by Dorothy Mack
“I … I don’t believe this!” Horace Ridgemont had fallen back in horror at the other’s terse pronouncement. Now he raised a hand to his face and rubbed it, disarranging his hair even more.
“I fear you will have to believe it, and more. This was not the first attempt on Sarah’s life. Last night, a wire was strung across the top of those stairs on the next floor to trip Sarah when she brought a tray downstairs to the kitchen as she was in the habit of doing each evening. Fortunately on two counts, one of the maids took the tray instead, and Sarah, who was coming up the stairs at the time, managed to break the girl’s fall, or your wife would be a murderess at this moment.”
“Madeleine, have you nothing to say to these accusations?” Horace rushed past the viscount to stare down at his wife, who was keening softly and rocking back and forth in her chair. “Madeleine!”
“I failed, Horace, I failed,” the woman moaned. “She should be dead. She has broken William’s heart. I knew she did not love him, but he wanted her. I would have let her live if she had agreed to marry William, but when I saw her kissing Eversley in the conservatory, I knew she had to die. How could I let her live, the wife of another man, in the very neighbourhood where William will live? It would break his heart every day of his life to have her near with her children, his children. Do you not see, Horace, I had to kill her, but I failed. I failed my son.”
For a long moment, the awful keening of the woman rocking rhythmically in the chair was the only sound in the room. Mark glanced over to the bed: Sarah had her head on Lottie’s shoulder, and the older woman was running a hand up and down her arm as she held her closely. His eyes went to Horace Ridgemont’s ghastly countenance as comprehension forced itself upon him. Slowly, the stricken man straightened up and faced Lord Eversley.
“What do you intend to do?”
Mark’s harsh aspect softened marginally in the face of the other’s suffering, and he said quite gently, “You know that she will have to be restrained?”
The older man winced, but his features firmed, those formidable Ridgemont nostrils flaring momentarily. “Yes. She will have to remain at Alderby, but it was her family home, and it is where she is happiest. We are leaving tomorrow. Of course I shall see to it that she is attended constantly until our departure.” He turned his head and addressed his niece. “There is nothing I can say to you, Sarah, except that I am deeply sorry.”
“I … I understand, Uncle. I am sorry too,” she replied, barely above a whisper.
Mark stood back while Mr. Ridgemont coaxed his wife out of her chair and eased her toward the hall door. He stationed himself to screen the figures on the bed, but Mrs. Ridgemont did not even glance in that direction as she left, complaining fretfully of a headache, which her husband assured her would be treated as soon as they gained their apartment.
The second the door closed, Sarah flew off the bed and cast herself into her fiancé’s arms, arms that received her thankfully and closed about her in protective urgency. “You saved my life, Mark,” she whispered into his neck.
“And now it belongs to me,” he said fiercely, tightening his hold.
“Always.”
They were just emerging from a passionate kiss when a dry voice stated, “I’m still here.”
“So you are, Miss Miller.” The viscount lifted his head and laughed, albeit a trifle shakily. “And here you will remain for the rest of the night, I trust.”
“Nothing and nobody could induce me to leave Sarah alone in this room while that archfiend remains in this house.”
“Oh, Lottie, I feel so sorry for her. She is so pathetic.”
“Pathetic, is it? If Lord Eversley had not been next door, you’d be dead now at the hands of that wicked creature. And what were you doing hiding in that room, sir? Did you suspect her?”
“Not until this afternoon. When Richard told me about the wire, I tried to persuade Sarah to stay at Eversley until the family left Beech Hill, but she refused.” He gave his beloved a token shake.
“I really thought the danger was past once it was known that neither Richard nor I was the principal heir. I must confess that I suspected Aunt Adelaide because she hated me so.”
“Adelaide Townsend has many unpleasant characteristics, but she is not unhinged. When I witnessed the way Mrs. Ridgemont went for Vincent this afternoon, I realized that she was unbalanced, and an unbalanced mind is capable of anything. Far from accepting that the danger was over, I felt that the woman hated Sarah on William’s account. After all, he had urged Sarah not to let his mother know she had refused his offer —”
“Mark! Are you saying William knew his mother would try to kill me, and did not warn me? No, never!”
“No, darling. I am saying nothing of the sort, but I believe William knows his mother’s love for him is obsessive. He probably feared some kind of frightful scene if she thought you had wounded him. I doubt he suspected she was capable of murder. Most of us would have difficulty accepting that anyone close to us could possess such a dark side.”
“So you decided to stay here to guard Sarah tonight, and Richard helped you,” Lottie surmised.
“Correct, Miss Miller. We planned it at tea after Sarah refused to go to Eversley. I walked back here through the woods tonight so no one should see me arrive, and Richard let me in a side door. He had taken the key to the servant’s room while the family was at dinner so that Sarah could not lock me out, but she didn’t take the precaution of locking any doors tonight. If she had, she would have discovered that the key to the hall door was also missing. I assume Mrs. Ridgemont took it while she was supposed to be prostrated by a headache this afternoon,” he added somewhat dryly, and Sarah’s lip trembled.
“I really did believe the danger was over, Mark.”
“I know, sweetheart. It is over now.” He smoothed the long tousled hair back from her wet cheek and bent to kiss her again. “It tears me apart to leave you tonight,” he murmured softly, but Lottie’s ears were keen.
“Nevertheless, leave her you must, Lord Eversley, and right now too. Sarah needs to rest and recover from this hideous experience,” she asserted, her arms folded in front of her meagre chest in an aggressive stance.
Mark eyed her with respect and took a step back from Sarah. “I’ll go downstairs and bring your grandfather up to date and see Richard off to bed,” he promised.
