“I was makin’ me way past the bridge when I caught sight o’ the carriage comin’ down the road an’ men on ‘orseback chasin’ aftah it. I nearly broke me bloomin’ neck, jumpin’ off’n the bridge in time ta save meself from ‘ose miscreants. Just ’bout ‘at time the team come free an’ the coach went careenin’ o’er the edge. I hid ‘hind some trees near the bridge an’ watched as the soldiers climbed down ta search the coach. Well, pretty soon ’ey lit out, an ‘at’s when I decided ta ‘ave a look-see at wha’ maybe ’ey left behind. ’Ere I was, wit’ a dead chit in me satchel an’ no idea ‘ows I was gonna find ‘nother ta give Miss Pandora so’s I’d gets me money. Well, me luck proved good for a bloomin’ change. I sneaked a look inta the coach an’ seen the liedy astrainin’ down like she was gonna bear the li’l bugger right ‘way, so’s I thought ta meself I’d ’elp ’er deliver the babe an’ then switch it wit’ me own dead chit. Well, ’ere weren’t no real need for me ta worry what the liedy’d think aftahward, considerin’ she was near dead. She died aftah the babe slipped free, so’s I took the li’l tike as me own, an’ left me li’l boy aside the liedy. By then, I’d already painted the mark on ‘is hind end jes’ like Miss Pandora’s brother said for me ta do. They tol’ me ta put the mark on regular like in months ta come, usin’ the patterns what ’er brother made, an’ lettin’ ’em sorta grow wit’ the chit, so’s Miss Pandora could come back ta fleece yu regular like once she returned wit’ her rich fella. I heared some rumors ’bout ’er bein’ cast off by the bloke what found a younger liedy more ta ‘is likin’, an’ ’ere yu’re tellin’ me today Miss Pandora’s been murdered by an ornery miller.”
Colton peered at the hag. “Did you happen to know the rector who was there the night Pandora supposedly died?”
“Aye, we ‘ad it all worked out, jes’ like a play, yu might say. Miss Pandora’s brother played the part o’ Rev’ren Goodfella. Jocks were a real wily li’l critter, ‘at ’e were, more’n ‘alf as young as ’e made ‘imself out ta be ‘at night. O’ course, the way Miss Pandora painted ‘im up, not e’en ‘is own ma could’ve guessed ‘is age.”
“And the marriage certificate? Was it a forgery?”
“Aye, Jocks were real clever ’bout doin’ ‘at kind o’ stuff. I seen ’em fixin’ it up meself. Whilst ’e was doin’ ‘at, Miss Pandora boasted a lot ’bout what Jocks ‘ad done in the past. ’E seemed ta think ’e were a real smart fella, ’e did, but ’ey also said ye nearly carped ‘im when ye caught men sellin’ English arms ta the French.”
Colton sat back in his chair, remembering that incident very well. Only one of the thieves had been able to escape, and that had only been because a strumpet had enticed English soldiers to watch her lewd dance instead of the prisoner. Though the men had only described her at the time, Colton now considered the possibility that they had been entertained by none other than Pandora Mayes.
“Why didn’t Pandora just ask a real rector to come and marry us?” Colton had also been wondering about that possibility long before he had heard evidence to prove his theories correct. “That would’ve been the simplest thing to do, and then Pandora would’ve had real proof of our marriage.”
Alice Cobble cackled in glee. “Yu don’ thinks yu were the only bloke what she pretended ta marry, do ye? She tricked some real ‘igh an’ ‘aughty lords so’s she could threaten ta bring ’em down ta the gutter wit’ what she knew ’bout ’em if’n they didn’t give ’er what she asked for, only some o’ ’em first fellas she really did get hitched ta, wit’ proper licenses an’ all. Accordin’ ta rumors I heared ’bout her, she were a real looker back maybe eight or ten years ago, an’ she ‘ad ’em ‘ristocrats feedin’ out o’ ’er hand, so ta speak. Then she wed this ’ere real wise ‘awk, a magistrate, ’e were, jealous ta ‘is very bone. ’E started lookin’ inta ’er past, an’ learned ’e weren’t the only one what she’d married. She’d been wed ‘most as many times as ’e ‘ad toes. Well, ’e threatened ta cut ’er up an’ feed ’er ta the fishes, so’s she skedaddled fo’ ’er life. Aftah ‘at, Pandora was kinda skeered ta be callin’ on rectors what’d turn ’round an’ file papers in places where this ’ere magistrate could look ’em o’er.”
