by Sandra Heath
‘Do go on, Miss Fairmead, for you tell a fascinating tale.’
She felt as if he’d struck her, but although she flinched, she gave no other sign of the pain that lanced through her. ‘I now had even more to confess than before, and I thought perhaps it would be better if I wrote to you. I labored a long time over that letter, and I dispatched it to you with one of the Bourne End coachmen, a young man who was more than willing to help, because he is my maid’s sweetheart. He was set upon in broad daylight by Lord Swag, and the letter came back to me unread. So I took it with me to Farrish House, determined to achieve my long-overdue confession. Before I kept my tryst with you, however, I made the acquaintance of Ralph St John’s father, a gentleman who is as unlike his odious son as chalk is from cheese. He’s not the fool Ralph believes him to be; indeed, he saw through the false betrothal, which I then found out was needed in order to persuade Mr St John Senior to part with a large sum of money. Ralph had written to him in Jamaica about a forthcoming betrothal and the need to purchase a suitable property ready for married life, but the truth was that the money was for Ralph’s huge gambling debts. Mr St John came back here to investigate what was going on, and it didn’t take him long to realize that Ralph had lighted on me because he had to produce a bride from somewhere. Ralph had been confident I’d leap at the prospect of a match with him, and he’d had a shock when I turned him down. He was in a corner by then, however, and so used force to bring me around.
‘Knowing I could trust Mr St John, I told him about my love for you, going only so far as to tell him Ralph was using that love to make me do his will. I didn’t mention your sister, nor did I tell him that Ralph had been the real villain with Prince Agamemnon. I liked Mr St John, my lord, and I didn’t want him to be hurt any more than necessary by awful revelations about the depths to which his loathsome son had sunk, and was still prepared to sink. Mr St John had heard enough; he decided that Ralph had to have the tables turned on him. I knew when I met you last night that Ralph was going to have to leave England very shortly, otherwise he was going to languish in jail and be disinherited.’
‘I take it that’s what you meant when you said something about Ralph not being in a position to continue his vendetta for much longer?’
‘Yes. Then I asked you to take me outside so that we could talk. I truly meant then to tell you everything; indeed, I was just about to start when I heard Margaret approaching.’ Helen gave an ironic laugh. ‘She was walking toward us, in company with the Cardusays. It was too much for me, and I ran away.’ She paused for a long moment, aware of the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore. She gazed at the boat, taking a long breath before continuing. ‘When I returned to the ball after you’d gone, I was given your message by the footman. I can’t tell you how glad I was that you’d give me another chance.’
She turned to face him, but his expression offered no heart, it remained cold. She breathed out tremulously, turning away again. ‘When I ran away from you at the ball, I hid in the landau. I was absolutely distraught, and had to hide because I was in tears. I happened to overhear two lovers in the next carriage – I don’t know who they were, and it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that something the woman said made me realize why Ralph had turned upon you. It was because of Mrs Tully.’
Adam gave a coolly incredulous laugh. ‘She meant nothing to me, and I certainly didn’t accept what she offered me. Besides, she didn’t hold that special a place in Ralph’s heart.’
‘She held place enough for him to still carry a miniature of her around with him. I saw him at Bourne End, gazing at it without knowing I was there. I could tell that he often looked at it like that, but he denied even knowing who the woman in the miniature was. I knew the miniature seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then the woman in the next carriage at Farrish House said something about nearly having come to the ball as Mistress Fuchsia. That’s when I knew why the miniature had seemed familiar – it was a portrait of Mrs Tully in her most famous role. It was because she spurned him in favor of you that he hates you, my lord.’
‘Has he admitted it?’
‘I haven’t faced him with it, I just know I’m right. I also think I know why he chose a way of hurting you that would also hurt Gregory. Margaret once told me that before she’d fallen in love with Gregory, Ralph had been her admirer, although she hadn’t known it. Losing her to Gregory probably meant that in Ralph’s warped view Gregory merited a little punishment, although perhaps not as much punishment as you, because Margaret hadn’t meant as much to him as Mrs Tully.’ She glanced at him. ‘That is why he did it, he had no more reason than wounded male vanity, but the damage is done, and he doesn’t intend to undo it before he leaves at dawn for Falmouth. His threat to Lady Bowes-Fenton is as potent as ever, my lord, and any attempt to force him to confess to everything would certainly still result in your sister’s ruin. Our hands are tied, and have to remain tied.’
For a long moment he looked at her, his eyes piercingly blue. ‘You are an excellent storyteller, Miss Fairmead, and I’ve no doubt that a great deal of it is true,’
‘It’s all true!’
‘Perhaps I should rephrase it – it’s what you’ve omitted to tell me that makes me doubt your complete veracity, Miss Fairmead.’
‘I haven’t omitted anything, I’ve told you the absolute truth. I love you, I’ve loved you from the first day we met, and if you asked me to go with you now, I’d go. I’m prepared to throw my reputation to the winds for you, I’m prepared to turn my back on my family….’
