The Mysterious Merriana

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The Mysterious Merriana Page 20

by Carolynn Carey


  Charles was surprised but not angry, Merriana realized, and her relief was so strong that whatever had kept her going the past few days deserted her in the space of a second. Her knees gave way and she grasped a nearby table to keep from falling.

  “You poor thing,” Charles murmured as he rushed to Merriana’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her and help her to a chair. Weakened by her relief and Charles’s sympathy, Merriana could no longer hold back her tears, which were soon streaming down her face.

  Charles dropped to a knee beside her chair. “Merriana? What’s wrong? Has something happened at Hilltops?”

  Merriana shook her head. “Everyone is well, Charles, or at least Antonia soon will be. But you’re in great danger. I had to come warn you.”

  He gazed at her for only a second before standing and striding to the sideboard holding a decanter of brandy and glasses. He poured a small measure of the liquid into a glass and carried it back to Merriana. “Here, drink this. Yes, I know you don’t like it, but you need something to calm you. Very good. Now relax a minute. Then you can tell me why you’re here.”

  She told him everything as calmly and fully as she could, and he listened in silence, occasionally asking her to clarify a point. Only when she came to the part where their uncle had confessed to trying to kill their mother did Charles react strongly.

  “I’ll be damned,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “So all of those years, when father was looking for his unknown enemy, he was looking in the wrong camp. It was mother’s enemy all the time.”

  “Our uncle Ernest is mad, Charles,” Merriana said with a shudder. “I looked into his eyes yesterday, and I knew he was mad. But he was right about one thing. He is very, very clever. He thinks he has eliminated me by discrediting me, but he obviously has not eliminated you, and I have no doubt that he plans to kill you at the earliest possible moment.”

  “No doubt he does,” Charles agreed, “but you mustn’t worry about me. I’ve had a great deal of practice in taking care of myself. It’s you I’m worried about. I’m still surprised that he let you go.”

  “So was I, to tell the truth. Do you suppose he really did promise someone not to kill me, and if so, who could it be? Who would he know who would care whether I lived or died?”

  “I may have an idea about that. I’ve hired someone to investigate Uncle Ernest’s recent years, and have learned that his son, Damien, was quite opposed to his father’s activities. Their differences of opinion were so strong, I’ve been told, that Damien left home a few years ago and went to America to build a new life for himself.”

  “If he’s in America, it could hardly have been he who extracted such a promise from our uncle,” Merriana observed.

  “Perhaps he’s returned to England,” Charles said. “But this is all speculation, and that promise Uncle Ernest mentioned may have been a figment of his imagination if he is as nearly insane as he appears to be. In any case, I certainly will not trust him to live up to any promise where your life is involved. You, my dear sister, must go into hiding. We’ll allow Uncle Ernest to think you’ve taken a ship for unknown parts. Now, if I can only think of somewhere you’ll be safe. I thought you’d be in no danger at Hilltops, but obviously I was wrong. Our uncle found you there quickly enough and succeeded in making you look as ruthless as he. Still, I find it difficult to believe that Justin would turn away from you as he did. I would have sworn he really cares for you.”

  “You have to understand that Uncle Ernest did a very thorough job of making me look guilty. I don’t doubt that he knew Justin was trailing us and even arranged to give me the money at a time when Justin would observe his actions.”

  “Still… ” Charles obviously was not satisfied.

  “And,” Merriana continued, “you have to remember that when Justin first met me, I was passing myself off as a cook at the Drake and Cock. I don’t believe he’s ever completely trusted me since that moment.”

  “Nonsense! He believed in you implicitly when Uncle Ernest’s daughter appeared pretending to be you.”

  Merriana sighed. “It did seem so,” she agreed. “But obviously he had serious doubts about my identity all along. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so ready to believe the worst of me so quickly. But let’s speak of something else. How is Uncle Sylvester holding up? Have you seen him? Is he well?”