“Didn’t this magistrate know she worked at the theatre?”
“Aye, ’e did, at least whilst theys were sparkin’ together.” Alice cackled in glee. “Aftah ‘is ‘awk got real mean, Pandora ‘ad Jocks an’ a friend watchin’ for the bloke, an’ whene’er they’d see ‘im comin’, Pandora’d pay ’er understudy ta perform an’ say she’d been ’ere all along, pretendin’ ta be Pandora.”
“How do you know all this?”
Chortling, Alice laid a grimy finger to her temple. “ ’Cause I’m clever, I am, an’ gots ears ta ’ear. ‘At’s what I do best, listenin’ in on folks, jes’ like I knowed yur ma an’ yu wanted ta gits ‘nother wet nurse ta replace me. Whilst I weren’t cleanin’ the theatre, it tickled me fancy ta listen in on Miss Pandora an’ ’er lovers. Don’t remember yu, though, maybe ’cause yu were off fightin’ the war so much. Pandora an’ Jocks talked many a night when ’ey thought no one was ’round. ’Ey were real cozy, yu might say.”
Colton cocked a brow at the hag in silent question.
Alice cackled at his shocked expression. “Like two lovebirds, ’ey were.”
Colton shook his head, wondering how in the world he had ever let himself get mixed up with such a woman. For too long he had considered himself safe because of Pandora’s claims of being barren, but like all the rest of the fools she had led along on her silken string, he hadn’t realized just how great an actress she had really been. It was probably a miracle that he hadn’t come down with something that would’ve ruined him for the rest of his life. “And Jocks? What happened to him?”
“Latest word is ’e gots ‘isself killed in a knife fight shortly aftah Pandora went ta Bradford.”
Having been burdened by a pressing desire to hurry home to his wife almost from the time he had departed, Colton excused himself momentarily from Alice and went to discuss the accusations against the scruffy woman with one of the officers in charge. “In this instance, I’m convinced that the crone is telling the truth. In view of the fact that my cousin’s husband and driver were both killed when their carriage came free of the four-in-hand and overturned, there is no reason for me to believe that my cousin would’ve survived the crash without also suffering fatal injuries. If Alice hadn’t come along and helped the lady deliver her child, likely her daughter also would’ve died. Therefore, if you have no other charges against the woman other than what I’ve laid against her, then in my opinion she can be released. Should you feel a need to question her further, I’m sure she’ll be at the theatre where you found her working.”
Returning to the room where he had left the hag, Colton dropped a small purse upon the table before her. “This is a reward for saving Genie, but if I ever see you anywhere around Randwulf Manor, Bradford on Avon, or my home in London, I’ll have you arrested for sheer spite. Do you understand me?”
“ ‘At I do, gov’nor,” Alice assured him, totally convinced that he was serious. “I thank yu kindly for the coins, an’ yu can bet I’ll be keepin’ me distance from yu. Ain’t no reason for me ta leave the theatre an’ trot on o’er ta where yu live or ta ‘at li’l hole in the wall yu call Bradford.”
“Good. Then we understand each other.”
Startled upward from an afternoon nap, Adriana sat with a hand clasped over her palpitating heart as her eyes carefully searched the familiar nooks and crannies of the spacious bedchamber that she shared with her husband. Nothing seemed different, everything appeared to be in its place. Yet something had snatched her awake. Whether it had only been a bad dream or some distant sound, she could not say, but the lingering impression now hovering in her mind was of a sound similar to the mourning moan of an animal that had just lost its lifelong mate.
“Leo? Aris? Are you there?”
