I do not belong here…
He thought of Alicia—that spirited creature who had enraptured him. If she were here, she would no doubt scold him and urge him not to let these troubles cling to his conflicted mind. He let that calm him, for there was something he had to do.
He had purchased time for Alicia by diverting attention away from her, if only for a short while, and he hoped she might have gained more information than he had managed to. There was only one way to find out. The revelers would not notice his absence, and he would not be able to speak with Mistress Marigold and Meghan until they had endured their punishment of a night in the outbuilding, to soften them up somewhat.
It was time for him to return to the village, to speak with his accomplice. Maybe she would have the answers needed to prevent any harm from coming to his family, or his household. Right now, he needed a victory more than ever.
Chapter 36
Alicia opened her mouth to ask more of her father, to see if he knew of anything else that might lead her toward the identity of the shooter. After all, she needed to know as much as possible before she could go to Jacob and tell him her news. Time was already of the essence, with the suggestion of a plot afoot, aimed at the guests to the Duchess’ ball. But she did not want to miss anything vital, just in case he could tell her more.
However, before she could get a single word out, he began to cough violently. Great wheezing heaves rasped out of his lungs, a few specks of blood splashing onto his lips.
“Da?” She rushed to him in a panic, kneeling in front of him.
“It’s… naught.” He barely uttered the words before another bout of coughing seized him in its grip. Every breath rattled out of his lips as he struggled for air.
“Da? What’s the matter? Da?” She grasped for his shoulders and tried to urge him to breathe more steadily. “Da, look at me. Look at me and follow my breathing.”
His eyes bulged, red thread veins appearing across the whites as he fought against the coughing fit. One of his trembling hands reached for a filthy rag on the arm of the chair. He brought it to his lips and spluttered into it, a dark patch of scarlet appearing in the center. Alicia stared at it in horror as it started to spread wider, like a spider’s web being spun before her very eyes.
“Da!” she cried, rubbing his back in case that helped eased his suffering.
Meanwhile, her father continued in his battle, wheezing and hacking into the filthy rag as if there was something lodged in his throat. His whole body trembled violently under the strain of the coughing, his face deathly pale. Every time he removed the rag for a second, Alicia noticed that his lips were turning blue.
“Da! I’ve got to fetch the physician!” She shot to her feet, her heart wrenching. She did not dare to leave him in case he worsened, but if she did not… then she did not know what might happen to him.
Tom…
She darted for the door and flung it open, scouring the near darkness for the cat-footed friend of Jacob.
“Tom? Tom, I need you!” she hissed into the shadows.
A second later, Tom appeared, his eyes wide with worry. “What’s the trouble, Miss Price?”
“Go further into the village and fetch the physician. It’s my Da—he’s not well. He needs help, and he needs it fast,” she gasped, glancing back into the house. Her father had rocked forward in his chair, the terrible sounds of his strained breathing echoing back toward her.
Tom nodded. “I’ll do that now, Miss Price. Never you worry.” He sprinted away into the gloom, leaving Alicia to hurry back into the house, to her father’s side.
“I don’t want… no physician,” her father rasped. “They bring naught but… death.”
“Da, would you listen to yourself? You’re not in a good way. You need the physician, whether you want him here or not.” She sank down in front of him again, her heart hammering in her chest. For all the wrong he’d done, he was still her father, and that was a bond that could not be broken. Perhaps that was foolhardy, but she could not change the fabric of her nature.
Her father heaved out a deadly cough that shook him down to the bones. “Last time I… let a physician… into my house, your… mother ended up in a… grave. I won’t go… the same way… as her. I know I’ve not… been a good father to you, but… I’m not about to leave… you alone in this… world.”
“Da, you need to stop talking. Concentrate on your breathing,” Alicia begged.
“We can’t… afford a… physician!” He lurched further forward, spluttering desperately into his rag.
“You let me worry about that, Da. I will find a way to pay. You know me—I will find a way,” she said, feeling utterly helpless. All she could do was rub his back and wait for the shallow breaths that entered his lungs. They seemed to be getting closer together, his lips less blue, but she would not feel calm until the physician arrived.
Just then, a knock at the door pounded into the cottage. She jumped up and ran toward it, tearing open the door so she might let the physician in without delay. However, the face staring back at her was not the one she had expected to see.
“Your Grace?”
He frowned. “You do not seem pleased to see me.”
“I thought I was to send word to you?” She glanced back at her father, panicked.
“There was no time for that. I thought to come to you instead.” He peered over her shoulder. “Is something the matter?”
She nodded, feeling hot tears spring to her eyes. “It’s my Da—he’s taken a turn.”
“What sort of turn?” Jacob strode past her into the house.
