Close to the Wind

by Zana Bell

  But Harry was interested only in the immediate situation. ‘So why did Iver tell me to seek Walsingham here? How does he fit in?’

  ‘Margaret married Lord Walsingham, some fifteen years ago. He is our neighbour’s business partner, you see. And though Margaret has never told Phillip about you, she did confide in her husband. I must warn you now, he is not happy about it.’

  Harry’s eyebrows knitted. ‘What the devil has it to do with him?’

  ‘He is, ah, somewhat possessive shall we say, of the manor. I believe he feels its size suits his consequence well. The family returned here after my husband’s death. Phillip is the earl, though, in accordance with family tradition, he will only gain full control of the estates when he turns twenty-six. In the meantime, Lord Walsingham has been managing our affairs very well, but I have to say that he’s—’

  But whatever she was going to say was lost as the door opened to admit a rotund man in a fine silk waistcoat that strained at the buttons. When his round eyes fell on Harry they sharpened as he smiled. His snipped words, however, belied his genial manner.

  ‘Ah, the bastard’s return.’

  Harry drew himself up and made a formal little bow. ‘I am no bastard, sir, but the lawful son of Henry.’

  ‘That cannot be,’ Lord Walsingham replied, his smile not faltering. ‘My wife was married to her first husband lawfully and in the sight of God.’

  ‘Nevertheless, he was married to my mother first. The second marriage was nothing but a sham.’

  Lord Walsingham’s eyes travelled up from Harry’s battered boots, to his faded trousers and shabby waistcoat and jacket.

  ‘Forgive me if I do not immediately accept the word of a captain of uncertain means as he attempts what might well be construed as fraud and imposture on a rather grand scale.’

  With those words he seated himself, crossing one plump thigh over the other, leaving Harry to stand as though a servant in the presence of his master. His gaze never left Harry’s face.

  ‘I understand your reticence to accept the facts,’ said Harry, maintaining his own icy civility. ‘Perhaps this might enlighten you,’ and he passed over the letter.

  The silence stretched taut save for the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece as Walsingham perused the letter. His face betrayed no emotion but Harry saw how the man’s eyes flickered to the top of the page once he had finished reading the note. His lips stretched into a smile and he shrugged.

  ‘This is nothing. There are no dates, no names even. It will never stand up in a court of law.’

  Until this moment, strange as it later seemed to Harry, the enormity of what he’d learned had not yet dawned upon him.

  ‘I’m the rightful heir,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m the earl. All this,’ and he waved at the walls, his ancestors in their frames, the lands beyond the window, ‘all this is mine.’

  ‘But it is also my home,’ his grandmother cried out. ‘Phillip’s home. You cannot take it all away from him.’

  Harry whirled on her, though he managed to keep his voice soft as he spoke through his teeth. ‘It should also have been my mother’s.’ He locked eyes with his grandmother. ‘You cheated her of her right and lawful place. You will never, never fully appreciate the appalling repercussions of your actions. If you only knew of the life you condemned her to because of your damnable pride and greed.’ He made a gesture of contempt. ‘I am ashamed to have the blood of this family in my veins.’

  Walsingham rose now and crossed to the bell pull. All pretence at affability had vanished and Harry found himself looking into a face of implacable antagonism.

  ‘If you do not leave now, I will have you tossed out as the pretender you are. You can spout your wild stories but all people will see is a bastard.’

  Harry strode across the room and, despite his seeming complacency, Walsingham retreated a pace. ‘I will not be evicted from my own home. I leave of my own accord but,’ and here Harry allowed all the pent up rage to show in his voice, though he continued to speak softly, ‘make no mistake. When I next come through those doors, it will be as lord and master.’

  ‘A hollow threat,’ jeered Walsingham, but his words choked in his throat as Harry grabbed his neckcloth, twisting it and using it to draw the older man close so they were nose to nose.

