A Conspiracy of Ravens

by Gilbert, Morris

  Xavier saw that the anguish in the woman’s face was not intermingled with joy.

  “Perhaps this is God’s way of bringing you back to Himself.”

  “I’ve never forgotten it,” Edward said. “When my wife was expecting, we committed that child to God. She told me many times that God had promised her he would be a blessing to many.”

  “I’ve wondered all these years how I could have missed God’s will so badly.”

  “Where is the child she bore?” Edward asked, his mind working quickly.

  “That’s the problem, Lord Darby.” A wrinkle appeared on the priest’s brow, and he said, “The boy disappeared when he was only thirteen years old. Old Meg was a prostitute. Life must have been hellish for the boy. She told me that she was unable to find him. She thinks he’s in London, but she’s not sure of it.”

  “But surely she had a family. Perhaps the boy went to one of them.”

  “No, she had no family, sadly enough. She told me so when she first came to the prison, and she never wrote letters—if she could write—and she certainly never received any.”

  The three talked for some time about the possibilities, and Edward and his wife wrung every word from the priest about Meg and the baby, who was now a young man of eighteen. Finally the priest said, “It may be that you can’t find the boy. Meg certainly couldn’t, although she probably didn’t look very hard.”

  “If he’s alive, we’ll find him, and we thank you for coming.”

  The priest got to his feet, fished in his pocket, and handed the earl a small paper. “There’s my name. You can find me at Brixton Prison almost anytime. Please get in touch with me if I can help.”

  “We will indeed do that. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  “I hesitated about coming, but the Lord seemed to tell me that it was the thing to do. I’ll be praying that you find your son.”

  The two made their farewells to the priest, and as soon as the door closed, Heather turned, and her face was alive in a way that Edward had not seen for years. “He’s alive! Our son is alive! I knew that it was God speaking. I just didn’t have faith.”

  “We mustn’t get too ahead of ourselves here. We may not be able to find the child.”

  “Yes, we will. God is in this, Edward.”

  “Yes, He is.” Now Edward’s eyes glowed with a fire that Heather had seen only rarely. “If our son is alive, I’ll find him!”

  NINE

  The sun had hidden itself for most of the day and even now made a decrescent shape in the grey December sky. Morning had brought a whirling snowstorm that caught London and the surrounding counties off guard. As Serafina stood looking out the window, she marveled at the beauty of fresh snow, which had sculptured the entire landscape into an enormous filigree—ornamental works of incandescent brightness.

  It makes the world look so clean and innocent and pure. The thought came to her, and she smiled at her own flight of imagination. “That was like something Dylan would say,” she murmured aloud. Her eyes admired the estate and the diaphanous workmanship of the snow. All was delicate, and the elaborate iron fence looked like a fragile piece of fine lace. Nothing was sharp or elongated now. Every shape was rounded, and it made the world a softer, even a kinder place—or at least the notion struck her for the moment. Shifting her glance, she watched as Dylan and David played in the foot-deep snow. The faint sound of their voices drifted toward her, and the sight of David’s face—the joy and the smile and the brightness of his eyes—pleased her. As for Dylan, he was like a large boy. She watched as he lay flat on his back and moved his arms from his hips to over his head. Making snow angels. Now David will have to make one too. Indeed, the boy did imitate the man, and finally Dylan reached out, picked up David, and tossed him lightly into the air. She could hear her son’s delighted squeal, and it pleased her.

  “Serafina, you’re going to have to do something about that man.”

  Caught off guard, Serafina turned and saw her aunt Bertha standing immediately behind her. Bertha’s hands were clenched tightly as she stared out the window, and a frown scored her face, making twin furrows between her eyebrows. Her mouth, Serafina noted, was like a steel trap. There was little kindness in it, and she realized how hard she had to work at keeping her aunt pleased.

  “What are you talking about, Aunt Bertha?”

