Twilight had begun to fall when a footman approached Allegra at the tea table, where she was serving several guests. He bent and whispered in her ear. “Milady, Sir Charles and Lady Baniard are here.”
Allegra scarcely had time to register surprise at the announcement when Charlie came swaggering into the room. He was more elaborately dressed than he’d been at Burlington House; his coat and waistcoat were a mass of thick embroidery, with gold braid scrolled around every button and buttonhole. He carried a feather-trimmed hat under one arm, and his chased sword hilt was covered in gems. “Annie,” he said loudly, and beamed at the assembled guests, clearly pleased to have an audience. “I regret to have missed your friends’ marriage. But I was busy getting married myself. At St. Mary le Bone.”
Allegra bit her lip in dismay. St. Mary le Bone was a crumbling old church, known chiefly for clandestine marriages. What had possessed Charlie to choose such a place? And with whom?
She didn’t have long to wonder. Charlie beckoned to a shadowy figure in the doorway. “Come, wife. Allow this fine company to pay homage to the Lady Gloriana Baniard.”
The woman who stepped awkwardly into the room was the most beautiful creature Allegra had ever seen. Her small lace cap scarcely hid an abundance of brilliant crimson curls piled helter-skelter on the top of her head. Her skin was like porcelain, clear and peach-tinted. Her features were exquisite, well-defined, striking. Her large, luminous eyes were a sparkling, moist green, like emeralds covered with dew, moss in the rain. She looked strong and healthy; not a fainting flower bud, but a fine, robust blossom. Allegra wondered if she had been born of Gypsies—wild and free and magnificent.
But her cheeks glowed with garish spots of color, and her full, rouged lips were a shade of red that nature had never intended. She wore several beauty patches on her face, a necklace, eardrops, and a quantity of rings and bracelets. Her gown, though clearly costly, was gaudy—a bright scarlet figured silk that scarcely suited a bride. Moreover, the bosom of the gown was cut to an immodest level, the rounded swell of her breasts covered neither by a neckerchief nor a scrap of lace. And the embroidered satin apron that she wore over her gown scarcely concealed the fact that she was in the final distended phase of pregnancy.
No one in the company moved, too stunned and embarrassed by this bizarre scene even to look at one another. In the deathly silence, Charlie laughed. Allegra was aware for the first time that he must have been drinking. His eyes were slightly glassy and his voice was loud and slurred. “Are you surprised, Annie? I had to guide the slut’s hand to sign the register. She can’t even read or write. But she’s a beauty, eh?” He whirled to Grey, his eyes dark with some deep emotion. “Eh, my rich brother-in-law?”
Grey clenched his jaw. “Why don’t you take your wife home, Charles?” he said quietly.
“No. I want everyone in the room to rise and bow to my bride.” He chuckled. “Gloriana. I didn’t even know that was her real name until she told the vicar.” He made a face at the woman. “Come in, Glory, damn it. Why do you hesitate?”
Allegra could read confusion and dismay in Gloriana’s eyes, the desire to flee her uncomfortable surroundings. But she held her head at a proud and defiant angle as she shuffled clumsily into the center of the room to stand beside Charlie.
There was the sound of suppressed snickering from one of the guests. Grey scowled and immediately stepped forward, holding out his arm to Gloriana. She chewed on her lip, clearly uncertain what to do. Deftly, Grey took her hand and slipped her arm through his. “Come, Lady Baniard,” he said, “let me introduce you to the company.” He led her to Allegra. “My wife, Lady Ridley.”
Allegra held out her hand and smiled, hoping to put the poor creature at ease. “Gloriana. Sister. Welcome to Morgan House.”
Charlie doubled up with laughter. “That’s the first time any woman has ever called you sister, eh, Glory? Mostly, they call you foe. Did I tell you, Annie, where I found this slattern?”
Gloriana pouted and looked around the room. “Charlie, don’t. It aren’t right, in such fine company.”
He sneered in her direction. “Scarcely married an hour, and you begin to sound like a mewling wife. Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
“In the name of heaven, Charlie,” cried Allegra, “is that a way to speak to your wife?”
Gloriana shook her head. “He don’t mean nothin’ by it, he don’t. He got a good heart.”
