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

by Patricia Frances Rowell

  “Well enough. And yourself?”

  “Aye, guv’nor, right as rain.”

  One of the terriers put his paws on Vincent’s knee and Vincent bent down to scratch the thick fur behind the ears. The ratter wagged the whole rear half of his body in ecstasy. “Have you been to London?”

  The man nodded. “Aye, rode the mail there and back. The news ain’t good.”

  Vincent sighed. “Somehow I did not expect it to be.”

  “That’s a fact, guv’nor. Ain’t nothing about this business gone right. St. Edmunds ain’t been seen by none of our lads in the last week.”

  “Damnation! He’s missing, too?”

  “Aye, sir. Seems so.”

  “And Deimos?”

  The ratcatcher shook his head dolefully. “No sign of him, neither.”

  “Bloody hell!” Vincent kicked a stone across the road. Took several steps up the road and paced back down.

  The man in the shabby brown coat awaited events, unperturbed. “Told you it wasn’t good.”

  “Aye. And you were correct.” Vincent took a long breath and contained his temper. “Well, they will surface eventually.”

  He had no doubt of that. Deimos had promised to kill him. Vincent had disrupted his plans one time too many. Once would have been enough for the ruthless assassin. But Vincent had made a similar vow with respect to Deimos when he had found what was left of one of his best men.

  He changed the subject. “Caught any rats at the Blue Boar?”

  “Aye, inn stables are good hunting.”

  “There is one rat in particular staying there that I would like to catch. I need to know if he does anything suspicious—meets anyone who isn’t local.”

  “I’ll keep me daylights peeled. What’s his name?”

  “Calls himself Henry Delamare. Looks a lot like me.”

  “Oh, that cove. I’ve seen him. Has a rum-looking cully with him. They say he’s his valet, but he don’t look like no valet to me.”

  “That so? What does he look like?”

  “Like a ship rat in fancy clothes. I’ll cap downright he’s good with a shiv.” The man whistled to his dogs. “I’ll keep him in my eye. What’s this Delamare say he’s doing here?”

  “He says he’s my brother.”

  That, of course, had required an explanation. By the time Vincent had made it and sent the ratcatcher on his way, it was getting late. He had been away too long. Spurring his horse to a fast canter, he headed back to Inglewood. He had left good men to watch over Diana, and she was in all likelihood with Throckmorton and the children, but his absence made him nervous.

  Besides, he had hoped to spend some time with her and Selena and Bytham. He still did not have much skill in playing with the youngsters, but he was learning. He watched Throckmorton with them enviously. The big boxer seemed to know instinctively how to handle them.

  It was at that moment that Vincent had a revelation.

  He trusted Throckmorton.

  Vincent did not know when it happened, but sometime over the last weeks, his wariness of the man had dissipated. He had ceased to worry about the man’s proximity to the children. The realization both shocked and relieved him. Of course, he had no guarantee of Throckmorton’s credibility. One never did. With people, there were no guarantees. But occasionally one could take another on faith.

  And he had been taking the man on faith for weeks.

  As he rode up the drive of Inglewood he overtook one of his grooms ambling along aboard a chestnut hack.

  “Good afternoon, m’lord.” The young man turned in his saddle to greet him. “I’ve been to get the post.”

  Vincent drew up beside him and held out his hand. “Thank you. You may as well give it to me now.”

  The groom passed over a handful of letters. Vincent nodded his thanks and cantered away up the drive, glancing at them as he went. There seemed to be nothing of importance—a message from his man of business, a brace of bills directed to the housekeeper—except for one thin note addressed to Diana.

  This one had not been forwarded, but sent to her directly at Inglewood. He turned it over in his hand, debating whether he should investigate its contents. Perhaps it contained a clue to her supposedly shameful secret. But he was not ready to do that. She would tell him. Eventually she would tell him herself.

  As he came in sight of the house he saw that Nurse and Throckmorton had already taken the children in for supper, but Diana still sat on a garden bench in the fading light, reading. Two footmen loitered a short distance away. Vincent gave his horse to the care of a groom and strode to join her. She smiled tiredly at him as he stopped beside her, telltale circles under her eyes betraying her lack of sleep.