“He just started coughing, and now he can’t stop,” she explained rapidly.
“Let me see what I may do about this.” He shuffled off his outer tailcoat and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow. “I spent a good deal of time at sea. I have seen the afflictions that can affect men. Perhaps I may be able to make a difference.”
Alicia’s father glared over the top of his makeshift handkerchief. “You… keep your… distance!”
“Mr. Price, I know that you and I do not see eye-to-eye, and I know you believe me to be an enemy of yours, but I mean you no harm.” Jacob twisted his head back toward Alicia. “Do you have hot water?”
She nodded. “There’ll be some in the pot.”
“Pour some into a bowl and bring it to me,” he instructed, taking charge. Alicia did not quite know how to respond to this sudden authority. He may have been a Duke, but he had never shown this sort of assertiveness before. It was as if an entirely different man stood before her—confident and sure of himself.
Wasting no time, she took the cleanest bowl she could find and carried it to the pot that dangled over the fire. Wrapping a cloth around her hand, she tipped the pot toward the bowl and watched the steaming water cascade down into it. As soon as it was almost to the brim, she offered it to Jacob. He took it and knelt down beside Alicia’s father.
“I said… don’t you come… near me!” her father rasped.
“I may save your life, Mr. Price, but you have to let me,” Jacob said firmly. An exchange of stern glances passed between them, as Alicia observed, anxiety bubbling through her body. She did not know who might win this war of wills. Ordinarily, she would have been certain of her father’s triumph, but Jacob’s suddenly commanding presence had tipped the scales slightly.
Her father grunted, before descending into another harrowing bout of coughs. “Very… well. Do… what you think… is best,” he wheezed.
“Thank you. Miss Price, might you pass me that cloth in your hand?” Jacob reached out toward her, and she duly passed over the cloth.
He took it and put it over her father’s head, before setting the bowl on her father’s knees. Next, he pushed gently on her father’s shoulders, to get him to lean further over the bowl. Seeming to understand what was happening, her father took in the deepest breath he could. All the while, Jacob performed a juggling act of keeping the cloth tight around the bowl and holding the
bowl steady on Alicia’s father’s unstable knees.
“Keep breathing,” Jacob urged. Her father did as he’d been asked, inhaling and exhaling as much as his troubled lungs would allow. Every minute or so, he would be struck with another bout of coughing, but Jacob made sure to keep everything steady. The water did not spill, the cloth did not shake loose, and her father managed to keep catching his breath between coughs.
Soon enough, the fits grew fewer and further between. Until, some ten minutes later, they had ceased altogether. Jacob waited a few minutes more before he removed the bowl and the cloth and set them down on the floor.
Alicia could have wept, but fear had claimed her tears, keeping them firmly within her eyes. Her father had some color back in his cheeks, his eyes no longer bulging, and his lips were back to their customary shade of pink. He took a deep breath and paused, as though expecting to be struck with another bout of wracking coughs. But it did not come.
“Can you breathe easier?” Jacob asked.
Her father nodded. “Aye, I’d say I can. What did you do?”
“Steam helps to alleviate maladies of the throat and lungs. I have seen the ship’s surgeon perform this often enough, when there have been men suffering through ailments, especially in the cold winters.” He offered a nervous smile. “Although, in your case, I suspect it is more to do with the smoke of this cottage. Do you also smoke a pipe?”
Her father squinted warily. “What if I do?”
“I would advise you not to, for a day or so, until your chest feels calmer. In the meantime, you should keep the windows and doors open as often as you can, to clear away much of this smoke.”
“Are you a physician or a duke?” her father muttered.
Jacob chuckled. “I am no physician, but I was a Navy man. As I said, I have seen similar afflictions in my time. Many of the sailors who spent a good deal of their day below decks also suffered as you do, for the same sort of reason.”
“Well, you needn’t go thinking this makes us any sort of friends,” her father retorted, though Alicia could see a softening in his expression.
“I would not dare to, Mr. Price.” Jacob gave a relieved smile as he got to his feet.
“What brings you here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be lording it over everyone at the manor?” Her father frowned at Jacob, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features.
Jacob stole a glance at Alicia. “Actually, I am here to speak with Miss Price. She was recently relieved of her duties at the manor, and I should like to remedy that.” Alicia knew it was a lie, but it was a clever one.
“Hmph, well, you can talk outside. I don’t want your kind in my house, and I don’t rightly care if you dislike my tone. I am the lord in this house, and I say who I want here.” Her father turned his head and gazed into the flames, one hand pressed to his chest.
Alicia wished he would not be so coarse, but she could tell he was secretly relieved that Jacob had arrived when he had. His entire demeanor had relaxed, and his eyes shone, as if he might cry.
