The Worthington Wife

by Sharon Page

  “I understand,” she whispered. “I do want to go with you when you show the police sergeant the—the place.” Scotland Yard was to be called in, too.

  “No. I don’t want you to see any more of that. I’m taking you home, then showing the police the graves.”

  “Cal, are you really going to destroy Worthington now—because of what the dowager threatened? It was wrong. Unconscionable. But—”

  “I don’t know. I—Hell, I want you to come away with me and I want to forget about Worthington Park.”

  His heart was raw and she understood. But she had to fight for Worthington. Not for the estate—for Cal. He needed to finally escape the pain of his past.

  At Worthington, Cal left her there, then returned to the police station. She went to the morning room. She didn’t tell the servants any of what had happened. She began a letter beseeching the dowager countess not to reveal a word about Cal’s mother.

  “My lady?” A maid bobbed a curtsy, holding out a folded page. “This note was delivered for you. A young lad brought it to the kitchen door. Said it was dreadful important.”

  Julia hurried to the maid, took the note.

  The writing was shaky, terribly so. Julia struggled to read it. But when she did, an icy, sick feeling washed over her. It was from Lower Dale Farm. Their father was ill.

  “I must go and fetch Dr. Campbell. Is the boy still here?”

  “He ran off, milady.”

  And Cal was gone—with the police. She must deal with this herself. She needed her vehicle. She would drive directly to the hospital to fetch Dr. Campbell. She would test the brakes. The garage was always locked now, and the chauffeur took great care, checking the vehicles each day. Surely she would be safe enough if she traveled directly to the hospital to get Dougal.

  At the front door, she put on her coat. But as she stepped outside to go to the garage, the Duke of Bradstock drove up. He leaned out the open window. “Julia, I was coming to see you. I want to apologize for upsetting you.” His car purred as he shifted it into Neutral.

  Then she had the perfect idea. “Would you be willing to do me a favor, James?”

  “Anything, dear Julia. Ask me anything.”

  Should she involve him? She must. “I need you to take me to the hospital and collect Dr. Campbell, then take us to Lower Dale Farm. We must make haste.”

  * * *

  Belowstairs, Tansy ran into the kitchen and burst into tears. Hannah almost knocked her bowl to the floor in her surprise. “Tansy, you must stop being so dramatic.”

  “You were right all along,” the girl cried. “Oh, I’ve been so stupid.”

  “Tansy, what on earth—” Then Hannah knew and she touched Tansy’s shoulder. “He had his way with you, didn’t he? I know you saw him last night. You gave in and he broke it off with you.”

  Tansy shook her head. “I didn’t see him last night. I snuck out to meet him but he never came. I wouldn’t let him have his way—and I was afraid that’s why he didn’t come. And now I just saw him! With her! She’s so hoity-toity, and there’s her husband so much in love with her, but I saw her get into his motorcar just now. I saw the look in his eyes as he drove off. He’s in love with her. He looked right at me, because I was standing there, and it was as if he didn’t even see me.”

  Hannah was all mixed-up. “Who do you mean? Who is ‘she’?”

  “He came, and Lady Worthington got into his car. And the way he looked at her—well, he never looked at me that way. Never.”

  “He’s probably a friend of Lady Worthington.”

  Tansy moaned. “She’s his lover, more like. And I found out he didn’t give me his real name. She called him James.”

  23

  Disappearance in a Motorcar

  James’s motorcar rumbled along the road toward the village. Julia shivered in the seat beside him. Cold air had swept in and fog was settling on the countryside. They drove through it in valleys and it swirled alongside the road like ghostly apparitions.

  This wasn’t the main road, but it was a lane Julia knew well. A shortcut to Brideswell village. It would come out very close to the hospital.

  There were few motorcars in the village—no one passed them. James was driving quite quickly, as she’d asked, turning the wheel with skill to avoid holes in the road.

  He slowed a bit, then pushed down on the pedal and the car went perilously fast. With a rapid movement, he turned the steering wheel. The car seemed to skid onto two wheels and she shut her eyes out of instinct.

  When she opened them, they were on a different lane—a rougher one that was just two tracks cutting through a field. “Shouldn’t we be going the other way to the village?”

  He kept his focus on staying on the tracks. “Shortcut.”

  Men. And they complained about women behind the steering wheel. Julia’s heart thudded. She didn’t want to waste precious time. “The other road is a shortcut. I think it would be fast enough. This looks like the kind of track you can get stuck on.” It couldn’t be much used. She, who knew the estate well, did not know where it led.

  “Be quiet. Leave the driving to me.”

  “Women are no longer seen and not heard, James. This track seems to be going away from the village. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “It’s a perfect idea.” Then he added, “I learned your husband is taking you on a long trip. A tour through the Mediterranean, then on to Egypt, where you will explore the archeological digs and travel up the Nile. It appears I wouldn’t be seeing you for a very long time.”

  “What? We didn’t decide on a trip.” She had said she did not want to run away from Worthington Park. “How did you know about it?”

  “Your husband told your butler and a footman overheard.”

