‘Let her go, Charles!’
So intent was he upon his task that Standish had failed to take note of Richard’s stealthy entry into the room and it was not until he felt the earl’s fingers flexing around his own throat that he was made aware of his lordship’s presence. Releasing Helena instantly, he flung her away from him as, gasping for breath, he made a vain attempt to free himself from Markfield’s steel-like grip.
Hooking his hand over the back of Standish’s collar, Richard dragged him backwards and then, after swinging him around to face him, raised his fist and dealt his cousin a punishing uppercut, the force of which had the dazed man slumping to the floor, whining in agony.
In two strides the earl was at Helena’s side where, lifting her to her feet, he cradled her in his arms, groaning, ‘Oh, my dearest darling! What has he done to you? Forgive me, please—I should never have left you!’
‘I—I’m fine, Richard—truly,’ she did her best to reassure him, although it was impossible to disguise the hoarseness in her voice. Yet, despite that fact that she was still finding it difficult to breathe properly and that her heart was still beating nineteen to the dozen, she could not be entirely sure whether these irregularities were symptomatic of the terrifying shock she had just experienced or to the fact that her beloved husband was holding her so closely to his chest, stroking her head and calling her his ‘darling’ and his ‘precious one’. But, as she snuggled more closer to him, she was in no mood to stop and fathom out the causes, she simply revelled in the joy of being in his arms once more, his words and actions only seeming to confirm what she had hardly even dared to hope.
‘He’s gettin’ away, sir!’
Fuller’s urgently croaking cry instantly wrenched the reluctant Richard out of his almost surreal state of jubilant exhilaration. He had been so lost in the ecstasy of having Helena in his arms again, his body responding in joyful anticipation as he surrendered himself to the sweet warmth of her soft curves pressing so invitingly against him, that the cares of the outside world had all but wiped themselves from his mind.
A muted curse escaped his lips as he forced himself to release his hold and, stepping away from her with a muttered apology, he swung on his heel, turning towards the door just in time to catch sight of his cousin’s hasty retreat. He was about to start after him, in order to take him to task for his inexplicable attack on Helena when the sudden realisation came to him that, in his great eagerness to comfort his stricken wife, he had failed to discover exactly what had brought about Charles’s totally uncharacteristic behaviour.
‘I don’t suppose you can tell me what the hell went on here, while I was gone?’ he said, directing his question towards the man in the bed who, having lost a great deal of blood both before and during Helena’s emergency treatment, had, for the past fifteen minutes or so, been hovering between a deep-rooted need to keep himself alert and a pressing desire to sink into the comforting oblivion of unconsciousness.
He gave Richard a weary nod.
‘I…already…told…her ladyship,’ he said, haltingly. ‘Stan-Standish was aiming to k-kill you.’ He wriggled himself up into a sitting position and, after he had taken several deep breaths, his voice grew a little stronger. ‘I looked up and saw this cord—dangling from under a huge stack of slates, it was—seemed rather odd to me, but then, when his hand caught my eye—tugging at the cord—I tried to warn you, sir, but the whole lot came tumbling down…’
Charles had tried to kill him?
Unable to believe what he had heard, the earl cast a questioning look over at Helena, who having been deprived of the comfort of her husband’s arms, had sought the security of the fireside chair.
She nodded.
‘I caught him trying to suffocate Fuller,’ she told him. ‘I suppose he was trying to prevent him telling what he had seen. But then, of course…’ She paused and a slight shudder ran through her, before she forced herself to go on. ‘Once he realised that I was just as much of a threat, he—he…’
A great lump came into her throat, making it impossible for her to continue. Great tears welled up in her eyes—tears that she had, thus far, succeeded in keeping at bay—and, turning away from him, she hid her face in her hands and proceeded to sob her very heart out.
With a quick exclamation of dismay, Richard was on his knees beside her, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her gently against his chest. An anguished moan emanated from somewhere deep within him as he rocked her to and fro.
‘Oh, God,’ he choked, as he buried his face in her violet-perfumed hair. ‘This is all my fault! How, in God’s name, am I ever going to persuade you that I love you after having left you to face all that?’
