Glory and the Rake

by Deborah Simmons

  ‘Just that he is rumoured to have visited the spa with Elizabeth, that he served as her adviser, and may have been connected with the gift she gave to the well.’

  Glory’s innocuous answer did little to placate Miss Thorpe, who advanced threateningly. ‘As soon as I learned of you coming here, I knew you had discovered something,’ she said, spitting the words. ‘Why else would you suddenly appear in Philtwell to resume operations of a long-dead enterprise?’

  ‘We returned to restore our family’s heritage,’ Glory said. She spoke calmly, in an effort to soothe the young woman whose sudden venom was alarming. Glory did not care to try to dodge a bullet, and she glanced around for anything she could use against her opponent.

  ‘Have you found it? Do you have the globe?’ Miss Thorpe demanded.

  ‘Globe?’ Glory asked, genuinely puzzled.

  Miss Thorpe smiled, as though pleased by Glory’s ignorance. ‘The globe, you fool, is the most valuable of Dr Dee’s possessions. His mirror was acquired by Walpole, who did not know what he had, let alone what to do with it. But no one has ever found the crystal globe, the real source of his power.’

  The woman must be referring to what Westfield dismissed as Dee’s ‘mystic nonsense’. And Glory had to agree with the duke, for how could an object possess any abilities? How had Miss Thorpe reached her conclusions, which seemed implausible at best? Glory peered at the volatile young woman, wondering just how credible she might be.

  ‘But why would Dr Dee give away something like that, especially if, as you claim, no one else could use it?’ Glory asked.

  Miss Thorpe shook her head. ‘You know nothing, do you? It has been working its magic for centuries, but soon it will work other magic, magic that I will direct. For too long its power has been wasted on these waters, to serve the foolish longings of your silly patrons.’

  Glory blinked. ‘You think something Dr Dee owned is responsible for the old legends about the water’s properties?’

  ‘I don’t think it. I know it,’ Miss Thorpe said. ‘Dee bestowed his Gift upon the owners of the well, so that everyone who drank from it would experience the same romantic euphoria as had the queen herself.’

  ‘Queen Elizabeth?’ Glory asked, incredulous. In all her reading, she had never come across anything about the Virgin Queen falling in love, especially here at her family’s spa.

  ‘Of course, you fool,’ Miss Thorpe said, sneering.

  ‘But that legend goes much further back than Elizabeth’s visit,’ Glory said. ‘The Romans were here centuries before, and the name they gave the place was Aquae Philtri, the spa of the philtre, especially of love.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Miss Thorpe said, and Glory realised that she should not have shared that particular bit of information with someone holding a weapon. Whether through madness or desperation or pure fantasy, Miss Thorpe had built her house of cards upon a faulty premise, and she would not thank Glory for knocking it down.

  In fact, for one dark moment, Glory thought the woman was going to shoot, but instead, her expression settled into one of determination. ‘We shall see soon enough,’ she said. ‘For you will find it for me.’

  ‘What?’ Glory asked, alarmed.

  ‘I think it only appropriate that you, who stole so much from my family, should be responsible for some measure of justice.’

  ‘But how?’ Glory asked. Thad had been poking about Sutton House for some time, and he had found nothing. And, obviously, Miss Thorpe, despite all her attempts, had come up empty-handed, as well.

  The young woman smiled, but the effect was disturbing. ‘It’s here, perhaps right where you are standing,’ she said, her pale face flushing with excitement. ‘I knew the moment I saw the mural that the Gift was here all along.’

  ‘But the painting shows the queen standing outside the house, on the grounds,’ Glory said.

  ‘It’s a symbol for the spa,’ Miss Thorpe said, dismissively. ‘And if only I had seen it earlier, we could have avoided all that unpleasantness at your precious Pump Room,’ Miss Thorpe said, as she began walking around the cellar.

  Glory inched away, but the woman swung towards her. ‘I could have come and taken the Gift, and no one would have been the wiser. But it wasn’t until I saw some writings about Buxton Hall, the site of Buxton’s well, and engravings of other wells, replaced over the years, that I began to suspect the truth.’

