She stepped out of her chemise and climbed into the tub, lowering herself in the heated water. It felt glorious after the tension-filled afternoon. She leaned back and closed her eyes. For her, bathing was a soothing ritual, not merely a means to get clean. She lay there for a few more minutes, aware that Sadie hadn’t moved from the fireplace.
“You’re looking at me like I’ve grown two heads. What’s wrong?”
“May I be bold?”
“I expect you to be bold. I’d hate a frightened rabbit who scurried to a corner whenever I raised my voice or did something the ton would not approve. Please speak up.”
“When were your last courses?”
She chewed her lower lip as she thought. “I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”
Sadie ventured closer. “Your clothes need to be let out, you’ve been nauseous each morning, and your body is . . . rounder.”
A frisson of alarm meandered down her spine. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not sure, but I believe you may be increasing.”
Gwen clutched the sides of the tub and stared at the maid. “I cannot be.”
She thought back to the two occasions she and John had shared a bed. The first time, they’d used a French letter. But John had mentioned they were not always reliable and other precautions must also be taken. The last time she and John made love was the night he’d rescued her from the tower. They had not used a French letter. And she distinctly remembered saying her courses were due.
They had not come.
Joy, thick and sweet, spread through her body. Could it be true? Was she going to be a mother? Would a sweet babe soon be in her arms? She hugged herself, her smile wide.
Oh Lord. Oh Lord.
She’d longed for this from the day she’d said her marriage lines.
She sat up straight and narrowed her eyes.
John will not be pleased.
Their recent conversation about inherited madness soured her happiness. His beliefs were absurd. Never had she heard anyone else espouse such nonsense. But he was intransigent, and she was not positive about her condition.
She rose from the bath, stepped out, and took the towel from Sadie. Drying in front of the fire, she pondered her options. She could tell him now or wait and try to disabuse him of his long-held views.
She’d wait, at least until she was sure.
~ ~ ~
John moved his fish around his plate and finally allowed his food to be removed. Dining alone did not improve the appetite. When he’d inquired about the lateness of his wife to enter the dining room, he’d been told she had taken dinner in her room. She was tired and needed rest. She planned to retire after the meal.
She isn’t tired. She’s angry. At me.
He finished his meat course and waved away dessert. He took his port to the library and stared into the fireplace. Was he wrong?
His thoughts turned back to the terrible days right after Mother attacked Miranda. Jeremy had been beside himself. They’d put about a story that Mother was ill to explain why she was absent from the activities of the Season.
John had been convinced the most humane place for her would be the dower house. Jeremy had agreed.
Maybe we were wrong.
He sipped his port and stretched his legs in front of the fire.
Taking Mother with them to Woodhaven Abbey would not be possible. Her agitation today seemed to come after she’d talked of the place, her uncle’s suicide, and her cousin’s apparent fury over not being Grandmother’s heir. Joseph, like him, had been a younger son, landless and probably penniless, thrilled to be allowed to live on an unentailed family property through his mother’s generosity. When he died, his son, Sean, would have expected to remain and perhaps inherit one day. Instead, he’d had to occupy a tenant’s cottage and move his wife and daughters there.
John didn’t need the deed to Woodhaven, but he would feel much better if it were in his hands. Perhaps Gwen was right. His brother might have it with his papers in London. He would write to him as soon as they returned to Yorkshire.
Mother’s revelations had given him much to think about. He now knew why Elizabeth lived in a tenant cottage. Elizabeth might hold a grudge, thinking she should be the one living in the abbey. But he refused to believe tiny, delicate Elizabeth Addersley had moved the boulder that propped open the tower door or started a fire in the east wing. Her involvement was as unlikely as Lady Livesley’s.
John shoved a lock of hair out of his eyes. Gwen’s discovery in the book on abbeys and Mama’s information told them about Woodhaven’s former occupants. But he and Gwen still were no closer to finding out who or why someone had set the fire and locked Gwen in the old tower.
He finished his port and went up to his room. Gwen’s was across from his, and he longed to go in and lay out everything they had discovered to see what they might be overlooking. But no light shone from under her door, and their disagreement over becoming parents still rankled. Instead, he performed his ablutions. Perhaps they could discuss the new information on their way home tomorrow. He’d decided to accompany her. Nothing more was to be found here.
He lay in the dark for a long time thinking about their argument.
Am I wrong about how madness develops? Were the people who were adamant about their theories wrong?
If so, they were very persuasive.
He had much to think about, but one thing he knew. Gwen was the most important person in his life.
He did not want to make her unhappy.
Chapter 32
John was pleased Gwen was ready early to return home. He was not pleased when he discovered she wished to ride only with her maid.
Since Gwen had not been down for breakfast, Sadie delivered the news to him. She said her mistress was not feeling well and did not wish to make conversation along the way.
He waited for Gwen as she made her way to the morning room for a cup of tea. “You’re not well? Do you wish to stay another day?”
