The Queen's Gambit (The Wonderland Series: Book 4)

by Irina Shapiro

  “It wasn’t your fault, Brad. There’s nothing either of us could have done differently.”

  “I know, but the knowledge brings me no comfort.”

  “Nor me, but there’s no use laying blame. Some day we will be able to think of her as she had been, and remember the love we felt for her, but right now the grief is just too raw.”

  “You saved my life, Hugo. I would have died in that loft had you not come for me, and you lost your child because of it.” Brad looked miserable. “If only you’d known.”

  “Do you think I would have forsaken you?” Hugo asked. “You are my oldest and most trusted friend. I would have still come for you. Had I known that soldier died of the putrid throat, I wouldn’t have touched him with my bare hands, nor would I have exposed anyone to the disease, but I had no way of knowing, Brad. It was a tragic mishap. Now, tell me, how do you feel?”

  “Better. For the first few days, I could barely move my leg. The smell was awful, but the physician irrigated the wound every day, and put on a fresh poultice until the infection started to loosen its hold. Had it not, he would have taken the leg off to save me,” Brad added, still unable to believe that he was a whole man.

  “I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”

  “As am I,” Brad replied with a sigh of relief. “So, what now?” Brad asked. “What are your plans?”

  Hugo shook his head miserably. “I suppose I must go to London and petition the new king for a pardon, but I have no heart to do anything. I just want to lose myself in the running of the estate. I no longer have a taste for politics. But, sooner or later, de Chartres’s men will find me and demand that I make good on my promise, and for that, I need to lay the groundwork.”

  “Is there no way out for you?” Brad asked, his face creased with concern.

  “None that I can think of. Oh, and Liza came to see me today,” Hugo added conversationally, eager to change the subject.

  “Never. Not after what she’d done.” Brad’s face was slack with shock. “What did she want?”

  “She wanted me to acknowledge her son as mine. Claimed he was my firstborn,” Hugo replied dispassionately.

  “Her son?” Brad echoed. “I must give credit where credit is due; that woman has the bollocks of a man. I hope you didn’t make her any promises. Everyone knows that child was fathered by the captain who’d been sent to Cranley to arrest you.”

  “I know the child is not mine, but I’m afraid she’ll make trouble, Brad. Liza is not the innocent I believed her to be.”

  “No, I’d hardly call her that,” Brad agreed. “But what can she do?”

  Hugo shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m sure she’ll think of something.”

  Hugo accepted a cup of ale from the serving girl and helped himself to a pork roll which was still hot from the oven. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you about. I’d written to Gideon Warburton two years since, but heard nothing back. I wanted him to look into Finch’s estate and see if Frances might benefit from his death. He replied to the first letter, promising to do what he could, but subsequent correspondence went unanswered.”

  Brad suddenly looked uncomfortable, his eyes sliding away from Hugo’s in a way that suggested that Brad had something to hide. He reached for a roll, but held it in his hand without biting into it, his expression pensive.

  “What is it, Brad?”

  “Gideon is gone, Hugo,” Brad replied, suddenly replacing the roll on the plate as if it disgusted him.

  “Gone as in dead?” Hugo asked, a sick feeling of foreboding spreading through his chest. People died all the time from illness, but judging by Brad’s expression, this was something he didn’t care to share with Hugo. Brad just nodded, his face clouding with sorrow.

  “What happened to him?” Hugo asked as he sat forward in his chair, refreshments forgotten.

  “Nothing. Never you mind,” Brad responded brusquely. “What’s done is done.”

  “Tell me,” Hugo insisted quietly. Gideon’s death clearly had something to do with him, and he needed to know. Brad shrugged in resignation, his gaze fixated on the fire in the grate.