‘You could try telling me!’ came a muffled croak from somewhere in the region of his heart and, starting back in disbelief, he looked down to find Helena staring up at him, her eyes wide with wonder and a trembling smile on her lips. ‘Is it true?’
‘That I love you?’ Choking back a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, he bent his head and captured her waiting lips, intent on savouring every breathtaking moment of the magical event.
‘As true as every precious hair on your head,’ he averred, as soon as he had recovered sufficient breath to continue. ‘I believe I fell in love with you the very first time we met and I seem to have been falling deeper and deeper with every day that passes.’ Pausing, he leant forward to press his lips against her brow. ‘No chance that you might return my regard, I suppose?’ he whispered provocatively, as he transferred his lips firstly to her earlobe and then to her cheek.
‘Oh, Richard,’ she sighed, snuggling up against him, ‘I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you. To think that I might have died without ever having—oh, my goodness!’
Pushing herself away from him, she cried, ‘Enough of this! Shouldn’t you be trying to find Charles, before he does any more damage?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he groaned, getting reluctantly to his feet. ‘But why he should have suddenly taken it into his head to do away with me, I simply cannot fathom.’
Helena stared up at him, in some surprise. ‘Why, for Markfield, of course, you great gudgeon! With you gone, the entire estate would be back to its original size and he would be the only one left to lay claim to the title!’ Pausing, as a sudden dreadful thought occurred to her, she then whispered fearfully, ‘You don’t suppose that he could have had anything to do with your cousin Simon’s death, do you?’
‘Oh, hardly!’ returned Richard, with a brisk shake of his head. But then, as he started to recall what he had heard of Simon’s accident, he could not help but begin to wonder a little. ‘I suppose I’d better try to track him down,’ he said, as he made for the door. ‘But, first of all, I think it might be wise to ensure that you have one or two of the others down here to—er—keep you company.’
Well aware that he had been about to say ‘protect you’ but, not wishful of causing her unwarranted alarm, he had quickly sought a more suitable choice of words, Helena merely nodded and smiled her loving thanks at him.
‘It’s probably time I changed Ben’s dressing now, anyway,’ she said, ‘and I should be glad of someone else’s help, if either Bet or Cissie would care to volunteer their services.’
‘Good as done,’ he replied, as he went out and closed the door firmly behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Having taken less than twenty minutes to locate Standish, a puzzled Richard stood silently in one of the shadowy recesses of the main hall, at a complete loss as to his cousin’s present actions. As far as he could make out, Standish appeared to have moved all the smaller pieces of furniture from their designated places against the walls and was in the process of assembling this collection at the foot of the staircase.
Frowning, the earl stepped forward. ‘What are you up to, Charles?’ he called softly.
With a startled curse, Standish dropped the small table he was holding and wheeled round to confront his cousin.
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‘Clear off, Richard,’ he yelled at him. ‘Just leave me be, will you? I have no desire for your company at the moment!’
‘Perhaps I might help?’ suggested Markfield, strolling over towards a pair of heavy Jacobean chairs and proceeding to drag one of them across the floor towards his cousin’s jumbled assortment. ‘Where would you like me to put this?’
‘No, no! That sort of thing won’t do at all!’ retorted Standish, with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘That heavy dark oak will take far too long to catch—’
Eyeing his cousin angrily, his words came to an abrupt halt. ‘Just go away, Richard,’ he scowled. ‘I don’t need your help.’
‘I rather think you do, Charles, old man,’ replied Richard gently as, having worked out his cousin’s intention, he inched his way forwards towards the haphazardly arranged pile of furniture. ‘I really can’t allow you to burn the place down, you know.’
‘Why not?’ sneered Standish. ‘It means nothing to you—I even heard you say that you’d lost all interest in it. You’re no better than the previous pair. Uncle Leo sat back and allowed the Hall to fall into a shambles and, even though I badgered Simon to do something about it, he simply laughed in my face!’