  She peered ahead. Fog swirled and it looked milky white in front of them, the headlights picking out trees that seemed to fly at them out of nowhere. What he’d said didn’t quite make sense. “But how did you know?”

  “I paid the footman to give me information.”

  “You paid a footman to spy? Why?”

  “I wanted to know what your husband was doing to you.”

  She was stunned. How could James have thought such a thing was right? He was truly far too arrogant. “We should have been at the hospital by now.” He must have gone the wrong way after all.

  “Don’t fret, Julia.”

  “James, Mr. Toft is ill. It could be very serious.”

  She gasped as the stream of light from the lamps on the car picked out looming trees in the mist. James slowed the car, picking his way along the track. He must know where it was; Julia could see nothing that looked like a road.

  They passed through a wooded area. James stopped the car. Here, it was utterly gray, but for the two pinpoints of the headlights, which illuminated nothing but bracken and tall grass. She stared at him, shocked and confused. “What are you doing?”

  “We’ve run out of road.”

  His wretched shortcut had turned out to be useless. She’d told him not to do this. And they’d wasted so much precious time. Panic rose and she struggled to fight it. “You have to turn around. We must go back—”

  “Calm yourself, Julia. The bugger at Lower Dale Farm is not in any danger.”

  She flinched at his harsh description. “You don’t know that—”

  “But I do. I know it because I wrote the note and paid some village boy to deliver it.”

  “Why would you do that? Was this intended as a joke?”

  “I needed to get you into my car, Julia. You should have seen your face when I drove up. You looked as if your knight errant had arrived.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve waited a long time for this. I didn’t want to have to hurt you. I thought you might
come to me willingly, become my mistress, once you found out the truth about that American thug you married. But then I learned I was running out of time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He is going to take you away. He would not bring you back here. I’d waited too long already. I paid a man to cut the brakes of his damn car, but that failed to kill him. I am not going to let him take you from me forever.”

  Shock had made her wits freeze, made it hard to think. James wanted her. Learning Cal wanted to take her away had made him determined to act.

  Three women with dark hair and blue eyes. But that had been John Carstairs. What was Bradstock going to do—try to seduce her? “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to be intimate with you. I’ve wanted it for so long. When I was going to propose marriage to your father—”

  “Propose marriage to Father?”

  “I had a proposition for him,” he said impatiently. “It was common knowledge he’d frittered through his fortune. His debts couldn’t be covered, and the income was dissolving because of his poor management. I was going to cover his debts, if he gave me you.”

  “This is not the eighteenth century. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to be sold, no matter what Father said,” she declared.

  “Then your engagement with bloody Anthony Carstairs was announced,” he said, ignoring her. “I’d waited too long. I was going to get your father to demand you break the engagement. He would have done anything to get his hands on money to cover his debts. I could have ruined him.”

  She sucked in a cold, sharp breath. Bradstock was mad.

  “Before I could do that, Anthony volunteered for battle. All I had to do was wait. Reports were coming back—thousands of men were being blown to bits. Anthony was so stupidly brave I was sure he’d get killed.”

  “He was truly brave. How dare you mock him?” But even as she threw those words at him, she looked around. She could get out of the car and run. She was going to have to do that. She hadn’t paid a lot of attention to where they had turned exactly, because she’d been so fearful for the Tofts of Lower Dale Farm. The fog made it confusing, but she thought she recognized where she was. On the other side of the hill from where Cal had found the bodies.

  He had wanted her—and three dark-haired women had died. “Did you—Were you the man in the motorcar with Sarah Brand? What of John Carstairs? Did he—he kill Sarah or did you?”

  The moment she asked the question, she knew she could not turn back.

  He smiled. “I did. I met him and we both had our way with her. She looked so much like you. John loved you so much, Julia. I found out about how much John loved you, Julia, when I came to visit Anthony and Nigel. I came to see you, even knowing I couldn’t have you. Once I learned about John’s lust for you, I knew he was going to be the perfect scapegoat. I tempted him with photographs I got of Gladys, the maid.”

  Julia felt frozen. Of course. J.C. Not John Carstairs. But James. And he was heir to the dukedom then, known by his courtesy title, the Earl of Cavendish. “The photograph was signed to ‘A.’ I told the daft girl my name was Anthony.” His smile widened. “John enjoyed our game, having women who looked like you, the woman who loved his precious brother. I knew I could lay the blame at his door if things went wrong. Then the War came. I managed to avoid conscription—my father ensured that. I returned from university, and wanted to play the game again, with Anthony gone. But John had an attack of conscience and killed himself, the bloody fool. That’s why I had to stop for so long. But seeing you made it so painful that I needed another girl...”

  While he was talking happily, she grasped the door handle to the car. With a swift motion, she shoved open the door and she jumped out of the car as fast as she could. She skidded on the ground—the misty rain made it slippery.

  Something grabbed the sleeve of her coat and she screamed. Using all her might, she pulled free and she began running down the track back the way they had come. Behind her, she heard Bradstock curse. “Bollocks. Don’t be a damn fool. There’s nowhere to run.”

  But she kept going. She plunged off the track, into tall damp grass. She could see nothing, and that must mean he couldn’t see her. But he could hear her crunching through the grass, couldn’t he? Julia dropped to her knees. She was going to move quietly, and low, below the height of the grass.