“No, I wish to go home.”
“If you are unwell, I’ll hire a more comfortable coach.”
“I’m fine, John. Don’t fuss.”
The Longley coach was in London with Jeremy. The remaining conveyances on the estate were not comfortable for travel.
He left straight away for the village and returned with a large hired coach drawn by four horses. When it was time to leave, Gwen seemed surprised, but did not bring up the matter.
Once she was seated in the roomy coach with a blanket wrapped around her legs, John closed the door and mounted his horse. They would stop at an inn before nightfall, and he would rent two rooms. He would brook no nonsense about continuing the trip into the night.
The weather held, and the journey went smoothly. They arrived home just after noon the next day.
Gwen alighted, and she and her maid disappeared up the stairs. Resigned to the fact he would probably spend another night dining alone, John headed for his room and dedicated his time to removing his travel dirt.
“Are you planning any other visitations, sir?” His valet was peering in the armoire as if the clothes therein had shrunk into the wooden panels.
“No, Ranaleigh. I am going to remain here in the country and dedicate myself to my sheep. I want the woolmongers to get a good supply this spring. On the morrow, I plan to go into town and see about hiring men to raze the remains of the east wing.”
“Razing, sir? Do you not mean restoring?”
“I want the damn thing torn down. It has a bad history. We do not need the extra space. The west wing is functional and will meet our needs for many years to come.”
Lionel entered the room. “Mr. Trevelyan was here earlier and would like to have a word with you. Some of your sheep have gone missing. He fears theft.”
&nb
sp; John rubbed his forehead. Another piece of bad luck? “Send the groom to tell Mr. Trevelyan I’ll stop by tomorrow morning.” No need to make haste if the sheep were gone.
He wanted to apprise Gwen about this latest turn of events, but she’d made it quite clear she did not wish to speak to him. In fact, she had assumed he would remain at Longley or would remove himself to London to search for his property deed.
She was ailing, and it worried him. She had bypassed breakfast at the inn, and he’d seen Sadie carrying a basin from Gwen’s room. He did not want to be apart from her until she was well.
After meeting with Trevelyan, he’d go to the village and ask the surgeon to pay his wife a visit. Gwen told him she didn’t want a doctor, but that was his self-sufficient, stubborn wife talking. The visit wouldn’t hurt, and it might help.
He changed his clothes and went down to his study. A pile of mail awaited his attention. The letter on top bore Livesley’s seal. John perused the words and threw the letter down on the desk.
He’d offered to buy Woodhaven Abbey—again. The price was fair. Perhaps he should consider it.
It is not for sale.
After penning his response, he summoned the groom. “When you deliver my message to Mr. Trevelyan, you can take this message to Lord Livesley.”
Where did the baron get the notion he might want to sell? It was odd in the extreme. He went back to his correspondence. The second letter named a price for a herd of cattle he was attempting to buy, and the third was from his brother. He set aside the business correspondence and addressed himself to Jeremy’s letter. Most of the note was about furnishings Jeremy might send on to Woodhaven, but a comment at the end intrigued him. “When you are here next, remind me to tell you about Dr. Gill.” Dr. Gill had been his advisor when he was searching for a suitable place for Mama. As he recalled, Jeremy had not cared for the good doctor.
He set the letter aside for a response. He needed to quiz Jeremy about the property deed, and also to bring him up to date on what he’d learned about the Addersleys.
Not having Gwen to talk to gnawed at him.
I will not be the first to break the silence between us.
But it pained him not to have his best friend at hand. He trusted her opinions. Their only disagreement was about children, but their opinions were so diverse on that subject they may as well have a wall between them.
~ ~ ~
Gwen awoke in darkness. Her back ached, but her stomach had settled. She got up and lit a candle, noting a pile of biscuits next to a fresh pitcher of water. She chose one, found it stayed down, and ate another. Soon the pile was gone, and while she felt immensely better, she was still famished.
Restless, she put on her robe and padded out into the hall, intending to poke around in the kitchen larder. She jerked her head up in response to a muted thud that seemed to come from the floor above. It couldn’t be one of their pets. Marmot had taken to sleeping in front of the fire in the kitchen, and Romeo had become John’s cat.
At least John has someone to warm his bed.
Shrugging off a flash of uneasiness, she lifted her chin and her candle, then moved slowly up the staircase. Another thump startled her, drawing her eyes down the dark hallway. The passageway between the two wings was still bricked in, but she had not been up here since the day they first inspected the empty rooms.
A draft tickled her bare neck as she paused on the landing. Glancing toward the east wing, she stilled. Several of the bricks had been removed, enough for someone to fit through. Had workmen forgotten to seal this corridor? She was sure John had inspected all the connecting areas after the fire and found them to be intact.
Perhaps it is the ghost of Joseph Addersley up to some mischief.