  “Gideon did not have an easy time of it after you left. There were many, especially at Court, who felt that he had committed an act of treason by defending a known traitor, and passions ran even higher when it became known that Jeffreys had been bribed by Gideon to commute the sentence from beheading to deportation. Gideon received threatening letters, and people often threw rotten vegetables and excrement at him when he left the house. Perhaps a stronger man might have weathered the storm, but Gideon was rather sensitive. He all but isolated himself from the world, which certainly didn’t help his prospects. Work dried up, since no one came to him for even the most basic of legal undertakings. He was in despair. It was at that time that he met a man named Julian Covington. I am not sure where they met, but it seemed that this man offered a sympathetic ear and the companionship that Gideon so desperately needed at that time. I found this newfound friendship to be a bit strange, since Gideon had always been something of a loner, but Beth and I were glad that he’d found someone to lean on in his hour of need.”

  “Go on,” Hugo prompted as Brad grew quiet.

  “I met Julian Covington once when I visited Gideon in town, and was astounded by how much the man resembled me. Even Beth remarked on it. It was uncanny. But Gideon seemed very taken with him. It was almost as if…,” Brad grew quiet again, his face reddening.

  “What are you getting at, Brad?” Hugo asked, wondering if he’d understood correctly.

  “I believe they were lovers, Hugo. And I think Gideon was supporting this man, possibly even paying him for his “companionship.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Gideon’s situation became dire since he could no longer earn a living and his finances were dwindling. He took the decision to sail to the colonies, a decision which I believe was prompted by Master Covington. Gideon thought that a fresh start in a place where his skills might be something of an advantage would be just the thing. Julian Covington was meant to go with him, but it seemed that he missed the boat or some such nonsense. I received a letter from the captain of the ship many months later, being Gideon’s closest male relative, informing me that Gideon drowned himself the day after leaving port. A letter from Julian Covington was found among his possessions, telling him that he would not be joining him in Virginia and that their association was over.”

  “He did away with himself?” Hugo asked, incredulous.

  “There’s more,” Brad added sourly. “It seems that Gideon had made a will in which he left all his worldly goods to Julian Covington. He didn’t have much in the way of coin, but he did have his house in London, and there were other valuables. Master Covington is now residing in Gideon’s house with another gentleman, who he claims is his kinsman.”

  “And you don’t believe that?”

  “Not for a moment.”

  Hugo felt a wave of despair assault his senses. There it was again, another casualty of his refusal to die. Gideon Warburton had lived a quiet and solitary life, making a comfortable living from his profession. Had Hugo died when he was supposed to, Gideon Warburton would still be alive. Neve thwarted history by taking Hugo to the twenty-first century, and so many lives had been altered, so many people affected. Now, he was indirectly responsible for the death of Gideon as well, a man innocent of any wrongdoing, whose life had been made a living hell thanks to his association with Hugo. The poor man had been vulnerable, and susceptible to someone who saw an opportunity to use that vulnerability to their own advantage.

  “I must go, Brad.” Hugo got to his feet and turned to leave. He just needed to be alone for a while.

  Chapter 33

  Liza brushed the crumbs off her skirt and wiped Johnny’s mouth. He’d had two slices of bread and butter and a cup of milk thoughtfully provided by the publican’s wife. Liza was hungry, but to pay for a meal seemed too extravagant. She would wait until she got hom
e. She finished off Johnny’s milk and the crust he hadn’t eaten and got up to leave. The day outside had warmed up a bit, a hazy winter sun shining glibly onto the sleepy village. She used to like it here, used to like working at Everly Manor. Soon she would have to look for work, work which would separate her from Johnny unless she took in washing, which didn’t pay much. Poor people didn’t pay someone to do their dirty work, and the rich had servants to do it.

  Liza retrieved her cart and settled Johnny in for the ride home. She couldn’t help looking up at Everly Manor sitting proudly on the ridge. She’d seen Hugo going into the stables after she left. He’d gone out, but his lady was probably at home. Liza turned the cart toward the manor house. She’d be damned if she didn’t try harder to get what she came for. Hugo might have been hard to sway, but perhaps she could still manipulate the situation to her advantage. And, if nothing came of it, she’d have the satisfaction of knowing that she’d sown seeds of doubt and pain in the woman who’d taken Hugo from her.