“Let us leave him to recover,” Alicia urged. She crossed the room and stepped out into the cold night air, drawing it into her lungs as though she were the one who had just suffered an affliction. Jacob followed her and made sure to close the door behind them.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered, fighting back tears of her own.
“I am only glad that I could assist, and that I came at an opportune moment,” he replied. “Had he stayed like that for much longer, I do not know what might have been done to soothe his breathing.”
“I sent Tom to fetch the physician, but he has not returned.” Alicia glanced down the road, in case he appeared, but he did not.
Jacob smiled at her reassuringly. “Then you did all you could.”
“It doesn’t feel like much,” she murmured, before scolding herself inwardly to come to her senses. “My father is right, though. Why are you here? Did something happen at the manor?”
Jacob sighed heavily. “In a manner of speaking, yes. I happened upon my brother interrogating Mistress Marzipan and that maid, Meghan. They know something, but they will not speak. As such, they have been locked away for the night, so they may think about their choices.” He cast her a sideways glance. “Although, Mistress Whatshername seems intent on blaming your father for the shooting. I hoped you might have discovered something to confirm or refute that? I could not wait until tomorrow to speak with you about it, or it may have been too late.”
“I have learned much,” she said quietly, steeling herself. Here he was, the gentleman who disturbed her every thought in the most remarkable way and would not be forgotten. Here he was, the only gentleman who had been able to take away the rough edges from her guarded heart. And here he was… the gentleman she could never have.
My cousin…
“You have?” he sounded surprised.
She dug her fingernails into her palms to give her courage. “Firstly, you should know that there is a plot in place for tomorrow night’s ball. The targets are the individuals who seized lands and titles from the Irish. My father was instructed to find their names in the ledger from the library and check those names against the list for the ball.”
“What?” Jacob whirled around, his face pale.
“There is more,” she went on. “Someone has been sending my father many letters, with instructions like that one. He doesn’t know who they are, but it is obvious they wish to hide their involvement. They have told him to burn every letter, so there can be no evidence. Indeed, he has burned the ledger pages for the same reason.”
“Your father is working for someone?”
She sighed. “It would seem so. Although, I should tell you, he was not the one who shot Elias. It was his musket, that’s true, but he was instructed to leave it by the stable. He thought it was for Elias to use.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He was already leaving the manor when the shot rang out, and has a man who can corroborate that,” Alicia explained. “But, again, there is more… Ravencliff is not the house you think it is. Once upon a time, it went by the name of Ballyroyal, and belonged to my father. Your father tricked him into selling the property, at your mother’s behest. My father wasn’t the only one. All of the names on that ledger were people who had done the same—tricking the Irish into selling their lands and titles and giving them little in return, making what was owed to them disappear.”
Jacob gaped. “No… that cannot be true. My father would never do such a thing.”
“You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. I know it must be hard to hear, but your mother was privy to it all. Ask her if you want the truth.” Alicia grimaced. “You see… your father, the old Duke of Woodworth, was my mother’s brother. My uncle. My mother invited him and his wife—your mother—to stay at Ballyroyal, and it seems your mother liked what she saw.”
Jacob shook his head. “But that would mean that you are—”
“Your cousin, yes,” she cut in. “As I’ve said, you don’t have to believe a word that comes out of my mouth. But go to your mother, ask her of what I have told you, and I am certain you will receive the same reply. Although, she may paint herself and your father in a slightly more generous light than my own father did. After all, your father did take what was my father’s, without giving what was owed.”
And owed to me…
“I have to leave,” Jacob murmured. “I have to speak to my mother immediately.”
“I hoped you might say that.” Alicia lowered her gaze.
“I must speak to my brother and put plans in motion to prevent tomorrow’s attack,” he replied, almost to himself. “And I must know if the rest of what you have said is true.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Without another word, Jacob went to his horse and hauled himself into the saddle. A moment later, he had turned away from the cottage and disappeared into the darkness, enveloped by the night. Alicia had to force herself not to watch hi
m go. There was no use in looking fondly at Jacob anymore, for he was not only her cousin, but he belonged to the dynasty that had taken everything from her.
Indeed, in that moment, she did not know if she would ever see him again. And maybe that was for the best. For, as long as he was in her presence, she would never be able to relinquish her thoughts of him, and the hold he had over her heart.
Yes, perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps, this way, she would have a hope of forgetting him one day.
Chapter 37
Jacob rode like he had never ridden before, his mind in utter turmoil. Part of him wanted to ride to the nearest port and sail away from this island altogether, but his pursuit of the truth led him the way he had come, on the road to the manor.
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