03 - Dreams of Destiny

by May McGoldrick

  It was a lie. Lyon had arrived, but he was in as foul a mood as Walter had ever seen him. The earl wanted to see no one.

  “Then you will meet me tomorrow morning…at the cliff walk.”

  “I cannot. I have much to do to prepare for—”

  “You will come or I shall announce to everyone the news of our…our little secret. The entire family shall know about us.”

  “There is no us,” he said gruffly, trying to step around her.

  “How dare you deny me—your own sister? Even more, how can you deny this child—your child—that is growing inside of me?”

  Walter heard a gasp from the terrace above them. Looking up, he saw the dark form of Lady Cavers staring down at them. Without uttering another word, he turned and strode off into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Your recovery today is nothing short of miraculous, I should say,” Augusta said coldly.

  Gwyneth had found her aunt pacing in the gardens, and the older woman had immediately started for the path leading toward the deer park and the loch just above the river.

  “Of course, there is always the possibility that your inability to greet me yesterday—injured as you were and confined to your sickbed—was nothing more than pretense. I notice you no longer are wearing your sling.”

  “My shoulder is much better today,” Gwyneth said, defending herself half-heartedly. “But truly, I did fall off my horse, aunt.”

  Gwyneth looked over her shoulder, wondering if Violet had found Robert to send the message.

  “I was only following the doctor’s direction to stay in bed yesterday.”

  Though Augusta was an energetic woman, she was setting an unusually brisk pace. “Well, Sir Allan was quite disappointed not having an opportunity to speak to you last night. Injury or not, the least you could have done was to meet with your fiancée, especially after the long journey he endured in pursuit of you.”

  The long journey in the company of his lover, Gwyneth thought. She wondered if the affair between her aunt and Sir Allan had begun on the journey north…or before.

  She should not care about any of this now, she told herself. They could do as they wished—behave in any way they desired. Gwyneth had her own life to live.

  “I had the opportunity to speak to Sir Allan this morning,” Gwyneth said, anxious to put any ‘fiancée’ references behind them. “I am happy to tell you ll of the confusion has been settled. I shall not be marrying Sir Allan.”

  “Why not?” Augusta almost shrieked, stopping and facing her.

  Gwyneth had to stop herself from backing away under the withering glare on her aunt’s face. “I tried to explain to you last night. Although I have, in the past, held Sir Allan in the deepest regard, I am not in love with him.”

  Augusta snorted and started off again, with Gwyneth hurrying to keep up.

  “Moreover, I have another suitor whom I very much wish to marry, a man I am certain will meet everyone’s approval.”

  They entered the shadows of the deer park. It was here that Gwyneth had seen the three men this morning and she looked about her now. They were not far from the loch.

  “Sir Allan is the husband I have chosen for you.” A handkerchief appeared in Augusta’s hand as she dashed away the perspiration forming on her brow. “I do not care to hear a word about any other suitors. I have made up my mind and you will obey my wishes.”

  “But I cannot,” Gwyneth responded. “The suitor I spoke of is Captain Pennington. His family—”

  “His family will not be mentioned in my presence,” Augusta snapped. “No Douglas shall ever marry into that family again.”

  “You are being unreasonable, Aunt. The Pennington family has done nothing to deserve your anger. David in particular—”

  “Nothing?” she spat out. “You call killing my only daughter nothing?”

  “Lyon did not push her. And…frankly, Emma may have been in some ways responsible for her own death. ‘Twas all part of the life she was leading. There was madness in her, Aunt. You saw it yourself. She had some need to break every rule, to make life miserable for everyone around her. She would hurt anyone if it brought her a moment’s pleasure. And that includes being unfaithful to her marriage vows.”

  Lady Cavers stopped dead. “Emma was so good to you. She took you under her wing and looked after you. How could you tell such lies about her?”

  “Lies?” Gwyneth asked incredulously. “There are dozens of letters in Emma’s room that tell—with very little subtlety—of her affairs while she was married.”

  “Flirtatious letters mean nothing.”

  “I witnessed with my own eyes—in your townhouse—a sexual liaison with a man who was not her husband.”

  Gwyneth was unprepared as the older woman whirled and slapped her hard across the face. Her ear rang from blow, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

  “You ungrateful wretch. You shall never drag down Emma’s memory, I will make sure of that.”

  She balked as her aunt started to pull her down the path toward the loch. Letting go of her arm, Augusta took a handful of her hair and started dragging Gwyneth. She took the first couple of steps in a daze. Then she saw the loch. A closed carriage sat waiting beside it. Two men sat on horseback and a third steed was tied to the back of the carriage. The third man that Sir Allan had been speaking to near the stables was in the driver’s seat. The baronet himself was standing by the open door of the carriage.

  “No!” She planted her feet. Augusta yanked hard, hauling her down the path.

  “You shall go with them. You shall marry Sir Allan.”

  “I shan’t. You cannot force me. And if you try, I shall tell everyone what you did. The marriage shall be annulled. You shall be exposed. You cannot get away with this.”

