Summer Darkness, Winter Light

by Sylvia Halliday

  Allegra allowed herself a silent prayer. Thank the good Lord. Five days hence! How close she had come to missing Wickham. “And the name of his ship?”

  “That, I know not.”

  She was filled with humble gratitude. God saw the righteousness of her cause. There would be time to learn the name of Wickham’s ship and to engage passage for herself. She felt as though she were coming finally to the end of her long nightmare. “I thank you, Your Ladyship. I’ll take my leave now.”

  Lady Dorothy rose from her chair and put a restraining hand on Allegra’s arm. “No. Stay a little. At least tell me how things were at the Hall when you left.” Her soft blue eyes held a silent plea.

  Allegra debated with herself for only a moment. That fool Briggs would never speak for himself! “If you must know, Jonathan Briggs is miserable,” she said. “He’s desperately in love with you.”

  Lady Dorothy gave a cry of joy, her eyes filling with tears. She clasped her hands together and bent over them for a moment. “I knew it,” she murmured. “My heart would not lie.” She looked at Allegra in bewilderment. “But why has he never spoken of it to me?”

  “Because he’s penniless. And proud.”

  Lady Dorothy stamped her foot. “Proud? Oh, the muttonhead! I have a fortune. I could bring a marriage portion to our union that would keep us both comfortable. What more could he want?”

  Her heart went out to the woman. “I, too, think he’s a proud fool, milady. And I’ve told him so, more than once. But he refuses to court you, if he has nothing to offer.”

  Lady Dorothy’s eyes flickered with hope. “You’re his friend, I think. Can he not be persuaded? I should make it worth your while.”

  Allegra shook her head. “It would please me to have it so. And with no compensation save pleasure in your happiness. But he’s a man of scrupulous honor. Surely you know that, milady. It would disgrace you both, he thinks, were you to stoop to marrying him. If he had a title other than gentleman, or a rich purse…But he has neither. And so he keeps his own counsel. And suffers in silence.”

  Lady Dorothy sighed in resignation. “I understand. I reckon ’tis that very honor which has drawn me to him. If he went against his own scruples to marry me, it would be a sad union. Shame would give way to recrimination. And from there to hatred. I’ve seen it happen with others, where the wife supports her husband.” She sighed again, fighting her tears. “I must forget him, I suppose. But I thank you for your kindness in telling me. ’Tis a comfort to know he returns my love.”

  “I wish it could end in happiness, Your Ladyship,” she said fervently. She curtsied and turned to leave.

  “Wait. Where do you lodge?”

  “The Bell Inn, in Wood Street, milady.”

  “Oh! But that’s a dreadful, crumbling old place. Stay with me here. I should welcome your company. My brother Richard is still in the country. And I feel like a stranger in this city, after so many years in India. Stay with me.”

  “Alas, that will scarcely be possible. I planned to sail with Lord Ellsmere,” she explained, realizing as she said the words how indecent that sounded. “That is, if he wishes to employ me again,” she added, then stirred uncomfortably. That sounded almost as wanton.

  If Lady Dorothy wondered about her traffic with Wickham, she was too gracious to show it. “Stay until the ship sails, then,” she said. “Be my companion. And perhaps you can mix for me that most excellent eye balm you prepared at Baniard Hall.” She bit her lip in sorrow. “I fear there will be a great deal of weeping in the weeks to come.”

  Allegra hesitated. It would be a pleasant stay, and she liked Lady Dorothy. But she had one concern. “If Lord Ridley should come to visit, I shouldn’t want him to know of my presence here. I fear he would persuade me to return to the Hall.” That was surely no lie, she thought with a pang of regret.

  “I doubt that he would wish to visit. Not after what happened. The rupture in our friendship…and with Richard away…But he’d never learn of your stay, in any event. You have my word on that.” Lady Dorothy twisted her fingers together in concern. “Is he still drinking so much?”

  “No, milady. I think he is somewhat improved.”

  “How glad I am to hear that. Perhaps the pain of Ruth’s death is beginning to fade at last. Perhaps if he hadn’t worshipped her so much, if he had seen her clearly, it would have been easier for him.”

  Allegra found that an odd thing for Lady Dorothy to say. See Ruth clearly? “What should he have seen?” she asked.

