The Arrangement

by Joan Wolf

  Not on my part. That answer came almost instantly. I loved and admired almost everything about him. Even if I could have, I wouldn’t have changed a hair on his head.

  On the other hand, there were probably quite a few things he would change about me.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked Ginny cautiously.

  “It must be the gloomy day loosening my tongue,” she replied. “That, and being worried about the mad archer.” Once more she rubbed her temples. “There’s nothing like a good gossip to take one’s mind off one’s troubles,” she said semi-humorously.

  “Yes…” I said slowly. “I suppose that is so.”

  * * * *

  I chose a book that Ginny recommended, not one of the gothic romances that had always sounded so silly to me but a delightful book about people whom one could actually imagine knowing. It was called Pride and Prejudice and it kept me enthralled for all of the morning and most of the afternoon. In fact, I was still curled up in the library in a large leather chair that faced the fireplace and had its back to the door when Mr. Cole came into the room with a man whose voice I immediately recognized as that of the Mr. Wickham I had met at the Black Swan.

  The men did not move very far from the door, and my presence was hidden from them by the back of my chair. At first I was so involved in my book that I did not realize that anyone had come in, but when the men began to talk, and I recognized their voices, I listened shamelessly.

  Now, in the normal course of things, of course I would have made my presence known. But things were far from normal at Savile Castle these days and I was fully prepared to put aside the niceties of good manners if it would help me to learn anything that might shed light on the mysterious accidents that had beset us of late.

  The two men were speaking in low voices, but, fortunately, my hearing was excellent.

  Wickham said, “I am pleased to be able to inform you that I have in my possession the paper that you desire.”

  “Let me see it, then,” Cole returned in a grim-sounding voice.

  Wickham laughed with genuine amusement. “Do you think I’m a fool? I’m not handing it over to you just like that. It would be only too easy for you to rip it up before I could get it back, and then I’d be out all my money. It’s not the sort of paper that can be replaced.”

  It occurred to me suddenly that the name of the villain in Pride and Prejudice was Wickham. This Wickham did not seem very much better.

  “How did you get your mitts on it?” Cole asked.

  “I’ve been rummaging around among my brother’s things for weeks and I finally found it. I didn’t think he would have destroyed it; he’s too weak to have done that. He’s just the sort who would hold on to it, and worry about it, and do nothing. Well, now he doesn’t have it any longer— I do. And I plan to do something with it.”

  Stealing from his own brother. This Wickham sounded like a very pleasant fellow indeed, I thought.

  “Does your brother know you’ve got it?” Cole asked.

  “No. But it’s not the sort of paper you can deny, is it? Everything is in order, just like I told you.”

  I heard Mr. Cole pacing back and forth. He seemed to be coming closer to me. My heart began to beat harder and I made myself as still as I could in my chair.

  “Well, if you’ve got the goods all right, then I’ll buy them from you,” Mr. Cole said at last.

  “That’s what I’m here for. But you’ve got to come up with the blunt.”

  Now it seemed that Wickham’s voice was moving closer. My heart was hammering in my chest. Please, please, I thought, stay by the door. Don’t come any closer to this chair.

  I couldn’t bear to lose the chance to find out something that might bear on the strange accidents we had been having at Savile.

  They were still moving closer to me.

  “Oh, I can come up with the dibs all right, sonny,” Mr. Cole said. “That piece of paper, if it really exists, is easily worth a thousand pounds to me.”

  “A thousand pounds! It’s worth bloody more than that, Cole, and you know it.”

  I fought to keep myself from trying to make myself even smaller in the chair. My best chance not to be discovered was not to move at all.

  “What do you want for it, then?”

  “I want twenty thousand pounds.”

  Mr. Cole laughed. It was not an amiable sound. “I didn’t get where I am, sonny, by playing ducks and drakes with my money. You’ll get no twenty thousand pounds from Albert Cole.”

