The more immediate problem was her husband. There was no way she was going to go to Cheshire, to live in an ancient, crumbling building that was little more than a glorified farmhouse. Her mother-in-law had said more than enough on the subject to enable Pamela to loathe it sight unseen.
While she had no objection to having Arabella move to Bath—or anyplace else—Pamela had no intention of removing herself from the orbit of decent society. She had to bring Edgar back into line. She had no doubt of her ability to do so eventually, but she found it irritating that she should need to.
The rain that had arrived with the bridal party abated briefly, but then settled down to day after day of steady downpour, keeping everyone within doors. Though the Hall was large enough so that any unplanned encounters among the residents were purely accidental, enforced idleness was fraying people’s nerves. Even the dowager Lady Merton was growing irritable.
Merton, Rokeby, and Hodgson had spent those first dry days at the shipyard, but when the rain drove them indoors, they gathered in the library and concentrated on designs, cost estimates, and future routes.
Although Edgar had been eager to shake the dust of Sussex from his heels as quickly as possible, the ladies of the house—and not just Pamela and Arabella—pointed out that a house that had been unoccupied for twenty years was unlikely to offer comfortable shelter. At their urging, he wrote to his estate manager to arrange for the house to be cleaned sufficiently to make it habitable and for any necessary bedding to be acquired.
He could see the sense of all this, but Edgar found the delay frustrating. He found himself a corner of the library that was not covered with shipping plans and began a study of his grandfather’s books on estate management. At least the library was a purely masculine redoubt.
The uncertainty was wearing on all of them. Yes, they were all busy with plans for the future. One day, there would be a new shipping and mail service from England to America. One day, there would be a new family—or at least a new squire—in residence at Saltham in Cheshire. One day, the Rokebys would be able to return to their life in Boston. One day, the elderly Lady Merton would be able to remove to the dower house. And one day, the Earl of Merton and his new countess would be able to settle peacefully into their new life.
But that all remained in the future, a future that seemed to keep retreating into the distance.
Montague had not been found. Until that happened, no one could relax.
The uncertainty was wearing on Miranda. Here she was newly married, in her new home, but she could not settle into her new state. Wonderful though the nights with Tom were, during the day, there were far too many people in the house for them to ever be assured of privacy. Worse than the lack of privacy was the constant tension, the constant uncertainty. She wanted to act, and there was nothing she could do.
Her frustration was nothing to her husband’s. Merton had thought that little scuffle in London had solved the problem, and solved it in the manner he favored—smashing his fists into his enemies. Now everyone kept telling him that danger still lurked somewhere out there, threatening both him and Miranda.
Merton’s frustration was turning into exasperation. He wanted nothing but to be left alone with his bride, but even the moments alone that they managed to snatch were overshadowed by anxiety. Daily messages from Ashleigh, demanding to know if there were any developments were not improving his temper. The answer was always no, but Merton felt certain that there should be something.
Rokeby was inclined to think that Montague had run off. A pragmatic man himself, he could not imagine someone endangering himself in pursuit of something as ephemeral as vengeance.
On the fourth day of rain, Merton and Rokeby were, as usual, in the library, but without Hodgson and Edgar. While Rokeby read, Merton paced up and down the room, pausing each time he reached the window to glare at the rain driving against the panes. He started to turn away when something caught his eye—a movement, a shape, nothing definite.
Rokeby noticed the break in Merton’s rhythm and stood up to join him at the window. “You saw something?”
“I am not sure.” Merton frowned. “I thought I saw someone.”
Rokeby peered out the window. “Are you certain it was a person? The light is fading. It could have been an animal.”
“I am not at all certain. I thought something moved out there, but it might well have been nothing but the wind.”
“If there was someone out there, they will be thoroughly soaked.”
“Mmm.” Merton considered, and then rang the bell for the butler. When that worthy appeared, he said, “Ah, Norrell, I thought I saw someone outside. Could you check to see if any of the servants had occasion to go out or if anyone came to call?”
“Certainly, my lord. I doubt anyone would go out unnecessarily in this weather.”
“I agree,” said Merton with a slightly twisted smile.
Norrell returned in less than half an hour. The servants were almost all gathered downstairs during the lull before dinner, very grateful to be inside. The only ones who weren’t there were two maids who were mending in the linen room and a footman who was “helping” them. Nor had outsiders come to the house that day.
However, and Norrell looked displeased when he reported this, someone obviously had been out. He had discovered a puddle by a side door, a wet cloak dripping from a hook, and a pair of muddy clogs sitting beside it. “None of the servants had any reason to go out that way,” he said, “and all of them denied being out this afternoon at all. I cannot understand it, my lord, unless one of the outdoor servants had occasion to come in.”
An angry light flashed in Merton’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Norrell. I think I know what happened.”
As soon as the butler left, Rokeby said, “You know? What does this mean?”
