The odd fact of having been born with six toes on his right foot had never bothered Chance, and since it was extremely rare for anyone to see him barefoot, he never gave his extra digit any thought. Could it have been that sixth toe that bothered her? There were, he knew, many deeply superstitious people who were terrified of any physical oddity, certain it was a sign of the devil. He grimaced, nodding to himself. In Annie’s case, seeing that extra toe had no doubt set the seal on her belief that he really was a devil’s spawn.
Satisfied that he had solved the mystery of Annie’s strange behavior, he shut the door once more and walked over to the velvet rope. Giving it another pull, he said to Fancy, “Hopefully this time we shall have more luck getting our morning’s refreshment.”
“Unless you terrify the next servant.”
Chance grinned at her. “It is not a habit of mine, but to ensure that it does not happen again, I think that I shall conceal the probable cause of Annie’s fear.”
Fancy looked puzzled, even more so when Chance found a pair of leather slippers near the bed and started to put them on. “Your feet?” she demanded, incredulous. “Annie was frightened by your feet?”
“Considering what a splendid figure of manhood I am, I know that you find such a thought shocking. But yes, I very much suspect that it was my feet, specifically my sixth toe, that overset her.”
“A sixth toe?” Fancy asked, lively curiosity banishing some of her bad mood. “You have six toes?”
With an expression of long suffering, Chance sat on the bed and, after taking off one slipper, lifted his right leg and wiggled the six toes for her.
“Oh my,” Fancy exclaimed with a gurgle of laughter. “You really do have six toes. I never noticed.”
“Perhaps,” Chance purred, “that is because you have generally been interested in another part of my anatomy?”
* * *
While Fancy and Chance were sparring in his bedchamber, Annie had reached her destination: Constance’s suite of rooms. Constance had woken some time ago and was sitting up in her bed, enjoying a second cup of coffee, when Annie burst into the room.
Her eyes dilated, her face a pasty white, Annie exclaimed, “It is as I always feared: he is alive.”
Still feeling rather disgruntled over Fancy’s marriage to Chance, Constance was not in a pleasant mood. Sending her longtime companion an impatient look, she snapped, “Oh,
Annie, do make sense. Who is alive?”
Annie gulped. “Chance Walker.”
“Well, of course he is,” Constance replied irritably. “We watched him get married yesterday.”
“No, I mean—” Annie stopped, suddenly seeing the ground open up before her. She had never told the truth about the night Letty’s twins had been born. Never said a word to a living soul. After leaving the squalling baby on the bluff overlooking the river that night, she had run back to the house. To Constance’s anxious demand to know if she had taken care of disposing of the infant, Annie had only nodded, too scared and distressed to do anything else, certainly unwilling to admit that she had been frightened off by someone approaching or that she had merely left the baby on the ground and fled back to the house.
All through that stormy night and the next day, Annie had been positive that her crime would be discovered, and she had lived in guilty terror. Certain that whoever had been coming through the woods that night would have discovered the baby and would present it at any moment to the big house, she started and blanched at every sound.
When her worst fears were not realized, she was relieved, if still filled with guilt and curiosity about the baby’s fate. Sam’s unexpectedly early return and the sudden trip by the entire family to England had been a blessing for Annie. With an ocean between her and the abandoned infant, the time in England had made her feel safe and had dulled her feelings of culpability over her part in the ugly events of that night.
When she saw Chance for the first time, he was nearly five years old, and the suspicion that he might be the infant she had abandoned on the bluff did not cross her mind. It was only much later, as he grew, in Annie’s fearful imaginings, to look more like Sam every day, that the horrifying idea that he might indeed be Letty’s child began to take hold on her mind. The fact that Morely Walker was considered to be his father did not calm her growing anxiety. If anything, that knowledge increased her fears, as Morely had been living at Walker Ridge the night of her crime.
For some time now, she had been worried that Chance was indeed the abandoned infant, but it wasn’t until this morning, until she had seen those six toes, that she knew all her fears were true. The infant lived. Not only lived, but right under their very noses.