  “Yes, he’s healthy enough but still upset by this impostor business. He still believes you to be the true Merriana. I went to see him after I left Portsmouth and told him of Jacques’ appearance and of my certainty that you are really my sister. I also told him of my suspicions of his brother’s involvement, and he believes such a conspiracy would be in character for Ernest. In the meanwhile, Uncle Sylvester has agreed to pretend to accept the impostor until I can find proof that she is not you. I’m close to finding that proof, now that I’ve got someone investigating our uncle, but it will hardly do to confront the impostor with our suspicions—or even with proof—while her father is running loose with butchery on his mind.”

  Merriana sighed deeply. “What can we do, Charles?”

  “The first thing we must do is find you a safe hiding place, and one occurred to me as we were talking. A few days ago, I dropped Jacques off for a visit with an old friend from France who immigrated here ten years ago. Jacques’ friend and his wife live near a tiny village about fifteen miles to the south, in a neat little farm house. I’m sure they would welcome you as a guest, for they remember you as a child from their days in Paris, where Jacques had befriended them. As a matter of fact, they’ve been asking about you. I’ll take you there first thing in the morning.”

  “I hate to leave you, Charles.”

  “Thank you, my dear, but it’s the best thing you can do for me at the moment. Knowing you’re safe will help free my mind for dealing with finding and stopping our uncle Ernest.”

  When Merriana had packed to travel to the country with her uncle Sylvester and the impostor, she’d left many of her clothes in her bedroom in her uncle’s townhouse, so she was able to sleep in her own nightclothes that evening and also to pack all she needed for her visit with Jacques’ friends. She and Charles left London in the very early hours the next morning before anyone but servants were stirring. Merriana was not pleased to think of leaving Charles to face their dangers alone, but at the same time she was delighted with the knowledge that she would soon be seeing her beloved Jacques.

  Chapter 24

  The atmosphere at Hilltops was not a happy one. Antonia had completely recovered from the effects of the drugged wine, but she moped around “as though,” Mrs. Chesterson commented, “she has lost her best friend.” Antonia had little to say to Justin, but she did slip away to the Drake and Cock whenever possible. Only Justin realized that she wished to reminisce with Tom and Luke about Merriana and speculate on the occurrences that had led to the estrangement between Merriana and Justin.

  Justin, it seemed, was spending as much time as possible away from the house, often riding out across the fields or into the woodland early each morning and returning only when the sun was setting. Mrs. Chesterson was of the opinion that he was grieving because he had hired “the French hussy” as Antonia’s maid and then had failed to catch her after she and her accomplice had kidnapped Miss Antonia.

  Justin was not at all sure what he was feeling. He knew Antonia believed Merriana had saved her life, and to look into her eyes was to see disappointment and condemnation for his actions written large there. Thus, he began avoiding his stepsister, along with Tom and Luke, who also seemed to feel that he should have given Merriana the benefit of the doubt.

  And why hadn’t he? Justin knew in the deepest part of his being that, had it been anyone other than Merriana, he would not have been nearly as angry. But why? He asked himself the same questions over and over again as he rode through the fields and forests of Hilltops.

  Four days had passed before he allowed himself to return to the small abandoned cottage w
here Antonia had been held hostage. He rode slowly, noting landmarks and trying to remember exactly what Merriana had said to him that day. Here was the walnut tree under which he’d placed the ransom money, and there was the oak he’d hidden behind. What had Merriana said about drugging Antonia? Something about the child being in pain before Merriana had given her the drugged wine, but Justin couldn’t recall the exact words.

  The cottage appeared more desolate today than it had when he’d known Antonia lay inside, but he wasn’t sure why. He entered and looked around. The table was accumulating a new layer of dust, and the cot in the corner now providing a home for a large spider. Justin looked carefully at the dirt floor. There, between the table and the cot, was a scuffed spot, but he could detect no signs of a recent spill of liquid. Of course, the thirsty dirt floor could easily have absorbed much more liquid than a partial cup of wine and still have shown no signs. Was he rationalizing for Merriana? Was he trying to manufacture evidence that would prove her innocence? He had always been a man who knew his own mind, could dissect his own emotions, until he met Merriana. She had disrupted his entire view of himself. Why?