Charlie laughed at that. “And a good something else to tickle you with when you need it. Eh, girl? Now, Annie, let me tell you where I first saw Glory. Have you been to the theatre at Lincoln’s Inn Field?”
Allegra nodded, if only to humor her brother until she could think of a way to get him home. She exchanged a worried glance with Grey. It was clear he was just as concerned, but unwilling to humiliate Charlie in his present mood. His slightly drunken state. “Yes,” she answered, “we saw a clever play there last week.”
“Perhaps you don’t know, but oftentimes there’s entertainment in a different part of the theatre. Contests of skill. They help to pass the time for the spectators who might arrive too early for the play. Gladiators,” he explained. “As in the days of Rome. Half naked. They battle each other with staffs and flat blades until blood is drawn. Very amusing. Very profitable, if one casts a bet on the winning combatant.” He grinned and chucked Gloriana under the chin. “The women gladiators are the most wondrous to watch. Glory never got a scratch in all the times I saw her. By God, what a fighter!”
Grey muttered under his breath as Gloriana hung her head. “Now, sir, ’tis time you leave.”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed and he put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Charlie. Dear one,” said Allegra quickly, stepping between the two men. “Go home, I beg you.”
“No. I came here to celebrate my wedding.” He patted Gloriana’s rounded belly. “And my imminent child. Oh, yes, it’s mine.” He glared at one of the guests who had scarcely stifled a laugh. “Once I found the whore, I made sure that she wouldn’t ever again dare to earn money on her prat.”
“Did you lock her up?” asked Grey in disgust.
“No. I blacked her eye if she even cast her peepers on another man’s nocker.”
Allegra gasped. She wondered if Gloriana was as humiliated by this scene as she was. Charlie’s wild recklessness, his descent into foul street language, his insults to the woman he now called “wife.”
But there was no deterring her brother, she realized. If his behavior was a kind of revenge upon the world, there was no sending him home until the scene was played out to his satisfaction. She sent a signal to Grey with her eyes, hoping he’d understand and agree. “Come, Husband. Help me to introduce Sir Charles and Lady Baniard to all our guests.”
The introductions went more smoothly than she would have dared hope. Most of the company appreciated Grey and Allegra’s awkward position, and made every effort to be civil. That seemed to mollify Charlie somewhat; he even managed to smile and exchange a few harmless pleasantries with several of the gentlemen. And when Richard Halford bowed solemnly to Gloriana, then turned and invited Charlie to accompany him to his club in the next week or so, Allegra began to breathe more easily. Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be a disaster after all. Charlie was becoming more sober, more aware of himself and his pride, and Gloriana—awkward and out of place—was beginning to flag with weariness. Perhaps they wouldn’t even stay for supper.
Suddenly Richard stared intently at Gloriana, his brows knitting together in a pensive frown. “My faith, madam, but that’s an unusual pendant you have on your necklace.”
She put her hand to her throat. Hanging from her strand of creamy pearls was a brooch—a large, milky opal surrounded by a ring of emeralds. “Charlie give it me,” she said.
“I only saw one other like it before. A good friend of mine, Sir Jocelyn Middleton, had it made up especially for his wife upon the occasion of their marriage. To his own design. It was meant to be the only one of its kin
d.”
Charlie laughed. “Then the jeweler gulled him. For here’s its mate.”
Richard continued to frown. “May I ask where you got it, Sir Charles?”
“I bought it, sir.”
“But where?”
Charlie had an odd look on his face. “Why do you ask?”
“Because last year Middleton and his wife were set upon on the Oxford Road by a masked highwayman and his confederates. The jewel was stolen, among others.”
Charlie rubbed his nose, seeming to be abashed. “Ah, that would explain it.”
Strange, thought Allegra. She had suddenly realized that Charlie always rubbed his nose whenever he seemed to be disconcerted. Or backed into a corner. “What would it explain?” she asked.
He rubbed his nose again and looked sheepish. “In point of fact, I bought the bloody thing at Jonathan Wild’s Lost Property Office. The man makes a living at locating stolen property, and no questions asked. That pendant had gone unclaimed for a year. And so I bought it.”