  ‘What truth?’ Glory asked.

  Miss Thorpe paused, her eyes shining. ‘The original pump was here, beneath the house, which was built around it,’ she said. ‘This residence is where Queen Elizabeth stayed when she visited. In fact, all the guests were housed here before the inns were built, and the Assembly Rooms, and the new Pump Room.’

  Glory glanced around the cellar, suddenly aware of how the space might have been used in Elizabeth’s time, and she cursed herself for abandoning her older research materials in favour of the modern ledgers and guestbooks. Still, there was quite a difference between discovering the old pump and finding the Queen’s Gift, a quest that was bound to disappoint Miss Thorpe. And then, what she would do? Glory did not like to consider the possibilities.

  ‘Here,’ the young woman said, suddenly. She was standing by some sort of partition that had been built in the darkest part of the cellar, and Glory shuddered, struck by a sudden coldness. Sutton House had never filled her with dread, but now she experienced the same eerie sensation that she had known so often since coming to Philtwell: a malevolent presence watching her…

  Drawing in a harsh breath, Glory realised that it was this woman all along, not Dr Tibold or Westfield or the Fairmans or any nameless, faceless man. It was Miss Thorpe, and all Glory could do was turn and face the enmity in her eyes.

  ‘Open it,’ the young woman said.

  Glory didn’t understand what Miss Thorpe wanted until she jerked her head towards the partition. Or was it a tall crate whose top disappeared into the shadows? Stepping closer, Glory realised that there were narrow strips of blackness visible between the wooden slats, making it seem more like a cage than anything else.

  The knowledge made Glory shiver, as did the thought of being locked away inside. For who would ever find her? Her heart pounding, Glory decided at that moment that she would do anything, risk everything, to avoid entering that dark chamber.

  But she schooled her expression to reveal none of her intent as she turned to face her enemy. ‘How?’ Glory asked. ‘I’ll need a hammer or a crowbar.’ She glanced around, eager to get her hands on something that might be used against her opponent, but Miss Thorpe shook her head.

  ‘Just use your fingers,’ she said, with a sneer. ‘I thought you Suttons were clever and resourceful.’

  Turning her back in order to hide her reaction, Glory took a deep breath and began to examine the wood as well as she could in the dim light. The carpentry was poor, as though the work had been completed quickly, rather than carefully. But Glory tried not to imagine the reasons for such haste. Instead, she looked for a loose board that she could get her fingers around, in order to make some noise, if nothing else.

  Finding an end that was not nailed securely, Glory pretended to work at freeing it, while banging loudly in the hope that someone, even if only a servant, would come down to investigate unusual noises emanating from below. But Sutton House was a large residence, built of stone, and Glory did not know if the cellar was even used these days. She remembered the heavy door and wondered when it had last been opened.

  But Glory could do little else, so she kept at her task, while above her the household continued on, the servants about their work and the residents blithely unaware of her plight. Perhaps Westfield had already taken off for London, leaving only Thad, lying abed, and an elderly man still recovering from a long illness to come to her rescue.

  They were grim prospects indeed.

  Oberon frowned at his plate. He had waited in the dining room so long that the remainder of his eggs had congealed into a sickening lump upon his plate. His
mother and Pettit had come and gone, and still there was no sign of Miss Sutton. Finally, he asked a passing maid to check upon her, but the girl returned with the news that Miss Sutton was not in her room.

  Oberon felt a nagging unease, which he dismissed. No doubt Miss Sutton had skipped breakfast entirely in order to spend the morning with her brother. Rising to his feet, Oberon went directly to Thad’s room, where he found the boy seated by the window in his dressing gown, eating from a tray. But there was no one else.

  ‘Where’s your sister?’ Oberon asked.

  The boy eyed him cannily.

  ‘Perhaps I should be asking your intentions.’

  Oberon frowned, unwilling to discuss his personal situation with anyone, let alone a mere boy. But how many times had he told Miss Sutton to treat her brother as the man he was becoming?

