by Sandra Heath
“You say an innkeeper sent word?”
“Yes, but he knows very little.”
“Was Jeremy caught?”
“No, the felon escaped in your carriage, which, incidentally, I doubt you will ever see again.” He looked intently into her eyes. “Olivia, will you ride back to Bevincote with me now?”
“Now?” Her glance flew toward the window, for it would soon be dark.
“Melinda needs a woman’s company,” he said quietly.
She stared at him. “Are you saying that Jeremy ... ?”
“I don’t know, because she won’t speak to anyone, but I must fear the worst. They took a room at the inn as husband and wife, just as they did at Grillion’s, only this time I didn’t arrive to rescue her. She may already be Fenwick’s wife for all I know. There’s no wedding band, but that doesn’t necessarily signify anything.”
He pressed his lips angrily together. “She’s too distressed to say anything to me, but I think she might confide in a woman. You are a widow, and she will therefore know that you are familiar with the, er, finer points, shall we say? She also knows that I trust you, and in spite of everything that counts a great deal with her, for although it may not seem so at the moment, she and I are actually very close.”
“Does she know yet that I was the one who caused the scene at the ball?” Summer asked uneasily, recalling all she’d said to him so publicly. Could any sister forgive a woman who called her beloved brother such terrible things, let alone confide in the same woman?
He smiled a little. “No, nor does Lord Lytherby, if that is your next question. Neither Francis nor I have said anything at all, so your secret is safe.”
“Maybe not as safe as I’d like, for she and I didn’t exactly hit it off at the ball. You see, at that time I really did think she was hoping to steal him from Caro, and I was frosty with her as a result. She knows my voice because we spoke for several minutes, and although I was masked, she still saw my eyes and hair.”
“To be truthful, Olivia, she seems to be in such a state of shock that I doubt very much if the ball is even vaguely in her thoughts right now. So will you come to Bevincote, or do you have pressing matters here concerning your uncle and cousin?”
“They’ve gone to Berkeley and will not return before dinner. Besides nothing could be more pressing than your request. I’ll change into my riding habit straightaway.”
He gave a rueful smile. “If anyone should feel guilty about carriages, it’s me. What on earth was I thinking of riding here when it’s almost dark, expecting you to ride back with me! If ever a carriage was called for...” He paused. “Perhaps Bradshaw would—?”
“I’d rather ride,” she said quickly. “If you could have someone saddle a horse for me, I’ll meet you outside the main door in a few minutes.”
“Very well, but I’ll bring you home in a carriage, you have my word on that.”
She smiled, then caught up her skirts to hurry from the room.
Five minutes later, still adjusting the net veil of her little top hat, she hurried downstairs again in her riding habit and encountered George Bradshaw in the hall.
“You seem in a great hurry, Mrs. Courtenay,” he observed, glancing in surprise at her attire.
“Would you please be so good as to inform my uncle and cousin when they return that Miss Huntingford has been found, and I have accompanied Sir Brand to Bevincote to be with her?”
“I will relay your message, Mrs. Courtenay.”
“Thank you.” She swept past him and out into the fading afternoon light, where Brand was waiting with two horses. He assisted her to mount, and within seconds they were riding at speed down through the park toward the gates.
She looked toward the End of the World and the estuary. The sun had almost vanished now, but the ruined chapel was visible in the gathering gloom. Would she soon be able to carve her message to Chrissie? She couldn’t sense anything about what might be happening right now to her future self, but here in the past she felt perfectly well. Did that mean that her theory was going to be vindicated? She prayed so, oh, how she prayed so.
For a moment tears stung her eyes as she thought of her sister. “Forgive me, Chrissie,” she whispered, but the wind of the gallop snatched her words away.
The ride took half an hour, and night had fallen as they passed between the great gates of Bevincote. Summer heard the windbells she’d noticed on the night of the ball; gentle and melodious, their sweet tones drifted through the darkness like distant music.