  Liza stopped the cart in front of the house and got out, hoisting the child onto her hip. She walked up to the door, brazen as you please, and used the heavy knocker to announce her presence.

  “I’d like to see Lady Everly,” she announced to Harriet, who gawped at her as if she’d just risen from the dead. They’d been friends once, and Liza was glad to see Harriet looking so well. But, she had no time to chit-chat.

  “Liza, are you mad?” Harriet asked, staring at the child. “If you’ve come for a job, this is not the way to go about it.”

  “I’m not here for a job, Harriet. Now tell Lady Everly that I am here.”

  “Wait here,” Harriet said and left her to wait in the foyer. Visitors were usually invited into the parlor, but Liza wasn’t good enough to be offered a seat. She had to stand and wait for a handout. Well, she’d see who had the upper hand in the end.

  Liza stiffened as she heard the sound of footsteps. Lady Everly was coming. She would have one chance, and one chance only to play her trump card.

  Chapter 34

  I’d never been a proponent of physical violence, but if I ever succumbed to the urge to beat someone to a pulp, it would be Liza Timmins. Seeing her standing in the foyer, cool as a cucumber, made my blood boil. Liza didn’t look too different from when she’d worked at Everly Manor. She was a bit grubbier, and her cheeks weren’t as plump as they had been, but she had the same lively brown eyes, and the dark ringlets that escaped from beneath the plain linen cap she wore framed her face becomingly. I strove for control as I looked at her smug expression, and fought an uncontrollable urge to slap it off her face. But, I wasn’t just plain Neve Ashley anymore; I was the lady of the house, and unfortunately, I had to behave appropriately — no brawling for me.

  I motioned Liza into the parlor, not because I wanted to give her the honor of being received, but because there were currently at least three pairs of ears straining to hear what was about to be said, one of them being Harriet. I liked the girl, but she did love to talk, and between her and her sister, the whole village would know my business by teatime. Liza walked in, her posture imperious, and took a seat without being invited. She set down her son, who stood next to his mother, timidly taking in the room. His eyes alighted on the carved horse left there by Michael, and I suppressed a churlish desire to snatch it up and hide it. The child picked up the toy and looked at it with wonder, likely never having seen a toy of any kind in his short life.

  “You wished to speak with me?” I asked. I didn’t sit, but continued to stand, letting Liza know that this would be a short interview indeed. Liza adjusted the shawl about her shoulders and folded her hands in her lap before answering, taking her time just to annoy me. And she was succeeding admirably. I was vibrating with impatience and dislike.

  “Yes, my lady,” she replied finally. The “my lady” was uttered with dripping sarcasm, which wouldn’t help her cause, whatever it was.

  “Go on then,” I prompted.

  “It would appear that I can no longer support my son, so I brought him here. I trust his father will acknowledge his responsibility and look after the child, while I seek employment which will enable me to care for my ailing mother and three sisters.”

  I allowed my eyes to slide to the boy, who was now sitting on the floor and tracing his finger over the pattern in the rug, the horse momentarily forgotten. He seemed amazed by the pretty colors, his face wreathed in a smile as he mouthed “flower,” completely in awe of such beauty.

  “Perhaps you should present your case to my husband, and not to me,” I replied, clasping my hands behind my back to avoid them strangling Liza of their own free will.

  “I have. He denied all knowledge of his own child. Few men are honorable enough to acknowledge their bastards before the world.”

  I could see the gleam of satisfaction in Liza’s eyes as she studied my reaction. I was livid, and she knew it, but that was part of the fun. She not only wanted to provide for her son, she wanted to humiliate me, and tarnish Hugo’s reputation. Allowing her to leave the child would be paramount to acknowledging Hugo’s paternity, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Liza had come for money, of that I was sure. She wanted us to buy her silence, and to keep buying it every time she ran out of funds. Well, this wouldn’t happen on my watch. If Hugo had denied paternity, then this boy wasn’t his. I knew my husband well enough to know that he would never shirk responsibility for his own child, even if that child were the son of a woman who’d betrayed him and wished him dead.