“It means,” said Merton, speaking softly, “that Montague is not alone. Someone in this house is working with him, has been working with him all along.”
“Edgar?” Rokeby sounded uncertain.
Merton shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“But that only leaves women. Edgar’s wife and mother. Surely they wouldn’t… they couldn’t…”
“I would put nothing past them.”
Rokeby frowned, puzzled. “But why would they be going out in this weather?”
“Because Montague must be out there.” Merton strode over to the window and stared out into the storm. “He’s somewhere out there.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Montague was pacing again, this time in the disused gardener’s hut where he had appointed to meet his co-conspirator. When she finally appeared, he snapped, “It took you long enough to get here.”
She looked at him coldly, then took off her cloak and shook it out. “I had to make sure I was not seen leaving. I could hardly claim to be going for a stroll in this weather.”
“What happened? What went wrong?”
“That is precisely what I wished to ask you.”
“I have seen him take that boat out time and time again. He always heads straight out. By the time the patch gave way, he should have been much too far away to be able to swim for shore. I can’t understand it.”
“Perhaps you have been a little too clever. A fire that injures no one, a boat that sinks without harming anyone—what games are you playing? He should have died on your ship in the first place when my father put him in your hands. You were the officer in charge. You could have simply tipped him into the sea and no one would have been any the wiser.”
“It was never that easy,” he blustered. “I could not have anyone suspect me on board the Ulysses, and now neither can you. If he is murdered, if he is known to have been murdered, who will be the first one they suspect? It won’t be your fool of a husband.”
“But now, it will have to be murder. You have made such a mess of things that no one will believe another accident.” Her mouth twisted in a sneer as her accomplice turned away. “However, if it is assumed that yo
u committed the murder…”
“Are you mad? I have no intention of swinging for you, my pretty.”
“And I have no intention of having you swing,” she said calmly. “You would betray me the instant a runner put a hand on you. We need to arrange it so that their bodies are not found immediately.”
“A second elopement? I hardly think so.”
“Of course not.” She was growing impatient. “All we need is for a search for them to last long enough for you to get to Newhaven where a boat will be waiting to take you to Dieppe. Once across the Channel you can disappear so that you will never be found.”
He stared at her before giving a bitter laugh. “Oh, very good, Madam, very good. You can live out your life in luxury as a darling of the ton, while I live out mine as a penniless fugitive. What kind of fool do you take me for?”
“I take you for a man who can see the world as it is. There is no way you will ever be able to climb your way back into English society. Too many people know what happened on the Ulysses and too many of them suspect you were the one responsible. Even once Merton is dead, do you for one moment think Ashleigh will allow you to show your face in the clubs or at the balls? The best you can hope for will be an existence on the fringes, grateful for any crumbs that come your way.” She watched his face and could see him slowly recognizing the truth of what she said.
He looked at her with cold eyes. “Am I to understand that you have something better to offer me?”
“Of course.” She looked around for a seat, but saw nothing better than a bench that held a muddy smock. She wrinkled her nose and decided to stand. “On the Continent, no one will know you. The nobility throughout is impoverished after the wars. A wealthy Englishman will be gladly welcomed. You can probably find yourself a well-born wife and have everything that would be denied you here.”
“And I should trust you to send that wealth to me after I have fled the country?” He shook his head and laughed bitterly. “You do, indeed, think me a fool.”
“Nonsense. I have it all planned. I have convinced Lady Merton, the dowager, that she should send to London for the family jewels so she can present them to Merton’s bride. Instead, I will give them to you.”
He frowned. “Surely they will be kept in a safe.”
She looked at him pityingly. “I lived in this house for years. Do you truly think there is a safe here that I cannot open?”
He had half a smile for that. “The family jewels,” he said musingly. “Are they valuable or are we talking of trumpery stuff with only sentimental value?”
“I had them valued when Merton was in your hands, where he should have died.” He flushed resentfully at the reprimand, but she continued. “They were valued at nearly forty thousand pounds in all. The best market for them is probably Amsterdam, but you will get more for them if you do not sell them all at once.”
“I will need to see them first.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “There will be no time. The only way the theft of the jewels will be overlooked is if everyone is busy looking for Merton and his bride. They must all disappear at once.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “Very well, but I must see the jewels before anyone actually dies.”
“You do not trust me?”
“No more than you trust me, Madam.”
It took them the best part of an hour to agree on the details of the plan and the timing. It was not so much that they disagreed on the arrangement. It was more that Montague wanted to be certain that Pamela was implicated as deeply as he was, while Pamela sought to distance herself as much as possible from the actual deed. Though she did not say so, she thought that suspicion could be easily deflected from her to her father. After all, she had always been a dutiful daughter, and who would think that a woman could be behind such villainy?