  He reminded himself that he had every reason to mistrust her. After all, she represented everything his training had taught him to beware of—a beautiful woman with a murky background who claimed to be one thing while she appeared to be something quite different. But, as he stood in that deserted cottage staring at the diligent spider spinning its web, he was at last forced to confront the knowledge his heart had possessed for days—against all dictates of common sense and training, he trusted Merriana. Perhaps, he told himself, it was only because he missed her so much.

  But whatever the reason, the fact was indisputable—he believed in Merriana, in her basic kindness, her courage, her strong sense of right and wrong. And he did not believe—had never believed—that she was guilty of Antonia’s kidnapping. And, if he accepted Merriana’s innocence, he must also recognize the fact that she would still be in danger from her uncle. For if Ernest learned that Antonia had not died and that Merriana had not been arrested, he would surely try once more to remove Merriana as an obstacle to his plans.

  Justin rode back to Hilltops as quickly as possible and immediately ordered his valet to pack and be ready to leave within the hour. Then he went in search of Antonia.

  He found her sitting in the library, curled up in a chair, staring out into the garden.

  “Antonia?”

  Antonia glanced at Justin swiftly and then as quickly looked away. “Yes?” she murmured.

  “I’m going in search of Merriana. Can I give her a message for you?”

  Antonia at last looked directly into Justin’s eyes. Distrust was written clearly in her gaze, but Justin pretended not to notice. He smiled instead. “You were right all along. I’ve just realized that I’ve been blind. Merriana would never have done anything to hurt you.”

  Within seconds Antonia had dashed across the room and wrapped her arms around Justin’s waist. “I knew you’d come to your senses, Justin. But where will you look? She could have gone anywhere.”

  “I believe, under the circumstances, she would have gone to warn Charles of their uncle’s activities. I hope I’m right, but in any case, he’s the first person I’m going to visit.”

  “When you find Merriana, will you tell her I can hardly wait to see her again and that I really appreciate her pouring out that wine so I wouldn’t die, and that she must be very, very careful, and that—”

  “Whoa, little one,” Justin interrupted. “I can only remember so much, but I get the general idea of what you’re trying to say, and I’ll express all of your feelings to her. Let me go now, for I have a few arrangements to make and I want to get started before it’s too late to reach London today.”

  Less than an hour later, Antonia was waving goodbye to Justin as he drove his curricle down the Hilltops drive. She’d promised to inform Luke and Tom of his plans, and she’d also agreed not to go beyond the gardens without an escort. Justin, obviously, feared Merriana’s uncle might come back. So she’d promised to be careful and told him not to worry. Then she’d hurried to the Drake and Cock to impart the wonderful news to Tom and Luke.

  “But why do you think he changed his mind?” Luke wondered. “He was sure she was guilty at first.”

  “For the same reason he couldn’t bring her back to face a magistrate when he thought she was guilty,” Antonia said.

  “And why might that be, Miss Know-It-All?” Tom asked.

  “Because he’s in love with her,” Antonia explained. “He doesn’t realize yet just how much he loves her, but he will someday soon. He took an important step in that direction today when he admitted that he doesn’t believe she would ever do anything to hurt me.”

  “If you say so,” Tom replied with a skeptical frown, “but it seems strange to me. If he’s in love with her, why would he have ever thought anything bad about her in the first place?”

  Antonia replied only with a deep sign. It really was unbelievable how little sense men possessed regarding deeper emotions.

  She returned to Hilltops in time for dinner, but her excitement over the day’s events had resulted in her having so much nervous energy, she was certain she could never settle down for the evening unless she made an opportunity to expend some of that energy. The days were long and there was still plenty of time for a brisk walk before the dusk turned into darkness.