  ‘They are honourable,’ Oberon said.

  Thad grinned. ‘Good, because I would hate to have to give you a good bruising, though I am feeling considerably better.’

  Oberon smiled at the youth’s humour, but his amusement faded in the face of Miss Sutton’s absence. ‘Has she been here at all this morning?’ he asked. ‘I can’t find her.’

  Thad did not appear alarmed. ‘You’re bound to have your hands full with Glory. She’s used to her independence. Mind you, she’s pluck to the backbone, but you must know she doesn’t take well to being ordered about. And there’s no denying that you are used to doing the ordering,’ Thad said, cocking his head as if to study Oberon like a sample of well water.

  ‘Not that I’d call you arrogant, but where Glory’s concerned, you’re just going to have to let her have her head, loosen the leads, that sort of thing, if you mean to get on. Or meet in the middle, you might say.’

  Oberon recovered himself with some difficulty. ‘Do you recall what I told you last night?’

  Thad looked a bit chagrined. ‘Truth to tell, I was a bit under the weather, and that physician made me drink something. Why, when I saw you and Glory together, I rather thought I was dreaming the whole thing.’

  Oberon shrugged off the knowledge that he should have held his tongue on the subject of his intentions towards Miss Sutton. Instead, he tried to focus on imparting some sense into her brother. ‘Last night I told you that the Fairmans were not responsible for the vandalism, the destruction or the near murder on the crags. They didn’t do any of it.’

  Thad looked at him for one long moment, then swallowed hard as the truth dawned on him. ‘Which means that Glory being missing…’ he began, only to trail off, wide-eyed.

  ‘Your sister might be in danger.’

  Although Glory had hoped to lull Miss Thorpe into complacency, the young woman was too agitated to let down her guard. And she was starting to become suspicious about the noise, telling Glory to be quiet and produce results. Scanning the immediate area, Glory was tempted to duck behind the wooden structure and head for the shadows. But did she really want to play such a deadly game of tag? Any sudden movement might mean a bullet that could kill her or lay her low. And then she would well and truly be at the mercy of this woman.

  And should she escape immediate injury, where would she go? Glory had never thought to wish herself back at the cottage, but there were too few places here to hide and only one way out. She glanced at the wide steps and knew she would never reach them without disarming Miss Thorpe. But the cellar of Sutton House was not cluttered with cricket bats and other potential weapons.

  Her mind racing, Glory kept tugging at the loose piece of wood, which finally separated from its berth with a loud crack, nearly slicing open her palm with the rusty nail that protruded. Swallowing a gasp, Glory realised that this was her best chance, for the sharp shaft that had worked against her could work for her, especially since it was lodged within the heavy board.

  Glory carefully lowered the slat in front of her, burying the telltale nail among the folds of her skirts. Although she appeared to be setting the piece aside, she simply transferred it to her left hand. And then she made a show of peering into the gaping hole she had made, her empty right hand gripping the opening.

  ‘There’s nothing in there,’ Glory said, though anything could have been hiding in the black interior.

  ‘What? Let me see,’ Miss Thorpe demanded, waving Glory aside.

  Glory inched out of the way, but stayed close enough so that when Miss Thorpe stepped forwards, she was able to make her move. Swinging her makeshift weapon as best she could with her left hand, Glory could not muster the power that she wanted. Still, the board caught Miss Thorpe around the knees, and she twisted wildly, the pistol in her hand discharging its bullet.

  It whizzed past Glory’s ear, too close for comfort, and she was not about to let the woman load the weapon again. But that was not Miss Thorpe’s intent. Her rage, her madness, or whatever drove her had reached its breaking point, and, releasing a shriek of fury, she flung the gun at Glory’s hand, causing her to drop the board.

  Flinching, Glory took one look at her opponent and realised that her strength was no match for that of a lunatic. Knowing her only hope lay in surprise, she did not bend to retrieve either weapon, but lunged forwards, swinging her arm with all the force she could muster. The facer that she had so diligently practised connected to Miss Thorpe’s jaw with a sickening crack before the woman staggered and fell.