For a moment, Richard was lost in confusion but then, as he studied the strange glitter in his cousin’s eyes and the fevered expression on his face, it became increasingly clear to him that his cousin Charles’s mind had become badly unhinged.
‘Uncle Leo is the one to blame for leading Simon astray,’ he ventured carefully. ‘When we were boys—’
‘When we were boys,’ scoffed his cousin, as he lowered himself on to one of the stair treads and reached across for the tinderbox that he had placed there. ‘When you and he were boys, you mean! As I recall, neither of you had any time for me, when I was a boy!’
‘There are four years’ difference between our ages,’ Richard felt constrained to remind him. ‘Such an age gap hardly signifies now that we’re adults, but to a couple of ten or twelve-year-olds, four years can seem a huge difference. You could hardly expect us to allow you to accompany the pair of us when we were engaged in pursuits that were dangerous, even for a couple of tearaways like Simon and me.’
‘That didn’t stop you playing your filthy tricks on me!’ retorted Standish belligerently.
‘Tricks?’ frowned his cousin. ‘I don’t recall ever having played tricks on you.’
‘Well, Simon certainly did! What about that basket of rotten peaches he perched on the roof of the gazebo?’
‘Oh, that!’ returned Richard, with a short laugh, as he took another small step forwards. ‘As I recall, that trick was intended for me, in repayment for the trip-wire I’d arranged just outside his bedroom door that morning. Just tough luck that you happened to come along and pull the string before I got there. Really spoiled Simon’s day, that did—although I do recall that we both went to considerable trouble to clean you up before we took you home to your mother.’
His stared across at his cousin, his eyes softening in recollection. ‘You have to remember that the reason Simon and I were so close was because we had both lost our mothers when we were quite young, Charles, and, even though Grandmama did her best to make up for our loss, we were both rather envious of you still having yours.’
‘Well, you’re welcome to the old bat now!’ exclaimed Standish, his attention momentarily diverted. ‘She’s nothing but a pain in the neck, as far as I’m concerned! And you can quit trying to butter me up, Richard—you always were a bit of a do-gooder, as I recall. If only you had had the decency to get yourself killed at Waterloo, everything would have worked out according to plan.’
‘Well, you can hardly expect me to apologise for that, old chap,’ reasoned Richard lightly, taking the opportunity to move forwards another few inches. ‘Surely, any blame for my survival should be directed towards the incompetence of Boney’s fighting forces?’
Glaring at him, Standish let out a hollow laugh. ‘It’s perfectly obvious that you lead a charmed life,’ he said. ‘Even when I succeeded in edging you off the pavement into the path of that dray in Bond Street last month, you managed to leap out of its way without a scratch!’
‘Good Lord!’ gasped his cousin, blinking back his shock. The somewhat disturbing incident was still quite vivid in his memory but, having assumed that it had been merely the press of people on the pavement that had caused his sudden lurch into the roadway, he had endeavoured to put the matter out of his mind. ‘I always had the feeling that there was something decidedly fishy about that business!’
‘And then you had to go and mess everything up by getting involved with the Wheatley girl,’ continued Charles, ignoring Markfield’s remark.
About to take another step forwards, Richard faltered. ‘Helena?’ he breathed softly. ‘What has she to do with all of this?’
‘Should have thought that was pretty obvious!’ sneered his cousin. ‘Your ridiculous arrangement suited me down to the ground to begin with—especially since it meant that you would be able to carry on with the rebuilding programme. Plus, I had come up with several rather clever ideas on ways to deal with you once the Hall was back in shape. Only, then, of course,’ he finished bitterly, ‘you had to go and marry the stupid wench and ruin everything!’
Richard, his hands fisting tightly at his sides, was experiencing an almost uncontrollable desire to charge through the barrier that separated the two of them and render his cousin permanently senseless. But, heavily conscious of the fact that, in taking such a course of action, he would lose any chance he might have had to discover the full extent of Charles’s duplicitous chicanery, he forced himself to heave in a deep breath before asking, in fairly measured tones, ‘What difference did that make to your plans? If you intended to do away with me anyway, I fail to see where Helena fits into your equation. The property and title are both entailed, so you were bound to have inherited.’
