Earth, Air, Fire, and Water 04 - A Treacherous Proposition

by Patricia Frances Rowell

  Having her out of doors alone made him uneasy. They were probably safe enough here for the time being, but still… Vincent quietly opened the door, then cleared his throat. He didn’t want to frighten her.

  “Diana?” He stepped out onto the terrace.

  She turned toward him. “Vincent?”

  “Yes, it is I.” He crossed to her and sat beside her. “Is all well with you?”

  For a space she did not answer the question, just sat staring at the sky. At last she said, “Vincent, I need for you to promise me something, if you will.”

  Startled, Vincent looked at her more closely. “I will if it is within my capabilities. What is it?”

  Diana turned and shifted her gaze to his face. “If…if something happens to me, will you care for Bytham and Selena?”

  Damnation! What brought this on? He searched for the right words. “Of course, if I am able, but… What has happened, Diana?” But of course, he knew. “There was something in those letters.” It was not a question.

  She nodded. “My cousin writes that he will not have a…a disgraced woman and her spawn in his house. He expresses shock that I have—in his words—thrown myself at Lord Lonsdale in such a shameless fashion.”

  “The bastard!” Vincent jumped to his feet. “What does he know of the matter? In fact, how does he know of the matter?”

  Diana shrugged. “I have no idea. But I did not expect him to offer me shelter. This is merely an excuse.”

  Vincent stalked across the terrace, spun about angrily and stalked back. She watched him calmly as he came to a stop before her. Sudden alarm shot through him. He scowled. “Diana. You…you are not thinking of harming yourself, are you?”

  “No.” She sighed and shook her head. “I would never do that to my children. But I fear that my enemies may do it for me, one way or another. I must think of the children, plan for them to be cared for.”

  Vincent sat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Diana, I don’t know what to say to you. I—I promised Wyn to care for you and the children, but you must know by now that I would do it for your own sakes regardless of any promise to Wyn.” He turned to her and took her hand. “You know I am drawn to you—I cannot hide that—and I am growing very fond of Bytham and Selena.”

  Diana gazed at him steadily. Skeptically? “But?”

  He would have to tell her. Vincent shuddered at the thought that the knowledge might place her in even greater peril. But she needed to know. He reached for her other hand. “Diana, I am not free to make promises to anyone. If I am not very careful, I might not live to see the month out myself.”

  Her delicate eyebrows rose questioningly. Vincent drew a deep breath and plunged on. “I have placed myself in the service of the Crown—have taken on the investigation of certain matters.”

  “I see.” She nodded thoughtfully. “You have become a spy.”

  “Yes.” He looked into her face, trying desperately to see what she thought of that information. “I am a spy.”

  “And you are being pursued, also.”

  “Yes, I believe by the same people who wish to capture you or the children. The situations overlap.”

  “And are you going to tell me what they are?” Her tranquil expression had not changed.

  Dare he tell her? “I am afraid that any further knowledge you might have…” He bounded to his feet. “Ah, the devil with it! It can make little difference now that everyone knows I have you with me.” He began to pace again. “As I told you, we fear that there are those who wish to help Bonaparte escape from the island of Elba and return him to power. They must be stopped. If they actually make the attempt, there will be a veritable bloodbath.”

  She followed him with her gaze. “And Wyn was a part of this plot?”

  “I am not sure. St. Edmunds almost certainly is. To what extent he had involved Wyn or exactly what the plan is… I don’t yet know. That is what I am trying to discover. Wyn talked admiringly of Napoleon to anyone and everyone, but nothing to the purpose. It was very bad of him, in his position, but try as I might, I could not stop him.” He paused before her. “But I am not sure he was included in the scheming. Rather, I believe they were using him to gain knowledge from the Foreign Office. But for someone to be in such a panic about what he might have told you… He must have known something.”

  “The conspirators may have killed him to keep him from revealing their plans, then.”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “And you are equally at risk, because they know you also have knowledge of them.”