Constance, of course, had never given the infant another thought. But then, she hadn’t known the truth.
Apprehensively Annie stared at Constance, who, still waiting with increasing impatience for an explanation, asked curtly, “Well, you mean what?”
Annie’s hands twisted together helplessly. She was terrified of speaking and equally terrified of keeping quiet. Her secret had been safe for over thirty years. Why reveal it now? But if she didn’t and by some wicked fate Chance’s real identity were discovered, Constance would be caught totally off guard. All her life Annie had been blindly loyal to her less than lovable mistress, and all she could think of was that Constance must be warned of the danger.
As quickly and concisely as she could, Annie unburdened herself, ending only after she told of seeing this morning those six toes on Chance’s right foot. All through her recital Constance had sat frozen, her face growing whiter by the moment, her eyes darkening with pure rage.
When Annie’s voice finally faded away, there was silence for ten seconds. Then, furiously tossing her entire tray and its contents on the floor, Constance sprang out of bed. Wrath evident in her every movement, she approached Annie and, stopping in front of her, viciously slapped the older woman.
“You stupid, stupid fool! I give you one simple task to do and you bungle it. Having failed me, you then have the audacity to lie to me about it! And to think that all these years I had confidence in you.” Her face contorted by rage, Constance demanded, “What else have you failed to do? I knew I should have dismissed you and left you in England. I knew it!” She took several angry steps around the room. “Now what are we to do?”
Her face smarting from Constance’s slap, Annie said timidly, “No one knows but us.”
Constance flashed her a look. “You are a fool. ’Tis obvious that Morely Walker found the baby. He knows who Chance Walker is.” Her face twisted. “And wouldn’t he take great pleasure in seeing me brought down.”
“But why didn’t he tell Master Sam as soon as he found the baby? The master came home not two days later.”
Constance stopped her wild pacing and looked thoughtful. “Yes, but we left for Richmond almost immediately,” she said slowly. “Don’t you remember?” She paused, then thinking aloud, she murmured, “And while Sam was hustling us all to Richmond, to catch a ship sailing for England, Morely must have been traveling to his cousin Andrew’s home with the baby.” She smiled maliciously. “Sam and Morely must have just missed each other. What a piece of good fortune for us that they did.”
Thankful that the worst of Constance’s rage seemed to be over, Annie ventured uneasily, “But why did not Morely write to Sam? Telling him of finding the baby?”
Constance waved an impatient hand. “Knowing Morely, probably because he was not positive and because he has an inbred mistrust of putting anything in writing. He no doubt suspected what had happened, but he had no proof. Besides, he owes Sam everything. He would not have wanted to jeopardize his own standing by pouring out his incredible suspicions.” Constance tapped a finger against her lips. “Yes, knowing Morely and how he vacillates, I am certain that is what happened. He wanted to tell Sam personally, but Sam was far away in England, and while you and I came back with Jonathan the following summer, Sam and Letty stayed in England for several more years.
” An expression of contempt crossed her face. “After burying her only son, Letty was far too distraught to face Walker Ridge. And Sam, the besotted fool, was willing to indulge her, even if it meant banishing himself to England indefinitely.”
Annie nodded. “I can understand Morely not wanting to put such a shocking thing on paper, but why hold his tongue all these years? Why did he not say something as soon as Master Sam did return?”
Constance shrugged. “Four years is a long time to wait to reveal the sort of secret he thought he knew. Perhaps, by the time Sam returned, he was not quite so certain.” She suddenly looked more cheerful. “Actually, what does Morely really know? He found an abandoned baby on a river bluff at Walker Ridge, who coincidentally just happened to have been born the same night as Letty’s child. Of course, the fact that the baby has six toes on his right foot makes it a bit ticklish for us. There is no denying that the circumstances would be considered suspicious, I will grant you that, but it does not prove anything. Besides, who is going to believe that I would stoop to such a vile act? No one would credit me with doing such a thing. And Morely knows it. That is why he has kept his tongue between his teeth. He suspects, but he does not know for certain.”
