This morning, he meant to leave her alone, just as promised, to write her letters. Once the door was closed, she began with a thorough examination of the room. As she’d expected, she did not find a desk drawer full of loose stones, or a treasure map rolled up in a pigeon hole. Yesterday’s tour of the house had convinced her that the library was the only room worth searching. It held the books and papers left behind when the previous duke had moved to the new house.
If there was nothing to be found, so be it. She assured Montague in the note she wrote him that she would follow his orders to the letter, but she had no real intention of rooting through Will Felkirk’s mind for the truth. Why risk disturbing the conveniently forgotten past, on the slim hope of gain?
It was far better, in her opinion, to ensure Margot’s safety through the rather ordinary method Will had suggested. If money was needed to make her situation permanent, she did not need stolen diamonds. Her husband was a most agreeable man. If he meant what he’d said at breakfast, she had but to smile and ask for it, and he would open his purse and give her whatever she needed. It would work for a time, at least. Justine would face the consequences if and when he remembered what had happened in Bath. With luck, Margot might be safely married before the truth came out.
But the first step towards that happy state was to invite her sister for a visit. Justine chewed on her pen, unsure of what to say. There was so much that had happened and so little that could be explained. Suppose someone at the school saw the letter, or enquired as to the reasons for Margot’s sudden departure. Suppose Montague had spies to prevent Margot’s escape from his power. She must not think of that. There was little she could do, other than to hope that Montague heard nothing until Margot was well under way.
In the end, she settled on a brief note, explaining that she had married and was eager for her sister’s company. Margot was cautioned to tell no one of the wedding, as it had not been announced to the whole of William’s family. Under no circumstances was she to communicate with Mr Montague, as it was a sudden elopement and Justine had yet to tell him of it. If anyone asked, she must simply say that she had been called home for a visit. Then she was to take the next carriage north. Once she was here, all would be explained.
She folded sufficient bank notes in the letter to allow for comfortable travel, sealed it up and summoned a footman to place it and the note to Montague in the outgoing post. Now she had but to hope that Margot appeared before her next visit with her guardian.
* * *
Will was secretly relieved that Justine had plans to occupy herself for the morning. If she had taken such care in nursing him to health, he doubted that she would approve of what he had planned for his day. If one wished to regain one’s life, some risk must be taken. He had no plans to remain swaddled in cotton wool, simply to please his lady.
His lady. The idea was more appealing than it had been, just a day ago. There were still problems, of course. But many of them involved coaxing his wife out of the shell she had built around herself.
His own problems would be dealt with as they arose. He meant to conquer the first one today. He walked out from the house, choosing a stouter walking stick than usual, in case he became unsteady. Though he tired easily, and had to rest once on his way, there were no instances of imbalance. While he did not feel as strong as a bull, he could almost forget that he had recently been an invalid.
His nose pricked at the scent of hay and horse, growing stronger with each step. Justine would laugh at him, should he tell her that the smell of manure was its own sort of cure. But it reminded him of how he felt in the saddle, riding a beast that was the epitome of strength and freedom. He paused at the doorway, offering a brief prayer, should anything remain of the spirit of his faithful Jupiter. If there was a heaven, Will’s place there must have a stall for Jupe.
He paused again, staring into the barn and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light within. Then he ignored the sadness and carefully searched his heart for any signs of fear. He had been telling himself it was his own foolhardiness that had nearly killed him. A weaker man might have blamed the horse that failed him. Of course, a stronger man would have had the sense not to take a jump. Could he really trust his own mind at all?
‘Hello, my lord,’ the stable master said.
‘Hello, Jenks.’ Jenks was technically a servant of the duke’s, but he had been with the family since Will and Adam were boys. The man had taught him to ride. Who better to understand the problems that might occur today? ‘I suppose you heard of my accident?’
‘Yes, my lord. We were all most concerned for you.’
‘I cannot remember much of what happened.’ It was a lie. But it was too painful to own the total blank of the incident. ‘It seems I lost my mount as well.’
‘A shame, my lord.’ There was no censure in the voice, even though he deserved it. ‘Are you planning a trip to Tattersall’s?’
Will sighed. ‘I do not know if I am ready to purchase another. But I must get a horse under me, sooner rather than later. If there is a problem with my judgement...’ For instance, if he collapsed in terror before taking the saddle. He had known of a man so shaken after a little tumble that he had sold his hunter and now travelled in nothing more exciting than a barouche with full livery.
Jenks nodded again. ‘It is widely said, sir, that when one falls, one must get right back on.’
‘It is almost a cliché,’ Will agreed, ‘but very true. What do you have ready in the stalls for me? I fancy a gentle ride about the property.’ He had emphasised the word gentle, but just the sound of it depressed him.
‘If you wish a gentle ride, I have a mare right here, ready to saddle.’ Jenks patted the neck of a nearby grey and her head swung round slowly to look at them.