  “Suspicions, more accurately, no real knowledge. Certainly not proof. But I fear that these recent events mean that somehow they have discovered my role in the investigation.”

  Diana looked up into the stars again, as if seeking an answer to her problem. “So what arrangements should I make for my children?”

  Vincent sat beside her again. “Do you have a will?”

  “A will? I have never thought about it. I own nothing…”

  “But your children.”

  “Yes, of course. I should have thought of that as soon as Wyn died.” She pondered for a moment. “But who would take that responsibility?”

  Suddenly, Vincent knew without a doubt. “Adam and Helen.”

  “Lord and Lady Litton? But…but they hardly know me.”

  “They have wanted children for several years. Helen has suffered a number of miscarriages. We will write to them tomorrow and include your will. If they don’t wish to accommodate you, they will say so.”

  “You believe I can trust them to…to love Bytham and Selena when I am gone?” Tears hovered on the tips of her eyelashes.

  Vincent thought about the question. Suddenly he knew that, as few people as he trusted in this world, he would bet his own life on the love and loyalty of Adam and Helen Barbon.

  Why had he never realized that before?

  He reached out and brushed Diana’s tears away with his thumb. “With all my heart. But do not despair, Diana. We are all still alive, and I intend to keep us that way.”

  She sighed and he moved to pull her into his arms.

  And stopped dead still.

  A dark figure drifted toward them across the lawn.

  “Shh!” Vincent seized Diana and shoved her toward the house, putting himself between her and the approaching shape. But she didn’t move, simply stood staring at the approaching black form. He was at the point of pulling her to the door when she held up a detaining hand.

  “Wait. That looks like Old Annie.”

  “Who?” Vincent squinted into the darkness. “The midwife who has been treating your face?” He sensed her nod rather than saw it.

  “What is she doing out this time of night? Perhaps she is ill and needs help.”

  In fact, the old woman seemed to be stumbling. Vincent cast a wary glance into the shadows of the trees. Surely she could not be in league with his enemies. He pressed Diana back against the wall of the house and walked to meet Old Annie. As he approached her, he could hear a sound coming from her, a soft singsong, rising and falling under her breath. She did not seem to see him at all.

  He took her arm. “Mistress Annie, do you need assistance?”

  “Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm.” She looked past him toward the house.

  He turned to see Diana right behind him. “She doesn’t answer me.”

  “Cobbs said she has spells.” Diana came around him and touched the old woman’s shoulder. “Mistress Annie, can you hear me? It’s Lady… It’s Mrs. Greenleigh.”

  “Dark.” The word rumbled up from deep in the woman’s chest. “So dark.”

  “Yes,” Diana agreed. “It is very dark tonight.”

  “The moon.” Annie rolled her eyes at the heavens. “Moon dark.”

  The hair on the back of Vincent’s neck rose. He nodded and tried to speak normally. “Yes, Mistress Annie, of course the moon is dark.”

  “Dark…dark…” Suddenly the midwife spun around, jerking out of his grip. “I hear
her.”

  “Hear who, Mistress Annie?” Diana took hold of her sleeve.

  “Black Annis. She walks at the dark moon. She says danger…danger.”

  “Come now, Annie.” Fighting the shiver crawling up his back, Vincent strove for reason. “Black Annis is only a tale to frighten children.”

  A screech of a laugh erupted into the night. In spite of himself, Vincent stepped back. Annie turned on him. “You wish, you wish. You tell yourself tales to not be afraid. But I know.” She turned slowly, scanning the darkness around them. “I know. Named for her I was. She walks. She has ways. She walks hidden ways.”

  Diana drew back and looked around her. So did Vincent.

  “Nonsense.” Vincent gave the old woman a gentle shake. This was getting out of hand. “I will walk you home.”

  “There! There!” Suddenly, Annie flung out a hand. “You see! I told you.”

  Vincent dropped Annie’s arm and grasped Diana’s. “Into the house. Now!”

