by Robyn Carr
She wanted to rush to her mother and father and allay their worries, but she quickly reconsidered. She decided it would be best for everyone if she talked to Geoffrey first and they both delivered the news. Perhaps between the two of them it would not be necessary to tell tales of bargains, treasons, and lies. Perhaps her family would be satisfied to know that she had married, conceived, and, during a bitter falling out, left her husband to seek out her family.
If they love me, she thought, they will allow—
And then a deeper feeling of ease grew in her chest. It did not really matter whether they accepted her story. She loved Geoffrey...and her place was with him, raising their child. And that was where she would be.
Alicia waited on the veranda for the men to return from their various duties. Wesley was the first to come home. But at dinner, Preston and Geoffrey were still absent. Throughout the evening she cocked an ear toward the front of the house, hoping to hear them when they returned, but the hour grew late and her spirits sank, for they still did not return.
Her mother was still stitching at her needlework when Alicia smothered a yawn. "You don’t usually stay up so late," Marguerite observed.
"I’ve been waiting—" she started. She sighed. "I’ve been waiting for Lord Seavers to return. I wanted to speak to him."
Marguerite laughed softly. "Well, you might just as well get some rest: they’re spending the night in Hampton, I’m sure. Preston wouldn’t venture home if his arrival would be so late."
"Are you sure, madam?"
"Quite sure."
"Why did they go to Hampton today?" she wondered aloud.
"I couldn’t say. Some business of Lord Seavers’s that had them both very excited when they left. Preston said he didn’t know how long it would take."
Alicia sighed again. "Perhaps his ships are finally in port," she said, recalling the conversation she had overheard. And then, she thought, those damn ships come between us more than any other thing.
Nineteen
"It pays to talk about," Rodney explained to the two young lords who accompanied him. Their shoes clattered on the planks as they set a brisk pace to a tavern Rodney was telling them about. "The keeper isn’t sure, but the man he talked with not long ago sounds very much like Culver Perry."
"Does he know where the man stays?" Geoffrey asked.
"Hasn’t any idea, lad, but he’s asked about the Tilden family. I think that’s reason enough to be suspicious."
"Everyone asks about the Tildens," Preston put in. "We own more ships than anyone else. We do more trade than anyone in Virginia. Any visiting merchant would ask about us, as our dinner table proves. There are more guests than family for Etta to serve on some occasions."
Rodney stopped short and Preston halted with him. "But, lad, have you talked to a merchant from England by the name of Samuel Tyler?"
"I have not, but my father may have."
"And what is your father’s routine? To speak with them at the wharves and leave them to an inn?"
"No, it is not," Preston acknowledged, taking off at a brisk pace once again. In that, Rodney was definitely right. Wesley would not have left any merchant to ponder their business without offering dinner and perhaps a decent bed. If this man Tyler had asked after the Tildens and did not make contact with any of them, it could be suspicious.
The innkeeper was a bit at odds when the three men burst upon him with no pause for social amenities. They were anxious and full of questions.
"Hold," the man begged. "Why do you look for this man? What’s he done?"
"Murder," Geoffrey put in. "Twice. Both times women who had no defense. Now, quickly, tell us what he asked of you."
"He asked about the Tilden family, sir, that’s all."
"The number of ships?" Preston asked.
"Aye," the man confirmed. "And the family, the wealth, children born to Lord Tilden."
"And he claimed to be a merchant?"
"Aye."
"From England?"
"Aye."
"What goods does he bring? What does he want to buy?"
The man thought for a moment, his finger picking at his chin. "I guess he never said."
"So we have a merchant to buy and sell, but we know not what. He asks about the Tilden family, but does not make contact for trade. Was there anything about him you remember clearly that sets him apart from any other man?"
"No," the man said. "He seemed a friendly sort. But there was the ring..."
"What ring?" Geoffrey asked.
"Wore a handsome ring, he did. A blue stone in the center and a letter, I think. I don’t read so I don’t know—"
"A signet ring," Geoffrey said to Preston. "And how many merchants have a crest they wear on their finger? I think we’ve got him, if we can find him."
"Didn’t seem the sort of chap who’d murder a woman. Truth is, he seemed to have a great respect for women. He defended your sister, Mr. Tilden."
All eyes turned back to the innkeeper.
"Defended her? How?"
"Beggin’ your pardon, sir, he didn’t seem to see anything wrong about her being fussed over, and the dowry and all, when she’s been out of the country and her parents’ home all these years and all."
Geoffrey turned and looked at Preston, his eyes alive with fire and hatred. He walked past the other two men and out onto the street. There he stopped.
"Well, he thinks he’s found her, that’s clear," Geoffrey said: "I don’t know what he thinks that will get him, but I think if we stay close to Alicia we may find our man."
"Rodney, find the local magistrate and inform him of what’s happening. You stay here and keep a close eye out for our friend."
"Preston, we’ll return to your father’s house immediately, and whether or not Alicia is ready to hear me and consider my protection, she shall have it. I’m going to tell your father today what’s taken place over the Bellamy inheritance and how Alicia came to be my wife."
"That should take his supply of good liquor down a quart."