  A car door slammed, echoing eerily in the vast silence.

  He was coming after her.

  “Stupid cow,” he said, his words partly muffled by the mist. But now that she wasn’t running, she could hear him much better. “We can be together now,” he growled. “I won’t let that American scum have you. I won’t let him take you from me. I found out all about him. Told Lady Worthington what he was—everything I’d found out.”

  Julia bit her lip so she wouldn’t shout at this evil, awful man. She was too scared to move, in case she made a sound.

  “I’m going to keep you,” he said, his voice filled with triumph. “Only I will know where you are. It will be my secret forever.”

  * * *

  The police constable worked at uncovering Sarah’s body, with the sergeant watching the procedure. The young constable had gone behind bushes to throw up once. Cal had helped him for a while. Then something had caught his eye. He bent down. Crisp footprints had dried into formerly wet mud. They had to be fresh—these couldn’t have lasted years. He hadn’t walked over here. Neither had Julia.

  Someone had been here recently. Obviously not John Carstairs.

  Julia had been attacked and not by Ellen’s pimp, Lowry. Julia, with blue-black hair and stunning blue eyes...

  He had to see her. Had to know she was safe. He would get her trunks packed today—they could be gone tomorrow, leaving Worthington Park behind. David could stay if he wanted, as long as he wanted. They could take Diana with them, head to Paris, send her on her way safely to Switzerland with the chaperone.

  He told the policemen he needed to check on his new bride, needed to see her. He drove fast to get back to Julia. The wind whipped back his hair. Grit flew against his driving goggles. Despite the conditions of the road, he drove like a bat out of hell. His car springs screeched with each bang and jolt. His headlamps tried—and failed—to cut through a veil of swirling mist. He crunched a headlamp against a stone wall that appeared out of nowhere.

  Still, he didn’t ease up. Who could have been there? A farmer? One of the gypsies? But Cal doubted it—it was off a narrow track, behind a grove of trees.

  He hit the brakes as he roared into the drive, skidding to a stop right in front of Worthington. Within minutes, he learned Julia was gone. She had received a note that Toft was ill. But the chauffeur told him Julia hadn’t taken a car.

  * * *

  “His lordship’s going mad upstairs. He thinks Lady Worthington has gone missing.” Eustace had come into the kitchen to impart the latest and most exciting gossip.

  Hannah lifted her head from her rolling pin just as Tansy gave a little cry and dropped her bowl. It shattered with such a loud sound that Tansy shrieked. Batter flew everywhere.

  Hannah sighed. “Tansy, clean up that mess.” To Eustace she said, “Lady Worthington went out for a drive with a friend.”

  “Don’t tell him,” Tansy urged. “Don’t.”

  “Why not? She was driven away by a gentleman that she knew. She called him James. Go tell him that. I guess she didn’t leave a note or anything.”

  Eustace went up to relay the message.

  Moments later, Hannah and Tansy were shocked to hear heavy, fast footsteps pound down the stairs and the Earl of Worthington burst into the kitchen.

  “Eustace told me you saw my wife get into a car,” he said abruptly.

  “I didn’t—” Hannah saw Tansy make eyes at her and shake her head. Then she realized Tansy feared the earl would f
ind out she had been slipping out to meet this man. “One of the maids did and she told me.”

  The earl frowned. “Why didn’t this maid come forward upstairs when I asked if anyone had seen my wife?”

  Hannah had to think quickly—because of course, it hadn’t been an upstairs maid. “She was outside when she shouldn’t have been. She was scared she would get into trouble.”

  “Who was driving the car?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t know, either. But Lady Worthington called him James.”

  “What did he look like?”

  Hannah had no idea. She looked desperately at Tansy.

  “This is very serious.”

  “My lord, will you promise you won’t get the maid into trouble? You won’t dismiss her?”

  “If someone knows something, I need to hear it now,” he said angrily.

  Hannah shuddered. She was going to lose her place for Tansy. But the earl wasn’t only angry, he was frightened. She could tell. “Don’t get her in trouble. It was my job to discipline her, and I failed. She wanted me to keep her confidence. I’m going to break it, so I should pay.”

  He looked at her in surprise. Then said, “I won’t fire the girl. Who was it?”

  “Tansy, my lord.” Hannah pointed at the cowering, white-faced kitchen maid.

  The earl went over to her. “You’re not in trouble, Tansy. Just tell me what the man looked like. Where were they going?”

  Tansy looked down more demurely than Hannah had ever seen. “He said he’d take her to the farm. She wanted to fetch Dr. Campbell first. He has black hair and he’s a gentleman. I never knew his real name. But he drives a beautiful car. Dark red and all covered in shiny chrome. And she called him James.”

  Hannah swallowed hard. “This man—he’s been showing attentions to a girl when he shouldn’t have done.”

  Tansy made a strangled sound, but Hannah knew she had to go on. His lordship had looked concerned about this man, and Hannah knew he was a bad sort. “He lied to the girl about who he was. Made her false promises. I thought maybe her ladyship should know about this gentleman.”