Will had expected fixed feelings, when the moment came to ride again. Perhaps he would not experience outright terror. At least there would be some trepidation at mounting. However, at the sight of the horse Jenks suggested, he felt nothing but scorn. ‘You might as well put a saddle on Penny’s pet terrier. It would have more spirit than this beast.’
There was a sparkle in Jenks’s eye, as though he had meant the first choice as nothing more than a joke. He walked down the row of stalls, and stopped before a chestnut gelding. ‘Perhaps Aries will suit you better. Sound legs. A good chest. Not prone to starts or skittishness. He is a fine horse, my lord.’
‘True.’ He could handle the beast easily. But somehow, the thought of riding did not excite him as it once did. He glanced down the row at the largest stall, a place of honour in the centre of the stable. ‘Do you think my brother would mind if I borrowed Zeus?’
Jenks started in surprise. ‘He would not mind, for the beast needs exercise. But do you think it wise?’ Zeus was black as Satan and notoriously bad tempered. But he shared a sire with Jupiter and was as close as Will was likely to get to his old friend.
‘It is probably not the best decision,’ Will admitted. ‘But I would like to try. Keeping control of him will teach me to be alert, when in the saddle.’
‘Of course, my lord.’ Jenks gave him a doubtful look, but set about saddling the horse. And, as Zeus was wont to do, he spat out the bit, blew out his stomach to fight the saddling and danced in the stall, making it as hard as possible to accomplish the task.
The sight should have worried him. If he had nearly split his head after a ride, shouldn’t such a spirited animal worry him? Instead, when he looked at Zeus, he felt excited and eager to ride. It had been too long since he had felt a horse under him. When Jenks finally got control of the stallion and led him out of the stable, Will practically itched with the desire to mount.
It was not as easy as he’d hoped. His legs were still weak and he had to resort to a mounting block to get a foot into the stirrup. But once he was astride, the problems were minimal and he set out from the stable at a walk.
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br /> It was good to feel the wind in his face again and good to see the family lands from the accustomed combined height of man and animal. He glanced back at his house, hoping that Justine was not too near any of the windows, as he did not want to frighten her, then nudged the horse to a trot. There was still no sign of the fear he had expected to find in himself. Other than the strangeness of a new mount, there was nothing exceptionable about the ride.
He experimented with cantering, and even galloped for a short stretch with similar results. Zeus seemed more bothered by the outing than he, he recognised that the commands he was given were not from his true master and was still trying to decide whether he needed to obey them. But Will kept a firm hand on the reigns and tightened the grip of his thighs which, if truth be told, were still not strong enough to take too much more of this.
One last test and he would go back to the stables. He turned the horse towards a low fence at the bottom of the pasture. There was no risk in it. He had been jumping that particular obstacle since he was a boy and the horse was familiar with it as well. As they approached, he felt nothing but pleasant anticipation of both man and beast, for the moment of weightless flight as they passed over it. And they did, with ease.
It was then that Zeus chose his moment for rebellion, landing hard, dipping his head and digging in his feet to send Will over his neck and to the ground with a thump. His moment of triumph was immediately followed by the air being jarred out of his lungs and the warning snap of large sharp teeth beside his ear.
‘You dirty bastard,’ he wheezed, rolling out of the way.
‘My lord!’ Jenks was rushing to his side to take the reins and help him to his feet.
Will held up a hand to signify that all was well and managed a weak laugh. ‘Nothing to worry about, Jenks. I have not cracked my pate, or damaged anything but my dignity.’ Hardly even that. The fall had been tonic, just as the ride had been. He had not feared the jump or the fall. His riding clothes were stained with mud and he smelled of grass and dried leaves. But he had not shattered as he’d feared he might. His mistake had been in taking his brother’s miserable horse out in the first place. But there was nothing particularly fragile about him that might prevent such rides in the future.
He thanked Jenks for his help and promised to visit again soon and choose a more manageable horse. Other than that, the day had been a success. Yet it did not fully content him. Would he never regain anything from the time before the accident?
It was sad that he could not remember his wife. But how near to death did one need to go to erase even the fear of falling from one’s mind? He had been half-expecting that an innocent tumble would knock the memory back into him. He would see a flash of that time, on a different horse. Perhaps Jupe had startled at the sight of a rabbit, or stumbled on a hole. He had sent Will sailing through the air with the knowledge that the landing was likely to be a bad one, ending in pain and darkness.
Still, there was nothing. His mind was as smooth and as blank as a block of ice, with the things he wanted frozen for ever inside. He would find Justine and beg her for more information on the day of his accident. Perhaps she had seen something that might have indicated the reason for it, other than carelessness on his part. Had he been drunk, or in some other way completely unaware of what was about to happen to him?
When he returned to the house, she was nowhere to be found. The morning room was as tidy as if she had never occupied it at all. Her bedroom was equally empty, as was his. Only in the library did he see evidence of her presence. In the darkest corner of the room, a table was stacked with leather-bound journals his mother had kept while she still lived in the house. What she sought there, he was not sure, for his mother had been an indifferent correspondent at best.
