“Why, what a pleasant surprise, Lady Fairfax! Care to join me for a walk on the beach?”
Despite the dizzying and deadly prospect before her, Sarah swallowed her fear. She wanted answers to questions that had been haunting her for three long years. She followed Eliza down.
Although the path was neither so narrow nor so steep as it had appeared from above, she clung to the chalky face of the cliff, its roughness tearing at her gown and shredding her gloves.
Eliza moved with far less difficulty, as if the descent were familiar to her. Sarah watched how she moved along the trail and avoided the spots Eliza’s feet had skirted. In a matter of moments, the other woman was standing on the sand, looking toward the water.
When Sarah at last traded the crumbling chalk for more solid ground, her breath was as ragged as her clothes. “What have you done, Miss Harrington?” she asked when she was at last able to speak.
“Done? Merely arranged matters so that things can be the way they always should have been.”
“And how is that?”
Eliza’s lips curled in a cruel sort of smile. “I think you know, Lady Fairfax. You overheard what I told your husband the night of your nuptial ball. I meant for you to overhear, after all,” she admitted coolly. “He should have married me.”
It was confession enough to make Sarah’s heart jerk into her throat.
“Yes, I was always meant to be Lady Fairfax, and eventually, the Marchioness of Estley.” Eliza began to stroll along the beach as she explained. Reluctantly, Sarah followed. “You see, my father and your husband’s father are old friends and near neighbors. When I was born, Papa began to fantasize of one day joining the two families. I grew up believing my future was already settled.”
They passed under a stone archway that had been carved by the power of the sea, then over a narrow strip of dry strand along the cliff, where an inlet cut in toward the shore. Beyond it lay a wider stretch of beach. In the distance, Sarah could see an abandoned skiff washed up on the shore. As they walked toward it, Eliza continued her story.
“I understand that you have a child, Lady Fairfax—a daughter.” Sarah’s heart thumped erratically in her chest, and she gave a chary glance over her shoulder, although the house was entirely out of sight and she knew she had left Clarissa safe in the nursery. “Can you imagine, if you chose her husband for her today, how she might feel about that man when she is a woman grown?”
Sarah gave an uncertain shake of her head. “I cannot.”
“This man she had known from a child,” Eliza pressed, “with whom she played on this very stretch of beach. This man around whom every plan for her future had been built. The first to kiss her, the first to—ah—” She seemed to catch herself with a wicked smirk and shook her head. “But that would be telling tales, would it not?”
Sarah blushed and looked away, trying not to imagine the intimacies this woman must have shared with her husband, feeling as if her heart were tearing in two. “She would love him, I hope.”
Eliza nodded, then paused, as if considering the implications of Sarah’s reply. “So, what do you suppose she might do when the man she loved was snatched away by another?”
Anything. Everything.
For the first time, Sarah began to question the wisdom of following the woman to such an isolated spot. She stooped and pretended to inspect her shoe, scrambling for an excuse to get away.
Obligingly, Eliza stopped and waited. “One morning, Papa came to me, grim-faced, and said that Lord Estley had found another bride for his son, one with fortunes more suited to the family’s needs,” she continued when Sarah at last stood. Despite the dull roar of the waves, Sarah could hear the edge in her voice. “Almost immediately Papa began to talk of a match with Mr. Abernathy instead. Philip Abernathy, whose idea of sparkling conversation is a debate over the best sort of apples to be put into a tart.” Eliza turned and looked at her. “The future of which I had dreamed was to be unceremoniously ripped away.”
“So you decided to fight for your dream.” Sarah could not admire Eliza’s actions. But she was beginning to understand them.
Eliza nodded. “I did, although I confess, at first I did not know how. When I called on Lady Estley, however, it came to me. It was clear she disdained the match as much as I, although heaven knows she was eager enough to have your money at her family’s disposal. Her every word expressed scorn for you, your birth, your looks. ‘Would you believe,’ ” Eliza said, in a passable imitation of Lady Estley’s shrill voice, “‘Estley imagines he can disguise those flaws by draping her in the family jewels?’ ”
Sarah felt her mouth drop open in a soft “Oh!” of understanding.