  I heard the urgency in Wickham’s voice as he said, “Think what it will mean to you to have that paper, Cole. Think what it will mean for you to be able to destroy it for good and all. I think that is worth twenty thousand pounds, don’t you?”

  There was a long, tense silence. Then Cole said, “Ten thousand.”

  “Twenty and not a penny less.”

  “Ten,” Cole repeated firmly. “That paper ain’t worth a penny to anyone but myself. Oh, you can take it to Savile if you want, but he ain’t going to give you any money for it. You will only be spiting yourself if you do that, Wickham. Ten thousand pounds. That’s my offer, take it or leave it.”

  There was a long pause, during which I could feel Wickham’s discontent vibrating through the room. Then he said sulkily, “Oh, all right. Ten thousand pounds.”

  I heard the exhale of Mr. Cole’s breath and felt his relief. “Very good, very good. I’ll have to see my bankers before I can make a payment. You are still staying at the Black Swan?”

  “Yes.” Wickham’s sulkiness was even more pronounced.

  “Good, good. Once I have the blunt, I will call upon you there.” Their voices began to recede, as if they were walking toward the door. “You shouldn’t have come here today, Wickham. It wasn’t wise.”

  Wickham replied, “It was raining and I knew you would never venture forth to Henley, and I wanted to tell you that I had the paper.”

  “So badly under the hatches that you can’t wait an extra day, eh?” Mr. Cole asked sardonically.

  Once again the sulky note marred Wickham’s voice as he said, “My investments have not prospered as well as yours…”

  The voices trailed away as the two of them left the room, and I sat in my chair, staring at the fireplace with my book lying unregarded in my lap.

  What on earth was this piece of paper that was so important to Albert Cole? I wondered. Could it have anything to do with the dangerous happenings at Savile Castle?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Rain continued to pour down all day long, and when Raoul still had not come back from London by dinnertime I assumed that he had decided to wait until the following day to return with the runners. When I went upstairs to the nursery, however, it was to find two burly-looking, craggy-faced men, one of whom had two broken front teeth, sitting on chairs outside the schoolroom door.

  The boys were in awe.

  “His lordship sent them to look after us, Mama,” Nicky told me.

  “They used to be prizefighters, Mrs. Saunders,” Charlie told me with great reverence.

  “Uncle Raoul told them to protect us with their very lives.” Theo’s eyes were stretched wide.

  Mr. Wilson said briskly, “His lordship told me that he does not know precisely what is going on at Savile, but that he wishes to make certain the children are safe. That is why he has hired the…er…gentlemen whom you saw sitting in the passageway.”

  “Well, I think that is very wise of his lordship,” I said. “One can never be too careful, and Johnny Wester’s death certainly raises some very serious questions.”

  All the boys nodded solemnly.

  “Er…have you seen his lordship?” I asked Mr. Wilson.

  “No. He did not return with the gentlemen outside,” the tutor told me. “Evidently he had other business to attend to in London.”

  I tried not to allow my face to show my disappointment and my worry. I might not have known Raoul for very long but I knew that it was not like him t
o disappear at a time like this.

  I spent an hour with the children in the nursery playing a board game and then went down to have my dinner, which, lacking Raoul, was as subdued and dreary as the weather.

  Harriet maintained her usual silence. Mr. Cole appeared to be in a good humor, but he too said little. John tried to keep up a courteous conversation with me, and Roger looked restless and bored. Ginny made me want to scream by saying every five minutes, “I wonder where Raoul is,” until finally Roger said bitingly, “Ginny, if you say that one more time I shall certainly do something drastic.”

  Ginny looked furious, and I silently applauded Roger.

  I didn’t stay around for the tea tray but took Pride and Prejudice up to my bedroom and finished it in the warmth of the coal fire that had been lit against the dampness of the night.

  A fire in July, I thought. Raoul certainly lived in the height of luxury.

  Where was he? Why had he not told me that he wouldn’t return this evening? I knew it was not the weather that kept him away. A man who was intrepid enough to drive through a blizzard would certainly not let a little rain slow him down.