He had already opened the door and was framed in the doorway when Sarah suddenly ran after him, her bronze tresses flowing over her shoulders in enticing disarray, her soft rose draperies revealing the lovely lines of her body, a long length of leg and delectable bare feet. She slid her hands up over his shoulders and brought his head down for a final kiss.
“Ladies are forever embracing you in open doorways,” she said with a glint in her eyes that foretold a quick recovery. “But this time you are well and truly compromised, sir. You’ll have to marry me to save your reputation.”
“Sarah Ridgemont,” cried Lottie, mortified at such indelicacy from a girl she had raised.
“Name the day,” challenged Lord Eversley, wickedly appreciative of this same indelicacy from his future wife.
EPILOGUE
There could not be a finer fall day than this one, the new Viscountess Eversley decided, smiling at the groom who helped her to dismount. She gave the chestnut filly a valedictory pat and a lump of sugar, gathered up the skirts of her elegant cinnamon-brown habit, tossed them over her arm, and started through the gardens that were still a riot of colour, pulling off her gloves as she went. With little time to change before lunch, she hurried her step until, catching sight of her husband’s dark head inside the conservatory, she promptly changed direction.
“Hello, Sleepyhead,” the viscount greeted her when he turned at the sound of a light step.
Sarah pouted a little. “I know I overslept this morning, but you were gone when I got to the breakfast parlour.”
“Couldn’t help it, my love. I had an early meeting scheduled with my bailiff.” He pull
ed her into his arms and kissed her lingeringly. “Good morning, Lady Eversley.”
Though she had cooperated enthusiastically, Sarah still felt obligated to register a feeble protest in the name of decorum. “Mark, not here. We can be seen by anyone crossing the gardens.”
“Let them look.” He kissed her again. “Been to Beech Hill?”
“Yes, and at long last I feel able to claim fair proficiency as an equestrian. No aches, pains, or twinges after a six-mile round-trip, no moments of lost control, and my posture was perfect.”
“I have never complained about your posture,” he murmured with a provocative leer that dignity demanded she ignore.
“You did when you were teaching me to ride last spring. You said I looked like a lumpy sack of potatoes.”
“I must have been out of my mind,” Mark admitted, eyeing his wife’s trim figure with masculine appreciation.
“I received two letters today,” Sarah put in hastily, seeking to return the conversation to a rational basis, “one from Richard and one from William.”
“And how is my esteemed brother-in-law enjoying his first weeks at Harrow?”
“You know Richard; he’s like a cat. Wherever you throw him, he lands on his feet. He is fine and happy and has made several friends already. I rode over to read his letter to Grandfather, but he had received one also.”
“I trust the general is bearing up under the separation?”
“He’s a bit lonely after all the excitement of a wedding and having a youngster about the house, but he would never admit it, of course. We played chess.”
“And?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “He gave me an awful drubbing.”
“I’ll give him a game tomorrow and try to restore the family honour.”
“Thank you, darling. He does love to have us drop in frequently.” She hesitated a moment and he waited patiently. “William has been down to Alderby to visit his mother.” Mark schooled his features to impassivity as Sarah went on, “She does not seem to recall anything of what happened in March, but William was more concerned with her physical health, which has deteriorated rapidly in the last few months. No one knew she had a weakness in the lungs. Mark, do you think it is very wicked of me not to hope for her recovery? I fear that William will never dare to marry while his mother lives.” Her troubled eyes sought his, and he hugged her shoulders in wordless reassurance.
“William writes that his father feels that a great deal of the responsibility for what happened belongs to him because he never really loved his wife. It was an arranged marriage, you know. Uncle Horace believes that, in consequence, Mrs. Ridgemont poured all her affection on William to an unhealthy degree. He could see it but could do nothing to counter it except treat both boys equally himself. I wish —”
“Do not have that family on your mind, my love. There is nothing you can do. They must work out their own destiny.”
She sighed. “I know you are right, but… Oh, I nearly forgot! William had one piece of happy news to impart. He was present at a birthday dinner for Arabella a few days ago.”
Mark laughed. “Aha! I wondered where Rydell was off to when I saw him in Marshfield yesterday. I think we may safely assume that you will shortly have your cousin for a neighbour. Shall we get ready for lunch?” He put down the pot plant he had been examining and dusted off his hands.
“In a moment. I have something to tell you first. This seems a fitting place. It is where you first kissed me,” Sarah said, a dreamy expression spreading over her glowing countenance as she looked up rather shyly into chocolate-brown eyes that assumed a melting quality as comprehension dawned.
Mark gathered her hands together and raised them to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. “Are you sure?”
“Well, I have not yet seen the doctor, but, yes, darling, I believe your mother will soon have that dark-eyed little grandson she has been longing to cuddle.”
Mark was heard to murmur that a little girl the image of her beautiful mother would be equally acceptable before he abandoned words for a more suitable demonstration of his happiness.
Sweet clear chimes rang out from the interior of the house, but the couple in the conservatory were happily oblivious of the sound. On a crisp, bright early-autumn day, Lord and Lady Eversley were about to commit the solecism of being late for lunch.
***
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ALSO BY DOROTHY MACK
The Substitute Bride
The Raven Sisters
The Impossible Ward
A Companion in Joy
The Belle of Bath
The Last Waltz
An Unconventional Courtship
A Prior Attachment
The Reluctant Heart
The Unlikely Chaperone
The Mock Marriage
The Courtship of Chloe
The Lost Heir
The Awakening Heart
Temporary Betrothal
The Counterfeit Widow
The Gamester’s Daughter
The Gold Scent Bottle
The Abducted Bride
The Steadfast Heart
Published by Sapere Books.
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Copyright © Dorothy Mack, 1990
Dorothy Mack has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-913518-30-1