No answering bark or similar re
assuring response from the animals was heard. In fact, the house seemed strangely, almost deathly quiet. Colton had left for London very early the previous day to talk with Alice. Having had no desire to sit in on that conversation, or endure the lengthy ride in a jouncing carriage when their baby seemed especially restless and wont to roll and twist in her womb, Adriana had begged to be excused from the trip in spite of the fact that her husband had been totally against the idea of leaving her. While Roger was still free to commit mayhem, Colton had argued, it wasn’t safe for her to be alone. Even when she had smilingly reminded him there were many, many servants in and about the house, his concern for her welfare remained of paramount importance to him. She was tired, she had admitted when he had kept insisting, and might just sleep the day through, which had definitely been her intentions while he was gone. If he wanted to stay home and watch her sleep, she had said with a coy smile, then that was entirely up to him. But, of course, there was the matter of Alice to deal with, and he could do that more efficiently without her tagging along or delaying his progress with her frequent trips to the privy. Reluctantly he had acquiesced but had given Harrison implicit instructions that everyone in the house should watch over their young mistress and, if necessary, guard her with their lives. Maud had fervently assured him that she would stay near.
Samantha’s time was near at hand, and shortly after Colton had left for London, Philana had departed in the opposite direction for the Burkes’ country residence where she planned to stay until her grandchild was born. Samantha had been pleading for her to come and spend some time with them anyway, Philana had explained, and this seemed her best opportunity yet.
Leaving the enormous Jacobean bed, Adriana slipped a silken wrapper over her chemise and brushed out her long hair, allowing the softly curling tresses to flow freely down her back. Departing the master’s chambers, she progressed toward the staircase. She was anxious to alleviate the sudden trepidation that had swept over her and to affirm that everything was just as it should be in the manor. She had no idea when Colton would actually return. He had only told her that he would rush back as soon as he concluded his business with Alice. Having had a fair sampling of how ornery and difficult the woman could be, Adriana didn’t hold out any hope that he’d be home soon enough to please her, or in any kind of good humor after questioning the vexatious hag.
Adriana’s slippered feet beat a rapid staccato on the stairs as she made her descent. When she came to light upon the marble floor in the massive great hall, she glanced around apprehensively, hearing nothing, seeing no one. By rights, she should’ve heard some sound from the servants as they went about their duties or even the patter of rushing feet as they hurried through the manse. Instead, the house was as quiet as a tomb.
“Harrison? Where are you?”
No answer came, giving rise to a goading fear. Harrison was entirely dedicated to the family. Had he been able to, he would’ve responded to her call.
Throwing caution to the wind, Adriana raced through the archway leading into the vestibule and snatched open the front door. Stepping beyond the portico, she glanced about the immediate grounds. No one was in sight, not even the gardeners.
In deepening confusion, she returned to the interior and glanced briefly toward one end of the drawing room before wandering back to the massive great hall. There she turned slowly about in a circle as her eyes swept the corridors and probed the nooks and crannies beyond the stone archways surrounding the central room on both levels. There was absolutely no sign of any servant, much less Harrison.
In renewed determination, Adriana decided that she had to be more methodical in her search and began in that endeavor by returning to the drawing room, this time entering it rather than merely glancing into it. She had barely moved past the tall wing chair residing near the entrance when she halted with a sudden gasp, espying Harrison’s crumpled form in front of the massive fireplace. A thin trickle of blood trailed from his temple into his gray hair, causing her heart to lurch with sudden fear.
Flying across the room with her dressing gown spreading outward like giant wings, Adriana knelt beside the steward and frantically searched for some sign of life. Greatly relieved by the steady pulse she found beneath his stiffly starched shirt-cuff, she sought to reassure herself that he had not been assaulted but had merely stumbled and hit his head. Considering his advancing years, there was always that possibility. Yet, after straightening his thin legs and placing a pillow beneath the elder’s head, she espied a diminutive, blood-smeared marble bust lying on the floor near the corner of the marble hearth. Its present location and somewhat gory condition was enough to send her apprehension soaring, for that particular bust usually sat on a table near the entrance to the room.
Leaving the man, Adriana hurried downstairs to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of water and a cloth with which to cleanse his wound, but when she entered, she promptly halted, seeing it completely devoid of those who usually worked there. Even so, water was boiling in several pots, and in a large bowl whipped egg whites had begun to lose their consistency.
“Cook? Where are you?”
Silence continued to reign unbroken, congealing her fear into a cold, hard lump in her throat.