‘But you’re not prepared to tell me everything. Oh, if only you knew how much I want to believe in you, for I admit that I’ve felt for you everything you’ve claimed to feel for me, and if I could look into your eyes at this moment and see the innocence and honesty I so dearly wish to see, then I’d gladly open my arms to you again.’
‘You do see that innocence and honesty!’ she cried. ‘Everything I’ve told you this evening is the truth, I haven’t told a single untruth.’
‘As I said,’ he responded softly, ‘it’s what you’ve omitted to tell me that gives the lie to your fulsome claims to thwarted innocence. I believe your story about the stay at the inn, and I believe what you’ve told me about Ralph St John’s motives for everything, but what I don’t believe, and cannot believe, is that you were unwilling to enter into a betrothal with him.’
Stunned, she stared at him. ‘That isn’t so,’ she whispered. ‘I loathe him, I turned him down, and only entered into a betrothal because I was forced!’
‘I have just cause to think you’re lying, Miss Fairmead, three just causes, as it happens.’
‘I – I don’t know what you mean.’ Her voice caught helplessly, a thousand thoughts swirling confusingly in her bead. What was he talking about? What three just causes?
‘I’m talking about two tender kisses, outside the Bourne box today when you said farewell to him. I’m also talking about this. He took a letter from inside his coat, holding it out to her.
Her hand shook as she took it. Fragments of broken seal fell to the grass as she opened the letter to read.
Drummond,
There is unfortunately too much between us for friendship ever to exist again, but that does not mean I wish to inflict a lifetime of unhappiness and disillusionment upon you. I am sure that my departure will delight you, but I am equally sure that it will bring Helen finally to your side. You see, the lady has been playing a double game, keeping you on the sidelines while all the time she hoped to snap me up. She’s a tempting morsel, as you no doubt know, and she’s more than prepared to surrender her delightful charms in the furtherance of her ambitions. When I found out about her liaison with you, I decided to play her at her own deceitful game. I took all she had to offer, I enjoyed her to the full, and then after kissing her farewell today, I told her I was leaving without giving her the ring she so dearly wanted on her scheming little finger. If you believe her beguiling act, you’re a fool, Drummond,
and if you’re inclined to think I’m acting out of spite by writing this letter, let me advise you to speak to Lady Cowper, who witnessed two tender kisses outside the royal box at the end of today’s races before she drove away. What she did not witness was Helen’s furious disbelief when she realized I was saying farewell forever. You’re better off without the lady, Drummond, although the choice is, of course, entirely up to you.
St John
Helen stared at the signature. This was Ralph’s vengeance, his promised billet-doux, and oh, how effective it was. Slowly she folded the paper, her hand shaking as she handed it back to him. ‘Since you speak so firmly of having three just reasons to disbelieve me, I can only think that you’ve spoken to Lady Cowper.’ Her heart was breaking.
‘Naturally.’
‘Oh, naturally,’ she whispered, blinking back the tears. ‘Every word he’s written is a lie, except that there were two kisses, but I didn’t invite them, he knew that I wouldn’t dare to do anything about them. Throughout all this I’ve been mindful of your desire to protect the sister you love, and if I feel obliged to remind you of the fact, then you must forgive me, sir, but I think that under the circumstances such a reminder is in order. He told me today that he was going to send this to you, and he said he was doing it because he guessed I’d said a little too much to his father. He doesn’t want to go to Jamaica, but his father is forcing it upon him; this letter, this billet-doux, as he was amused to call it, is my punishmnent.’ Tears were stinging her eyes, refusing to be denied any longer.
‘You’re right, of course, my sin is one of omission, for I should have told you that that is what he intended to do, but I didn’t and now you’ve fallen neatly into his trap. Think what you will of me, Adam, there’s obviously nothing I can do about it; but there’s nothing you can do about the way I feel about you. I love you, and I always will. I wanted to tell you everything from the outset, but it’s taken until now, and if there’s still something I’ve failed to confess, well, I don’t know what it could be. Put the omission down to weariness, rather than guile. Good-bye, Adam.’ Choking back a sob, she hurried away from him.
Tears blinded her. The heartbreak was a burning pain that seemed to shriek right through her. Everything was over, and he thought more ill of her than she’d ever dreamed he would. Distraught with emotion, she stumbled a little as she fled back to the horses, where a startled Peter took an anxious step toward her.
‘Miss Fairmead?’
‘I’m all right, Peter, I just want to go home.’ She almost snatched the reins from him, fumbling as she mounted.
Peter caught her horse’s bridle. ‘Don’t go just yet, miss, there’s a large party of gentlemen leaving in a minute or so, I can see them getting ready. There’s safety in numbers when Lord Swag’s about!’
But she was too upset to listen, urging her horse away so that Peter had to let go, He was in a quandary for a moment, wanting more than anything to travel safely back to Bourne End, but she was riding away at speed, and she was his responsibility. Resignedly, he began to mount his cob to pursue her, but as he did so, a hand restrained him. He turned sharply to find himself looking into Adam’s quick eyes. ‘S-sir?’