“It remained unclaimed,” growled Richard, “because of the family’s sad history. The highwayman called himself Lord Bee. And never a more depraved villain has lived. After stealing their money and their jewels, he killed Middleton in cold blood and raped his wife in a most savage manner.” He turned to Allegra. “Forgive my unseemly frankness.”
Charlie shook his head. “Truly a tragic story. I shall forbid Glory to wear the accursed jewel ever again.”
“’Tis more tragic than you might imagine. Lady Middleton was never herself again. She died of an overdose of laudanum a month ago.”
“What a dreadful story!” said Allegra. “And they never caught this Lord Bee?”
Richard shrugged. “No one knows what he looks like. I remember only that Lady Middleton said that as he was violating her she bit the fiend’s hand. He pulled off his glove to tend the wound afterward. The wretch has a missing finger. ’Twas the only thing she remembered of that fearful event. Her coachman saw it as well, and can still attest to it.”
“Sweet Jesu,” muttered Grey.
Allegra felt the blood drain from her face. It couldn’t be Charlie. It couldn’t! Yet what did she know of him? Of the man he had become since those long-ago, happy days at Baniard Hall?
Richard glanced at the tight faces around him, his eyes narrowing. “Middleton was a good friend of mine,” he said. “May I trouble you to show me your hands, Sir Charles?”
Charlie drew himself up and jammed his hands into his pockets—the picture of outraged indignation. “You may not, sir,” he said. “Nor will I stay another minute in this company to be insulted. Come, Glory.” He turned toward the door.
Richard blocked his way, his jaw set in determination. “Forgive me, but I shall prevent you, sir, until I’ve satisfied myself. I give you my oath on that. If I must knock you to the floor, I intend proof of your innocence. Or your guilt. I have but to send for the coachman. I hired him after Lady Middleton’s death. He’s just outside in the courtyard.”
Cornered, Charlie looked wildly to Allegra, his eyes dark with entreaty. “Annie, don’t hate me. I had no choice. I was a hunted man.”
The tears flowed from her eyes unchecked. Tears of pity. Of sympathy. “Dear one, I understand.” Had she not been prepared to commit murder herself?
Gloriana tore the jewel from her neck and threw it down. “Damn you, Charlie! You swore you never killed no gentry cove!”
Grey slipped his hand under Charlie’s elbow and looked around the room at the other guests. Few seemed to be aware of the drama taking place. “Come,” he said, pulling Charlie gently toward the door. “No need to call attention to these proceedings. My man Gifford will find a lawyer. Someone with influence at Court. I feel sure we can intercede on your behalf.”
“No!” As they reached the door, Charlie shoved Grey up against a large, marble-topped side table and drew his sword. Richard let out a bellow and leapt forward, his hand on his own blade, while several of the guests jumped to their feet in alarm. Instantly, Charlie raised the point of his sword to Grey’s throat. “If anyone moves,” he snarled, “I’ll not hesitate to kill him.” Richard came to a halt, and the few servants in the room stood immobile, eyes wide with terror.
“Oh, Charlie, don’t do this,” implored Allegra.
“Why not, Annie? Do you know what will happen to me? At best, transportation and slavery again. More likely, the road to Tyburn for ‘Lord Bee.’ I have quite a reputation, you’ll soon discover. They’ll sell broadsheets on my life as the death cart makes its way to the gallows. No, thank you. I’m for the open road instead.” He laughed darkly and prodded Grey with his sword point. “But if my rich brother-in-law wishes to stop me, let him fight for the privilege.”
Grey growled in frustration. Backed to the table, the sword at his neck, he had nowhere to turn. “This is madness, Baniard.”
Charlie’s mouth twisted in a cruel smile. “Not at all. In truth, I do want to fight you, Ridley. I’ve heard much of your cowardly demeanor on the field of honor. ’Tis still the gossip of London. I should like at least one amusing memory to take with me.” He jerked his head in Allegra’s direction. “Annie, get Halford’s sword and put it on the table next to…the coward of Baniard Hall? Isn’t that what they call you, Ridley? I should like to see you on your knees, quaking in fear.”
Richard drew his sword. “I’ll take your challenge, sir,” he said quickly.
Charlie glared at him. “The devil you will! If you move, Ridley dies on the instant. Annie, the sword!”