  “What am I talking about? I’m talking about that . . . that actor out there. Look at him, a grown man playing in the snow!” Her voice was acid, dripping dislike, and she shook her head shortly, her eyes narrowing as she watched the pair. “I’m disappointed in you, Serafina.”

  “Are you? I’m sorry to hear that, Aunt.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you to have your son, the future Viscount of Radnor and peer of the realm, wallowing in the snow with a disreputable man like that?”

  “Why would you say Dylan is disreputable?” Serafina was indeed curious. She could not understand her aunt’s animosity. Somehow she knew her aunt had suffered something in life to give her such a bitter cast, and it was obvious that she was unable to form a pleasing relationship with anyone.

  “You know what actors are like.”

  “I suppose they’re like all other people. Some are good and some are bad.”

  “It’s not good for David to associate with such a person. You know their reputations. They’re an immoral bunch, all of them.”

  Serafina sought for an answer, and finally she said quietly, “David gets lonely. I know what that’s like.”

  Serafina’s strange remark caught Bertha. She stared at the younger woman, and for a moment it seemed as if she would soften. Indeed, her lips relaxed, but they quickly tightened once again.

  “You’re a grown woman and able to take care of yourself, but you’re putting David at the power of that man, and you know what he’s like. I’m surprised at you. You ought to be more careful.”

  “Are you forgetting that Dylan saved David’s life?”

  “Then you should have given him a reward.”

  “Given him money?”

  “Yes. Pay him off.”

  “I couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t take it in the first place.”

  Bertha sniffed and then shook her head like a terrier shaking an animal it had just caught. “Oh, he’d take it all right! He’s after your money.”

  “He’s never asked for anything.”

  “He’s waiting for the big ticket. That’s what he’s doing. Don’t you see that?”

  “What are you talking about, Aunt Bertha?”

  “Why, he’s bewitched you, Serafina. He’s going to make you fall in love with him or at least fall into some sort of feeling, and he’s making himself indispensable. Now he’s got a hold on you because he saved David’s life. Mark my words. He plans to marry you.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Wiser women than you have fallen prey to a young, good-looking man,” Bertha warned. “I wish you would warn him off the place.”

  “I can’t do that.” Serafina’s words were soft, but there was a steel edge to them that Bertha Mulvane had learnt to identify. And

  100 when the Viscountess Trent said something in that tone, the conversation was over.

  Bertha shook her head with disgust and turned, making her parting shot bitter and cynical. “You’ll find out one of these days what sort of man he is. I only hope you don’t disgrace the family before then.”

  Serafina watched her aunt go, wondering again at the resentfulness of the woman. She was well aware, as were other members of the household, that Bertha took things—spoons, jewellery from time to time, and somehow, in a way that Serafina could not figure out, even some of the furniture—from Trentwood House. There had never been enough damage done to cause Serafina to confront Bertha, and even now she felt both anger and pity for the woman. She has to be the most unhappy person in the world. She’s so bitter.

  Serafina turned back and watched as her son and Dylan continued to play in the snow, and a smile touched
the corner of her lips.

  “Faster! Faster, Dylan!”

  Dylan had found a sled in the barn and had rigged it so that David could ride on it. Now he was pulling it forward with all the speed he could muster. “Wait, David, and you will see something!” he cried out. He had pulled the sled up a steep incline and now glanced back at the house, which was clothed in the pristine whiteness of the morning’s snowfall. His glance went to David, whose cheeks were red and eyes were dancing with pleasure. “We’ll see what kind of a lad you are in just a moment.”

  Reaching the top of the crest, Dylan stopped and breathed deeply for a moment. His injuries from the encounter he’d had with the bull were practically gone, only a twinge in his side now and then. Matthew Grant had said, “It’s a good thing that your side got beat up instead of your face. You wouldn’t be much good as an actor if you were all scarred up.”

  Indeed, that was true enough, but now Dylan was thankful that he had regained practically all of his strength.