‘Not if you had already done the business and begotten the next Standish heir!’ snarled Charles as, reaching into his jacket pocket, he drew out a small leather pouch and proceeded to unwrap the band that secured its neck. ‘Even persuading the Cummings woman to attend your wedding didn’t seem to have the desired effect of setting the pair of you at each other’s throats—although by your manner the next morning, I did have every reason to suspect that my rather neat placing of that same lady’s earring in your new wife’s bed had managed to achieve a reasonable modicum of success!’
Learning that his cousin had been the cause of the distasteful scene between himself and Helena on their wedding night was the straw that finally broke Richard’s resolve. Reaching the barrier, he began to drag away the various tables and chairs, his fury mounting with every breath he took. ‘By God, Charles,’ he ground out, ‘I’ll see you pay for that!’
‘Not in this world, old chap!’ returned the other calmly as, leaning forwards, he proceeded to sprinkle the pouch’s black powdery contents over the assembled pile in front of him. ‘Markfield Hall should be mine by rights and, if I can’t have it, I intend to make damn sure that nobody else does!’
Having instantly recognised both the sight and smell of gunpowder, Richard started back, his eyes wide with alarm. ‘For pity’s sake, Charles!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t be such an idiot!’
But it was too late. Charles had already opened his tinderbox and, having struck his flint and set light to one of the small strips of cotton inside, he gave a careless laugh and tossed the flaming rag on to the gunpowder-sprinkled woodwork.
The blast from the ear-shattering detonation that followed his actions hurled Richard halfway across the hall, only to result in his head striking against the solid leg of the very Jacobean chair with which he had been attempting to confound his cousin minutes earlier, rendering the earl immediately unconscious.
The thunderous noise of the explosion permeated throughout the entire house, shocking the sleeping workers into instant wakefulness and bringing them to the upper gallery in a conce
rted and panic-stricken rush.
Helena, a sickening dread filling her heart as she tore down the passage, with Rueben and Cissie hard on her heels, was amongst the first to enter the hall itself.
The sight that met their eyes, however, although quite shocking to behold, was not quite the total devastation for which Standish had hoped. Some of the furniture that had failed to shatter into pieces had started to burn, it was true, but the amount of fire they caused was minimal. It was the blast from the explosion that had caused the most harm, ripping out several of the newly repaired windows and destroying much of the lower staircase. On attempting to go forwards through the palls of black smoke to inspect the damage, Helena found herself being pulled away by Rueben who, having spotted the mangled remains of the earl’s cousin amongst the smouldering debris at the foot of the stairs, was determined that his mistress should not catch sight of the abomination.
In directing her away from the horrific scene, however, he was unable to prevent her eyes from alighting upon Richard’s still form, as he lay sprawled awkwardly across the floor tiles, the back of his head smack up against the leg of a very solid-looking chair.
Uttering a low wail of distress, Helena skidded across the hall and landed on her knees at her unconscious husband’s side.
‘Oh, no! Not now!’ she wept, as she tenderly lifted his bleeding head into her lap, stroked his blood-streaked hair away from his temple, her shaking fingers probing carefully for his wound. ‘Please God! Don’t let me lose him now, just as we’ve found out how much we love each other!’
As her distraught tears fell upon his cheeks, Richard’s eyelids flickered and slowly forced themselves open but then, as his befuddled eyes gradually focused themselves upon his weeping wife’s face, they widened and he breathed, ‘My beloved angel! You’ve come back to me!’
At his words, a slight flush covered Helena’s cheeks. Although she was fully aware that her husband must still be in a state of shock and hardly responsible for this temporary disorder of his mind, she could not help but recall that she had spent the better part of the night before last locked in his arms, whilst he had murmured that self-same epithet over and over again! Hurriedly putting the recollection aside, she held him tightly in her arms, scarcely daring to believe that, apart from a rather painful-looking cut on the side of his head, he appeared to have escaped the worst of the explosion.
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