At the house Brand leapt from the saddle and came quickly to assist her down as well, then they hurried into the red-and-gold entrance hall, with its Chinese river scenes and bright lotus lusters. The sweet scent of Oriental spices still drifted from the open potpourri jars in the hearths of the fireplaces, but there were no flowers now.
Lord Lytherby and Francis were waiting, the latter leaping to his feet from a sofa as they entered. His father stood with his back to one of the dragon-carved marble fireplaces, and was without the tight lacing he’d endured for the ball, with the result that beneath his dark blue coat and mustard brocade waistcoat, his rotund shape was only too evident. His wig was very slightly askew, and standing close to the fire had made his fair skin flush.
He seemed tired as he ran a finger around his collar before speaking. “Well, I trust at least some relevant information will result from dragging you all the way from Oakhill House, Mrs., er, Courtenay.”
“I trust so too, my lord,” Summer replied.
He held her gaze. “I had no idea that you and Sir Brand were so well acquainted,” he said then. “Where did you meet?”
She prayed her face didn’t color suspiciously, but before she could say anything, Brand spoke first. “We’ve encountered each other at various functions in London.”
Lord Lytherby nodded. “Indeed? Well, that explains it.”
Summer’s guilty glance fled to Francis, to whom she’d told an entirely different story when she’d fled from the ball, but although there was a slightly quizzical glint in his eyes, he said nothing.
At that moment a gilded clock began to chime, and her thoughts darted to the future again. Surely by now Summer Stanway must have almost succumbed to the huge overdose of insulin? But Olivia Courtenay still felt nothing at all....
As the chimes died away, she was filled with a superstitious fear that to even think of her future self now would be to ruin everything, so she turned quickly to Brand. “Perhaps you had better take me to Miss Huntingford,” she said, deliberately keeping her back to the clock.
“Certainly. This way.” Brand led her toward the staircase.
On the landing she caught a brief glimpse of the ballroom, before Brand led her along a lamplit passage that was lined on one side by Indian windows, and on the other by exotic statues of Hindu gods and goddesses. At the far end they entered an area where the floor was laid with the familiar blue carpet, and she knew she was in the private apartments again.
Brand halted by a door that was flanked by tall white porcelain vases. “This is Melinda’s apartment, but before we go in ...” He caught her hand and pulled her close.
“Yes?” She looked up into his eyes.
He smiled and put his lips softly to hers, then released her. “That was all, just one small kiss,” he whispered before turning to knock at the door.
Chapter Twenty-one
After a moment the door was opened by a maid, who immediately stood aside for Brand and Summer to enter a small anteroom containing an Indian couch upholstered with silver silk and crimson tassels.
Brand turned to the maid, whom Summer noticed was very like Gwenny, perhaps even a relative. “How is my sister?” he asked quietly.
She lowered her eyes. “Miss Huntingford has not said anything to me, sir, but...”
“Yes?”
“Well, sir, she will not confide in me because I am not her usual maid.” The girl, Martha, lowered her eyes, for Lord Lytherby had summarily dismissed Melinda’
s maid for assisting in the elopement.
Brand nodded. “Very well, you may go for the moment.”
“Sir.”
Martha hurried away, and Brand led Summer through another door into the candlelit apartment beyond.
The room where Melinda sat was decorated entirely in blue and white, with delicate bamboo chairs and tables and a golden birdcage containing a canary. Through some open sliding doors Summer could see a cream-and-gold bedroom that was dominated by a bed with a gold silk pagoda canopy. There was also a dressing room and a small chamber that seemed to contain a writing desk and bookcase.
The curtains were undrawn, and Melinda’s slender figure was outlined against the window. She was seated on the deep sill, gazing steadily out at the darkness, and her unpinned honey-colored hair tumbled over the shoulders of her simple lavender woolen gown. Her face was very pale and strained, with tearstains on her cheeks. She didn’t look around as they came over to her; indeed she was so withdrawn that she didn’t even seem aware of their presence.