‘Did I hear you mention Lord Swag a moment ago?’
‘Yes, sir. We saw him when we were coming here.’
‘Then get after her, I’ll be following!’
Without waiting a moment more, Adam ran toward the jetty. Peter urged his cob away in Helen’s wake, and he glanced back in time to see Adam hurry up to a guards officer friend, demand his pistol, and then dash away with it in the direction of his waiting horse.
Peter brought his cob up to the fastest pace it could manage, but already Helen had vanished from sight along the road, where evening shadows were now very long indeed as sunset approached.
Helen was so upset she hardly knew what she was doing. Tears blurred her vision, and sobs racked her body as she urged her nervous horse toward the great copper beech by the track to Herne’s Glade. She was devastated that Adam could so totally spurn her, and the misery folded over her so numbingly that she didn’t at first see the motionless mounted figure barring the track ahead. Realization swept icily over her as her horse’s headlong gallop checked sharply, and its head came up uneasily. She reined in, confused at first, but then her frightened gaze picked out the silent still figure in front of her.
Terrified, she stared at him, her heart almost stopping as she saw the glint of fading sunlight on the barrel of his pistol. Other hoofbeats drummed along the road behind her, and she turned, hoping to see the company of gentlemen, but it was only Peter. The dismayed coachman reined in as well, maneuvering his cob alongside her as the highwayman silently motioned him to do so.
Helen glanced tearfully at him. ‘I’m so sorry, Peter, this is all my fault.’
Lord Swag moved his horse toward them, the slow clip-clop ominously threatening. His face was concealed by the shadow from his hat, and by a scarf tied around his nose and mouth. He wore no gloves, and Helen could see how dirty and rough his hands were; he may have been known as Lord Swag, but there was nothing lordly about him at all.
He reined in in front of them, jerking the pistol toward Peter. When he spoke, his voice was thin and nasal. ‘Reck’n I knows you my laddo; reck’n I left you in a ditch a while back. You’ll be poor pickin’ this time, but this fine bit o’ muslin, she’s more promisin’.’ The pistol moved back toward Helen, indicating her watch. ‘That’s a pretty trinket, my lovely, so why don’t you ’and it over, like a good girly.’
Her hands were shaking so much she could barely handle the watch, let alone unpin it, but even as she struggled with it, a single pistol shot rang out and Lord Swag gave a sharp cry of pain, his pistol clattering to the ground.
Helen screamed, and the horses were startled, but then a new sound filled the air, the thunder of many hooves as the party of gentlemen appeared at last Lord Swag was wounded in his right hand, but seeing retribution bearing down on him in force, he somehow found the strength to turn his frightened horse, urging it away along the track in the direction of the main highway.
Adam’s voice rang out to the gentlemen from the bushes where he’d managed to hide long enough to take aim. ‘After him, it’s Lord Swag!’
They needed no further urging. With excited and angry cries, they made off in pursuit, their horses kicking up a cloud of choking dust.
Helen’s hunter was thoroughly upset, capering nervously around and threatening to unseat her. Peter tried to grab the reins, but each time the frightened horse moved just out of reach and it was Adam who caught it at last, riding from the bushes and reaching over deftly to seize the bridle. Then he looked at her pale face. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes.’ His face was still cold, and she knew there was no hope he’d changed his mind about her. She found the strength to meet his eyes steadily. ‘It seems I owe my safety to you yet again, my lord.’
‘I, on the other hand, owe you nothing at all,’ he replied, glancing at Peter. ‘I’ll escort you to the gates of Bourne End.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The coachman looked unhappily at Helen, but she’d averted her face from them both, trying to hide her misery.
Adam dismounted to retrieve Lord Swag’s fallen pistol, then he mounted again and they rode on.
The sun was setting fast now, and the shadows were merging. Soon it would be dark. The horses’ hooves echoed as they passed through the gates out of the great park, and the scent of elder blossom was heady in the forest before they emerged onto the twilit heath. Fires flickered on the open ground, as the grooms and stableboys in charge of the many racehorses sat around enjoying the evening.
A strange calm descended over Helen, and when Adam left them at the gates of Bourne End, riding away without another word to her, she didn’t turn to watch him, even though she wanted to with all her heart. He’d severed all friendship, and now she had to continue with her shattered life.
But it wasn’t over yet, and if sh
e thought what had happened so far was bad enough, it was as nothing to the developments that were already in progress.
CHAPTER 21
She dismounted at the house, giving the reins of her tired hunter to Peter. ‘I’m sorry for everything, Peter.’
‘That’s all right, miss, for I understand. I’m only sorry it didn’t go as you hoped.’
‘I’m sorry about that, too,’ she replied, turning to go wearily into the house. She still felt imbued with an odd calm, but perhaps it was just that she felt absolutely drained. Her emotions had been sorely tested over the past week or more, and tonight’s denouement had been too much; she’d slipped from living on nervous energy to a dull resignation that all her dreams had been dashed forever.