  “It may simply be gossip, you understand. But I’ve heard talk lately that the Pickerings—Ruth’s family—boasted among their friends of having cheated Grey.”

  “What do you mean? How cheated?”

  “They were rich in land but heavily in debt, so ’tis said. They scraped together a considerable dowry. Largely borrowed, I think. To make it seem that Ruth had no need of a good marriage. And then, once the vows were given, they contrived to have Ruth prevail upon Grey for vast sums of money at every opportunity. He gave it willingly, and never asked for an accounting. Thanks to that, the Pickerings are now almost free of their debts. They only regret that the golden goose died with Ruth. Or so I’ve heard tell.”

  “Oh, poor Grey!” cried Allegra without thinking. “That is…” she blushed, “His Lordship. To be duped so foully. Small wonder the Pickerings hated him so when his wife died, and spread the vile rumors of murder.”

  Lady Dorothy nodded. “And Ruth must have known of their devious plot. There’s no way she could have been innocent. Oh, I wish I could tell Grey of it. But he would only see the good in her, and despise me for staining her memory.”

  Allegra gulped away her unhappy tears. “He’ll see the truth when he wishes to see it. And not a moment before, Lady Dorothy. ’Twould be folly to malign a dead woman.”

  Lady Dorothy eyed her shrewdly. “You must call me Dolly. For we’re sisters, I think, sharing the same heavy burdens of love. Come.” She slipped her arm through Allegra’s and turned to the door. “I’ll have my servants fetch your furnishings from the Bell. Come. Walk with me in the garden until candlelight. Talk to me about Jonathan. And I’ll tell you of the Grey Morgan I knew long ago.”

  “Right this way, Mistress Mackworth. Cap’n Smythe be waiting in the roundhouse.” The grizzled seaman guided Allegra up the ladder that led from her cabin in the aft of the ship to the open poop deck. “Mind the pitch of the ship,” he said, taking her by the elbow and steering her to the door of the large cabin.

  “We’re well away at last,” she said, scanning the distant coastline and the sunset sky. “Have we left the Thames yet for the open water?”

  “Not a quarter of an hour ago.” He pointed toward the still-bright west and a cluster of houses along the shore. “There be Leigh-on-Sea, at the mouth of the river.”

  “And we have had our clearing from the customs men? With no disturbances, I trust?” She’d stayed secluded in her cabin, well furnished with food, since coming aboard Saturday afternoon. She had no wish to be closely questioned by the authorities while they inspected the ship for contraband; she was carrying far too much money for a woman of her seeming humble station. She had even arranged a small payment to the searcher of the customs so that he would leave her and her belongings in peace.

  The seaman nodded in answer to her question. “Aye. All’s shipshape.”

  “And who will be at the captain’s table?” she asked. She knew it would be Wickham, of course. She had questioned the mate and learned that Wickham had paid for his meals, as she had. Her heart beat in wild impatience to meet him at last. But she was curious about the other passengers. Since Captain Smythe had stayed ashore at Gravesend to observe the Sabbath, they had all been left to their own devices.

  “Not too many at table,” replied the seaman. “Most of ’em has chose to furnish their own meals. Cap’n Smythe and the mate, to be sure. And the lord what come aboard just afore you did, on Saturday. And there be one other gentleman, what rowed over fr
om Tilbury Fort as we were weighing anchor.”

  He opened the door and ushered her into the roundhouse. It was a large and airy cabin, which served the captain for his quarters. Near the expanse of windows, a round table had been set with a fine white linen cloth and an abundance of pewter plates, cutlery, and drinking cups. There was a flask of wine and a jug of ale on the table, as well as a bowl of steaming squash and a platter of fresh bread and cheese. A seaman in a white jacket and head cloth stood nearby, holding a large dish of roasted pigeons. Clearly, Captain Smythe believed in his comforts.

  But Allegra scarcely had eyes for her surroundings, nor for the captain and his mate who had jumped to their feet at her entrance. Her attention was on the man who sat beneath the windows and leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other.