  “You are assuming you shall have the opportunity to expose me, my dear niece,” she hissed. “I shall spread the word that you have eloped with your lover. The unfortunate accident after your wedding shall have enough witnesses that no one would dare question Sir Allan, especially not with me—broken-hearted at my error in not sanctioning the union—speaking on his behalf.”

  “People already know about you and Ardmore. Your own household is aware of your illicit relationship with him.”

  Gwyneth cried out in pain as Augusta again tugged viciously at her hair, propelling her down the path. The strength of the older woman was stunning.

  “David is coming to the house. He shall be waiting at Greenbrae Hall when you get back. He shall never believe that I eloped with Sir Allan.” She cried out again as Augusta—still holding a fistful of hair in her hand—shoved her between the shoulder blades. Gwyneth felt like the skin on her head was about to rip off.

  “I should have ended this sooner. Ardmore’s scheme was too complicated to work. All it took was that blackguard Pennington to ruin it. I was an idiot to wait.”

  Gwyneth swallowed her next retort, realizing it was too late. The two riders were coming toward them. Sir Allan and the driver were approaching, as well.

  It could not end like this. Gwyneth would not allow herself to go down without a fight.

  *****

  She had been capable of killing a man before. Violet wondered if she was capable of doing it again. Last time, she had used a knife. This time, she was armed with a weapon she had never used before.

  Clutching the loaded pistol she had borrowed from the caretaker’s quarters, she stared from the line of trees at Gwyneth’s struggle with Augusta as the group of ruffians drew near them.

  The caretaker, Robert, had been easy to convince, and the older man had gone off for Captain Pennington after the briefest of explanations from Violet. Once he was gone, though, getting any help from the rest of the servants proved futile. She had nothing to offer in the form of explanation—nothing to rouse them to action other than speculation.

  The men were almost upon them. Though Violet had often seen one of the succession of stewards at Melbury Hall fire a pistol for sport, she her
self had never fired one. She wasn’t even sure how to aim. Gwyneth needed a distraction, however, and she needed it now. Cocking the hammer of the pistol, Vi pointed the muzzle into the air, looked away, and pulled hard on the trigger.

  ****

  Robert had caught up with David and Truscott as they’d been returning to Baronsford. Gwyneth’s message was vague enough to terrify David. She never asked for help. She was not one to overreact to anything. For her to send someone after him meant the sword of Damocles was hanging over her neck. And Robert’s report only added to his worry.

  Their visitor, Sir Allan Ardmore, had asked the grooms to ready one of the carriages this morning—a strange request considering the man had arrived with Lady Cavers only the previous night. Moreover, the caretaker found it entirely too coincidental that the baronet knew three of the new stable hands—and had ordered that those three bring the carriage around to him when it was ready. It was all good that Gwyneth had sent for him. Now if he could only get there fast enough.

  The loud report coming from the deer park made the three men slow their horses and look at the direction of the lock.

  “That was gunfire,” David said. Truscott nodded.

  “Nae hunters are on the premises, sir, so far as I know,” the caregiver asserted, obviously unnerved by the gunshot.

  David could see the house at the end of the long drive straight ahead. He saw a handful of workers pausing in their work near the stables and glancing in the same direction. He made up his mind and turned his horse toward the woods.

  ****

  She knew she was no good to them dead. They would not shoot her in the back. Augusta’s troubles would only begin if Gwyneth were to die here before having a husband. The next one in line to inherit the Douglas fortune was a distant cousin—a gentleman serving in Parliament—and that would take everything from her aunt’s grasp.

  None of these thoughts comforted her, though, as she ran and clawed her way through the brush in her flight from the group. The gunshot had startled Augusta enough to loosen her hold momentarily. From that point onward, it was pure survival that was pushing Gwyneth.

  She saw Violet step out of the trees, the gun still in her hand.

  “Run! Run!” Gwyneth called to her friend. She had taken a path going through a bank of low-hanging branches. The men on horseback had no chance to follow her. But Violet was a clear target. From the corner of her eye, Gwyneth saw one of the riders go in her friend’s direction.

  “Run!” she yelled again. “Toward the house.”

  Violet finally seemed to understand, for she turned and ran.

  Running along a creek that fed the loch, Gwyneth soon found herself in a more thickly forested glen. She could hear the shouts and the sound of footsteps behind her. There were curses when she scrambled over a fallen tree and slid down a muddy slope. Whatever distance she thought each hurdle had bought for her, it all dissolved into thin air as her feet sank deep into the muck at the edge of a small pool at the bottom of the slope. As she struggled to free herself, two of the outlaws appeared on horseback at the far edge of the pool, reining in their mounts and drawing their knives. She looked up the slope and saw the other villain there, glaring down at her. A moment later, a breathless Sir Allan appeared at the top, as well, fury etched in his features.

  “Sir Allan, you should have rhen you had the chance,” she called up to him, as a third figure appeared behind him.

  The stout piece of wood in David’s hand was all he needed to dispatch the outlaw, and the warning shouts of the two men across the way were too late. The blackguard came tumbling down the hill into the muck beside Gwyneth. An instant later, Walter Truscott and Robert materialized from the woods behind the mounted outlaws, with Robert cudgeling one from his saddle as Walter dragged the other to the ground.