  “I have brought the post.” He handed her the letter and stood looking at her intently.

  Diana turned it over and examined the address closely. To her relief, the hand was not Deimos’s. She did not recognize it, and there was no return address. Vincent still watched her sharply. She knew he wanted her to open the letter, to perhaps provide a clue to her secret. But this letter would not do that. She smiled sadly to herself and broke the seal.

  She unfolded the paper. There was nothing at all written on it. But lying in the crease was a lock of hair. A lock of hair so pale gold it was almost silver. She knew only two people who had hair that color.

  “Selena!” She flung the paper to the ground and jumped up, running for the house. After only a moment Vincent caught and passed her, the letter clutched in his hand. The footmen raced along behind her without knowing why. She reached the top of the steps as Vincent was pounding on the door of the children’s room. By the time it opened she was beside him, gasping for breath.

  “Selena! Bytham!” Diana pushed past him and ran into the room. Both children, Nurse and Throckmorton looked at her in wide-eyed astonishment. She ran and knelt by Selena and began to run her fingers through her silky hair, looking for signs that a strand had been cut out.

  “Mama!” Selena tossed her head impatiently and tried to pull away. “What are you doing?”

  “Be still, Selena.” Diana glanced at Vincent, her heart thumping hard in her chest. With a deep breath she calmed her frantic activity. She didn’t want to infect her daughter with her own panic. “I don’t see anything cut.”

  “What’s afoot?” Throckmorton frowned at Vincent.

  Vincent held out the message. “This came in the post.”

  Throckmorton peered at the lock. “That looks like Miss Selena’s hair—or her ladyship’s.”

  “Aye,” Vincent responded grimly. “That it does.”

  At this point Nurse left off buttoning Bytham’s shirt and hurried across the room. She looked at the shining hair, gasped and clapped both hands to her mouth.

  Vincent grasped her elbow. “What is it?”

  The old woman just shook her head, her face pale.

  Diana stood and came to her, gently placing a hand on her arm. “Nurse? Do you know something about this?”

  Nurse wound her hands in her apron, crumpling the starched, white fabric. “Someone took it. Someone took her hair.”

  “Yes.” Vincent slid an arm around her bony shoulders. “Do you know how that happened?”

  “But I buried it. I always bury it, Lord Vincent.” She began to rock herself, arms crossed over her chest.

  “Buried her hair?” Vincent’s eyebrows drew together in puzzlement.

  “Like I always do.” Nurse took on a stubborn expression. “Like I did yours and your brother’s.”

  “Ah.” Enlightenment. Diana nodded encouragingly. “You trimmed Selena’s hair recently?”

  Nurse turned to her. “Aye, my lady. It had got too long on the sides, so I evened it up a bit. But I buried it.”

  Diana turned to Vincent. “My nurse always did that, too.”

  “But why?” Vincent looked no less puzzled.

  “So no one will get it.” Nurse frowned at him, as if addressing a slow student.

  Vincent looked
questioningly at Diana. Relieved, she smiled. “They say that having a part of someone’s body gives you power over them.”

  “Nay, then. It’s no matter to laugh at.” Nurse’s scowl increased. “They can bring harm to the child.”

  In spite of herself Diana shivered. She herself, having nowhere to bury them, had always burned hair trimmings. Relief that no stranger had touched her daughter and an unreasoning superstitious fear warred in her breast.

  “Show me where you put it.” Vincent ushered the old woman toward the door. Diana followed them out, catching a glimpse of Throckmorton shaking his head skeptically as he closed the door.

  The two footmen who had been guarding Diana had taken up positions outside the bedchamber door. They added themselves to the entourage and the five of them trooped out, past the garden and into the park. Diana found herself almost running to keep up with Nurse’s spry steps.

  The sun now drifted toward the dark, sending fingers of shadow across the grass and fingers of color across the sky. Farther into the park the pond frogs were tuning up for the evening and Nurse led the way in that direction, over the hill toward the spring. When she came to an elder tree near the stream, she knelt and began to feel around near the roots.