Geoffrey shrugged. "If the king can forgive my transgressions, Wesley Tilden can. And you can thank your friend Prentiss for telling me where Alicia went and who she turned out to be. I only hope Alicia is as civil as the king was. He seemed to understand my plight—enough so to levy a respectable fine against me and legitimate the marriage. But he’s none too happy with the corpse that was buried at Bellerose, and has a special distaste for a man who would murder women."
"I suppose if you can corner Alicia just long enough to tell her—"
"Tell her that she has no legal right to choose any husband other than the one the king endorses. She is my legal wife. And she will accept that now. Her play at fighting me will no longer interfere with her safety. The wait is over."
"I’m for getting home," Preston said. "I don’t like learning what I’ve learned and having Alicia there without our protection."
Geoffrey clapped a hand on Preston’s shoulder. "She will have me at her side from now on, day and night, whether she likes it or not. The lass has had her way about this long enough."
The afternoon sun grew hotter and the days shorter. Busy black maids polished the Tilden home from top to bottom; the men in the fields loaded bails of tobacco and cotton onto carts to be stored or sold at the end of the harvest.
Marguerite had gone early in the morning to a neighbor’s house where a baby was being born. Brianna sat in the sitting room stitching away at monograms on Preston’s handkerchiefs, a chore Alicia hoped would never be expected of her, for she was far too restless for stitchery. Etta fluttered through every room, overseeing the maids at work. The men of the family were all either at the wharves, in the fields, or busily watching the warehousing of their goods.
Alicia sat with Brianna for a time, growing tired of that quickly. Then she followed Etta from room to room, but there were no little chores she could do; no vegetables to pare, no dough to knead, and no one to talk to.
She sat on the veranda with a fan, m
ulling over in her mind what she would say to Geoffrey when he returned. She wanted to fight him, but she wanted to yield. In truth, she wished to be his wife.
There are some things that cannot be changed, she thought. The fact that I love him will never change, and if he can leave behind our problems, so can I. And that this is his child cannot be denied any longer, for the sake of us all.
A rider came up the long drive that led to the main road and the river, and Alicia watched him come closer. Not many traveled by horseback in the spring and summer, but now the river was lower and the barges slower. A small black boy at the edge of the veranda saw the rider and jumped up to do his chore of ringing the bell to announce to the household that company had come.
As he drew in on the house, Alicia began to rise slowly. The brim of his hat partially covered his face, but her worst fears were realized as she recognized Culver Perry.
He tied up his horse and dismounted, taking his hat off and stepping up onto the porch. He bowed briefly before her. "You’re looking as beautiful as ever, Alicia," he said suavely, his white teeth gleaming.
Etta was on the porch instantly, like a mother lion protecting her cubs. When the master and mistress were out, this was her house. "Sir," she greeted, "who do ye call upon?"
"Samuel Tyler," he said, again bowing briefly before her and smiling very easily. "I’ve come from England, where it was my pleasure to make the acquaintance of Miss Tilden. I promised her I would visit when I had the opportunity to come to Virginia, and it was much sooner than I dared hope."
Etta looked at Alicia sharply. "Do you know this man, mum?"
Alicia straggled to maintain some sense of calm. She knew Perry’s antics well, and it was safe to assume he had come all this way for the purpose of blackmail. If she could pretend to satisfy him until Geoffrey returned, he would know what to do.
"Yes, Etta. He is an old friend."
"Would you have me stay here with you, lass?" Etta asked.
Alicia laughed softly, her attempt at taking the situation lightly not convincing to the old woman at all. "Of course not, Etta. Go about your work."
Etta looked the man over one more time and then huffed back into the house. She stuck her head out and called to the little boy on the edge of the porch. "Boy, come here. I have some chores for you."
The little boy looked perplexed, for ringing the bell was his chore, but he obediently rose and went into the house. Etta grabbed him by the neck and dragged him nearly to the other end of the house, through the hall, dining room, and kitchen to the back door. "Boy, you go and find your master. You tell him to come quickly; tell him there’s a mite o’ trouble at the house."
"Somebody sick, Etta?"
"Quick, now! And don’t dally as ye go, you hear me? Be quick and spare yerself a lashin’."
Etta crept back to the front of the house and stood just inside the door, but she could not make out their conversation, for both spoke quietly.
"What do you want of me now, Lord Perry?" Alicia asked brittlely.
"I’m just the curious sort, madam. You’ve inched your way into so many inheritances that I wonder who taught you to act?"
"This is my family, sir, in all truth."
Perry laughed loudly. "I imagine it was a simple move for you, what with Tilden hanging about Seavers’s ships all day and spending his free time with you. When you heard he was looking for his lost sister, why, you could be she."
Alicia stiffened slightly, but would not defend her legitimacy to him.
"And the great Tilden family knows what you’ve done, of course ."
"They don’t seem to care what my past has been."
"They know that you cheated the king out of an inheritance by lying and pretending to be Charlotte Bellamy."
"They do not ask me."
He looked over the length of her, his eyes glittering with mischief. "It occurred to me long ago that I could use someone like you, but that was before I learned that Seavers still broods over you."
