by Janet Woods
She was choking … choking!
Seaweed in her mouth.
Hands clawing at her skirt.
Rough.
Rope tangled.
The tide put up a fight to release her hair. She emerged, her first breath of air uttering a curse.
‘Drown!’
She released her shawl into the currents. Water muted his scream and the light in his eyes dimmed.
‘Drown!’
She opened her hand and Edgar was gone, while she was still held fast by her hair. A hand pulled her head back exposing her throat, a knife flashed silver. He was going to cut her throat, but it didn’t matter. She was already dead.
‘Breathe.’
There was no strength left in her to breathe. She let go … perhaps she’d reunite with Ryder and their baby son.
‘Dammit, woman, I didn’t get my bloody whiskers wet for nothing … you take a breath now!’
Her chest exploded.
But it was not Ryder who was looking down at her when she’d coughed out the ocean and opened her eyes. It was a stranger, grizzled by the winds and rain, salt and pepper in his beard, rough-handed – legs rooted to the deck like a tree in a forest.
Behind him the shadow melted into a doorway.
‘The sea has taken your man.’
Please God, don’t let it be Ryder.
The notion faded when she opened her eyes. Of course it wasn’t Ryder. In her mind he’d already been dead. It was Edgar Pelham she’d killed, and she felt surprisingly calm about it, as if she’d merely liberated herself.
But she couldn’t tell them that. These three women who loved and cared for her, and whose eyes burned with concern for her didn’t deserve to have such a burden placed on their shoulders. It would simply compound her sin.
Adele was tense, her nerves in knots like neglected tapestry silks. It occurred to her that the one hasty word might have killed Ryder’s love for her. His love had been constant, even when he believed she’d betrayed him. He’d said so. Ryder wasn’t shallow and she’d answered his declaration with words of hate. She hadn’t meant it.
‘You’re right, Aunt Patience, I must apologize to the earl. Sarah, perhaps you’d deliver a note to him at Madigan House.’ She sighed, and said, more to herself than anyone else. ‘I should never have returned.’
But she had returned … she’d had no choice but to return. Now she had, so should she stay or should she go?
It would all depend on Ryder.
Thirteen
Ryder’s ears burned as he headed home. His heart was squeezed as tight as a sea sponge – one that had dried to the consistency of stone and been tossed onto the flotsam line above the high-tide mark. He was trying hard to believe Adele hadn’t meant what she’d said.
He felt trapped, and he needed to get away from this closed-in village environment with its expectations and its hypocrisy. He’d planned for his life to be much simpler. He should be able to go about his business, manage his estate, marry well, entertain his friends and in time, teach his sons enough respect to grow into fine young men. All without comment, malicious or otherwise. He might have a daughter as well, a pretty little thing who could twist him and her brothers around her fingers. She would be like her mother.
He allowed Adele back into his imaginings, thinking she’d be upset if he married another woman and carried out the plans he’d once shared with her. Of course she would. They had loved each other once. Still did, as he’d learned to his cost. People would pity her and she would hate that.
He sighed. When had he stopped being the victim and become the hunter? He couldn’t do it to her. A little time apart and he would renew his pursuit. A week or so in London with its theatres and other pleasures should set him up nicely. It would be time enough to hibernate when he returned.
‘Back already, my Lord?’ John said, looking surprised when he walked into the house.
‘I’ve decided to go to London for a few days and I have some business to attend to here before I do.’
‘I’ll air your travelling clothes and pack your greatcoat in case you need it.’
‘You needn’t pack a bag; I’ve got plenty of extra clothing in my London rooms. I’ll be leaving early tomorrow and will be away for a week or so. I’ll take the post from Poole, it’s quicker than the stagecoach.’
‘But not as comfortable.’
‘That’s the price one has to pay for a faster journey.’
‘You’ve not forgotten the social evening, have you, sir?’
‘I certainly have not. Mrs Betts has everything in hand and the staff are experienced in such matters. She has her duties for the next fortnight, and William Swift will be in overall charge, so you can put your feet up and take a few days off. You might like to call in on the Manning sisters from time to time and see if they, or Mrs Pelham, need any help.’
John made a humming sound in his throat.
‘I’ll bring Sergeant Stover back with me, and with plenty of time to spare before the social event. The household should run smoothly until I get back.’
‘As long as nobody else intervenes, my lord … everyone is so looking forward to the social gathering.’
‘Good. Perhaps I shall find myself a wife.’
‘But I thought … we all thought …’
‘That I might marry Mrs Pelham?’
‘Yes, my lord, you are so well suited. She’s a delightful young woman and well … you do seem to have forgiven her.’
‘As you say, John. I thought I’d forgiven her too, but I learned just a short time ago that some cuts run too deep to heal quickly, and mine are still raw. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it appears that the lady doesn’t want me now.’
‘I heard differently, so don’t do anything hasty,’ his manservant advised.
Everybody in the district seemed to have an opinion on his feelings towards Adele – whether for or against. Ryder’s eyelids flickered as a small flare of hope shafted through him. His voice took on a half-hearted edge as he remembered how pretty and delicate she’d looked that morning with her hair loose and her green eyes shining. ‘Good Lord, man, for how much longer is my relationship with Mrs Pelham going to be fodder for gossips. I don’t want to hear it.’