  “It’s gone,” she wailed, rocking back on her heels. “I wrapped it in a handkerchief and put it right here. They took it.”

  Vincent bent down and put his hand into the hole. “You are sure this is the place?”

  “Aye, m’lord.” Nurse gave him an annoyed glance. “Of course, I’m sure.”

  He placated her with a smile. “Of course. You saw no one while you were digging?”

  Nurse shook her head. “No, but it was dark. I always wait until it is dark. I don’t want them to see.”

  “Well, someone saw.” He stood. “At least we know how the hair was obtained.”

  Diana nodded and sighed. “Yes. That is a relief. I could not believe that with Throckmorton there anyone could have entered, and I know he would never allow anyone to harm the children, but…”

  “No.” Vincent took her arm and started back to the house. “I am now confident of that. For a moment I thought perhaps…but, no. It was not Throckmorton. But this, again, means that someone is watching the house. Damnation!” He slapped his thigh angrily. “With all the patrols we have, how could they go undetected?”

  “This is a big place, my lord.” Diana patted his arm soothingly. “One person might easily hide in the grounds.”

  “I know. Especially if they were familiar with them.” Vincent’s expression became grim. “It is time to discover who that is.”

  Nurse moved up to Diana’s other side, still distressed. “But, my lady, they have her hair. What are we to do?”

  Diana gazed at her for a moment, thinking, then flicked a glance at Vincent. He was giving orders to the footmen.

  She turned back to the old woman and said quietly, “I’m sure you know what to do better than I, Nurse. Tonight I will help you.”

  Vincent propped his boots on his library desk and leaned back in his chair. “Come in, Throckmorton.”

  “You wanted to see me, me lord?” The big man ambled into the room and stood in front of the desk.

  “Aye.” Vincent pushed two small books across the desk to him. “I think you might enjoy these more than nursery tales. They are written for adults, but the going is not too difficult.” He indicated a chair. “Have a seat.”

  Throckmorton took the books and eased himself into a chair. “Thank you, me lord. I try to read to pass the time when Miss Selena and Master Bytham are asleep, but I have grown a bit weary of Tales from Times Past…” He grimaced. “With Morals. What’s in your mind?”

  Vincent put his hands together and tapped his lips with his fingers thoughtfully. “We have a problem.”

  The boxer grinned. “I’ll warrant we do, me lord. A whole gaggle of ’em.”

  “But one in particular.” Vincent thought for another moment. “Someone who knows Inglewood is spying on us—someone who knows where to hide in the grounds, where the flues are, the service passage. It is time to find them.”

  Throckmorton frowned. “You think it’s someone in the house, me lord. I wouldn’t a thought…”

  “Nay. No one here now. But unfortunately there is a large supply of those who once worked here and left me in anger.”

  “You, me lord? Now why would they do that?”

  Vincent smiled ruefully. “Suffice it to say, they had reason.”

  “So what’s the lay?”

  “How long has it been since you had an evening off, Throckmorton?”

  The big man scratched his head. “I dunno, me lord. Since before we left London, I’d hazard.”

  “Perhaps we can kill two birds with the proverbial single stone.” Vincent took his feet off the desk and leaned his elbows on it. “I think you should spend a little time at the Blue Boar.”

  “Oh, I think I could do that all right and tight. Wouldn’t mind at all.” Throckmorton grinned. “I might even complain a bit over a heavy wet.”

  “Definitely complain.” Vincent reflected his grin. “You don’t get enough time off. You have to play nursemaid to a pair of brats. Even sleep in the room with them.”

  “Aye, it’s a dirty shame.” A chuckle erupted. “Barely have time to go to the privy. But who’s to watch over the little ones while I’m gone, me lord? I couldn’t bear…”

  “I will when you are away. And young Feetham and the others. We cannot let down our guard. Even though we found the source, sending that lock of Selena’s hair to us was a threat. Someone still means to frighten Lady Diana into silence.”