Brand put his hand gently to his sister’s chin and turned her face toward him. “How are you now, Melinda?”
For a long moment she stared up at him with large sorrowful lilac eyes, then she pulled her chin from his fingers and looked out of the window again.
“Melinda, you must tell me what happened,” Brand pleaded.
Summer put a warning hand on his sleeve and shook her head. “Go now, Brand,” she said firmly.
“But—”
“Go. It’s best.”
For a moment she thought he would refuse, but then he nodded and went out, closing the door softly behind him.
Summer removed her top hat and placed it on a table, then sat at the other end of the window ledge. From here she could see Melinda’s face much more clearly, and saw not only distress and anxiety, but that deep, deep dismay that comes from having one’s illusions shattered beyond all redemption.
“Miss Huntingford—or may I call you Melinda?”
There was no response.
“Please try to speak to me, Melinda, for I want to help if I can,” Summer said solicitously.
At last the lilac eyes moved toward her. “I know your voice, don’t I? Didn’t we speak at the ball?” Melinda said after a moment.
Summer gave a rueful smile. “We did. Not the best of beginnings, I fear.”
“When Brand told me he was going to bring Miss Merriam’s cousin to speak to me, I little thought...” Melinda gazed at her. “You were the woman who said all those things to him, weren’t you?”
Summer nodded resignedly. “I cannot deny it.”
Melinda searched her face. “Clearly, he hasn’t taken umbrage,” she murmured.
“I, er, hope you don’t think I spend my time being rude to people.” Summer shifted a little uncomfortably.
“I behaved very shabbily and deserved your wrath, but I do not know if Brand deserved it as well.”
Summer drew a long breath. “Well, I thought he did at the time.”
Melinda smoothed a fold of her skirt. It was an unhappy action that spoke volumes of the distress that engulfed her, and Summer leaned across to put her hand gently over those distracted fingers.
“I’ve come here to talk about you, Melinda, not me. Can you tell me what happened?”
Tears welled from Melinda’s eyes, and she drew her hand away. “I don’t want to speak of it.”
“You must, Melinda, and maybe it will be easier to tell me than tell Sir Brand. You do know why he’s so worried for you, don’t you? He’s afraid that Jeremy forced himself upon you.”
Melinda’s lips trembled, and suddenly she hid her face in her hands.
Summer got up quickly and went to put her arms around her. “What is it, Melinda? I want to understand and help, so please tell me.”
Melinda took her hands away from her face to reveal eyes that were brimming with tears, and suddenly words spilled out passionately from her shaking lips. “No one can possibly understand how used, foolish, and ashamed I feel! I adored him and really thought he loved me, so we eloped because we knew we would never be permitted to m ... marry.”
Melinda’s fists clenched with stifled emotion. “He said we would be married in the morning, but that for one night we would have to pretend we already were, otherwise the innkeeper would turn us out.”
Summer stroked Melinda’s hair. “And did you spend the night as man and wife?” she asked gently.
The reply was uttered in such a tiny voice that Summer almost didn’t hear. “No.”
Summer took Melinda’s hands. “Then what did you do?” she pressed carefully.
Melinda’s lips shook, and she tried to turn away.
Summer wouldn’t let go of her hands. “Please tell me, Melinda.”
“Jeremy tried to persuade me. He was tender and loving, but I refused to sleep in the same room with him. I said it was wrong before we were married. He became angry and locked the door before trying to force me onto the bed. I struggled and fought him off, and managed to scream for help. He kept trying to make me do what he wanted, but I kept screaming. People in the next room broke the door down to see what was happening. Jeremy ran out and drove off in the carriage. I haven’t seen him since.”
Summer tightened her hold over Melinda’s hands. “And that is all of it? There’s nothing you’re too afraid to mention?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you swear it, Melinda?”
Melinda nodded tearfully. “Yes,” she whispered.
“What happened after Jeremy left?”