  ‘You played no part in the original deception so I will not hurt you at this moment. However, if you try to stand in my way when I claim what is rightfully mine, it will be a very grave mistake. Do I make myself understood?’

  Walsingham’s eyes bulged as his face turned from red to purple, but hatred burned in their depths. He nodded and Harry released his throttling hold. Then he turned on his grandmother who had risen but had remained silent through this exchange.

  ‘It is a wonder that you can sleep at all. If you knew of the life that you forced my mother to lead—’ but here the words caught in his throat. Harry picked up the letter and brandished it. ‘There may be no evidence, but in this room we all know the truth. God help you if I should ever find proof. I will take this house and its lands and turn you all out as you turned my mother out.’

  Footsteps sounded outside and the door opened. Harry bowed. ‘Lady Elrington, my time with you has been most edifying. I believe I can find my own way out.’

  He swept past the footman without another glance at either his grandmother or Walsingham.

  Outside in the driveway, he found his mouth was dry and his hands shaking. To have threatened a woman, his grandmother no less, was appalling. He longed for a man to fight, a storm to battle – if only Walsingham had taken a swing at him. There was no outlet, no relief for his feelings. But as he reached the gates, a page came panting after him and thrust a note into his hand.

  ‘M’lady wanted you to have this.’

  It was brief.

  Walsingham is a dangerous enemy so watch your back. He will do everything in his power to protect his control of this estate. Malcolm Sedgewick was your father’s most trusted valet. He may have the marriage certificate, for I never found it. Last heard, he was in Christchurch, New Zealand. I have done terrible damage to you all. Perhaps the truth can make amends.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Georgiana was stiff and groggy when Harry shook her awake at dawn. They couldn’t have had more than a few hours sleep, but as soon as she remembered that Tom might even now be escaping his bonds, she threw off her exhaustion. The mug of tea Harry pressed into her hands helped revive her.

  She felt strangely shy, sitting there with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, beside the glowing embers of the fire Harry had resurrected. The air was cold but the tea warmed her fingers through the thin metal of the pannikin. Just like the night before, the tea was black, strong and sweet, and she alternately blew upon it and sipped as she looked about her. The sky was very gradually lightening, dark shapes individuating into trees and bushes. The smoke from the fire rose in a thin blue ribbon, carrying with it the scent of ash. High above a skylark swooped, its tumbling song very pure in the clear morning air. Downstream, a hawk floated in lazy ellipses. What was it hunting? Mice? Rabbits? Did they have such animals in New Zealand? How strange to know so very little of the world that now surrounded her.

  The scrape of spoon against pot drew her attention back to Harry, who was making porridge, and she watched his quick, economical movements. She was so used to thinking of him as a sea captain, it was strange to see how at home he was on land, rumpled and grubby as he was. How infamous but how typical of Harry that he should once again turn her world upside down. Or right it. She wasn’t sure which.

  Was he really an earl? It seemed absurd and yet, at the same time, perfectly believable. He would manage his estates with the same innate, easy air of command as he’d run Sally. Feeling her gaze upon him, he looked up from his pot and smiled. His eyes were a startling blue in the early light – h
is mother’s eyes. No wonder she’d caught Henry’s attention as he roamed the countryside.

  ‘Nearly ready,’ he told her. ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Famished! I realise I didn’t have dinner last night.’

  He laughed. ‘I’ve always liked your honest enjoyment of food, Georgie. Can’t stand women who pick at their plates. Enjoy food, enjoy life.’

  ‘Even if it’s lumpy porridge,’ she said, inspecting the plate he passed to her.

  ‘The lumps’ll give you sustenance for our long ride. Eat up.’ He ate straight from the pot and Georgiana thought how they needed to buy a second plate, a second pannikin. Then she remembered. ‘Oh no! I’ve been such a fool!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tom has my money.’

  ‘What, all of it?’

  ‘Yes, though it wasn’t a huge sum. I gave it to him for safekeeping – it was his idea.’