Beside them, the family Bible was open to the page where his birth had been recorded, along with the significant events of his childhood. Was she really so eager to please him that she chose to research his past? What else could she be looking for but his mother’s anecdotal record of his life and perhaps a few favourite recipes and menus?
He smiled. He’d have found the behaviour strange, had it been described to him. But there was so much about his new wife that was odd, it hardly surprised him. If she had a fault, it was her almost obsessive desire to make him happy. Tonight, she would be surprised to learn that to accomplish her goal she must take as much pleasure as she gave.
Chapter Eleven
Justine pulled a row of pins and undid the last few knots of the lace on her pillow, so that she might fix the mistakes she’d made when she’d lost concentration. Perhaps she should ask Will to read Walter Scott tonight, especially the bit about tangled webs and deception. Of course, a dishonest woman in that story had ended up walled alive in an abbey. In her current frame of mind, that story would not be light entertainment.
‘You are sure there is nothing you can recall about the accident that might make things clearer.’
Since she was making the story up as she went, she doubted that she had the detail he was hoping for. ‘I was not close enough to see. And it all happened too fast.’ He had been questioning her all through dinner about the past. After nearly two hours, he was no closer to what he expected to hear, but she balanced on the edge of a knife.
He was silent for a moment and she took the opportunity to turn the tables on him. ‘In my opinion, it is fortunate that you do not remember. Suppose it had come upon you suddenly and given you a turn. It was very dangerous to ride at all. What if something had happened and you had fallen again?’
Now he was the one who was uncomfortable, squirming in his seat like a guilty little boy.
She looked up from her work, too surprised to remember the role she was playing. ‘You fell again, didn’t you?’
‘It was nothing,’ he replied hurriedly. ‘I was back on my feet as soon as I regained my wind. But it makes me all the more confused at what caused the earlier accident.’
‘I do not know why I bothered to nurse you, if you use your recovery foolishly.’ Was this real alarm she was feeling at the thought of him lying hurt again? It was always sad when a man so young and alive met with a tragic accident. But when had it begun to matter to her?
He was at her side now, full of apology. ‘If it bothers you, I will take no more chances. Adam’s horse is a brute. I will not take him out again.’ He knelt in front of her now, until he was sure that he had caught her eye. ‘Am I forgiven?’
‘Of course,’ she said, trying and failing for her usual calm smile.
‘Very good,’ he said, then stared down at the work in her lap. She resumed her knotting, and he watched, fascinated by the rhythmic click and switch of the bone bobbins, the exactitude of pins and the slow but steady increase in finished work. ‘What are you making?’ he asked at last, unable to contain his curiosity.
‘I do not know, as of yet,’ she said. ‘A bit of trim for something. It is an old pattern and I do not have to think to work it. But it makes up very pretty.’
‘If you do not know what it is for, then why are you doing it?’
‘To keep my hands busy,’ she said. ‘Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, after all.’
‘Have you given thought to my suggestion of last night?’
She frowned, trying to remember what it was that he had said.
‘When I told you to make something for yourself,’ he said. ‘A tucker for that bodice, perhaps.’ He was staring at her breasts.
She placed a hand on her chest to hide them. ‘I am sorry if the gown is too low. I will change, if you wish.’
He pulled her hand away, wrapping the fingers with his. ‘There is nothing wrong with the dress, other than that it is rather plain. Not that you need to adorn yourself, to be more beautiful,’ he added hurriedly. ‘It simply surprises me that you do not treat yourself as you do others.’
S
he nodded, relieved that she had done nothing to offend. ‘It is such a large amount of work, if it is only to go for me.’
He thought for a moment. ‘Then you must make something for me,’ he said.
At this, she let out one small laugh, before stifling the emotion so as not to seem disagreeable. ‘Now you are being silly. Men do not wear lace such as this.’
He walked to her side and reached into her work basket, removing a particularly feminine scrap and draping it over his wrist. ‘Perhaps I shall create a fashion for it. Can you not see me in a neckcloth trimmed in birds and butterflies?’
‘I cannot,’ she said, without looking up.
‘Then you must make something for yourself, as a gift for me. I wish to see you adorned in lace, as I said last night.’ Then he draped it over the bare skin of her shoulder, admiring the flesh through the holes in the cloth.
The gentle brush on her shoulder seemed to strike at the very heart of her. Her breath caught in her throat and the room seemed strangely warm. She shrugged to get free of it. ‘I do not think it would suit me.’
‘It is not as beautiful as you are,’ he admitted. ‘But it is lovely all the same.’
This time, it was his words that stopped her breath. He had complimented her before. Why did it matter now?
He trailed the lace up the length of her arm. ‘When we married, did you not promise to obey?’
‘Yes.’ She almost whispered the word. Even for this man, would she ever have the courage to make such a promise, knowing what it might entail?
He smiled, triumphant. ‘Then I should like to see you wear lace. Not all the time. But often enough to prove you understand your own worth. If you will not make it for yourself, I shall buy it for you. Yards and yards of it.’
The Truth About Lady Felkirk Page 11