Judith looked at her daughter, who was not in the habit of lying, or even exaggerating. "You saw someone push Bastian into the river?"
Rosie nodded vigorously. "He sort of threw him. Picked him up and threw him over."
Judith could hardly believe what she was hearing. "What did the man do then?"
"He ran away."
"Could you tell what he looked like?"
Rosie shook her head. Judith looked at the footman. "Did you notice this man, George?"
"No, milady. I were taken up by watching them fish Master Bastian out of the river, and giving thanks when I saw he were all right. By the time I understood what Miss Rosie were saying, any man was gone."
Judith felt chilled. "Were there many people on the bridge? Would anyone else have seen?"
"There were quite a few, and carriages, too, but it must have happened quick. One old biddy was going on about rascals who climbed on the parapets, but I'm sure he didn't do that."
Judith wondered if Rosie would lie about this strange attacker to cover up the fact that Bastian had been so foolish, but it seemed unlikely without coaching, and this hardly seemed a preplanned adventure. "You must have some idea what this man looked like, Rosie. Was he big or small?"
"Just ordinary, Mama." She wrinkled her brow in powerful thought. "He looked like Papa, perhaps."
Judith felt a chill of shock. "Like Papa Leander!" she echoed.
"Perhaps," said Rosie. "Dressed ever so nice."
Judith's heart steadied. A gentleman, then, but it could have been any gentleman. There was nothing else to be learned, so she took Rosie with her to see to Bastian. They found him scrubbing himself cheerfully in front of the kitchen fire, rather proud of his adventure now he was safe.
"Excuse me, my lady," said Addison faintly, "but what are we to do with Master Bastian's clothes?"
Judith considered the pungent, soggy pile in the corner. She hated to waste new clothes, but said, "Throw them away, Addison."
The ruler of the house passed on the order with a gesture, and the kitchen boy gathered up the garments and scurried off. Something about his manner made Judith think that it would all be washed and used, but she had no objection.
Like Hal Beaumont, she hated waste.
"Begging your pardon, milady," said Addison quietly, "but it is quite likely that Master Bastian swallowed some river water, and that could make him ill."
First Betty, now Bastian. "Bastian, do you think you swallowed any of the water?" Judith asked.
"No, Mama. George had just been saying how dirty the river is with all the city using it as a cesspool, so when I was falling I thought I'd better take a breath and keep my mouth shut. And I did." The pride drained out of his voice. "It was funny, Mama. It seemed to take forever to fall."
The thinness of it caught at her heart, and she hugged him. "I think you did marvelously, dear. Now, tell me. Did someone push you in?"
"Well of course they did," he said indignantly. "Did you think I'd jumped?"
"No, of course not," she said hurriedly, trying to hide her fear. "Do you know who?"
"No," said Bastian with a frown. "But do you know, Mama, all morning I kept seeing the glove man again."
"The glove man?"
"The one who lost his gloves yesterday. They fell out of his pocket in Westminster Abbey, and so I ran after him and gave them back. He was very grateful. May we have the sweets now?"
Judith wondered if he were wandering in his mind. "What sweets, dear?"
"The ones he gave us. Betty said we couldn't have them without your permission. They were marzipan fruits."
"Well, she was ill and must have forgotten to ask..." Judith trailed off under her horrified thoughts. She swallowed, and struggled to remain calm. "I'll ask her when I go up. Bastian, you and Rosie are to stay home for the rest of the day."
Judith hurried off, wishing Leander was home. Was it a terrible plot, or just two strange coincidences? But it was Leander whose life was supposed to be in danger. Oh, lord! What if he were even now under attack?
"Addison! Do we know where the earl is?"
"I'm afraid not, my lady, but I could send round to the clubs, and to Mister Cosgrove's office."
"Do that please. Send a message that I need him to come home as soon as possible."
Judith ran up the stairs to Betty's attic room. The woman was asleep, but Judith ruthlessly woke her.