  Gwyneth’s worry, however, was focused on what was happening at the top, and she finally dragged her feet out of the mud, losing one shoe in the process. Scrambling back up the wet slope, she slipped and fell backwards twice before finding firm enough ground. Nearing the top, she heard the sound of Sir Allan shouting fiercely and the dull clang of steel on wood. Just as her face reached the level of the battle, a flash of metal flew by, missing her cheek by inches. Looking down, she saw the baronet’s sword disappear into the muddy pool of water.

  Crawling up onto solid ground, she could see Sir Allan on his knees, pleading for his life.

  David stood before him. In his hand he held the stick, and he looked ready to crush the baronet’s skull. She could see his upraised arm was bleeding from a slash in his forearm.

  “Out with it, you dog,” he growled, glancing over at her as she stood up. She could see the flash of relief in his face before it hardened again. “What were you and Lady Cavers planning.”

  “I was only a pawn in her scheme, Captain. Only a pawn who was to marry Miss Gwyneth.”

  “For her money.”

  “Indeed, I think Augusta…Lady Cavers…may have planned to do away with the girl, but I would have nothing to do with any of that. I swear.”

  “Why do I think you’d say anything, Ardmore?”

  “I swear.”

  “And you were in on the blackmail scheme,” David said accusingly.

  “’Twas Lady Cavers’s way of forcing Miss Gwyneth to act. She’d have never chosen me otherwise.”

  “To be sure, you cowardly dog.”

  “You are the blackmailer,” Gwyneth spat out, moving toward the two men. “You and my aunt.”

  “I’d have never allowed anything evil to befall you.”

  “Such as a carriage accident that you and these rogues would have staged to look real—an accident that would have claimed my life? Or were you planning to cut my throat and make it look like some highwaymen had attacked us?”

  “No, I’d never—”

  “Hold your tongue,” David snapped. He turned to Gwyneth when she reached his side. “Are you hurt?”

  “I am very well. But your arm in bleeding.”

  “Hardly anything. My coat took most of the damage.”

  “Wait.” She walked to the embankment and saw Robert binding the hands of the three prone outlaws while Walter stood over them. She turned back to David. “It appears we are all very well.”

  “Then we need to get back to the Hall,” he responded. “We have one more member of this gang to apprehend.”

  ****

  After directing Captain Pennington and the other two men to where Gwyneth had run, Violet turned in time to see Lady Cavers hurrying off toward the far side of the loch. With no idea of where the older woman was running, she knew it was critical to follow her. As there was no doubt now that Lady Cavers was behind all of this, Gwyneth would never be safe until her aunt was stopped.

  The path the older woman took into the woods wound upward from the loch. She never looked back, and Violet had to hurry to keep up and still follow unseen. For her part, though, the young woman glanced over her shoulder a number of times and, at one turn in the path, was relieved to see Captain Pennington and Gwyneth riding the same horse out to the edge of the loch.

  ****

  “There she is,” Gwyneth said, pointing to the path rising from the grassy area on the far side of the loch.

  David nodded, seeing the flash of material before it disappeared among the rugged terrain of pine, bracken, and rock.

  Walter Truscott and Robert had taken charge of conveying their prisoners to Greenbrae Hall, and a handful of stable workers who’d heard the shot soon appeared and were assisting the two men. When asked, they told David and Gwyneth that they had seen no sign of Lady Cavers heading at the direction of the house.

  “Why is she going that way?” Gwyneth asked, looking after her aunt. “That path leads to the cliff walk.”

  “I don’t know, but she is clearly not waiting to see if her people have succeeded or failed.”

  “Could she be going to Baronsford?”

  “I doubt it. She could be trying to get across
the river further along. Whatever she is planning, she is probably inventing a tale right now that will clear her of any wrongdoing, whether you have survived or not.”

  “This end of the cliff walk is too dangerous to follow her on horseback, but if we take the path by the tower house,” Gwyneth suggested, “we may be able to cut her off before she reaches Baronsford.”

  “You may be right.”

  She tightened her grip around David’s middle as he spurred the horse in that direction. In a moment they were racing along the wooded trail and it was not long before they crossed onto Baronsford land. Passing the tower house, they cut back toward the river.

  “Gwyneth,” he said over his shoulder. “Walter and I talked. Most of the mystery of Emma’s last days is now clear to me.”

  Gwyneth wished she could look at avid’s face. “I like Walter Truscott. Please do not tell me he killed Emma.”

  “Walter is like a brother to me. He was as much of a victim of Emma’s viciousness as Lyon was. I will explain it all to you later, but what I tell you must remain our secret. Nothing of what he told me must ever get back to Lyon or Pierce or anyone in the family.”

  Gwyneth understood. Too many people had suffered already.

  “Did he kill her?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “I’m glad…but that doesn’t help in finding who did kill her.”

  “Walter told me that your aunt was on the cliffs that day. She could have been the one who pushed Emma.”

  Through a break in the thick brush ahead of them, Gwyneth caught a glimpse of her aunt hurrying along the cliffs. David had obviously seen her, too.