  Was my refusal to confide in him so great a sin that whatever was between us was finished and this was his way of telling me so?

  It was not finished for me, of course. No matter where I went or what I did, it would never be finished for me. But, sadly, there were some things that could not be said between us; there were simply some loyalties that I could not betray.

  If he could not understand that, then we were indeed at a standstill.

  At that thought, I felt as if a knife turned in my heart.

  At two in the morning I gave up trying to go to sleep and went down to the library to get the copy of Sense and Sensibility I had seen reposing on the shelf next to Pride and Prejudice. I was surprised to find Roger there, sitting at the big mahogany library table with a bottle of wine and a glass in front of him.

  He was clearly drunk.

  “Well, well, well, look who’s here,” he said, looking up with a strange glitter in his brilliant blue eyes. “If it isn’t Savile’s own personal little bed warmer. What are you doing down here, sweetheart? Lonely because Raoul ain’t home?”

  “No,” I said stiffly. “I came for a book.”

  “Can’t sleep, eh?” he asked in mock sympathy. “Got an itch that needs to be scratched? I can help you with that, if you like. I’ve been wanting to do it since first I laid eyes on you, if you want to know the truth.”

  I said contemptuously, “You are disgusting, Roger.”

  He shrugged and poured himself more wine.

  “I may be disgusting, sweetheart, but if you think Raoul is going to marry you, you are a fool. My dear cousin is far too aware of his own worth to marry some indigent little widow with a bastard brat.”

  Perhaps because they echoed my fears, his words struck me to the heart. I struggled to keep my face expressionless. I would have died before I let Roger know that he had wounded me.

  There had been a vicious sound in Roger’s voice, however, when he spoke Raoul’s name, and I concentrated on that. “Why do you hate Raoul so much?” I asked. “He has supported you for years, Roger. I should think you would be grateful to him.”

  With his silver hair and his blue eyes illuminated by the wall sconces, he looked like an angel, but the expression on his face was excessively unpleasant. “I’ve told you before. He has too much. Everyone respects and admires Raoul. I could have been just as important, just as highly respected, if I’d been the earl, if I’d been the one who had control of the Savile estate and money. Raoul owes it to me to pay my debts. He always has before, but now he’s getting sticky about it. He says I must pay my own way.”

  He slammed his hand down upon the desk. “Well, I’m going to surprise them all,” he said. “You’ll see,” He stood up, leaned forward across the desk, and gave me what I’m sure he thought was a persuasive smile. He dropped his voice to a coaxing note.

  “The lion’s away, Gail,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want to play?”

  “Very sure,” I said definitely, and turned swiftly and left the room.

  I went back to the bedroom with my copy of Sense and Sensibility and spent the rest of the night reading and thinking about Roger. More and more I was coming to believe that he was the one who was responsible for all of the terrible things that were happening, at Savile.

  He needed money and having Nicky out of his way would make money available to him immediately if he inherited. There was, of course, the question of Harriet’s child, but I was also beginning to wonder how safe Harriet’s child would be if it was a boy. If Roger was willing to kill an eight-year-old like Nicky, why should he hesitate to commit infanticide?

  I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, and in the morning the sight of my wan face and the shadows under my eyes was distinctly unappetizing. My ugly brown morning dress was loose on me as well, testifying to my lack of appetite during the last few days.

  Mrs. Macintosh would have had a fit if she had seen me, I thought, in an attempt at humor. And Mr. Macintosh would have gone on a mission to fatten me up, I felt a pang of homesickness for the dear old couple whose love for Nicky and me was unequivocal.

  The day was sunny and warm, but still Raoul did not return. The children played within sight of the house under the vigilant eyes of the Bow Street runners as well as Ginny and me, and in the evening I retired to my lonely bed and finished reading Sense and Sensibility before I managed to fall into a restless sleep.

