by Anne Stuart
"You haven't a chance," the general said amiably, leaning back against the parapet and looking perfectly at home. "How long do you intend to keep me here, Henry? It's a trifle chilly."
"Until Fraser sends a detail of my men up," he replied. "And I believe I hear them now."
Indeed, a great deal of noise was coming rapidly closer up the stairs. It was with surprise not unmixed with amusement that Elizabeth recognized Adolphus's portly, red-faced figure stagger onto the parapet, huffing and puffing more loudly than an entire regiment.
"That's the . . . most . . . ghastly . . . climb," he wheezed, his eyes watering. "Must have . . . something . . . done about . . . those . . . steps. Haven't been . . . up here . . . in . . . years." He blinked at the odd tableau, took two long, shuddering gasps, and forced himself to breathe with a semblance of normality. "I say, Sir Henry, what's going on here? Why have you got a gun pointed at m'uncle? And did I pass my cousin Jeremy on the way up here? I thought he was in France."
"Yes, that was Jeremy Traherne," Sir Henry explained patiently. "He's been in the country for several weeks now on a special assignment for me, an assignment that has concerned General Wingert. I am afraid your uncle stands accused of a very serious crime, Sir Adolphus. He's been caught red-handed in treasonous activities."
"My uncle?" he echoed fretfully, yet Elizabeth had the distinct impression that it came as no surprise at all to him. "This won't do at all, Sir Henry. If I had known it was my uncle you had your eye on, I would never have invited you to Winfields. Dash it, it's just not done. You don't accept a fellow's hospitality and then up and arrest his uncle. What will my mother say?" Apparently this last thought was the most devastating, for his red face turned purple in dismay.
"We'll do our utmost to spare Lady Elfreda any undue unpleasantness," Sir Henry said in a soothing voice.
"No way you can do that," Adolphus pointed out with great reasonableness. "Best thing is to let the old fellow go. I'm certain he'll promise never to do it again, won't you, Uncle?"
"Adolphus, sometimes your foolishness astounds even me," said the general in pained tones.
"I'm afraid that's out of the question, Sir Adolphus. The general will have to stand trial."
"And I will most certainly be acquitted."
"Possibly," Sir Henry allowed. "But not if I have anything to say about it."
Adolphus's florid moon face took on a contemplative expression. "I wonder, Sir Henry, if I might be allowed a few words with my uncle in private? After all, it is the honor of the entire Wingert family that's involved here. I may be able to persuade the old gentleman to be more reasonable."
"You'd be wasting your breath," the general told him flatly. "I intend to deny everything."
Sir Henry looked up from the short, squat figure of the general to his nephew's larger one, clad in puce satin and adorned with ruby fobs and rings. "I suppose there'd be no harm in it," he said slowly. "There's no way he can escape except past me, and I don't intend to allow that. Come with me, Miss Traherne. I'm certain you'd like some respite from this company."
To Elizabeth's surprise, she found that her hand was trembling as she placed it on Sir Henry's comforting arm. With an uncomfortable backward glance at the short, evil form of the traitorous general, she accompanied Sir Henry through the door and down the first flight of winding stairs.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Sir Henry said frankly. "Though no doubt you brought it on yourself. We've all warned you to keep out of it. Young Jeremy has been livid. First you interfere with young Fraser's rendezvous with him, you entice Simpkin into revealing classified information, you snoop and pry and nearly get yourself murdered." Sir Henry shook his head reprovingly.
"But why didn't you tell me?" Elizabeth demanded. "Why didn't Jeremy let us know he was home and safe?"
"Women can't keep secrets," Sir Henry said flatly, never knowing how close to death he had come at that moment. Elizabeth controlled the strong urge to push him down the stairs with great effort.
"Did you tell Sumner?" She managed to keep her voice level.
"Jeremy said he'd be even more indiscreet than you," Sir Henry said tactlessly. "You should understand, Miss Traherne, that your brother Jeremy is one of my three best agents, St. Ives and Fraser being the other two. He's been in charge of the French end of this whole nasty affair, and he finally smuggled himself back into the country two weeks ago to oversee the conclusion. He could hardly spare the time for family visits. I could only hope it would be a more satisfactory ending. I'm afraid Wingert is correct in his supposition. The charges won't stick if we don't find the papers. This may all have been for nothing."