  She had been prepared for his youth—he would be no more than twenty-four or -five now, by her reckoning. But she wasn’t prepared for his softly round and pleasant face, the boyish smile that played at his mouth, the jovial good humor in his eyes. He wore a small peruke, but he hadn’t quite managed to tuck up every lock of his reddish-gold hair under it; several wisps straggled onto his neck. Moreover, his shoulders were dusted with an excess of white powder that had shaken loose from his wig. His dark-gray suit was ill-fitting, and his carelessly tied cravat was beginning to fray.

  At the captain’s introduction, he smiled broadly, struggled to disentangle his legs, stumbled against the table, and managed at last to haul himself to his feet. “Mistress Mackworth! A pleasure!” he boomed, holding out his hand.

  She nodded, but kept her hands at her sides. “Lord Ellsmere.” She forced herself to sound civil. But giving him her hand was more than she could manage.

  He didn’t seem to notice the slight. He continued to beam as the mate seated her, then regained his own chair. “I’ faith, when Captain Smythe told me there would be a gentlewoman at his table, he failed to mention how beautiful she was.”

  “You are too kind, milord,” she murmured, and contrived to return his smile as warmly as she could. Perhaps she could use his geniality to her advantage. She had planned to creep into his cabin tonight, stab him, and throw her knife overboard; since there were at least a dozen passengers on the ship, it would be difficult to connect the killing to her. But if Wickham proved as agreeable and tractable as he seemed, her task would be even simpler. She could lure him onto the deck at any time during the voyage, kill him, and push him overboard.

  She shivered at her own cold-bloodedness. It was one thing to plan his murder. But if she found the courage to carry it out, could she live with it on her conscience for the rest of her life? Be still, Mama, she thought. I will avenge you all.

  “You’re shivering, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head. “Let me send for something to cover your shoulders.”

  “No. ’Tis not the cold. Only a sudden troubling memory.”

  “Then I charge myself with cheering you this evening.” He reached for the glass decanter. “Let me offer you some of the captain’s excellent wine.” He filled her cup, then set the wine bottle back in its place on the table. As he did so, the large, turned-back cuff of his coat caught at his own drinking cup and toppled it, spilling the remains of his wine onto the cloth. He grinned, shrugged, righted his cup, and calmly refilled it. “I’ve christened your cloth, Captain Smythe,” he said with a laugh.

  “We’ve seen rough waters, Lord Ellsmere. ’Tis not the first spill.”

  Nor yet the last, I’ll wager, thought Allegra wryly, watching Wickham’s ungainly movements. She felt a surge of unreasoning anger. This was her adversary? This was the man she was sworn to destroy?

  He took a large swallow of his wine and smiled at the captain and the mate. “I count on you gentlemen for a fair voyage,” he said. “The last time I made a sea trip…” He looked beyond their heads and his smile deepened. “But here’s our other messmate, come to join us at last. Bless me, but I think I know you, sir!” He jumped to his feet in pleasure.

  “Yes, we’ve met, Lord Ellsmere. When I bought Baniard Hall from you.”

  Allegra froze in shock at the sound of the deep voice behind her. In another moment, Grey Ridley had moved to the table and was holding out his hand to Wickham.

  Dear God, she thought, feeling the sudden pounding of her heart in her breast. She didn’t know whether she was glad or dismayed to see him. If he had followed her, it could only mean that he wanted to keep her from her sworn path. But, oh! How handsome he looked, how wonderful to see his dear face again!

  He shook hands with Wickham across the table, then turned to Allegra and reached for her fingers. “’Tis Mistress Mackworth, the captain tells me.” At her dumb nod, he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. She trembled, remembering the feel of those lips on her mouth and body. “And I am Greyston, Viscount Ridley,” he finished. He released her hand and sat down beside her.

  “Your Lordship,” she murmured, giving him a tender smile that held all her love in its depths.

  He smiled back with his mouth, but she heard the hard crunch of his jaw, and saw the cold light in his eyes. “I trust we shall have a pleasant voyage, ma’am.”

  She stared at him, bewildered and confused. Why was he angry? Was he so unforgiving at her leaving?

  Captain Smythe motioned to his servant, who brought around the meat. “Your man doesn’t intend to join us, Lord Ridley?”

  “No. Jagat Ram prefers the solitude of his own cabin.” He poured himself a cup of wine, then held it up to the captain’s servant. “If you’ll be so kind as to put a bit of water in this.”

