bigger fool than you! Little did I suppose I should meet her returning straight out of your arms.”

  “No such thing. I have more conduct than to take advantage of an innocent girl.”

  “Oh, indeed? Then I must have imagined it when Tamasine boasted of your kissing her.”

  “She did not. You are making it up.”

  Phoebe flung out a hand towards the two boys. “Ask them if I am making it up. And I daresay, if we were to put them on oath, they could readily bear witness to even worse conduct on your part.”

  Infuriated, and all too conscious of being in the wrong, Giles erupted. “That’s what you think of me, is it? Well, let me tell you —”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, be silent, the pair of you!”

  His grandmother’s snapping tone had the effect of cutting him off mid-sentence, and Giles retreated to the mantelpiece, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface there and keeping his gaze firmly away from the rest of the party. He heard the dowager speak again.

  “Phoebe, sit down, child. Don’t allow yourself to be goaded. It is undignified and unnecessary besides.” She paused briefly, and her tone altered. “I make you my apologies, Doctor Hathaway. This is a poor return for your assistance, and you are supposed to be on holiday.”

  A laugh from the guest drew Giles’s attention.

  “Make yourself easy, ma’am. Like my sister, I am inclined to enjoy a trifle of liveliness. Besides, I must hope our relationship may allow you to count us into the family and therefore no apology is called for.”

  “You must be off your head, Patrick,” said his uncle Francis. “Though that alone may qualify you, for the place is rapidly turning into as frantic a bedlam as Willow Court.”

  The words had hardly left his mouth when a sudden hammering sounded on the French windows. Startled, Giles looked across the room and, to his utter disgust and sorrow, saw Tamasine Roy outside, her fists beating the glass. Her pearly teeth were bared and the wild look at her lovely eyes had indeed a stamp of insanity.

  Pandemonium broke out in the parlour, and as one in a dream, Giles heard the reactions as he stared at the girl with whom he had believed himself in love, to whom he had pledged his life, his future.

  “Dear God, the wretch is back again!”

  “Pray don’t let her come near me!”

  “Whatever you do, Francis, don’t open the door!”

  “Uncle Fan, she’s going to break the window!”

  “For pity’s sake! Patrick, quick! We’ll go out the back way and seize her from there.”

  “We’ll come with you, Papa.”

  “No, stay here with Auntilla.”

  Giles watched bemused as his uncle and Doctor Hathaway hurried from the room, while the boys raced back to the French windows, swiftly followed by their aunt.

  “Ben! Tom! Come away at once! You’ll only make her worse.”

  Ottilia drew the two youths away from the window, where Tamasine had given over beating at the windows in favour of rattling the doors, incoherent sounds issuing from her mouth. Aghast, Giles remained riveted until his grandmother’s irate tones grated on his ear.

  “This only was needed! To be besieged in my own home by a lunatic.”

  A yearning for relief swept through Giles and he grasped at a random thought, catching at straws. “She is distraught.”

  “Distraught? The girl is demented! Can you still doubt it, Giles?”

  “I must, Grandmama, I have no choice.” He turned to his aunt. “You know about these things. Is it the grief? She is bereaved. The loss has driven her to this. I was near losing my mind when my mother died.”

  His aunt Ottilia laid a hand on his arm. “I wish I might agree with you, dear boy, but I cannot.”

  As of instinct, his eyes went next to Phoebe. Her gaze was fixed upon Tamasine, but as if she felt his regard, she turned. Giles received a shaft of something from those tell-tale eyes that bordered perilously on agony.

  “Your sufferings, Giles, were real. Tamasine Roy feels nothing for her guardian, nor for anyone, including you.”

  Wild with despair, he flung a hand towards the French windows. “What then do you call this?”

  A little gasping sigh escaped her. “I call it pitiful, Giles.”

  He was silenced, baffled by her abrupt change of face. Where was the righteous anger, the accusation? Her words crept back into his mind, and their meaning could not be gainsaid.

  A sudden flurry of activity outside the window attracted his attention. The two black servants had arrived on the scene just as his uncle Francis and Doctor Hathaway appeared. In seconds, Tamasine was c
aptured, the two footmen catching her between them so that she was lifted right off her feet, where she began to kick. There was a brief discussion and then Tamasine was borne away, still shrieking imprecations, her legs flailing.

  As the noise retreated, silence permeated the parlour so completely that Giles felt as if an aeon of time were passing. Into his head floated the words Tamasine had spoken, and the hideous truth of them made him utter aloud.

  “She did do it. She killed him. She pushed him down the stairs. The reckoning in revenge for her mother.”

  Despair gripped him, and the age-old cry of his childhood rose up as he turned to the one person who had always been able to offer him succour.

  “Grandmama, what am I to do?”

  Chapter 13

  “I knew there was more to be learned about this reckoning.”

  Ottilia moved restlessly to the window in the bedchamber. The sight of the remains of the snow, criss-crossed now with the footprints of many birds, reminded her of the first time she had seen Tamasine Roy. She sighed.

  “Poor little sugar princess.”

  Her brother’s measured tones reached her. “Compassion, Ottilia? For a murderess?”

  Ottilia looked across to where he was sitting at his ease upon the daybed, but Francis interrupted before she could speak.

  “We have yet to be certain the girl is indeed a murderess, Patrick. Believe me, if Tillie had been convinced by Giles’s words, she would have said so by this.”

  He was leaning against the mantel, as was his wont. The three of them had retired to the Fanshawe’s chamber as the only place likely to afford privacy, Sophie and Miss Mellis having returned from an outing to the shops in nearby Thrapston before the explosive events of the morning could be thoroughly thrashed out.

  Sybilla had despatched Phoebe on her way in her own carriage with her maid Venner in attendance to see the girl safely home, and was now closeted with Giles in her study. The boys, on pain of expulsion from any further involvement in the investigations, had been excluded from the conference. Ottilia did not doubt they would be up to some mischief, and guessed they were likely at Willow Court at this moment, trying to find out what had happened to the madwoman, as they insisted on calling Tamasine. She was guiltily aware that she had not drawn their father’s attention to this likelihood, in hopes something materially useful might be discovered from their explorations.