  ‘I bet it was.’ Harry’s voice was grim.

  Georgiana drew a circle with her spoon in her porridge and tried not to sound defensive. ‘At the time his reasons seemed sound enough. He’d heard there were many desperate sorts here who’d lost all their money on the goldfields and who’d have no compunction in robbing a woman alone.’

  ‘It also ensured that you wouldn’t be able to leave him either, once you were tied by the purse strings.’

  ‘Do you really believe that was his motive?’

  ‘Do you doubt it?’ Harry gave a cynical laugh. ‘He’s a plausible rogue if, even now, knowing him for what he is, you are still willing to make allowances for him, Georgie.’

  ‘Not really. I just hate …’

  ‘Hate?’

  ‘Being such a gullible fool,’ she said in a rush.

  This time Harry’s laugh bore a note of relief. ‘Is that all? Don’t worry. He had us all fooled.’

  ‘Not you.’

  ‘Well, seeing him with your cousin did raise my suspicions, but not to the extent that I’d have ever seen him as a murderer.’

  ‘Julia didn’t like him. She much preferred you.’

  ‘That child,’ said Harry, scraping the bottom of the pot, ‘is possibly the most discerning young person I’ve ever met.’ Then he dropped his teasing tone. ‘If it’s any consolation, I think you tamed the monster to some extent. He did ask you to marry him, after all.’

  ‘For the gold mine!’ Georgiana felt all the bitterness of a woman twice proposed to for mercenary reasons.

  For a second Harry was silent before saying, ‘Though I hate to take Mellors’ side in any way, I do believe that his feelings for you were real enough.’

  ‘Real enough to want to kill me as soon as his true motives were known!’ She put her hand out for the pot, seeing Harry had finished.

  ‘Well,’ Harry’s tone was bracing as he handed it to her, ‘you can’t expect the man to love you more than his own self-interests. The thing is, I’ve precious little money myself having bought my horse and gear.’

  ‘And you spent more money in buying a horse for me.’

  Georgiana was contrite, but Harry smiled as he rose. ‘Best money I’ve ever spent. We’ll worry about that later. For now, we must get moving and keep the distance between ourselves and Mellors. I have to beat him to Sedgewick.’

  Georgiana began washing the utensils in the river while Harry began saddling the horses. The water was freezing. ‘I suppose Tom is planning to buy the marriage certificate from Sedgewick.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt that will be his first move. But if Sedgewick still proves loyal to my father, he might refuse, in which case Tom will probably feel it important to silence him. He’s the only one apart from my grandmother who can testify that the marriage happened.’

  Georgiana hadn’t thought of that. She spoke in a small voice. ‘Do you think Tom will want to kill you, too?’

  Harry flung a saddle onto Georgiana’s horse. ‘At present, I’m still the main suspect in Iver’s murder. We don’t have any proof to the contrary and I can tell you now, I’d be laughed out of court if I tried to give my side of the story. It’s so preposterous, no one would believe it.’

  ‘Surely your grandmother would testify for you.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘I can’t count on it. You forget that Phillip is the only grandson she has ever known.’ Then he paused in tightening the girth strap and looked at Georgiana, his face grave. ‘I hate to say this, Georgie, but not only is Sedgewick in danger for what he knows – you are too. You are in too deep for them to ignore. Tom is an ugly customer and the only way we can best him is by securing that marriage certificate before he does.’

  Georgiana remembered the fingers around her throat, the naked menace in Tom’s soft voice and shivered. ‘In that case, let’s be gone immediately!’

  ‘Right,’ said Harry, jamming a wide-brimmed hat on her head, ‘but not before we hide your hair. Don’t cut it again, will you, Georgie. The hat should do the trick until we get to Dunedin.’