  * * * *

  At luncheon the following afternoon John told me that he thought he might have located an establishment for my horse business. It was in southern Hertfordshire, he said, not very far from London.

  “My correspondent writes that there is a house, a carriage house, a stable with eight stalls, and a fenced paddock with good footing you can use for a riding ring,” he said.

  A month ago I would have been delighted by the news. Now, I felt my heart sink.

  “It sounds perfect,” I made myself say. “How long a lease do they want and what is the rent?”

  “The lease would be for a year and the rent is a thousand pounds,” John said.

  “That is too high,” I replied immediately.

  “Yes; well, my friend thinks I can get them down. Evidently the family has inherited a larger house and are anxious to let this one quickly. I think I can get them to come down a few hundred pounds on the lease.”

  “Hertfordshire,” Ginny said. “Is it anywhere near the Cecils’?”

  “It is not in the immediate neighborhood, no,” John said.

  “Well, since I am hardly going to be on visiting terms with the Earl of Salisbury, that scarcely matters, Ginny,” I said a little tartly. I didn’t need any more reminders of how far my station in life was removed from Raoul’s. I turned back to John. “I gather you haven’t seen it yourself?”

  “Not yet. I thought I would ride up there tomorrow and make certain that everything is in good repair. I understand that it is, but I want to make certain for myself before I begin to negotiate for terms.”

  I smiled at him across the luncheon table. “I cannot thank you enough. I know how busy you are here at Savile, and it is so very kind of you to take the time to do this for me. And you have been so swift!”

  His light brown eyes smiled back at me. “It is my pleasure to assist you, Gail. I know how eager you are to resume your own life, so I have tried to be as expedient as possible.”

  I wasn’t at all eager to resume my own life, unfortunately. I could hardly say this to John, however, so I smiled and thanked him again and pushed away my uneaten slice of roast beef.

  “You are getting too thin,” Ginny said to me. “I noticed this morning how your dresses are beginning to hang on you.”

  “I just don’t have any appetite,” I said. “I am too worried about Nicky, I suppose.”

  Ginny raised an eyebrow but did not answer. Then she turned t
o ask John again, “I suppose you have not heard from Raoul?”

  “No, I have not,” John replied with sorely tried courtesy.

  Suddenly I felt that if I remained in the dining room for one more moment I was going to scream. I needed desperately to get away from the house and all the people in it, so I excused myself and decided that I would take Narsalla for a ride by myself around the lake.

  When I arrived at the stables dressed in my riding habit, it was to find that the head groom was not keen to let me go out by myself. This annoyed me seriously, so I finally lied and told him that Raoul had said I could take out the little gray Arabian mare whenever I wished. Grove begged to be allowed to accompany me but I refused him curtly, and they reluctantly saddled Narsalla and I was on my way.

  I crossed the causeway and turned left, taking the lake path along the deer park and through the Home Woods. I followed the road after that for about five miles more, traveling along the river and through the cornfields, past the Jenkinses’ farm, where Raoul had been so kind to the injured tenant farmer, then farther and farther into the country.

  Everywhere I looked, the land stretching out around me belonged to Raoul. Taking into consideration his stud farm, his hunting box, and his other lesser estates, I now knew that he owned over eight thousand acres. He had hundreds and hundreds of people depending upon him for their welfare: his tenants, his servants, his family—and he failed none of them. For years he had paid Roger’s debts and done what he could to redress George’s follies. His sister, his sister’s children, John, Roger, Harriet, Mr. Cole, me, all of us alike were recipients of his bounty. Even a frightened black horse, whom anyone else would have sent to the knackers, was given a home at Savile and made useful and happy.

  How could one not love such a man? I thought. How could his wife have allowed her desire for the gaiety of London to blind her to the gold in her husband’s character?

  It was not that he had no flaws. He was too high-handed, certainly, too accustomed to getting his own way. But he was not truly arrogant. Raoul was inherently far too just to be called arrogant.