  “Oh no you don’t, Miss Antonia.” Mrs. Chesterson had caught her just as she was about to slip out the door.

  “But Mrs. Chesterson, Justin said I could walk in the gardens.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t say anything about you walking out without something on your arms.”

  “But it’s warm outside,” Antonia objected.

  “It won’t stay warm. It’s rained somewhere because the air is already cooling off. Now you take a cloak with you.”

  “I don’t feel like going back upstairs for it,” Antonia lied. She was still using her recent experience to manipulate others into getting her own way.

  Mrs. Chesterson was not about to relent. She had a very real distrust of the night air, and although it wasn’t night yet, it was close enough to worry her. Fortunately for her peace of mind, she noted one of the downstairs maids crossing the hallway.

  “You,” Mrs. Chesterson called to the young servant. “Run up to Miss Antonia’s bedchamber and get her a cloak.”

  The maid hastened up the stairs and hurried to the wardrobe where Antonia’s clothes were stored. It was here the girl met her first obstacle. She hadn’t expected to find more than one cloak, but four were in plain view and she had no instructions as to which she should bring.

  She looked at each. This one would not match Miss Antonia’s dress, she decided, and another one was too heavy. The third was much too fancy to wear out of doors. The last seemed just right to her. It was a little rumpled and looked as though it had not been brushed off before being put away. She knew which her mother would want her to wear out of doors, so she hurriedly grabbed the rumpled cloak and carried it back down the stairs.

  “What took you so long?” Mrs. Chesterson demanded. “And why did you bring that one? You’ll just have to go back and—”

  But Antonia had already grabbed the cloak and dashed out the door before Mrs. Chesterson could finish her sentence.

  Antonia had taken the wrap only to appease Mrs. Chesterson, but the housekeeper had predicted correctly when she said the evening air would have turned chilly. Antonia threw the garment around her shoulders and thrust her hands into the pockets. What was this? She pulled out a folded piece of paper that didn’t look at all familiar to her. Unfolding it, she strained to read it in the fading light. “Fool,” it said. “Did you and your cohorts really think you could outsmart me?”

  Antonia read the remainder of the chilling message with a delighted smile on her face. This was the cloak Merriana had carried with her to the abandoned cottage. It was the cloak that she had later use
d to cover Antonia as she lay in her drug-induced sleep. And it had contained an irrefutable piece of evidence proving Merriana’s innocence. Antonia realized that Merriana and her uncle must have forgotten about the missive, and that no one else had even known of its existence.

  Within a few minutes, Antonia had located a second footman, who remembered that on the day she had been abducted, he had answered a timid knock at the back door where a young lad had thrust a paper at him, saying that he had been paid to deliver it, and then immediately running away. The footman was still indignant that he had been expected to carry a message to Antonia’s new French maid—“and her with the family much less time than me”—but Antonia was not interested in his pique. “Quit fussing,” she commanded, “and tell me if you took this paper directly to my new maid.”

  The underfootman sniffed and replied that he had done so, against his better judgment.

  If he expected sympathy, he was to be disappointed. “But that’s wonderful,” Antonia exclaimed with a smile before turning to run up the stairs to her room.

  She spun in happy circles before she put the paper in the drawer of her writing desk. She now had proof of Merriana’s innocence, but she had not needed it in the end. Justin had come to the right conclusion without any proof at all.

  Chapter 25

  When Justin arrived at the Duke of Daughrity’s townhouse at eight o’clock that evening, he expected to find Charles away from home, as most young bachelors would have been at that hour. What he did not expect was to be informed by a very haughty butler that the Comte de Mérchan was out of town for an indeterminate amount of time.

  “Ah well, Daniels,” Justin responded with his most charming smile, “if that is the case, perhaps Merriana can see me. Is she here?”

  “No, my lord.”

 

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