She nodded. "Very well. I shall behave myself until we are wed. But as soon as we are, I want you for my very own husband."
He grinned. "Then I shall just have to do my best to give you exactly what you wish. Now come, let us find the girls, or they really will start to wonder what we have got up to in here."
She gave an impish grin. "Oh, I think they can guess."
"Very well, we would not wish to shock our hosts, then."
"True." She took his arm and smiled up at him, and they stepped out the front door into the bright late September sunshine.
After half an hour with still no sign of Henry or the carriage, even Clifford started to get restless wondering what had happened to his brother.
"He did say he was going to inspect that flooded field. I'm sure it is nothing to worry about," Josephine said calmly.
But when a full hour had passed and they were still waiting, Clifford asked to borrow a horse. Surely the highwaymen would not have dared strike in broad daylight?
Clifford was just finishing checking the saddle girth when his brother came clattering into the courtyard without the carriage, looking as if the hounds of Hell were after him.
Josephine and Vanessa came out onto the front drive to see what the delay had been, and found both brothers looking grim.
Vanessa gazed from one man to the other, her spine tingling with unease as she saw their expressions.
She stepped forward to demand, "What is it? What's happened?"
Finally Henry said, "You know I was going to inspect the flooded field by Millcote Forest? It was flooded because the sluice gates had been jammed open.
"At first I thought it was deliberate. It's happened recently in the past few months, a number of times, and ruined the crops and pasturelands.
"This time, though, it seems to have been a genuine accident. Something got washed down the river and caught in the gate, preventing it from shutting properly."
"What was it then?" Josephine asked a bit impatiently.
"More like who, I'm afraid," Henry said with a shake of his head. "There was a dead body in the leat. A woman's."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Two days later, Vanessa was still numb with the shock of Henry's discovery of a woman's dead body jammed into the leat on the Stone lands. The body had washed down river, and gotten stuck until he had gone to investigate his flooded fields and found the corpse.
If it had not been for the leat, the woman might never have been discovered, poor thing, Vanessa thought with a pang. Someone somewhere had to be missing her, had loved her, cared for her...
So many sudden deaths in such a short period of time made her feel continually uneasy. The nightmares she had been experiencing ever since arriving back at her childhood village came back with unrelenting force.
She had hardly seen Clifford or his brother for more than a few minutes each day in the morning and evening, for they had instituted a full investigation in cooperation with the local authorities and Army to bring the criminals to justice. Her fiance was leaving nothing to chance, not when the crime had been committed so close to home. Vanessa felt the sensation of some sort of trap springing shut, though she could not tell what it was or who had engineered it.
Clifford could imagine only too well. He tried to tell himself that it was just chance that the body had washed down into his sluice gate. But he knew Gerald's enmity for him was such that he would not put it past the man to try to implicate he and his family in some way by ensuring the body was found upon their property.
No one who had viewed the bloated features of the corpse had recognized the woman. The body had been stripped naked, leaving no clue as to her identity. But it was readily apparent how she had died. The livid purple marks around her throat and the bruising and rawness of her thighs testified to the ill usage she had suffered before she met her end.
Clifford only hoped that Vanessa trusted him enough not to think that he had been involved in some way. But with all the lies Gerald had told about him, that might well be a forlorn hope.
Vanessa herself did not know what to think. She paced up and down in her room at the Jeromes, all thoughts of trying to read or study completely gone. She barely tasted her meals, and her attempts to be a good houseguest were hopeless. She could not sing or make any tuneful sounds on the pianoforte, and could not concentrate at whist for more than a minute.
She felt so frustrated, sitting at the Jeromes' house safe and sound, still weak, and very confused. She burned with a sense of the injustice of it all, but was at a loss as to anything she could do to help.
She told herself it was not possible that Clifford could have been to blame. But the body on his land certainly seemed most damning. The vision of a woman in a blue dress kept coming back with horrifying frequency, but the solution to that puzzle was always just out of reach.
She did not know who the woman was or what had happened. All she knew was she had met a bad end. Was it real, or just a figment of her imagination, which had always been labeled overactive?
With a criminal on the loose, it seemed too much of a coincidence. Perhaps she really was mad?
If she wasn't already, all the watching and worrying would make her so.
At the end of the third day, the detailed search of the countryside by the authorities revealed a small curricle, which was found concealed in a thicket deep in the forest. The luggage had been rifled through and scattered, all valuables long gone. They gathered what remained, and brought it to the home of the local magistrate, Malcolm Branson's father Geoffrey, to see if people would be willing to look at the items to identify the hapless girl.