Trembling, Allegra took Richard’s sword and placed it on the table beside Grey. She dared not look into his eyes, fearing to see the irrational terror in their depths. At Charlie’s barked command, she backed away from her husband.
“Pick up the blade, Ridley.”
Grey shook his head. “It will only be the worse for you. Give it up.”
Charlie flicked his sword arm, leaving a red slash on Grey’s neck. Grey winced. “They say you weep, you’re so afraid. You shake like an old tippler. Is it so?” He lunged more savagely. A bloody stain appeared on the shoulder of Grey’s coat. “I call you coward. I call you milk-livered craven! Will you fight me?” Charlie swung his blade at Grey’s leg. Grey grunted with the pain as the sword bit deep into his calf.
Allegra gasped in horror. How could Grey stand there and allow himself to be attacked? “Charlie, please!”
Grey wiped the sweat from his brow. “Why are you doing this?”
Charlie’s face twisted with hatred. “You sleep in my house. In my father’s bed. You fornicate with my sister and pretend it gives you the right to Baniard Hall!” He lunged again. Grey held up his arm to protect himself, and swore as the point of the sword caught him on the wrist.
“Godamercy!” Allegra cried out with the awful realization of her brother’s purpose. In some dreadful way, Grey had come to represent everyone who had ever hurt Charlie, the embodiment of all his bitter hatred, resentment, and envy. His painful grievances, nurtured through years of torment, had somehow come to be laid at Grey’s feet. Oh, God! she thought in horror, her heart torn in two. “Defend yourself, Grey,” she begged. “He means to kill you!”
Grey lifted his head and looked at her. The haunting fear in his eyes was mixed with something else. Uncertainty. She remembered that Grey had killed someone Ruth loved. And had been consumed with guilt because of it. She wished she could rush to him and give him all her comfort. Instead, she brushed at her tears and managed a brave smile. “Do it for me, Grey,” she whispered. “And for yourself. No matter what happens, I love you.”
He rubbed his hand across his mouth. Allegra wondered if he was thinking of the gin. Then he took a deep breath and picked up the sword.
“Charlie, I beg you,” said Allegra with a sob. “Remember the old days.”
“Did you?” he snarled. “You betrayed us all by marrying a usurper, by having Wickham in your power and doing nothing!” He sneered at Grey. “Now, Ridley, show
me if you’re a man.”
Grey lifted the sword. His knuckles were white from the tightness of his grip, and his hand shook as though he had the palsy. He clenched his jaw and made a tentative pass at Charlie’s blade, turning it aside for a moment. He took the opportunity of that moment to move himself away from the trap of the table at his back, then lunged again. His steps were sure, though his arm still quivered.
Charlie laughed and parried easily. “Is that the best you can do, coward?”
In some strange way, Charlie’s taunts seemed to strengthen Grey. Allegra watched in wonderment as his movements grew more confident, his sword arm steadier. He seemed to be reclaiming his skills and his courage at the same time. He was on the attack now, not merely defending himself from Charlie’s savage thrusts.
The calmer and surer Grey became, the more frenzied grew Charlie’s onslaught. He feinted, he attacked, he dodged, he cursed aloud, eyes burning with murderous hatred. He thrust wildly, his blade held low, and lost his balance, sinking to one knee.
At once, Grey leapt forward and stamped on his sword, pinning it to the floor and dislodging it from Charlie’s grasp. “It’s over, Baniard,” he said. Then he looked at Allegra, his eyes brightening with tears of relief. “It’s over,” he said again, and uttered a choking sound that was halfway between a groan and a joyous laugh. He retrieved Charlie’s sword from the floor, handed both weapons to Richard, and beckoned to one of the servants. “Fetch the watch,” he said hoarsely. “Tell them to bring handcuffs and leg irons.”
Charlie backed toward the door. He looked like a cornered animal, his shoulders sagging, his hands drooping under the skirts of his coat. Allegra felt a moment’s sharp pity and regret for the ruin of her brother’s life. And then she saw the pistols in his hands.
He trained them on Grey and the others, then jerked his chin at his wife. “Damn it, Glory! Don’t be a useless whore. Lay hold of my sister and come to me.”
Summer Darkness, Winter Light Page 36