  “Are we going to slide down that hill, Dylan?”

  “Indeed, we are.”

  Dylan shoved the sled to the very brink. “Do you have the nerve to go down?”

  “Yes!” David cried. “I can do it!”

  “You must be cautious. What if you hurt yourself? Your mother would have my head.” Dylan joined David on the sled, shoved off, and the sled moved forward. It picked up momentum, and he heard David yelling with joy. When they got to the foot of the hill, Dylan turned the sled sideways so that it tipped over.

  David rolled over several times in the snow, and Dylan also was on the ground with him. “Is it fun, boy, you’re having?”

  “Yes!” David exclaimed. “I can do it by myself.”

  “You could hurt yourself.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “All right then. By yourself it is.” The two made their way back to the top of the hill, and this time when David got on the sled, Dylan gave him a gentle shove. He watched as the sled started down the hill, wondering if he had done the right thing, but it turned out well. David got to the foot of the hill without turning over and immediately called, “Do it again, Dylan! Do it again!”

  Dylan marched down the hill and said, “No, that’s enough for now. We’ve got to go back to the house.”

  “Why? I want to sled some more.”

  “We’re going to make snow cream.”

  “Snow cream?” David demanded, looking up at Dylan. “What’s snow cream?”

  “It’s a secret formula only we Welshmen know. Come along now.”

  The two tramped back to the house, David’s shorter legs going deep into the snow. Dylan suddenly reached down, grabbed him, and put him astride his shoulders. “Now, you ride there,” he said.

  When they reached the house, Serafina was standing at the open door. “I was watching you out the window on that sled. You fell. David could have been hurt.”

  Dylan reached up, plucked David off his shoulders, and set him down. His face was ruddy with the exercise, and he wore no cap, so his black hair contrasted almost violently with the whiteness of the snow. There was a masculinity, a strength about the man Serafina had been drawn to, and now, as always, he had the ability to make her seem small and fragile. This was something she did not like, for she prefered to think herself the equal of any man. Her common sense and rational approach told her this was not so, that many men would be physically stronger. But now she grew argumentative as she often did.

  “It’s dangerous. When you rolled over, he could have hurt himself.”

  “If a boy can’t take a little bump like that, let him put skirts around his knees.”

  “I’m all right, Mum,” David cried out. “We’re going to make snow cream.”

  “Snow cream? What’s that?”

  “It’s something I specialize in.” Dylan grinned at her. “We have to go to the kitchen.”

  “Well, you can’t track all that snow in. Go around to the back door.”

  “Right, you!”

  As they arrived in the kitchen, David was full of talk. He was excited and repeated the things he and Dylan had done. Once again it made Serafina realize how hungry the boy was for companionship. There were no small boys his age in the immediate vicinity, no one for David to play with. None of the servants had boys his age, and she knew he grew lonely, so she made a resolve to spend more time with him. She realized at once, however, that Dylan Tremayne added something to David’s life that was not her gift to give.

  “Let’s make snow cream!”

  “You don’t even know what it is.”

  “It sounds good though.”

  Nessa Douglas joined them, and Dylan said, “I need a few things from you, Cook.”

  “What would you need from me?”

  “We’re going to make snow cream,” David announced. “You ever make that, Nessa?”

  “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “Well, if you are a good girl, I’ll give you some of it.” Dylan reached out and pinched the cook on the shoulder. Serafina saw her face flush and wondered again at the power Dylan Tremayne had to please women. Cook was thirty-three years old and happily married, but still Dylan’s attention pleased her. “Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll tell you how you can get along without it.”

  “It would be unlikely, not while the mistress of Trentwood is here.”

  “Give him what he wants, Nessa, or there’ll never be any peace,” Serafina said.

  Dylan said, “There now. There’s not much I want. Just my own way. Now, I’ll have some cream, thick as you’ve got it, some sugar, and some vanilla.”

