by Janet Woods
The back of his neck prickled. He turned his head slightly and Adele’s gaze captured his, like a fly being pulled into a spider’s web. For several moments they were joined by a quivering thread of the past, when the perspective of everything they’d ever felt towards each other was recognized with a startling clarity.
One for one … They’d been made for one another.
She gave a tiny gasp, as if she’d taken his heart into her hands and experienced the beating core of him. The clatter of voices around them faded and he smiled. Could they start all over again … forget her past? He had a strong urge to kiss her, to take her home and make love to her over and over again.
She must have read his mind, for the heat in her smoky eyes cooled and she turned them away from him. Since when had she learned to reject his approaches with such disdain? He’d played the gentleman today and had attempted to seduce her gently. He’d learned that she responded well to reminders of the past, when they had laughed at the slightest thing together. His plans for seduction had come to nothing … all due to the intervention of some poacher with a gun.
Why was he bothering with her when she’d proved her lack of loyalty? He had no answer and was simply following his instinct with some vague feeling that he’d find a way to take his revenge uninterrupted – though what form revenge would consist of he had no idea.
Perhaps he should forget taking revenge, just marry her and make an honest woman out of her.
He grinned when his stomach rumbled and Patience said, ‘I know a hungry man when I hear him. I’ve just made some broth and dumplings, would you like some, my lord?’
He kissed her hand, and, ignoring the fact that he’d recently consumed a pie, said, ‘You are the answer to a gentleman’s prayer. I’ll probably devour the bowl as well.’
The first shot had been fired by someone else, since he’d already had Ashburn in his line of sight. Somebody else had slipped away, and he’d heard a horse. Whose horse?
Oliver Bryson was a good shot, he recalled. If it had been him in the woods, and if he’d been aiming at Adele – he would have killed her!
But why would he want to?
His blood ran cold when he realized how close she’d come. Surely Oliver Bryson didn’t hate her to the extent that he’d kill her to be rid of her. Why should he when she’d never done him any harm?
The Manning sisters were bustling about with bowls of broth and dumplings and they were served informally, seated round the scrubbed pine table in the kitchen, like they had when they’d been children.
He was so hungry he could eat several pork pies complete with a crusting of red ants for spice! Adele swallowed only a small portion of the broth. No wonder she was so slender, but attractive all the same. He mused that he was a hungry man in two ways, lacking in sustenance, and without a woman to bed. He didn’t know which he needed more.
He must go and see Oliver Bryson, get to the bottom of this affair.
After they’d eaten, he left the coachman at the cottage with instructions to unhitch Daisy’s cart, spread the straw and introduce her to her new quarters.
‘I’m going to have a look around and will be back before too long,’ he said, and left swiftly.
Ryder took the carriage at a fast clip, but to no avail. There was no sign of anything or anyone sinister between Brackenhurst and Poole. There was a man and woman on a cart, a child sleeping against the woman’s breast. They stopped to pick up an old man in a faded brown robe with a cowl concealing his face. His ageing back was bent over a stick.
The day had a slow pace to it despite his personal haste. It filled him with the need to idle along and enjoy the feel of the sun on his back. There was a hum of bees in the air, and he’d been looking forward to his sojourn with Adele at the pool.
He passed the rectory and a little further on found Oliver Bryson’s horse munching on the long grass amongst the gravestones in the churchyard. It whickered a greeting when Ryder ran his hand over him. The beast’s hide was warm enough to alert Ryder to the fact it had been ridden recently. Its hooves were muddy, which meant nothing in the country since the ground was often muddy.
Oliver Bryson’s rifle leaned against a sunny corner. It was empty and the barrel retained warmth.
Shading his eyes from the sun with his hand, Oliver Bryson advanced from the gloomy interior of the church. ‘My lord, this is an unexpected surprise.’
‘Is it? I rather thought you might be expecting me.’
‘I can’t think why. You haven’t seen my wife anywhere, have you? Mary said she’d organize some of the village women into doing some tasks in the church.’