  “The blackguards! And her such a kind lady.” Throckmorton shook his fist. “If I could but get me fambles on ’em, I’d send ’em to grass. They best not make a try at the wee ones while I’m on watch.”

  “I know.” Vincent looked into the big man’s eyes. “And I thank you.”

  Diana let Emma brush out her hair and tie it back with a ribbon, but she did not undress. She sent the girl to bed and sat down by the window to wait. Vincent was still downstairs. He had a conference with Throckmorton earlier, but the big boxer had returned to his duties in the next chamber. Apparently, Vincent was now playing billiards with Justinian Sudbury who still graced them with his presence.

  Why was he still here? Did that amiable gentleman represent a threat or a friend? Diana never knew whether to be open with him or wary. He certainly had a way of turning up at suspicious moments. She wished he would go away.

  And that Vincent would come up to bed soon.

  What would he say when he learned her plans for tonight? She smiled, thinking of the to-do that was likely. But she knew she would prevail. Nurse must be calmed. And so must she. Diana did not believe for a heartbeat that her enemies wished to put a spell on her child, but still… She would welcome a bit of metaphysical protection for her.

  No, the intention of whomever had sent the lock of hair had been to make another threat against her daughter, to frighten Diana again. And they had succeeded. For one horrible moment as she flew up the stairs, even though she had just seen her minutes before, she had expected to find her daughter missing. Or to find evidence that someone close to them was in league with their opponents. With so many people in the house, how could they ever be sure?

  A light tap on the door broke into her thoughts. She placed her ear against it. “Who is there?”

  “I, m’lady.” Nurse’s voice.

  “Are you alone?”

  “Aye.”

  Diana unlocked the door and Nurse slipped into the room. Just as Diana was closing it, Vincent’s voice sounded down the hallway.

  “Diana, what are you doing?” He came hurrying toward them, frowning. “I don’t want you to open your door for anyone but me.”

  “It is only Nurse.” Diana stepped back so that he could enter.

  “But someone might be watching and overpower you.”

  “Vincent, I cannot remain a
prisoner in my own room every night. Feetham is just outside in the corridor.”

  “True enough, I suppose.” His frown eased. “But still… What are the two of you doing?”

  Diana braced herself for the explosion. “We need to take the children outside.”

  Vincent didn’t disappoint her. “What! Out in the dark? Have you run mad? Were you going to do this without me?”

  “Oh, no! We were waiting for you.”

  “Got to be done.” Nurse folded her arms across her gray-clad bosom.

  “Why?” Vincent turned his scowl on her. “What has to be done?”

  “Miss Selena must be protected.”

  “Protected? She is quite adequately protected where she is.” Vincent propped himself against the wall and folded his own arms. “Diana, what is this foolishness?”

  “It is the hair.”

  “Damnation! You don’t believe they would bother with some kind of sorcery? Or that they could harm Selena with it if they did?”

  Diana hesitated. “Not really, but Nurse does. And, truthfully, I would feel better if…”

  “Can’t you do whatever it is you want to do here, in the house?” He glared at both of them.

  “The moon’s light has got to fall on her,” Nurse stated firmly.

  Vincent rolled his eyes toward the ceiling in an expression that spoke louder than words. Women! He turned to Nurse, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “What are you going to do? Pray to the moon?”

  Nurse favored him with a look that clearly indicated that, had she still the power to do so, his mouth would soon be washed out with soap. In icy tones she pronounced, “That would be unChristian.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. Obviously he was not going to win this argument. Logic was not going to apply. If he did not help them, he could see that they would find a way to do it without him. Best to get over heavy ground as light as you can. “Very well. Let’s get the nonsense behind us. What must be done?”

  “Bring the children to the courtyard. It’s safe enough. I’ll do what’s necessary.” Nurse opened the door and moved to the children’s room.

  With a snort of disgust, Vincent followed, Diana on his heels. Throckmorton looked at him in disbelief when he announced that they would carry the sleeping Selena and Bytham out to the courtyard. Vincent shrugged. “Some blather the women are about. You take Selena.” He picked Bytham up out of the bed and beckoned to Feetham. “Best come with us.”