“Oh yes. I hoped that if I could find a way to make it seem as if you had stolen them, it would provide sufficient cause to put an end to your marriage. But the more I thought, the more I realized I would need assistance in carrying out my plan. A few nights later, I happened to be at Vauxhall when I overheard a group of young officers complaining about the high cost of purchasing a promotion—those who hadn’t the funds were forced to risk their lives to advance. There was a great deal of bravado being spouted, of course. I rather suspect they had been drinking to excess,” she confided in a broad whisper, as if there were someone nearby to overhear the allegation. “Captain Brice was among them. When he asked me to take a stroll along one of the alleys, I accepted. We . . . talked, and I suggested I might know of a way to help him to acquire the money he desired.”
Without conscious thought, Sarah lifted her hand to her throat, as if feeling for the necklace.
“That’s right,” Eliza averred, a sardonic gleam in her eye. “We met twice more in secret to plan. I would provide a distraction, send you into his path. You already know how I managed to do just that,” she added with a cutting smile. “He was to do whatever it took to comfort you. Most important, he was to get the necklace and hide it well. I stressed to him that it was essential to claim that the necklace was already missing when you joined him in the library—otherwise, suspicion might have fallen too easily on him.”
Sarah struggled to absorb the implications of everything Eliza was saying. “But your plan still might have failed if we had not been found—found—”
“In a compromising position? That’s right,” she agreed. “I did not know whether an accusation of theft would be enough to get rid of you. That was why it was necessary to bring a man into my plan. I could not very well make it look as if you had cuckolded Fairfax without one.” She laughed. “I do believe Captain Brice has a future on the stage once his military career is over. He played his part to perfection. And you, Lady Fairfax—well, you really must be more careful with wine. It can go to your head, you know,” she cautioned, wide-eyed, with what almost passed for earnestness.
“You—you drugged me?” Her fuzziness, her confusion, her headache the next morning all suddenly made sense.
“Think of it as helping you to relax. And while you two, er, occupied yourselves in the library, I persuaded Fairfax to join me there for one last tryst. I had already arranged for footmen to deliver two messages simultaneously: one to your parents, informing them that Lord Estley wished to meet; and one to Lord and Lady Estley, saying that Fairfax needed to speak to them. Et voilà! The new bride in the library with the officer, for everyone to see,” she announced, sweeping her hand before her as if displaying the tableau she described. “But, alas, without the family jewels.”
“The necklace was in the library all along.”
“Of course. After the room had emptied, I went back and retrieved it from the place he had hidden it. It was then that things began to get. . . interesting, shall we say. I left the ballroom to meet with a man in Covent Garden. Perhaps you know the sort of man I mean?”
Sarah nodded blankly, barely certain of what Eliza had asked. She was reliving that night, that awful night—the pitiless faces, her parents’ shame. St. John’s cold indifference. If he had been anticipating a tête-à-tête with Miss Harr
ington, then the scene in the library must have been doubly disappointing to him.
The horrible memory absorbed her to the point that she almost missed Eliza’s next words.
“Imagine my surprise when he told me the Sutliffe sapphires were nothing but an exquisite forgery.”
“Not . . . real?” she mumbled. But then, nothing else about the evening had been, either.
“Almost worthless. I was frantic. I had promised Captain Brice a good deal of money for his role, and now I had nothing with which to buy his silence. My perfect plan was collapsing around my ears.” Eliza’s green gaze drifted over the seascape. “Then I happened to remember Lady Estley’s concern about your wearing the gems, and I began to wonder . . .”
“She knew the gems were false?”