‘I saw Mrs Bryson about two hours ago in the market place.’
‘I see … I do hope she isn’t indulging in mischief.’
‘As to that I wouldn’t know, Reverend. Your wife was in the dressmaker’s establishment when I saw her … do women indulge in mischief there?’
Oliver gave a great booming laugh. ‘I should imagine they plot mischief for someone from time to time. Will you come in and take a glass of wine with me?’
The cart rumbled by and the reverend called out a greeting to the occupants. The old man was no longer with them. It struck Ryder as odd that a monk would be in the district when there was no monastery to house him – at least, not one that he’d heard of.
‘I’d prefer not to. Shall we be straight with each other, Reverend?’ Ryder gazed at the man’s coat. ‘You have a button missing.’
Oliver gazed down at the front of his coat. ‘So I do.’
Taking the button from his waistcoat pocket, Ryder held it out to him. ‘I found it in my copse.’
‘Thank you … they were a gift from my wife. I lost it some time ago when I was tracking a fox that had raided the chicken coop. Is there anything else, my Lord?’
‘I was taking Mrs Pelham home from the market earlier and we were shot at. The ball missed her by a fraction and lodged in the donkey cart.’
He raised an eyebrow, but looked not in the least bit worried. ‘Oh … was the woman injured?’
‘She was not.’ After the space of a heartbeat Ryder added, ‘Neither was I.’
‘It sounds as if you suspect me, my lord?’
‘Your horse is muddy and your gun barrel is warm,’ he pointed out.
‘My rifle is in the sun. Besides … I shot a couple of rabbits earlier.’
‘May I see them?’
‘You may not. A lad came begging. He was hungry and said his mother was sick. I gave the rabbits to him.’
‘Does the lad have a name?’
‘I should imagine so … let me think a while.’
Mary Bryson sauntered from the church. Her cheeks were pink and she was breathing heavily as she took her husband’s arm. ‘I’m sorry I’m late.’
Ryder afforded the woman a nod. ‘Mrs Bryson.’
It was obvious to Ryder that he wasn’t going to get a truthful answer from the reverend. Still he pushed on. ‘Can you think a little faster?’
‘Ben … I think he was called Ben.’
‘There would be several lads called Ben in the district.’
‘So I imagine.’
Ryder gave him a blunt, ‘And I imagine you know them all.’
Bryson’s glance came up to his. ‘Of course I don’t. Have you finished your interrogation of me?’
‘I’m here to advise you to keep your nose out of my affairs. You have neither the authority or the right to condemn Mrs Pelham.’
‘You know the reason … the Pelham name was an embarrassment to both the Lawrence and the Madigan families. The incident will never be forgotten, you know.’
He was probably right, but Ryder wasn’t going to allow him the satisfaction of knowing that. ‘It might be if you allow it to rest.’
‘You never seem to learn from your mistakes. Damn it man, I am your heir and have your welfare at heart. You’d gone off to fight without a word. That was totally irresponsible. You could have died at any time.’
‘I had no intention of dying and I did leave a will.’
‘Giving your private fortune to the Lawrence woman.’
When Mary opened her mouth and snorted, Bryson gave her a warning look. She shut it again.
‘The house, land and title would have gone to you automatically. You may not have a fortune, Reverend, but you are not impoverished by any means and you have a high standing in the district. Eventually you’ll become a bishop. Also, we do not share a family name so why would you have felt shame?’
Bryson exploded. ‘That is what caused most of the trouble. I was quite willing to leave my calling as a missionary and adopt the family name of Madigan, so it would have been clear who was the legatee. By the time I got here the magistrate had ruled in the squire’s favour. It was an insult. I’m your heir, your family. I was trying to protect and nurture you until you became a man.’
‘You seem to bear a lot of resentment towards me, considering I had no say in who brought me up. And that was nothing to do with Adele. Considering your dislike of her, surely you must think Mrs Pelham did me a favour by jilting me.’
