The doctor uncrossed his legs and leaned forward earnestly. "That's the least of our worries at this point. I know someone has been attacking your estate with greater and greater regularity. You need to be extra-vigilant, Clifford. Post guards to stand watch along the entire perimeter of the estate. If it is Gerald, we will catch him in the act sooner or later."
"But whoever has been carrying out those depredations has attacked other estates and their livestock before. If the culprit sees my property is well protected, he will simply go on to another farm. Not to mention the fact that I'm certain whoever it is must have other hell-raisers to assist him."
John gave a wise smile. "The more people who know about a secret, the less likely that it will remain one. Mayhap we 'll be able to get one of them to talk?"
Clifford shrugged, and then struck his forehead. "You don't suppose those highwaymen on the Bath to London road--"
The doctor reached over to grasp his pipe and tobacco pouch. He busied his hands while he contemplated Clifford's new theory. "It is a stretch, I admit, but anything is possible," he said after a time. "We're dealing with a dangerous criminal."
"But Gerald isn't the only wild young man in these parts. We've already discussed the Stephenses. What about the Cavendish trio, and Timothy Bridges?"
Dr. Gold made a hopeless gesture. "We need to talk to the Bransons about this. It is all too much for me to take in."
"I know. Malcolm was making notes before. He didn't know what was in his father's official files, however."
"Then we need to consult with him. And try to think of who else maybe able to help us. Catalog all the names, dates places. All of the crimes committed in the past few years, great or small."
"Many of the more recent ones have been monstrous." Clifford shook his head. "I can't quite take it all in. It was only supposed to be a harmless ball last night. Then I win Vanessa in a card game of all things, and suddenly find myself in the middle of a maelstrom of murder and mayhem."
John reached over to pat him on the shoulder with warm affection. "Just stay calm, lad. It will be all right. You're not alone, and between you, Henry and myself, we can accomplish a great deal. With the Bransons' aid too, we will get to the bottom of this, I'm sure. We can't hope to solve every single crime in the region tonight. So for now let's go back to the salient point here. Gerald is in Queer Street and gambled his sister's hand. Vanessa was suddenly taken ill."
"Poor Vanessa has been dragged back here to Somerset and made a quiz of through no fault of her own."
"Unless--" The doctor looked aghast. "How did you say the old lady died?"
"Of an apoplectic fit."
"Another sudden death in the family?" he asked in a strange tone.
Clifford wracked his brains for a moment and then stared at Dr. Gold in horror. "Gerald was in Dorset at the time. It was his sister's eighteen birthday, and he went to pay his respects." He struck his fist into his open palm. "Damnation."
Joh said urgently, "Are you sure, Clifford? Really sure?"
"As sure as I can be," he replied, his voice trembling. "I remember, because the neighborhood was so quiet when he was gone. There were no highway robberies either during that time. He went to visit there, she died, he helped oversee the closing of the estate, and then moved Vanessa to Hawkesworth House. It's incredible."
Dr. Gold nodded. "It being so incredible would appear to be one of the reasons why no one has ever suspected him before. But he has become more and more unpredictable and unstable. He has grown increasingly desperate. He saw a chance to get money and took it. It's only a matter of time before he tries to move against Vanessa again, or you, if you try to protect her."
Clifford ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "You're right, his father must have been protecting him all along. And he would only act so rashly and murderously when he was backed into a corner."
"He'll have no one to protect him now."
Clifford sat down and took another drink."I'm not so sure. His cousins, perhaps? His aunt?"
Dr. Gold looked uneasy. "Let's not let our suspicions run away with us completely."
"I'm telling you, John, I have a very bad feeling about all this. My instincts have always stood me in good stead. Got me out of quite a few scrapes in the Army, I can tell you."
"What do you suggest then, apart from exercising the utmost vigilance where Vanessa is concerned?"
"We have to get some sort of proof as to what Gerald has done. Persuade the servants to report him. Get anyone who might have been working at the house at the time of Vanessa's parents' deaths to come forward with what they know."
John sighed and nervously tried to light his pipe. "All of this takes time."
"I'm prepared to marry her immediately, if that's what you're worried about," Clifford declared.
"I'm worried as much for you as for her, Clifford, and not least because of Gerald. Marriage is such a drastic step."
"But John, you have as much as agreed with me that she's in danger."
"But you're concerned for her social reputation as well, whereas I would say the devil take it, and get her safely out of harm's way as quickly as possible."
Clifford stared at his friend in consternation. "What, you mean drag her off? Elope?"
"It is drastic, I admit, but-"
One part of Clifford was sorely tempted to do exactly as the Doctor suggested. Yet the more practical side of his nature warned him that there were too many arguments against such an impetuous course of action. She was not well enough to travel, and would probably never forgive him for what would seem little better than kidnapping to her when she was still so unsure of him.