“Indeed. As it turns out, she had had the copy made—after having pawned the original to cover her losses at the card table.” In spite of herself, Sarah gasped at the revelation. “Of course, it took some doing to get the truth from her. But she was understandably reluctant to have her husband learn what had happened to his precious family heirloom. She paid me handsomely to keep her secret. Not once, but many times.”
“You kept the false necklace,” Sarah said, recalling the story St. John’s stepmother had spun for him about being blackmailed over the jewels. So it had been true—only the name of the blackmailer had been changed.
“I’m no fool,” Eliza huffed. “I also persuaded Lady Estley to send you away, knowing it would confirm your guilt. Then I learned that you had drowned in the attempt to escape—better yet!”
“She did not tell you I was alive?” Sarah noted, surprised. So the marchioness really had managed to keep the secret—a number of secrets, it seemed.
“No.” The admission seemed to pain her. “But once I learned the truth, I realized I could not let the little matter of your survival get in the way of my success.”
Eliza’s matter-of-factness in speaking of another’s death chilled Sarah’s blood far more than the brisk wind coming off the Atlantic. She should have known the woman would never have revealed so much if she had had any intention of allowing her an opportunity to repeat it to another.
Fear thrummed through her body. In the moment, she could think of no better distraction than to keep Eliza talking.
“What of Captain Brice?”
Eliza waved a hand, as if the detail were trivial. “He was sent on a dangerous mission, from which he seemed unlikely to return. And as I had not yet paid him for his part in our little play, I had both the necklace and the money.” As if they were close friends, she threaded her arm through Sarah’s and resumed walking, pulling her along toward the little boat. Only when they at last reached it did Eliza release her arm.
The tide scrubbed the stern with an insistent rhythm. Sarah glanced inside the small vessel, looking for something, anything she could use to save herself. Could she wield one of the heavy oars and knock Eliza down?
“I had only to wait until Fairfax returned to me,” Eliza continued as she leaned against the gunwale, blocking Sarah from reaching into the boat. Her eyes wandered up the beach, in the direction from which they had come, and she gave a self-satisfied smile. “And, look! Here he comes now.”
Sarah turned to see St. John, clad only in his shirtsleeves, striding forcefully across the strand.
When he was close enough to hear her over the sound of the water, Eliza called to him. “It would have been better, Fairfax, if you had not lost your temper and thrown that blasted necklace across the room. When I heard it hit the wall, I knew the forgery would be discovered.”
“And it was,” he said.
“So, how did you leave things at the house, my dear?” Eliza asked, pushing away from the boat. “Does your father now realize what his silly wife has done?”
“Yes.”
“He should know Miss Harrington was involved, too,” Sarah inserted, managing, somehow, to keep her own voice composed. “It was she who arranged the necklace’s disappearance on the night of the ball. With Captain Brice.”
The information did not seem to surprise him. Or if it did, his eyes still never left Eliza. “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
Eliza looked pained, clearly hurt by his lack of understanding. “To rescue you, of course. To set you free.”
“Free,” he echoed.
“I did all of this so you would see your wife for what she is. A social climber. A schemer. A—”
“A thief?” he suggested.
Eliza smiled then and walked toward him, her hands outstretched. “Oh, you scoundrel. What a start you gave me. I might have guessed you didn’t mean it when you proclaimed her innocence.”
St. John stepped toward Eliza and took her hands in his, his pale eyes never leaving her face.
Sarah’s heart lurched, pulled as it was in two very different directions. Had he really stood up for her, said he did not believe her guilty, despite the evidence? If so, then why hadn’t he come to her side now?
According to Eliza, this was a place where the two of them had often played in their childhood. Now, in the fading light and against the shimmering sea, they looked for all the world like two lovers meeting on the beach. Standing in the place where they were born, born to be together. Looking deep into one another’s eyes, holding hands...
Sarah’s restless gaze traveled over the pair and then locked on the place where they touched.
St. John was not holding Eliza’s hands. He was pinning her wrists.