  “You’re guarding your drinking, sir?” said Captain Smythe.

  “Yes. I found that I was beginning to do damage to my constitution with an excess of gin.”

  Allegra felt a thrill of joy at his words. “And you have foresworn gin, milord?”

  “For good and all, ma’am. I need to keep my wits about me. I have lately discovered that the world is peopled with creatures, such as yourself, perhaps, who act rashly and foolishly. If I’m to keep them from their mad course, I must be sober.” His eyes were like glittering knives of cold, carved amber. His voice was sharp with sarcasm.

  Allegra turned away and bent to her food. It would be twice as difficult for her now. She had not one adversary, but two.

  Wickham’s hearty laugh filled the cabin. “That sounds far too serious and calculated, Ridley. When last we met, you had nothing more in mind than to retire to a quiet refuge in the country. You no longer enjoy the Hall, then?”

  “The country has served its purpose to refresh me, sir. I now find that there are certain things missing from it. And until they can be restored or replaced…” He glanced briefly at Allegra and scowled. “But you, Lord Ellsmere. How fare you, since you sold the Hall?”

  Wickham stabbed his pigeon with his fork and smiled ruefully when a gob of grease spurted onto his waistcoat. “Not well. Not well at all, sir. My father, alas, liked fast women, slow horses, and every game of chance devised by man. And expected me to pay for his pleasures after his death.”

  “Which you have, most commendably, so I’ve heard.”

  “I’ faith, it was a formidable task that took me the better part of two years to accomplish. And most of my inheritance.” His face brightened. “But, having said that, I must tell you that I have renewed prospects. My mother’s aunt—a dear old creature—has just died in the fullness of her age, and left me her house in Yorkshire. Whitby, in the North Riding. A charming seacoast town. Besides the house, there’s a bit of land and a modest income that goes with it. A man could take up farming quite comfortably. In point of fact, you find me on my way there now, sir, to take up residence.”

  “And with great good humor, I think,” said Grey. “You seem happily resigned to your lowered station.”

  For the first time, Wickham’s jovial expression deepened into a frown. “I’m not a man of driving ambition, Lord Ridley. It ruined my family.”

  And m
ine as well, thought Allegra bitterly. Why was Thomas Wickham such an ordinary, reasonable young man? She wanted to hate him. She needed to hate him!

  “And may I ask why you are aboard, Lord Ridley?” said Wickham.

  “I’m searching for a bond servant of mine. A runaway. I had reason to think she might be going to Yorkshire.”

  “But that’s a serious offense, milord,” said Captain Smythe. “Why don’t you call in the authorities, and get a warrant for her arrest?”

  “’Tis a capital crime, sir. And I wouldn’t see the wench hanged for it.” He cleared his throat; it was a strangely ominous sound. “Which is not to say that the saucy creature doesn’t deserve to feel my hand across her backside when I find her!”

  Allegra’s head snapped up in alarm, only to find him smiling grimly at her. She gulped and tried to keep her voice from shaking. “But a bond servant, Lord Ridley. It seems so cruel. Wouldn’t you consider releasing the woman from her contract?”

  “I was prepared to do so, but she betrayed my trust. Now, I’d need a great deal of persuasion to be convinced. Listen, now…” he said, ticking off the points on his long fingers, “she ran away in the night. She refused to tell me of her plans, though she had every reason to think I’d be sympathetic to her. And she’s a damnable thief. Would you trust a woman like that? No matter how many letters she left you?”

  “It would depend on whether or not you believed her letter,” she murmured. Surely he couldn’t think that her avowal of love was merely another devious trick! “Did you believe it?” she whispered.

  His glance softened, reminding her of the tender lover he had been that night. “I did. And I do.” Allegra felt relief flooding through her. He believed in her love. He forgave her. Then his eyes grew suddenly hard and she trembled. “But it scarcely assuages my anger at her running away,” he growled. “The wench still owes me for that.”

  Captain Smythe laughed as he rose from the table. “I should not want to be in that girl’s shoes when you do find her!” He turned to his mate. “Come, Baines. To work. The sky was clear this evening, but old Godwin was complaining of grief in his bones. And his bones never lie.”