"But Jeremy—"
"You may ask him all the questions you want once he ' gets back from London," Sir Henry said benevolently. "He'll be going straight there to make his report, but then he'll be mustered out and sent home, I should think. He's served above and beyond the call of duty."
"Thank God," she breathed, her eyes bright with joy. "And he'll stay home?"
"I wouldn't guarantee that," Sir Henry replied temporizing. "He was quite taken with a young lady in London, and there's been talk of a match between the two of them. The lady happens to be my daughter," he added sheepishly, and allowed himself to be enveloped in a jubilant embrace. "Not that he won't give his father-in-law a severe dressing down for allowing his sister to get involved in such dangerous activities."
"Oh, he won't blame you," she said confidently. "He knows me too well to think anyone could keep me in line."
"Well, I only hope you've learned your— What in the name of all that's holy was that?"
Elizabeth's normally ruddy color had paled. "It sounded somewhat like a . . . a scream, sir."
"But where did it come from?"
"Directly outside the wall here," she choked out.
At that moment Adolphus's portly figure appeared at the top of the stairs, an affable expression on his round face as he minced toward them. "I'm afraid my uncle was overcome with guilt."
"I beg your pardon?" Sir Henry gasped.
"I pointed out how grievously wrong he'd been in pursuing his recent course, and he decided that the gentlemanly thing to do was to put an end to it."
"An end?"
"Over the parapet," Adolphus elaborated cheerfully. "A tragedy, of course, but really quite a neat solution to all our problems, don't you think?"
"I didn't know suicides screamed when they jumped," Elizabeth said slowly, and Adolphus favored her with a benign smile while picking an imaginary speck of lint from his puce overcoat with ominously scratched hands.
"I am certain that in the normal run of things they don't," he told her. "However, Uncle was, despite everything, a Wingeft, and they can be expected to do the unexpected. I can only hope," he continued without any real feeling, "that he didn't land on Captain Fraser. That would be rather a case of killing two birds with one general, don't you think3" With a light laugh he sauntered past the two horror-struck listeners.
"Michael," Elizabeth gasped.
"Don't worry, Miss Traherne," Sir Henry said in a distracted tone. "Fraser's dodged French bullets and swords for the past seven years without much more than a scratch; I doubt one small general would be more difficult to avoid."
"Did Adolphus really . . ." The words failed her, and Sir Henry nodded slowly.
"There seems to be little doubt that he actually did. Just as I've always suspected he saw to LeBoeuf himself. The Wingerts are an odd bunch when it comes right down to it. I suppose I should go apprise my men of the situation. The men won't like it."
"I expect they already know." Adolphus's light voice floated up toward them from further down the winding stairs. "I'll be with m'mother. Have to break the news to her about poor old Uncle. She'll be distraught." The voice faded in the distance.
The two of them went down the dangerous, winding stairs a great deal more slowly than their affable host, holding on to each other for a small kind of creature comfort. The contessa met them
at the bottom of the stairs, a question in her dark eyes.
"It's over, Lonnie," Sir Henry said heavily. "Sir Maurice jumped from the parapet."
"That's not what Michael said," the contessa observed. "He saw two figures struggling up there while he was looking for the papers. Someone threw him over. Was it you, sir?"
"Don't be idiotic!" snapped Sir Henry, his usually even temper finally succumbing to the stress of the evening.
"I'm afraid it was Dolph," Elizabeth said in hushed tones.
"Sir Adolphus?" the contessa echoed. "Well, I'm impressed. I wouldn't have thought Adolphus was that much of a man."
"Contessa!" Elizabeth shrieked. "He murdered his uncle for nothing more than family pride."
"Well, it does tidy things up nicely," she pointed out callously, and Elizabeth shuddered.
"Did they find the papers?" Sir Henry interrupted them.
"Oh, yes. Rupert told me to tell you he has them safe.
He and Michael are overseeing the removal of the body right now. Quite messy, I'm afraid. You'll want to avoid the east courtyard, Miss Traherne."
