In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL)

by Maggie Robinson

  There were so many of them, both shredded plants and sleepy servants. Grace had spared no expense making Rosemont comfortable in its largesse of personnel.

  Louisa could replace the plants. She had plenty of money, even if some was being siphoned off her accounts. What she did not have at the moment was patience.

  Charles—she must remember to call him Max in front of all these people—was being troublesome. She did not know what had gotten into him after this most recent injury, but she wanted it gotten out.

  She hadn’t decided to marry him on some whim. Louisa knew, or thought she knew, everything about him. He was not an easy man. Would never be. Things had happened to him that were too significant to be smoothed over with a few kisses. In that respect they had something in common, although she would never claim to be as fragile as he was.

  Men didn’t like to be fragile. Vulnerable. For some reason, they thought they had to march through life giving orders, smashing things and then putting the pieces back together inexpertly. Always be in control. Be strong, and too silent when they were not huffing and puffing.

  Louisa had given up on men years ago, but she had made a reluctant exception for Charles and was not about to let him go.

  So what if his vision didn’t ever get back to normal? He didn’t need to see her to touch her—so far, he’d done rather magnificently in the dark and the daylight. And he didn’t need to seek employment—she had enough money to support him and his entire family.

  But Charles, damn him, was probably not seeing things her way at the moment. Actually, he was committed to not seeing anything at all. His performance so far was alarming the clot of servants who were standing in the library, awed by the spectacle as if they were watching a Shakespearean tragedy. His hands flailed out before him, and Louisa was suspicious that he’d chosen to poke poor old Mrs. Lang.

  Her keys had rattled as she leaped back away from him.

  Of course. All the servants were locked into their respective dormitories at night. Louisa had sometimes worried over that—what if there was a fire or an emergency? But Grace had been implacable. No one was to wander Rosemont after hours. There would be no male-female hanky-panky in her house.

  Louisa believed Grace just liked the power of locking people up.

  Louisa gave her little speech and introduced Mrs. Evensong to those who had not made her acquaintance. She apologized for dragging them all out of bed and explained Mrs. Evensong would want a few minutes with each of them.

  “Griffith, I trust all the footmen and other male servants were secure in their wing?” Louisa asked. Mrs. Evensong lifted one of her reddish brows, then smiled. Louisa basked briefly in her approval.

  “Of course, Miss Louisa. And I saw to all the outside doors myself and checked them again before I came here. No one has breached the locks.”

  Well, Kathleen had come in from the garage, but Louisa wouldn’t want Griffith distressed. Kathleen was a clever girl and probably had a bunch of keys herself, which meant that other people might be equally resourceful.

  She looked at the white, sleep-rumpled faces. No one looked particularly sly or secretive, and as far as she knew, none of them had a quarrel with her.

  Destroying her plants was very personal. Spiteful. Grace could have put someone up to it, but somehow Louisa didn’t believe that.

  What had Charles said last night when he forgot to be mean? If Hugh and Grace had hired an assassin, they were not getting their money’s worth. She nearly smiled.

  Louisa turned to Mrs. Evensong. She was sitting on a tufted couch, her gray hair still up in its elaborate style as if she’d never been to bed. Goodness, she was not the guilty one, was she? Louisa almost smiled again.

  “So you will vouch for all the men,” Mrs. Evensong said to Griffith.

  “Aye, Mrs. Evensong. With my life. I may be getting older, but I know my duty. I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Miss Louisa. I babied those plants the year you were gone.”

  The butler looked devastated, more upset than she herself was. “And will you do the same for the women?” Louisa asked, turning to Mrs. Lang.

  “Of course. Except for your maid. I found her in the kitchen. She says you sent her down for sandwiches for your husband.”

  It was clear from the tone of her voice that Mrs. Lang had decided on the culprit. It was a good thing Robertson wasn’t here to defend his love, but over the garage, probably wondering where his sandwiches were.

  “As I did. You all can ascertain that Cap—uh, Mr. Norwich has been grievously injured again. He cannot see a thing after this latest attack. It was the least I could do to give the man a sandwich, something he could hold easily.” Louisa clasped his hand. Even if he’d wanted to withdraw it, he was conscious of the role he was to play and let her touch him.

  He frowned. “Who is this?”

  “It is I, my darling. And you’re not to worry. I’ll take care of you. I know my duty, too. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part.”

  There were audible sighs throughout the room at Louisa’s romantic gesture. She hoped Mrs. Evensong was studying the servants’ expressions. Who was touched? Who looked disgusted?

  Charles squeezed her hand so hard it hurt and bent down in a lover-like position. “You’re overdoing it,” Charles whispered into her ear, causing the hairs to lift off the back of her neck.

  He was so close, and yet so far away.

  “You should talk. Was it necessary to break that vase in the hall?”

  “You wanted a show. I’m giving it. And the vase was damned ugly.”

  She stroked his cheek with her free hand and he stiffened. “Are you watching for signs of guilt or triumph? No one will suspect if you stare at them.”

  “I have my suspicions.”

  “Who?” asked Louisa eagerly.