"You don't have to go far. Bath--"
Clifford paced for a few more moments, and then sat down heavily. "No, I can't do it. I just can't. Much as it would be a solution to many of our problems, she would never forgive me.
"Besides, Vanessa won't be safe anywhere if Gerald is as monstrous as we believe. He can follow her, even to the Continent, if he so chooses. What is to stop him from doing anything untoward to her whenever he likes the minute our guard is down?"
Both men stared at the crackling fire in silence for a time.
Finally Clifford said, "There might be one way to ensure her safety, at least until we get enough proof to lock him up or blackmail him into never misbehaving again. We assign Gerald a generous allowance, which will continue only so long as she is alive and in good health."
The doctor sighed. "It will work only for so long, before he squanders it all and then gets desperate again."
"Or gets caught committing depredations on someone's estate, or robbing a coach. In which case I will not be the one who pointed the finger at my wife's husband."
"Damn, this is the Devil's own bargain," the doctor muttered.
"I like it no more than you do, John," Clifford rasped, his voice ragged with barely suppressed emotion. He took a steadying breath to relieve the choking sensation in the back of his throat.
"But we have few choices. I will not have Vanessa harmed, or ruined. Even if Gerald is caught red-handed, it cannot reflect badly upon her, since she will safely be my wife, and was living in Dorset when all of the trouble here and in London began."
"Clifford, it is most admirable of you to want to protect her, but what if we are wrong? What if she too is mad?"
His candid blue gaze remained steady. "I'm prepared to take that risk. Mad or not, she will become my wife by the end of the month. Then we shall began to engineer Gerald's downfall."
"Just so long as he doesn't engineer yours first."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After Clifford's discussion with Dr. Gold about what was to be done with the mad Gerald Hawkesworth, he ascended the stairs to check on Vanessa.
His brother Henry rose from the chair he had been keeping vigil in, and motioned him outside.
"I didn't get a chance to speak with you before alone. I just wanted to tell you that I managed to glean some pertinent informatio
n from the servants when I went back to Hawkesworth House before."
"Go on, Henry, out with it," Clifford said impatiently.
"Two things. One of the Cavendish servants arrived with a message to Vanessa saying Gerald had started up to London, but got taken ill on the way."
Clifford scowled. "It could just be a feint, a ruse to throw off suspicion."
"Aye, except for the fact that the servants told me that Gerald and Vanessa had guests for tea that afternoon. Peter and Toby Stephens."
"Damnation."
"Aye. They all quarreled, so far as I could tell from what the servants did and didn't say."
"Why, because they were angry with Gerald over the card game?" Clifford asked doubtfully.
Henry shook his head. "More like because they came to press their own suits for marriage with Vanessa, and then with Gerald. They both want her for their own."
"Damnation," Clifford gritted out again. "It is no less than I suspected. But the visit and subsequent rows will now weaken my theory that Gerald was responsible for trying to poison his sister."
"No other visitors came to the house. I think the servants are very honest, loyal to the family despite not liking Gerald at all. It's their home, and so long as they are not women, they have a quiet enough life with Gerald out gallivanting most days and nights."
Clifford paced up and down in the corridor for a time. "So now we have three possible suspects for poisoning."
"If that's what it was."
"Bother."
"Quite. It also begs the question of whether or not the ambitious Peter and rapscallion Toby might be involved in the depredations upon our estate?"
"Or all three acting in league with each other?" Clifford posited.
Henry conceded, "It is possible. However, that assumes a great deal of trust amongst all three. But I doubt Toby could keep a secret for so long. His tongue is looser than a sailor's teeth. And his drinking is getting much worse."
Clifford chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. At length he said, "We need to look at our own records, and those of Geoffrey Branson. Find out when our troubles first started. Certainly not in Father's day. Nor, I suspect, when Gerald's father was alive."
"But just in case, I shall also discover when Peter's father died."
"Hmm, you do that," Clifford agreed. "Listen, I can't thank you enough for--"
"Save it, Clifford. Thank Geoffrey and Malcolm. If anyone can get to the bottom of this, they can. It just depends on how much you want me to confide in them."
"All of it," Clifford instructed. "Malcolm is doing his best to gather evidence of his own. Perhaps there has been something his father or his deputies have missed. I have no qualms about airing my suspicions if it protects Vanessa. I will be more than willing to eat crow about Gerald if he is innocent. So long as she is safe, nothing else matters."
Henry nodded. "Very well. I shall go see John, tell him to include Vanessa's cousins on the list of people not allowed to see Vanessa alone. Then I shall visit Malcolm."