‘A pity you went haring off like a dog with its tail on fire, instead of facing up to your loss like a man. That Lawrence girl proved to be as shallow as I told you she’d be.’
‘I’m beginning to believe you wished I had died in India, so the estate would be yours. Surely you have enough money of your own without adding mine to it. I’ve inspected the books. It appears that you took it upon yourself to increase the rents until the less affluent tenants could no longer afford them. Repairs were ignored, though charged and paid for. That is an act of fraud, my friend. When Adele’s father, Squire Lawrence died you contacted his heir to ensure that Ashburn bought the estate off him cheaply, even while knowing his daughter was still alive and might benefit.’
‘She wouldn’t have inherited anything. The squire had disowned her, as his will indicated.’ The man’s cheek mottled. ‘I won’t be taken to task like this, Ryder. You know damned well I was acting on your behalf, as I have always done in your absence. May I remind you that I’m your only blood relation. Your great-great-grandfather and mine suckled from the same teat.’
‘As you constantly remind me.’
There was an aggrieved note in Oliver Bryson’s reply. ‘However thin that blood is I gave up my living and came running when you were orphaned.’
So this was what the angst was all about. ‘I was happy living with the Squire Lawrence’s family. Our fathers were friends. Adele’s father treated me as a son and raised me to be responsible for Adele. I was her protector and friend, and I still am.’
Bryson stared at him, his eyes reflecting his anger. They bothered Ryder not at all. So the reverend had been thwarted in his bid for control of the Madigan estate. That was no reason to place the blame on Adele. It was due to vanity, nothing else.
Gently, he told him, ‘Of late I have reflected how cruel an action it was for Edgar Pelham to remove Adele from the two men who loved her most, and bring about her ruin. The result was that he broke her father’s heart, as well as mine. The more I think on it the more unlikely a liaison between them sounds. Adele had only met Edgar Pelham a couple of times. He was another of your wife’s relatives, was he not? I gave him employment. He repaid that by taking off with my fiancée, a woman he hardly knew. There’s something odd about that, as if it were planned in advance.’
Husband and wife exchanged a glance, and then the reverend shrugged. ‘I thought something about him didn’t quite ring true. He had a bullying manner at times, and a way of looking at you that was quite intimidating.’
Mary Bryson sprang to life. ‘She flirted with him, and got what she deserved.’
‘Do be quiet, Mary. You’ve caused enough trouble.’
‘She was just a girl, Mrs Bryson. Didn’t you flirt at that age?’
There came an emphatic no from Mary and her hands went to her hips. ‘Adele Lawrence was blatantly immodest. She enticed men with her pretty smiles and manners, and deserved what she got if you ask me.’
‘Enough! If you can’t talk sensibly I suggest that you go inside.’
But it seemed that Mary wasn’t going to miss this showdown, and although her face took on a sulky expression she fell quiet.
Ryder said, ‘I can almost guarantee that Adele wouldn’t have left me without a word. The sadness in her eyes tells me that is not the truth. Something else happened. She’s suffered, and I can’t get to the bottom of it.’ He asked abruptly, ‘Did you have a hand in her downfall?’
An aggrieved sigh erupted from Oliver Bryson. ‘Certainly not … this is maudlin rubbish! The woman doesn’t know what loyalty is. Her father disowned her, and if you respected him as much as you say then you must also respect his judgement. Adele Pelham was an empty-headed young woman who was lacking in morals – and probably still is.’
‘Talking about any woman that way does you no credit, Reverend Bryson. She’s done you no harm yet you vilify her name.’
‘And you are a bigger fool now than you were then. Had I been allowed to raise you instead of Squire Lawrence being appointed, you would now have more backbone.’
That was a punch below the belt, and it hurt, but the army had hardened Ryder to a certain extent, and he wasn’t going to back down now. ‘It was my father’s wish that Squire Lawrence take over my care. Equally, had the reverse applied my father would have taken Adele under his wing. Our parents had been friends since childhood.’
‘The pair were two of a kind.’
‘In what way?’