Alicia allowed a small superior smile. "He is here, Lord Perry," she informed him.
Perry was taken aback by the news. In all his questioning, he had not thought to ask after Seavers. He assumed Alicia had been abandoned when her job was done. It was the way he would have handled it. "Here? In the house?"
"Ah—yes," she stumbled.
Perry smirked and raised one brow. "It amazes me, Alicia, how divine you are at lying on the one hand, and perfectly miserable on the other."
"Tell me what you want, Culver," she said, her voice steely.
"Tyler, madam. Samuel Tyler. I, too, have adopted a new identity. So tell me, Alicia, what will you pay me to hold silent on your clever scheme with Seavers?"
She watched him closely and reminded herself to hold him at bay until she could ask Geoffrey what to do about him.
"What do you want? I haven’t much money."
Perry laughed loudly. "You have an entire fortune under you! But for now, dear Alicia, I would only request that you walk with me for a time and tell me how you’ve come to acquire so much."
"I don’t want to go with you."
"Now, now, dear, let’s do be friends. I can earn my living either way: by keeping your secret from your ‘family,’ or by keeping their secret from the king. Whichever, when it’s out, you’ll be in trouble."
Alicia tried to look bored, but within, her heart pounded ferociously. "Your secrets didn’t get much attention in London."
"Ah, but that was London! These good people are not soured and jaded with simple gossip. They already wonder loudly at your lack of a husband. The Tildens will be hard pressed to maintain their glory in Virginia once the truth is known about where their daughter’s been and what she’s been about."
She stared in silence, and slowly it occurred to her that this might be the man Geoffrey was looking for. She struggled to remember a part of the conversation she had overheard in the study. "The letters do not convict him, but call for his return to England, where he will be tried and very likely hanged…"
"Charlotte Bellamy," she started, feeling weak. "Where is she now?"
"Died of the plague, poor lass."
"Plague?"
"Aye. I paid handsomely to have her carted away with the other corpses. Our Charlotte went off on a cart of the dead with no name."
"You murdered her!"
"How hardened you’ve become, Alicia," he said, scanning the area with his eyes. "Come along, I want to move away from the house."
"And Andrea, your betrothed. You killed her as well!"
Her voice had risen considerably, fear growing wild within her, but on the last word, the door to the house opened and Etta stepped onto the porch.
Perry looked between the two women and he took a step closer to Alicia. "Lay one hand to the lass, blackguard, and you’ll live to regret it—if you live," Etta threatened.
Ignoring the housekeeper, Perry’s hand came out and grabbed Alicia around the wrist, pulling her down the steps toward his horse. Etta was close on his trail. She threw herself between them, her large, muscular arms pushing and struggling with Perry, doing all she could to prevent him from holding Alicia. Perry let his fist fly and the old woman went sprawling into the dust.
Alicia took up the fight, her hands flailing wildly at his face and chest. If he thought to grab her around the waist and carry her away on his horse, he was biting off more than he could chew, for her punching hands, his grunts, and her screams made it impossible to grab any part of her.
Alicia fought so desperately that she did not hear the pounding of horses’ hooves, and it was not until Perry jerked his head in the direction of the approaching horses that she turned to notice Geoffrey and Preston coming down the road in a cloud of dust.
Perry looked at her in contempt. "Bitch," he growled, flinging her away from him.
He mounted his horse and was trying to ride away from his pursuers, when Wesley Tilden came riding around the comer of the great house, a look of fury etched in h
is weathered face. His thick white mane rode the wind, and he wielded a huge stick. He had seen Alicia struggle to escape the man on horseback, and needed to know no more.
He brought himself up alongside Perry with ease and struck hard. One devastating thump knocked Perry off his horse and threw him to the ground. His animal escaped, but Perry did not. He lay either unconscious or dead, his face in the dust.
Wesley looked toward the porch and saw Alicia helping Etta to her feet, brushing her off. Neither appeared to be hurt, so he dismounted to examine the man he had just felled. Just as he rolled him over, Geoffrey and Preston arrived and jumped off their horses.
"Who is this bastard?" Wesley demanded.
"You don’t recognize him, Father? Culver Perry is his name."
"Perry? Lord Perry?"
"The earl is his brother, this man no longer has lordship. He was betrothed to Andrea, just prior to her death."
"I have papers calling for his imprisonment, sir. If you’ll have him tied I’ll see him taken away." Geoffrey did not stay a moment longer to discuss or explain the situation, but bolted to where Alicia stood.
"What the hell was he doing with my daughter?" Wesley demanded.
Preston sighed and took off his hat, striking it against his thigh to beat off the dust. "I think he would have taken her and demanded ransom, Father. But I’m not sure if he would have called for money from you or Geoffrey. It’s a very long story."
A low moan came from Perry and he rolled his head, leaving a little trail of blood on the dirt. Wesley looked over toward the porch and saw Geoffrey run up to Alicia, grab her by the arms, and talk to her in some rapid, intense fashion, the substance of which he could not hear or guess.
Geoffrey assured himself that Alicia was not hurt, though tears of pure fright coursed down her cheeks.