  Half running, he all but dragged Diana across the lawn. He vaulted up the terrace steps, bringing her with him, and pushed them both through the door. “Send Throckmorton to me! Get your pistol and stay with the children. Hurry!”

  Without a word Diana ran out of the room and up the stairs. Vincent took a double-barreled horse pistol from his desk and peered out into the dark. He could no longer see Old Annie.

  Or anyone else.

  A thump and a grunt heralded Throckmorton’s arrival in the darkened room. Vincent never took his eyes off the lawn. “You go out the front. I’ll take the side door.”

  Throckmorton muttered agreement and slipped off through the house. Vincent felt his way to the side entry. When they had each circled the house without seeing signs of life, Vincent nodded at the woods. They moved off silently.

  A chilly frustrating hour later, they gave it up and returned to the manor, having seen or heard nothing but the rustling of the night.

  Old Annie was gone.

  The incident continued to disturb Vincent the next morning. He and Throckmorton searched again in the daylight, but discovered no indication that anyone other than the old midwife had been afoot the night before. Of course, if Throckmorton had loyalties other than to him… The thought brought chills to Vincent’s spine. But so far he had found no reason to believe that.

  He called Cobbs to the library and questioned him about Annie. Cobbs grimaced. “Well, sir, I suppose, as my wife says, there ain’t no such thing as witches. But if there is, then Old Annie is the one Eldritch Manor is named for.”

  “Oh, come now, Cobbs,” Vincent chided. “The manor is far older than any living person.”

  “Aye, sir…. At least, I hope so.”

  Vincent frowned. “In any event, I am not concerned so much about her possible supernatural abilities as her present associates.” He raised an eyebrow. “Could she possibly be in league with anyone who might be up to no good?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t think that, sir. She’s too strange.”

  “She said last night that she saw someone, heard someone. Said she heard Black Annis.” Vincent shook his head in disgust. “But I have no confidence in that theory. If she saw someone, they were flesh and blood.”

  Cobbs shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, sir. She do have the sight. And the moon was dark. Black Annis—”

  “Don’t tell me you believe that nonsense? Besides, I’m told the uncanny crone is supposed to live in a cave near Leicester.” Vincent’s mouth quirked wryly. “Or in Scotland. She seems fairly ubiquitous.”

  “Leicester ain’t that far, sir.” Cobbs studied his boots. “If Mistress Annie saw something, it was very likely beyond our ken. I don’t believe she would lead anyone here to burgle the place or nothing like that. Wouldn’t no one want to come with her.”

  With that Vincent had to be content. He had to admit that the old woman seemed an unlikely confederate for his pursuers. But had she actually heard or seen anything other than the fantasies of her own mind?

  They needed to move on while they could do so unobserved.

  He still could not be sure from whom they fled. After he had finally reached his bed last night, it had occurred to him that, while he had revealed his secret to Diana, she had kept hers. She had received two letters. And she had mentioned only one. Apparently she still did not trust him enough to confide in him.

  Or she pursued a goal of her own of which he had no inkling. Vincent winced. That would be a sharp wound, indeed, to discover that she conspired against him with his opponents.

  One from which he might never recover.

  But somehow he did not think that was the case. That she genuinely feared for her life, he had no doubt. But whom did she fear, and why? Perhaps she had known of St. Edmunds’s plans and had already betrayed them to someone. She had feared him from the first. If so, why did she not admit that? Other than the fact that she suspected Vincent himself of a double game.

  But Vincent began to think that there was another player—one that had never been mentioned between them, one he might not know. Time would tell. The shadowy menace could not remain hidden forever. But he wished with his whole heart that Diana, herself, would tell him who it was. That she would trust him. That he could trust her.

  One thing was certain.

  Whether he could or not, he still wanted her.

  They spent the rest of the day on correspondence. Diana wrote a simple will and a letter to Lord and Lady Litton, begging them to accept the charge of her children should she lose her life. She could only pray that they would.

  And that the situation would not arise.