‘As you say, my lord, but I imagine you only hear the half of it.’ John’s lips pursed and there was a slightly affronted familiarity about him.
After a while, Ryder sighed, ‘Go on, then. Tell me, John.’
‘It’s said Mrs Pelham was tricked, that Edgar Pelham sent her a note to say you were engaged with another lady on the eve of your wedding. It’s said that Mrs Pelham whispers your name in her sleep.’
That was a good tale, almost believable. He didn’t bother asking who’d filled his personal manservant’s head with such a romantic notion. The wide-eyed Sarah Pelham was the chief suspect. She was the only one who had access to Del’s bedchamber at night. But she’d also had access to her father’s actions in the past.
Sarah had become a favourite with his staff. She was part of his household for half the day, and his pert little lady clerk was often seen poised busily over an account book or a sheet of paper, relieving him of the tedious job of making copies of letters, documents and accounts that he needed to keep for his files. He didn’t know how he’d manage the estate without her, and supposed a Prince Charming would one day come along and run off with her, for she’d make some man a fine wife.
Ryder laughed. ‘Do I respond?’
‘Now and again, my lord, I can vouch for that.’
Something said with too much relish for Ryder’s liking, so he snorted. ‘If I were you I’d put that notion from your mind.’
‘Mrs Pelham is a lovely woman who is bound to attract the attention and the praise of men. Forgive me for being familiar, sir, but I’ve always thought you were well suited.’
But the women would be wary of her, he thought. Even if she married him she would not become respectable overnight and they would guard their husbands
, lest she ran off with them. Ah yes … Adele would always have a hint of scandal about her now, and she deserved it. But then, so would he. Their lives would be carried out in the public gaze and commented on accordingly.
Ryder was attacked by a vision of them calling to each other across the woodland separating Madigan House from the village, like a duet in an opera. It was an amusing notion. ‘Stuff and nonsense, John. You’ll have me singing a romantic ditty under her window next.’
John grinned. ‘I’m sure she’d enjoy it. The pair of you were always good friends in childhood I understand, and later, in the years when you were growing into a man … you couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other when you were together. You spoke of her often when you were apart. It was quite touching.’
Ryder caught the grin and chuckled. ‘I do believe you’re pulling my strings. If you dare tell anyone of anything you’ve just said to me, I’ll cut your wagging tongue off.’ He turned when he reached the door. ‘If you hear anything else of interest you must let me know.’
‘Of course, my lord.’
‘I’m off to Poole, where I’ve got business to conduct. Tell the coachman he’s not needed, it will keep you out of mischief.’ That reminded him to visit the Reverend Bryson on the way, and make his peace with him. After that he’d go and see this James Pelham, who had delivered the missing trunks.
He summoned Luke Ashburn into the library. ‘I’ll be absent for a week or so. William Swift will be in charge of the household.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
The man had a face as long as a wet weekend. ‘Is something bothering you, Mr Ashburn?’
‘The reverend asked me to talk to you, but it goes against the grain now I’ve grown to know you better.’
‘Tell me what it’s about?’
‘He wishes to retain his position in the parish.’
‘Oh, is that all. I was about to pay him a visit.’
‘Were it me I’d have him dismissed.’
Ashburn’s cold-blooded remark astounded him. ‘You seem to have very little compassion towards others.’
‘It depends on the circumstances. His troubles are of his own making.’
Curiosity filled him. ‘Where did you grow up? Certainly not in the immediate vicinity, since I’d never heard Mary Bryson mention you.’
‘I was raised in a charity school in London. Run by priests, it taught orphaned boys of the clergy. They were strict, and the students were destined to serve the Church. I ran away several times, received a severe birching and then ran away again. I was brought back with the same result, and the addition of a bread and water diet for a week. I must say they were diligent in their duty for I finally learned some sense.’
So that’s where Ashburn had gained his air of defiant independence. ‘Before that?’
Ashburn gave a twisted grin. ‘I can’t remember before that, my lord, and neither do I want to. Can you?’
The log on the fire exploded, sending out a shower of sparks.
Ryder gave a short laugh. ‘I suppose not. Is that a polite way of telling me to mind my own business?’
‘No, my lord … it’s just a fact. I saw the value of having an education all around me. I also observed the plight of the poor and the comparative comfort of the wealthy.’
‘And the Church?’
‘The Church does its best but I proved to be an unsuitable candidate for the priesthood. When the reverend turned up claiming me as his wife’s nephew it was a relief at first. It gave me a chance to get something back for the years of misery I endured.’
‘And then?’
‘He was overbearing rather than welcoming. Mary kept reminding me I was a charity case.’
‘Notwithstanding that the reverend paid for your education and board, are you Mary’s long-lost nephew? I fancy there is a familiarity in your features and those of the reverend.’
Ashburn’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re astute, I’ll give you that. For a long time I kept asking myself the same question.’
‘What was the answer to it?’
‘I’m more likely to be his son.’