"Thank you, Henry. I'm just going to go in to sit with her now."
The brothers gave each other pats on the back, and separated, Henry down the stairs, Clifford back into the sickroom.
He found Vanessa just rousing from her slumber.
"Any nightmares this time?" he asked gently.
Her cheeks flushed brightly, but she shook her head and sat up against the headboard. "I can't think what came over me before. How embarrassing."
He stroked her hair back from her forehead. "No need to feel embarrassed. Everyone has nightmares. Even me."
"And what would terrify you?" she asked curiously.
Clifford thought for a moment. "Losing the people I care about," he said promptly, recollecting what he had endured whilst serving in the British army in the Iberian Peninsula.
"Losing Stone Court, which has been in the family for generations, though I have to say, it is just a house, and as such, nothing compared with the loss of a loved one."
Her fine brows shot up in surprise. "Not the answer I would expect from a ruthless man."
Clifford gazed at her fixedly, then held out his hand. "I'll make a bargain with you, Vanessa. I won't listen to anything people tell me about you, if you won't listen to the gossip you hear about me."
She took his hand and squeezed it warmly. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "You just don't know what it's like to be so uncertain of everything and everyone. Becoming an heiress has changed my life utterly. I feel like a child stumbling around blindly in a dark house, terrified out of my wits."
His blue eyes sharpened but he kept his tone mild. "An interesting comparison. Any reason why you said that?"
She began to shiver again, but said, "No, no reason at all."
He gave her a long measuring look, but decided not to press her for any more confidences at this time. "Well, if you're done being ashamed of your dreams, why don't we talk about some business? I'm hoping you'll be well enough to leave here soon. We need to make some future plans.
"I'd like you to come home with me to Stone Court directly from here. We can be married in the garden at the back of the house. There's a terrace, and the almanac tells me we have a spate of fine weather on its way."
She stared at him. "You really mean to go ahead with this farcical scheme to try to force me to marry you?" she demanded sharply.
Clifford blinked. "Force you? Don't be ridiculous. I've done everything I can to protect you and your reputation-"
"But you're still insisting that we marry."
Clifford lost his patience then. "I have no wish to argue with you. But just keep in mind that you could do a damn sight worse than me. Any one of a number of fortune hunters and debauchers could have won your hand. Have you met the three eldest Cavendish cousins recently? They are notorious amongst the women hereabouts. Gerald was not particular about who put up a stake of five thousand pounds, only that they had the money."
Vanessa glared at him.
Clifford continued to press his suit even though he felt it hopeless with the way she was looking at him. "I know he's lied about me, done his best to ruin my good name. I give you my word, Vanessa, I played only to avoid you being given to a man you would despise or be fearful of. Malcolm ensured all was done fairly by acting as dealer. He is a good, decent man, and your fortune would certainly have been a boon to his family. Yet even he did not wish to gamble for you, not for your inheritance, but also not even to protect you."
"Protect me? But--"
He pressed on to cover over his mistake. "Protect your reputation. I don't expect to be thanked for my chivalry. I behaved in the manner I thought was natural and just. I don't wish for gratitude. I am merely stating my reasons for acting as I did. We were friends, and can be friends again if you'll just take me as you find me. Many marriages have been founded upon a lot less common ground."
She looked at him doubtfully.
He heaved a ragged sigh, and ran one finger around the inside of his stock to ease its chafing. "I may be many things, but hypocrite and liar are not amongst them. I give you my word, Vanessa, if you decide at the end of the week that you cannot abide me, we'll make other arrangements for your well being and protection of your good name. But for now, just give me a chance to prove to you that my intentions are honorable."
She wished she could detect any sign of dissimulation on his handsome features, but found none. All she could see was passionate conviction and a seeming earnestness she had never encountered before.
"Very well, I agree," she said tentatively, pleating the sheet under her hand nervously. "If I can find no fault with you, I shall marry you. But I expect absolute candor."
"Done. If there's anything you need to know, I shall tell you."
Of course, his own definition of 'need' would have to apply, but he told himself that he was only trying to protect her. Blurting out his suspicions of her half-brother being a highwayman and murderer were not amongst those things she had to know at this time.
"In that case, tell me about you and Henry growing up."
Clifford smiled broadly. "Gladly. That's easy. So many happy memories."
Vanessa stared, sure she had never seen a more handsome man as he recounted their boyish escapades, hunting, fishing, and falling in love with the serving girls.
"And no doubt ruining one or two of them," she could not help observing acerbically.
Clifford's eyes narrowed. "I admit my closest school friends and I were known as the Rakehells, but that was mainly due to our Radical politics, not our pursuit of women. We would argue with our teachers, and were real hell raisers whenever we perceived injustice. But we were not despoilers of females.
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