  Vincent also composed a lengthy document to be sent to them, but what it was, he did not say. Perhaps it had to do with his business as a spy. A spy! As if she had not enough reasons for anxiety and suspicion. She must watch herself with him. He seemed so kind, and he said he cared for her and the children, but… A spy might be hiding anything.

  Tomorrow, Throckmorton would post her letter, and Diana felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Now she could give her attention to defeating her enemies and contriving to stay alive, knowing that if she failed, Selena and Bytham would be provided for.

  Ah, but how it grieved her to think of leaving them forever!

  After sitting with the children while they finished their supper, Diana kissed her offspring good-night and watched Fanny lead them up to bed. Perhaps it had become a little easier to let someone else tuck them in. They must become more accustomed to the care of others. It would be easier for them if…

  But she would not think of that.

  When she and Vincent had eaten their own dinner, he disappeared into his study as was his custom. Diana went out onto the terrace and sought her accustomed spot on the bench, seeking solace in the scene. A soft summer sunset had given way to a thick lavender twilight. In the west the tiniest sliver of a new moon poised against the mellow sky, bidding the world a lingering good-night. Just below the slender crescent hung a brilliant, diminutive star, like a lady’s diamond earring below her delicate ear.

  Diana let the peace of the dusk steal over her. The breeze tonight felt slightly damp and warm, soothing. After a few moments she became aware of Vincent standing behind her. He said nothing and she did not turn. They stayed thus, captive to the spell of the night, watching the moon descend into the void and feeling the soft blanket of the dark slowly wrap around them. He moved closer and rested both hands on her shoulders.

  Diana found herself leaning back against him and his grip tightened. Her heart began to beat faster and she could hear his breathing deepen. He stepped over the bench and, straddling it, circled her waist with his arms and pulled her back against his chest.

  Last night he had told her that he was drawn to her. She did not know then if she believed that. She did not know now. The chance that he was using her and her children as pawns in some deadly competition was all too real. She had succumbed to the sweet words of love once before.


  But tonight it did not matter. There might be very little of her life left to her. She did not want to die celibate and alone. Empty. Tonight she wanted to be filled with the warmth of his body, to smell his smoky masculine scent, the wool and starch of his clothes. To feel the rise of passion.

  The rasp of a day-old beard pressed against her cheek. She felt his breath against the skin of her neck. Diana closed her eyes. His arms pulled her closer. The muscles of his thighs pressed against her hips. His lips touched her ear.

  “Diana.”

  A shiver ran through her. She turned in his embrace and lifted her face.

  “Ah, God.” The sigh whispered through her hair and down the side of her face to her mouth. His lips came over hers, hot, hard, demanding. Diana dropped her head back and his mouth found its way to her exposed throat. Heat pooled in her lower body as she leaned back in his arms.

  Suddenly his whole body went rigid. Vincent lifted his head, his eyes narrow, searching. Then Diana heard it, too. Stealthy footsteps. The rustle of grass. Before she knew what had happened, he had swooped her off his lap and onto the floor between the bench and the balustrade, rolling onto her, his body covering hers.

  The footsteps drew nearer. The corner of Diana’s eye caught a flicker in the dim light and movement close beside her face. Vincent had lifted himself on one elbow, a pistol in his other hand. Diana lay very still, hardly daring to breathe.

  Suddenly the light of a lamp appeared at the door leading into the corridor. A voice called out, “Fanny, is that you?”

  “Yes, Mama. We are coming.” The footsteps hurried forward.

  Diana felt Vincent’s weight increase as, all at once, he relaxed. A giggle rose up in her. His lips found her ear. “Shh!”

  Diana stifled the giggle, but she could feel the shaking of his own silent laughter. She peered under the bench in time to see two figures, one tall and one small, hasten up the steps to the terrace. The Harter boy.

  “You best get in, young lady.” Mrs. Cobbs’s voice sounded annoyed. “You are supposed to be in before dark. It’s well your father is doing accounts.”