The fact that there were men's items also did not escape the notice of all concerned. Some were of the opinion that the poor girl had been lured away into the woods and met a bad end at the hands of her companion.
But Clifford was not so sure, and pointed this out to Malcolm and Henry as they sat in Malcolm's small private parlor decorated in navy blue with walnut furnishings. The host poured cups of tea for his visitors, then sat back to hear his friend's suppositions.
"I don't believe in coincidence or chance. We know the highwaymen have been operating up and down the London road for some time now. Occasionally the Oxford road as well. She's evidently not a local girl. Someone would have recognized her by now."
"True," Malcolm agreed.
"So I think the couple were journeying south and were waylaid. They might have been eloping, which is why no one has come forward to declare anyone missing hereabouts. Or they could just have been passing through on the way south, or to Bath and Bristol. They might have been just a harmless couple minding their own business."
"Good point," Henry said with an approving nod.
"I think if we look around further, we will find another corpse, that of her young man. And I am guessing that the body was put in our gate deliberately, to point the finger at myself or Henry."
Henry growled."The swine."
Clifford rested his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know we have nothing to fear for ourselves. We were all in each other's company at the Jeromes for the past few days. The men who committed this heinous act probably don't know this."
Henry nodded, slightly mollified.
"They also made another mistake. They took the possessions of the luckless couple. They've taken other possessions as well, and must either be keeping and using them, or selling them. Where better to sell them than a large city like London?"
Malcolm leaned forward, his face sharply intent. "Very true."
"I know for a fact that the Cavendish boys and the Stephenses all patronize so-called gentlemen's clubs in Town, though what is deemed gentlemanly about consorting with prostitutes I have no idea. They might be fencing the stolen valuables there, at their clubs, or they might still be in their accommodation. They might even still be in their houses here at Millcote, but we can't very well search them without more evidence and a warrant.
"We also need to narrow down w
ho they could be. At his point the only truly safe course of action is to suspect anyone who has any involvement with Gerald at this point."
The two men nodded.
"Malcolm, we need to ask your father if he is willing to send some reliable men to Town to see if they can trace any of the missing goods. We'll need a list of stolen items from all those robbed who have come forward. Our friend Thomas has gone up to Town on some business of his own, but he is a Duke, and thus had a great deal of power he will be happy to use on the side of justice for all these poor victims. He also knows some reliable and discreet men who can help with this matter. And Alistair Grant will be only too happy to help as well."
"My only concern is that people will think we're taking an unusual interest in this whole affair, the better to cover our own tracks," Henry pointed out.
Clifford shook his head and put down his teacup and saucer. "Only evil-minded people will think that. We have enough people to vouch for our good character. The lies which Gerald has told about me will fall on barren ground."
"Well, it doesn't help to be known as a Rakehell, not for either of us."
"It was Jonathan who started that. Flamboyantly jovial though he can be, he's now about to be ordained. If he's a Rake, then I'm Maid Marian."
The other men smiled at his small joke.
"I'm sure your father will help us. We need him to get everyone to come forward, with names, dates, places, anything they might have seen or heard, or remembered. A voice, a turn of phrase, a name, anything."
Malcolm nodded. "I'll do my best to persuade Father to be as thorough as he can."
"And I shall do my best to persuade Emma not to have anything more to do with James Cavendish," Henry promised. "I feel sure he is mixed up in this affair in some way. They are inordinately fond of the ladies. In fact, they would out-rake most men, even the most accomplished men about the Town!"
Clifford noticed his friend Malcolm looking relieved, and peered at him a bit more closely. He said casually, "I must say, Malcolm, you've done an admirable job of keeping your feelings under wraps. But now is not the time to be scrupulous. If you care for the girl, warn her, tell her. I know for a fact that she is not completely happy with the arrangement, and would welcome an excuse for breaking it off. Her parents are the best of people, but not very perceptive. They had no idea they were giving away their lamb to a ravening wolf."
Malcolm looked up with a new light of hope in his expression. "Do you really think I have a chance?"
Clifford smiled. "Only one way to find out. Nothing ventured, eh, old chap?"
"You're right, as always. I shall speak to my father first, of course, about all of this. If he gives his consent, then I'll speak to Emma. I have no proof that the Cavendishes are involved, but all the same, if I would not be happy to have my sister wed into such a family, I certainly would not wish them upon any other woman I cared for."
"I'm sure he will consent. He wants your happiness. I have to also point out here that Claire is in love with the vicar."
Malcolm's eyes bulged. "I beg your pardon?"