An additional problem was Montague’s need for a safe place to stay. He had to be nearby in order to act quickly once the jewels were at hand, but Hodgson’s men had covered the area well. There was not a village within ten miles that did not have innkeepers and tapsters watching for strangers. They finally settled on the shed they stood in. Pamela promised to bring food and blankets, and Montague found himself amused by the thought that he would be receiving food and shelter from Merton’s bounty. He hoped he would have the opportunity to inform Merton of that before killing him.
An agreement having finally been reached, Pamela wrapped the cloak about her once more and hurried back toward the house through the darkening rain. Montague wrapped himself in his own cloak and settled down to wait.
A figure moved out of the shadow of the trees. Hodgson.
He had been keeping an eye on the house, had followed Pamela when she slipped out, and had then been able to position himself to hear everything that was said in the shed.
Hodgson moved off silently, smiling.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Lady Merton came into the sitting room, beaming proudly. She was followed by two footmen, each bearing a number of boxes covered in velvet or brocade, and accompanied by four guards who had accompanied the boxes on their journey from the bank in London. With a wave of her hand, she instructed the footmen to pile the boxes on the table by Miranda, and then told the guards they could depart.
Merton, who had been staring out the window waiting for something to happen, and Miranda, who had been turning over the pages of the latest issue of Ackermann’s while waiting for something to happen, both turned to her in some confusion. Whatever they were hoping would happen, this was not it.
“Merton, my dear, since you did not think to do this when you were in London, I took it upon myself,” said the dowager countess. She turned to Miranda. “These, my dear, are the family jewels. You will probably want to have some of them reset. They were a trifle old-fashioned even when I first saw them. But that is entirely up to you.”
“Grandmama.” Merton was at something of a loss as to how to proceed. He tried, “I am sure this is very kind of you…”
“Not at all.” She waved her hand airily. “You should have presented these to your wife yourself, but I know you have been distressed by the recent difficulties with that unpleasant Mr. Browne. I never did care for him, you know, but I could hardly turn Edgar’s father-in-law from the house.” She paused for a moment. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the jewels.” She turned her charming smile on Miranda. “Do let me show you some of them.”
Ignoring Merton’s efforts to stop her, she began opening the boxes. “Ah, yes, I remember this.” She lifted a tiara. “I wore it at court, oh, it must be more than forty years ago. It was before our good king’s illness, you know, and he complimented me on how elegant I looked. You must try it on.” She placed it on Miranda’s head and looked at it critically. “Well, perhaps when you are older.”
Lady Merton seemed so happy displaying the treasures, each one reviving memories of her youth, that neither Merton nor Miranda had the heart to stop her. Fully an hour passed before her store of anecdotes began to run down. She stood up finally and said, “Well now, I am sure you will want to take them to your room and try them on with the appropriate gowns. Of course, you will need new gowns now that you are wed, and I doubt that my grandson allowed you time to order any while you were in London.” She shook her head at her grandson in mock reproof. “You will find, my dear Miranda, that although gentlemen expect us to be turned out in the height of fashion, they have no notion of the time and effort required of us.”
She sailed out, leaving Miranda draped in diamonds, pearls, emeralds and amethysts while her husband stood over her, both of them looking overwhelmed. “I am sure it was very kindly meant of your grandmother,” Miranda said carefully, “though I cannot imagine having need of such splendor here in the country.”
Merton gave a snort of exasperated laughter. “I have no doubt that it was kindly meant by Grandmama. She thinks to make amends for her original coldness to you. However, I don’t think that whoever prompted her to make this gesture had kind
ly motives.”
Miranda halted in the midst of disentangling herself from a rope of pearls that had ended up entwined around a necklace with festoons of diamonds. “Prompted? You do not think she thought of this herself? You are most distrustful.”
“My grandmother has not worn any of these things since my grandfather died. He was always the one who got them from the bank when she would have need of them. She was ever delighted to play with these baubles but, left to herself, she would never think of them at all.”
Miranda fingered a tiara, which now nestled in its velvet nest along with a matching necklace, earrings, two bracelets and an enormous starburst brooch. “I collect that this is all very valuable.” She looked at Merton, who nodded. “And it is usually kept in the vault of a bank.” He nodded again. “So it would be very unusual for it to all be here in the house at one time.” Again a nod. She sighed. “A payment, then? Or the prize itself?”
He shrugged. “It could be either one, but someone other than Browne is behind it. He offered only one hundred pounds to those men who attacked me in London. I thought that insultingly cheap. I am pleased to think I am now valued at something closer to my worth.”
“That is not amusing, my lord!” she snapped at him in anger.
“Miranda,” he said placatingly.
Tight-lipped, she began packing the jewels away. He waited, and she eventually slowed, until she simply stared at her hands. “It is not pleasant, this waiting, knowing there is someone out there who wants you dead.”
He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on her temple. “I know, but it cannot be long now. We will lock the jewels in the safe in our chamber. Our villain must know that I will send them back to London as soon as I can arrange guards and transportation, so he must act within a day or two. Then it will be over, I promise you.”
The Earl Returns Page 24