Astounded by the thought Ryder said, ‘You’re claiming to be Oliver Bryson’s bastard?’
This time Ashburn’s grin widened. ‘Nothing so base. He fell in love with a young woman barely out of the nursery. They ran away to Scotland together and were wed by the anvil priest Robert Elliot.’
‘Witnesses?’
‘Two, as required.’
‘And you were the result of the marriage?’
‘Rather, I was the cause. To fend off the scandal, the reverend and his new wife were packed off to do missionary work abroad. My mother, Jane Ashburn, died birthing me barely five months into the marriage. I was sent back to England with a wet nurse, where I was placed in an institution. By this time the bishop had met his maker and nobody knew about me except the reverend. He paid for my upkeep. Shortly after, he married Mrs Bryson, who’d been widowed.’
‘How did you get the information?’
‘The Church keeps meticulous records and I was good at picking locks. In fact, I considered taking up crime as a profession until I decided that making money honestly was just as easy and less worrisome. I don’t want to spend my life looking over my shoulder.’
Ryder thought, if that was the truth, it would explain what was going on. If his own reported death had proved to be true, then Oliver Bryson would have inherited the title of earl. In line after him would be Luke Ashburn.
Ashburn gave a low chuckle. ‘I can see you’ve reached the probable outcome.’
‘I have, and it perturbs me, not the possibility of us being cousins but the means being employed to inherit my title. You know as well as I that some random shooting has taken place, and that makes me uneasy in case there was a sinister purpose behind it.’
‘I’m almost certain the reverend was not part of that. He finds it hard to kill a rabbit or neck a chicken for his dinner … his wife usually attends to that task.’
‘Does she wear a brown robe with a cowl attached on occasion?’
Ashburn’s eyes shifted slightly. ‘Good Lord, I’ve never inspected the contents of her wardrobe, but I have seen one hanging in the vestry. When I asked the reverend for the truth about our relationship, he held the earldom up as a prize in an effort to make me bow to his wishes. What he cannot understand is that I don’t give a damn about anything I haven’t earned.’
Ryder nodded. Luke Ashburn was a lone wolf who wouldn’t be swayed by position. ‘Nevertheless, if you prove to be an heir to the title and the need arises I will expect you to give a damn when the time comes, and accept the title with good grace.’
‘If that time happens to come, you will no longer be around to enforce your expectations.’
‘True.’
‘I doubt if it will become necessary but remember how your father died and take care. I’ll keep an ear to the ground while you’re away. The reverend wants to acknowledge me as his son, since he has no heir.’
‘And?’
‘Mary Bryson thinks it will make a fool out of her since they’ve already passed me off as her nephew. She is demanding, and unpredictable when her temper is roused, which makes life exceedingly uncomfortable. She seems to be unstable at times. Sometimes she’s so agitated she never stops talking and at other times … well, let me just say that inheriting relatives at short notice can be a liability, especially when obligated.’
‘What do you intend to do in the long run?’
‘When I’ve paid off my loan to the reverend I intend to sell the Lawrence estate at a profit and leave the district. Pardon me, my lord, but you do understand that the price must include recompense for the Duck Pond acreage. We must sort that matter out soon because a lengthy delay could cost me more than I stand to gain. I have allowed myself eighteen months, by which time the sale of the corn crops followed by those of the estate should see me straight.’
‘Weather permitting.’
‘As you
say, my lord. Rest assured, I will not leave the district while I’m responsible for a debt to anyone, for if nothing else I was raised to be honest. I do agree that Mrs Pelham seems to have an equal claim to the cottage and the land it stands on. I’ll make no attempt to evict them while the problem exists, but if I am declared the legal owner then I will expect them to pay rent.’
The man rose a mile in Ryder’s estimation. He was a good businessman. ‘You won’t have to worry about that. I’ll offer you a proposition, Mr Ashburn. I’ll buy the Lawrence estate from you, and will offer fair compensation for the perceived loss of the Duck Pond property, though I don’t think you have any real entitlement to it.’
Ashburn’s eyes widened. ‘This offer is entirely unexpected. I will need to think about it. It was not part of my plan.’
‘Plans can be changed. Mrs Pelham has the original deeds and her grandmother’s will on her side. Sometimes life has its own plan to follow.’
‘It certainly does. I shouldn’t take too much time deciding, in case I begin to think the better of launching a face-saving solution. Such a proposition would help further my aims considerably, though I’m not entirely happy at being given an ultimatum. Will my terms of employment still stand?’
‘As long as you remain competent … you specified a contract for two years, did you not? Why two years. I’m curious?’
‘It will take that long before your land produces a decent corn crop, though I’ve made a good start with the ploughing, and the earth should be ready to seed come winter. Buying enough seed is a problem because your land has been neglected. I have recently made a contact with a merchant who has offered us a decent amount of superior seed, at a price.
‘I could ride that out and I could also hire someone else to do it. What’s the real reason?’
‘I stand to lose what I’ve gained if I’m unemployed, since there is very little in the way of employment at this time of year.’ A flush crept into Ashburn’s cheeks. ‘Also, by that time Miss Pelham will be old enough to wed and I’ll be in a better position to support her.’