  This was blackmail pure and simple, and if I gave in to it once, it would never stop. I looked from the boy back to Liza. She was a clever girl, I’d give her that, and clever girls needed to be outwitted, not threatened. I’d have one chance to nip this in the bud, and my chance was now. I hated to be callous where an innocent child was concerned, but the child was too young to understand what was being said, and I had to gamble with his future in order to be rid of his scheming mother once and for all.

  “Of course,” I replied, nodding my head in affirmation, “Lord Everly should take responsibility for his flesh and blood. And, he is such a fine boy, your son, hale and strong.”

  Liza’s face lit up at she glanced down at the boy. He was rather sweet, I had to admit, with his dark eyes and wavy dark hair. I walked over to the child and patted him affectionately on the head. The boy was clean and well-fed, and I could tell from his demeanor and the way he kept smiling at his mother that he was also well loved. His cheeks were still rounded with babyhood, and I judged him to be under the age of three.

  “How old did you say he was?”

  “Just gone three,” Liza replied happily, eager to prove to me that he had been conceived once I was already in Hugo’s life. Well, I knew better.

  “I suppose you’d best say goodbye to him then,” I suggested. “You won’t be seeing him again.”

  “Why is that? You’d keep a mother from seeing her child?” Liza asked, fear suddenly showing in her eyes. She hadn’t expected that.

  “I would never keep a child from his mother, but as I am sure you understand, to keep the child here would be an embarrassment to me, as well as to his lordship. You didn’t really think he would be raised under the same roof as our own children, did you?” I asked innocently, driving the nails into the coffin one by one.

  “Well, I…,” Liza faltered. “He can stay with me if his father will look after him financially.”

  “Not a chance,” I replied calmly. “You just leave him here, and we will do right by him. As a matter of fact, I have family in the Netherlands. They are fine people, well respected, and deeply religious. Yes, I think we will send him there. It’s not a long sea voyage; I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Of course, they wouldn’t treat him as one of their own, but they will be happy to give him a place in the household and raise him to be their faithful servant.”

  I almost smiled when I saw Liza blanch. She had no way of knowing that I’d never been to the Netherlands, much less if I had any f
amily, but many Protestant families had been exiled to the Dutch Republic after the execution of Charles I, so it wouldn’t be odd for me to have relations who settled there permanently.

  “No,” Liza cried. “You won’t take him away from me.”

  “But Liza dear, if Hugo is indeed his father, he has rights. He can take him away from you any time he likes,” I added spitefully, driving the final nail in with resounding finality.

  I allowed myself a small smile as Liza grabbed the boy and fled from the room, crashing through the front door just as Hugo came around the side of the building after stabling his horse and walked toward her trap. I saw the look of horror Liza threw at a bemused Hugo as she tossed her son into the trap and took off, looking back at the house fearfully. I waved to her from the window just as Hugo walked into the parlor.

  “What was that all about?” he asked, looking at me as if I were a ticking bomb. “Was she making trouble?”

  “She was, but she won’t be anymore,” I replied cryptically and left the room. I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to hug my children.

  Chapter 35

  Liza was relieved that Johnny slept most of the way home, giving her time to fume. She was hungry, cold, and tired, but most of all — livid. She’d underestimated that wife of Hugo’s, expecting her to be the same frightened, lonely woman she’d known when she first stumbled up the ridge from her sanctuary at the church. Neve Ashley was now Lady Everly, and she was a formidable opponent. She’d gambled and won, correctly deducing that Liza would not be parted from her boy. Neve understood a mother’s love, and used it against her. Well, if she understood that, perhaps she would also understand that a mother had to do everything in her power to give her child a better life.