Of a sudden, Adriana realized her heart was thudding against the wall of her chest. An abandoned kitchen at Randwulf Manor was definitely not normal. Indeed, as tightly as Cook ran her domain as well as the help allotted her, preparations should’ve been in progress for the evening meal.
Catching sight of a pitcher of water, Adriana snatched it up, grabbed a cloth and a small shallow basin, and then ran out. In spite of its length, she was sure her hair was standing on end as she hastened upstairs again.
At the entrance to the drawing room, she momentarily set aside the items she had collected and dragged the wing chair away from the doorway, providing herself with an unobstructed view of the passageway and the great hall beyond it. She had no wish to be caught unawares by an intruder in the same manner as Harrison had.
Collecting the items she had brought from the kitchen, Adriana knelt beside the elderly butler and began bathing the blood from his temple and cheek, all the while keeping a wary eye out for the culprit whom she now feared was lurking somewhere within the house. All she could think about was Roger, and the people he had poisoned. Somehow he had managed to get past the dogs and slip into the house. As much as that idea terrified her, it seemed the only logical explanation for Harrison being unconscious and the servants missing.
As many times as she glanced toward the drawing room entrance, absolutely no one came within range of her vision. Realizing that her fears were mounting with each passing moment, Adriana resolved to search the house from end to end in a quest to find some help. Someone of a friendly nature had to be in the house! He just had to be!
“Aris? Leo? Where are you? Come here, boys!” she called, desperately hoping she’d hear their toenails clicking against the marble floor as they responded to her summons. “Oh, please, please come. . . .”
Then the thought dawned. Perhaps Roger had poisoned the animals! He had always been afraid of them. How better to dispense with the pair than to poison them! But how? He’d be too afraid to approach them. Even if he did, they’d never take anything from his hand.
The terrifying thought sent her flying down the corridor toward the gallery where the pair enjoyed sunning themselves. Reaching the archways that served to divide the room from the corridor, she peered within. Although less brilliant than in the winter, the strange configurations of colored lights steamed into the room, making it difficult to accurately discern what was real and was not. Holding up a hand to shade her face from the subdued radiance, she moved past the entrance, not at all certain what she’d find.
“Aris? Leo? Are you here?”
“As a matter of fact, my dear, they are,” a familiar voice replied, snatching a startled gasp from her. Frantically she glanced about, searching out the devil who had entered her home.
“Roger
! What are you doing here?” she demanded, her spine prickling with fright as she espied him sitting much like a king in a large wing chair. He looked very lofty, smug, and amused. Obviously he was enormously pleased with himself.
Searching back through her memory, Adriana wondered how she could have overlooked his presence in her anxious quest to find servants. Yet even this late into spring, the sun still created strangely deceptive shafts of light that confused the eye. Less than a month from now, that problem would cease, at least until the coming of late autumn. She was now convinced that Roger had been sitting exactly where he was for some time, no doubt smirking in demented amusement as he watched her dashing hither and yon.
“I’ve come to pay my respects, my beauty,” he stated, seeming very self-possessed. His eyebrow arched to a lofty height at the scar that fractured it as his eyes lowered to her rounded stomach. Then his upper lip lifted in a disdainful sneer. “I see your husband has been taking his pleasure of you, my dear, but I can almost promise you by the time I’m finished with you, that little part of him will be dead.”
Clasping a trembling hand over her belly, Adriana stumbled back, her heart chilling with fear. Once again, she searched about with her eyes, wondering why she had heard nothing from the dogs, and then gasped in sudden agonizing horror as she found them both lying on the floor beyond Roger. Their tongues hung unnaturally out of their mouths as they lay sprawled upon their sides. She had no other recourse but to believe they were dead.
“You’ve killed them!” she railed, tears filling her eyes. “You foul, stinking son-of-a bastard!” At the moment, it was the worst name she could think of, but almost as soon as it came out of her mouth, Adriana realized it didn’t sound quite the same way that Shakespeare had phrased his defamation in King Lear and had to conclude that she had probably besmirched the man’s talents by seriously misquoting the insult. Nevertheless, her slander suited this particular popinjay perfectly, considering the insinuated affront made its descent from the sire rather than from the mother.
The Reluctant Suitor Page 60