  Well-matched both in horses and horsemanship, they cantered side by side through the soft morning air. Despite the threat of Mellors, Harry relished the sense of freedom he always felt when giving a horse its head. Georgiana had clearly grown up in the saddle and he could tell by the way she leaned forward, urging her ungainly mount on, that she, too, was enjoying herself. The flat plains stretched wide and empty around them; the stunning flank of the far Southern Alps reaching down their western side. It was a glorious country and Georgiana must have been having similar thoughts, for when they reined in and dropped to a walk she said, ‘Isn’t New Zealand splendid?’

  ‘It is.’ Harry couldn’t help smiling at her. She was flushed, her hair in wild tendrils, her eyes shining. She grew more and more lovely daily, dammit.

  While she’d slept last night, he had lain awake for some time. His complicated life had just become a whole lot more difficult. It wasn’t that he regretted having Georgie back as his responsibility. He was devilish glad. Too glad, and he recalled the almost murderous pleasure he’d felt in smashing his fist into Mellors. But what the hell did he think he was doing?

  He was a man with a mission, a man who had to clear his name of murder and possibly claim an inheritance of staggering proportions. Was he being wise to take Georgiana with him? While he couldn’t go to the police, she could and they would in all likelihood protect her from Tom and help her get to her brother safely. After all, he had absolutely no time for distractions and Georgie was, without doubt, one of the biggest distractions of his life. As he’d made very clear to her, there was no place for a woman in his life, and over the years he had perfected the art of extricating himself from liaisons when they became too complicated. This time, however, instead of letting Georgie go, he’d fought like a tiger to get her back.

  The problem was, he didn’t trust her safety with anyone but himself and was unable to rid himself of the deep-down conviction that somehow she was his. She wasn’t, of course – but she could be. He’d seen it in her eyes. Yet there was not a damned thing he could do about it. For the first time since they’d met, she finally trusted him and was depending on him to help her find Charlie, to protect her from Mellors. How could he betray that trust which he’d sought for so long?

  The future held far too many variables, the odds heavily stacked against him. In the past Harry had never cared, had played games out with all the recklessness of a man who had nothing to lose. But now it was different. The risks were not only for himself, and Georgiana had already lost far too much in her short life. Her feelings for him at present were nothing more than a green girl’s infatuation. Harry had to make damned sure they didn’t blossom into anything more.

  She tipped her hat back now and asked, ‘Which place have you liked best in all your travels?’ That set the conversation rolling about the different countries he’d been to, the adventures he’d had, while Georgi
na had sat sewing samplers in her aunt’s house.

  ‘How much I envy you!’ she sighed.

  ‘There were many tedious hours too,’ he told her. ‘And the worst times were when there wasn’t any work at all and the worry of where the next meal would come from.’

  ‘I could cope with that, I think,’ said Georgiana. ‘It was knowing the next meal would be at exactly eight in the evening or eight in the morning that I hated. Every day was the mirror of the one before and the one to follow.’

  Harry swatted away a fly. He’d never given much thought to the leisured lives of ladies before. ‘That does sound pretty awful.’

  ‘You have no idea! Sometimes I longed to shriek or throw plates or make a scene just to shatter that mirror.’

  ‘So that’s why you took to slipping out to act?’

  ‘Exactly. I only felt I could breathe as I galloped away.’ She laughed self-consciously. ‘That sounds absurdly melodramatic, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes – but understandable, too,’ he said. ‘After your unusual childhood, it was mad to think you could settle to the routines of an ordinary young girl.’ He glanced at her. ‘What on earth possessed you to become engaged to your cousin if you hated that way of life so much?’

  Georgiana paused, then said in a quiet voice, ‘Desperation. Marriage would have bought me some independence at least, and I hoped that he’d take me to Shanghai. If nothing else, we’d have gone to London often. We would have done something. My alternative was staying with my aunt and growing old as I looked after her.’

  ‘You might have met some other young man.’

  Georgiana snorted. ‘Have you seen the young men at country balls? They are all pink-faced and sweaty-handed with shyness.’

  ‘Ugh, what an unattractive picture.’