  Above the thundering of her heart, Glory thought she heard frantic knocking, and, for one wild moment, she looked at the wooden structure beside her as if it truly held a prisoner. But then she realised that the sound was that of footsteps halting behind her. A hush fell over the cellar, then Thad’s admiring voice rang out.

  ‘Dem, Glory’s floored a female.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Glory turned to see her brother and Westfield standing on the steps, she felt such waves of relief that she swayed upon her feet. The Queen’s Gift, Miss Thorpe’s mad actions and even her own ordeal faded at the sight of the man she had thought long gone to London—and out of her life.

  He was at her side in an instant, taking her in his arms without regard to propriety or her brother’s presence. And as he pulled her close, Glory felt like weeping, not because of what had happened, but for want of his embrace—and all the nameless obligations that conspired to keep her from it.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and Glory nodded against his waistcoat. For now.

  Thad showed no surprise at the extraordinary display and strode past them to the partition. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  ‘Supposedly it’s the original pump for the spa, as well as the site of the Queen’s Gift,’ Glory said.

  ‘What?’ Thad needed no further encouragement, but set about tearing away the shaky structure, showing no sign that he must have left his bed only recently.

  Glory opened her mouth to protest the exertion, but Westfield shook his head. ‘He’s young and resilient,’ the duke said, as though privy to her thoughts. And Glory wondered just how much of her mind—and heart—he could see.

  ‘Look at this,’ Thad called with the enthusiasm to prove it, and Glory was glad that his recent bruising had caused no lasting effects. He turned towards them eagerly. ‘We need to get a lantern in here.’

  Eventually, lanterns were obtained, the partition dismantled, and the pump uncovered, though Glory felt only dismay upon seeing it. More fanciful than functional, it resembled a fountain made out of heavy stone, dark with age and rather forbidding. To her mind, the new Pump Room was far preferable to trooping into a cellar, no matter how spacious, as well as being more conducive to society, if not romance.

  ‘But where’s the Queen’s Gift?’ Thad asked, his disappointment obvious.

  Before Glory could put a damper on his enthusiasm, Westfield spoke up. ‘I doubt that the Suttons would have left it in plain sight all those years, for the public would have come in here to partake of the waters. And even after they removed to the new Pump Room, family members and staff would have had access to the cellar.’ />
  The duke walked around the original well, tapping upon the old stone and peering into every curve and crevice. Then he put the lantern on the floor and examined the base. Finally, he knelt down to study the tiles all around it, pointing to one that looked no different from any of the others, at least to Glory’s eyes.

  ‘See that?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’ Thad asked, leaning down to squint at the floor.

  ‘The edge is damaged,’ Oberon said. ‘That might have happened in the creation or laying of the piece, or it could have been tampered with at some point over the years.’

  That was all the incentive Thad needed; soon he was scrambling for a tool to lift the tile. ‘Perhaps you should check with the owner of Sutton House before ripping up his floor,’ Glory said.

  ‘He gives his permission,’ Westfield said and Glory wondered whether he and Mr Pettit had an understanding. Certainly the duke could afford to pay for any repairs to the property.

  Still, she felt more comfortable with the excavation when Westfield assumed control. He was more careful than Thad, his long, lean fingers gently working at the spot in a way that made Glory flush. And when he managed to free the piece, it remained intact, so he was able to set it aside and investigate the wood flooring below, continuing with his methodical approach.

  Soon, he had found a loose board beneath, as well. It covered a hidey-hole that had Thad practically capering with glee. ‘Is there anything in there? What do you see?’ her brother asked, crowding close and dangling the lantern even closer.

  But Westfield would not be rushed, and he peered into the opening as though wary of some trap that might take any fingers he inserted. Glory could only admire his good sense when he rigged a couple of hooks and lowered them into the blackness.

  His retrieval system eventually produced a heavy box, intricately carved, and obviously old, perhaps even dating to the time of Elizabeth. Now, even Glory, who had eyed the Queen’s Gift with scepticism, felt a heady anticipation when the duke laid the elaborate container upon the floor.