Nervous laughter nearly burst from her mouth, but she quelled it. She should show more compassion for what had been a family tragedy. But her mirth was due to her absolute belief there were no such things as ghosts. Whoever had removed the barrier was of this world, not the next.
And it doesn’t scare me one whit.
A muted woman’s voice carried in the silence, and a man answered. Gwen crept down the hall, stopping in front of the nursery door. One of the maids must be having an assignation. But why here and not in her own room on the floor above?
She crept forward, her ear to the door. The woman pleaded with the man. “Do not do this, I beg of you.”
“’Tis for you that I do it.”
“And for yourself. Wait until your father gets a response. Surely there will be incentive to sell now that the sheep have been removed. No need for more accidents.”
Accidents? Sheep?
Gwen stiffened and stepped back, hoping she hadn’t been heard. Warring with the need to learn more and cognizant of the fact she needed to remove herself from discovery, she slowly backed away.
This was no assignation.
Worse, why were they in the room above her bedchamber? Were they planning another fire?
Nervous, and thinking of the babe she might be carrying, she fled back down the hall. Someone cursed behind her.
Bootsteps sounded as someone grabbed her around the waist, while the woman took the candle from her hand. She tried to shriek as a gloved hand closed over her mouth, and she was dragged back into the unused room.
“What are you going to do with her?” the woman asked.
“I don’t know. But it is damn unfortunate she heard us. Go back to the east wing and get a rope. Hurry.”
Gwen slanted a glance at the woman as she fled the room.
Elizabeth Addersley.
The man in front of her was even more of a shock. It was Geoffrey, the younger son of Lord and Lady Livesley.
Chapter 33
John put down his book and cocked his head. The wind had picked up, and the scream he’d heard must have been from a window not closed all the way. He got up and reached behind the drapes. No, the window was latched, and he felt no draft.
He peered at the cat curled up in Gwen’s chair. It hadn’t stirred. The sound must not have come from an animal, or the cat would have raised its head. An uneasy feeling twitched down his spine.
Something made that noise.
He carefully opened Gwen’s door and peeked inside. The bed hangings were drawn. He tiptoed into the room and drew one aside. Gwen was not there.
Alarmed, he ran back into his room, put on his boots, and went into the hall. A sound, perhaps mice, but more like a scuffle came from overhead. He looked up and tried to remember what was in the room. Nursery. Schoolroom. Bedchambers. Until those rooms were ready for use, they probably still had families of mice. He must remember to take the cat up there.
Where was Gwen?
Had she gone to the kitchen for a snack? He might not have heard her, engrossed as he’d been in his book. Another sound, more like footsteps, made him look up. Why would she be up on the next floor in the dead of night.
Anxiety turned to fear as he ran to the stairs and up to the next floor. A tiny light shone from somewhere—probably under a closed door—and he stopped to still his heart.
“Gwen? What are you doing up here?”
Someone swore, but the voice was not Gwen’s. What in blazes was going on? He burst through the door, and his heart nearly stopped. Someone held Gwen’s arms behind her back and had a hand over her mouth.
He took a step forward.
“Stop. Do not come closer.” Gwen’s muffled cry pierced his soul as Lord Geoffrey, Livesley’s younger son, twisted her arm behind her back.
Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. John stopped, his heart thudding like a brace of horses. He could see no weapon, but the light from the candle set on the floor within a few feet of Gwen’s nightwear made it difficult to see, and he couldn’t take a chance with her safety.
“Let
her go immediately.”
“I think not.” Geoffrey’s hand pressed more firmly over Gwen’s mouth, preventing her from speaking.
“What do you want?”
“Is it not obvious? I am a Hawksbury, and this land, by rights, would be mine if it hadn’t been stolen by your ancestor a century ago.”
“Land? This is about Woodhaven Abbey?”
Someone else entered the room behind him, someone with a rope and a knife in her hand. She moved quickly to Geoffrey’s side, a look of hatred on her face as she glared at John.
Elizabeth Addersley—his cousin—sneered as she spoke. “This land was my father’s until you were born. Imagine his surprise when he learned our dear grandmother left it to you. When Geoffrey and I wed, it will be back to both of its rightful owners.”
“All you had to do was sell it to my father,” said Geoffrey. “I know he has offered. Mother prompts him regularly. My father’s estate will belong to my older brother one day, but Mama will convince him to give this property to me.” He freed Gwen’s mouth long enough to tie her hands, then took the knife from Elizabeth, touching it to Gwen’s neck. “We tried to encourage you to sell, but nothing worked.”
“You were the one who set the fire.”
“Yes. I thought sure you’d go back to London then.”
“And you locked Gwen in the tower.”
Elizabeth spoke up. “We only wanted to scare her.”
“But we didn’t leave,” John said.
“No,” said Geoffrey. “But you will leave now. In fact, you will disappear, and your heir—your brother, I take it—will be happy to sell to the neighbor who will offer his condolences along with a formal offer to take the property off his hands.”
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