Clifford nodded. "I know Samuel Jerome has eyes for her, but she hung on the vicar's every word at dinner the other day. She could do worse. He is from an excellent family and the living is a good one, gifted by the Duke of Ellesmere."
"True. Did you manage to patch things up with him yet?"
"I believe so. I wrote and explained. He was up at Oxford with Jonathan, and has now gone onto Town according to his last letter. The fact that he is writing as regularly as always when he travels shows that he is no longer vexed with me."
"Let's just hope your principles don't land you in a whole world of trouble," Malcolmm said with a sigh.
"I would like to think we're all formidable men of principle in our own ways, even if some of us are not blessed with a title. Work hard, play hard, at Eton and Oxford."
"And don't forget the Army, all of you who chose to go," Malcolm added. "I know many censured you, but I would have given anything to have been able to serve by your sides against Bonaparte."
"'They also serve who only stand and wait,' Clifford quoted. "Anyway, no matter now. The fact is that Mr. Grayson is quite well off for his station in life. As long as we are arranging everyone's marital bliss, Malcolm, you might as well settle matters for your sister as well, before she pines herself to a shadow. Thomas is a most generous man, and will be in happy to do even more for Mr. Grayson once he marries your sister. There is nothing to stand in their way if they wish to wed, so long as your father approves."
Henry said, "Speaking of marital bliss, we're just about set for your wedding, Clifford, despite all of the turmoil here."
"Excellent. I'm sorry I've left it so much to you and Josephine, Brother, but I have been a bit distracted. Vanessa would not listen to a word against Gerald when I tried to explain. I worry every minute I'm not with her. I'm so grateful to you all for looking after her so well whilst I have been occupied. I only hope she won't hate me for pointing the finger at her brother."
"Half-brother. But he must be stopped. You have no choice, Clifford," Henry said.
"My only regret is I did nothing before."
"We never saw all of the connections before. And if you had, then most likely you would not now be marrying Vanessa."
Clifford shrugged. "I have a feeling I would have wed her no matter what. We're bound together. Don't ask me how or why, but we are."
"It's not like you to be so, well, fanciful and superstitious," Malcolm commented.
"I know, but I can't help it. It is as though this were our destiny. As if Gerald is about to face judgment for all of his crimes."
"It is unbelievable to think that he could have got away with so many crimes for so many years."
"I know, Henry. But what is worse, we still can't prove it. We only have my suppositions. But we all believe in a Divine power. Surely Gerald will pay the price eventually. We just need some irrefutable proof. Against him, and whoever has been aiding and abetting him as his fellow highwaymen. Please God He sends us proof before it's too late."
The young man opened his eyes and looked about him in confusion.
"Mother! He's awake! He's opened his eyes."
The old woman came bustling in to see for herself.
"The Lord be praised. He's alive."
He mouthed the word, "Water," barely a gasp of air making it past his bruised throat.
The girl brought a wooden cup and held it to his lips. He took one sip and choked, spluttering out the water all over his bare chest. But he clung onto the cup, and tried again, swishing some of it into his mouth to coat his parched tongue before forcing a few precious drops down despite the agony it cost him.
"What's your name, lad?" the old woman asked.
He lapsed back onto the pillow feebly and shook his head.
"It's all right," the girl reassured him. "I'm Susan, and this is my mother Mary Moore."
He shook his head again.
"You're safe here, lad. Don't care if you're in trouble, what you might have done. No one deserves the way you've been treated."
He closed his eyes. He could not remember his name. He could only feel overwhelming shock and misery. He cursed the gods for sparing him. How could he be alive? He didn't want to remember his name.
He didn't want to remember anything ever again...
The tiny dark-haired woman opened the door a crack. She clutched her shawl around her more closely and gasped. Her first response was to slam the door shut at once. She leaned against it, her palms flat against the thin timber. Then she told herself not to be so foolish. He had found her despite the fact that she had fled her old rooms. If he intended to harm her he could smash the door in with ease.
"Miss Winston. Penelope. It's me. Dr. Gold. I wanted to see if you were all right. To help you if I can. And I confess I really do need your help."
She sighed. She knew full well what he wanted. The point was, did she dare? Look what had happened the last ti
me she had tried to get justice for herself.
She chewed her lip, poised in the narrow, fetid hall like a rabbit confronted by a stoat. Pride had brought her low. Pride, and that bastard and his friends...
She had been alone the last time she had attempted to swallow her pride and get assistance. But now here was a potential ally, who claimed he was willing to aid her in exchange for the information she had kept secret for so long.
"Penelope, please. It's taken me ages to find you. At least let me explain. If you don't wish to help at the end of it, you don't have to. But do me the courtesy of hearing me out."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 27