"Milady...?"
"Betty, did you eat any of the sweets that were given to Bastian?"
The woman's face crumpled, and she began to cry. "Oh, milady. I'm right sorry. I only had the one. And I've been thinking... I know it's daft, but could it have been them 'as made me sick?"
"It could indeed," said Judith grimly. "What happened to the rest?"
"They're in my cloak pocket, milady."
Judith found them, a gold net bundle of gaily colored marzipan fruits, most attractive to a child. She was trembling with what might have been. Look at what had happened to Betty from eating only one, and she was a grown woman. Her darling children could have died.
A knock on the door heralded the doctor. Judith quickly explained the course of events.
"Extremely strange," said the doctor, and took the sweets. "I will examine these, but if we are considering a noxious substance.... Excuse me while I check my patient, Lady Charrington."
The examination was thorough. At the end, he said to Betty, "I believe you will do very well. I detect no weakness of the heart."
"Was it those sweets, then, sir?" the maid asked.
"I fear it could be so, but in that case, your action—improper though it was—may well have saved the children's lives."
Judith led the doctor downstairs and gave him a glass of wine, taking one herself to steady her nerves. "Would one of those sweets have killed a child?" she asked bluntly.
"I fear it might have been so, Lady Charrington."
"Do you have any idea what is in them?"
The man sipped his wine thoughtfully. "There are a number of possibilities, but my guess would be extract of foxglove. It is used medicinally to induce vomiting, and to steady the heart. The symptoms would fit. Lady Charrington, do you have any idea why anyone would try to harm your children?"
"No," Judith lied, and decided not to tell the doctor about the attack on Bastian.
Leander came in hurriedly. "What is it?" He looked alertly at the doctor. "Is Betty worse?"
The doctor explained the situation, and Leander's face became a watchful mask. "I see. It is most peculiar. I will look into this incident, but I fear it must be a case of a madman. The authorities must be informed. As we are leaving London tomorrow, at least our children cannot be at further risk."
As soon as the doctor was gone, he relaxed and let his worry show. "Struth, I never would have believed it. But what gain in harming the children?"
Judith spoke coldly. "Someone pushed Bastian off London Bridge today."
His eyes widened with shock. "Is he...?"
"He's fine. He says they were followed today by the man who gave them the sweets." She was using the words like a bludgeon, but could not help herself.
Leander poured himself some wine and drank it down."It makes no sense."
"All I know," snapped Judith, "is that my children are at risk because of you and your demented family. Perhaps they think Bastian is your true son and heir."
"They couldn't be so foolish."
"They seem capable of any kind of foolishness. After all, if they realized someone was down asking about diphtheria, they could have realized that trick had failed. What better way to delay us than to kill a child? A mere nothing to a Knollis, I suppose."
"Judith, it makes no sense," he repeated. "You're upset. I understand that—"
"Upset! That is to put it at its lowest, sir. I'm in a rage, and a good part of it is directed at you. You were not honest with me. If you'd told me my children could be endangered by your family squabbles, I wouldn't have married you for the Mint!"
"How could I know they'd run mad?" he demanded, running his hands through his hair.
"They're your family!" Judith fired, and stormed off to guard her children.
Leander came to see them. He kept the tone light as he went over it with them, encouraging Bastian to see it as an adventure. Then, without further words with Judith, he went out again.
Judith's anger, which had been three parts terror, subsided, but she didn't totally absolve Leander. He had clearly not been honest about the extent of his family's wickedness. When Addison came to say that Mr. Rossiter was below, she denied herself. She was in no mood for guests, especially not Sebastian's brother.
Addison returned in a moment to apologize for the fact that while Mr. Rossiter was waiting, the new footman had gossiped about the accident on the bridge, and upset the boy's uncle. He had apparently been soothed by the news that they were all to leave town shortly for the safety of the West Country.
Safety, thought Judith. It was more like heading into the lion's den.