And then he shook his head and she heard him ask, “Are you mad?”
* * *
As he looked into Eliza’s eyes, St. John realized that the answer to his question very possibly was yes.
When he had seen them standing together on the beach, his first feeling had been relief. He was not too late—or at least, not quite. He had raced forward, despite the tide.
Now, however, he realized the full extent of the danger they were all in.
Was Sarah all right? He longed to look at her, reach for her, go to her, but he feared that to do so would draw down more of Eliza’s vengeful wrath.
“You don’t mean that. Come, my love,” she urged, tipping her chin in the direction of the boat. “This is our chance.”
Standing so close, he could not help but be struck by Eliza’s beauty. But he could also see now that her beauty was surrounded by a hardness, like a thick layer of ice encasing a winter rose, destroying what it seemed to protect. Had he failed to notice it years ago? Or was this shell of more recent acquisition?
“I can certainly understand why you might be desperate to get away.” Sarah took a step toward him as she spoke, but her eyes never left Eliza’s face. “Now that Captain Brice has followed you to Lynscombe.”
Beneath her wind-roughened cheeks Eliza turned deathly pale. “H-he is here?” A sort of wildness overspread her features and she jerked against his imprisoning hands.
“Yes,” Sarah confirmed. “My father saw him this morning in the village.”
In the village? St. John tightened his hold on Eliza. Why hadn’t Sarah said something sooner? Because she had feared what he would do when he knew? He had told her he believed her innocent, but she was not yet ready to trust his word, it seemed, not yet ready to believe he had spoken the truth. Last night she had given in to her body’s desires, and his own. But her heart, it seemed, was not yet his.
Well, then, he would find another way to win it.
“I could not imagine what had brought him here,” Sarah was saying. “Until now. You said you promised him a great deal of money for his part in the theft of the necklace—more, I suppose, than Lady Estley has been able to supply.”
“Yes,” Eliza grudgingly admitted. “When he returned from France I explained how things stood and gave him what money I had. But, of course, it was not nearly what he expected. He’s been hounding me ever since, threatening to expose me. But I did not think he would follow me from London.”
“You placed the gems
in Sarah’s trunk,” St. John said, “hoping to destroy his hold over you.”
“I was more concerned about her hold over you,” she said, her eyes darting between Sarah and him. “Why did you play the jealous husband all those years ago? Challenging a noted marksman to a duel. You might have been killed, and over a woman who could mean nothing to you! Did you know that I went to him, pleaded for him to choose swords, to give you a sporting chance?”
“How—considerate of you to intervene.” Despite the cool air on his skin, the old scar burned with fresh heat. “And how kind of him to agree. I hope I shall have an opportunity to express my gratitude to him in person.”
“There seems to have been a slight flaw in your plan, Miss Harrington,” Sarah observed coolly, disrupting the vengeful train of his thoughts. “If both Lady Estley and Captain Brice knew you had the gems, and both are here now to confirm it, doesn’t that make it rather clear that you are the guilty one, not I?”
“The only flaw in my plan is about to be rectified,” Eliza snapped. “Let us go, Fairfax. Together. As we were meant to be. You needn’t worry about her anymore.” She tossed a disparaging glance over her shoulder at Sarah. “Leave her here and you’ll soon be free of her forever.”
As the water pushed closer, it was only too clear what she meant. Could Eliza—this woman he had known almost all his life—truly be so calculating, so cruel?
But he already knew that answer, too.
“I cannot.”
“Of course you can,” she insisted. “After all I’ve done for you, surely you do not mean to deny me.”
“I belong here, Eliza. At Lynscombe.”
Her grass-green gaze flickered over his face. “I suppose I can take some consolation at having been thrown over for that shabby village rather than your shabby wife.” The small boat shuddered and lifted from the sand with the force of the rising tide. “Don’t be a fool, Fairfax,” she said, fright sharpening her voice as she struggled against his hold.
To Kiss a Thief Page 25