“I told the innkeeper who I was, and he allowed me to stay the night. Then the next morning he sent a rider to Brand here at Bevincote.”
Summer sat down again, still holding Melinda’s hands. “Believe me, you’ve been fortunate, for no lasting harm has been done, except perhaps to your pride and your trust in men.”
“I don’t feel fortunate, I feel more wretched than you can ever know. Have you ever been taken in so completely by someone you loved?”
Summer thought of how devastated she’d felt when she’d watched Brand drive out of the Black Lion yard. “Well, I thought I had once, and for a time I felt as crushed as you do now, but Melinda, just think how very much worse it would be for you right now if you’d become Jeremy’s wife. A man who could treat you so unspeakably before marriage in order to gain your fortune would have continued to treat you badly after, so no matter how dreadful your present feelings, you have been fortunate to escape from him.”
Melinda clung to every comforting word. “Yes, yes, I suppose I have.”
Adroitly, Summer turned the conversation to something pleasant and exciting. “Of course you have, and soon you’ll have your first London Season. You’ll be the center of attention, I promise, because you’re a very beautiful young lady.”
Melinda brightened a little. “I’ll be assured of the Duke of Chandworth’s interest.”
“Really? Then you’ll be the envy of every other woman in town, for he is without a doubt the catch.”
Melinda had been smiling, but suddenly her face became sad again, and more tears welled from her eyes. “I don’t deserve to be happy, not after the awful way I’ve behaved toward Francis and Miss Merriam. I can’t believe I flirted so flagrantly with him, or that I was so cruel to Miss Merriam. How they must both despise me.”
“Caro is too kind to bear a grudge, especially toward someone who has suffered such a dreadful ordeal; indeed when last I saw her, she was all anxiety for your safety. As for Mr. Lytherby, well, when I saw him a few minutes ago, he was anxious about you too and certainly did not look all daggers at the mention of your name.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
Melinda began to rally a little. “I’m glad Brand brought you to speak to me, Mrs. Courtenay.”
“My name is Olivia. If I have taken the liberty of calling you by your first name, surely it is only fair that you should do the same to me?
”
“Very well, Olivia.” Melinda smiled at her, then drew a long breath. “Brand is right about the diamond necklace, isn’t he? Jeremy did steal it from poor Lady Harvey?”
“I can think of no other explanation.”
“And he stole from his fellow officers, as well as indulging in highway robbery?”
“That must also be so, I fear.”
“I still find it hard to believe he is so villainous. When I first knew him, he was so perfect in every way ...” Melinda swallowed. “Well, I don’t know where the army money is, but I will see that the necklace is sent back to Lady Harvey.”
“She will be overjoyed, for it is very special to her.”
“I want to put all matters right, Olivia.”
“What other matters are there?”
Melinda looked away. “Francis and Miss Merriam. Somehow I must make it up to them for my despicable conduct.”
“They will not expect that of you.”
“Maybe not, but I expect it of me.”
Summer got up and tactfully changed the subject again. “Shall I bring Sir Brand now? He is so worried about you that it seems unkind to leave him pacing up and down outside, for that is what he has been doing, I’m sure.”
But Melinda put out a quick hand. “If first names are the order, Olivia, I think you may refer to him simply as Brand, don’t you? For it’s clear even to me that you are more to him than a mere acquaintance, and I doubt very much if in private you call him Sir.”
Summer colored a little. “No, I don’t,” she admitted, then hurried out to tell him that all was well. She found him in the anteroom with Francis, and he turned the instant the door opened.
“How is she?” he asked.
“I think everything is all right, Brand. She’s ready to speak to you now.”
“Did Fenwick—?”
“I’m sure not, and she will tell you all about it if you are gentle with her.” Summer smiled. “Mention of the London Season is most remedial.”
As he went in to his sister, Summer turned to Francis. “Miss Huntingford fears you will always be angry with her, so I promised her you wouldn’t. I trust that it was not an ill-advised liberty?”