“So we should not worry?” Annie asked nervously, her expression anxious.
“Of course we should worry, you stupid slut. While Chance’s birth date and toes do not prove anything, there is too much coincidence. It would certainly cause talk and speculation if Morely ever did nerve himself to speak.”
“But what are we going to do?”
Constance’s jaw hardened. “We are going to do what you should have done years ago: get rid of Chance Walker.”
“Oh, Constance, no. Can we not just let it be? We have been safe this long . . . and you just said nothing can be proved. Mayhap Morely intends to keep his suspicions to himself.”
“You are a fool,” Constance said disparagingly. “I do not intend to run the risk of the truth ever coming out, or even just the fact that Morely found a newborn baby in the vicinity of Walker Ridge the same night Letty gave birth to a stillborn son. Morely has never fully explained where he got the child—now we know why. But even though most of the family believes that Chance is his own by-blow, if Morely were to start talking . . .” Constance’s face grew grim. “Well, it just does not bear thinking about. Getting rid of Chance is the only solution.” She looked pensive. “And possibly Morely, too.”
Annie’s heart sank. Leaving that small baby on the bluff had been hard enough, but to contemplate the murder—and there was no use calling it anything else—of two grown men, two innocent men, who merely had the misfortune to stand between Constance and what she wanted, made Annie feel sick. It was true that they also constituted a possible danger, but Annie did not care. Murder was murder. The merciful Lord had heard her prayers that long-ago night and had allowed the baby to be saved, and at this late date she was not going to undo the Lord’s work.
Annie looked over at Constance’s set features and amended her thoughts. She might not be able to completely wash their blood from her hands, but she was not actively going to take part in the murder of Chance and Morely. Constance would have to find someone else to do the deed.
Almost as if she read Annie’s mind, Constance said, “This is not something that we can do ourselves. They are two strong men. We will need help.” She took another turn around her spacious bedroom. “Jonathan will have to know,” she finally said. “He will know how to handle things.”
Not much comforted by Constance’s words, Annie said miserably, “He is not going to be very pleased to learn what we did—and you do not know that he will agree to murder.”
“When he learns the danger that Chance Walker constitutes for him, I know that my son will not hesitate.” She smiled smugly. “He is, after all, my son. He will not let the major portion of the Walker fortune slip through his fingers. Especially not to Chance.”
It was early evening before Constance could contrive a private moment with Jonathan. Because the house was still overflowing with wedding guests, and Sam had wanted to avoid any confrontation between Chance and Jonathan, Jonathan had spent the night at Foxfield. It had been late in the afternoon before he had finally returned to Walker Ridge. Many of the guests had departed that morning, and with the exception of the continued presence of Morely and Pru, the household was almost back to normal.
Constance had sent a note to her son earlier in the day, demanding his company, but since Jonathan was still seething over Ellen’s defection and the bitter knowledge that Fancy had spent the night in Chance’s arms, he was in no mood for his mother’s antics and had ignored her message. His mood had not been helped by the sight of the newly wedded pair walking about the grounds with Sam, Letty, Morely, and Pru, Chance’s arm resting possessively around Fancy’s waist. He knew that Chance and Fancy would be leaving tomorrow sometime for Devil’s Own and his banishment to Foxfield would be at end . . . and his plans for Chance’s demise could begin to take shape.
Somewhat buoyed by that thought, he eventually went in search of his mother. He found her in her sitting room with Annie, and from their expressions when he entered the chamber it was apparent that Constance’s summons had been more important than he had imagined.
“I thought,” he said dryly as he settled himself comfortably in a pale blue channel-back chair, “that I was the only one suffering from the megrims. You both look as if you have eaten bad fish. What is it?”
The telling didn’t take long, with Constance doing most of the talking. When she finished speaking both women looked expectantly at Jonathan.