Chapter 16
As Bastian seemed none the worse for his ducking, they set off the next day as planned.
Leander had talked this over with Judith the night before, offering to leave the children behind, and even suggesting that they all go somewhere else and let others investigate the problems. Judith had no intention of separating from her children, and saw their only security in confronting Leander's family and spiking their guns forever.
Leander agreed. "I've informed the magistrates," he said, "in case this should be a case of a wandering madman. I've also given all that we know to the Rogues, and they will pursue inquiries. They will check particularly whether young James Knollis, or any other of my cousins is in town."
Despite the fact that they were talking frankly, his manner, like hers, stayed securely within a barrier of formality.
"Do you think we will be safe on the journey?" Judith asked.
"I'm not entirely sure we are unsafe here, but since we will be in the coach, and I do not intend to let any of you out of my sight, I don't see much danger. I'm taking George along to supplement the postillions, just to be sure. He seems a competent young man, and assures me he is a good enough shot with a pistol."
Judith shivered. "As you said yourself, it takes so little to kill someone." At that moment, she wanted him to hold her, but the walls between them were too high.
"Outright, yes. It's more difficult to make it look like an accident, and that seems to be the intent here. If Bastian had come to grief, and Rosie hadn't been watching, wouldn't we all have assumed he must have climbed up onto the parapet and fallen?"
Judith took a deep breath. "That makes me feel a little better. I'll be glad, however, when we expose your uncle and cousins, and put an end to this."
"As will I. Judith," he added, "I'm hoping that when we arrive in Somerset, you and the children will stay with a friend of mine while I go on to the Temple alone. Nicholas's place is only about thirty miles away."
Judith wanted to protest, to say that she must go with him, to somehow guard him, but her children must come first. "Of course," she said. "Another Rogue?"
"King Rogue," said Leander with the trace of a smile. "You'll like Nicholas, and I trust him to keep you all safe."
* * *
The children, sensitive to atmosphere, were rather subdued at the beginning of their journey, but they soon perked up and then became rambunctious. Judith would be heartily glad to have them in a stable place and back into a routine before they were totally ruined.
The animals were with them. Since Blucher was content to live mainly in Bastian's pocket, with occasional tours of his shoulders, Rosie demanded that Magpie be let out. The kitten, however, had killer instincts, and hissed and spat at the rat.
In the end, time out of confinement had to be rationed between the two, which satisfied Rosie, but angered Bastian.
Judith found she had a headache, and she wondered if Leander wished he'd never set eyes on the family. Now that they were not in accord, all the lighthearted fun seemed to have disappeared.
When they stopped for lunch, he would not let the children out of sight, which limited their exercise, so that they were still fidgety when they climbed back into the coach.
They started a fight about which side of the coach to sit on. Judith suggested she move so they could both sit on the same side. Then they fought about who should sit with her. Judith snapped at them to stop it, and they subsided into sullen silence.
Leander was preoccupied with fears for their safety.
He was in a hurry to get to the safety of the Delaneys' house, and they pushed on to Andover on the first day, emerging in the gloom, stiff and ill-tempered. Judith and Leander had separate rooms.
By the next day the weather had taken a turn for the worse. It was overcast with a freezing drizzle. Judith felt sorry for those traveling outside the coach.
"If we can make good speed, we could be at Redoaks today," said Leander. Judith wanted to protest such grueling haste, and yet she, too, would be glad to be at a house, and glad to have the task almost done.
When she tasted the tensions in the carriage, however, and saw the detachment Leander had wrapped about himself, when she thought of what Charles Knollis had tried to do to her children, she was well on her way to giving in to hate.
The sky cleared as the day went on, but that meant it grew colder. Even in the carriage Judith and the children huddled in blankets; she could not imagine what it was like up on the box. At each change, Leander commanded hot bricks to put on the floor against their feet, and hot toddy for all, though the children's was well diluted. Even so, it made them sleepy as the day went on, and their fretfulness decreased.