  Serafina and David watched as Nessa brought out the ingredients. “Now, I need a big bowl, the biggest you’ve got.”

  “This will have to do,” Nessa said, handing him a large, deep bowl.

  “That’ll be just fine.” Dylan mixed the sugar, cream, and vanilla and tasted it. “A little more vanilla, I think.” He added a few more drops of vanilla, beat it, and then said, “Now, we need three big spoons and three small bowls.” When Cook gave him a large bowl, he grinned at Serafina. “Now come outside and you’ll have your first bite of snow cream.”

  They donned their coats and went outside. Going down the steps, Dylan said, “We need to find a nice smooth spot where nobody’s walked.”

  “What about over there?” Serafina said, pointing to part of the lawn that was as smooth as the floor in the house.

  “Just right. Come along.”

  “Here now, David, you hold this bowl while I do the mixing.”

  David grasped the bowl by the edges, his enormous eyes watching Dylan as he began to scoop snow into it. He would scoop some, mix it with the ingredients in the bottom, and continue until finally it was done. “Now then, let’s have the bowls.”

  Serafina held the bowls out as Dylan filled them. “Let’s have the spoons now, ma’am.” Each of them took a spoon, and Dylan tasted the mixture. “Just right. See if you like it, David.”

  David took a heaping spoonful and stuck it in his mouth. His eyes opened wide. “It’s cold,” he said.

  “Hurts your teeth a little bit, but you’ll freeze them up. How does it taste?”

  “It’s good!”

  “Why, this is delicious, Dylan! I’ve never heard of it before!” Serafina exclaimed.

  “My grandmother Bronwyn taught me this when I was just a boy about David’s age or even younger. She was a fine woman, she was. Fair and beautiful she was, in my sight anyway.”

  David finished his bowl and demanded more.

  “Couldn’t we go in the house?” Serafina asked.

  “No, it wouldn’t do. Snow cream melts when you take it into a house. I’ll tell you what, though. We’ll make some more up, and we’ll put the bowl in the snow out here. That’ll keep it just about right, and it’ll get even better with a little aging.”

  At that moment James Barden, the butler, came to the back door and called, “Lady Trent, you have a visitor.”
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  “Who is it, Barden?”

  “It’s Lord Darby and his wife.”

  “Lord Darby? Tell them I’ll be right in. Put them in the small parlour. Come on, David. We need to get you cleaned up.”

  “I’ll just make some more snow cream and put it in the snow. Cover it up so that no varmints can get at it. We’ll have some more after a while, right, David?”

  “Yes!”

  Serafina went inside, took off her coat, and went at once into the small parlour. She was greeted by Lord Darby and Lady Heather, and she smiled warmly in return. “It’s so good to see you. I’m so glad you’ve come for a visit.”

  “Well, it’s more than just a visit,” Lord Darby said. “I understand your friend Dylan Tremayne is here.”

  “Yes, he’s been playing with David all morning.”

  “He plays with David?” Heather said with some surprise. “You never told us that.”

  Serafina could not help but smile. “He’s like a boy himself, a big boy, to be sure. He gets down on the floor and plays with David as if they were the same age.”

  “That’s wonderful, Serafina,” Edward Darby said. “We’d like to see him, if possible.”

  Serafina was curious. She turned and went to the door. “Louisa, would you fix some tea, please. For four. And tell Mr. Tremayne he’s wanted in the parlour.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Turning back inside, she sat down and studied them furtively. They were both upset for some reason, and she saw a tension in their faces she could not understand.

  They waited until Dylan arrived, and Edward stood at once and shook hands with him. Dylan was a little surprised. He bowed to Lady Heather and greeted them both.

  “We have something to tell you, Serafina.” He hesitated for a moment then glanced at Heather and seemed to gain strength. “We were visited by a Catholic priest, Father Francis Xavier . . .”

  Serafina listened as Darby told the story of the priest’s visit. She saw then that there was hope in the countenance of both of them that had been missing before.