"I would like nothing more than to avoid everything and everybody in this wretched place," she said crossly, and then, with an uncharacteristic display of emotion, promptly burst into tears. A moment later she found herself enveloped in the contessa's perfumed arms. She allowed herself to be led down the hallway to the dubious haven of her room, with the soft voice murmuring soothing sounds all the while. With deft hands her comforter helped her undress, wash her scrapes and bruises, and climb wearily and weepily into the big soft bed.
"I'll tell everyone that you don't wish to be bothered. I don't wonder that it's been a shock to you, and that fool must have run off without even stopping to see how you were," she observed, having missed nothing of Elizabeth's varied and tearful complaints and immediately fastening on the most offensive of the lot. "But you know how men are, my dear. They never think."
"But that's just the trouble," Elizabeth wailed. "I don't know how men are."
"Well, take it from an expert. They're all rag-mannered and idiotic and not worth half the trouble they cause. And that includes Michael Fraser. You'll be well rid of him." This last she offered in the way of an experiment and was well satisfied with Elizabeth's reaction.
Elizabeth's response was to bury her head in her pillow, howling with misery. The contessa placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Elizabeth. Everything will be just fine in the end. I realize you feel wretched right now, but by tomorrow morning you'll feel more the thing. Trust me."
"The only thing that will make me feel better," came the damp, muffled reply, "is Michael Fraser's head on a platter."
Reassured as to the fondness of Elizabeth's feelings, the contessa took her departure, making her way directly to Fraser's side with a great deal of interesting advice. Elizabeth fell into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.
Monday
Chapter 18
Elizabeth awoke late the next morning full of aches, crotch- ets, and a great sense of ill usage. The sight of her reflection did nothing at all to dispel her mood of gloom. Across one cheekbone was a bruise of a startling purple hue, which had doubtless come when she'd collapsed so gracelessly on the stone parapet. The back of her head still ached from the blow of her unknown assailant, and her stomach rumbled with hunger. It was already past nine, and she hadn't eaten since the noon meal the day before.
With any luck, she told herself crossly as she dressed with hasty movements, Michael Fraser would be long gone with the morning light, and she wouldn't have to see the wretched creature ever again. And Jeremy was back! That one brief look was scarcely enough. Michael Fraser would be easy enough to ignore if Jeremy was still there. At least some good had come of all this.
As for the rest of this miserable houseparty, the sooner she was gone from this ghastly place, the better. She wasted an extra ten minutes making her thick chestnut hair fall in its most attractive arrangement, disdained to powder her magnificent bruise, and made her way downstairs to the smaller library at the front of the house. With a great deal of presence she seated herself at a card table, summoned a servant, and requested that coffee and cinnamon buns be brought to her in her hideaway. The parlor maid, somewhat used to the oddness of the house and its inhabitants by this time, hastily did her bidding without more than one or two curious glances and then hastened to inform the master of the house and his breakfast guests where the final member of the houseparty was to be found.
She was well into her second game of patience when Sumner and a glowing Brenna appeared in the doorway. "Wish us happy, Elizabeth," Sumner ordered in mellow tones. "Brenna has condescended to make me the happiest man in the world."
"Well, if she has already done so, I fail to see why you need my wishes," Elizabeth observed irritably, "it's her that will be needing all the help, having to put up with the likes of you."
"Sumner is the best of all men," Brenna said in misty tones, convincing Elizabeth for once and all that love must surely be blind.
"Well, I am delighted. This has been far too long in coming," she said, struggling to say all the proper things despite her own black humor. "Have you set a date for the wedding?"
"As soon as Jeremy returns, we shall. This dreadful business with Sir Maurice has overset everyone, and we felt it would be ill-mannered of us at the moment," Brenna said smoothly, before Sumner could reply.
"Where has Jeremy gone off to?" Elizabeth demanded, news of his defection setting the seal on her foul temper. "I barely had a chance to see him last night."
"And he's not very pleased with you, I must say,"
Sumner pontificated. "You'd best expect a rare dressing down once he returns."
"Returns from where?" she questioned, keeping a tight leash on her temper.