Oliver Bryson closed his mouth in a tight line, as if to keep a piece of information from leaking out. ‘I have nothing more to say to you at this point and refuse to argue any more over that … woman. Good day, my lord.’
‘It’s a pity Edgar Pelham isn’t still alive so I could shake the answer out of him. But I’ll get to the bottom of it, and if anything happens to Mrs Pelham before I do I’ll raise Cain to find out the culprit, for I will not have the Madigan estate embroiled in a vendetta.’
‘How dramatic and noble of you,’ the churchman sneered. ‘Edgar Pelham is now at the bottom of the sea and you offer sustenance to his fancy woman and his daughter under your roof. How very ironic.’
‘My protection applies to Miss Pelham, too. The girl was an innocent bystander and I won’t have either of them pressured.’
‘You’re being duped. The woman senses your feelings and is acting on them. She probably staged the whole thing to win your sympathy, but then, you never could see beyond the end of your nose where she’s concerned. Perhaps you should ask her what happened to the infant she was carrying when you left here … and before you ask me, their former maid, Bridget, told Mary. A little weight on the waist, food fancies, and sickness in the morning, all the signs of impending motherhood, I’m given to understand.’
Not by one flicker of an eyelash did Ryder give away the shock he felt, though his jaw clenched and his fingers curled into fists.
Adele had been carrying an infant? Thoughts buzzed in his head like marauding wasps. His first thought, who had fathered the child?
He had!
His second thought arrived – and the one he’d rather believe in since it absolved him of responsibility. Perhaps it was just gossip.
He shrugged. ‘Such symptoms could be caused by gripe, surely.’
‘Oh, there was another sign … the absence of womanly inconveniences.’
Womanly inconveniences! He drew on his limited knowledge of the monthly event, gleaned mostly from talk around the campfires. When they weren’t discussing strategy or gambling, the soldiers usually discussed the whys and wherefores of women, from mothers to lovers. He remembered someone giving a chuckle and saying, ‘My wife gets it the wrong way round when I’m home. It’s a convenient excuse for the woman and a damned inconvenient one for the man.’
‘That Pelham girl is a sly little puss. Engage someone to interrogate her. The retired magistrate, Henr
y Flemming, will soon get down to the truth of it.’
‘There seems to be a shortage of truth hereabouts.’
‘Not if another man had fathered it.’
The possessiveness Ryder had felt towards the child vanished, replaced by caution. He wanted to hit Oliver Bryson for besmirching Adele’s name on the say so of a maid. He had a good mind to hunt down the maid called Bridget, who he remembered as being tall, thin and pious, and interview her himself. But perhaps not, because Adele would tell him when the time was right. He was sure of it.
A baby! Was it his infant?
‘There is altogether too much tale-tattling. My own death was wrongly reported.’
‘Ah yes … the snake and the hermit’s cave in India. It may interest you to know I held a memorial service to speed your soul on its journey. Come, come, my lord, most likely the event was a fabricated tale. Maidservants, especially unmarried Irish ones, have overactive imaginations and loose tongues.’
‘On the contrary. My own demise was reported in an army journal. They apologized … just a couple of lines in an obscure corner. How did you discover the manner in which I expired?’
‘Stephen Tessler told me.’
‘Was that when you decided to take over my affairs and have me declared dead?’
‘We put the wheels in motion then, yes. Stephen wanted to wait, though personally I wanted to get the legalities over and done with. He was uncomfortable with the notion that he was solely responsible for your fortune and decisions regarding it. I was able to get myself appointed as a joint trustee. I understand from Stephen that you’d prefer not to share a financial adviser.’
‘I hope he has recommended another as able as he.’
‘He has.’ Bryson sounded sullen.
‘It’s nothing personal, Reverend, unless you wish to make it so. My estate requires a competent financial adviser, which it has in Stephen, and it needs a good manager. Both need to be efficient and loyal. By the way I’ve just hired your wife’s nephew, Luke Ashburn, for the manager’s position.’