  “Not now.” Charles’s face shuttered. Before she touched him, Louisa thought he was quite enjoying himself.

  She asked the servants to leave and wait in the hallway for their turn. There was nervous shuffling. Some of them looked stricken, others belligerent; some were simply too exhausted to care what their beleaguered employers were up to. Louisa would have a chance to examine the entire gamut of emotions as the night progressed.

  Charles sat silent and glum by her side as, one by one, a parade of individuals came in as organized by Griffith. Few had access to the gun room, unless they, like Kathleen, had secreted away keys, but the conservatory was open to all. Mrs. Evensong’s questions were few but pointed. To a man and woman, they all swore they had nothing to do with any of the incidents targeting the Norwiches.

  With every oath of innocence, Louisa grew more frustrated. What had she expected? How lovely it would have been if someone had fallen on the Turkey carpet prostrate with remorse and confessed. She had been naïve to think her plan would work, and now she was just plain numb.

  Mrs. Evensong had left them alone some time ago, moving smartly for a woman her age in the middle of the night. Louisa didn’t stir from the sofa. It was a comfort to have Charles against her. He had fallen asleep four fruitless interviews ago.

  In his blissful ignorance, he had sagged against her and his head was resting on her shoulder. Louisa knew soldiers were trained to fall asleep anywhere when they could snatch a few moments, so she didn’t flatter herself that he meant anything by it. It was not a secret message to her that he really cared. He was still as determined to leave, just as she was determined to forbid it.

  Well, one couldn’t forbid Charles to do anything. But how to persuade him that they had a future together?

  The man couldn’t be bribed, and she wouldn’t want him if he could be. She was not above using sex to seduce him, but that seemed underhanded, and a little desperate. It was not as if she knew what she was doing anyway.

  Louisa was forced to conclude t
hat she had to tell him the truth—that she’d fallen in love with him and simply couldn’t do without him. She’d told him before, but he needed to hear it again. They could face their demons together.

  He wasn’t the only one with bad dreams.

  The clock chimed three. “Charles,” she said, her voice soft. She wasn’t worried anyone would hear his true name—the staff had all slouched off to bed some time ago with reassurances they could begin their day late. Louisa would deal with Aunt Grace.

  Before heading to bed herself, Mrs. Evensong and Louisa had compared notes in hushed tones while Charles breathed heavily in his sudden slumber. She and Louisa agreed on a person who stood out from the others.

  Motive. Opportunity. Words that before these incidents had belonged solely to the crime pages or penny dreadfuls. Louisa was cautiously optimistic. But if none of the servants were guilty, that left one of the family or Miss Spruce.

  Insupportable.

  “Charles, wake up.” She couldn’t leave him on the sofa all night.

  She wanted him in her bed. She had begun her night sleeping on the chaise but was unwilling to return there.

  His eyelids fluttered, and then he sprang away from her as if he’d touched a hot stove.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Stratton. My falling asleep was unforgivable.”

  Miss Stratton? Oh, Charles. As if that will keep me away.

  “You’ve had a rather difficult day. What did you think?”

  He stood, looking deliciously rumpled. “About what?”

  “The interviews, silly. Mrs. Evensong and I are nearly certain that the culprit is—”

  “Kathleen, of course.”

  Louisa leaped up. “Kathleen! Don’t be absurd! Of course it isn’t Kathleen!”

  “We can’t argue here,” Charles said, the annoying voice of reason. “Anyone could hear us.”

  “And I certainly plan to argue! Where could you have gotten such a ridiculous idea?”

  Charles put a finger to his stubbled chin. “Hm. Let’s see. A hit on the head. Burrs. Mushrooms. Fleas. I admit using a firearm is a novelty for her, but maybe she had Robertson do it for her. She leads him around by the nose as you used to do me. She was the only one about when Mrs. Lang locked everything up. It’s obvious.”

  He sprinted up the staircase, this time not lurching into walls. Louisa had difficulty keeping up with him.

  “It is not obvious!” she hissed. “Honestly, that blow to your head has affected you in more ways than one.”

  “Why? Because I can see clearly? In a manner of speaking, that is.”

  “If you had three eyes you couldn’t be more wrong! Kathleen and Robertson apologized!” Out of breath and angry, Louisa slammed and locked their bedroom door.

  “Words are cheap,” Charles said, pushing a dresser against it.

  “Well, you’d know all about that! Offering marriage and then reneging. T-telling me you l-love me!” Louisa flung off her robe and kicked one slipper into the corner.

  “You’re better off without me,” Charles growled.

  “Says who?”

  “I do, you ninny! I don’t know how I ever thought we could get along long enough to make it through the wedding vows.”

  “We get along fine!” Louisa shouted. “Better than fine! What has come over you?”

  He stalked across the room and grabbed her by the elbows. “Good judgment at last, my dear. I can’t marry you. I can’t protect you, but then that won’t be necessary. You and Mrs. Evensong will solve this little mystery; you’ll run Rosemont and find some poor sap who will knuckle under your thumb and listen to your constant babbling.”

  Louisa looked up into his lovely, weary face. “Stop it, Charles. Just stop it. Nothing you can say will make me love you any less. Please tell me what this is about.”