As they left the post road—the light already fading, and the moon a mere sliver—Judith suddenly asked, "Is your friend expecting us?"
"I sent a rider on ahead," Leander said. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"I'm not sure what to expect of you Rogues. What if it is not convenient? The Delaneys will not feel able to turn us away."
"Convenience doesn't enter into it," he said flatly. "If there had been no one at home, my messenger would have returned."
She could not like it. "How long is it since you last saw this Nicholas Delaney?"
He thought about it. "Oh, we bumped into one another in Salzburg three or four years ago. We've corresponded."
Judith opened her mouth then shut it again.
Leander noticed. "I turned up on Lucien's doorstep with no warning, and I'd not seen him since eighteen-ten. I haven't been in the country much."
Judith sighed. So she and her children were to be foisted on strangers without so much as a please. It was going to be a very difficult visit.
There was just enough moon for them to push on after dark with the aid of lamps, but after ten hours of almost uninterrupted travel, Judith had begun to feel they would roll on forever when they finally turned in open gates. Through immense old trees which must give the house its name, she glimpsed a solid, square house with bright welcoming windows. She prayed it would be all right.
She gently woke the children. Rosie rubbed her eyes miserably, but Bastian leant out to see where they were.
By the time the coach had arrived at the door, it was open, spilling golden light into the cold dark, and people were emerging. Judith had a confused impression of a pleasant man and woman, and cheerful servants, as she and the children were bustled into the warmth. The overwhelming feeling, however, was ungrudging welcome.
They were in a brightly lit room, heated by a large fire, when she had opportunity to take in her companions. The children were sitting on a sofa, being talked to by a handsome, auburn-haired woman. Leander was in conference with a blond man, presumably Nicholas Delaney. Leander looked, she noted, as if a burden had been lifted, and she realized how grueling the journey had been for him, too.
"Lady Charrington?"
Judith looked up to see that her hostess had taken a seat be
side her.
"You must be exhausted," said Eleanor Delaney. "Your children must truly be tired for they are admitting it, and say they only want a little something to eat before their beds. I thought to order bread and milk for them if they like it."
"Yes," said Judith gratefully. "That would be just the thing."
"And there will be food laid out for you in the dining room in a trice, but I'm sure you would like some tea."
Eleanor went off to give orders, and Judith went to her weary children. "This seems a very pleasant house," she said. "I'm sure we'll like it here."
"Why can't we go to the Temple, Mama?" Bastian asked, almost with a whine in his voice.
"We can, and we will, but this is far enough for one day. Besides, Papa Leander is not sure his relatives will make us welcome, as they have lived there for so long. He wants to handle that before we arrive. It will only take a few days." She decided to give their thoughts a different turn. "When we arrive, it will be time to prepare for Christmas. We will have to make up our decorations, and cut vast quantities of fir, and holly, and ivy, to decorate the house. We'll need to see if we can find mistletoe, too."
"I'm good at finding mistletoe, Mama," said Bastian, brightening.
"Yes, I know, but this will be a new place to explore, so you won't know all the best trees."
She turned as Leander led their host to them. "Judith, may I present Nicholas Delaney. Nicholas, this is my wife, and my new children, Bastian and Rosie."
Bastian and Rosie struggled to their feet to make their bow and curtsy.
"Trust Lee to do things with such panache," said Nicholas Delaney with a smile for them all. "Not just a marriage, but a ready-made family. You are very welcome," he said, and made the words utterly convincing. "Did I hear some talk of mistletoe? Tomorrow we were planning a foraging expedition ourselves, and we need lots of help."
"I'm good at finding mistletoe," said Bastian proudly. "Apple trees are the best, you know."
"Are they? Well, we have an orchard, and if we had someone to climb the trees..."
Judith looked at Leander and smiled. He smiled back. It was going to be all right.
Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] Page 23