Except for a twitch at his temple and the clawlike grip of his hands on the arms of the chair, he displayed none of his inward fury and rage. Not only had Chance stolen his bride, but now the bastard could very well steal his heritage, his fortune, as well.
Fighting down his rage, he tried to view the situation coolly and methodically. Like his mother, Jonathan saw immediately that not only Chance but Morely, too, would have to be eliminated and as soon as possible—and without raising any suspicions or any finger of guilt pointing in his direction—or his mother’s. But unlike his mother, he also realized that there was another source of danger, and his gaze fell thoughtfully on Annie.
Annie had helped raise Jonathan from an infant, and she knew his moods and ways, perhaps better than even his mother. She was not as blind to his faults as Constance, and when he turned that cool blue gaze on her, a quiver of fear went through her and her heart thumped painfully in her breast. She had never, before this very moment, considered herself in any danger, but catching a glimpse of the icy implacability in the depths of Jonathan’s eyes, Annie knew that her own life was in peril.
Frozen with terror, Annie watched him as he rose to his feet and, after walking across the room, stopped in front of her. His expression was carefully bland, no sign of what he was feeling evident in his features. But Annie knew. Still, if she hadn’t seen that one frightening glimpse into what he was really thinking, she would have been utterly disarmed.
A polite smile on his handsome face, Jonathan put out a hand to help her rise from her chair and said, “If you please, Annie dear, I think that this is something that Mother and I must discuss privately.”
Knowing it was her death that he wished to discuss with Constance, Annie hesitated, sending Constance a pitiful glance. But Constance, unaware of the currents flowing through the room, waved her away. “Go on. I can tell you what you need to know later.”
If she was correct and Jonathan did plan to kill her, there was no use appealing to Constance, Annie realized sickly. If a choice had to be made between herself and Jonathan, there was no question which one of them Constance would choose. Not willing, not wanting, to believe that Constance would agree to her murder, Annie reluctantly allowed herself to be ushered from the room.
Light-headed with terror, Annie stood swaying in the hall as the door shut firmly behind her. She might have been wrong about the
expression in Jonathan’s eyes, she told herself weakly. Why, she had raised him! Surely he would never hurt her. And she had been Constance’s faithful companion for nearly fifty years. Constance wouldn’t let Jonathan murder her. But Annie sensed that she was only trying to reassure herself, as she slowly, painfully, moved down the hall. If Jonathan wanted her out of the way, then her death warrant had been signed.
And inside Constance’s pretty blue-and-cream sitting room, that was precisely what Jonathan was suggesting.
“Annie?” Constance said incredulously, her eyes very wide. “You think that she would betray us? Oh, do not be silly. Annie adores me. And you, too, for that matter. She would never do anything to hurt us.”
His hands steepled in front of him, Jonathan said simply, “Mother, you are letting your affection for her blind you to the very real danger she represents. What is the use of getting rid of Morely and Chance and then allowing Annie, a servant, to live, knowing that she could expose us? She would know not only about the original, er, incident, but also about the murder of two men. You told me you have already discussed it with her. Do you really want to live the rest of your life wondering if you are truly safe?”
Constance looked uncomfortable. “Well, no, but you are talking about Annie.”
“And?”
“Well, she is . . . she has been with me for so many years,” Constance finished lamely. “She has never given me a moment’s alarm.”
“Yes, and if it were not for Annie’s foolishness, we would not now be in the position of having to dispose of two grown men.”
Constance made a face. “I realize that you are right, but I just cannot bring myself to . . . Let me think about it?”
“Very well,” he said grimly. “But do not waste a great deal of time in doing so.”
He rose to his feet and started toward the door.
“Wait!” Constance cried. “What about Morely and Chance?”
Jonathan turned and looked back at her, a bone-chilling smile on his face. “Oh, I would not worry about them. I shall take care of that particular problem. You may rest easy on that fact.”
A Heart for the Taking Page 25