  Chapter

  38

  He sat down on the bed. Would this night ever end?

  “What is there to say? I’ve already told you.”

  Louisa sat down beside him. “No, you haven’t.”

  If he spoke his nightmare vision aloud, surely that would cure her of her girlish hopes. But his tongue thickened. Words might be cheap, but they had power. He didn’t want to unleash his hell-born images. She would look at him with pity.

  Fear.

  He shook his aching head. “I can’t.”

  “Charles, I spent years having no one to talk to. Then Kathleen came, and things got a little easier. It helps to have someone to share your worries with.”

  “Ah, now you’re an alienist.”

  “Don’t mock me. I love you, and nothing you can ever say will drive me away. Unless you don’t love me back.”

  How simple it would be to tell her that. But it would be the vilest lie.

  He took her hand. “You know of my dreams.”

  She nodded.

  “Sometimes they seem more real than reality, if that makes any sense. I never know when they’ll occur. They are—they are horrible. I’m afraid I’ll harm you, Louisa.”

  She blinked. “That’s all?”

  “Isn’t that enough? But no, that’s not all. We come from two different worlds. You’d lower yourself by marrying me.” He wasn’t fit to fetch that slipper from the corner.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re such a snob, Charles.”

  He was stung. “I am not!”

  “Don’t talk to me of class barriers. This is not India, and you aren’t an untouchable. The twentieth century is ahead of us. Things are going to change.”

  She spoke with such certainty. Which one of them was more delusional?

  “Louisa, don’t you see? It doesn’t matter if I love you. We cannot be together.”

  Her fingernails dug into his skin. “Love is the only thing that matters, Charles. The rest is . . . dust. Inconsequential. I know you suffer—you’ve seen things I don’t even want to imagine. And you don’t have to talk about them unless you want to. We can sit silently beside each other for the rest of our lives, as long as we are beside each other.”

  “What if I murder you in my sleep? You might regret that ‘beside’ part.”

  She had the audacity to laugh. “I suppose we can have separate bedrooms if you insist. As long as you visit me occasionally.”

  “Louisa, this isn’t funny. I can be—I am—violent.”

  “I know.”

  She was absolutely exasperating. “If I told you I was Satan himself—”

  “I’d have to sin some more to ensure we could spend eternity together. Charles, I love you. What happened in the past only served to bring us together. I am not the same careless girl and you are not the hopeless fellow you once were, but if we hadn’t been those people, would we love each other?”

  “I didn’t say I still loved you,” Charles said, stubborn.

  “I know. But I know.”

  There she was again. “I cannot get rid of you, can I? Not even for your own good.”

  “I’ll be the judge of what’s good for me, and you, Charles Cooper, are good.”

  “Oh, Louisa.” The tiniest flame kindled in his heart. Was it possible to be happy?

  He didn’t know anymore. This afternoon when he learned about George’s offer, he had been optimistic that he and Louisa could start a new life in that shiny twentieth century she was so sure of. He knew nothing about New York or cars or business, but he could learn.

  But could she leave Rosemont and its towers and gargoyles and roses?

  “If you could go anywhere, start anew, where would you go?” he asked her.

  “Well, I thought before all this—before you—that I’d like to go to New York next.”

  This was welcome news. “Really?” he said, trying to keep his burgeoning excitement at bay.

  “My mother was from New York, you know.”

/>   “Yes, you’ve spoken of that.”

  “But I don’t want to keep living out of a steamer trunk for the rest of my life, wandering about the world, so you won’t have to worry I’ll drag you to strange places when we marry.”

  “When we marry,” Charles repeated. She seemed so sure. Was it really so easy?

  “I’d like to settle down. Make my own home to my own specifications. And Kathleen is really not that fond of travel. Now that she’s to marry Robertson, I don’t expect she’ll want to go anywhere. You know you are completely wrong about her, by the way.”

  Maybe he was. His head was spinning. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “What’s this about, where I want to live? Can it be I’ve convinced you to change your mind and marry me?” she asked, grinning.

  He squeezed her hand, feeling his resistance to her ebb like the tide outside. “You are very convincing, Louisa. But I’ll explain later. When we get to the bottom of everything. And then, if you want to leave Rosemont, I think I know just the place.”

  Charles wouldn’t tell her yet. He hadn’t quite made up his mind. One couldn’t head up an automobile division without firsthand knowledge of the machines.

  He could ask Louisa to teach him to drive. Talk about the blind leading the blind.

  Charles would have his old life back. No, his old life really wasn’t worth much. A new life. He was done drinking to blind himself to his blindness and deaden his memories of the dead. He’d be with the woman he loved, have a second chance to make things right.

  He would talk to George about the journals. His old friend might not be keen to have one of his employees expose the unheroic underbelly of British army life. But war would come again, and if Charles’s words could change one small thing for the better, it would be worth the notoriety.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s my secret for now. And no matter how many kisses you give me to worm it out of me, I’ll never tell.”

  “You want to kiss me.” Louisa looked a little surprised.

  “I thought you knew everything,” Charles teased.