"London. He and Rupert took off at first light. Sir Henry's orders, I gather."
"How nice," Elizabeth said listlessly, refusing to ask the question that most exercised her mind. "I'm very glad he's safely back and very happy for the two of you." She rose from her seat and embraced the Irish girl with unfeigned enthusiasm. "Welcome to the family, Brenna. I know Jeremy will feel the same."
"Thank you, Elizabeth," Brenna replied smoothly. "And I want you to know that you will always be a welcome guest in our home."
Elizabeth looked startled for a moment, then smiled, silently applauding her future sister-in-law's adroitness. "I'm sure you'll see to that," she responded, with only a trace of mischief.
"We're going down to the manse so that Brenna can have a look at her new house. She'll want to make changes, spruce the old place up a bit, make it more habitable," Sumner continued, with a fond look at his chosen one.
Elizabeth, who previously had considered the manse to be more than presentable, bit her tongue. "We're taking the trap. You don't mind waiting until I bring Brenna back? The trap's rather crowded with three people."
Elizabeth minded a great deal. "Perhaps Lady Elfreda will lend me a carriage?" she suggested, not putting any reliance on the notion.
"Her ladyship's gone into seclusion. Perfectly natural, of course. She's sustained a double shock, losing her brother-in-law like that and then losing Brenna," Sumner said solemnly. "I wouldn't bother her with trivialities at a time like this, Elizabeth. It surely is not too great an importunity to ask you to allow my affianced and myself a few hours of privacy."
"No, of course not," she said with a sigh.
"That reminds me, Elizabeth," Sumner said, tearing his besotted gaze from his glowing bride to be. "Rupert asked me to give you his regards and to tell you he will have something to ask you when he returns. I had the oddest feeling that he might be planning to make you an offer."
"You think so?" she inquired dully, surveying the cards laid out in front of her with unseeing eyes.
"It seemed very much that way. How delightfully everything is working out! I shall see if I can persuade him to come up to scratch. I'm sure it will please
Jeremy."
"I have no intention of marrying Rupert," Elizabeth said stonily.
Sumner laughed an indulgent little laugh, one he reserved for the foibles of the weaker sex. "I'm certain that's why Rupert left so early this morning. He and Jeremy were thick as thieves, and I have little doubt he'll ask permission to pay his respects to you, Elizabeth. You should be very grateful at this unexpected offer. Even though Captain Fraser isn't a villain after all, he's hardly likely to offer marriage. Apparently this was all some part he was playing, though I'm not entirely convinced, even now."
"Sumner, dearest, you know that Sir Henry told us he's actually a very nice young man. Well liked, respected, and with a comfortable fortune behind him. Not really your sort at all, Elizabeth." There was a malicious gleam in the green cat's eyes, and Elizabeth decided then and there never to trust another woman.
Sumner gazed fatuously upon his beloved before turning his gaze upon his recalcitrant sister. "You really should jump at the chance Rupert's offering you. If you have any sense," he added, his voice expressing strong doubts that she was thus endowed.
"If I had any sense, I would," she agreed gloomily, and returned to her card game much disheartened as the young lovers took themselves off.
Her next visitor was somewhat more welcome but equally disturbing. "I just came to wish you good-bye and Godspeed," Sir Henry said, smiling benevolently down on her. "I hope you aren't suffering any ill effects from your adventures last evening."
"Apart from a headache, a disfigured countenance, and a supremely bad temper, I am simply thriving."
"Well, you know, it all worked out for the best. It would have been extremely difficult to make any charges stick against the general. He was a trickster from way back. This war might have ended years earlier without the interference of men like him."
"And Adolphus is going to get away with cold-blooded murder?" she questioned sharply. "Nothing is going to happen to him after he assisted his uncle off the parapet?"
"I'm afraid not. There's no proof of that, either, and it's rid the Crown of a fairly sticky problem. The populace wouldn't have taken too kindly to a general selling secrets to the Frenchies. No, we're better off all around this way. I know you might wish for revenge, seeing as how it was Sir Adolphus who clubbed you on the head and locked you in his uncle's closet, but—"